Chapter Two

Jack Archer walked back to his desk, surprised that he should feel so, well, interested in the conversation he had just had with Meredith Taylor. She was the sister of his brother's wife and she was a quiet, mousy sort of woman, although they had never actually spoken to one another except for a greeting or goodbye. He always assumed that she had thought little of him, as the rest of her social circle did.

Jack loathed the upper class. As a man who had come up from nothing, from orphan to petty thief, to prizefighter to lumber baron to bona fide millionaire, Jack couldn't stand the idea that some people thought they were better than others simply for being born into a rich family, or worse, being blue blooded. Nothing irritated him more than people whose entire personalities revolved around some lucky situation an ancestor had found themselves in hundreds of years ago. It was ridiculous and yet, the very fabric of his country's entire being revolved around it. The aristocracy was the definition of hypocrisy and anyone who actively took part in it was a liar.

Jack knew that his ideas were in contrast with society. With that and the legendary scar on his face, he was able to keep far away from the balls and soirées his brother Simon was forced to go to with his new wife. Of course, he had business to attend at those functions, unlike Jack. If the Archer brothers were social pariahs, then he was the worse of the two.

Jack had made himself unapproachable on purpose. Except that Miss Taylor didn't think so.

It had been a surprise to see the disheveled lady peering into his office as he shouted at his secretary. He had been in a foul mood that morning, due to a miser of a man, Mr. Crockett in Brighton. The old cotter was trying to back out of a deal that had all but been finalized. Jack was already paying more than he usually would for a failing company, but the conditions had been truly horrendous and in a moment of weakness, he had offered to buy it from Crockett for a small fortune. Usually, Jack would drag a deal for months to get the seller to accept a measly amount, but he had felt particularly strong about the workers and had hoped a higher bid would shorten the time period of acquisition. Now Crockett was trying to renege on their deal and Jack had been furious.

He had been in the middle of his angry outburst when the luster of Miss Taylor's caramel-colored hair shined in the morning light from the window behind him, catching his eye. He had noticed her the moment she came into view as his eyes had been well trained to catch even the slightest of movements since his life as a pugilist. Even now as he sat behind his desk, remembering the sight of her, it was her hair that seemed to command most of his attention.

That was, until she spoke. He had heard her speak before, but never directly to him. A few words to Sarah or Simon, an encouragement or two to her nephew during the handful of times they found themselves in each other's presence. While Simon had married Sarah some six months earlier, Jack had made it a point to avoid their home as much as he could. He saw Simon enough at work and there wasn't very much reason to visit his home, especially since Jack hadn't been particularly impressed with his wife.

Sarah, the former countess de Marchand had been a lady of first society and, in Jack's opinion, had used his brother for years. Of course, Jack had been proven wrong when she actually married Simon, an act that was not lost on him, but Jack could never understand why his brother had been so willing to, in Jack's opinion, sacrifice his principles for a woman, even a pretty one.

To be sure, Sarah was of an attractive sort, even if her hair was a bit dark for Jack's tastes. She was a touch too tall and rather too thin on top for him as he unwittingly compared her to Meredith in his mind. The countess's sister was far more to his liking.

Her nose was straight, not too small, and her mouth, while thin, seemed to have a permanent curve at the corners which seemed to capture his interest more than he would like to admit. He had found it difficult to tear his gaze away when she had been standing before him.

Meredith was shorter, with more curves and seemed to be perfectly matched for his stature, but he certainly wouldn't admit it. And she had the strangest colored eyes. Were they green? Brown? They appeared to be both and neither at the same time. He couldn't quite put his finger on it and yet, there seemed to always be something contradicting about her.

She always behaved and dressed in a modest, governess sort of way and never once alluded to being anything but prim and proper, but Jack couldn't help but feel there was something wild beneath her tight lace and petticoats. She never said or did anything outrageous and yet he couldn't help but feel there was a deep well of secrets about her. Her hooded eyes held a sort of reserved restlessness that others didn't seem to notice. But how could they not?

