Chapter Three

Meredith had expected that the next time she would see Jack would be the following week, like he said. Therefore, she was surprised the next day when she saw a Friesian horse ride up to the house from the bay window seat of the second story music room. She had been reading through a lesson plan that morning before starting her afternoon lessons with her nephew Daniel.

She had often retreated to this particular room since her sister was terrible at all musical instruments and avoided it, along with most members of the household. Meredith wasn't sure why Simon had even insisted on having a music room, but she was grateful for it. Most evenings she would retire after dinner to play the piano for an hour or two before her eyes grew heavy. She would often take her mornings here as well, writing down lesson plans at a small desk that sat in the corner of the room. Only today the sun had been so inviting that she had sat on the plush window seat bench that overlooked the western drive.

The sky had turned grey and while none of the leaves had begun to change colors yet, the coldness from the night before seemed to hold on longer and longer with each passing morning. The wind, that had refused to settle down since yesterday, moved through the tree branches as a dozen or so green leaves fell when another movement caught her eye.

She watched with interest as the glossy black steed came bounding up the road at a speed that made her uncomfortable. It was Jack's horse, Drachma, named after the ancient Greek coinage. She had seen it once or twice since coming to live in Bristol, but never up close. From what she understood, Jack loved the horse, or at least, he cared for it a great deal.

She watched as he swung off the animal. He removed his hat for a moment, tousling his wavy hair with his fingers to smooth it back. He handed the reins to a coachman and straightened his coat before gazing up to the house. Meredith caught his glance as he did a quick double take up at the window.

Having every intention to quickly leave, Meredith felt herself rather transfixed to the spot. She stared at him as a strange mixture of curiosity and attraction came over her. For a long moment, he didn't move either, as if they were somehow magically tethered together. She could have sworn his gaze darkened as her skin began to tingle before she came to her senses and removed herself from view.

Oddly, Meredith felt breathless as her hand went to her midriff. What a silly thing to have done. It was rude to stare of course, and worse to be stared at, but then she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from him. Something had urged her to stay put and her mind began to wonder what it would be like to be held in his arms.

Now that was a foolish idea. Best to avoid him while he was here in case she had any other fanciful ideas. No doubt he would think her the worst kind of woman should he ever know how wild her mind wandered. Mercifully, her quiet, almost matronly exterior confused men and threw them off of her otherwise sensual thoughts.

It was those same untamed emotions that had gotten her in trouble six years earlier. Clandestine feelings had no place in her life and would only serve to get her into trouble.

Shame filled her at the memory of Clyde and how hard she had fallen for him. In her youthful fancy, she believed herself to be truly, madly, and deeply in love with Clyde Peterson, when really it had been a flash-in-the-pan kind of romance. Clyde had simply been the first man to show interest in her and Meredith had been so eager to follow in her sister Sarah's footsteps and make a love match.

Clyde had been the third son of Sir Samuel Peterson, a landed gentry gentleman who lived next to Meredith's family for a generation. While his older brothers had been serious and steadfast, Clyde had been the opposite in all manners. He was easy to smile and quick with a compliment, though Meredith knew now that it was all a part of his charm. Clyde could flatter anyone and for a passing summer, he had flattered Meredith and she had given her entire heart to him for a few pitiful sonnets.

Guilt washed over her as she remembered his words. It hadn't been a particularly happy time for Meredith's family that summer she turned eighteen. Her father had fallen ill and was progressively getting worse. While Sarah had made a successful love match with the Earl de Marchand the year before, Meredith had been left with her mama, whose constant worry was marrying off the rest of her daughters. Beatrice, the youngest, was too young to be married off, but Meredith was the perfect age, except that it was likely that she would go into mourning before her season began.

What luck, she had thought at the time, when Clyde proposed to her. Her mama had balked, insisting that she could do better, and with father so ill, she could hardly bring it to him to argue on her behalf. It was why she ran away to Gretna Green with Clyde in the middle of a September night, like two star-crossed lovers.

