A widows vow, p.14
A Widow's Vow, page 14
Twenty-Four
Wrapped in a wool coat and scarf, Louisa rubbed her hands together, the fingers of her kid gloves doing little to protect her hands from the cold February wind. Bracing against the chill, she pushed a wooden flower box onto the parlour windowsill and stood back, trying to visualise how the box would look once the seeds she’d planted bloomed in the spring.
A touch of colour would be a welcome enrichment to the house’s otherwise austere exterior. As lovely as the Georgian houses of Bath were, Louisa loved colour and the golden stone wasn’t satisfying enough alone.
She was about to return indoors when she sensed a presence at the gate. Her heart raced a little faster, her face growing warm even as she fought to act nonchalant.
She turned, already knowing the face she would see would be Jacob Jackson’s.
He stood with his hand on one of the stone pillars flanking the black iron gate, the other holding the ends of the hessian sack over his shoulder. His brilliant blue eyes stared at her, his face absent of emotion, his broad shoulders rigid, his entire body unmoving.
Inside, she wanted to leap for joy. His being here could only mean he had come to accept her offer of a position at the house. And just in time. The brothel would open in two days.
Inhaling a shaky breath, Louisa crossed her arms and approached the gate. ‘Good morning, Jacob.’
‘Mrs Hill.’
‘Louisa, please.’
He nodded and finally drew his gaze from hers towards the parlour window. ‘Window boxes in February?’
She didn’t turn to follow the direction of his gaze. She couldn’t. Her body was immobile, but her heart was beating a tattoo. Instead, she utilised his distraction to study him more deeply. He really was so extraordinarily handsome. Big and broad. Imposing… yet absurdly, inexplicably approachable. Dark hair and olive skin. His stubble of beard accentuated strong cheekbones and a slightly crooked nose – one she assumed must have been broken numerous times.
His gaze swivelled to hers. ‘I guess you know why I’m here.’
She nodded. ‘The position.’
He smiled, sending a wave of awareness over every inch of her body, unnerving her and shaking her casual pretence. Somehow, she managed to move her legs and walk to the front door.
‘Then you’d better come in.’
She preceded him inside and, once they removed their outer garments, led him into the parlour. ‘Take a seat while I make some tea. Would you like anything to eat?’
‘No, I’m fine. Thank you.’
His gaze slowly grazed her face, lower until she had to quickly exit the room lest she lose her carefully controlled façade. A woman unaltered by a man; a woman in ownership of every aspect of her body and mind. That was who she wanted to be – had to be – now and forever. She knew enough of men to have learned how fickle and unfaithful they could be. As a whore, she’d slept with husbands; as a wife, she’d slept with a liar. She could not weaken once again. Self-loathing burned inside and Louisa marched into the kitchen, bumping straight into Nancy.
Nancy stumbled over the leg of a chair at the kitchen table in her haste to disguise that she’d been eavesdropping. Her friend snatched up a rag from the sink. ‘Everything all right, Lou?’
Louisa rolled her eyes at her friend’s turned back and walked to the stove. ‘Perfectly, thank you. Well, if I don’t think about Jacob Jackson sitting in our parlour.’
Turning, Nancy grinned, her eyes filled with triumph. ‘He’s here for the job, isn’t he? He’s going to be our doorman.’ She tossed the rag into the sink. ‘I knew he’d given in the moment I saw him through the window. He’s the right man for the job, no mistake.’
‘I thought you weren’t keen on him.’
‘I wasn’t until we had our little chat the night you went to fetch Octavia.’ Nancy glanced towards the door, her gaze considering. ‘There’s something about him. You’re right. He’s quiet, yet those eyes of his seem to catch everything. He’ll see we’re all right.’
Louisa put the kettle on the stove, pleased by her friend’s summary. ‘I couldn’t agree more, but now I’ll have to listen to his terms. A man like Jacob Jackson does not accept anything without conditions. Would you mind bringing us some tea? I don’t want to leave him alone too long in case he bolts.’
