An Earl's Flaming Journal: A Historical Regency Romance Book, page 5
“It was.”
Ely whistled.
“Whoa. She’s going to be very red-faced for days after that.”
“She was certainly red-faced when I caught her attempting to leave the journal and run away.”
“She didn’t want to hand it to you?”
St Ives shook his head.
“No. She didn’t even want the reward money. Just said she wanted to return it, nothing more.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t imagine someone of a lowly status not wanting to take a reward.”
“Probably because then she would have to explain to her family where the money came from and why. That’s not exactly something you can explain so easily.”
He did have a point. With a woman, any property and money would become their father’s or their guardian’s. Once they were married, that was transferred over to the husband. Women were lucky to have something of their own and just got passed around. St Ives hadn’t approved of that and wasn’t impressed when he and his grandparents discussed it when he was a child. He had made a point back then that he would marry someone he loved instead of advancing status and that they would be equals. No treating his wife like property.
And it would have to be a very special woman to make him want to approach marriage. Not even the women he took on as lovers could make him turn his head. Not even Catherine, and St Ives knew she would want more at some point if he weren’t careful.
“Nicholas?”
“Hmm?”
Ely was looking at him oddly. He arched an eyebrow.
“You’re thinking about that woman who brought your possession back, aren’t you?”
“I …”
St Ives thought about lying, but Ely had known him since they were barely walking. He would know. St Ives sighed and got to his feet, moving to the edge of the pond and plucking a sprig of lavender from the nearby bush.
“She intrigued me. There was something about her that got my attention.”
“Ah, I see.” Ely nodded. “She wasn’t interested in a flirtation.”
“What makes you think I tried any sort of flirtation?”
“If she’s a pretty young woman, seemingly unattached, of course, you would.”
Well, St Ives had tried, but Jemima had stopped it very quickly. Either that or she didn’t know that he was flirting. She was just eager to get away from him. That made St Ives even more curious.
“That just means she knows her limits,” Ely pointed out. “Unlike some people I won’t care to mention.”
“You mean me.” St Ives sighed, twirling the sprig of lavender between his fingers. “You think I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Nicholas, you can’t resist any pretty girl. They just have to look at you, and you know you’ve got to explore things more with them.”
“I can resist a pretty girl!”
Ely snorted.
“Not from what I’ve seen. Flirting with women in Society and with a title is one thing, but it’s something else when you end up turning your flirtations onto village girls. You need to be careful.” Ely got to his feet. “That brings even more trouble than you’re in right now.”
“I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
“Oh, really?” Ely folded his arms. “All you do is stupid things.”
“I thought you were meant to be on my side, Theodore.”
“I am, but I also know when you’re going to head towards stupidity, which is a lot.”
St Ives scowled.
“Thank you for making me feel better. I don’t know why we’re still friends.”
Ely shrugged.
“Because I like the drama as much as you do. Unfortunately. But at least I’m not stupid enough to write it all down for enjoyment later.”
“Touche.” St Ives tossed the sprig of lavender into the pond and watched it float across the water. “But it’s each to their own, I suppose. And I know that I would like to know more about Miss Jemima Place.”
“You would?”
“Yes.” St Ives turned to face his friend. “Like I said, she intrigued me. Now I’m curious. I want to know more.”
Ely sighed.
“I had a feeling you would say that once you started talking about her. But how are you going to do that? You can’t exactly go to the parents and ask to see their daughter in any capacity. That would involve you explaining to them how you came to meet her, and I don’t think that is something that should be discussed over a porcelain tea set.”
He did have a point. St Ives was sure that Jemima didn’t want this to be revealed to her parents. And Mr and Mrs Place would certainly not appreciate knowing that a rake was interested in their daughter. It was all a mess, but since when had a mess deterred him? St Ives had been in more challenging situations.
Have you really? Because none come to mind right now.
“I’ll see what I can do about that.” St Ives shrugged. “There has to be a way to approach her without having to disclose how we met.”
“You’re serious about this?”
“I am.”
Ely shook his head and turned away. The branches of the tree were hanging low, blocking the early spring sun’s rays. Blossom was sprinkled across the branches in pale pink bunches. Ely took off a twig covered in blossom.
