Saving Lady Jack: Those Scandalous Taggarts, #6

By Tammy Jo Burns

She is a healer living alone...

 

Jacqueline Grey (or Jack as she prefers to be called) is content to live life alone in her little cottage, treating the villagers' illnesses. But when her grandmother arrives with a mysterious ailment that is affecting her memory, Jack cannot stand to do nothing. So she packs up the few things she owns and goes to London. Little does she know that when she arrives, her grandmother plans to introduce her to the beau monde.

 

He is an investigator uncertain where he belongs...

 

Dominic Grantham has been found by his family and he's not quite certain how he feels about it, especially the fact that he now has to interact with members of the ton on a regular basis considering his long, lost parents are the Earl and Countess of Davenport. Thanks to the eye patch he wears, the women twitter and whisper about him being a pirate while the men just do their best to ignore him.

 

Can two lonely hearts find love?

 

Months earlier, Grantham, a private investigator, found Lady Jack on behalf of her grandmother. So when the women's lives are endangered and the situation turns desperate, he is the only person Lady Jack feels she can turn to for help. As they work to find out who wants Jack permanently out of the way, the two grow closer until feelings can no longer be denied. But will love be enough for a free-spirited, independent woman? And will they find out who wants Lady Jack dead before it's too late?

 

This is a part of a series, and even though you will see some familiar faces from other books in the series, it does not have to be read in any particular order. A guaranteed HEA with no cliff-hangers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tammy Jo Burns
• Release date: Jul 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201825294

Book preview

Prologue

A re you sure you want to do this, Jack? Megan McTavish, the Countess of Brookdale asked her friend.

No, Jacqueline Grey, whom all her closest friends and family (which was actually very few people) called Jack, answered honestly. Meggy, the thought of living in London and attending balls and parties terrifies me.

Then why are you doing it? Why go and put yourself through all the fanfare and horrible people you know will be there.

Hopefully, not everyone will be horrible. It will be nice to get to know my family, at least I keep telling myself that. I must have been around five to ten years old the last time I saw them. Papa would want me to make an effort. I’m not sure what happened between him and Grandfather, but I know he loves Grandmother. He would want me to try to help her. To see if I could make her well. Remember, I wrote him and let him know he is now the Marquess of Bramlett. He will have to return to England and make some decisions in regard to the estate.

That’s all well and good, but when that investigator… Oh, what was his name? Grayford? Jameson?

Grantham, Jack supplied.

So he made enough of an impression that you remember his name. Meggy smirked at her friend.

In reply, Jack merely arched a fine, Titian brow at her.

Fine. When Grantham sought you out, you refused to go. What is different now?

I met Grandmother, Jack replied as she continued packing her herbs, wrapping the jars carefully so they wouldn’t break as they were jostled in transit. She paused and looked at Meggy. I mean, I knew her from when I was younger, but this time, well…it was…

What? Meggy cocked her head curiously.

Sad. Odd. She was incredibly lucid one moment and the next she was…well…not. Sometimes she’s lost in the past and sometimes she…well, she just wasn’t present. I want to help her if I can.

If anyone can, it’s you. Meggy stood and crossed to her, hugging Jack tightly. Just promise me you’ll be careful.

What could possibly happen to me in London? Jack scoffed, giving her friend a squeeze and laughing.

I just thought of something, Meggy said, suddenly sounding very serious.

What? Jack pulled back and studied her friend.

"You are now Lady Jacqueline Grey."

Oh, heavens. Perhaps you should feel sorry for London, Jack said and then the two women broke into gales of laughter. Help me finish packing. Meggy readily pitched in offering her opinion on things Jack would need once she arrived in London.

1

April 1816, three months later…

Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?

Yes, Jack kindly lied to her grandmother while plastering a bright smile on her face. She did not wish to hurt the older woman’s feelings, but she did not enjoy the play any more than she enjoyed the opera, soirees, dinner parties, or balls. It wasn’t the acting she didn’t enjoy, it was the hordes of people they attracted. She felt as if she was suffocating. She just wanted to return to her simple little cottage, but this dear woman needed her. So here she was.

