A Gentleman for Lady Juniper (Clairvoir Castle #6)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

O ne unfortunate circumstance to being an unwed lady related to a baroness was the numerous social obligations that came with that connection. As Juniper lived in the same household as Lady Ivy Frost, Baroness Dunmore, she often found herself a companion to her sister. Betony, though only slightly younger, avoided many of Ivy’s outings by pointing out it was really Juniper who ought to get out into Society more.

Thus Juniper found herself once again in a grand drawing room, where Lady Roswell hosted the monthly meeting for the Ladies Charitable Aid to the Unfortunate Women and Children of London Society. It was one of Ivy’s preferred groups because, despite their ridiculously long name, they did a great deal of good for impoverished widows and their children.

The furnishings in Lady Roswell’s townhome were elegant, well-made, and rather modest for a countess of her standing. The woman herself, nearing seventy years of age, had greeted each arriving member of the Committee for Literacy with warmth. The entirety of the committee sat in a dozen chairs arranged in a semi-circle before the fireplace, discussing their efforts to procure funding for a school that educated both grown women and their children.

Juniper, not truly an official member of the committee, had excused herself to sit in a chair near the window, where she could listen to the going’s on without feeling on display. Several daughters and companions of the ladies present were scattered about the room, some in their own conversational corners, others seeking a thoughtful solitude like Juniper.

The gentle murmur of voices with only the occasional clink of teacup meeting saucer, lulled her into thoughts unrelated to the worthy cause under discussion.

Staring out the window at the dismal gray sky, wishing March had brought with it brighter weather, Juniper closed the book she’d brought with her and held it to her chest. It was another of Mr. Grey’s books, one in which the heroine’s grandmother appeared as a ghost to lead her to a family diary. It was a favorite of hers, read more than a handful of times before. Perhaps the familiarity was what made it difficult for her to keep her attention today on its pages.

Instead, she found herself thinking of Jack Sterling. Their last two interactions had been far friendlier than she had thought herself likely to experience. He was kind, as always; conscientious, mindful of the comfort and safety of others, and ever the gentleman. But he’d been a touch more than that, too.

He’d complimented her. Laughed with her—even bantered, somewhat, and allowed her glimpses of his far too infrequent smile. Perhaps she was, like the heroine in an overly dramatic book devoid of common sense, reading too much into things.

A stirring behind her alerted her to the ladies’ usual break when they reached the halfway point of their agenda. That meant she could either leave her cozy chair and risk conversation, or remain in place and pretend absorption in her book. As she’d spent the whole of the day before in company with people, she did not find herself prepared to take on yet more interaction. Best to sit quietly, then.

Juniper tried to concentrate on the pages of her book, ignoring the laughter and conversations behind her, yet her mind drifted away again to thoughts of Jack. What would he say when next they spoke? They were to take dinner together, their two families with Mr. and Mrs. Grey. Jack’s invitation had thrilled her, for more than one reason. The thought of sitting at a table both with him and her favorite author made her head spin.

Truly, though…it was Jack she looked forward to seeing again the most.

It was then that a softly-spoken phrase caught her ear, pulling her from her flights of fancy.

“No, the Sterling family—the new Earl of Benwaith. I had heard they were in trade before, but I have come to learn that they were little better than farmers.”

Another female voice answered, “Oh, them . Yes. The first word I had of them was that they hung their washing out the windows. I could not believe it.”

“That is hardly as disruptive as the other things they have been about. Do you know, they have had several important families call upon them, and be seen with them in Society, to the point that they believe themselves above the rest of us?”

“Truly? I had heard that they were making appropriate house calls.”

“Oh yes, to Lord Hartwell, the ambassador Lord Atella, Lord Dunmore, and others—but now they parade about as though they are equal to their company due to more than an accident of rank.” The voice lowered its volume, though her words still carried across the room. “The unmarried daughter, Lady Emily, has apparently been seen gadding about alone and in public with all manner of gentlemen, only to spurn them when they show any sort of genuine interest. ”

“Surely not.”

“Rumor also has it that part of the reason for their rapid rise in popularity is because of the Duke of Montfort.”

At this point, Juniper realized she frowned so fiercely that her head ached. Who were these women, saying such horrid things about the Sterling family? Ought she to do something about it?

“Why would His Grace care a whit about them?” the lesser-informed of the two voices asked.

