Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

J acob stood in the foyer under his portrait as the footman finished hanging it.

Christian would be at tutoring for the rest of the afternoon, giving Jacob a rest. Who knew playtime could be so exhausting? A pony had been delivered the first day, and he'd taught Christian how to ride. They'd raced boats in the creek, played blind man's bluff with his aunt and the staff, and held every sort of competition he could think of, including who could fall asleep the fastest.

Jacob had won that one.

He stood back, admiring the artwork, and couldn't help but chuckle at the mischievous eyes and hint of a cheeky smile that would meet all newcomers as they entered. The likeness impressed him, but he thought of the artist every time he passed the portrait. Also when he woke, spoke, or moved. He'd see a unique color and wonder what name Emily would call it. He'd think of a witty remark and ponder what clever comeback she'd fire back. Christian would need a mother's touch, and he'd wonder how Emily would handle the situation.

He was sad the painting sessions were finished. Emily hadn't been by since she'd dropped off Christian.

Was she too busy preparing for her wedding to Mathis?

His heart clenched. He should have run after her, begged her to marry him instead.

Now it was too late.

He glanced at Maslow and clapped his shoulder. "Wait until my brother sees this."

The carriage wheels crunched over the rocks in the drive, turning Jacob's attention to the window.

Had Lieutenant Scar received his missive regarding Mr. Welsh? Had he come to search for clues as to the woman's identity?

Jacob had scoured the steward's residence and the man's office inside Brownstone Hall. In order to not interfere with his time with his son, he did his sleuthing in the evenings after Christian had fallen asleep, but searching by candlelight wasn't ideal. All he'd discovered was an unfinished love letter in which Welsh poured out his devotion to his dearest beloved. Apparently, their thieving had paid down her debts significantly. They'd planned for two more heists to obtain the funds to travel to Italy, where they would purchase a villa.

Things hadn't gone as they'd intended.

"Were you expecting company?" Maslow shuffled to the door.

Jacob pulled back the curtain and snorted at the gold crest on the carriage. It wasn't Lieutenant Scar. "Indeed. Eventually." He straightened, letting the curtain drop. "My portrait was hung just in time." He rubbed his palms, eager for what was about to happen. "Inform my aunt that her second-favorite nephew has arrived. Also, tell the housekeeper to prepare a room and have tea and scones prepared for the duke and duchess."

Maslow bowed and hailed the housekeeper, moving faster than Jacob had ever witnessed the butler go.

Jacob glanced up at the high-hung portrait and assumed a similar position beneath it.

Maslow returned and swung the door wide, standing erect with chest puffed out and chin high. "Welcome, Lord and Lady Sudbury, to Brownstone Hall."

Through the open door, Jacob watched Robert survey the exterior fa?ade's changes before escorting his wife, Nora, through the front entrance and into the foyer, still inspecting his surroundings.

Aunt Louisa peeked around the upstairs corner.

Jacob caught her out of the corner of his eye and waved her down. She'd had some setbacks since learning she'd sheltered a highwayman and hesitated before moving to the stairs and grasping the railing. Thankfully, Christian was a good influence on her, and she'd already started to rebound.

Nora smiled at Jacob and extended her hands to greet him. Her gaze rose to the portrait above, and she drew up short.

Her sudden stop drew Robert's attention to her face. Nora clasped a hand over her mouth, but an unladylike giggle escaped.

With a questioning look, Robert followed her gaze.

"Truly?" He shook his head, but his lips twitched as he struggled to contain a grin. "I can't leave you unsupervised for a single moment."

W hile Nora and Aunt Louisa had tea, Jacob walked Robert around Brownstone Hall, explaining the prior condition, what renovations he'd completed, and what remained to be finished.

"The place is coming along quite nicely. I wasn't sure you had it in you, but you've proved me wrong."

Jacob hadn't known that he had it in him either, which made his brother's praise all the more enjoyable.

As they walked the perimeter of the property, heading back to the main hall, his brother flashed him another askance look—the third one in the past ten minutes.

Jacob stopped and propped fisted hands on his hips. "What? Do you not approve of the stable's renovations?"

