Chapter Ten

Jack wasn't sure there was a word for how he felt in that moment. He had no right to Meredith, had never thought to claim her, but he couldn't help but feel as if she was already his. To see her in the arms of another man, even in a very public and appropriate place such as this, he was suddenly a man possessed.

It shouldn't have surprised him. He had thought of little else in his private time except for her. Their conversations, their kisses. Jack had kissed hundreds of women in his lifetime and yet he had never felt the slow burn that lingered deep in his veins after he left her in the stables, speechless in the dark. He had understood his need to be out of her presence after it happened. Jack had hoped to avoid her indefinitely, to try and dilute the confusing feelings he had suddenly begun to feel, but a few encouraging words were all it took for him to find himself racing towards Dragmoor to be with her.

He sensed people staring at him the moment he entered into the foyer upon his arrival. It was inevitable. He had pushed his way through the manor, reaching the ballroom as his name began to be murmured around him, but Jack couldn't summon up a reason to care the moment his eyes landed on her.

Meredith was smiling at her dance partner and Jack felt murderous. But what would it mean for her if he approached her with so many watching him? Would she be offended? Would the others feel sorry for her that the Beast of Burnwall would advance on her during a ball?

Jack wasn't one to feel sorry for himself, but then he hardly wished to cause her shame. Still, she was breathtakingly beautiful, dressed in a wide neck gown that revealed too much of her and not enough. He soaked up the sight of her as she moved gracefully across the dance floor.

Jack didn't want to leave and yet he wouldn't stay simply to gawk at her. For a fleeting moment, she seemed distracted and searched in his direction. Allowing their eyes to meet for only the briefest of moments, Jack turned without a backward glance as he cut through the sea of people. Some gasped as they passed, while others saw Jack coming and quickly hid their mouths to whisper words Jack had heard too many times before.

By the time he reached the far end of the ballroom, where the tall glass doors opened up onto the balcony, he was met by Simon, who must have seen him from across the room. Luckily, it was still early, and no one had come out to cool off in the night air.

"Jack, I didn't expect to see you here."

"I was invited, wasn't I?" Jack snapped, his bad mood flaring.

His brother stared at him.

"You were," Simon said cautiously. "I'm just surprised, given how you dislike gatherings this size. Actually, I think this might be the largest event you've ever been to."

"In polite society, you mean," Jack said, feeling agitated.

Simon gave him a strange look.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you here? I thought you didn't want to come."

"I changed my mind."

"Why?"

"What the bloody hell does it matter? I'm here."

Simon seemed confused by Jack's disgruntled behavior. But then, he shrugged, trying to change the topic.

"Well, I daresay you'll have an entertaining time here. I know quite a few guests will be surprised at your attendance. MacDougall is in attendance and—"

"I'm not interested in MacDougall," Jack said.

There was a heavy pause between the two brothers.

"Jack. Why are you here?"

He swallowed, unsure if he even wanted to breach the topic with Simon. He had come simply because he wanted to see Meredith and yet to admit it was too much.

He shook his head, as if he could remove his brother's curious stare at him.

"I wanted to attempt to know Mountebank," he lied.

Simon arched one brow, obviously unbelieving.

"Is that so?"

"It is."

When neither brother spoke, Simon sighed and shrugged.

"Very well. Keep your secrets. I should return to Sarah," Simon said as he returned to the ballroom.

Jack felt like an ass. What was he doing here? What did he expect to accomplish? Meredith wasn't going to be led blindly into anything she didn't want and yet he had been worried. But worried about what? That she might pick a gentleman? That they would get married and she would move away and she would never watch him with that curious stare ever again?

Now his frustrations seemed to dissolve into something worse. Self-pity. He twisted back toward the ballroom, and slowly began to move around the edges of the dance floor, contemplating what he should do next. He always had a second or third step planned before taking his first and yet he hadn't thought through what he wanted to accomplish once he arrived at Dragmoor. All he wanted was to get here. And now?

He gazed up to see Meredith again, twirling and smiling as she danced with a different gentleman from before. What was wrong with him? He had always been so sure, so unwaveringly confident in everything he ever did and yet he was acting dilettantish. All he wanted was to stop being so confused.

As the music began to wane, Jack found himself walking forward. Dozens of warnings were battling for his attention in his head and he knew each one of them were sane, rational ideas that would protect him from ridicule and whispers. But his body had a mind of its own and the closer he got to Meredith, the closer he felt to his old, confident self.