Isn’t the gentleman playing Macbeth so handsome, Lizzie? And that voice…

Jack, Grandmother, she whispered. She placed her right hand protectively on Sarah Grey, the Dowager Marchioness Bramlett’s left arm and gently squeezed.

Wh…what?

Remember, I’m Jack, Jacqueline said, concern laced her voice and darkened her amber eyes. Her heart clenched at the confusion she saw in the older woman’s dark brown eyes, and then, suddenly, they were clear and vibrant once more.

"Why, Jacqueline, of course I know who you are. It’s just that you look so much like a dear friend of mine from when I was young. It’s quite uncanny. I do wish you would stop going by that name, though. You are a beautiful woman, not a boy. Jack. Psh. Never in my life have I heard a girl wish to be called a boy’s name."

It’s simpler, Jack leaned in close and whispered. They were garnering irritated looks from the surrounding boxes of fellow attendees.

Your name is beautiful, and you should enjoy hearing people say it.

You’re just saying that because I’m named after Papa.

And he’s named after his father. A wistful smile curved the older woman’s lips, and a teardrop clung to her lashes.

What? Jack asked, certain she had misheard, because her grandfather’s name had not been Jack or any derivative of it.

I missed so much.

Papa doesn’t blame you. He knows you love him, and he loves you. I’m just sorry he and Mama can’t easily come for a visit. Massachusetts is so very far away. Papa had to finish his teaching assignment before they could pack up the family and come back to London.

I know. I would have loved to travel to see them, but we will all be reunited soon. In the meantime I have you, my darling girl.

And I have you. Jacqueline smiled with true joy as her grandmother squeezed her chin and brought her close to drop a kiss on her cheek. She found herself wondering if Grandmother was as demonstrative with the rest of the family. Somehow she couldn’t bring up the image of warmth and caring when it came to Aunt Diana, Papa’s sister. She was so cold and followed society’s dictates to the letter of the unspoken law.

Uncle David, her father’s younger brother, and his wife, Beatrice, seemed to be the exception. Beatrice and David had five daughters ranging in ages from nineteen to ten. No boys in the lot, poor Uncle David. Even their pet dog was a female.

But when Jack had finally arrived in town and agreed to stay on for a bit, it had been Beatrice who had volunteered to take Jack shopping for clothes appropriate for going out in the ton. She, Grandmother, Beatrice, and the girls (yes, all five of them) had shopped from morning until night, for an entire week, until Jack was sick unto death of stores, fittings, choosing fabric, and the busy London streets.

Oh, my, he’s looking at you so intently, Grandmother whispered in her ear, breaking into her thoughts.

Grandmother, he’s looking at everyone intently. He’s an actor.

"Not him!"

Jack patted her arm softly shushing her and smiling apologetically at the people glaring at them. Perhaps we should leave, Jack suggested softly.

This box has been paid for, and if I want to sit and converse with my granddaughter while someone entertains us, I certainly will. Lady Bramlett finished by waving her arms about in a flourish and then crossing them beneath her bosom.

Jack felt the heat of a blush climbing up her pale skin. She removed her hand from her Grandmother’s arm and put it to her brow, blocking out the looks she knew they were receiving—everything from irritation to humor. Ever since Jack joined Sarah in London, the older woman seemed to worry less and less about what people said or thought about her. She also vocalized her opinions and thoughts more and more. Jack wasn’t worried for herself, but for her grandmother. The situation was worrisome, indeed.

"I’m talking about that handsome young pirate sitting with Lord and Lady Davenport. You know, quite a scandal there, but I say good for them. If only I had had the courage…"

What, Grandmother? Jack asked, dropping her hand to look at Sarah.

