Chapter 9

CHAPTER

a

9

J ackson stood on the rear verandah at Peachtree Manor. It was a grand old house, three stories high, with large window and spacious parlors. He suspected it had been a terrific spot for a girl to grow up, and there was definitely nothing about it that was similar to the places where he'd been raised.

His father had been a gambler, so they'd never belonged anywhere. They'd rented rooms in boarding houses and hotels, and occasionally descended to even more base circumstances. It meant Jackson's life had been yanked up and down, as if he'd been tied to a dangling string, with his entire existence dependent on Cedric's luck at the card tables.

He hated that Arthur had sold Peachtree out from under Theo, and he wished he might someday be rich enough to buy it back for her. It was a strange desire for him to harbor. He could barely keep Cedric and Lola clothed and fed, so he was in no condition to be generous to a young lady he'd only just met. If he ever had any extra funds, they would be used to repair Thornhill. That had to be his main motivation, and after his health improved, he'd begin to focus on it a little more seriously.

His fortunes were changing; he could feel it in his bones. With Arthur losing so frequently, Jackson was about to receive enormous profits. In a few weeks, he'd be able to accomplish all sorts of tasks he'd assumed would take forever.

Supper was over and he was enjoying a solitary interval all to himself. A dozen people had been in attendance for the meal, various Cronenworth relatives who'd come for the Ralston festival. They were inside, drinking and chatting, and someone was plunking out tunes on the pianoforte.

He'd been an earl for the better part of a year, but it was still unsettling to discover how he was treated when his status was revealed. In the past, he'd simply been an ordinary soldier. Now, he was a member of a tiny group of very powerful men, and those in the lower classes bowed down as if he'd been altered into a god.

Arthur's mother, Georgina, had been the worst. She'd cooed over him to such an extent that it had become embarrassing. Her twin sister, Gertrude, had been just as annoying, but he'd calmly accepted their fawning and flattery. Theo had mostly ignored him, which had probably been for the best. If they'd interacted, he couldn't have concealed his burgeoning affection.

A bit earlier, she'd slipped outside, so his trek to the verandah was caused by her escaping the soiree. He was ready to depart, but he was suffering from a desperate need to talk to her privately. If he didn't manage a conversation, the whole evening would have been a complete waste of time.

At the same juncture, he was in no hurry to head to Owl's Nest. Before he'd left for Peachtree, he and Lola had quarreled. The foolish shrew had presumed that—as his purported fiancée—she was included in the invitation to supper. They wallowed in the demimonde with cads and slatterns, and they were deviants who never judged others, so she conveniently forgot that her liaison with Jackson shocked normal consciences.

It was deranged for her to have imagined she could waltz into Peachtree on his arm, especially with the Cronenworth sisters deeply involved in the Matron's Brigade. They harassed fallen women like Lola, and they were so delighted by their cruel efforts that they'd bragged about it at the dining table. Apparently, they'd believed Jackson would be impressed by how they tormented defenseless actresses.

Throughout their lengthy diatribe, Jackson had been choking on the fact that their dearest Arthur was madly in love with and financially supporting an opera dancer. How, precisely, did his illicit amour fit in with the Brigade's goals?

Lola had complained so adamantly about accompanying him that he'd been aggravated beyond his limit. He had to decide on a new situation for her. Once he shook off his lackadaisical malaise, he would toss her over, and he'd finally have some peace and quiet.

A door opened behind him, and he was afraid it might be Georgina or Arthur hoping to accost him, so he went down into the garden. It was well-tended, with groomed paths, trimmed bushes, and colorful flowerbeds. Lamps had been lit and were hanging from poles so it was easy to stroll.

Without too much searching, he found Theo. She was seated on an isolated bench under a rose arbor. It reminded him of their previous rendezvous, in the small plot at his town house. This garden was much bigger and much nicer.

"Hello, Theodora," he said. "Here we are again, with no one around to make us behave. What do you suppose might happen?"

"You shouldn't have snuck out to be with me. My family is on the premises, so I'm not about to engage in any mischief."

"You're not? Are you sure about that?"

He sauntered over, and her expression was wary, as if he were a wolf about to gobble her up. He had to admit that, in her presence, he felt like a feral animal. For no reason he could discern, she stirred a bizarre number of wild impulses, and he couldn't control any of them.

He plopped down next to her and he dipped in and kissed her. It wasn't passionate, but quick and friendly. Briefly, she allowed the embrace, then she lurched away and jumped to her feet. She would have stomped off, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

His grip wasn't all that tight, so she could have jerked away, but he noticed she didn't put up much of a fuss. He tugged her toward him and she staggered back down. She was nestled very close, her body crushed to his, but her gorgeous blue eyes were shooting daggers.

"Are you insane?" she demanded. "You can't just strut up and kiss me! What if someone had seen you?"

"I don't care if these dreadful people see us. Do you?"

"They're my kin, and despite how recklessly I carry on with you, I'm a very modest, very decent female. It's ridiculous for me to comport myself so outrageously. You push me to disgrace myself and I can't keep you at bay. What is wrong with me?"