“The youngest Mr. Sterling used to hold a position on the duke’s household staff…as a footman.”

“No!”

“Yes. Why would a duke waste even a moment’s thought on such a man? I think he must fear that the former footman knows something, perhaps scandalous, about the family.”

Juniper clutched at the arms of the chair, clenching her jaw shut to keep from bursting out in fury at them. How could they—where was Ivy, she had to say something!

“Do you truly think he would blackmail a duke?”

The haughty voice’s owner sniffed. “A footman one moment, a gentleman the next? Of course it is a reasonable supposition. The man—indeed, the whole family—has no concept of what it truly means to be noble. They are playing at it, and they are getting away with it.”

“I sincerely doubt they will, not for long. The people who matter most in Society will never truly accept them.”

Would saying something make matters worse? Juniper squeezed her eyes shut. She’d heard naught but unfounded rumor and the truth, mixed up together. Jack had been a footman. The Duke of Montfort had indeed put the family forward, despite his absence from London. The Sterling family had lived on a farm, content to tend to their land and naught else…yet everything had sounded so horrid coming from that woman’s mouth .

“Ah, Lady Dunmore,” the haughty-voiced woman said. “We were just discussing some acquaintances of yours. Your family has been in company with the Sterlings of late, yes?”

“Oh, indeed,” came her sister’s voice. “The Sterlings have been quite busy this Season, have they not? It seems everyone is talking about them and their foray into Society.”

Juniper winced. Nothing her sister said was damning, but in light of all she had heard, her sister’s words almost felt like confirmation of what the other ladies had said.

“Indeed. It seems they are seen everywhere, and always in the best company,” the other gossiping woman said.

“Perhaps we ought to see if the countess would care to join our society?” Ivy’s suggestion was not exactly ignored, but instead met with a quick change in topic.

“I do believe we ought to rejoin the others—oh goodness, look at the time, we will never accomplish anything if we continue to enjoy the refreshments and company rather than pay attention to our agenda.”

The ladies’ voices withdrew, and soon the murmuring quieted again as the chair of the committee called everyone back to order.

Juniper remained where she was, staring blankly at the window rather than through it. Guilt smote her heart. She should have risen, should have said something to the women to discredit their unkind suppositions.

Was it her place to shield Jack and his family, though? For an unmarried woman to do so, openly, while contradicting women of higher standing than herself with whom she was not acquainted…that was likely to have the opposite effect of what she hoped. What had been the alternative, though? Sitting in silence as she had felt wrong, too.

After a vain attempt to swallow back her discomfort, Juniper rehearsed all she had heard in her mind. She could see no point when she might have stood and said a word. The situation continued to vex her when Ivy collected her, after the meeting, to take her home again.

After they climbed into the carriage, Ivy gave her a concerned look. “Are you all right, dear? You look rather somber.”

“I am fine. Merely a bit tired, that is all.” The lie didn’t settle well, and Ivy seemed prepared to press more, but Juniper hastily shook her head. “I need to rest. I will be well after a nap, I am certain.”

“All right,” her sister said softly. “Do tell me if there is anything I might do to give you greater comfort.”

“Thank you, Ivy.” She fell silent for the brief ride back to their townhouse, and went directly to her room to pretend to rest. But one of the final things those horrid ladies had said—that the Sterlings would never be accepted by those who mattered—swirled about to the forefront of her mind again.

“What if they’re right?” she said to herself in a low voice as she sat on the edge of her bed. What if the Sterlings were not accepted? Even with their title and funds? It would be a rather bleak future for all of them if Society suspected them of ill deeds, accused them of poor manners, and dwelt upon their humble beginnings. It was all such a mess.

And what could Juniper do about any of it?

At dinner with a table full of guests, Jack kept his attention on his plate; or at least, he tried to. The Earl of Benwaith’s dining room was a stuffy, formal room that any English nobleman would be proud of—elegant chandeliers bathed the table in softly flickering light, the portraits on the walls looked on with grim satisfaction, and the dishes themselves were delicious. Best of all, across from him Lady Juniper Amberton sat, and though he knew better than to stare, his eyes strayed far too often in her direction.

Her head was tilted slightly toward Mr. Grey, who Jack had managed to convince his mother to sit beside her. The writer—whose novels Juniper was clearly fond of—continued to speak with a slight stutter but seemed more than pleased to engage in her discussion. Jack couldn’t hear every word of what they were saying, but snippets floated across the table.