"The stable is coming along famously." Robert resumed their walk at a slower pace. "It's nothing." He waved his hand. "Merely that you've changed. There's a peace about you—a contentment. I wouldn't have thought you'd be taken with the rural countryside."

Jacob snorted. "Sylvanwood is lovely, but it's what resides in the country that makes me look forward to each day."

"Let me guess. The women?"

"Not this time. Well, one, yes." Emily's warm amber eyes teasing him over his fainting spell floated through his memory. He imagined her waiting for him and Christian on the back portico as they returned from a ride.

But Mathis nudged his way into the picture, sliding a proprietary arm around her.

The heavy grief of what could have been weighed Jacob's body and soul. "I fear I lost my chance to claim her." He clasped his hands behind his back to hide the slump of his shoulders.

Robert drew up short. "Marriage? That's the first time I've heard you consider the institution. She must be special to break through the fortifications you've built around your heart."

"She's good and pure—a vicar's daughter who thinks a redeemed rake isn't the wise choice for a husband."

"Then the vicar's daughter doesn't know her Bible."

"What do you mean?"

"Moses killed an Egyptian. Abraham lied. Noah got drunk. Saul persecuted Christians. David had an affair and sent the woman's husband to die. Seems to me God uses imperfect people to accomplish His will."

Huh. Aint Louisa had said something similar. All those Bible heroes had made mistakes, some worse than Jacob's. He could be used by God.

"But you said a woman wasn't why you look forward to each day." Robert started strolling again.

Jacob fell into step with his brother. "I found him."

Robert's gaze snapped to Jacob's face. "Your son?"

He nodded. "His name's Christian Thompson."

"You did it." Robert clapped his brother on the shoulder. "When do we get to meet him?"

Jacob flipped open his pocket watch. "He'll be returning from his tutoring any moment. You're going to love him. He's just like me."

"Lord help us. I can barely handle one of you." The teasing twinkle in Robert's gaze showed he was excited to meet his nephew. "I'm an uncle."

Jacob stepped onto the terrace, and a footman opened the French doors. "Master Christian has returned, milord."

"Splendid."

"He's with Lady Alton and Lady Sudbury in the back salon." The footman stepped aside for them to enter.

Jacob followed the excited chatter to the salon with Robert in tow.

"What, then, is twenty and four plus thirty and six?" Nora's voice posed the sum before he slipped into the room.

Christian faced the ladies, chest puffed, with his back to Jacob and Robert. "The answer is sixty."

"Very good." Lady Athol clapped her hands before peering at Jacob. "He's a bright boy."

"Indeed." Jacob nodded.

"Papa!" Christian spun. "I mean, Lord Warren." He hugged Jacob's legs.

Jacob's chest swelled at the reference, and he longed for his son to call him Papa , but not yet. Not when society would shun a child born out of wedlock. Robert hit Jacob with another askance look, which meant his brother had questions.

"Can we go riding?" Christian tugged on Jacob's pant leg. "I want to show Lady Sudbury how I can ride a pony."

"There will be plenty of time tomorrow." He patted Christian's back even though the lad's shoulders slumped. "You need to wash up before the evening meal, but first, I want to introduce you to my brother, Lord Robert Warren, the Marquis of Sudbury."

Christian straightened and folded his body into a stiff, low bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord."

"The pleasure is all mine, good sir." Robert bowed in return.

Jacob gestured to Nora. "And I see you've already met my sister-in-law, Lady Nora Warren, Marchioness of Sudbury."

"Not formally." Christian hop-stepped to stand in front of Nora and extended his palm. She placed her gloved hand in his, and he bowed low over her knuckles. "A pleasure to meet you, my lady." He righted. "I always thought my sister, Em, was the most beautiful woman in the world, but you are quite lovely too."

Robert nudged Jacob with his elbow and said in a low voice, "He's definitely your son."

"Show the marquis how smart you are," Aunt Louisa said. "Sum fifty and two plus thirty and six."

Christian scrunched up his lips and peered at the ceiling. "Eighty-eight."

While the ladies continued to challenge Christian, Robert leaned close to Jacob's ear. "What are you going to do about him?"

"I'm still waiting on God's direction."

He received another side glance from his brother at the mention of God, but if Robert thought his finding religion odd, he didn't mention it.