He is looking at you, she said instead, nudging her granddaughter. Why does he look so familiar? Sarah mused, tapping her gloved index finger against the side of her chin.

No one here knows me, Jack replied in a whisper.

"You are beautiful and smart. And then there’s that gorgeous red hair of yours and the exotic gray streak in it. No, Jacqueline, trust me, people know you. Men know you. Men want to know you. That one especially seems to know you. He looks like a pirate. He looks like that man I hired to find you. That’s it! That is why he looks so familiar!"

They were shushed by voices all around and, if Jack wasn’t mistaken, even the actors on stage sent them a brief, scathing look before continuing.

Shh, Jack whispered and reached out to lower her Grandmother’s pointing finger, and couldn’t help following it. Almost exactly across the way from them, on the level above, sat a man blatantly staring at her from one eye. The right eye was covered by a patch. Even from this distance, she knew his left eye glittered like a polished emerald. His hair, a light, sandy brown, hung loose around his shoulders, but he was dressed impeccably.

"What is he doing here?" she unknowingly muttered.

He nodded his head at her in greeting from across the opera house. In response, Jack fisted her hands together and clenched her jaw until it ached.

"Ahh, so you do know him."

No, she vehemently denied.

You know what Shakespeare said.

"Grandmother, I don’t wish to speak of it or him."

But you must know him. He told me—

Pardon me, I paid good money to see this play. Do you mind if I enjoy the remainder of this half in silence? a man asked from the box next to theirs.

Don’t let him get to you, my dear. I knew his mother. She was even more unpleasant than he is.

Why—

Wilfred, do quit your blustering and allow people to enjoy the entertainment they paid to see, Sarah countered, cutting him off. Giggles, chuckles, and clearing throats followed her statement. Jack thought the man was going to have a fit of apoplexy right there.

Jack’s anxiety rose when she noticed her Aunt Diana and her husband, Philip. They were in attendance with their sons—Philip (Phil so as not to be confused with his father) and Peter and their wives. Her Aunt Diana looked at Jack in irritation and mouthed the words, Do something, at her before she turned her focus back on the play.

I apologize, sir. We will remain quiet. I promise, Jack attempted to placate the man.

Hmph, he growled and his jowls flapped like a bulldog. He crossed his arms and turned in his chair, causing it to creak loudly.

Jack winced, hoping the chair didn’t collapse under the man’s behemoth size and cause him more irritation. She knew if that happened he would somehow manage to lay the blame at Grandmother’s feet. Raising her hand, she nervously twisted a Titian curl that had escaped her updo around her finger. Sarah reached over, patted her thigh, and winked at her before turning back to the entertainment as if nothing had happened.

Her father had instilled a fondness of Shakespeare in his children, and despite her love of Macbeth in particular, Jack couldn’t focus on the performance. It amazed her how one could be in one of the largest cities in the world, surrounded by people, and yet feel very much alone.

Her gaze drifted upward without moving her head. Where did he go? Jack muttered under her breath. Better yet, what was an investigator doing sitting in a box at the opera? Was it payment for services rendered? she wondered.

Grandmother, who are Lord and Lady Davenport? Jack whispered curiously.

Who, dear?

Jack looked over, and not for the first time, saw the strange vacantness in her grandmother’s eyes. It was as if she was having difficulty recalling things. There did, however, seem to be one part of her life she found solace in and would somehow revert back to that time. Jack found it quite worrisome, for it seemed to be getting worse despite everything she had tried. But just as it seemed there was no hope, there would be days when Sarah had no issues at all. It was so confusing.

Grandmother, should we leave?

Please do, Wilfred grunted under his breath.

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to rein in her temper. She was about to prod Grandmother to stand so they could leave when applause startled her. The curtain was being closed on the stage and men were turning up the lamps all over the interior of the auditorium.

Get your cloak and we will—

You’re not leaving already, are you, Miss Grey?