Meredith hadn't realized his approach until he was next to her and when she did, her mouth dropped open as her eyes met his. He opened his mouth to speak, but then she smiled so widely and welcoming that his words stuck in his throat for a moment. She was dazzling.

"Jack," she said softly as she offered her hand to him. "I thought I saw you."

He quickly took her fingers and for the first time in days, he smiled.

"May I have the next dance?"

"Excuse me, sir, but the lady is promised—"

"Yes," she said as she let him pull her away from her previous partner.

Though Jack hadn't been expecting to dance, he had asked her, if only to be near her, and while he wasn't accomplished, he was sufficient. He leaned down towards her as they stood before each other, waiting for the music to begin.

"What are you doing here?" Meredith asked, still smiling.

"I came because I thought it would be beneficial for Simon," he said smoothly. "I've not given the duke a fair shake."

Her eyes seemed to sparkle and he tried to ignore it.

"I thought you didn't dance?"

"I don't," he said, as his hands came up to hers. "Unless I want to."

Her smile deepened as the music sounded. A waltz began to play as the two joined together. Jack knew they were being watched, but it hardly seemed to matter now that he was close to her. Her smile seemed to shield him from all the tribulations he felt upon his arrival to Dragmoor.

"I'm glad you came," she said quietly as she glanced around them. Her smile faltered. "Oh, dear. We seem to be quite popular."

Guilt hit him in the chest.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "It happens when I go into nice places."

She looked back at him and for a moment she appeared confused before her eyes dropped to his scar.

"Oh," she said.

They moved together in sync as the sweet song played and Jack wondered if she regretted dancing with him.

"You know, it's rather arrogant of you to assume such a thing," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"Hardly gentlemanly of you to suppose that your appearance is more prominent than the lady you're dancing with," she said, her tone distinctively playful. Was she jesting with him? "Unless you think I'm not something to gaze at."

"I didn't say that. On the contrary, you're one of the most beautiful creatures in this room."

Meredith's cheeks went red.

"That's not fair," she said breathlessly as they moved. "I was only teasing you. You needn't flatter me. It's not sporting."

"I'm not flattering you," he said. "It's the truth."

His voice was low and honest and his words had the most brilliant effect on Meredith, because for the rest of the dance, she smiled at him, seemingly unable to stop herself.

She was beautiful, inside and out, and Jack barely had the good manners to let go of her when their dance ended. All he wanted to do was pull her away with him, to some dark corner of the manse and kiss her, consume her with all his senses.

Meredith was the kind of woman that Jack had never really expected to exist. There was a humility about her that touched him and while she was a little tight-laced, it wasn't because she was prejudiced to others. If anything, it was because she was overly cautious and protective of herself.

Because she had been hurt once.

It was odd how much it bothered him to learn her secrets. She hadn't told him much the last time they were in each other's company, but damn if he didn't want to know everything that had ever happened to her.

They were approached by the same gentleman Jack had first seen holding her and while his instinct told him to gnash his teeth and pummel the man, he forcibly decided to remove himself from the room to stop himself from making a scene. He bowed slightly at them both, aware that the gentleman didn't seem too concerned with Jack.

"Thank you for the dance, Mr. Archer," Meredith said as she was gently pulled back onto the dance floor.

He nodded, not trusting his own words as he moved away. Uncomfortable with the looks he was receiving from the guests in the ballroom, he decided to go to the billiards room, in hopes of sequestering himself from inquisitive eyes. He had forgotten that his scarred face was unsettling to most, but then, being in Meredith's company often did that to him. She had made him forget the one thing he was constantly aware of, if only due to people's reactions.

Unaware of the direction he was meant to go, Jack moved through the foyer and then a gallery before ending up in a long hallway with what seemed to be a dozen doors. Seemed rather foolish to have so many rooms, Jack thought as he opened and shut each door, searching for the billiards room. One door in particular opened up into an elegant sitting room that had been styled almost completely in gold decor. If ever there was a room that signified the vast difference between the upper and lower classes, this was it.

Jack frowned at the excessive design, noting that this room was not too unlike Lottie LaMont's bedchamber. He glanced around and was about to retreat when a feminine yelp caught his attention. Tucked away in the corner of the room stood two people, a blond-haired man, and a raven-haired woman, locked in a telling embrace. From the sight of it, she was nearly halfway undressed.