‘Of course. Go on. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
As she returned to the parlour, Louisa paused at the doorway and watched Jacob where he sat on the settee. He’d kept his hat on at the door, but now he’d removed it and drew the brim in circles with his fingers as he gazed towards the window, his thoughts seeming to be far from Carson Street. Yet, even as her concern grew that he might not yet be certain in his decision to stay, Louisa couldn’t dismiss her body’s response to him, no matter how much she wanted to.
He turned and immediately stood, his beautiful blue eyes intense on hers.
She stepped into the room and waved towards the sofa. ‘Sit. Please.’
Lowering onto the sofa, he stretched his arm across the back of the seat and exhaled. ‘So, are you open for business?’
His direct question seemed loaded with accusation. If he disapproved of her intentions, why was he here? She would not allow him to waste her time. Jacob was who she wanted beside her, but if he thought he could stand in judgement of her, she would find another protector soon enough.
Defiantly lifting her chin, Louisa sat beside him, pride pulsing through her. ‘Not yet, but our efforts to spread the word over the last few days will prove fruitful, I’m sure. Word is most definitely spreading.’
‘I see.’
‘We haven’t had any gentlemen come to the house asking questions. At least, not yet, but a few girls have come by looking for work. That tells me people are discussing the house and know the nature of its services.’
Something akin to dread flashed in his eyes. ‘You’ve employed more women? How many do you intend having here exactly?’
Louisa tried to gauge what his brusqueness meant but deciphering anything about Jacob Jackson continued to elude her. Everything but the certainty he was meant to be here. With her. ‘In time, I’d like to think I’ll be in a position to give more working women a safe haven but, for now, I need to concentrate on earning enough money to keep a roof over our heads.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘And, of course, yours. If you should choose to live here, as I’d prefer.’
‘Hmm.’
His indecision was clear, and Louisa’s nerves stretched at the idea that he might leave. ‘The thought of more women here displeases you?’
‘Not so much displeases as worries me. More women means less chance of me being able to ensure they are all unharmed.’
‘Your presence will be enough to ensure they are unharmed.’
‘Why would you assume that?’
She forced herself to hold his gaze with confidence. ‘Look at you, Jacob. You are big, strong and sombre enough to make any gentleman think twice before he raised his hand to one of my girls.’ She paused, wanting him to know it was more than his physical strength that had drawn her to trust in him. ‘You are a good man. A loyal man. One who, I sense, doesn’t flee from difficulty but faces it. Deals with it.’ She sighed. ‘We need a man like you here. Side by side with us…’ She held his gaze. ‘With me.’
He didn’t look away from her but he showed no reaction to her speech either. ‘And if I agree to bed and board, will I effectively be at your beck and call?’
She hesitated. His face was unmoving and unease knotted Louisa’s stomach. Her unwavering self-assurance had to be in place at all times. Had to be present from the very beginning or else he would think her a fraud. ‘Yes.’
Louisa struggled not to squirm under his intense study. This was a test. His first jab at her authority.
‘Tea is served.’
He ever so slightly jumped as Nancy came into the room carrying a tea tray. Louisa tightened her lips against the urge to smile. She’d seen Nancy from the corner of her eye and thus had had the upper hand. One she would have to thank her friend for later.
‘Thank you, Nancy.’ Louisa inched forward towards the table where Nancy had placed the tray. ‘You can leave us.’
Nancy scowled and huffed as she left the room.
Louisa picked up a spoon and lifted the lid of the teapot. ‘So, is being at my beck and call something you think you could tolerate, Jacob? You will be paid well for your service.’ She laid down the spoon. ‘I need you to keep Nancy and Octavia safe. Their wellbeing matters more to me than anything. Money, status, success… none of it will ever concern me more than the women who work here.’
He slipped his arm from the sofa and leaned forward, staring at the carpet for a long moment before facing her. ‘And you? What about your wellbeing?’
