For in the faintly lit library with just he and Jane for company, he hungered to know the soft, bow-shaped contours of her lips once more. He clenched the glass between his hands and burying his disgust, Gabriel downed a long sip. The familiar burn of the fine French spirits did little to dull his senses.
He wanted her still; this woman with her frowning lips and proudly held frame. Curiosity struck once more—a desire to know just who this angry one moment, smiling and teasing the next young woman was? He swirled the contents of his glass and eyed her over the rim. How did she come to find herself a companion? As it was safer to feed the desire to know more than the need to lay her gently curved frame upon the leather button sofa and take her as he longed to, Gabriel fixed on the need to fill in the pieces of Mrs. Munroe’s story, for the unknown bits of her were far safer than the detailed pieces of his own that could never be forgotten.
As though unnerved by his scrutiny, Jane shifted back and forth. With a slight tremble to her fingers, she fanned the pages of the book in her hand.
“How did you come to be a companion?”
She stilled and her fingers ceased their distracted little movement. The book fluttered closed with a soft thump. “My lord?”
As a young boy, his safety had become dependent on an ability to gauge his father’s actions and reactions. He’d become adept at detecting the subtle nuances of a person’s every movement. Jane frowned and “my-lorded” him when unnerved. He frowned. What secrets did she keep? He shifted and hooked his opposite ankle across his knee. “Surely mine it is not a question that should merit surprise?”
She wrung her hands together. “Do you find me an inadequate companion to Lady Chloe? Do you intend to send me away?”
Send me away. He paused. Not back to Mrs. Belden’s. Rather away. She preferred being here. Why should such a fact matter? And yet, it did. An inexplicable lightness filled his chest. “I assure you, I’m pleased with your services, Jane.” Even if she infuriated him with her insolent words and tone. He admired her spirit. “I do not intend to send you back.” And had admired those of brazen courage, since his own failed childhood as the scared, cowering boy beat for his father’s cruel enjoyments.
The tension left Jane’s shoulders and her expression softened. By the lady’s reaction, he may as well have handed her a star. “Thank you,” she responded. She dropped her gaze to the book in her lap and, for a long moment, he believed she would ignore the question he’d previously put to her. “There is a remarkable lack of options for a young, unwed woman.”
He’d have to be deafer than a doorpost to fail to hear the thick resentment underscoring her response. Regret filled him, as well as a heavy dose of shame. He’d dedicated his life to seeing his siblings contented and yet he’d never given thought to the precariousness of others—such as Jane. “What of Mr. Munroe?” It was an improper question he had no right to ask and certainly no right to an answer.
She picked her head up. “Mr. Munroe?” she asked, brow furrowed. Then belatedly appeared to recall her mistake. “O-oh,” she cleared her throat. “I t-take it you refer to my husband?”
He took another sip of brandy. She’d been no more wedded than Gabriel himself. “Yes. Was there another?” Yet, the lady was a companion and Mrs. Belden, one of the most revered, feared, and stern headmistresses in the entire kingdom, would never hire into her employ a woman who was not widow or spinster.
Jane shook her head so hard she dislodged several of those blonde tresses. “Of course not.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Mr. Munroe’s father, I suppose, could have been the other Mr. Munroe you referred to.”
Poor Jane and her rather deplorable attempt at smoothing her lie. From the previous bitterness in her tone when she’d spoken of the remarkable lack of options for young women, the lady had carefully built a world as Mrs. Munroe, as opposed to Miss Munroe as a means of protection. He took pity and turned his questioning to truths about the lady and not these weakly constructed lies. “How did you come to be at Mrs. Belden’s?”