"If you bring him back to London as your son, he'll be shunned by the Quality." Although his words were a warning, his tone held a note of sadness as though wishing it weren't so.

"I plan to stay here. Take up employment as Aunt Louisa's steward."

"You'd leave your life in the city?"

Jacob gazed at his son. "My life is here now."

Nora rose and moved to her husband's side, smiling at Christian. She placed a hand on her stomach. "I said I hoped for a girl, but I've changed my mind. I want a boy."

It was Jacob's turn to flash his brother a questioning side glance.

Robert drew his wife closer, and she peered at him with a look of love that elicited a deep ache from Jacob's heart. Would Emily ever look at him the same way?

"God knows what we want but also what we need." Robert pressed a gentle kiss on Nora's temple. "We'll be blessed by whichever He gives us."

E mily tugged at an errant string on the puffed sleeve of her gown but quit before damaging the stitch. As of late, her emotions were so tightly wound, she was afraid if she pulled the wrong string, her entire life might unravel.

Mr. Mathis placed a hand on her lower back and ushered her into the Hinwick Manor ballroom. The air warmed as townsfolk filed into a receiving line that formed along the edge of the ballroom to greet their hosts, Lord and Lady Dorsham and Phoebe for her send-off party. All the chairs had been pushed back or taken elsewhere to clear the floor for dancing. A five-musician orchestra sat on the far side of the room, playing a soft melody to allow for conversation before the dancing began.

Samuel would join the party later. He had been summoned to pray over a parishioner's ailing grandmother.

Mama and Papa stood before her and Mr. Mathis in line. Mr. Mathis had insisted he escort her to the party even though she'd asked for more time to pray about his offer of marriage. He'd remained quiet the whole carriage ride, and when Emily tried to converse, he kept his responses curt, pouting because she hadn't enthusiastically accepted his offer.

Emily took in the home where they'd spent much of their childhood. The high-ceilinged ballroom didn't appear as expansive as it had when she and Phoebe used to play pretend ball and dance around. If anyone inspected the oriental vase in the corner, they'd discover a fine crack where she and Phoebe had bumped into the pedestal and broken the vase. Phoebe had convinced a maid to glue it back together and swear she'd never tell Lady Dorsham.

Mr. Mathis peered up at the chandelier, and for the first time that evening, the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. "Remember when Phoebe dared us to jump from the orchestra balcony to the chandelier and then land on the sofa below?"

"I remember none of us thought the challenge a good idea, so Phoebe decided to prove us wrong." Emily shook her head. "I couldn't watch. I still can't believe she made it to the chandelier."

"Only to dangle there because she was too frightened to let go." He snorted.

Emily chuckled. "Samuel and I rushed to get a blanket to hold and break her fall, but her grip gave way, and you caught her before we could get there."

"And thank heaven because with the chandelier swinging, she would have missed the sofa and hit the floor."

"She was never afraid to go after what she wanted." Emily's gaze drifted to Phoebe, looking lovely in her best gown. "This is Phoebe's big night, and I want it to be special for her."

"Indeed." His smile fell. "These events remind me of a horse show, where the owners, in this case the parents, show off their filly." He stiffened. "I'm here to protect Phoebe from the rakehells who prey on innocents."

Emily frowned. Specifically Phoebe?

He glanced down at her. "Er—and you, too, of course."

Did he say that because of the rumors regarding Jacob? Or had gossip spread about Phoebe's condition? Was he being surly because he didn't like that Phoebe was moving on without them?

Or, all this time, had Emily been oblivious to Mr. Mathis's feelings toward their mutual friend?

The couple in front of them in the reception line swept away toward the refreshment table.

"Welcome, Reverend and Mrs. Thompson." Lord Dorsham smiled at Emily's parents. "So happy you could join us for Phoebe's send-off. Mr. Mathis and Miss Thompson too. Phoebe, I'm sure, is delighted you're here. Aren't you, dear?" He elbowed his daughter.

Phoebe's smile wobbled. "Indeed. Thank you for coming."

"I came by twice to see how you were faring after the robbery," Emily said, "but you weren't at home. I do hope you're all right."

