Catherine Archer - Lady Thorn

The door swung open.

A female, obviously a serving woman, judging by her dress and the fact that she held a wide silver tray in her hands, stood in the opening. Behind her, her eyes going wide even as a dark flush rose up to stain her cheeks, was none other than Lady Victoria herself.

Jed hurried to cover himself, but not before he took note of the fact that Lady Victoria’s wide gray gaze came to light on that most male part of him. Even though the expression of curious wonder and amazement in those eyes was short-lived and quickly replaced by shock, his body’s reaction was immediate and unwelcome. He told himself that the forced celibacy of the ocean crossing was the reason for his physical response. It had nothing at all to do with the unseemly fascination in that fleeting glance.

To his further dismay, Jed felt the heat of a blush rise up to color his own cheeks. He had no memory of the last time he had blushed at anything, let alone at having a woman see him without his pants on.

Determinedly he clutched his pants tightly to him, hoping he had moved quickly enough to keep the lady from seeing the evidence of his arousal. He was fairly certain she had never beheld a man in the buff before.

What she might make of it, he had no idea. Judging from her behavior last night, Victoria was not like the women he had known of her class. Her mature manner, undeniable courage, and poise in the face of nearly being kidnapped were proof of that. But he would be willing to bet that she was completely innocent in the carnal sense.

Yet what could he do? Jed looked into her face, quirking a brow as he shrugged. “Is there something I can do for you?” This seemed to at last bring her out of her dazed state.

“Oh, dear,” she muttered, raising her hand to cover her mouth, then turning her back to him. “Please forgive me. I had no idea. I did not consider…Clara and I will leave you alone now.”

Jed’s gaze went to Clara, who was watching him with unconcealed appreciation in her blue eyes. For some reason, he had forgotten the maid, who he now saw was quite attractive, with her golden-blond hair peeking out from beneath her mobcap to curl around her fine features. To his surprise, he felt no pleasure in seeing her appreciative reaction to him, only indifference.

This caused him to scowl anew, though he was not prepared to question the cause of his disinterest.

Victoria Thorn spoke again, drawing his attention to her. The rigid line of her slender back was not alleviated by the soft yellow fabric of the gown she wore. “I will await you in the drawing room. The footman at the bottom of the stairs will direct you.”

With that, she grabbed an arm of the obviously reluctant Clara and left without even shutting the door. As Jed moved to close it, he saw the servant throw one last peep over her left shoulder. He slammed the tall oak portal, then leaned back against it as he drew on his pants.

It was only a few minutes later that Jed left the room and made his way down the wide hallway, with growing discomfort. Last night he had had the vague impression of high ceilings and thick carpets. Now, in the light that streamed through the tall windows at either end of the hall, he was struck by the sheer magnitude of the wealth that had bought so much luxury. The walls were lined with fine works of art, which had no doubt been painted by great masters. Grecian statues graced velvet-lined recesses, and rested atop small carved tables that must be considered works of art in themselves.

It was becoming clearer by the moment that he had gotten himself into a position where he would be surrounded by a world that was the epitome of all that he despised. Such possessions set the extremely wealthy apart and made them feel somehow superior to others. How could Victoria, surrounded by all this opulence, be any different? In spite of his first impressions of her as being somehow more genuine and unpretentious, Jed knew that she could not be.

Again he reminded himself of why he had agreed to stay. Firstly for the purpose of finding his son, and secondly because Victoria Thorn needed his help. It was increasingly clear that her incredible affluence was one of the very things that made the lady the target of greedy suitors.

Men such as Reginald Cox were not as scarce as they should be. Though Jed had foiled the bastard’s attempts to abduct Victoria, he could not abandon her now.

His mother had taught him better than that. She had always reminded Jed that it was important to help those who needed it. Margaret McBride had herself often shared what little she had with others even less fortunate than herself.

Though she had so much, Victoria had said she needed him. He recalled how visibly shaken she had been last night, despite her efforts to hide her fear. No, he could not abandon her.

Jed could only hope he would keep his own attraction to the lady under control. The memory of the rush of heat he’d felt only minutes ago, when she came to his room and found him without benefit of his trousers, was an intense one. Shifting his shoulders inside his black jacket, Jed shook his head. He was no inexperienced boy, he assured himself with forced confidence. His feelings would be kept at bay.

His boots made no sound on the plush carpet that ran the length of the corridor, but as he stepped onto the wide double staircase that lead to the foyer below, the sound of his heels clattered against the highly polished wood and echoed above him. This drew his gaze upward, where he saw a ceiling exquisitely painted with cherubs and clouds that were so real they looked as if they would be soft and billowy to the touch.

At the foot of the stairs, a footman, uniformed in royal blue, bowed and pointed to a door across the marbled floor. “You are to go into the green sitting room, if you please, sir.” The man rushed to open the white-paneled door for him.

Jed nodded. “Thank you.” He was not used to receiving such deferential treatment from servants, was in fact not used to servants much at all. He preferred to wait on himself. When he was in Bridgeport, where the ship building firm was located, he generally stayed with his partner, Peter Cook, and his family. Peter’s wife, Jane, and his young sister, Leanne, managed the household chores with the help of an authoritative older woman named Mrs. Muldoon. She was not the least bit servile in her manner, running the house with an iron hand.

With brows raised at the irony of this whole situation, Jed moved past the man and into the chamber beyond. The long room was resplendent with white-paneled walls and plush carpeting. The intricate trim on the walls and ceiling was lavishly bathed in gold. Settees and chairs in various shades of green, ranging from a yellow spring green to deepest hunter, were arranged about the room. Portraits of what Jed was certain were long-dead relatives in wigs and pantalets adorned the walls. The tall windows that ran along the length of the outside wall let in enough light to give the place a warm, cheery feel, despite its grandeur.

All this Jed took in as he made his way to the opposite end of the chamber, where Victoria sat on a light green sofa. She did not meet his eyes as he came to a standstill a few feet from her. All her attention appeared to be centered on the tea tray which lay on the table before her.

While her gaze was trained elsewhere, Jed had a moment to study her more closely than he had the previous night. Then he had had an impression of beauty and courage. Today he was hit with the full force of the femininity of the woman he had agreed to protect.

Her hair was quite dark, nearly black, in fact, and to his surprise seemed to be somewhat unruly. In spite of the tidy bun that had been arranged at the base of her neck, stray wisps had escaped to curl about her forehead and nape. Fringes of thick, dark lashes were outlined against her high cheekbones, which were flushed a healthy peach. Her nose was narrow and finely formed, her jawline clearly but not sharply defined. She wore a gown of some soft gauzy fabric in a delicate butter yellow. The high neckline did nothing to detract from the femininity of her figure, the bodice cut close over her sweetly rounded breasts. Inside him he felt a definite stirring that had nothing to do with wanting to safeguard this woman.