The girl was perhaps a bit too forthright at times, but was sure to choose wisely if given the right guidance. All she needed was to show a little more restraint when she met a new gentleman and she’d make a good match.
Mrs. Hawthorne beamed. “Thank you. I have such hopes for her and her younger sisters.”
If Nicolas did dismiss her earlier than she’d expected, and she took up the offered position with the Hawthorne’s, Gillian could very well be companion to the Hawthornes’ brood for years to come. She might never have money to spare again, the wages she was accustomed to receiving might have to be drastically cut, and she might have to hoard the money she’d saved for her old age, but remaining here would mean she might still be able to see Jessica from time to time.
Gillian forced a smile, but had the time to end her affair with Lord Stapleton arrived? She could not begrudge him the chance to be happy with another woman if he was done with her. He’d made her no promises. “I’d be very pleased to help you with your daughters, Mrs. Hawthorne, if Lord Stapleton does indeed mean to release me from his employment.”
“He can have no interest in stopping you from going where you are wanted,” Mrs. Warner exclaimed, dismissing her cruelly as if she were less than nothing to anyone.
Smarting inside, seething in impotence, Gillian forced herself to hide any true emotion and inclined her head gracefully.
Jessica shrank away from her. “My father would never send me away. He loves me.”
“Indeed he does,” Gillian promised.
Mrs. Warner looked upon Jessica with a calculated gleam in her eye. “You leave with me, dear sister. Everything is arranged, so there is no point arguing about it. I have already written to engage a proper music master to begin your instructions as soon as we return home. There will be fittings and dancing instruction and all the little things a companion can hardly know about for you to learn. We shall start over from scratch and truly make something of you.”
Jessica burst to her feet. “No! This is my home. I’m not going anywhere with you!”
Mrs. Warner sighed. “Young lady, properly raised young women do not yell. Ever. Mother would be so disappointed in you.”
Jessica gasped and fled the room.
Mrs. Warner had said the one thing that was unforgivable. Mentioning the mother Jessica had never known but longed for was cruel. Gillian stood to follow. “Excuse me.”
“No, leave her be,” Mrs. Warner said before turning to Mrs. Hawthorne. “This is exactly why she should have been in my care all along.”
Gillian shook her head stubbornly. “I am still the Duke of Stapleton’s employee, and he would not want his daughter neglected when she is upset. You have no idea how badly you just hurt her feelings by mentioning her mother in such a way. Excuse me, Mrs. Hawthorne, Miss Hawthorne. Ladies. I must see to my duties.”
She hurried after her Jessica, certain Mrs. Hawthorne’s offer of employment would come to nothing now. Which would leave her with exactly no place to go at short notice. She had money enough for the inn and mail coach to a place of new employment. She’d decide her direction later, but for the moment her first priority was making sure Jessica calmed down before she did anything she’d regret later.
When distraught, the girl usually went to one of two places—to her room, or out to the orangery. Since her bedchamber was empty, Gillian headed outside after procuring her heaviest cloak to keep her warm. Snow had been falling since daybreak and it was not difficult to detect footsteps headed in the direction of the distant building. She paused as she noticed a second, larger and deeper pair besides Jessica’s coming from the direction of the house too. Had Lord Stapleton followed his daughter from the house?
He was undoubtedly the best suited to reassuring the girl about this change of plans, but it would still be wise to see if she were needed anyway.
She slipped into the orangery and quickly shut the door to keep in the heat. Stapleton’s gardens boasted many such outbuildings. Forcing houses, walled gardens and more. There were so many places to explore with Jessica that appealed to the young girl’s curiosity and love of nature, while not technically being in the out of doors.
She looked to the end of the long room—and froze.
Jessica stood in the arms of a man who was most definitely not her father, and was crying piteously against the fellow’s dark cloak. His face was lowered to Jessica’s head, and as Gillian watched, he kissed her hair, her brow. He gently cupped the back of the girl’s head and seemed to be making love to her.
And Jessica was doing absolutely nothing to stop him.
Gillian loudly cleared her throat and the gentleman sprang back as if burned.
Gillian scowled. “Mr. Whitfield?”
He swallowed and glanced about him with a decidedly guilty expression. “Mrs. Thorpe. It’s not what you think.”
Gillian had seen those gentle kisses, and his br
ight blush confirmed her suspicions about his not-so-harmless interest in Jessica. She hurried forward and pulled the witless girl to her side. “Are you all right?”
Jessica nodded, hugged herself, and began sobbing anew.
“Oh Jess, darling. Do not cry.” Gillian took the girl into her arms and stared at Mr. Whitfield. “If you orchestrated this meeting for any untoward purpose I shall throw a pot at you, and then inform Lord Stapleton you cannot be trusted with his daughter.”
“No!” The man paled. “I didn’t follow her. I was already here, admiring Stapleton’s new raised flowerbeds. I swear, I turned around and she threw herself into my arms.”