64. Chapter 64

Chapter 64

Jethro didn’t want the kiss to end. All he was aware of was the feel of Cassandra’s arms around his neck—her body pressed close against his chest—the sweet taste of her lips on his. It was as if they were cocooned in a moment of time, shielded from the stares of the servants that filled the entrance hall.

It was a blessed moment, but there were things that needed to be said. Things that weighed heavily upon him, that he could not, in good conscience, keep from his wife.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, and barking instructions to his staff to return to work, he led Cassandra into the drawing room.

Despite the shameful news he had to share, Jethro couldn’t suppress his smile. It was worth facing death if your wife kissed you like that when you came back from the dead.

He perched on a sofa, hoping he would not stain it irreparably with his sooty garments.

Cassandra sat down beside him, her eyes wide as they rested on his face.

“I still can’t believe you’re alive. Are you hurt? Should I send for the doctor?”

“I’m fine. My mouth is rather dry from the smoke, but other than that, I’m just tired and a little charred around the edges.”

“What a dreadful ordeal you’ve had! ”

He gave a bark of laughter and then wished he hadn’t, as it scratched his already sore throat. “I’ve had better days.” Or had he? It had improved beyond measure since his wife kissed him.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper, filled with such tenderness that he was tempted—oh, so tempted—to close the distance between them and press his lips to hers.

“Never do that to me again!”

The fierceness in her tone did nothing to lessen Jethro’s desire to kiss her. But before he could act on his longing, Mrs Timms interrupted them with the refreshments he’d ordered.

The timing was frustrating, but perhaps it was as well. Caught up in the wonder of being kissed by his wife, Jethro had almost forgotten the dark shadow over his head—the shameful circumstances of his birth. Cassandra might not be so glad he was alive when she learned the truth.

She poured herself a cup of tea and sipped at it, while Jethro drained his tankard of ale in long gulps, the cool liquid soothing on his parched throat.

“Rowson said they’d retrieved a body,” she said, her lip quivering in a way he found most endearing. “I thought it was you.”

“If it wasn’t for Crowley’s quick thinking, it would have been. I owe him my life. By some miracle, he heard me shouting and got a ladder to help me out a window at the back of the warehouse before the fire reached it.”

“But someone died. Who was it? One of your men?”

“Legg.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened. “The man your father employed to spy on us? What was he doing in your warehouse?”

Jethro winced when she used the word father, but there was no point disputing it. However much it rankled, he couldn’t deny he was Mr Wade’s son. It was as well Cassandra accepted his relationship with the man already, as it would make what he had to say easier.

He wrung his hands together in his lap. Now was the time to share the truth, but part of him revolted at the prospect. What would she think of him?

“Jethro, what is it? There’s something you’re not telling me. What happened after I left last night? Why didn’t you come home? I was waiting for you.”

“I felt too ashamed.”

“Why? ”

He paused, struggling to form the words. “There is no easy way to say this. My parents were never married. I’m Mr Wade’s natural son.”

Cassandra lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she stifled a gasp.

“I knew my mother came from humble beginnings, but she never told me anything about her life before she met my father. What I didn’t realise was that he had seduced her—when she was a chambermaid in his parents’ house.”

“So that’s why she was so angry with you for kissing a maid. I thought she was being overly severe, but it makes sense now.”

“Mr Wade abandoned her—us—so he could wed the wealthy bride of his father’s choice,” Jethro said, spitting out each word with the bitterness that festered inside him. “He chose money over love, and now—when his wife has failed to provide him with a child—he wants to acknowledge me as his son and make me his heir.”

Cassandra turned white under his gaze. “He wants to make it public knowledge you are his illegitimate son and leave you his wealth?”

Jethro nodded.

“How could he do that to you? Does he know you so little that he thinks you could be bought like that?”

A smug expression appeared on Jethro’s face—satisfaction mixed with relief at her reaction. “Not as well as my wife, it appears. Given your declaration, I assume it comes as no surprise to you that I declined the honour.”