It had been dreadfully romantic and she had been wildly happy for two whole weeks afterwards, as they took a small honeymoon in the highlands. Her relationship with Clyde had been doomed to fail from the beginning, but Meredith couldn't quite regret those two weeks of marital bliss. They had been separated from the world, alone together and if this was where she could be for all time, she would have a happy life indeed. Only it didn't turn out that way. Two weeks into their marriage, Meredith discovered that Clyde had no plans to support her. He had instead demanded a ransom for her from her ailing father to return, only her father had died during their stint in Scotland.

The creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet weren't loud enough to distract her from her memories as they reemerged in her mind. For two weeks Clyde had pretended to be devoted to her until he disappeared. When he didn't return, Meredith had lived alone for several days until she was found by Sarah and her first husband Robert. Although he never said anything to her, Meredith was sure her brother-in-law thought poorly of her and when she returned home, it was all but confirmed. Her mama, Mrs. Taylor, blamed her husband's death on Meredith and while Clyde never returned to his father's home, it was rumored that a great scandal had taken place for the Petersons. The Petersons soon moved away while whispers continued for years afterwards.

Meredith had always wondered how her reputation had remained intact, knowing Robert must have paid someone off. Still, what was done was done and Meredith for all purposes was still technically married. It was why she never allowed herself to dream of her own happily ever after. She wasn't going to have one and even if she did somehow manage to meet a man who wouldn't use her or hurt her, what could she do? Clyde couldn't be called upon for a divorce because he hadn't been seen since the night he abandoned her in the highlands.

A knock echoed throughout the music room, shaking her from her musings as she looked up. It was Sarah, who was absolutely glowing in an emerald gown, her dark hair drawn up on her head in an elegant fashion. Meredith always envied Sarah's wardrobe, but knew better to say as much as her sister would whisk her away to London to have several dozen gowns made. Her sister would delight in having gowns made for her, but Meredith couldn't allow it. Sarah had been a respected widow countess and as far as anyone knew, Meredith was a spinster and she made it a point to dress like one. Her own plaid cream and brown colored gown was far more reserved.

"Darling," Sarah said as she came into the room. "Jack Archer has come to speak with you."

A thrill went through Meredith, but she didn't know why. Instead, she tilted her head.

"Has he?"

"Indeed—something to do with your investment plans, no doubt." Sarah hands trailed against the back of a chair. "Meredith, there's something I've been meaning to discuss with you."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Well, I had hoped to breach the topic at a different time, but I believe my brother-in-law may have been informed about the matter and I'd rather you not hear about it from him."

Meredith frowned.

"What is it?"

"Simon and I were planning to have a dinner party at the end of the month," her sister began. "You know that we're sponsoring Beatrice next season, don't you?"

"Yes," she said. Meredith smiled cheekily. "Are you starting a screening process for her then? To make sure her suitors are on the up and up?"

"Well, no, darling. Not for her. It's for you."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Whatever do I need…" Meredith's smile slipped from her face as her eyes rounded. "Oh, no, Sarah. No. Absolutely not."

"Now hear me out."

"Absolutely not," Meredith repeated firmly. "I've no wish, no desire to meet anyone, especially any suitors."

"But Meredith, you're being unreasonable. I hardly think one dinner party is going to have you married."

"Why a dinner party? Why now?" Meredith shook her head. "I don't want to get married, Sarah. I can't get married. As you well know."

"I'm not saying anything about getting married, darling. I was simply thinking that perhaps you might like to meet someone."

"Well, I don't. Keep your meddling to Beatrice's affairs. You'll have your hands filled with Mama, I have no doubt. I've no wish to marry or meet a single soul."

"Mama is already making ridiculous demands," Sarah said, temporarily preoccupied. "Do you know she wants us to stay with Lord and Lady Ashburn when we go to London? As if our home in Mayfair isn't up to par. It's insulting, frankly." Sarah blinked. "But you've distracted me. You've every bit of right to meet someone who can make you happy. You're pretty and intelligent and there's no reason why you shouldn't be courted."