Louisa stilled. No one had ever asked about her wellbeing. Not her parents when they’d left a note saying they weren’t coming back. Not her madam at the brothel. And not Anthony, she realised now.
She busied herself with the tea, porcelain clinking porcelain as she lifted the trembling teapot against a cup. ‘I’ll be perfectly fine. I always am.’
His ensuing silence brought a humiliating heat to her cheeks. She stared at the cup, not daring to pick it up while her hands continued to shake. What was it about Jacob, about his penetrating gaze, that made her falter? Had she made a huge mistake insisting he was the right man to care for and protect her friends?
‘Then I promise to look after Nancy and Octavia.’ His voice was soft and low, barely audible above the pulsing in her ears. ‘But I need to say something before we go any further.’
She swallowed, her throat dry. ‘Which is?’
‘How often will you be taking… clients?’
Rather than disapproval this time, his expression relayed concern, care. Louisa cursed the heat that rose in her cheeks. His care was considerably harder to endure than his displeasure.
‘As often as I need to. For now, my most important role is to ensure the house is a success. Look after the money coming in and out. Ensuring our clients are happy rather than assuming or abusive.’ She put down the teapot and exhaled a shaky breath. ‘I want this house to be exemplary, Jacob. What will occur here will be neither easy nor acceptable to most of society. No matter how wrong or unfair it might be, a woman’s body has always been her end option for survival. I hope, no pray, that one day that won’t be the case, but now, in 1851, it is the case entirely.’
His gaze lingered on hers, dropped for a brief moment to her lips, before he lifted the teapot, filling the second cup. He held it out to her, steady and unmoving. ‘I’ll accept your offer and willingly take bed and board, but…’
She took the cup, pleased that it did not tremble. Now he had agreed to her terms, relief rather than pitiful insecurity filled her. Yet, that only proved her weakness. That there was every possibility the house would not succeed without a man’s presence. No matter how much she might want to prove herself worthy – Nancy and Octavia worthy – of living independent lives she wanted Jacob here for them. For her.
She lifted the cup to her lips. ‘But?’
‘In time, I will want to review the importance of your wellbeing.’
Twenty-Five
From Louisa Hill’s attic, Jacob stared through the window towards the small park and Pulteney Bridge beyond. How in God’s name had he got here? Worse, why had he allowed conversation between himself and Louisa – and his barely concealed care for her – to secure her confidence that he could protect her and the other women living here?
The woman must be half-blind if she could not see what was staring her straight in the face. Or rather who.
He was a man incapable of protecting anyone.
He fought for a living. Beat men black and blue and profited from their pain. Yet, Louisa had mentioned his loyalty, an incapability of fleeing from his problems. Well, guilt was his problem and he had been constantly running from that. Couldn’t she see that he possessed an insatiable need to prove his strength to himself? That she had provided yet another facilitating avenue that he would use to try to assuage the continual feeling of failure that resided inside of him? As for him accepting he was anything more than the son of a murderer, he couldn’t believe that would ever happen.
That it hadn’t been Louisa who came looking for him this morning, but the other way around relentlessly irked him. He had come to Carson Street of his own free will and was now living and working here. So he only had himself to blame for whatever happened next. As soon as he’d left the club – his stitches removed – his feet had found their way here of their own accord and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do about it.
Jacob gripped the walls either side of the window until his fingers ached. What in God’s name would Louisa think of him if she knew he was the product of a man who had beaten his wife to death? That the same violent tendencies that were rife in his father were alive and well in Jacob? But God, he wanted to protect her. To not fail this time. He needed to believe that change in his life and in himself might one day be possible.
That was why the pull towards this house hadn’t waned. This job had the potential to prove his life could change. Prove himself worthy of Louisa’s interest and trust. So that she might look at him and believe she had found a man who would give his life to protect her and the women under her care.
She was the first woman who looked at him without fear in her eyes. Her instinct and trust in him made Jacob feel ten feet tall.