“It is no more than I would expect of you.”

“You should have seen his expression when I refused his wealth, but—”

“Yes?”

“I’m ruined, Cassandra. We have a roof over our heads for now, but the warehouse was full of stock, and I won’t be able to settle my suppliers’ accounts. I’ve mortgaged the house to buy the ships and without my business, I’ve no way to make the repayments.”

“But surely it was insured?”

“Yes, but they might not pay up. What if Mr Wade hired Legg to set the warehouse on fire?”

“You cannot suppose your father would try to kill you!”

“No. I excuse him of that, but that he might seek to bend me to his will—force me to depend on him— that , I can believe.”

“That’s a serious allegation, Jethro.”

“I don’t think my father is used to being crossed.”

“Neither are you,” Cassandra said with a playful grin .

He wanted to refute her words, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. He did not care to have his wife drawing similarities between him and his father, though to judge by her smile, it did not appear to bother her.

Jethro gazed at Cassandra, wondering what she thought of it all. He had told her everything—except how he felt about her.

Why hadn’t he confessed his feelings to her before? To do so now, when he had nothing to offer her, would seem like an act of desperation.

And he was desperate. He would beg, if needed, to persuade her to stay.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For the shame of my birth, and for failing to provide for you as I promised. I don’t know how my business will ever recover—”

“Where is your faith, Mr Hunt? God has spared your life, so he must have plans for you. We will survive this setback—together.”

“Is that what you desire, Cassandra? To face it together? I understand it if you want a separation. I can’t expect you to share my shame, my loss, but—”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Jethro. I may have married you to provide a roof over my head, but I promised to love you for better or worse, for richer, for poorer—until death us do part, and that’s what I intend to do. It matters not a jot who your parents are, or how wealthy you are. I vowed to love you—and I do.”

She gazed into his eyes, a shy smile lurking on her lips. “I love you.”

Jethro’s mouth dropped open. She loved him. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but he seemed to have lost all ability to form words.

It was too wonderful. He didn’t deserve it. He was shaken—humbled—that now, when he had nothing left to give her, she declared her love for him.

Her bottom lip quivered as he continued to stare in wonder, behaving like a moonstruck youth. He thought she’d never looked more beautiful—her eyes glowing, her hair escaping from its pins and falling over her shoulders, and a rosy glow on her soot-smudged cheeks.

His heart was so full of love for Cassandra that he was unsure where to start. He’d never tried to put his feelings into words before.

“I don’t know what to say—”

Jethro broke off as the butler entered the room, but not before he’d noticed the glow in Cassandra’s eyes fade. Bother. He was making a mess of it again.

“What is it, Rowson?”

“Mr Wade has called and is most eager to see you.”

Jethro scowled. The interruption could not be worse timed. “Not today.” Not any day. He never wanted to face Mr Wade again.

Rowson bowed and withdrew to convey his message.

Jethro turned back to his wife, to continue what he was saying, but her brow was furrowed with disapproval.

“Won’t you even see your father?”

“No! We’re talking about the man who ruined my mother.”

“He’s also been supporting you your whole life.”

“Wait—you don’t think I should let him help me, do you?”

Cassandra tilted her head to one side. “No—and yes. You’ve refused Mr Wade’s assistance once, and I understand all the reasons you did so, but I wish you’d grant him a chance. Papa failed to provide for me, and it tortured his last hours. Your refusal of your father’s help will have hurt his pride—as much as accepting his help would injure yours. It is so much easier to give than to receive.”

Her words pricked his conscience. “Are you suggesting it’s my wretched pride that is stopping me from receiving his assistance? Have you forgotten the shame it would bring on you and Mr Wade’s wife if he acknowledged me as his son?”

“I have not forgotten, but I think the person who would be most hurt by Mr Wade making your relationship public is you.”