“Your last novel,” Juniper said, her familiar voice warm, “kept me up late into the night to finish. That final visitation at the end—the grandmother’s ghost guiding the heroine—it was so unexpected. How do you think of such things?”

Mr. Grey flushed slightly at her praise, his fingers gripping his wine glass. “It c-c-came to me,” he began, then paused, collecting himself, “w-when I was visiting my f-f-family home, up north, in Harbottle. A dash of inspiration, I s-suppose.” He glanced at his wife, seated beside Jack, and Mrs. Grey bestowed a delighted smile upon him.

The two were clearly besotted with each other, an encouraging thing to see for a gentleman and gentlewoman of the middle class.

Jack pretended to focus on the conversation Lord Dunmore was having with Mrs. Grey to his left, but his attention drifted back to Juniper. She was lively in her conversation, but never in an overly distracting way. Her smile was soft, her gestures graceful, yet somehow she commanded Jack’s attention even when she wasn’t looking his way.

How was it that she could be so engaging, so effortlessly lovely? He’d always known her to be kind, a lover of books and art, but lately, something had shifted…or perhaps it was he who had changed, noticing more than just the quiet beauty she carried within her. What was it that drew him to her? Was it the way she leaned in when speaking, her sincerity clear in every word? Or the spark of wit she’d shown the few times they’d ex changed banter? There was a joyful cleverness to her that he enjoyed seeing every time they interacted.

Juniper laughed softly at something Mr. Grey said, and Jack’s heart skipped a beat. He’d seen her smile so many times before and thought her an attractive woman, but now it felt somehow…different. She was no longer just Lady Juniper, someone so far removed from his reach that he could admire her from afar without consequence. Now she sat here, across from him, close enough to touch.

And he found himself wanting—more than anything—to be the reason for that smile.

“I am glad you enjoy the Gothic novels,” Mr. Grey was saying. “W-Writing them is an e-e-escape of sorts. Though,” he gave her a sheepish grin, “I hope I haven’t given you too much anxiety as you read them.”

Juniper’s eyes sparkled. “Only the enjoyable kind, Mr. Grey. You do have a habit of crafting such excellent suspense, leaving me guessing until the very last page.”

Jack smiled to himself, listening to her warmly tease the author. She had that way about her, didn’t she? A way of making people feel at ease, drawing them in with her cordiality.

Could this—being near her, seeing her every day, sharing the small moments of life—could this be his future? The thought had struck Jack before when he wasn’t paying attention, but now it landed with full force.

He could imagine it, even if it felt impossible. Sitting across the dinner table from Juniper every evening, with or without guests, seeing her smile and hearing all her thoughts on books, the theater, what she had seen and done that day…he was sorely tempted by the idea of making it a permanent arrangement. Was there any chance at all she would be interested in such a future?

But even as he asked himself the question, he discovered what he desired. He respected her, admired her mind, her kindness. And if she could ever look at him as something more than the former footman or a family friend, if she could see him as he saw her...

His pulse quickened at the mere thought.

“Perhaps I will have to convince you, Mr. Grey, to write a gentler novel to put all your readers at ease, just the once,” Juniper was saying, her smile soft, eyes glancing briefly in Jack’s direction. She met his gaze, and for a moment, he thought she held it longer than she needed to.

Perhaps there was a reason for him to hope.

The ladies departed before Jack had taken in that dessert had even been served, and he sat dazedly through the port and cigars without being able to contribute much to the conversation. As the gentlemen entered the drawing room to join the ladies, the low hum of conversation filling the room that had his mother’s touch on each article within, making it far more comfortable an atmosphere for his family. The fire crackled gently in the hearth, and the candlelight made even the shadows seem soft.

He stood near the window, looking out over the back garden, alert for any movement that did not belong—as he ever would be, he supposed, for the rest of his life. He could not make his watchfulness leave him. It had become part of his nature.

Juniper appeared at his side, glancing up at him, one of her engaging smiles in place. “Mr. Sterling, you have been very quiet this evening,” she said, eyebrows lifted, her voice low enough for only him to hear. “I hope you have not grown tired of our company.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Not at all, Lady Juniper. I find myself enjoying the evening and the conversation.”

“Even when you are not part of it?” she asked, her tone curious. Her fingers brushed along the edge of the windowpane.

“Especially then,” he admitted quietly. “I am rather used to listening and observing. It is as much preference as habit now, it would seem.”

