Page 49 of Irresistible
Jess recalled what Mary had said that first night when she’d recited the lines. She’d said it was one of herfavorites. Jess wanted to groan with annoyance. It seemed she was not a very good spy.
Mary went on for a moment about one of the poems fromLyrical Ballads—the one about Tintern Abbey—while Jess thought about the other poem about the daffodils. She could recall a few other lines beyond what she’d recited the other night, but not the entire thing. When Mary finished, Jess asked if she had a copy of the daffodil poem.
“I’m sure I do, but I don’t know where. I have it memorized, so I don’t read it!” Mary laughed gaily, and Jess joined in even though she preferred to cry.
“Good afternoon, ladies!” Gil strode into the sitting room, his gaze settling on his wife with unadulterated love. It was really quite beautiful, and it was no wonder Mary had fallen for him. Jess had never seen such emotion before meeting the Chesmores, and for the first time thought it might be nice if someone looked at her that way. Alas, she had absolutely no expectation that would ever happen.
He smiled brightly at Jess as he squeezed down next to Mary on the end of the settee. “Ogelby found the English Voltaire. He’s taking it to your chamber.”
“I hope he’s quick about it,” Mary said. “We’re meeting with him and Mrs. Farr in an hour to review the final arrangements for the dinner party tonight.”
Gil snorted a laugh. “Poor Ogelby. We really ought to retire him, you know.”
Mary’s face creased with sympathy. “Yes, but he’s so fond of Prospero’s Retreat.”
“He did not like that we chose a new name,” Gil said with a great amount of drama. “He may decide that’s a sign of changing times.”
“He’s been here that long?” Jess asked, hoping she might collect more information about the Frenchman who’d owned the house before.
“Nearly all his adult life,” Gil replied. “He came here as a novice footman.”
“That’s a long time to be in one place. He survived new ownership in the recent past, so perhaps he’ll come around on the name,” Jess suggested.
Mary exchanged a look with Gil. “He does miss Monsieur Dumont, but it wasn’t as if he could follow him to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” Jess asked.
“A sad tale,” Gil said, clucking his tongue. “Poor Monsieur Dumont grew quite frail, especially in his mind. That is why he sold the property. He had no family to care for him either. I confess I felt rather bad for him when he left for Bath.”
“That is where he is?” Jess was eager to relay that information to Dougal.
“Last we heard.” Mary put her hand to her cheek. “What a maudlin topic! Let us focus on happier things. Jessamine, we are so pleased you and Dougal will be here for the party.”
“We’re delighted to be included. I wouldn’t have chosen to suffer an accident with the gig, but I’m glad we did.” Jess winked at them as she rose. “I’ll leave you to it.”
After departing the sitting room at a sedate pace, she hurried to the stairs and practically sprinted to their chamber. She encountered Ogelby closing the door.
He inclined his head at Jess. “Mrs. Smythe. Is there anything you require?”
“No, thank you. I understand you delivered a book.”
“I did, at Mr. Chesmore’s request.”
“I appreciate that.” She gave him a warm smile before entering the room and closing the door behind her. Her gaze went to the desk, where there were now two books—the useless Wordsworth and the Voltaire.
“Jess?”
She turned her head to see Dougal peeking from the dressing room. Only his face was visible. “Dougal. I just encountered Ogelby.”
“Yes, he delivered the Voltaire. I took the opportunity to query him about Monsieur Dumont.”
“Oh?” Jess pivoted toward the dressing chamber. “I was speaking to the Chesmores about him downstairs.”
“Let us compare notes,” he said with a smile. “Ogelby was fond of the man. He owned the house for a little more than twenty years. Before that, the family who built it were the owners—they also hired Ogelby.”
“As a novice footman, the Chesmores indicated,” Jess said.
“Yes. Did they tell you Dumont is in a hospital in Bath?”
