Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

J acob fought to keep his expression neutral. The denial of Sarah's pronouncement pressed against his teeth, demanding release, but Emily's voice rang in his memory. Phoebe is a beautiful woman of means and quality, a woman of whom society and your family would approve. A man would be lucky to have such a passionate woman by his side.

Sarah studied his face as if feeding off his pain.

His heart writhed in his chest, but he shrugged and stalked past her. "Don't worry about me. Since I met you, I assume all women are trouble."

Jacob stepped aside as the French doors opened and another couple exited. He held the door and re-entered the stuffy room.

Scar locked gazes with him with questions abounding, the guests' laughter stung Jacob's ears, and the swirling dancers left him sick to his stomach.

Miss Dorsham appeared the same as he felt, for she pressed a hand over her mouth and dashed toward the ladies' retiring rooms.

He sought solace in the opposite direction, ducking into the men's cardroom.

The thick smoke of cheroots muddied the air. An open seat at a high-stakes table called to him, but a warning sounded in his head. He didn't want to return to his old ways. Would he get another chance at redemption if he blew this one? He wanted to believe what Emily said, that he could become a new person. But if she'd deceived him, who could be trusted?

A curse split the air, and Sarah's husband tossed his cards on the table as Lord Dorsham scooped all the chips. The Duke of Charlton had lost big.

Jacob couldn't remember the duke winning much, but he gambled frequently. If Jacob's mood had been better, he would have found irony in Sarah choosing him for his money. If he kept gambling at this rate, he'd land them both in the poorhouse.

Jacob exited and strode down the hall to the men's retiring room, pushing the door open a little too hard. It bounced off the wall and startled the room's only occupant.

Lord Benton tipped back the rest of his drink and set the glass down next to a half-empty bottle of scotch. He rose on unsteady feet.

Blast.

Jacob berated himself for forgetting protocol to scout an area first. He checked the small pistol stashed in his pocket, aiming it at Benton in case he tried shooting again.

"It's you." Benton's scathing voice spewed like venom. "You know what your problem is?"

Jacob had reached the limits of congeniality tonight. He laced his words with sarcasm. "I've longed to hear your take on it."

If Benton comprehended the mockery, he didn't show it. He wagged a finger at Jacob and sank back into the low-backed chair. "You just won't die."

Jacob snorted. The man was clearly foxed—but he wasn't wrong. And he had no intention of letting Benton win.

"I tossed you out a window and tried to put a bullet in your skull." His nose wrinkled in a snarl. "I even kicked you face down into a creek hoping you'd drown but, confound it, you survived. How?" He waved his hands. "Why?"

"God still has a plan for my life?" The sentence formed as a question, but hearing the words changed them into a statement in his heart. God did have a plan for him, and it didn't include becoming a wastrel or a pawn to be used by others. He had a purpose—to be a father to his son and teach him how to avoid the traps he'd fallen into.

"I despise you." Benton spit the words, and droplets of saliva sprayed the air with the scent of spirits. "But it's good you didn't die. That's what she would have wanted."

"Why?" Jacob furrowed his brow.

He chuckled, a hollow, bitter sound. "If I danced from the hangman's noose, she'd celebrate. I know my wife is a light skirt. The gall of that woman cuckolding me, making me out to be a fool. My valet explained why you'd been in her chamber." He shook his head. "Of all the men she's lured in her bed, who'd have thought you'd be the one with good intentions?" He refilled his glass with scotch and downed it in two gulps before refilling it again. "She's the mastermind. Lucile has no qualms. No morals. Got me all roped in and tangled up, and now I'll probably hang on the rope of her making."

Jacob struggled to make sense of the man's rant.

"At least I won't hold your death on my conscience." He pointed at him with his glass. "They do her bidding."

"Lady Benton's?" Had he missed her involvement in the jewel thieving ring?

"They adore her." Benton swallowed another gulp from his glass. "But not you. How are you immune to her wiles?"

Ah, the man was referring to his wife's lovers.

