Chapter Sixteen

Meredith had decided to meet Clyde at the Swan on Stokes Pub, a working man's tavern in the Northern part of the city first thing the next morning. After the shock of receiving his letter the night before wore off, she had sent a note straight away, confirming a meeting time. The Swan on Stokes Pub was some distance from the center of the city, but it had a reputation for being in a seedy part of town. Bristol was rather dubiously known for being a tough city and while most of the local landed gentry and businessmen kept to the middle of the city, surrounded by the working class, the further parts of town consisted of taverns and dilapidated buildings and boarding houses—shoddy lodgings where someone could pay a penny a night to sleep in a bed.

She had never been to this part of Bristol, but she hadn't wished to be discovered by anyone she knew. Meredith had taken the chaise carriage, a two-wheeled vehicle, to just around the corner from the Archer Brother offices, where she paid the driver a guinea to stay until her return. Then she walked down the road and took a hackney north. She was sure that it would be unlikely to meet anyone of her social circle around here.

A frigid gust of wind blew upon Meredith's arrival to the tavern. She climbed out of the hackney, tightening the dark grey cloak around her shoulders as a few loose strands of hair whipped across her face. She had dressed in her dreariest gown, hoping not to draw too much attention to herself.

Meredith felt her stomach drop as she entered the building, that blessedly was nearly empty save a tavern owner, who was wiping down a table and a man, sleeping against the far wall, propped against it. After six years of complete silence, that Clyde should show up now made her nauseated. Of course, he would. He was probably lying in wait, hoping that she would need a divorce so that he could prey on her would-be spouse. Well, he was sorely mistaken if he thought she would pay him anything. God willing, he'd see that she had no wish to marry anyone and he would leave her alone.

The tavern owner watched her as she moved through the room.

"We're not quite open, yet, ma'am," he said.

"Oh, if you please, I'm supposed to meet someone here," she said. "We shan't be in your way."

The man made a face, but then his brow lifted.

"Very well. Two pints it is."

"Oh, but," she started when she realized that she would have to pay to stay. She smiled meekly. "Yes. Thank you."

She took a seat in the corner of the room as the tavern owner brought her two mugs of what she assumed was beer. She nodded her thanks and paid him two shillings as she watched the door.

She didn't have to wait long for Clyde to arrive. He wore a green jacket, matching top hat and a cream-colored vest. She hadn't seen his face when he first walked into the pub, but she was sure it was him from the way he walked. He had always had a bounce to his heels, a sort of laisse-faire attitude about him that hadn't diminished these six years.

He spoke first to the tavern owner, who pointed in Meredith's direction and their eyes met. Meredith felt her body began to buzz in the same uncomfortable way it did right before she became sick. She took a long, steady breath as she tried to focus on the task at hand as he approached her. As she glared up at him, she noticed how much he had changed.

Clyde had once had a healthy stature with thick flax colored hair that had dulled and thinned since last she laid eyes on him. Now he appeared as if he had lost two stone at least and his smile hadn't changed, charming as it always had been. His eyes were colder and more distant than she remembered. Or perhaps she hadn't ever noticed how calculating they had been before.

"Wife," he said as he came up to her table, bowing slightly before taking a seat. "My, you haven't aged a day."

"Don't call me that," she said stiffly, unwilling to give any leniency to him. "We were hardly married."

"Oh, but we were," he said slyly, glancing her over. "Consummated and all."

A vile taste came to Meredith's mouth as he smiled at her.

"What do you want, Clyde?"

"It's not what I want, my dear. It's what you want," he said, reaching into his pocket. Upon closer inspection, his clothes seemed somewhat threadbare. He smoothed out a page before him. "It seems Sir Kent has set his cap for you."

"Hardly," she said, uncomfortably. "We became acquaintances at a house party is all."

"That's not what the paper says."

"The paper is gossip and gossip cannot be trusted."

"Ah, but there's always a little truth in these pages," he said, tossing it down. "And even if he isn't sniffing around, I'm sure you'd like to be rid of your poor husband by now, wouldn't you?"

"Where have you been?" she asked, ignoring him. "Why did you write me? Why now?"

"Can't you guess?" She shook her head. "I've come to collect my penance for having been banished these past years."

"Banished?"

"Yes. You're dearly deceased brother-in-law, the earl, threatened me with bodily harm should I keep my feet on English soil. I left, obviously due to the threats, but when I tried to return upon his death, I was met with a similar agitation from my own family."

Meredith had always suspected that Sarah and her husband had a hand in Clyde's disappearance, but she didn't know to what extent.