"I'm fine." Phoebe refused to look at Emily. Her face was paler than normal. Phoebe would normally be basking in the attention afforded her by a ball in her honor. Was she still shaken from the robbery last weekend? Phoebe extended a warm hand and graceful curtsy to Mr. Mathis. "Please help yourself to some refreshments. The dancing should start shortly."

Was she still feeling betrayed after finding Emily and Jacob standing so close? Emily never meant for any of this to happen.

Emily touched her friend's sleeve. "We need to talk."

"Excuse me one moment." She turned green. "I need to freshen up." Her friend turned in a swirl of skirts and scurried in the direction of the retiring rooms.

"Oh, dear." Lady Dorsham watched her dart off with a frown. "I fear she's a bit under the weather tonight. All the strain over planning the ball must have been too much for her."

Emily gripped Mr. Mathis's sleeve. "I should go check on her."

He clasped a hand over hers to keep her at his side. "No need. She'll be back soon. Nothing could keep Miss Dorsham from missing her own party."

Emily didn't miss the look of concern that passed over Mr. Mathis's face. He guided her along the perimeter of the dance floor, following her parents, who stopped to speak to the Danfords.

Mr. Mathis excused himself, murmuring about needing to speak with the magistrate, and left her with her parents.

"Good to see you, Mr. Danford." Papa clapped the lanky, bearded man on the shoulder. "How's young William coming along with picking up his new trade as a colorist?"

"He's taken to it like a natural. Truly enjoys his work."

Emily tracked Mr. Mathis. He paused by the magistrate who was deep in conversation with another guest, but then her escort turned and slipped out a side door into the hallway. Where was he going?

"My daughter, Emily, will be a frequent customer of his shop when she's in London painting for the academy."

What? Emily returned her focus to the conversation. She must break it to Papa that she wouldn't ever be going to London.

Mr. Danford's gaze flicked to Emily. He scratched his beard with one finger and ran it along the inside of his collar.

Emily swallowed a sense of unease.

Mr. Danford's ears reddened, and he blurted out a change in topic. "So I heard the parish wants a new organ?"

Emily sidestepped to her mother. Why was Mr. Danford looking at her as if she carried the plague?

"I'm so grateful no one was hurt. Jewels can be replaced, but people cannot." Mama smiled at Mrs. Wilcox, the baker's wife.

"But that necklace cost more than the price my apple dumplings brought in this year." Mrs. Wilcox clicked her tongue.

"Did you get to eat one?" Mama asked Emily.

She shook her head. "Sadly, no. Samuel devoured them all. He raves over them."

Mrs. Wilcox's face drained its color. "How kind." Her eyes darted left and right before she excused herself, murmuring that she hadn't seen Mrs. Archer in an age, even though Emily knew they'd sat next to each other in the pew this past Sunday.

The hairs on Emily's neck prickled. Something's wrong .

Her parents settled into conversation with the barnstable and his wife.

Emily stood off to the side. Guests milled around, taking turns about the room or sipping lemonade. A group of women whispered behind fans to each other, a couple glancing in her direction.

Emily peered left and right, but no one besides her stood in the corner. Were they whispering about her?

The dancing commenced, and Phoebe returned to partner with John Wesley Thurgood, who had been considered Sylvanwood's most eligible bachelor and best catch before Jacob arrived.

Emily searched the room for Mr. Mathis, who usually asked Emily for the first dance, but he was nowhere to be found. No matter. She'd sit this one out.

Preston White, a gentleman farmer, often led her out for the second dance. Although Mr. White's lack of rhythm left her toes bruised, he was a sweet young man with a shy demeanor, and Emily enjoyed any opportunity to dance.

An image of Jacob's jaunty smile flittered through her mind. He would be a superb dancer, but would he ask her to dance after their falling out? She wished she'd refused to help Phoebe. If only her birth family had truly been the Thompsons. If only Jacob's family would accept a country vicar's daughter for their son. If only her heart didn't crave to be in Jacob's arms.

Why couldn't she just settle for Mr. Mathis, as she'd always planned to do?

The orchestra played a catchy tune, and Emily's toe tapped the rhythm. The music inspired her. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine color in every note, exploding into artistic creations.

