A Gentleman for Lady Juniper (Clairvoir Castle #6)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

J ack paced restlessly across the sitting room, his shoes thudding dully against the polished floor. The early afternoon light streamed in through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the room. His mother, Lady Benwaith, sat in her favorite chair near the hearth, needle in hand as she worked on mending one of his father’s shirts. Her fingers moved deftly, and the rhythmic motion of the needle should have been calming—but it only heightened Jack’s irritation.

A countess should not mend shirts…yet he could not begrudge her the familiarity of the task. She much preferred it to embroidery.

“No callers again today,” he muttered, pausing near the mantelpiece and glancing toward the door, wondering when it would admit guests for his sister once more. “Just the same as yesterday. And the day before that. It is as though they have all forgotten us.”

Lady Benwaith didn’t look up from her stitching. “Not forgotten, dear. After all, everyone cannot visit everyone every day. People are simply distracted with other matters, I am sure.”

“Distracted,” he repeated with a bitter edge to his tone. “It is not distraction, it is their precious reputations they are worried about. The same people who once flocked to us with curiosity are now avoiding us entirely.” He resumed his pacing, hands flexing at his sides as though searching for something to do.

His family did not seem nearly as concerned as he was. They acted as though they had but to weather the storm, rather than meet the trouble in battle. Truthfully, he did not know which method was best. He had hoped, after the ride in the park at the height of the popular time for it, with ladies of standing speaking happily with Emily, things would have improved.

They had not.

His patience had utterly fled him, likely because Emily was involved. He wanted— needed— to protect his family.

Lady Benwaith’s needle paused for a fraction of a second before she continued her work. “You know how Society is better than I do, Jack. You said they were fickle. So we are seeing it—the novelty of our family’s elevation has worn off, and now some are waiting to see if we truly belong.” She glanced up, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “Our new friends stand by us and invited us to their homes. As for the rest, they will come around in time.”

“They had better,” he grumbled. “I have had enough of seeing Emily’s disappointment every time another day goes by without a single caller or invitation from the ladies who ought to be her peers.” He gestured toward the shirt in her lap. It was a mark of his irritation that he spoke of it at all, given how he knew she felt about it. “And that mending is not going to change their minds, either. We could easily have one of the servants take care of it—what if someone were to call, and they saw you acting the part of maid?”

Lady Benwaith considered him with a calmness that belied his own frustration. “I prefer to do it myself,” she replied, her tone placid. “And I do not think the state of your father’s shirts is the problem we need to solve.” She threaded the needle through the fabric again. “But if you are so eager to be of use, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Jack arched an eyebrow, the prospect of a distraction more pleasant than it ought to be. “What sort of a favor?”

She glanced toward the small bookshelf near the window where a few worn volumes of old poetry and dry historical texts sat untouched. “Go out and find me something interesting to read,” she said, folding the shirt in her lap and considering the hem. “Something new. Not the stuffy old things we have in this house. I am quite tired of the dry topics of history and etiquette.”

He frowned. “A book? That is all you want?”

Lady Benwaith chuckled softly. “Yes, a book. If you are determined to brood, you may as well do it while on an errand.” Her gaze softened as she looked up at him. “It would be good for you to get out of the house. Go on, Jack. Get some exercise.”

Jack hesitated, but his mother’s kind expression made it difficult to refuse. At least it would give him something to do, a distraction from the slow, silent collapse of their social standing. “Very well.” He gave her a resigned smile. “I will find you something entertaining to read.”

“Good.” She resumed her stitching with a satisfied nod. “And perhaps, while you are out, you might also consider finding something interesting for yourself. One can never have too many distractions at times when the only thing to do is practice patience.”

“Yes, Mother.” Jack sighed before heading toward the door, determined to make the most of this errand. If nothing else, as she said, it would get him out of the house—and he already had a thought for the sort of book he would like to find for himself.

Hatchard’s wasn’t the only bookstore in London, but it was the most popular. He betook himself there, on foot, as it was less than a mile away.