The deep voice had Jack’s head snapping up and her breath quickening. What are you doing here, Investigator Grantham? she asked. She was irritated with herself at the slightly breathless quality to her voice. He’s an irritating arse, she reminded herself. Be nice to him, remember he saved your life. And Meggy’s. She draped her cloak back over her chair once more, stood straight, and faced Dominic Grantham.

"I live in London, remember? The better question is what are you doing here? I seem to recall you were never going to leave your little hamlet and I could go to—"

I changed my mind, she interrupted him.

I see.

You don’t, and I don’t feel the need to explain anything to you.

Fair enough. Why are you leaving? It’s only intermission.

I’m feeling unwell.

Jacqueline, you are not, her grandmother countered. Now, go take a stroll with this nice young man who came all this way to see you.

Grandmother—

Young man, are you a pirate?

No, my lady, I am not.

Good. Then I will hear no more arguments. Now go. Here comes my friend, Charlotte. Go on. Sarah shooed them out of the box as an older woman entered, nodding regally at them as they passed her.

Regardless of what my grandmother said, I am feeling unwell, Jacqueline said mutinously as they walked along the corridor.

That is too bad. What ails you?

My head, she said evasively. It wasn’t a complete lie. Her head was starting to throb and the tension was spreading down her neck and jaw and into her shoulders.

Look, Jack, he paused when she gave him a look that said he had crossed a line. Miss Grey—

"Actually, it’s Lady Grey or Lady Jacqueline," she corrected, raising her chin haughtily.

I know we met under strained circumstances, but you’re here now, and we do have a sort of a history. That should count for something. Don’t you think?

Count for something? What are you trying to say, Mr. Grantham?

I really wish I knew, he sighed, tunneling his fingers through his long hair.

Tell me, what is an investigator doing attending a play with a peer of the realm and his wife? Is it payment for services rendered?

If only, he huffed.

What then? I must admit I’m curious. You seem woefully out of place and extremely uncomfortable. More so than me, I think. My grandmother even mentioned that you looked like a pirate.

He chuckled. A pirate. I think I just might take that as a compliment. I admit I am very uncomfortable being here.

Yet here you are, she said, refusing to admit how uncomfortable she was herself.

Yes. I found out not too long ago, my life has been a lie. That couple I’m sitting with are the Earl and Countess of Davenport. They are my true parents.

Pardon? she asked, coming to a halt and staring at him.

It appears I was not raised by my birth parents, and I truly should have been raised in all this, he waved his hand to encompass the world around them.

How bloody ironic, Jack mused, incurring several startled looks from passersby. A smile played at her lips, and her eyes danced with curiosity and mirth.

Yes. It is a strange world, isn’t it?

You have no idea. At least I knew growing up my father belonged in society. He just chose to turn his back on it. So, tell me what happened to you.

Not here. Not now. It’s too bloody crowded. What if I take you out tomorrow? We could catch up—

You act as if we’re long lost friends, Mr. Grantham. My grandmother hired you to find me.

Yes, how is it she doesn’t remember me. Granted, her solicitor first found me, but then I reported my finding you straight to her.

She did remember you momentarily, but she’s having…memory issues.

I am sorry about that. What happened to your hair? he asked curiously.

My hair? she lifted a hand and patted her coiffure.

Yes. That streak of gray, just there. He reached across and touched the place he was talking about, just over her left eye.

It showed up over the weeks after the attack, she said evasively and took a step back so his hand would no longer be touching her.

Hmmm.

Jack firmed her lips and gave a quick nod. Anyway, you did your job. I’ve come to London to be welcomed into the family fold, well, at least by Grandmother. The rest of the family I’m not so certain about. So tell me why do you think we need to—

Laughter, followed by gasps and several shouts had Jack looking through the curtains of a box they were passing by. Grandmother, no! she yelled.

2

Her grandmother’s long sable hair, shot through with strands of silver, hung loose having been removed from its elegant coiffure and showed its tendency to curl. One of her gloves fluttered down to the onlookers below, and she was attempting to maneuver a leg over the box’s railing.