“You do know that it’s going to get worse for you. It’s not exactly something you can hide if you start pursuing a village girl. You will stick out like a sore thumb.”
“You underestimate me, dear friend.”
“I think I understand you perfectly.” Ely plucked a couple of blossom petals, letting them fall to the ground. “And what about Miss Jennings? She’s not going to be impressed that your attention has gone elsewhere.”
Ah. Catherine. St Ives was surprised that he had barely thought about her since he encountered Jemima. She had simply faded into the background, and he was passing off the interlude with Catherine as something that wasn’t meant to be. Catherine would have to see this as the same; she was an intelligent woman.
“I was only there for an affair, Theodore.”
“A few feet away from her parents?” Ely frowned. “That’s daring, almost cold.”
“Catherine knew it was only just for some fun. It was going to be a week of exploring each other, and then I would leave, no hard feelings.” St Ives spread his hands. “Catherine knew and understood. I admit that I wasn’t able to follow through on my part, but I get it wasn’t meant to be.”
“From what I saw and what I overheard while I was at dinner that evening, Catherine Jennings wants much more than just an affair, Nicholas. I heard her saying that to her mother. She wants to be the one who ties you down in a marriage.”
Marriage. The word made St Ives shudder.
“All the more reason to keep away from her now. She’s going to start demanding things that I can’t give her.”
At least nothing had happened. They hadn’t even kissed due to Ely interrupting them. Catherine couldn’t get anything out of that if she did want more. She might twist the promise of a brief affair into something else, but St Ives didn’t want to hang around to find out if she could. It was best to keep his distance from her for the time being until he was sure things had died down.
With Catherine, though, that could take a while.
“You do realize that all women are going to get attached to you once you’ve seduced them, Nicholas.”
“They don’t. And there are never any hard feelings.” St Ives was confident on that. “Anyway, Catherine isn’t going to get attached. Whatever she tells her parents isn’t going to happen.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Ely plucked another blossom off his twig and watched it flutter down into the pond, where it landed on a lily pad. “I have a feeling if you keep leading her on, it’s going to get worse for you. Especially when you’ve had your attention caught by a village girl. It can all get twisted and might hurt everyone involved.”
“I’ve got it handled.”
“Really?”
The two friends stared at each other. St Ives knew that Ely would always be on his side, but it did smart when his friend doubted his abilities. They had trusted each other in their various escapades over the years. But in recent months, Ely had withdrawn himself from his rakish behaviour. He was less talkative about his conquests, although he was quite happy to listen to St Ives. Having his closest friend of nearly thirty years stepping back and warning St Ives that his actions were going to come with consequences that he wouldn’t be able to handle.
Did Ely think that St Ives was getting out of his depth? St Ives didn’t think he was. He was just curious and wanted to see what there was about Jemima Place that made her capture his attention. If he could figure it out, then he could decide what to do. Seducing a village girl was going to be a challenge, but it could be done. St Ives wanted to try.
He wasn’t letting a woman like Jemima disappear as soon as she reappeared.
#
Jemima paid the woman behind the counter and picked up the parcel. Giving the woman a smile, she stepped outside into the sunshine. Georgiana was waiting outside on the pavement. Her eyes drifted to the parcel tucked under Jemima’s arm.
“You got it, then?”
“I certainly did.” Jemima opened one end of the parcel and showed her friend the pale blue fabric. “I was lucky.”
Georgiana reached out and rubbed the fabric between her finger and thumb.
“It’s gorgeous, Jemima. You’re going to look beautiful in that.”
Jemima beamed. She had been saving for a while to get this particular fabric to make a new dress. Her current dress she used for dances and dinners would fall apart if she sewed it up again. It would be nice to have a new dress that looked like she was actually a lady. And the lady working in the shop said it was the last of the fabric, so Jemima had come in at the right time.
She couldn’t wait to get home and start on it while Elizabeth was playing the piano. Irritating as she was, her little sister was really good, and the music was soothing enough to work to. Jemima was sure Elizabeth might ask her to make her a dress, but Jemima wasn’t about to do that; if Elizabeth wanted a dress, she could make one herself.
Not that she needs to. Our parents buy her a dress on a whim. Yet they won’t buy one for me.
