in the servants’ quarters or torn into rags.
Gordon didn’t stay with her, but left to write a letter to one of his managers and then to check on his driver. He’d always been solicitous of other people and evidently that hadn’t changed over the years.
Mrs. Thompson asked her about two sets of French linens, one of which predated her grandmother. They had faded to an ecru color, were worn to the point that they were almost threadbare in certain places, but they were festooned with a four-inch band of beautifully crafted lace at the top.
“Set those aside for my chamber, Mrs. Thompson. It’s a shame to get rid of them just yet.”
The rest of the inventory took nearly two hours. At the end of it she was heartily tired of unfolding and folding sheets, but they wouldn’t need to do this task again until next year.
By that time Gordon had joined her again. He took her hand and walked with her to the main staircase. “What do you have to do now? Inspect the dairy? Oversee the delivery of a litter of piglets? Shoe a horse?”
She laughed. “Not quite all of that.”
Gordon pulled her into the alcove beneath the bend of the stairs and kissed her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, stood on tiptoe, and gave in to the feeling. Passion flowed through her, caressing her like velvet, dancing a pattern on her skin.
When he murmured her name against her lips, she gripped him even tighter.
Finally, he pulled back, leaving her standing there, her breath ragged, hands still clasped around his neck.
“I need to go see Sean,” he said.
She nodded, grateful that she didn’t need to talk right at the moment. She didn’t think she could.
A moment later she dropped her arms. “I need to go see Lauren. I’ll see you at dinner.”
When she went to check on Lauren, she found her sister-in-law in some discomfort.
“I don’t know why, Jennifer, but I’m not feeling well.”
“That’s nature’s way of announcing that your baby will be born soon,” Mrs. Farmer said.
“I’ll send a tray up for you,” Jennifer said.
Lauren shook her head. “I don’t think I could eat. I haven’t an appetite and I feel odd, Jennifer.”
“Would you like me to stay with you?”
She wanted to be with Gordon, but Lauren needed her right now.
“Could you?” Lauren stretched out her hand. Jennifer covered it with her own.
“Of course I can.”
She would send word to Gordon. That would mean that he would eat alone. Or perhaps he would prefer a tray in his room as well. Or, he might still be with Sean.
She left to manage dinner. She returned a few minutes later to find Mrs. Farmer sitting in the corner, occupied with a book. When Jennifer offered to sit with Lauren while she went to eat her own meal, the midwife considered the matter for a moment before nodding.
“I’ll be gone only a short while, Lady Jennifer. I believe that the birth of the countess’s child is imminent.”
Poor Lauren looked terrified.
Jennifer stayed with her sister-in-law long enough for Mrs. Farmer to eat her dinner. Mrs. Thompson sent two trays up to the suite, one for Lauren and one for Jennifer. Unlike Lauren, she had an appetite.
She offered to read a book Lauren had begun, thinking that it might take her sister-in-law’s mind from the impending birth. She kept reading for two hours until Lauren fell asleep.
Jennifer finally tiptoed out of the room, waving to Mrs. Farmer. The midwife barely returned a nod.
Chapter Thirteen
Jennifer entered her suite and lit one of the lamps in her sitting room. She walked to the windows and stood there a moment. Here, the view overlooked where the north wing had once been, the expanse of open area and the rolling hills. Tonight, she barely saw it as she stood there.
For several moments she thought about what she was considering. Her mother wouldn’t approve. Neither would Ellen. The world would label her as some kind of fallen woman, but wasn’t she considered a spinster now? Someone who was unloved and unwanted? What did it matter what other people thought?
She wanted and needed to be with Gordon more than decorum or morality or decency or any word that someone might use to condemn her.
She bathed, put on perfume, then donned her loveliest nightgown and peignoir, a gift from Ellen on her last birthday. The pale yellow silk floated like a cloud over her body, almost feeling like Gordon’s fingers on her skin.
Her body hummed and her skin felt