As Jack took all this in, Grantham turned away and raced down the hallway towards her Grandmother’s box. Jack followed closely on his heels, praying they got there in time. She vaguely wondered where Grandmother’s friend had gone and cursed herself for leaving her. By the time Jack entered the box, Grandmother was in Grantham’s arms, giggling uncontrollably.

Thank you, Jack said huskily. She pressed her palm to her chest and could feel her heart trying to beat its way out. What happened to your friend, Grandmother?

Who? she asked, blinking as if she were trying to bring Jack into focus.

Get her cloak, Grantham directed.

Moving automatically, she did as he instructed. When she turned around, he had placed Sarah on her shoeless feet. Jack approached them and wrapped the cloak around her grandmother, fastening the frog at her throat.

Gather her things, Grantham instructed, keeping his voice soft and soothing.

Jack did so, trying to ignore the remaining laughter. She heard a loud buzzing and couldn’t quite tell if it came from the theater or internally. She stood and turned to see her Aunt Diana staring daggers at her from across the auditorium.

Ready? Grantham asked.

Y…yes.

Lead the way, he said, lifting her grandmother in his arms once more.

"My, you are strong. Just like my darling, Jack. And so handsome, too. You are extremely handsome, sir, especially with that eyepatch. Do you know Jack? I have not seen him in several days, and I am ever so worried."

I’m sorry, I haven’t.

Lizzie, have you seen your brother? Lizzie, stop walking away from me. I need to see Jack. I have a secret to tell him, Sarah said, her eyes sparkling.

What in bloody hell is going on here? Phil, Diana’s oldest son demanded, blocking their exiting the box. Mother wants to know what is going on here.

Grandmother’s having a spell, Jack supplied.

Well, why did you let it happen? More importantly, why did you allow it to happen in public? Just look at her, she is half undressed, Phil insisted and waved his hand to encompass Lady Sarah. He was definitely the harsher of the the two brothers and did everything his mother ordered him to. And now this…this—

Yes? Grantham practically snarled at the man who deemed himself more important than he was.

Phil, Peter said, stepping in when he saw his older brother was only making the situation worse. Can you not see the strain Jack is under? Besides, she cannot control when the old girl has these spells any more than you can.

Thank you, Peter, Jack said relieved that at least one person in her family understood the situation.

And I believe we owe our thanks to this man for helping in this situation.

The only answer Peter received from Phil was a disdainful glare.

You can come to the house and berate me all you want, Jack quickly infiltrated the silence, but I am begging you to stand aside and let us leave in peace. Let us get Grandmother out of here before anymore damage is done. Please.

Excuse me, sir, have you seen my dear Jack? He was supposed to meet me tonight, Grandmother said to Phil.

Uncle Jack is in England? Peter asked with a hint of excitement in his voice.

No, Jack replied, rubbing at her brow, her head pounded ferociously. I’m not certain who she’s talking about. Please, Phil, let us pass, Jack pleaded. I need to take her home.

Of course, my dear, Peter said. Phil, let them go. Can’t you see she has enough to deal with without adding your public inquisition to the list.

Jack gave Peter a grateful smile.

Is she all right? Phil asked grudgingly.

Mr. Grantham reached her before anything unfortunate happened, Jack answered.

Get her home, Phil ordered before he turned and stalked off.

Ignore him. He is as worried about the old girl as the rest of us are. He just listens to Mother more than he should. Are you certain she is all right? Peter queried once more, putting a comforting hand on Jack’s shoulder.

Look, I am floating!

So you are, old girl. Peter gave his grandmother a wink. I will drop in and check on you tomorrow.

That would be so lovely, Sarah said, suppressing a yawn. Goodnight.

Goodnight, Grandmother. Jack, if you need anything…

I will send for you, I promise. He dropped a kiss on her cheek and turned to rejoin his wife and family.

He was pleasant, Grantham observed.

