Free The Clergyman's Daughter by Julia Jeffries Page A

wide brown eyes were as Jessica remembered them, dark and velvety, and they reminded her so much of her husband that she shivered.
    Raeburn sensed that shudder, and his hand caught her wrist, as if he feared she might flee. “Well, Jess, have you nothing to say?” he demanded.
    Jessica continued to gaze at the girl, her emotions an unstable amalgam of pain and nostalgia. At last she murmured, “I had forgotten how very like Andrew you are…Lady Claire.” She could not help the irony that crept into her voice as she added that title, but when she saw the girl’s obvious chagrin, she wished she had maintained better control over her tongue.
    “Oh, please, Jessica,” Claire pleaded, “don’t—don’t be so formal with me. I—I want us to be sisters now.”
    “Sisters, my lady?” Jessica queried drily, and she felt Raeburn’s grip tighten so painfully around her wrist that she winced.
    “Yes, Jessica,” Claire continued earnestly, unaware of her brother’s action, “or at least, friends. I know I was a brat to you before, unbearably high in the instep, but—but I hope you’ll let all that be in the past now. We’ve both lost someone we loved very much, and I’d like to think that—that….”
    Her young voice cracked suddenly, and Jessica realized that for a girl like Claire, cosseted and spoiled since birth; reared to believe in her inherent superiority, having her every whim catered to, such an apology must be difficult in the extreme. The daughters of earls were not often called upon to humble themselves before a clergyman’s offspring. For the first time in days, Jessica felt her chilled heart warm. Perhaps there was hope, after all…. With real gratitude for the effort the girl was making, Jessica leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “My dearest sister,” she said quietly.
    From beneath lowered lashes she glanced up at Raeburn, expecting to read pleasure in his narrowed gray eyes—or perhaps mockery—at her capitulation. But, strangely, the expression she saw mirrored there was something quite different, something—unexpected. Jealousy? Jessica thought in bewilderment. Resentment because she had smiled at his sister? No, no, of course not….
    Raeburn asked abruptly, “Where’s Aunt Talmadge, Claire? There’s someone else the two of you must meet.” He turned and beckoned to Willa, who had stood apart, Lottie cradled expertly in her arms. “Come, girl,” he barked, and Willa stepped forward between the ranks of liveried footmen, her weak chin held high as she ignored their knowing glances.
    Despite the adversities of the year she had dwelt in Brighton with her mistress, the anonymity of their position had given Willa time to forget some of the horrors of the past and mend her shattered self-esteem. She had been able to pretend that she had never been anything but an ordinary domestic, lowly but industrious and virtuous. The return to Renard Chase, where everyone from the earl himself down to the meanest scullery maid knew her history, put an end to that happy obscurity, and only Willa’s deep love and profound obligation to Jessica had induced her to come with them. When Jessica, sensing Willa’s reluctance, had offered her independence by sharing her small savings with her, Willa had refused, saying with a bleak smile, “No, Miss Jess. How can I leave you and the little one alone in that great house when you don’t even know enough to keep your feet warm and dry…?”
    “Come, Willa,” Jessica said quietly, when she saw the maid hesitate. “It’s time for Lottie to meet her aunt Claire.”
    “ ‘Aunt Claire,’ ” Claire echoed with pleasure as Jessica took her sleeping daughter into her arms and gently pulled back the blanket from her face. “I like the sound of that.” She glanced impishly at her brother, her brown velvet eyes outlining his powerful body. “I think I shall enjoy hearing you called Uncle. It will make a welcome change from all this ‘my