He didn't reply, but said, "It sounds as if congratulations are in order."

She was confused by the comment. "Congratulations for what?"

"From what I heard at supper, you're getting married in September. That's what was announced anyway when all those toasts were being raised."

She scoffed and waved away his words. "I have no idea what's come over Arthur. After years of blatant indifference to matrimony, he suddenly suggested we proceed immediately. I don't understand what's driving him and I never agreed to it. Before I could prevent it, he'd picked a date and crowed about it to his mother. She was so ecstatic that I didn't have the heart to disappoint her."

He was relieved to learn that she wasn't keen to forge ahead. When Georgina had boasted about the wedding, Jackson had barely been able to hide his astonishment. He didn't want Theo to be Arthur's bride—or anyone else's for that matter—but it was an absurd attitude to have.

He didn't live in a fantasy world. Women wed to save themselves, to guarantee they received a husband's fiscal support, to have a husband's name and protection. Of course Theo should marry, as soon as she could manage it, and if the spouse she chose was Arthur Cronenworth, it wasn't any of Jackson's business.

Yet he couldn't help but be alarmed over the prospect. Should he speak up about Arthur's genuine proclivities? Should he dissuade her? Should he drench her with a heavy dose of the unvarnished truth?

Would that be cruel? Would it be improper to interfere? He had a selfish wish to have her for his very own, but with no proposal extended. If Arthur was willing to march to the altar, Jackson should simply butt out.

"Will you go through with it?" he asked. "You don't appear to be very excited."

She shrugged. "If I don't wed him, what will become of me? I'm enormously vexed by that dilemma. It's not as if I have a hundred other options. Should I remain a spinster? Would that be better?"

She looked bewildered, so he kissed her again. It was the only solace he could think to supply and she grumbled and shifted away.

"Stop that," she protested.

"I can't. I enjoy it too much."

"But I'm betrothed! You're putting me in an awful position."

"You like me much more than you like him. Don't deny it."

"Maybe I do, but so what? You're a confirmed bachelor who would never shackle yourself to me instead. With that being the case, I don't believe you're entitled to offer an opinion about my circumstances."

"Could I ask you a personal question?" he said.

"No. You're much too nosy and I shouldn't furnish any private information. I'm positive you'd use it to my detriment."

He ignored her. "Your father owned HH Imports, and it seems like a successful enterprise, so he must have been wealthy."

"It is and he was."

"Why don't you have a dowry then? You ought to be parading around London and bragging about how you're a great heiress. You'd have every dandy in the kingdom lined up at your door and begging for your hand. You wouldn't have to settle for Arthur."

"My father didn't have a Will and he didn't provide for me or my sister."

"What's her name?"

"Charlotte."

"Why doesn't she reside with you?"

Theo paused, dickering over what to confide, then she said, "She's teaching at a boarding school."

"My goodness. That's quite an exotic choice. What happened to bring it about?"

He tried to wear her down with an intense stare, so she'd confess some details, but she was stubbornly silent. Eventually, she said, "It's been difficult since Father passed away. She and I have been floundering and she blames Georgina."

He suspected there were many intriguing threads to unwind in that statement, threads Theo wouldn't unravel for him, so he asked, "When did he die?"

"I was fifteen, so it was nearly a decade ago."

"Just because he didn't arrange a dowry, Georgina could have. There was nothing preventing her, was there? Have you ever wondered why she didn't?"

"I'm engaged to Arthur, so I don't need a dowry."

"That's terribly convenient, isn't it?" He didn't trust Arthur or Georgina, and if he ever learned that they'd implemented financial schemes against her, he wouldn't be surprised. He switched to a topic that was niggling at him. "If your father had no Will, how is it that Arthur is owner of the company?"

She scowled, as if it was a trick question. "I'm not clear on what occurred. There was a stipulation written down somewhere that he should be in charge if Father perished, but I was never privy to what it entailed. Father's death was unexpected, and I was a girl, so it never dawned on me that I should inquire about any issue."

Her comments annoyed Jackson. Who owned the blasted company? If Arthur hadn't inherited it from Theo's father, if he was a caretaker, then the assets weren't his to sell or sign away. If he didn't have the authority, how would Jackson recoup what he was owed?

He tamped down a smirk. Perhaps he'd have to murder Arthur after all.

"I realize you were very young when your father died," he said, "but how about now? Aren't you curious? Shouldn't you demand an accounting?"

"Actually, I just had a very unsatisfactory conversation with Arthur about this very subject. If I had my druthers, I'd like to receive an allowance and live by myself."

"You scamp! What an odd notion. Don't you like residing with Arthur and his mother?"

"No. It's always been hard."

"What was his response? Will he bestow the funds you requested?"

"No. He told me I was being a nuisance and that, if I moved out, people would gossip and assume he couldn't support me."

Jackson cringed. "Is that transpiring? Has he had some trouble?"

"No. I merely asked to look at the ledger books and it sent him into a dither. My male ancestors built that business, and Father had it thriving, but I've never been interested in it. Recently though, I've been thinking I should know more about it. I mean, Father was very rich. Why haven't I benefited?"

