conversation continued, Jess decided it was wisest to quit the field whilst things were still in her favor. She murmured something noncommittal and walked to where refreshments were laid out.
She sensed him beside her, and lost her taste for cakes. His taste was what she wanted, spiced and rich and drugging.
“Tell me your plans for after the Bazaar,” he said.
“After tomorrow?”
“The Season’s still at its height, which means a surfeit of assemblies and social gatherings. They’re not tremendously exciting, unless you happen to enjoy middling punch and too many people attempting to be amusing. But there are other pleasures to be had in London. You’ll stay for those, surely.” He made a soft scoffing noise. “Listen to me. I’ve seen anglers in the River Spey fish with greater subtlety. But I don’t give a damn.” He stepped closer. “I just want you.”
Her face—her whole being—heated. Desire the likes of which she’d never known wrapped around her like enchanted vines, and she didn’t want to be freed from them.
But, as the stories said, all enchanted things had to come to an end.
“I am leaving the country,” she said softly. “Going to the Continent.”
He blinked. “Will you be there long?”
“I cannot say.” Pain radiated from her to speak the words. At the very least, they were the truth.
His brow furrowed. “Then there isn’t much time left. For you and I.”
“Not much at all,” she murmured.
She had to face the terrible truth—if she could not secure investors at the Bazaar, then McGale & McGale would cease to exist. The farm itself would be lost, her family fractured.
With an influx of funding, she could leave her position as a hired companion and focus all of her attention and efforts on the business.
But if she could not save it, she would be a hired companion again.
In either case, there could be no Noel. She told herself that was how it had to be. She had to be a clear-eyed realist—this fantasy would end. But damn her if it would be over far too soon.
That evening, a dinner was held in Lord Trask’s home. Jess had just enough time to go home, bathe and change, and then return.
With a glass of cordial in her hand, she circled the parlor, where she and the other guests had gathered once the meal concluded. The mood was light, conversation flowed readily. Lord Trask beamed from his place by the fire, basking in the glow of a host who had created an exceptional evening.
It had been impossible not to stare at Noel throughout the course of the night. He’d sat in the position of honor at the dining table, with her a good distance away, separated by rank and importance.
Now, with the men and women reunited after dinner, he turned pages for Lady Farris as the countess played the pianoforte.
Tomorrow, she’d see him for the last time. She would dissolve back into her role of invisible companion, never to cross his path, let alone speak to him. Let alone kiss him.
He desired her. She desired him, yet her uncertainty kept her locked in place.
Damn it, this wasn’t like her. Decisions, action, conviction in her purpose—these elements made up her life, especially after her parents’ death. She saw what needed to be done, and by God, she did it.
Air. She needed air. Once she was alone, she could decide what to do about Noel.
Viscount Pickhill appeared beside her. “My lady, I would like your opinion on a question. There’s a manufacturer of textiles in India—”
“I’ll happily discuss the matter tomorrow, my lord. Let us enjoy the evening without talk of business.”
“Of course, Lady Whitfield. Only—”
“Do excuse me.”
She set her glass down and, before the gentleman could respond, she slipped from the chamber.
Lord Trask had boasted that his home had its own conservatory located toward the back of the house. A room filled with green growing things, and silence, seemed exactly what she needed. It would be a small taste of home, and its quiet.
She walked down the corridor, putting the parlor behind her, then came to a glass-fronted door. Pushing it open, she plunged into a shadowed room. There was enough light to see ferns hanging from the high ceiling, and plants, both exotic and more quotidian, abounded. The air here was thick and humid.
A stone bench sat tucked between two potted palms, and she sank down onto it, exhaling the breath she felt she had been holding for most of her life.