"I didn't know."

"Didn't you?" he sneered. "I suspect my father had been bullied into it by your harpy of a sister."

"Don't you dare speak of her that way," Meredith said, snapping out of her thoughts. "And I truly did not know."

"Yes, well, I returned to the continent and had to wait until my dear old parents went to their final reward. They wouldn't have me, but Percy, well, he thought our parents were being unreasonable. After all, what had I really done that was so terrible?"

"You tricked me into marrying you and then abandoned me in Scotland for starters," Meredith grounded out.

"Tricked you? My dear, you were more than willing, if I recall," he said, his eyes drifting down the front of her dress. Meredith pulled her shawl tightly around her, which caused Clyde to laugh. "Have no fear, my dear. You've quite outgrown my tastes."

Feeling both ill and horrified, Meredith stood up, not wanting to be in his presence a second longer.

"What do you want from me, Clyde?" she asked as she tried to keep her voice low. "A divorce?"

"I told you, I'm not here for me. I'm here for you." He stood as well, stepping towards her. "What do you want, Meredith? To marry your Sir Kent? To finally be rid of me? Now wouldn't that be a dream?"

"I have no desire to marry Sir Kent," she said quickly. "But yes. I do wish to be rid of you."

"Then it will cost you," he said as his hand came up, waving off her words about not wanting to marry Sir Kent. "Or at the very least, my continued silence will."

One thin finger touched the edge of her jaw and she flinched, taking a step back. Lord above, she didn't want to be touched by him.

"Excuse me?" she asked. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"Such an ugly term, don't you think?" he said, before adding. "Yes, though, I am."

"What do you want?"

"I think a couple thousand pounds would set me up right," he said as she balked. His eyes squinted. "Better yet, make it an even five thousand."

"I don't have that much."

"No, but your new brother-in-law does, doesn't he?" he sneered. "Quite a capable harlot, your sister, to marry another rich man."

Furious indignation bristled throughout Meredith's body. How dare he talk about her sister like that. And where was she going to get five thousand pounds?

"You-you are a bastard," she said, whispering the curse.

"Easy, my dear, or someone here might hear you." He winked and her stomach turned. "Do we have a deal?"

"How do I know you'll give me what I want?"

"Because I brought what you want." Clyde opened his coat and pulled out a thick missive.

He unfolded it and held it out for her to read, but wouldn't let her hold it. There, at the very top of the page were the words ‘declaration of divorce' followed by their names. Meredith felt her body pull towards the document, suddenly desperate to be free of him. She reached for it, but he folded in quickly back up.

"Not yet," he said, tucking it in his coat pocket. "I'm owed something I believe."

Meredith stared at him and wondered for a split second if she had really been so blind all those years ago or if Clyde had changed. It didn't matter, because she was dealing with this now and as much as she hated what she was planning to do, she nodded briefly.

"I need two months," she said.

"Try three days," he said.

"Three days?" she repeated, shocked. "How do you expect me to find five thousand pounds in three days?"

"Not really my problem, wife," he said with a sickly smile. "I'll be here."

Meredith gave him one final glare before twirling on her foot, unwilling to be in his presence a moment longer. She hadn't truly believed that he would let her go, but the sight of those papers had given her a wild, uncontainable hope. She needed to get five thousand pounds, but how?

Her only hope was her investment with Jack. It was her one claim in the world and while it hadn't been three months, she hoped she could pull from it and hopefully have enough to pay Clyde off and in doing so, secure her freedom.

Taking her hackney back towards the center of the city, Meredith was close to the chaise carriage when she paused in her tracks. Looking down the road towards the offices, she had thought to return home to figure out a plan, but Clyde hadn't given her a great amount of time. She needed to get the money immediately and while she would have liked to make an appointment, she decided it couldn't wait.

She walked with purpose down the street and was nearly at the front doors when Jack appeared, coming out of the building, escorting her sister Beatrice. Meredith froze, only feet away from them, before turning around quickly, pressing herself against the building in hopes to go unseen.

Peering over her shoulder, she saw Jack help Beatrice up into a waiting carriage. They spoke briefly, while Jack pulled his pocket watch from the pocket of his vest. Nodding, he closed the door behind her and then patted the side of the carriage, signaling that it was clear to take off.

Meredith watched as the carriage pulled away, rolling her body to face the street. Why had Beatrice been to see Jack and what had they spoken of?

Turning to see if Jack was still outside of the building, Meredith nearly yelped when she saw him staring at her with an intensity that frightened her. She felt her body begin to tremble as people passed between them.