The first set ended, and the dancing couples reshuffled their partners. The merchant's son asked Phoebe to dance, and to Emily's surprise, Mr. White led Miss Cantor onto the floor.

Emily forced her chin up. Good for Mr. White. Miss Cantor would make an excellent match. She should feel blessed to witness young love in the making. Where was Mr. Mathis?

Loneliness swept over her, but she shook it off. She, Phoebe, Samuel, and Peter had always stuck together at these events, but they were growing older and apart. Phoebe would attend the London Season and marry the first gentleman who fancied her. Samuel had shown interest in Miss Beatrice Michaels. Mr. Mathis…he deserved better than a loveless marriage. And if this evening were any indicator, she'd be painting.

The air in the room suddenly felt charged with electricity. She sensed Jacob's presence even before the husky tone of his voice sounded in her ear. "Tell me you haven't agreed to Mathis's offer of marriage yet." His voice was a whisper, a breath in her hair. "I spoke with your parents, but I need to hear it from you."

She turned and looked up at him. "A wise man informed me I was so fearful of sinning that I refused to feel. He scoffed at me marrying someone I didn't love."

Hope flickered in his eyes.

"God showed me through that man that I was refusing to love because I thought punishing myself would atone for the sins of my parents." She fought to not hang her head.

His gaze softened. "And?"

"I'd believed I was tainted, stained, and ugly. I figured if I could live a sinless life, and if I created beauty through my paintings, I could cover my stain through works."

"What did God say?"

She inhaled until her chest swelled. "Redemption is a gift, but I have to open it, not try to recreate it."

"Dance with me."

His words jolted through her being. It wasn't so much a question as a statement, and he didn't allow her the opportunity to decline, for he gripped her hand and gently pulled her onto the dance floor.

"You've forgiven me?"

He chuckled. "Who am I to withhold forgiveness after all that's been forgiven me?"

Couples lined up for the quadrille.

Jacob's fingers slid along her lower back. She'd attended over a dozen country dances, danced with a myriad of men, yet his touch felt intimate. The warmth of his hand spread through her body, igniting a tingle of excitement. He stared at her with a possessive indulgence that quickened her pulse.

"Christian fared well?" she asked as he led her into a turn.

"Better than I. He's a ball of energy."

Emily laughed but quickly subdued it. People would notice. They would wonder about his boldness and her outrageous outburst. She should care and avert her eyes. But the room faded along with their pasts. She wasn't doing anything wrong by dancing with Jacob. Many other women in the assembly hall would do the same, but he'd chosen her first.

No one else could claim that tonight. A little thrill lifted the hairs on her arms.

Jacob's timing and footwork were excellent, as she had known they would be. Only this moment mattered, not his reputation or her parentage. She'd enjoy the freedom of this dance. It was a gift from God, one of the rare moments she could let her guard down and enjoy herself.

His gaze remained steadfast upon her as they danced the figure, even during the partner exchange. Emily soaked it in like a flower, raising its head to the sun.

They stepped aside to afford the other couples their opportunity. She found herself unable to contain the bubbling spring inside her. Fiddle on what others thought of her grinning like a fiend.

"You look radiant tonight."

A wave of heat washed over her, and it wasn't due to the dancing.

"Although, I'm used to seeing you with more color."

She raised a questioning brow.

He raised a finger. "Indeed, I'm used to a smudge of color here." He brushed a knuckle down her cheek. "And a dab of color here." He ran his thumb across her chin.

She grabbed his hand and held it in proper dance form, hoping the others didn't notice his intimate touch. He always pushed propriety to the line. "The world looks better in color, and so do I."

The humor in his blue eyes sobered. "You give the world color."

Her heart exploded into a thousand sparkling embers. She longed to melt into his embrace, to feed off his confidence. She wanted to believe they could be together.

He led her into the next figure. Dazed, she allowed him to usher her through the movements, though her feet hardly touched the floor. The music ended, and he whirled her back into place, where they bowed to the other couples.

He guided her back to her parents, but his long strides slowed significantly. She also didn't want their time to end.

A murmur sounded amongst the guests, and all eyes shifted to face the entrance. Emily craned her neck to glimpse what was causing the stir.

And then Jacob said, "There is someone I'd like you to meet."