He was attracted to her spirit and the fire that burned in her violet eyes. Eyes that made him want her. Or maybe it would be her smile that would eventually be his undoing. She was more woman than any he had ever met and her kindness to others only made it more difficult to keep the ice around in his heart firmly in place.
The fact it was beginning to splinter was terrifying. Dangerous and ultimately painful, if the unfamiliar stirring in his chest was anything to go by.
There was a knock on his door, and Jacob dropped his hands from the window, exhaustion pressing down on him.
‘Come—’
‘Only us, Jacob.’ Nancy strode into the room, her auburn curls swaying about her face and her smile wide. ‘Now you’re settled, Octavia and I thought it only right and proper that we tell you a little about what’s what when we open for business on Friday night.’
Amused by her swagger, the self-loathing Jacob struggled with slightly diminished and he smirked as he walked to the bed. ‘Go ahead.’
She glanced at Octavia who met his stare with narrowed eyes. Nancy waved towards a chair in the corner of the room. ‘Have a seat, Octavia. You have as much to tell Jacob as me, don’t you?’
The other woman sat, her eyes still on Jacob.
He crossed his arms. ‘Do you ladies have a problem with me being here? Think Louisa was wrong in selecting me to look after you? If you do, I can’t say I entirely disagree with you.’
Nancy gave a dismissive wave. ‘Of course you’re the right person to look after us. I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again, if Louisa pursues something, it will always turn out right. She is stronger than steel.’ She sat next to him on the bed and scowled. ‘The only person who managed to slew her intuition was that cheating husband of hers, but that’s another story.’
Jacob kept his face impassive. The last thing he wanted was to be drawn into conversation about the man who’d once had the honour to share Louisa’s bed. ‘So, what is it you want to tell me?’
‘Well, as you know, we are going to be servicing clients…’
‘I gathered that much. Go on.’
‘Well, for me, it’s been a while. We left the brothel several years ago and I haven’t… been with a man since.’ She glanced again at Octavia and surprise flashed in her eyes before she looked towards the window. Nancy faced Jacob. ‘What I’m saying is, I’m a little out of practice. It might take some time for me to get back into the swing of things.’
Jacob frowned, unsure where Nancy was going with this. ‘All right. And…’
‘And men who have the lust in them haven’t patience with a whore who isn’t confident in what she’s doing.’
He looked between the two women who both stared back at him expectantly. What in God’s name did they want him to say? ‘Which means?’
Nancy sighed. ‘Which means I’m probably going to need a lot more looking out for than Octavia here. At least, I will until I find my… feet again. I’m sorry to put extra pressure on you not to let Louisa down, but I owe it to you to tell you what’s what. The fact is, I’m glad you’re here, Jacob. Really glad. I don’t think I’d be so keen to do what we have to do if you weren’t around.’
Jacob studied her. The woman was afraid, or at least, nervous. Her bubbly personality and easy smile when she was with Louisa had vanished, leaving behind a vulnerability he hadn’t foreseen or imagined. His gut lurched. Christ, Nancy was at least three years younger than Louisa; Octavia at least two years younger again.
Sickness rolled through him as he looked at Octavia. ‘And what about you? Do you have any reservations about what you’re expected to do?’
‘None whatsoever.’
Her face was set, her colour pale, and further concern knotted Jacob’s gut. These women appeared to be of an entirely different nature to one another yet had ended up in the same occupation in order to survive ‘Octavia, be honest with me. Do you welcome my protection or resent it?’
She held his gaze. ‘Only time can answer that question, Mr Jackson.’
Jacob studied her. The first time he’d met her, Octavia had been dirty, her hair somewhat brushed but her clothes as soiled as her face and arms. Her bosom had been covered, but an inch or two of leg visible between the top of her split boots and the hem of her skirt. There would have been no mistaking the service she offered, yet her posh way of speaking hadn’t rung true to her appearance.
Now she was dressed in satin, her face clean and dark hair gleaming. Octavia could easily pass for a lady of status, her articulation more than fitting. Uncertainty about her, Louisa and Nancy continued to harangue him, but he was here now, come what may.