At first, the brisk walk did little to ease the knot of frustration coiled tightly in Jack’s chest. As he strode along the busy London streets, he struggled to push his dark mood aside. It seemed so pointless to keep circling back to the same problem: the coldness they were facing from Society, the curt nods, and stilted greetings. Emily’s waning invitations were only the latest symptom of a deeper issue: their family’s struggle to find a place among the nobility when whispers about their origins and recent actions hung like a fog in the background. He could practically feel the stares pressing against his back as he walked, the burden of judgment and exclusion.

He scowled at himself for allowing his thoughts to fester. He hadn’t always cared so much for the opinions of strangers. But then, he hadn’t always had something—or rather, someone—to lose.

His thoughts turned inexorably to Juniper.

Her warmth had been like firelight in the gloom these past weeks. Her smile had lifted Emily’s spirits during that ride in the park and she had spoken with such easy kindness, not a hint of condescension in her manner. She had a way of looking at him that made him feel seen and understood, as if she knew the weight he carried and did not judge him for it. Her words in defense of his family against those cruel whispers had lingered in his mind ever since.

He let out a breath, his steps faltering as he crossed the street. How many times had he reviewed that conversation? The moment their gazes had met and he’d seen the fire in her eyes when she’d spoken in his family’s defense? A part of him dared to hope, even to imagine, that she might share his feelings. For a moment, he entertained the idea. A connection to her, to her family, could prove a boon of respectability to the Sterlings. Juniper would help him, too. He knew she would. And yet…

Jack shook his head and quickened his pace, as if he could outrun the longing he felt. No. He could not think like that. Not while his family’s standing was so precarious, not while his sister’s prospects hung in the balance. He couldn’t afford to pursue his own happiness at the cost of Emily’s, or their family’s reputation. Not when any false move could set tongues wagging anew. And there was always further to fall in Society, and if the cold distance from others became outright scandal, then Juniper would be dragged down with them if she were to attach herself to him.

He wrestled with himself, torn between his growing affection for Juniper and the voice of reason that warned him to keep his distance. There would be time enough to think of her once they steadied their footing. He repeated the words like a soldier’s mantra. Still, they rang hollow.

Jack had no thought for how long it would take matters to ‘settle.’ How many months—or years—before the whispers about his family ceased? What if the opportunity to pursue Juniper slipped through his fingers while he waited? There had to be other potential suitors for such a woman. At the thought, his chest tightened painfully.

No. He would not dwell on it. It was his duty to look after his family first, to protect them from the scorn of the Society they meant to join. Juniper deserved more than a man whose family stood on such uncertain ground.

And yet, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. She had already seen the trouble, and still she stood beside him.

Jack stepped into Hatchard’s, the familiar scent of paper and leather-bound volumes filling the air. The shop was quiet today, with few patrons and fewer clerks. The quiet atmosphere ought to have soothed his mind but as he made his way to the counter, waiting for a clerk to be free, his thoughts circled back to the persistent worries which clung to him like fog.

He stood at the counter, glancing absently at the nearby shelves while a clerk assisted another customer. His thoughts wandered, wrestling with the conversation he’d had with his mother and the tumultuous feelings he harbored for Juniper .

Before he could dwell too long on those thoughts, a familiar and most welcome voice floated through the doorway at the back of the shop.

“Henry, you take those to the clerk. Tell him to have them added to Lord Dunmore’s account and sent to his residence.”

The sound of Juniper’s voice cut through the silence like a ray of sunlight breaking through clouds. Jack’s heart gave a sharp kick as he turned toward the back rooms, where the stacks of books reached almost to the ceiling and the narrow aisles wound their way among tables heaped with volumes.

He hesitated for a moment, standing beyond the threshold of the doorway. There she was: Lady Juniper Amberton, her back partially turned to him as she handed a modest stack of books to a young footman. Her gown was a soft shade of blue which suited her perfectly, and her hair, tucked mostly beneath a prim bonnet, framed her lovely face. She was the only patron in this room at the rear of the store.

She spoke to the footman with an easy, unhurried grace, as though she had all the time in the world. “Be sure they are properly wrapped. The last time, one of the books was slightly damp when it arrived.”

The footman bowed and came toward Jack with the stack, nodding respectfully before stepping around him.

