“Your Grace,” Jane curtsied deeply, hoping that the amount of respect she was showing was adequate. She often granted far more depth to her courtesy than was strictly necessary, but she’d rather err on the side of respect than not.
“Lady Andrepont, please come in.” Eleanor, the Duchess of Haverford gestured to a waiting teapot and sitting area.
Jane’s palms sweated as she gripped her silk gown, crossing the plush pile rug of the duchess’s drawing room. “Thank you.”
Jane almost tripped on the way over, but righted herself in time. She was grateful when she was able to sink into the deep cushion of the Duchess’s upholstered settee. Finally she pulled out an unadorned tin that she’d held gripped in a sweaty fist lodged deep in her pocket on the way over. “If it is not too forward, I would like to gift to you a tisane of my own making.”
“Oh?” The Duchess asked, reaching out to take the small, undecorated box. “Shall we brew it up now?”
“Oh, no, it is for medicinal purposes.” Jane managed to get out the words. She was as skittish as a colt on ice, and her voice took so much effort to use. “It is especially meant for cramping or for headaches. I use it myself as well as for my staff.”
The duchess opened the tin and sniffed. She had the politeness to not wrinkle her nose at the pungent aroma. Jane had not yet learned how to mask the odors well yet.
“I have a greenhouse that I use to brew up my mentor’s receipts. Or, she was my mentor before I married.” Jane hurried through the explanation feeling foolish. But the duchess looked on with generosity. “I, of course, do not seek education now.”
“Cream?” Duchess asked, poised with the tiny ewer.
“Yes please.” It seemed impolite to refuse, so she accepted without thinking.
“You must be very well accomplished to have had a mentor,” the duchess said, pouring tea for them both.
“Well enough, I suppose. I had thought I would stay in the country, unsure if I would ever marry. It seemed prudent to have a profession.”
“If I may say, Lady Andrepont, you are quite a beauty. I know you are young, but you have many years of beauty yet. A profession would not have been needed.”
“Very kind of you to say. But I rather enjoyed my time with the midwife. She did more than attending the birthing room. The skills seemed preferable to marriage.”
“And now?” The duchess inquired.
Jane tried to give the polite answer. The one she should say, especially given the company. “I’d rather be a midwife.”
“And this tisane you’ve gifted me, you say you’ve tried it yourself?” The duchess inspected the tin again.
“Yes. Though I will caution that it does make bruising worse, even as it aids the feeling of the cramping.”
The duchess snapped her eyes back to Jane. She’d said too much. Jane looked down at her cup, the deep brown of the high quality tea swirling with the pale cream. Her heart hammered in her ears.
“Is it the viscount who does this?”
“Does what?” Jane said, before she could think of a lie, forcing herself to meet her hostess’s gaze. There was a pause, and Jane knew the duchess was weighing her options, on how much intervention she could muster. But no one could stop Andrepont. If someone could have, it would have already happened.
“Do you need protection?” the duchess asked, and even her asking the question made Jane tear up.
Jane couldn’t fathom anyone being nice to her anymore. She had spent long enough in Andrepont’s house to know that she was not a person who deserved kindness. That charity was nothing but bait to hurt her even further. There was a part of her that insisted the duchess had no such malice, but experience pushed those thoughts away. Jane shook her head.
“I’m sure I could help, if you are in true danger.” the duchess pursed her lips.
Jane thought of Vasya. He was the man who had built her greenhouse. The man who kept her safe despite her husband. Jane pulled her shoulders back, giving the impression of confidence she did not have. “I have protection. You have no need to worry.”
A Lady’s Resilience by Edie Cay
When the Blood Is Up series finale
Love Makes Us Desperate
In 1780, Queen Charlotte hosts a ball for her birthday. Jane Laurent has not been to a ball because at age sixteen, she isn’t ready. Raised in the country, Jane appointed herself apprentice to a midwife—a calling she wants to pursue. But the family traipses into London so Jane’s older sister Emma can land herself a lord. The family celebrates when lovely Emma catches the eye of the handsome viscount Andrepont. But the night of the engagement ball, dependable Emma runs away with a soldier instead. The family panics and pushes Jane forward to fulfill the marriage contract with the older and oddly unsettling Lord Andrepont. How bad could he be that pragmatic, reliable Emma ran away?
Vasily Nikolaevich Kuznetsov is a man with a past, but at least its far away. Meeting up with Gareth Somerset in a seedy gambling hell outside of Paris was the best thing that could have ever happened to him. Aimless, he follows Gareth to London where he helps his friend win the girl of his dreams, and vows to keep an eye on her while Gareth is deployed to the colonies. But when Gareth’s wife joins her husband in the colonies, and Vasya hears the younger sister is marrying Andrepont, a monster well-known to the seedy underbelly of London, Vasya takes a position as a groom in the lord’s household to protect the sister-in-law of his friend.
Years pass, and Vasya watches Jane grow into the formidable and beautiful Lady Andrepont. He can only love from afar, but there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. And when it comes to murder, Vasya has the experience and the moral flexibility to help…
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