“I don’t believe so,” Gwen said as she pressed her fingers against her eyes as if to clear them. She’d been dozing against him in the carriage and he loved seeing her appear slightly tousled and very dreamy. Sadly, he could not do what he was thinking at the moment. Instead, he extended his arm and together they walked toward the house.
“Maybe someone else on the street is having an event.” He said the words, but he didn’t think it likely. Hers was the only home lit brightly this evening. And then as they were just about to raise the knocker, the door was pulled open to reveal a woman donning her hat. She took one look at the two of them, and her eyes widened as her mouth shaped into an O of horror. Or perhaps it was delight, because she immediately spun around.
“She’s home! Patricia, she’s alive!”
Gwen flinched at the words and he tightened his grip on her arm in support. But then she spoke, her voice level and seemingly unaffected though he knew from the tension in her body that she was covering her confusion.
“Yes, I’m alive,” she said as they made it to the door and the butler stepped out as if to greet them. “Mr. Parry, was there some reason to believe I’d perished?”
The man sniffed as he all but tugged her off Jackson’s arm. He did it under the guise of taking her coat, but his haughty expression was aimed directly at Jackson. “His lordship’s character has been called into question,” the butler said heavily. “We have been most worried about you, Lady Gwen.”
Gwen surrendered her coat, but not her wits. “Lord Sayres has been a complete gentleman. You do no good to impugn him like that.”
Jackson winced. Truthfully, he had not behaved gentlemanly at all with her, but her defense of his character warmed him nonetheless. “Perhaps we should step inside,” he said, as he attempted to do just that. Unfortunately, the butler blocked his way and though he could have easily overpowered the older man, Jackson did not want to resort to fisticuffs before he knew what was going on.
Meanwhile, Gwen’s mother came rushing forward from the front parlor.
“Thank God! We have been in such a state of worry.” She embraced Gwen in a dramatic rush of skirts and perfume. Gwen tolerated it, but her gaze went over her mother’s shoulder to the crowd of women standing in the hallway watching.
“My lady,” Jackson said loudly. “Please tell us what has occurred. We are at a loss as to why you appear so worried.”
One of the older ladies pushed forward through the press of women in the hallway. He recognized her as the Dowager Countess Highburn, and a more bitter shrew never existed. “How dare you!” the woman wheezed. “You dare enter the house of good people? Begone sirrah! We will have none of you here.”
At that, the butler tried to push the door shut, but Jackson’s foot firmly blocked the motion. Hell, his reputation had never been stellar—he’d need a full coffer for that—but he’d never sunk so low as to have women cursing him in the parlor.
“My lady, I cry foul. What have I done to earn such recrimination?”
Rather than answer, the woman hissed, “Degenerate libertine!”
And the others nodded their agreement, all repeating that phrase or several others. One of the women, however, made a different choice. She gestured Gwen forward with urgent motions. “Come away from him, Lady Gwen.”
Gwen just stared at all the people in her front hallway as she disentangled herself from her mother’s embrace. “Mr. Parry, step aside. Lord Sayres is attempting to enter.”
“Lord Satyr, you mean,” the Dowager Countess Highburn retorted.
“No,” frowned Gwen as she raised her voice. “Lord Sayres.” She spoke his name as if to a deaf woman, and Jackson would have laughed if the situation weren’t so serious. If his reputation was in tatters, so too would his flowers and all their efforts would be for nothing. Then she turned and tried to pull him inside, but the damned butler prevented her and that he couldn’t tolerate. He would not push inside of his own accord, but Lady Gwen would not be stopped in her own home.
So he gently elbowed the man aside. And when a gentle elbow didn’t suffice, he reached around and tapped the man on his opposite shoulder. Mr. Parry twisted around because that’s what butlers did when tapped, allowing Jackson to neatly step to Gwen’s side.
Given that the other choice was to manhandle the butler, he thought his trickery was well done. Apparently, Gwen thought so too because she whispered, “You must teach me how to do that.”
The dowager countess, on the other hand, voiced her objection loudly. “The nerve!” she shaped. “How dare you—”
“Why are you here, my lady?” Gwen interrupted. Her tone of voice was calm, but Jackson could feel the tension in her as she gripped his fingers. “Why is everyone here?”
“They believe he has ravished you,” came a voice from the stairs. It was Lilah, Gwen’s half-sister. “And they are here to…console Mama.” The pause before the word “console” indicated that they were here for gossip more than anything else.
“Ravish me?” Gwen said. “Why?”
He assumed she meant why would they think that as opposed to why would anyone want to ravish her, but with Gwen, one never fully knew. Fortunately, Lilah answered the relevant question as she descended the stairs.
“There are rumors—”
“Witnesses!” huffed one lady.
“They claim all manner of malicious intent.”
“From me?” Jackson asked. “What have I done?”