Jack’s pulse quickened. What were the odds that he would run into her here, of all places, on his mother’s errand? He was torn between the impulse to step forward and greet her, and the need to steel himself against the rush of longing that always accompanied the sight of her. It was absurd, really, to think that a mere chance meeting could bring him this kind of relief, as though her presence alone lifted the clouds that pressed on his mind.

Then, as though sensing his gaze, Juniper glanced over her shoulder—and her eyes met his. For a moment, her expression was one of mild surprise, then her lips curved into a smile, warm and unmistakably genuine.

“Mr. Sterling,” she greeted him, her voice carrying a hint of delight that made his heart ache. “What a pleasant surprise. I did not expect to see you here.”

Jack took a step forward, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at his own lips. “Nor did I expect to find myself here,” he admitted. “I was dispatched by my mother to find a new book for her. Apparently the selection available at the house is too dreary for her taste.”

Juniper’s eyes brightened with amusement. “Well, that simply will not do. We cannot have Lady Benwaith suffering from a lack of interesting reading material.”

She turned fully, her attention completely upon him, and Jack felt the familiar tug of attraction and something deeper…something he dared not name.

He approached her, maintaining a respectful distance. “And what brings you here today?” he asked, glancing over at the stack of books Henry had taken from her. “Stocking your own library, or are you on an errand as well?”

“A little of both, I suppose,” she replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I was selecting some volumes for Lord Dunmore’s collection. He has been encouraging his sister Fiona to read more novels and poetry, but I could not resist choosing a few for myself as well.”

Jack nodded, taking a moment to admire the way she spoke with such fondness for her family. “As I know you to have excellent taste, perhaps you could recommend something suitable for my mother? She specifically asked for something interesting—nothing dry or overly serious.”

Juniper tilted her head, considering the question. “Let me think,” she said, glancing around the shelves nearby. “There is a new volume of romantic poems that I was tempted by myself—it might suit your mother’s tastes, if she enjoys a little sentimentality. Or there’s a rather thrilling Gothic novel that I finished reading myself last evening. Dark, mysterious, and just the right amount of suspense to keep a reader up late. You may in fact know the author.”

Jack couldn’t help but smile at the ease with which she made suggestions, her enthusiasm shining through her words. “I think the poems might be what she needs,” he said, his voice soft. “And perhaps the novel for myself, if only to see what it is that keeps you up late reading.”

He was flirting. Outright. In public. With Juniper.

Juniper laughed quietly, a sound that made his chest tighten. “Then I certainly hope it does not disappoint,” she said, her eyes meeting his again, a hint of something like affection in them.

The bustle of the bookshop faded from Jack’s perception as they stood there, the two of them in a moment of unexpected connection. His earlier frustrations were forgotten, replaced by a warmth that was as unfamiliar as it was welcome. Even as the moment lingered, he knew his duty to his family remained unchanged. He could not forget the duties waiting for him at home.

Yet, standing there with Juniper, he found he wished to never leave her side.

She turned away, picking up a book, and held it out to him. He took it mechanically, his hand covering hers. Despite the gloves they both wore, a thrill passed through him at the touch. He met her gaze and his heart stuttered.

They were so close.

And he might not get another chance like this ever again. Jack drew her closer, holding both Juniper’s hand and the book, looking down into her beautiful, upturned face like a man starved for the sight of her—the taste of her. Madness must have overtaken him in that far too public place.

Because taste her, he did.

Juniper’s breath caught in her throat, the world narrowing to the sensation of Jack’s lips on hers. The kiss was so unexpected, so bold, that it took her a moment to catch up with the joy that surged through her chest at the press of his lips to hers. Her pulse fluttered wildly, and she leaned into him without thinking, her hand splayed against the warmth of his coat. She felt as if she were tumbling into something both thrilling and terrifying.

As quickly as the kiss started, he ended it by drawing back. It was over far too soon, leaving her lips tingling and her heart racing with exhilaration—and then falling with disappointment. She stared up at him, breathless, aching for more. There was a look in his eyes she hadn’t seen before: wild and unguarded, so different from the composed, stoic gentleman she had come to know. It was as though a storm raged behind his gaze, a tempest that defied all the careful restraint he usually displayed.