"There's one very good reason," Meredith said pointedly. "Besides, I'm perfectly content with my life as it is."

"Perfectly content isn't perfectly happy." Sarah stepped towards her. "I don't mean to upset you, Meredith, really, I don't. I just want what's best for you."

"And marrying me off, when you know I can't even be married off, is your best idea?"

"Firstly, I very much doubt that incident," she said with contempt, "was even legally binding. He tried to ransom you back to Papa for a fee, so I doubt he had the correct paperwork."

"It doesn't matter if it was binding or not," Meredith insisted. "I'm not a… What I mean to say is, we laid together."

"You wouldn't be the first woman to marry after sleeping with someone."

"Sarah," she said, her tone one of warning.

"Besides, he has not been seen for years, Meredith. Years. He could be dead for all we know. And no one is trying to marry you off." Sarah appeared slightly hurt and Meredith felt a fresh wave of guilt hit her. "I just thought it would be nice for you to meet some people. You've practically been in hiding for six years and you were once so social."

Meredith glanced down, trying to deny it, and failing. She had once loved visiting friends, dancing, and socializing. But forfeiting it all had been the price she had to pay for her reputation.

"Before I made a mess of everything," she said lowly.

"And working as a governess has hardly allowed you to take much pleasure in society. I know you prefer it to living with Mama and I adore having you with me, you must know that."

Sarah came before her sister and took her hands. She squeezed.

"Yes," Meredith conceded. "I know that. I love being here."

"I just thought perhaps you would benefit from being a part of the world, at least here in Bristol. No one knows anything about the Taylors here and even if they did, nothing was ever confirmed or even whispered about what happened."

Meredith had long wondered if it had been Sarah who had been able to silence their home community, but something in her kept her from asking. She nodded.

"You're right. You are right," she replied.

"Then you won't abandon me during the party?" Sarah asked with a hopeful smile. "You'll come?"

"Yes, of course. It's not as if I could avoid it, could I?"

"I hoped you wouldn't," her sister said, squeezing her hands before she let them drop. "Come, let's go downstairs. Jack is waiting to see you in the formal parlor."

The reminder that Jack was in the house, waiting to see Meredith, gave her a small thrill. Of course, he had most likely come to discuss money, but then she hadn't quite forgotten how she felt when he stared up at her through the window upon his arrival.

Trying to sound nonchalant, she moved forward to walk with her sister.

"I didn't expect to see Mr. Archer so soon."

"Well, he said he had some business to attend to with Simon, although he knows how I feel about him working on Saturday."

"It's Sunday that is reserved for rest."

"Yes, but Sunday is the Lord's day. Saturday is mine."

Meredith smirked at her sister.

"Simon isn't very religious, though, is he? You can share him with the Lord no doubt."

"Or I can have two days without him running to the office," she said coyly as they reached the staircase. "Besides, it can't possibly be good for one's health, going to work like he does every day."

"I think your husband and his brother have always worked and to not do so would drive them mad with boredom," Meredith said. "I think it must be a middle-class sort of feeling about things."

"That's true. I do believe Simon would benefit from a country life as opposed to the city."

"What about his brother?"

Sarah faced Meredith.

"Jack? I don't know. I never thought about it."

Feeling the tips of her ears begin to warm, Meredith reached the landing quickly and headed for the parlor. When she realized she was alone, she turned.

"Aren't you coming?"

A queer expression sparkled in Sarah's eyes.

"No, actually, I just remembered I had to speak with the cook about something. For the party. I'll only be a moment."

She hurried away before Meredith could speak. Very well. If her sister wished to be aloof, she had no recourse to stop her.

Entering the parlor, Meredith was surprised to feel a sudden tightening in her core as she saw Jack. He stood with his hands behind his back, in grey slacks and a black and grey diamond patterned vest, with a long black coat. He was without his hat now and his wavy hair had been pushed back recently, with a strand or two falling over his forehead. He had shaved, she noted, as his scar was much more visible now. Still. She barely registered it as she came into the room. The gentle perfume of soap and autumn clung to him. Cold air and earthy herbs that lined nearly every garden in Bristol radiated off him as she stood before him.