Meredith wasn't simply a puritanical miss, or at least she seemed to try to give that impression. Even when she held her chin up and wore that dreadful lace collar all the way up her neck, Jack had always felt a strong sort of vibrance coming from her. Yet when he requested a kiss for helping with her investment, she hadn't been frazzled.

He hadn't expected to make such a comment. But then she had appeared so uninhibited at that moment, her cheeks had been a deep pink color, her eyes shining with a sort of calculating hope. There was something oddly earnest about her and she had been so beautifully windswept that he had suddenly wanted to kiss her.

A foolish idea and yet, he didn't regret asking her.

A cottage by the sea, he mused as he leaned back in his chair. What would she wish to be alone for? Surely, she would be lonely, but then she had never been properly alone her entire life. No woman of her standing was in fact. They were always in someone's company and while she seemed to get along well enough with her sister, perhaps they argued behind closed doors. Jack could understand wanting a reprieve from people. He absently touched his scar. He could understand that.

Just as he was picturing Meredith lying on a small sofa in front of a fire in a seaside cottage, dressed in some charming robe with her warm, caramel hair draped over her shoulders, a knock sounded from the door. Jack was pulled abruptly from his thoughts as he saw Simon enter.

"Portage told me about Crockett," Simon said as he came into the room without preamble. "I can have it sorted out by the weeks' end. I'll send Benjamin."

"Don't bother," Jack said, shaking his head. "I'm going to see to him myself."

"He's just trying to get more money."

"I know what he's trying and he's mistaken in thinking we can be pressed." Jack flexed his left hand. "I'm sure all Crockett needs is a reminder who he's dealing with exactly."

Simon didn't look pleased.

"We're out of that game, Jack," he said. "We've been legitimate for five years now."

"Enough time for those who think they can shake us down that we're too respectable. Besides, the longer Crockett is in charge of that company, the longer his employees suffer under his charge."

"Then we'll send Benjamin and make it clear to Crockett that he won't get a cent more from us. Not to mention we're overpaying for his business."

"He'll refuse then."

"Then let him," Simon countered. "And we'll be able to halve our offer in two months when he comes crawling back."

"And how many of his employees will be injured or killed between then and now?" Jack said, annoyed.

Didn't Simon understand? Crockett's mining company, while once profitable, was a damn death trap. It was dangerous, dirty work and Crockett thought nothing of using his employees as damn near slaves. It made Jack's stomach turn.

"I understand," his brother said. "But you can't save every damn soul that works in the pits." Jack was shaking his head, unwilling to hear his brother. "Let Benjamin handle it. He can be persuasive as well."

"Diplomatically."

"Yes, which is why we pay him. It's what we should be about now. You can't fight the world forever, you know."

Jack stood, eager to be done with the conversation. Pulling out his pocket watch, he saw that it was still an hour until noon. Feeling particularly on edge today, he decided to take his daily drink early.

Pouring a glass of scotch for himself as his brother never seemed to drink this early these days, he took a long, slow sip of the amber liquid. The burning sensation grounded him and he took a deep breath. It was how he had calmed the irrational anger he had felt for years.

He supposed there were better ways to deal with his gripe that life was unfair. It seemed the majority of people were only born into the world to suffer and while those in power could help, they chose not to, all out of greed.

Jack had been furious in his youth about it and he had physically fought to alleviate the anger he had once felt in his youth. As he grew older, however, his anger seemed to dim and once he stopped fighting, he turned to more pleasant diversions. Gambling for one, was a great distraction.

Jack had also found distractions in women. While Meredith may have thought it was beneath her to earn a coin for a kiss, Jack had come from the other side of the world. He held little judgment for those women who used their bodies to make a living. In fact, he believed it a capital idea and gladly paid handsomely for their services. Jack had a bit of a reputation with the courtesans in Bristol, in particular the ladies who worked for Madame LaMont. They were people like him, people who had traded their bodies for money and meals and Jack had felt comfortable with them. He was known to be generous in bed and they all wished to be his sole paramour, but Jack didn't believe in limiting himself.