"Excuse me!" the woman shrieked.

"Beg pardon," Jack said as he dipped his head and quickly backed out of the room.

He slammed the door shut. Damn peers. Didn't they have the decency to wait until after the party? Jack had no issue with an impromptu rendezvous, but he doubted those two were meant to be together, having snuck off in the very beginning of the night. No doubt it was some peer's wife, cuckolding her husband with some other peer.

The hypocrisy of it all made him sick.

Annoyed, he continued to stalk through the house. When he finally found the billiards room, he asked a servant for a glass of scotch and was promptly delivered one. He took a long sip as he sat to watch the match that had called most of the gentlemen's attention in the room.

Evidently, there were too many men in attendance which had led to a sporting competition of billiards. After a lengthy match, an older, red headed man won, and was instantly challenged by a handful of younger blokes, eager for a chance to beat him.

Jack watched with mild interest. He was trying to push all thoughts of Meredith from his mind when he overheard her name.

"Miss Taylor is a fine enough woman," someone one saying behind him, "but a little long in the tooth."

Jack cocked his head a fraction, eyes on the ground as he listened.

"I didn't expect the countess to have such a pretty sister," the other voice said. "Usually, only one sister inherits the beauty. But to be sure she is as fine a woman, if not finer."

"Don't let that husband of hers hear that or he'll take your head off," the voice said lowly. "He's a devil of a man. But I believe there's another sister as well. Youngest of the three."

"Well, where is she? Mountebank certainly miscalculated," he said. "Besides, I'd take a go at the youngest, especially if she is as pretty as her sisters."

"To be sure. Miss Taylor is fine, but probably better suited as someone's second wife."

It irked him to hear Meredith spoken about like she was day old bread, yet Jack was satisfied for some reason. He stood, decided he heard enough when the first man spoke again.

"Sir Kent seems interested enough."

The rack that held the cue sticks stood inches away from Jack. Who the hell was Sir Kent?

Deciding to pretend that he was interested in a match, he picked up one of the sticks and began to inspect the fine, smooth wood. He took a step back to hear the men better.

"Perhaps," the other spoke as his voice dipped. "But Sir Kent keeps a lady in London."

"Does he? I didn't know that."

"Not many do, but I have it on good authority that he's kept company with Madame Travers."

"Cor! Go on. She's the most damned sought-after courtesan in the city," he balked. "Why would she have him? He barely says anything."

"The hero bit, I assume. Supposedly he saved a whole regiment from certain death," the other man said, trying to sound bored but only sounded miffed. "But it doesn't matter. I doubt the good sir would be seeking a wife when he's got that bird in bed."

"Well, that never stopped any man before," the second man said, laughing as the other joined in.

Jack's jaw was set as he gripped the cue stick in his fists, threatening to snap it in half. The idea that Meredith would be married to a man that would turn around and bed another woman made his blood boil. How could anyone even dream about going off to toss another woman's skirts up when they had Meredith?

He needed to be away from this room, deciding that he had heard enough. Placing the nearly broken cue stick back in its rack, he left without issue. It wasn't even his business if this Sir Kent was searching for a wife, but what was his business was how Meredith would be affected. She wasn't the type of woman who would be content knowing her husband had a mistress. He knew she would be hurt by such an arrangement and it made him loathe these peers even more so.

For people who were always preaching about morality and sin, they certainly didn't care if they were the ones participating. He hated the double standards and, while Jack never emulated the image of a pristine angel, he knew several things for certain. A man provided for and took care of his wife's needs. All of her needs. And if he was foolish enough to marry her, he should honor his vows. Jack tried to ignore the fact that he had lied and cheated for most of his life as he made these declarations to himself.

He slowed his steps as he stalked through the house, his anger cooling as realization washed over him. Perhaps he had no place to tell anyone how to live their lives, especially when he hadn't ever been honorable. But if Jack had ever been sure of something in his life, it was this—he would always be faithful to Meredith.

The sudden awareness of his devotion to Meredith shook him to his core. It was because he was so invested in his thoughts that when he came around the corner, he nearly ran into the Duke of Mountebank.

"Jack. I mean, Mr. Archer," the duke said, loud enough so that the prying eyes of the moving crowd that surrounded them could hear. "It is an honor."