"Mr. Archer," she said, nodding her head. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

He gazed at her a moment longer before nodding, his dark eyes never leaving her.

"Miss Taylor," he said, his voice deep and warm. "I hadn't expected to see you either, but then here I am."

"Yes, here you are."

They stared at each other for a moment, an awkward silence filling the air between them.

"I don't know where my sister is," she said, peering over her shoulder. "She was only to be a minute."

"I'm quite content here without your sister."

Meredith stared back at him. He was trying to shock her or bait her into something, she was sure. Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"So that you might say something outrageous again? To try and ruffle my feathers?" she asked, feeling bold. "You shan't shock me again, Mr. Archer. I know you now."

"Do you?" he asked, taking a step toward her. She took a step back and he smirked. "You seem afraid of me."

"Hardly."

"It wouldn't bother me. Most people are afraid of me."

"I think most people are afraid of the Beast of Burnwall, not Mr. Archer."

"We are one in the same."

"I don't think so," she said. "I think one is a clever epithet. Quite helpful when making deals and demanding things to go his way." Jack smirked as he stared at her. "And I think the other is a man who enjoys not being challenged."

"I've always liked a challenge," he countered.

"In the boxing ring, perhaps," she stated. "Not in business."

"Well, aren't you a clever sort. So, my scrapes and scars don't bother you?"

Meredith had been terrified to look at him the first time they met, having heard stories of his scars, but when she finally had, she didn't think they were all that terrible. To be honest, his other scars were rather mild. There was one over his left eye, that carved right at the arch of his brow. A white, raised mark cut across his nose and then there was the half Glasgow grin, that swept up from the right corner of his mouth, halfway up his cheek.

With his wavy hair and dark eyes, he gave the impression of some sort of golden demon, but she hadn't been afraid. No, much to her private embarrassment, she had been intrigued. For what sort of man could look so wicked and beautiful at the same time?

Even now, she knew fear was the furthest thing from her mind when she watched him.

"No," she said, hating how her voice sounded suddenly sultry. "Nothing about your face bothers me."

The glint in his eyes shined as he watched her, as if seeing something for the first time.

"You know, you're one of the few people who can bear to stare at me," he said. "Most people turn away by now."

"Most people are, as you said, afraid of you. It's hard to look someone in the eye when they scare you."

"Especially when they're beastly."

"You're not beastly, Mr. Archer," Meredith said decisively.

"Don't try and flatter me, darling."

"I'm not, I'm being honest. Your appearance is … surprising perhaps, at first. But I think you're quite easy to look at."

Jack stared at her with open fascination.

"I can't tell if you're sincere or attempting to make some sort of jest, but I intend to find out, Miss Taylor."

"I wouldn't jest about such things."

"But you could lie," he said, conversationally, as if they weren't discussing him. "Most ladies of your position refrain from commenting on people's appearance and when they do, it's always complimentary, but rarely honest."

"I never lie," she said, sticking up her chin.

"Don't you?" he asked. "Then tell me, Miss Taylor, is your sister aware of your wish to buy a cottage by the sea?"

Meredith's own smiled faltered.

"That's hardly lying."

"Omission of the truth on purpose is the definition of lying. Tell me, does she know about it?"

"No, although I'm sure she knows now, since I told you."

"Do you think I would betray your secret?"

"It's hardly a secret."

"Then why not tell her?"

Meredith felt stumped. It wasn't a grand kind of secret. She had plenty of those, yet it was a private thing, a small, unknown thing she kept close to her heart. Mostly because it was the closest thing she had to a dream in a long time.

"It's private."

"You told me," he said, sounding from behind her. "Why?"

"I don't know," She turned and was surprised to see that he had come close and was now within arm's reach of her. "I suppose you forced me to tell you."