Yes. Phil can be, too. He’s worried about Grandmother and the family’s reputation. His father’s also been suffering from severe headaches.

Anything you can do to help?

Possibly, but my Aunt Diana will not allow her husband to accept my help. Aunt Diana is my father’s sister and likes to ramrod the family even though she isn’t in charge. Phil’s stuck between worrying about his parents and his own wife, who is expecting their first child. I’m certain it’s a lot of pressure for him. May we go, now?

Of course, after you.

Excuse me. Pardon me. Won’t you kindly step aside. Thank you. Thank you so much. Jack led the way through the throng of people who were milling about during the intermission. She did her best to part them for Mr. Grantham. She gritted her teeth and fisted her hands as giggles and whispers followed her down the stairs, through the foyer, and out the front doors. A fine mist greeted them as they exited the building. Of course it would be as sodden as a drowning sailor. Why would it be anything less? She stared up at the night sky, not sure whether she wanted to yell expletives or sink down and cry. And it’s absolutely freezing.

Why don’t you locate the driver? I’m sure he’s over with his contemporaries trying to stay dry and pass the time.

Yes, Jack agreed and headed in that direction, causing the men to stand up straight and pause whatever activity they were participating in. She watched as two men stepped apart from the others and recognized them as their driver and a tiger dressed in the family’s livery.

Can I help you, m’lady? the driver asked politely.

Jack momentarily hesitated as she always did when someone referred to her as my lady or any variation of it. She was merely a girl raised in a university village. She was only trying to help her grandmother and make her father proud—

A scream interrupted her thoughts. Jack’s heart jumped in her throat as she spun around and saw her grandmother struggling in Mr. Grantham’s arms, screaming hysterically. Jack raced back to them, calling out to the older woman the entire time.

Grandmother, shhh, all is well!

This brute will not put me down! My shoes! What have you done with my shoes? Is this some sort of way for you to abscond with me you vile, one-eyed pirate!

Jack looked up and saw Mr. Grantham’s stiffening posture. She didn’t mean it. She’s always confused after—

My hair! What did you do to my hair you…you…

Grandmother, stop! Jack said sharply, grabbing her grandmother’s chin a little more forcefully than perhaps she should have, but knowing she needed to get the woman’s attention before their only aide left them with no assistance at all.

Jacq…Jacqueline?

Yes, Grandmother.

Where am I? What’s happened? What—

Shh, Jack tried to soothe her like one would a child who had awoken from a nightmare and was confused.

M’lady, is all well? the driver asked, concern etched on his face.

No. Grandmother is not feeling well. We need to take her home immediately.

Of course, m’lady. Smitty, you heard her ladyship.

Jack watched the boy, most likely in his early teens, run across the way and stand at the coach, ready to open the door for whomever approached. She could see that James, the driver, wanted to rush over and ready the team, but stayed solicitously near their side unsure of Mr. Grantham’s trustworthiness at the moment.

James, we’re fine.

Are you certain, m’lady?

Yes. Mr. Grantham is reliable and will keep us safe. He has been a great help thus far.

Yes, m’lady. He gave her a brusque nod before rushing past her. He climbed up on the coach and took up the reins, ready to nudge the team into motion as soon as the door shut on the coach.

Jack reached the coach first and scrambled inside after the tiger opened the door. Here, she said, holding out her arms to assist her grandmother inside. Once she did, she expected the door to shut, the tiger to jump onto the back of the coach, and the sound of horses clip-clopping as they pulled the coach into traffic. Instead, the rather large man with the eye patch entered the confines of the carriage making it feel excruciatingly tiny inside. What are you doing? Jack demanded, trying to comfort her grandmother as the conveyance now rocked along the street.

Can you carry her inside? Grantham demanded.

I’m certain she’ll be able to walk by the time we reach the house.

She’s shaking uncontrollably and is in her stockinged feet.

She will be fine.

