.
It would be too dangerous. How will I get word to you when Gavin is well enough to leave?’
‘I will know.’ He did not elaborate. ‘But for now I’ll take his horse with me. That will be one less clue for the English soldiers when they come to pay their respects to your father.’
She nodded, prodding herself to move and follow him to the outside door in spite of the pain twisting in her stomach from his hard words. She should have remembered how he felt about Papa.
She still had to take her mare to the stable. Hopefully the horses had not taken any harm from the cold. When she went out, she saw he had covered all of them with extra blankets.
She stood for long moments, watching him as he mounted and rode into the still-dark morning. It would not be sunrise for some time. Feeling the bite of the weather that had turned to snow, she headed for the stables, her horse whickering in relief behind her.
Even though she was not adequately clothed, she barely felt the cold. It scared her to know that his kiss was the reason.
Jenna groaned and rolled on to her side. Her entire body ached and damp seemed permanently embedded in her bones in spite of the feather comforters piled on her bed like mounds of snow. Her head hurt, too.
The only good thing was that at least the warmth from his kiss had not lasted through her sleep. That would be too unnerving.
‘Miss Jenna,’ tis time ye was up.’ The sound of china and crystal added emphasis to the words. ‘There be a guest—unwelcome, but a guest nonetheless, and your father requests your presence. An English officer.’
Jenna recognised her maid’s voice. Lizzie Smith had been with her all her life, first as nanny and now as personal maid. The other woman had grown old in service.
‘An English officer?’
‘Aye.’
Surely it was not the redcoat from the Whore’s Eye. ’Twould be too great a coincidence. And yet, why not? Papa was retired from the King’s Army. But if it was the same man, he might recognise her. But she had kept the hood of her cape up. Hadn’t she? She could not remember. And there were precious few redheads around.
What a muddle. Perhaps she would have Lizzie powder her hair, even though it was usually done only for formal occasions. The man might not have seen her clearly enough. And she had been drenched and bedraggled. Nor would he expect to see the woman of last night here. It might be enough disguise.
Jenna levered herself up, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles. She had done too much lifting last night with Gavin, but there had been no acceptable alternative. She hoped her cousin was comfortable until she could get to him.
‘What time is it, Lizzie?’ The clock was on the bed table beside her, too close for her to see clearly without her glasses. She had left them on her work table.
The older woman turned her ruddy, lined face to Jenna. Frizzed white hair framed her round cheeks. ‘Past eleven.’
‘What?’ Jenna bolted upright, ignoring the insistent twinge of her abused body. ‘Eleven! I never sleep past eight, even in the winter.’
‘Not normally, no.’ Lizzie moved to plump the pillows behind Jenna. ‘But Joshua says you were out late last night with a birthing. It must have been a difficult one.’
The maid lifted one eyebrow, waiting for Jenna to explain where she had been. Joshua was the stable boy who must have seen her horse gone.
Jenna took a breath and told her lie, unable to meet Lizzie’s eyes. ‘It was a premature call. The babe is near and the father got overexcited.’ She smiled as though the falsehood was truth.
Lizzie snickered. ‘Ever like a man to rush things.’
Jenna flushed. No stranger to what happened between a man and a woman, she understood her maid’s underlying meaning. More times than she could count, she had heard women whispering how a man wanted his pleasure with no regard for the woman. And then look where it landed her, and with none of the delights to make up for the pain and danger.
And yet…she felt the phantom touch of The Ferguson’s mouth on hers. Her toes curled and her breath caught.
To cover her reaction, she pushed back the covers and swung her feet off the bed. Chill air hit her. She grabbed for her nearby woollen robe and hustled into it before going to the fire. She extended her hands and turned slow circles, hoping the warmth would wipe out the tingle she still felt from the memory of Duncan’s kiss.
‘What have you laid out for me to wear?’ Better to think of something different.
Lizzie picked up a teal-satin pet-en-l’air jacket trimmed with heavy lace. There was a quilted cream-satin petticoat and lace-edged kerchief lying on a nearby chair. A matching round-eared muslin cap completed the outfit. Jenna smiled her approval. Simple as she liked, yet warm enough for the winter day after she layered her chemise and another petticoat under it all.
‘That should be perfect.’
‘I should say so.’ Lizzie sniffed. ‘I might not be French trained or spend months in London, miss, but I know what’s proper.’ She cast a look at Jenna. ‘And what becomes you.’
‘True. You have a good eye.’ Not everything looked equally well with Jenna’s ginger hair and freckles.
Ah, freckles. She crossed the room to her mirror and wash basin and peered at her reflection. Muddy brown splotches marched across her nose. She reached for the milk wash and set about scrubbing her face.
Lizzie harrumphed. ‘No matter how you rub, those won’t come off, Miss Jen. I doan care what the advertisement says.’
Jenna rinsed with ice-cold water, her teeth chattering. Her complexion glowed like polished glass, but the freckles remained. She groaned. Now she looked like a milkmaid.
‘Best I dress.’ She did not try to hide her disappointment. Lizzie knew how she hated the brown spots. ‘Papa is likely getting impatient.’
‘Hah! He was impatient when he sent me to waken you.’ Lizzie picked up the freshly cleaned and ironed chemise as Jenna stepped out of her nightdress.
‘Oh, dear.’ Jenna hated upsetting Papa. He was so loving that she did everything she could to ease his day. Keeping him waiting was not what she normally did.
‘Here, now.’ Lizzie held out the stays.
Jenna groaned. She preferred to go without as The Ferguson had discovered last night. But when she couldn’t…
She sucked in her breath and held it. It was her little rebellion. Lizzie pulled the stays tight and secured them. Only when she was sure the maid was done did Jenna let her breath out. This way her stays were always a little looser than they would otherwise be. She might not have the smallest waist, but she was more comfortable than most women and she did not believe that having a tiny waist was worth not being able to breathe properly.
Except… The memory of The Ferguson lifting her last night and commenting on her lack of stays brought heat to her already rosy cheeks. She had felt so vulnerable, actually feeling the print of each of his fingers along her waist. Stays kept a woman from feeling much when touched. But last night, she had felt everything. She shivered.
‘I’ll have you dressed in just another moment, and you’ll be much warmer.’
Jenna grinned at Lizzie’s mistaken understanding. ‘Thank you.’
Once she was dressed, Jenna sat for Lizzie to style her hair. The maid wound Jenna’s curls close to the head as fashion dictated.
In her best, nonchalant tone, Jenna drawled, ‘I believe I would like it powdered this morning.’
Lizzie’s eyes opened wide. ‘I must have heard you wrong, miss.’
Jenna resisted the urge to grit her teeth. ‘No, you did not. I want it powdered this morning.’