"That hardly paints me in a good light, does it?"

"No, it does not," she said honestly. "But why didn't you tell your brother?"

Jack's mouth opened, but he seemed suddenly distracted. Meredith was curious what he must see when he suddenly shook his head.

"It wasn't my secret to tell." He shrugged. "But I do have some information for you. I've found a new venture for your money. It will take only three months as opposed to the six months I had originally estimated."

"That's wonderful," she said, smiling. "Thank you, Mr. Archer."

"But I will need payment before you can collect."

Her smile dropped.

"As I told you before, Mr. Archer. I will not kiss you."

"That's not the payment anymore," he said and she felt her heart drop a little. "There's something else I want."

"What is it?"

"I want to know what you meant yesterday in my office. When you said all men try to make fools of women."

Meredith felt like she was being lured into a trap. She shook her head.

"I only meant that they do," she said tentatively. "Men always try to exploit women, through one way or another."

"Men like me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not a gentleman, Miss Taylor. I would never claim to be, but I wonder if you were referring to men like me, of my social stature, or if your assessment was of all men in general?"

Meredith stared at him. What a strange thing to ask.

"It was in reference to all men," she answered. "I'd hardly single out your character, Mr. Archer."

"If that is that case, I wonder," he said, taking a step towards her, his body coming close to hers. "Who hurt you and did you let them get away with it?"

Meredith felt the color drain from her cheeks as she glared into this horrible, handsome man's eyes. What a private thing to ask someone. What a crass, invasive thing to ask.

"W-why would you assume that anyone hurt me?"

"I don't assume it, I know it," he all but growled as he leaned forward, causing Meredith's breath to hitch. He was much too close now, mere inches away. "But I am curious…"

"A-about what exactly?"

"About you, Meredith Taylor."

Feeling heat creep up beneath her collar, Meredith retreated when the echo of her sister's voice came drifting through the room.

"Here we are, Simon," Sarah said loudly, giving Meredith time to walk away from Jack.

She put a respectable distance between them by the time her sister and brother-in-law entered the room.

"Yes, dear," Simon said, somewhat confused, before turning his attentions to his brother. "Ready, Jack?"

"Yes," Jack answered.

"Ah, Meredith. I assume Jack has told you about his venture with Mr. Dent?"

"I was just explaining to Miss Taylor the mechanics of the grain elevator," Jack lied smoothly, before glancing at Meredith. "Mr. Dent has invented a steam powered grain elevator. A clever man out of Buffalo, New York. The logistics are sound and the capital that would come from investing would be rather impressive."

"How impressive?" Meredith asked.

"Ten-fold," Jack said, smiling at her eagerness. "I wanted to make sure that you didn't have any qualms with your money being put in such a venture?"

"Not at all," Meredith said, unsure. "I trust you, Mr. Archer."

The words were hardly any grand declarations, especially since it concerned money that she had wholeheartedly trusted with Jack, but it made him pause. In fact, all three of them were staring at Meredith as though she had just said something outrageous. She knew why of course. Sarah had never known Meredith to trust anyone, not since her failed marriage and, while she was sure Sarah had shared some of her history with Simon, she wasn't sure how much, except that he too knew she distrusted all men.

All men, except apparently Jack.

"If you'll excuse me," Meredith said rather quickly, nodding her head as she went. "I've a lesson to attend to at the moment."

"Of course," Simon said as she walked past Jack.

"Good day, Mr. Archer."

"Good day."

She was up the stairs and down the hallway, halfway to the nursery before she let herself rest against a wall. Breathing deeply, she wondered why she had said something so telling to a room full of people. People she knew, but still, she hadn't felt so revealed in years. And why did Jack's presence seemed to affect her so?

The images that were suddenly passing through her mind made her cheeks flush. Something about Jack Archer made her feel electric, almost as if every cell in her body was set on edge and hummed when he was close. It was most unnerving and yet even as she hurried out of the parlor, she was eager to feel it again.