“Number eighteen, Hill Street.” It was, in fact, four doors down from Lady Catherton’s actual address, but she didn’t want him to know where she resided and potentially speak to anyone who knew she was not, in fact, a baronet’s widow.
Noel relayed the information to the footman, who in turn passed the address on to the coachman, as well as the driver of the second coach that carried Jess’s maid. And then they were off again. It would be a short ride, less than five minutes.
Now. Tell him now.
But every time she opened her mouth, no words came out. It was as if she’d exhausted all her supply of language. All the speeches she’d planned on the ride from Carriford were gone. Noel returned to his tense silence, so nothing was said.
The carriage came to a stop. She glanced out the window to see that they’d arrived at their fictitious destination. From her vantage, she could see the town house where she actually resided. She heard the sounds of her trunk being taken down from the second carriage, and her abigail speaking with the driver.
Jess had to do it. Had to tell him the truth, and suffer the consequences.
A familiar carriage came to a stop farther up the street. A footman jumped down and opened the vehicle’s door. He reached forward to help out the carriage’s occupant.
It was Lady Catherton.
Here. Now.
She’d arrived at her house without any notice.
“Jess—?”
Dragging her gaze back to Noel, she blurted, “I can’t see you again. I’m sorry, Noel. I’m so terribly sorry.”
His expression blanked, as though she’d shot him in the center of his chest and he could not comprehend how the bullet had lodged between his ribs. “I—”
“Please,” she begged. “I can’t say more. I have to go.”
She leapt from the carriage and shut the door behind her before he could say anything. “Drive on,” she hissed at the coachman.
“Don’t,” Noel said. He appeared in the carriage window. “Jess, no. Not like this.”
“It has to be,” she said desperately. “I’m leaving. That can’t be changed. You’ll forget me, and . . . and I want you to.”
The confusion in Noel’s gaze iced into angry hurt. His jaw firmed. “I see.”
She wouldn’t allow herself the luxury of tears. Instead, she said to the coachman, “Drive, for God’s sake.”
“Your Grace?” the servant asked.
“You heard her,” Noel intoned. Not a hint of emotion or affect in his voice. “No reason to linger.”
He sat back, disappearing into the carriage, then the vehicle rolled forward.
Throat aching, Jess saw that Lady Catherton hobbled slowly up the front step of her town house, her pace slowed by the silver-tipped cane in her hand.
Jess turned to Nell standing beside the trunk. “Your services are no longer needed. I will pay you the balance of your salary as soon as you help me carry my baggage inside. We must move quickly.” She grabbed one handle of the trunk. “We’ll use the back entrance.”
The maid frowned, but took the other handle. Together, they carried the trunk down the street. As they passed Lady Catherton’s house, the lady herself navigating the front stoop, Jess made sure to duck her head and hope that the brim of her bonnet hid her face.
“Miss McGale!” Lady Catherton called into the open door. “Miss McGale, where are you?”
“Hurry,” Jess urged Nell. They turned into the mews.
Sweat slicked down Jess’s back as she and her abigail awkwardly muscled the luggage down the low steps leading to the servants’ entrance.
A footman opened the door. He looked puzzled as he glanced between the trunk and Jess.
“Take this up,” she said to him. “Immediately.”
“Yes, miss.” He hefted the trunk into his arms and moved into the house.
“And this is for you.” Jess set a stack of coins in Nell’s hand. “Plus a bit extra for your assistance.”
The abigail tucked the coins into her reticule. “Will you provide a character?”
Jess grimaced. “I can’t even provide a character for myself. My apologies.” She hurried inside.
She raced through the kitchen and then up the stairs. As she ran, she heard Lady Catherton calling again, her voice echoing in the foyer. “Miss McGale! Oh, is that my trunk?”
Oh, no.
Jess sped down the corridor. She came to an abrupt halt in the foyer, slapping a smile onto her aching, tight face, and blinking away the sweat that trickled into her eyes.
Lady Catherton looked at her as she stood beside the trunk that Jess had used for her trip to the country.