She can hear you both and speak for herself, Sarah interrupted them. Jacqueline, darling, allow this nice young man to help us. Sir, I apologize for my rude outburst earlier. I…was confused and—

No need to explain, Lady Bramlett. I can only imagine how I would feel if some strange man were carrying me off, he said drolly, a smile tilted up one side of his mouth.

That would be quite the sight, would it not? Sarah asked, chuckling. "Imagine the size of the brute needed to carry you off."

A veritable giant, Grantham agreed.

You know, I think I recognize you now, the older woman said, pointing her finger at him then tapping it against her lip.

You do? Grantham arched his brow over his sparkling emerald eye. He wondered how much she could remember when just moments ago she was calling her granddaughter by a different name and putting on such an exhibition in front of all the theater-goers.

Yes. You are the young man I hired to find my darling Jacqueline and bring her home to me.

Yes, I am, Lady Bramlett, he said, truly impressed with her memory at this point.

Thank you for that. I do not know what I would do without her right now, Sarah said, her voice growing wobbly. Tears fell over her lower lashes and spilled down her still smooth cheeks.

If you remember, I was not successful in bringing her back with me.

But you gave me information about how to find her, and I was able to convince her to come stay with me.

Yes, you did, Jack said, giving her a side hug.

Jacqueline, what is happening to me?

Jack didn’t know what to tell her and could tell the moment reality fell completely upon her grandmother, weighing heavily upon her shoulders. Sobs racked Sarah’s body. Jack pulled her grandmother close and soothed her as best she could in the moving carriage.

She refused to look across the coach, because she didn’t want to see the pitying expression she knew would be given to her by Mr. Grantham. More importantly, she didn’t want him to see the tears she was desperately trying to keep at bay. Instead, she hugged her grandmother, rocking her and soothing her like her own mother had done for her and her siblings through the years.

Upon arriving at the elegant townhouse, the butler took one look at Lady Bramlett and sought out his wife, the housekeeper. The woman came bustling into the foyer, saw her mistress, and immediately took in the situation.

Mr. Jameson, get Molly immediately, she ordered her husband, referring to Lady Bramlett’s maid. Oh, my lady, did you have another spell? Mrs. Jameson asked, wrapping an arm around the older woman.

Y…yes, Sarah Grey sniffled and leaned on her long-time housekeeper for support.

There, there. You just come with me. We’ll get you settled and have Cook make you a nice cup of tea, Mrs. Jameson said in a protective manner.

I’ll be up in a bit to check on her, Jack told the housekeeper.

We will take care of her, my lady, Mrs. Jameson told Jack, effectively dismissing her from assisting her grandmother any further.

Jack watched them start up the stairs and saw Molly reach the first landing, joining them. Oh, my lady, not again, Molly moaned.

Molly, I get so confused, Lady Bramlett said, her voice quivering.

You’re home now. We’ll take care of you.

A maid was hovering nearby and Jack got her attention. Could you have Cook ready tea and perhaps a little something to eat for Grandmother?

Of course, m’lady, the maid said, performed a quick curtsy, and disappeared towards the kitchen.

Suddenly she was alone with Grantham in the foyer. The air between them was both charged and awkward.

Is there anything I can do for you? Grantham asked, breaking the silence first.

No, but I do appreciate you asking. I also appreciate your help tonight. Grandmother…well, her spells come upon her without warning.

Perhaps you should keep a diary in regard to when they occur. You know, write down what happened before. How she was behaving prior to the spell.

She stared at him.

What? Did I say something wrong? Oh. You can’t write. Is that it? I mean—

Of course, I can write. My parents saw that I was educated.

I wasn’t sure. You are a healer and—

So you believe healers are illiterate?

That’s not what I was implying.

"What, exactly then, were you implying, Mr. Grantham?" She crossed her arms awkwardly under her bosom, her cloak impeding her movement.

Nothing, he muttered.

Well, since you have nothing to add to your assumptions about me, thank you once again for assisting us and seeing us home. Do you need to use the carriage to take you home?