Although, if he were being honest with himself, Jack wasn't sure how to be with one person, in a dedicated sort of fashion. He had only ever done for himself and couldn't understand how to fit a second person into his life. Would their wants and wishes come before his own? Wouldn't he resent the person eventually? It just didn't make any sense to him. He knew people married and that the world needed those who would, but it wasn't for him. In fact, marriage seemed rather a useless idea when he could simply pay someone to take care of his needs, and now that he considered it, it had been a while since he had used such services. It had been several months, in fact, since he had visited Madame LoMont's brothel. Perhaps that's why he had been so taken with Meredith.

He took a long sip of his scotch and exhaled. His daily drink was another way he dealt with his anger. All he needed was a drink and a deep breath to let go of whatever aggravation he was feeling. At the moment it was his attraction for Meredith and his anger towards Crockett.

Jack finally sighed after a moment.

"Very well," he said. "Let Benjamin do it."

"Thank you," Simon said, moving to sit down in one of the leather club chairs in front of Jack's desk. "Now, I've other business to discuss with you."

"What business?"

"We are hosting a dinner party at the end of the month. Sarah insists that you come."

Jack peered over the rim of his glass as he paused midair. Had Simon lost his bloody mind? Or more, had his sister-in-law forgotten that he didn't attend society parties?

"No," he said as his arm lowered.

"Yes."

"Whatever for?"

"It is a family dinner and Sarah wants you to attend."

"Oh, well, then absolutely not."

"Jack, don't be difficult. You are a part of a family, as much as it displeases you."

"We never needed a family before. I don't see why I have to suffer now that you've gotten yourself a wife. With a brood of relatives, I'll remind you, each more bothersome than the last."

It had been a strange transition for Jack since Simon's marriage. He had only ever had a brother and the only person he had ever honestly cared for was Simon. It had shamed him to discover that he had recently begun to feel jealous of his brother as well as his new sister-in-law since she commanded so much of Simon's attention. Jack had much preferred their lives as bachelors as opposed to how it was now. Jack was often by himself now and while he begrudgingly knew that Sarah was good for his brother, he hadn't quite learned how to live a life so alone.

Simon brought his hands together in a contemplative way, his fingertips resting lightly on their counterparts.

"What about Mountebank?"

"What about him?"

"He's family. And you refused your invitation to his wedding last month, which wasn't good form on your part."

Jack squinted.

"That duke is your kin, not mine," he said with agitation. "I had no wish to be a part of that parade of a day."

It was true. Simon and the Duke of Mountebank shared a father, and the former duke who had passed away of a wasting disease some six months prior. Simon hadn't known about the identity of his father until Sarah had discovered the truth, but while his brother had formed something of a relationship with the duke, Jack wasn't required to do so and hating the upper class as he did, he saw no reason to bother.

"Still. Mountebank has never treated you poorly—"

"And so, I should thank him? Kiss his ring and make myself available to his every beck and call?"

Simon glowered at him.

"You're acting like a jackass," he said. "He was just trying to be polite."

"I don't need any favors from him, or any duke for that matter. Besides, why does your wife want me at a dinner party anyway? I'm a marked man, or have you forgotten?" he said, as he trailed his middle finger against the deep scar that stretched out from the corner of his mouth. "Beasts don't dine with polite company."

"Don't try to make me pity you. Sarah is hosting a small, intimate dinner and she wants you there. As a united front."

Jack squinted at the terminology.

"Is she launching an attack?"

"Something like that," Simon conceded. "We're sponsoring her younger sister, Beatrice, next season, finally after fighting with her mama for several months."

"Yes, finally," Jack said sarcastically.

"And the more Sarah thought about it," Simon said loudly, ignoring his brother. "The more she felt Meredith would benefit from something similar. It wouldn't be a proper season, but what with Meredith's wish to become more financially independent, Sarah thought it would be a grand idea to, well, introduce her to some quality gentlemen, should she want companionship at some point in the future."