What was she doing? She was in over her head and she couldn't possibly demand her investment without having a dozen questions asked of her. She needed to think, she needed time. When Jack took a step towards her, she lost all her courage, and hurried back to her carriage.

Of course, Jack hadn't let her get two steps away before he fell into step beside her.

"What's wrong?" he asked instantly, his voice low.

"I-I," she tried, but her words failed her.

Much to her mortification, tears began to sting her eyes as she reached the chaise carriage. She felt like such a failure all of a sudden and to break down in front of Jack was humiliating. Meredith couldn't let him see her go to tears over something she couldn't explain. She wished she could. She wished she could confide everything to him, but this was not his mistake to take care of.

He opened the door of the chaise carriage, visibly waving off the driver as he did and helped her into the coach.

"Take her to Burnwall," he said through the opening.

"Oh, but I can't—" she protested, but he ignored her.

"I'll follow you there," was all he said as he closed the door and disappeared into the curious crowd of passersby.

Meredith would usually bristle at being handled in such a manner, but she let herself settle back into the plush, velvet seat and gave in to Jack's take over, if only for a carriage ride. Surely once she reached Burnwall she would feel better and return to her sister's home.

Had she made a terrible scene outside his offices, she wondered as the carriage lurched forward. Mercifully, the road wasn't busy and she was out of the city limits in a matter of minutes, followed by the soothing stomps of hooves from behind the carriage.

What did he possibly think he was doing, ordering her to Burnwall? She had simply let herself become overwhelmed. She needed to take a deep breath and figure out just what she was going to say to him. But as she formulated a perfectly cool, detached thing to say, a flash of their time together in the duke's study blazed in her mind.

Meredith closed her eyes. Oh, how did she let her life become such a mess?

By the time the coach pulled up the long drive of Burnwall, she felt an odd sense of comfort surround her. She had never been to Jack's home before and gazing out the window, she saw tall, majestic oaks surrounded the property, giving it a moat like quality. For the briefest of moments, she felt untouchable here, a place where no one could sway her, or threaten her and when the carriage stopped and the half door opened, she saw Jack's serious face as he helped her out.

The house was a Gregorian styled home, but it was nearly three quarters covered by a deep green foliage. If it were a happier occasion, Meredith would have thought that it was enchanting and even though she was in rather a kerfuffle, it still held a bit of whimsy she hadn't expected a man like Jack to enjoy.

He took her hand and promptly escorted her into the house, through the front door. The foyer was dark, with wood paneling and emerald green wallpaper that seemed to pull one into a magical sort of setting, as if it were some cave carved into a castle, with large, black and white tiled floors stretching out as far as Meredith could see. It was the oddest styled home she had ever seen and yet, as Jack pulled her deeper into its walls, she had never felt more at peace.

By the time they reached a small sitting room that overlooked an Italian styled garden at the side of the house, Meredith had nearly forgotten what she was doing there.

He rang for some tea as he pulled her over to a chair and gently pushed her down at the shoulders. She inhaled and exhaled deliberately, trying very hard not to focus on his hands.

"Now tell me what's happened?" he asked.

Meredith almost didn't speak. She didn't want to tell him about Clyde. She wanted to handle this on her own. All she needed was her money. Trying her hardest to smile, Meredith began to shake her head.

"I don't know what—"

"Don't lie to me, damn it." His hands dropped from her shoulders, landing on the arm rests on either side of her body, effectively caging her in. "Something happened."

Meredith bit her lip. She shouldn't lie, she acknowledged, but she couldn't tell him. She knew he would try to help her and she couldn't bear it.

"I need my money," she said quietly, fidgeting with her hands.

"It's in investment for another month."

"I need it now."

"It's impossible," he said, standing up. "It's not ready. It hasn't accrued its full potential."

"I don't care if it's ready or not. How much is there if I pull it now?"

When he didn't answer right away, she took a chance and peeked up at him. His cold eyes were watching her with suspicion and she felt suddenly exposed beneath his gaze.

"Why do you need it?"

"How much is there? If I pull it now?"

"I told you—it's tied up."

"How much?" she said forcefully, hating how desperate she sounded.

After a long pause, he spoke.

"Two thousand, four hundred and twenty-eight pounds."

Meredith closed her eyes in agony. It wasn't enough.

"I need more," she said, not directly at him, but more into the ether.

"For what?" he asked.

She shook her head as a fresh wave of tears threatened to fall down her cheeks. His hands were flexing as if he wanted or needed to do something and she wondered if he had ever felt as powerless as she felt that moment in his entire life.