For a moment, they simply stood there saying nothing, but something unspoken passed in that glance. Her eyes softened and she lowered her gaze, but Jack had felt that moment of connection as surely as he would the heat of a fire on his skin. Although the room was full of people, full of laughter and conversation, for that brief moment it felt as though it was empty except for the two of them, standing alone near the night-darkened window.

Then he saw a slight crease form between her brows.

Juniper cast a quick glance around the room before speaking softly. “Mr. Sterling, may I ask you something?”

Jack turned to face her fully, still held aloft by the feel of what had passed between them. “Of course, my lady. What is on your mind?”

She hesitated, fingers lightly brushing at a curl of her hair. “I…I overheard something the other day. At a charity meeting I attended with my sister.”

Her words drew his attention but he smiled easily, unable to imagine more than a minor concern prompted such a tone from her. His own emotions were too bright, too warm in her company, and could not immediately shift to worry. “What was it?”

Juniper took a breath, clearly collecting her thoughts. “They…they were remarks about your family. About your rise in Society. I did not wish to trouble you with it, but I thought perhaps you should know.”

Jack blinked, the shift in tone not fully settling within him. His mood was still light and he found himself almost chuckling at the thought of it. “Remarks? About my family?” He shook his head slightly. “I imagine there is plenty of gossip about us, as we expected. We are yet a novelty in the ton , after all. People are curious. Something new will catch their attention soon enough. ”

Juniper frowned, as though not satisfied with his response. “It was not mere curiosity I heard,” she continued quietly. “They questioned your family’s propriety. Your right to be among them.”

Jack’s smile faltered for a brief moment. He glanced around the room, still feeling the warmth of the evening. What harm could anonymous people’s words do to him, standing here in the glow of Juniper’s company? “People will always question things they do not understand. But we have been welcomed by those who matter—thanks to His Grace the Duke. We will have to continue to prove ourselves to the rest.”

Juniper’s brow furrowed further, frustration evidently starting to seep in. “They were so unkind. It was not fair in the least.”

Jack’s gaze softened as he looked at her, still not fully grasping the weight of her distress. He reached out to lightly touch her arm, offering reassurance. “I know it bothers you, Juniper, but trust me—it is nothing. Let them talk. All will improve with time.”

“They mentioned Emily in particular,” she said, voice a mere whisper. “By name.”

Jack’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, he could see the depth of her worry. He frowned, his good mood dampened but not entirely dismissed. “And what would you have me do, Lady Juniper? Chase after every whisper and set it straight?”

“I don’t know,” she replied softly, “but I don’t want to see you or your family hurt by such untruths.”

“So did you say anything to refute those who spoke?”

At that, her skin turned pale. She pressed her lips together and shook her head, and a prick of disappointment touched his heart. Yet she had well proved his point.

“At times, it is best to say nothing.” He softened his tone. “It means a great deal to me that you care so much.” He paused, his tone softening. “But I promise you, we will be well enough. The people who delight in such gossip do not know us and they do not matter, so long as our friends continue to stand by our side.”

Juniper stared at him, the lingering look of unease still upon her lovely face, but Jack’s calm, steady confidence remained. He had no wish for her to worry; he certainly did enough of that on his own. He would examine her words later. In the moment, he wanted to enjoy her company and nothing more.

She offered him a reluctant smile. “I suppose you are right. I just... I wish people could know you—your family, I meant to say, the way I do.”

Jack’s breath hitched at her words and his eyes searched hers. The unspoken connection between them flickered again, warmer and brighter.

“If they did,” he said quietly, his voice thick with meaning, “then I’d consider myself very fortunate indeed.”

For a moment, the room seemed to fade around them, the crackle of the fire and the soft murmurs of conversation blending into the background. Juniper held his gaze, her earlier worries still obviously present, but softened by the feeling growing between them.

And then the moment passed, and Jack straightened, returning to his usual self with a slight smile. “Now,” he said, his voice lighter, “shall we return to our guests? I believe Lord Dunmore is trying to convince Mr. Grey to share the inspiration for his next novel.”

Juniper let out a quiet laugh, the tension easing from her shoulders, though not entirely disappearing. “Yes, we should.”

She took his offered arm, and as they moved back into the center of the room, he wondered if the rumors would prove worth her worry. But he was simply too happy that night to let it ruin the moment.