Free The Lady in the Tower by Karen Hawkins, Holly Crawford

for Jane.
    She tapped a
long, bejeweled finger on the card he’d chosen, still face down on the table.
Thornton’s questioning of Jane’s behavior had been grossly disappointing; she’d
expected him to have more confidence in Jane than that. On the other hand, he
had praised Jane’s abilities quite profusely.
    Catherine
suspected that for a man like him, that was far, far more significant.
    She stared at
the back of the card he’d chosen and then turned it over.  A pagan male
figure elevated a wand over an alchemy table with the words “The Magician.”
    Seeing it, she
took a breath. And smiled.
     

Chapter 8
     
    The day of
Catherine’s party arrived. Jane took greater care with her appearance, insuring
every curling wisp was secured and pinned. Despite the festive occasion, Jane
chose a deep blue gown and elected to wear simple ear bobs. Thankfully, there
remained only the lightest smudge from Thornton’s brand at her throat. She
brushed a bit of rice powder over it and camouflaged it.
    After
dressing, she returned to her desk to gather the cleaned copy of her article.
As she collected the pages, her gaze fell on the envelope holding the tarot
card. Why not? she asked herself. She parted
the opened envelope to remove the tarot card.
    The picture
showed a brightly colored turret surrounded by thorns and briars at its base.
At the bottom of the card scrawled the words “The Tower.”
    Jane frowned.
Of all the things she’d thought the card could have been, this wasn’t it. She’d
been expecting—hoping ?— for something a bit
more, well, romantic. A knight on a charger, or a magician,
or even a fool.
    But
a tower? What was she to make of that?
    Voices from
the foyer interrupted her musings. Ah, the cab must have arrived. She
tossed the card to the desk, and collected her papers and then went into the
foyer. “Jennings, I shouldn’t be late. Don’t wait up—“
    Richard
Thornton stood in her foyer. The sight of him nearly knocked the breath from
her as a flood of heated memories flushed over her. “What are you doing here?”
    “Escorting you
to the duchess’s party. I wrote this morning and told her I would. Didn’t she
tell you?”
    “No.” What
is Catherine up to ?  
    “I see,” he
said, though clearly he was as bemused as she.
    “We are
obviously being played like the tarot cards Catherine so enjoys.”
    “Apparently
so.” He rubbed his jaw , his eyes
alight . “We have two choices. We succumb to pride and ride to the
duchess’s house in separate conveyances, or we admit defeat and ride together
in spite of her knowledge. However, before you answer, I had Sam place foot
warmers in my carriage, as well as two extra blankets. You will be much more
comfortable with me.”
    “Comfort”
wasn’t a word she associated with Richard, but she turned to Jennings. “I won’t
need the hired cab.” Then, to Richard, she said, “Shall we go?”
    He held the
door for her and she moved to step out before remembering. “Wait.” She went to
the umbrella stand in the corner of the vestibule. “Here,” she said, and handed
him his lacquer cane.
    He took it,
his smile warm and she knew he was remembering their time together. “Thank
you.”
    Face heated,
she turned and led the way outside.
    The carriage
ride took longer than usual with the typical evening traffic. For herself, Jane
was glad for the sedate pace. Her stomach was already in knots and she didn’t
need a breakneck pace through Mayfair to make her feel worse. To quiet her
nerves, she deliberately took an interest in the scenery out the window, glad
for the foot warmers and thick carriage blankets.
    As they neared
the duchess’s house, Richard tapped his boot with his walking stick. “That
liniment you sent over has definite beneficial properties.”
    She felt as if
she were talking to a stranger. “How’s the stiffness in the knee?”
    “Better, I
have to admit.”
    She smiled
politely. “Good.”
    Her knees
nearly touched his