"Tell me," he commanded softly.

"I can't," she replied with a pained expression.

For a moment neither moved, neither seemed to breathe. But in the next instance, Jack was walking around the room, making his way to a desk that had been set up against the far wall.

"How much do you need?"

Her attention snapped to his.

"Excuse me?"

"How much," he said slowly. "Do you need?"

"Jack, I…" she began but then she swallowed. She closed her mouth before answering his question. "I need five thousand pounds."

To her surprise, he didn't flinch, but that sum had made her ill. He bent over the desk and began to write something, when suddenly he was done and tore it from a book that she couldn't see from where she was sitting. He came back to her and handed her a piece of paper, written out with his name, an account and a subject line filled with the amount she needed.

"Take it to Lloyds tomorrow. They're closed now, but they'll cash it at once."

Meredith glanced down at the paper in her hands and felt a new wave of shame and gratitude. Why was this man constantly supporting her in ways that she had barely allowed herself to dream about? It was almost as if he knew her needs better than herself.

Still, the thought of taking this amount from him made her feel queasy. But she couldn't give it back, not when it was all that separated her from her freedom. She held onto the paper, careful not to crumple it.

"Thank you," she whispered softly, as she stood up, a tear falling down her cheek.

She looked at him, his dark eyes cold and shuttered. He was angry, she knew it and yet he had given her the help she desperately needed without demanding anything in return. She knew she could leave this room without uttering a single word and he would let her leave, completely unsatisfied with her unwillingness to trust him.

That fact and that fact alone made her heart burst with undue emotion. Could a man be so accommodating, so understanding? A deep, thundering sensation coursed through her as she watched him. It was as if the very blood in her veins yearned for this man and she knew in that moment that while she may not be able to trust herself, she did trust him.

She did trust him and she didn't want to leave without at least showing him how much she did. The longer she stared at him, the more uncomfortable he seemed to become. His mouth strained shut and his eyes dropped a fraction, seemingly unwilling to gaze at her anymore. For the life of her, Meredith couldn't understand why her feet wouldn't move, to take her away from this place and return to Clyde. She needed to pay him off and be out from under his thumb once and for all, but in doing so her debt would be transferred to Jack.

A shiver of intense pleasure ran down her spine at the thought. Of course, Jack would never expect her to pay him back, but she would. Lord help her, she would find a way to do so.

She took a step as her body moved towards Jack.

He stood perfectly still, as she came before him. She was close, too close for decency. She let the check drop from her hand as she went to touch his face, his stubble feeling oddly soft. He pulled his face away instantly, as if her touch burned him.

"Don't," he said huskily.

But Meredith couldn't stop. She was transfixed by his cravat for some reason and her fingers moved to untie it. Instantly, her wrist was caught in his rough grasp.

"Don't," he repeated, his words sticking in his throat. "Don't tempt me, Meredith."

She could see the restraint in him, almost as if he was holding back. She would be lying if she hadn't imagined what it would have been like to see him in the boxing ring, all that masculine energy and power unleashed in one of the only settings it was permitted. What would it be like if he syphoned that energy into the act of lovemaking? She felt her knees go weak at the idea of being under his authority. At his mercy.

"I'm not trying to tempt you," she whispered.

"I don't require anything," he said, shaking his head as he tried to find the right words. "What I mean to say is, you don't owe me anything."

Meredith's heart seemed to beat twice as fast at his words.

"Kiss me, Jack," she said as her other hand came up to his cheek.

"Careful, Meredith," he said, his voice soft and dangerous. "You're playing with fire."

Deciding that this was what she wanted, what she needed in this moment, her fingers went to the back of his head and entwined in his dark, curling hair.

"Kiss me," she repeated.

In an instant Jack was kissing her, crushing her soft body against his in a grip that would have been painful if it hadn't been exactly what she felt like she needed. His mouth was punishing and he kissed her with an untampered heat that she had never known.

Meredith felt wild with lust as they both seemed to be out of their depths. She clawed at his jacket, pushing it off as her hands came up to untie his cravat, while his hands roamed over her tightly laced gown.

"Bloody hell, where does it open," he growled into her mouth as he nipped at her neck.

"The front," she breathed as his fingers worked tirelessly to undo the row of buttons that ran from her neck to her midsection.

Meredith was without morals, without consequence. She needed to be with Jack, touch him, feel his skin against hers and they were both seemingly unable to stop.

Jack was quick with her buttons, and pushed the gown down her sleeves to undress her. She stepped out of the gown and pulled the long strings at the back of her corset to untie it as he removed his vest and shirt and when he did, Meredith gasped at what she saw.