Benton didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he jabbed his index finger in Jacob's general direction. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

He thought of Sarah, how their relationship ended, and then Emily and her betrayal. "I believe in annoyed at first sight."

Benton snorted a laugh and saluted him with his glass. "Lucile's an odd combination of gentlewoman and a mad-as-a-hatter demon."

"You two are perfect for each other."

He scowled but then sobered. "I wish…" His head bobbed, and he blinked. "I wish I never laid eyes on her."

The door swung open, and a young dandy entered. "Pardon me, gents." He brushed past into another room to relieve himself.

Jacob caught the hallway door with his hand before it closed. "Well, Benton. I believe we've had a moment."

The man nodded but struggled to keep his eyes open.

"True bonding happens when you're angry over the same thing."

"I'll be beggared," Benton mumbled with his chin resting on his chest until the words drifted into snores.

"Good talk." Jacob slipped out of the room, hoping Miss Dorsham hadn't feigned a headache and decided to leave while he wasn't at his post.

" E m?"

Christian's whisper woke Emily from a restless sleep. She sat up in bed and lit a candle. "What's the matter?"

"I couldn't sleep." He tiptoed over and sat on the bed next to her. "I overheard Mama and Papa talking downstairs."

"You shouldn't be eavesdropping on adult conversations." Emily's reprimand held a mothering tone.

He peered up at her with innocent blue eyes. "Is Lord Warren my real father?"

Her breath caught.

Oh, no.

What should she say? He was too young to understand why his mother left him to be raised by another family.

"Please, Em." He crawled onto his knees and placed his hands on her cheeks. "I want to know the truth."

She swallowed and nodded. "He is your father by birth."

Christian blinked but remained still as if processing the information.

"But Papa and Mama love you. You are their son."

"I know." Christian nodded and dropped his hands back to his sides.

"And I love you. You are my brother, and I'd do anything for you."

"Is Lord Warren your real father too?"

"No." The word flew from her mouth, and Christian's brow wrinkled. "I mean, I was also adopted like you, but my parents live in London."

"Did they come to find you like Lord Warren found me?"

"No."

"Oh."

A mournful silence fell over the room.

"But Samuel wasn't adopted." Christian shifted so that his bare feet hung over the bedside again.

"Mama had Samuel during her first marriage, but Samuel's papa died when he was very young. In a way, we're all adopted."

Christian sighed. "Don't they deserve to have a real son?"

"They have two real sons." She patted his knee. "I don't think it matters to them whose blood runs in your veins. They love us just the same as they would their own children—with their whole hearts."

She allowed him the space to consider that.

"I like Lord Warren." Christian said after a moment. "I want to play with him more. Go to his house."

Her heart screamed. She didn't want to lose Christian.

"You could come with me." He released a wide yawn. "Lord Warren likes you too. Almost as much as he likes me."

Emily couldn't resist smiling at his innocent remark.

"If you married Lord Warren, we could live at Brownstone Hall together and visit Mama and Papa every day. Wouldn't that be grand?"

She pictured Christian bounding into the chamber, jumping on the bed, and waking her and Jacob. He'd scoop Christian up and tickle him until Christian begged him to stop. Then Jacob would lean over with his boyish smile and kiss her good morning.

Emily pushed the indecent thought away. "Life is complicated."

Christian jumped off the bed and turned to face her. "What's so complicated about it?"

Truly, what was?

Jacob had feelings for her, and she for him. She'd never have to worry about him taking Christian away if they were to marry. They could be a family.

"Hmm?" Christian stuck out his chin and raised both eyebrows.

"I don't know."

"All right." He gripped her hands. "Let's pray to God for it, then."

"Christian—"

"Heavenly Father. Please marry Lord Warren and Em so that we can be a family. Amen." He grinned and released her hands. "Good night, Em." He skipped to the door but paused with one hand on the knob. "One more thing." He folded his hands and bowed his head. "And Lord, I'd like a younger brother, too, please. Amen."

He disappeared down the hall, leaving Emily an all-too-clear picture of what her life could be.