Jack had to bite his tongue from barking out a laugh. He didn't like Damien, not since they met, not since before. There was something about the man that irritated him greatly and it bothered him that Simon should be so trusting of someone neither one of them had known for very long.

Still, he knew what he was doing and while it rankled him, a small part of him wondered if he would be able to lessen Meredith's embarrassment by being accepted into the duke's good graces.

Why was her well-being the sole center of all his thoughts?

Stiffly, he nodded his head in the barest attempt of a bow.

"Your Grace," he said through gritted teeth.

"Come. Let's talk," he said with a half-smile as he led Jack away from the nosy guests.

"About what?" Jack said more to himself than the duke.

"Gossip."

"I bloody hate gossip."

"As do I. Which is why the bit I just heard makes me worry," he replied as his voice dipped. "It was about Miss Taylor."

Jack's eye snapped to his.

"What about?"

"It's hardly appropriate to repeat here," he said. "Come. Follow me to the study."

Jack followed Mountebank down the hallway to a closed door. Producing a key from his pocket, Mountebank unlocked the door and went in, followed closely by Jack.

The room was large and opulent, with six large windows that went from the floor to the ceiling, mirrored by dark wooden bookcases packed with hundreds, if not thousands of leatherbound books. Gold filigree outlined the ceilings that were covered in heavenly murals that hung high above them as they came into the room.

But Jack wasn't interested in his surroundings. All his focus was on Mountebank as the duke reached a large, walnut desk at the back of the room. He reached for a bird's eye maple box with silver inlay. Opening it, he took out a cigar and offered one to Jack. He refused, shaking his head.

The duke clipped it and picked up a glass tube, known as a D?bereiner's lamp. It was an invention, not twenty years old, that allowed the user to light a flame. A chemical reaction would produce a flammable gas to pass over a metal catalyst which caused a flame to ignite. The duke brought the cigar to his mouth and puffed on it, as a cloud of smoke rose between them.

"Now," Jack said after another moment, noting the way the duke's shoulders sagged after his initial inhale. "What did you hear?"

"I'm not quite sure, as it made no sense," Mountebank said, arms folding across his chest as the hand holding the cigar was propped up over his upper arm. "That's why it struck me as odd. An elderly lady in the card room was talking with a group of ladies when I overheard her saying that she remembered when a young Miss Taylor from Dorset had run away to be married. The countess and her sister are from Dorset, aren't they?"

A stilted silence followed as Jack stared at Mountebank as if he had lost his mind. Married? Meredith wasn't married. She was a spinster. An on the shelf governess. There was no possible way she had ever been married.

"Excuse me?"

"That's what I heard."

"From whom?"

"An elderly woman, a Miss Beecham, I believe. She's a great aunt of Miss Jenik, the sister of one of your associates."

"Yes, I know Jenik. I vaguely remember he said he used to live somewhere near the Taylors' home in Dorset. But that was over ten years ago. Why is their great aunt here?"

"If I had to guess, I believe she's here to chaperone Miss Jenik, since Mr. Jenik was called away to London." Mountebank shook his head. "I didn't think Meredith Taylor had ever even had a season, let alone a marriage."

"She hasn't," Jack said, feeling a sudden sinking feeling in his gut.

"Perhaps we should call for Simon and his wife."

Jack felt odd. As if a truth had been discovered that shouldn't have been. He felt torn, both wanting to defend Meredith against such a damning lie while also wanting to protect her from the repercussions of such a truth being revealed.

Jack's mind began to churn with speculation. A man had hurt Meredith a long time ago, but at what length?

"I'll find Simon," Jack said. "Try to keep that old woman away from others. She may be ruining a reputation without realizing it."

"To be sure. She seems close to senile. Bring them back here."

Jack left the office and headed back to the billiards room, eager to find Simon. Aggravated, he found his brother, who was in the middle of a conversation when he saw the expression on Jack's face. Excusing himself he came towards Jack.

"What is it?"

"There's an old woman from Dorset here. She's under the impression that Meredith has been married before."

Simon's face became shuttered as he scanned the room.

"Damn it," he said under his breath. "Where's Sarah?"

"Why?" Jack asked, ignoring the panic in his heart. "It isn't true, is it?"

Simon didn't speak, but his countenance all but confirmed it. A strange mix of anger and betrayal seemed to bubble within Jack. Why hadn't anyone told him? Why hadn't Meredith trusted him?

Gutted, he pushed past a silent Simon.