Jemima pushed that thought away. She didn’t like to be reminded that she was treated less favourably because she chose not to marry by the time she was twenty. Her parents said they loved her, but their actions towards her said they were disappointed. Jemima didn’t care that she didn’t marry when they wanted, but she did care that they treated her differently.
She needed to stop thinking about it, or she was going to get upset again.
“I love this fabric, Jemima,” Georgiana gushed, trying to tug the fabric out of the parcel. Jemima slapped her hand away.
“Get your own. I bought this for me and only me.”
“Don’t worry; I’m not going to steal it.” Georgiana gestured at the dress shop across the street. “Are you going to make a dress like the one in the window for yourself?”
“Of course.” Jemima folded the parcel paper over the fabric and headed down the street with Georgiana, nodding at the couple coming the other way. “I know what to do. And I can make it look like it was made by the best seamstresses in the county.”
Appearances were everything, and while Jemima didn’t particularly care when it came to her outfits, her mother did. And Jemima wanted to make Mrs Place happy. She had a good eye, and she followed the latest fashions. This would be perfect for her.
She knew what needed to be done. It wouldn’t take long to make, providing she wasn’t distracted. And it would be very soothing. Jemima loved to make things, and she found something calming in making her own clothes. Her grandmother had been a seamstress, and she had taught Jemima a lot. They had spent hours when Jemima was a child sitting in her grandmother’s sewing, making dresses for dolls or little things like headbands and gloves. Jemima was at her most comfortable when she had a needle in her hands, much like Elizabeth was most comfortable playing the piano.
“I wish I were good at sewing like you,” Georgiana said with a shake of her head. “My things just fall apart soon after I’ve made them. I leave my mother in despair.”
Jemima laughed.
“I’m sure you do. I’ve seen your finished products.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side, Jemima. Say that I’m not bad at sewing, and it can happen with practise.”
“Why? It hasn’t worked the last few times I’ve said it.”
Georgiana pouted.
“Spoilsport.”
Jemima laughed. She was feeling lighter in spirits since getting that confounded journal off her hands. It felt better to know that it was in someone else’s possession and not taking up space under her mattress. Jemima had struggled to sleep for those few nights in the fear that Elizabeth would end up finding it. She had felt it poking at her through the mattress as well.
Jemima had needed to grit her teeth and assure her mother that she was fine while trying not to openly yawn in other people’s company. It had been a struggle to focus on Elizabeth’s lessons, although Elizabeth was now mostly self-taught because she chose not to listen to her sister.
Now it was gone, and Jemima felt better. It had been three days since she returned it to the Earl of St Ives, and she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Sleep had certainly improved, although not entirely. Because now she had something else taking up her thoughts.
The handsome earl.
At a distance, Jemima could appreciate the man was good-looking. He was certainly easy on the eye. But up close, Jemima had taken in how strong and robust he was, the firm lines in his face and the slight curve to his mouth. His dark eyes seemed to darken more as he surveyed her, practically looking her up and down. The gleam she saw indicated that he liked what he was looking at. And then, when pressed up against his body, Jemima had felt how hard and solid his frame was against hers.
Especially a part further down. Jemima had almost frozen when she realized that she was pressed up against his hips. The man definitely found her attractive, but she had never experienced that type of reaction. And it was making her feel warm all over, thinking about it right now.
It had stopped her from having a decent night’s sleep. Because the Earl kept turning up at inopportune moments. He could be dressed, partly dressed, or naked; it would change each time. But the way he touched her, kissed her and undressed her while whispering sweet nothings in her ear stayed the same. And it always had Jemima waking up sweating. She was just glad Elizabeth didn’t wake up as well; otherwise, there would be a lot of questions.
Jemima was not going to tell her sister that she was having a lot of dreams about a man she had barely interacted with but had shaken her to the core.
Why had this even happened? Why were her body and emotions changing regarding the Earl of St Ives? Surely, it was just a reaction to knowing the man found her physically attractive. This was just her response.
It was going to calm down soon. She wasn’t likely to see the Earl again. They weren’t going to be moving in the same circles anytime soon, so this reaction was just going to ease off soon. It had to. Jemima couldn’t have dreams like that again, not with her sister sleeping across the room.