Jethro considered her words. Was she right? That it was his pride that was hurt by acknowledging he was born out of wedlock. His pride that was dented by admitting he couldn’t manage without Mr Wade’s help.

A commotion in the hall interrupted them and Mr Wade burst into the room, followed by an apologetic butler.

“I’m sorry, sir. I told him you weren’t at home to visitors, but he refused to leave and pushed right past me—”

Jethro glanced at Cassandra, who nodded encouragingly. “Not to worry, Rowson. I’ll take it from here.”

The butler withdrew, shutting the door behind him.

Jethro took a deep breath, rose from his chair and with a great effort of will, he offered his hand. “Good morning, Father.”

Mr Wade gaped at Jethro’s outstretched hand for a long moment before grasping it in his own and shaking it repeatedly, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Jethro invited his father to sit and resumed his seat next to Cassandra on the sofa .

“I’m so relieved to see you in one piece,” Mr Wade said. “When I heard what happened…that your warehouse had burned down…that someone had died, I was so afraid…”

The man sounded distraught, but Jethro had to be sure.

“Did you try to force my hand? I don’t take you for a man who gives up easily, and I put your nose seriously out of joint by declining what you offered me. What better way to make me dependent on you than by destroying my business? It was your employee, Legg, who set my warehouse on fire—a crime he paid for with his life.”

“How dare you try to lay the blame on me?” Mr Wade growled, half-rising from his chair.

“Hmm. Your indignation is so great I almost believe you.”

“Legg was no longer in my employ. I met with him after you left last night. The rascal made no apology for meeting with the Framptons, nor for exceeding the limits of what I’d asked him to do by trying to ferret out stories to discredit you. He seemed to think he was doing me a favour and thought himself indispensable.

“I soon put him right on that and dismissed him on the spot. He swore I’d regret it, but I never imagined he would go this far. What greater revenge could he have had on me than by taking away my only son? His behaviour was despicable. He brought his premature end on himself.”

“That tone of disdain I can’t doubt,” Jethro said, expelling a long huff of air. “I believe you.”

“Thank heavens for that,” Mr Wade said, sitting back down. “What must you think of me to imagine I would stoop so low as that?”

“I think you are a man who likes to have his own way”—Mr Wade opened his mouth to object—“as do I.”

His father grunted in a fashion that Jethro was forced to admit sounded just like him. Cassandra must have thought so too, as it brought an amused look to her face. It was only a small thing, but it made Jethro wonder if, perhaps, he was more like his father than he had supposed.

“Now you’re satisfied I meant you no harm, will you let me help you get your business back on its feet?” Mr Wade asked.

“That depends.”

His father’s eyes glimmered with hope. “On what?”

Jethro gave a lopsided smile. “A man after my own heart—straight to the point.”

His father gave a satisfied huff, and Jethro continued.

“I don’t want my wife to be hurt. For that reason, I don’t want people to know I’m your son. ”

Mr Wade sat for what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a minute or two, staring at the floor.

“It’s not what I wish, but I respect your choice. I would value the chance to get to know you both better. Please let me help you—as your investor and business partner.”

Jethro exchanged a glance with Cassandra before turning back to his father.

“Very well. We accept. On that basis, you are welcome in our home. I can’t promise to love you as a son should love his father, but I vow to try.”

Jethro rose and shook hands with Mr Wade, who took his leave in a much happier mood than when he’d arrived.

“Get some rest, my boy, and we’ll talk again tomorrow. Good day, Mrs Hunt.”

At last they were alone, and they could finish the very interesting conversation they’d been having when they were interrupted.

“Cassandra, I’d like to talk about what you said. I—”

“Not now, Jethro. Your father’s right. You should rest. We’ll talk later.”

And with that, she hurried out of the room.

Why didn’t she want to discuss her feelings? Unless…

What a fool he was. She must think her declaration of love was unwelcome.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

Jethro sped after his wife. He couldn’t wait for later to come.

He needed to talk to Cassandra right now.