No. I’ll walk.

But it’s freezing and raining.

Concerned about my well-being, Lady Grey?

Not necessarily. Just attempting to be polite, Mr. Grantham. That is something else my parents taught me. Wouldn’t want you to need assistance from an illiterate healer if you become ill from being out in the elements after all, especially after coming to our rescue.

I doubt I will, Lady Grey. If you don’t need anything else from me, I’ll be going.

That would be best, Jack said.

Goodnight then, Lady Grey.

Goodnight, Mr. Grantham.

Jack stood there, waited for the irritating man to walk out the door, and slammed it behind him. She stared at the closed door. She wouldn’t be here if not for the man that had disappeared into the cold, wet, London night. The hell of it all was she didn’t know whether to thank him or despise him for her current situation.

Dominic hunched his shoulders and walked out of the upscale London neighborhood. A fine, cold mist fell, making him even colder. He heard the rattling of wheels and saw an unmarked coach rolling towards him. Waving his hand, he flagged down the driver, gave him directions, and took a seat inside.

He wanted nothing more than to go home and get warm, but he knew Helena and Henry would worry about his disappearance. Especially, Helena. It wasn’t long before the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane. Dominic jumped out, tossed the necessary coins, plus some, to the driver, and headed into the theater. He made his way up the stairs and slipped back into the box where he’d left Lord and Lady Davenport behind.

Is Lady Bramlett well? Helena quietly asked him.

Helena was more aware of where he had gone than he had imagined. He wasn’t sure he liked how that felt. To answer her question, he shook his head in a negative gesture.

Poor woman, she said. Thank you for helping her, Dominic, she said, patting his leg. It was a good thing you did.

He nodded and turned towards the stage to watch the rest of the performance. Dominic watched with little interest, his mind kept drifting back over the night’s recent events. Lady Grey attempted to be so independent. If he wasn’t mistaken though, she was resentful of his interference in her life all those months ago. He definitely hadn’t helped his cause when he had blubbered about her ability to read and write.

It doesn’t matter. You rarely go out in the ton, and the chances of you both being at the same functions isn’t all that high.

3

Jack sat curled in front of the fire in the study, a stack of old journals beside her. She preferred the study to the parlor because of its warm wood, books, and leather furniture. There was also the faint smell of tobacco that lingered in the air. She skimmed the pages of the journal in her lap, searching for anything she might have written down from Granny Ophelia, her maternal grandmother, in regard to treating memory ailments. So far she had been unsuccessful, and she was already halfway through the third journal. There were still two more journals for her to peruse after this one.

A knock sounded on the front door, distracting her from her reading. A few minutes later she heard another soft knock on the open study door.

Lady Havenshire and the Honorable Mrs. Grey are in the parlor awaiting your presence, my lady, the butler said with great formality.

Thank you, Mr. Jameson. I will be there in a moment. Could you see that tea and refreshments are provided?

Yes, my lady.

Jack added the journal she was looking through to the stack on the table beside the chair she occupied. With a heavy sigh she slipped on her shoes, stood, and left the room. Peter had stopped by as promised the day after the event at the theater. She should have known better than to believe his visit would save her from Aunt Diana stopping by.

Before she entered the parlor, she paused, took a deep breath, and let it out while rolling her neck in an effort to ease the tension already building. In actuality, she had expected them days ago. She had been surprised they, well, Aunt Diana, hadn’t beat down the door the night of the play. Somehow they had managed to wait exactly three days. Perhaps Peter had bought her some time after all. Pasting a smile on her face, she entered the parlor.

Aunt Diana, Aunt Beatrice, it’s so good to see you. What brings you by? Jack asked as she dipped into a quick curtsy.

Beatrice stood and greeted Jack with a warm hug while Diana remained sitting and aloof.

We didn’t disturb you, did we? Beatrice asked.

"Of course, you didn’t. It’s always a