Jack glanced at his brother. So, they were trying to marry Meredith off, were they? Did she know? He doubted it and while Jack didn't care either way, a small, unfamiliar feeling began to simmer in his chest. It was an odd sensation, one he hadn't experienced in a long time, not since before he was wealthy. It was the pestering feeling of not being able to have something out of his reach. It reminded him of when he was poor and literally fighting for his next meal. He didn't like it. But then, he didn't want Meredith.

Did he?

He shook his head, trying to shake the feeling from him.

"And my presence will do what? Scare some bastard into offering for her?" he asked, trying to keep his tone from sounding interested.

"No, but Sarah says you're family, She wants you there. And I would like it as well."

Well, that was unfair. Jack and Simon's relationship had always been close, but they had always kept their deeper feelings silent. It had worked for their whole lives, as they had often been able to read each other. There was obviously love between the brothers, but it was an unspoken sort of love. To be told out loud by the other that he was wanted somewhere, well, he might as well have tried to hug him.

"Very well," Jack said, hoping the agitation in his voice was evident. "I'll be there."

"Good," Simon said standing up to leave. "Now I have to go see a man about a horse."

Jack gave him a speculative look.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Well, see a woman about a horse, actually. Sarah has finally agreed to getting Daniel a horse, as long as she's involved and I suggested the baroness breeder I got my team from last year."

Sarah had been wary about letting her son begin riding lessons as her first husband had been thrown and suffered a broken leg, which had led to a fever that had killed him. Simon had been at her for months to let him teach his step-son Daniel how to ride and it seemed she finally relented.

"Well, good luck," Jack said.

Simon stopped before he made it to the door. "Oh, how was your meeting with Meredith this morning? We rode into town together, but she had me drop her off at the millinery and said she would walk the rest of the way. I thought it rather far, but she insisted and as I had an appointment at the bank, it suited me. How did it go?"

Jack shrugged.

"She has a small sum of money. I've an investment I think could help her," Jack said, searching through some papers as he came round his desk.

"Did you find out what she intends to buy with it?" Simon asked, seemingly interested. "She's been very tight lipped about any plans."

For some reason, Jack shook his head, unwilling to give up her secret want for a cottage by the sea. It was a foolish thing to keep secret, but then it wasn't his to tell.

"No," he lied. "But I can't imagine she wants more than a thousand pounds. It wouldn't cost you much to give it to her."

"I tried, but she's terribly stubborn, not unlike Sarah," Simon said, smirking absently at the mention of his wife. "It's beneath her to accept a monetary gift, I suppose. Besides, she insists on doing it herself."

"Stubborn indeed," Jack said, shaking his head.

Simon smiled before nodding and leaving the room to head to his own office across the hall. So, Meredith was going to be out in society, officially it seemed. That was probably for the best. She wasn't old enough to be permanently on the shelf and while she was attractive, now that he gave it a proper thought, she was really too pretty to be without a husband. Pretty women were always more trouble when they were unattached.

Jack recalled the blush on her cheek as he tried to concentrate on his work. He found himself wondering what it would feel like to touch that cheek. Her eyes all but glowed beneath her brows that arched in a way that made him feel curious. What could she possibly know that would intrigue a man like Jack?

He needed to get a grip on himself, as a familiar feeling stirred within him. It wouldn't do for anyone if he suddenly found himself attracted to the spinster. She was being relaunched into society after all, and Jack, well, Jack hadn't been with a woman for too long it seemed. Especially if some puritan dressed miss was setting his imagination on fire.

He would push her out of his mind and focus on work. Of course, that seemed impossible as he replayed their earlier conversation in his head. What had she meant by All men try to make fools of women? Had someone tried to make a fool of her? Perhaps even asked for a kiss?

Jack wasn't pleased to find the thought of her being kissed by another man made him feel mildly agitated. If he had any sense, he'd forget Meredith Taylor that very moment and not give her a second thought ever again.

Of course, since Jack never had the good sense about doing what was best for himself, he didn't stop thinking about her for the rest of the day.