Dozens of scars, some white and razed, some flat and purple, covered his taut chest muscles, that rippled and rolled as he moved. Her hand came up, as her fingers trailed against the scars and scrapes that had all healed long ago.

"What happened?" she asked, as he gripped her hand.

"I used to get into fights."

"Boxing?"

"No," he said with a half smirk. He leaned in and kissed her deeply as his hands began to pull at the edges of her chemise. "Take it off."

Feeling suddenly shy, but determined, Meredith grabbed her chemise by her hips and pulled the fabric up over her head. As she stood there, completely nude save her stockings, she felt more exposed and safer than she ever had. His eyes swept over her hungrily as he took a tentative step towards her. With a single pull of the ribbon atop her head, her amber colored hair fell around her shoulders. Jack hissed an expletive that made her blush before his hand was on the back of her head, his other on her hip as he pulled her toward him. He kissed her as he moved her about the room, laying her on a thick carpet that lay before the fireplace.

Meredith felt both drunk and electric, as he kissed down her body. His tempo had slowed and she felt as if he was suddenly taking his time as his hands moved down her abdomen, kissing and licking his way down. His hand came up to the center of her thighs, feeling her wetness as she gasped.

He rolled then, moving his hips to line up over hers as he did and though she was ready for him, he hesitated.

She looked up and saw something she had never seen before in his eyes. Something close to fear, but then why would he be frightened?

"Jack," she purred, pulling him close to her.

"Are you sure? About this?" he asked, his tone close to shaking.

"Yes," she said firmly as the hard length of him pressed against her opening. "Yes, Jack, please. Please."

In a single movement he was in her. It had been years since Meredith had lain with a man, and the sweet, painful push surprised her. Jack's head dropped, his forehead leaning against hers as his eyes closed.

"Merciful god, Meredith," he choked as he began to move. "My god."

Meredith was suddenly desperate, urgently needing him to continue moving, but he was torturous as he held still. Unable to stop herself she pushed up, urging him to roll over as her legs dropped to either side of his body. She moved forward, grinding against him as she sought a pleasure she hadn't felt in so long.

With each move, he inhaled sharply, until his hands found her hips and held her in a vice like grip, moving her in a preciously slow sort of way until it became quicker. A wave of heat crashed over Meredith as she found her release, her hands on his chest as he began to move beneath her, faster and faster, until he pulled her up and off him. His mouth found her breast and suckled her as the warm liquid of his seed fell on her calf.

They held onto each other for a long time before either moved. When Meredith's heart finally stopped racing and returned to its regular beating, she pulled back, only to find that he wouldn't release her from his arms.

"Jack," she whispered into his ear as she kissed his neck sweetly. "I have to go."

He didn't move.

"Where are you going?"

She kissed his ear.

"Please," she said. "Let go."

With much regret he pulled away from her and she felt a distinct need to push against him and seek the comfort of his arms. But she had things to do. She needed to return to her sister's home and then, first thing tomorrow, she would return to the Swan on Stokes and give Clyde his money.

Money that Jack had given her. Should she tell him that he was the single reason she would find freedom? But no. He would try to handle it and she couldn't let him clean up her mess, even if he was funding it. She needed to handle it on her own.

As if he were reading her thoughts, he spoke.

"I could help." He seemed completely comfortable being nude as he came up to her and although they had just made love, she blushed. "Let me help you, Meredith."

She felt herself pulled in two different directions. She wanted his help, to tell him everything, but a part of her knew that Jack might very likely try to hurt Clyde and while it might be satisfying to do so, she wanted Clyde to disappear from her life as quietly as possible. She needed to do this on her own.

"You already have. It's almost over, Jack."

"What is?"

She shook her head and hurriedly finished buttoning up her dress.

"I have to go," she said as she pulled on her slippers.

As she turned to leave, he reached for her arm and for the first time, Meredith felt a desperation in his touch. She couldn't look at him. She knew she would tell him everything if she did.

"Please," he said, his tone a mixture of desperation and anger.

Shaking her head, Meredith pulled from him. Holding the check he had written her tightly in her palm, she hurried out of the foyer and the door. Within seconds the carriage was driving away from Burnwall. She fought with herself for the remainder of the night whether or not she did the right thing, taking Jack's money, but it almost didn't matter. By this time tomorrow she would be a free woman, or at least, free from Clyde.

She'd have to deal with paying back Jack at a later time. The thought alone sent a thrill through her and she wondered if perhaps she wasn't some sort of harlot.