“Jack?” she whispered, barely recognizing her own voice. It came out tentative, like a plea. She wanted him to kiss her again, to chase away any doubts, to show her that the connection between them was real. That she hadn’t imagined any of it.

Jack didn’t move. He merely stared down at her, his breath coming quickly, his expression a mixture of longing and something darker—regret, perhaps, or conflict? The wildness in his eyes faded as he looked away, his jaw tightening as though he struggled to regain control over himself.

Juniper felt a pang of disappointment, sharp and swift, as if a cool wind had blown between them. She had thought—no, she had hoped—that this moment would unfold differently; that it might be the beginning of something beautiful. Yet here he was, keeping himself from her when everything in her wanted him to draw closer .

She took a small step back, her hand falling away from his chest though her fingers ached to stay. “I—” Her voice faltered, and she searched his face for some hint of his thoughts, some sign of his thoughts. Then she gave up the search, taking hold of her courage instead. Why not be bold? “Why did you stop?”

He winced, but met her gaze again. “I shouldn’t have done that in the first place,” he said, his voice rough and low as though the words pained him. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the edge of her sleeve: unable to quite let her go, yet unwilling to take her hand. “You deserve better than this. Better than a kiss stolen in a bookshop.”

Her disappointment deepened, mixing with frustration. “Better?” She shook her head, a faint, rueful smile tugging at her lips. “And what if I enjoyed that kiss, Jack? What if I want even more?”

The words hung in the air between them, daring him to respond, to take the leap she so desperately wished him to—but even as she spoke them, she saw his expression change, doubt crossing his features.

“Juniper, I…” He broke off, his gaze sliding away from hers as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. When he spoke again his tone was gentler, though still edged with a doubt she found so uncharacteristic. “I cannot ask you to take such risks with me. My family’s position is too uncertain, and I cannot allow my feelings to jeopardize your reputation. You deserve more than I can offer at this time and if someone had seen?—”

A flicker of hurt flared in her chest, but she quelled it. “Do not presume to decide what is best for me, Jack,” she said, her tone firm. “You are not protecting me by holding back whatever it is you wish to say. You are only making us both unhappy.”

The raw emotion that flashed in his eyes at her words sent a shiver down her spine. For a heartbeat, Juniper thought he might step forward again, close the distance between them and kiss her as she longed for. But instead he heaved a sigh, as though the incumbrance of all his responsibilities were pressing down upon him.

“I must think of my family,” he murmured, almost to himself, as though reminding himself of his duty. Then his gaze flickered back to her, and there the regret lingered. When he spoke, it was with an unfamiliar formality. “Lady Juniper. I did not mean to make this difficult. My actions were inappropriate. Inexcusable. Please, forgive me.”

She swallowed the bitter disappointment that threatened to choke her. “Very well,” she said, forcing a small, brittle smile to her lips. “But do not expect me to simply forget what happened, Mr . John Sterling. I am not one to let a moment like this slip away without a fight.”

For a long moment, he simply looked at her, and she thought she saw the faintest glimmer of hope in his eyes.

And then he took a step back, the distance between them a chasm. “We should return to the front of the shop,” he said, his expression far too composed. “I would not wish for anyone to suspect ill of you.”

“Very well.” Juniper looked at the shelves and plucked up the book of poetry for his mother. She handed it to him, a challenge in her eyes. “Do not forget this.”

He took the slim volume, avoiding touching her this time, and added it to the novel in his hand. “Thank you. My mother will be grateful.”

As he turned to lead the way to the front of the shop, the sting of their almost-happily-ever-after lingered in her heart. This was not the end. She would not let it be. She would not act like those silly heroines in her novels who remained silent when it would only take a word to win the day. Just one word…

“Jack?”

He immediately paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at her .

“The Atella ball is tomorrow. Your family is still attending, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” She lifted her chin. “I expect you will ask me to dance?”

He stared at her, then gave the slightest of nods before he continued on his way.

Juniper took in a deep breath, buoyed by the small victory, and followed behind him. If he did not cut her from his life completely, she could perhaps convince him that it was she who knew best in this matter.

Because his kiss had revealed something she had barely dared hope for before: he cared for her. As more than a friend. She hadn’t imagined anything so wonderful; Jack wanted her.

And she very much wanted him, too.