"If you studied the ledgers, would you understand them? Or could you retain an accountant who could study them for you?"

Like the disloyal fiend he was, he was debating whether he should offer to pay for one. That way, he'd be able to glean details about Arthur's fiscal condition. Yet he hated to deceive her more than he already was, so he didn't suggest it.

"I don't have the money," she said, "but I don't necessarily need to delve into the workings of the company. Lately, I've been feeling trapped, and I'd like to make some changes, but I can't if my purse is empty. Arthur heard how I've been chafing and it spurred him to insist we marry right away."

"If you're not cautious, you might wind up as his wife. If you had parents, they'd investigate him. They'd have bookkeepers and lawyers pour over his financial reports. You don't have a parent, so you should consider having someone do it for you." He paused, then said, "I've never asked about your mother. Could she commence an analysis? Would that be possible?"

What answer would she supply? He remembered Cedric's hideous admission that he'd had a dalliance with her mother and that it had ended with her abandoning her husband and children. It was a shameful history, but exactly the kind of antic his father had pursued in his wilder days as a gambler and roué.

After weighty reflection, she ultimately said, "My mother is deceased."

"Since when? How old were you?"

"I don't know."

He blanched. "How could you not know?"

She appeared to be embarrassed. "If I tell you, you have to promise you won't pester me about it. We never talk about the incident and I have no desire to palaver over what occurred."

"This sounds serious. What happened to her?"

"When I was six and Charlotte was five, Mother ran away with a paramour. We simply got up one morning and she was gone. We never saw her again."

Jackson sat very still. Lest he give away his prior knowledge of the debacle, he was afraid to move a muscle. Finally, when he could control his expression, he said, "Who was the fellow who lured her away? Did you ever find out?"

"No. My father refused to ever discuss it. It was a very public scandal and he was extremely humiliated by it. We were forbidden to ever mention her name, so we whispered about her when we were by ourselves. Years later, and very much out of the blue, he blithely announced that she'd perished in France."

It wasn't the story Cedric had told. He was of the opinion that she'd been locked in a British convent or asylum. Jackson wondered what the truth might be, but he didn't dare pry. He didn't want her to realize his connection to the terrible event.

"Were you ever apprised of how and when she died" he asked.

"No, and it was very traumatic for us to learn about it. Charlotte and I had harbored a childish expectation that she'd come home someday. We never fully recovered from it."

He cradled her cheek in his palm. "I'm so sorry to have inquired about this. It's obvious that I've distressed you."

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It was a long time ago and I try not to think about it too much."

"I'm betting that's a lie. You must ponder it constantly."

"It definitely imbued me with some peculiar traits."

He grinned. "What are some of them? Tell me."

"Well, I'm frequently anxious and I worry about being left alone or being left behind. I always feel as if the sky is about to fall and crush me and I'm always desperately concerned about the future."

"That's understandable."

"But don't mind me. I'm being ridiculously maudlin and my life is fine."

He didn't believe that for a second. She was imperiled every minute by Arthur's recklessness, but she had no clue of what was really approaching. She was right to worry. She was right to be anxious.

Should he confide about his gambling with Arthur? How could he?

Arthur owed him a fortune, and Jackson had no doubt—should he confess the situation—she'd blame him rather than Arthur. Arthur was addicted to wagering and his negligence wasn't Jackson's fault. Nor was Jackson his nanny.

It would annoy him to be chastised so, once again, he bit his tongue. Would he ever inform her? Would he ever warn her? At the moment, he couldn't decide what was best, so he didn't decide.

Her embarrassment had increased and he chuckled to make light of her tale.

"You've just clarified why you're so odd," he said.

"I'm not odd. I'm exotic and unusual."

"If you say so."

She surprised him by snuggling close and burying her face at his nape. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

"I'm often so frightened," she murmured. "I hate to seem weak in your eyes, but I guess I'm not as strong or as tough as I like to imagine."

"You're tough, Theo. You're a fighter, so don't denigrate yourself to me. I won't listen."

They were frozen in place and he catalogued every precious detail. He couldn't recollect an occasion when he'd had such an emotional encounter with a female. His relationships were normally more rough-and-tumble. He fraternized with doxies who were brash and unrepentant, and as a result, he avoided suffering poignant episodes.

If he stumbled into one, it was because a paramour complained that he wasn't as attached as she'd like him to be. Whenever that type of dreadful conversation arose, he was down the road in a flash. He never grew fond, so he was bewildered by the sentiments that were roiling him.

He yearned to swear that he'd protect her. He wanted to bind himself, to utter promises he would never keep, and he didn't open his mouth, for he was terrified that the wrong words would flow out.

He couldn't predict how their discussion might have concluded, but he was saved from foolishness by Arthur calling to him from over on the verandah.

She eased away and said, "Your fawning admirers are looking for you. You should probably head inside."

"What about you? What will you do?"

"I'll dawdle until you've left, then I'll creep in a rear door and sneak up to bed."

"Will you be at the fair on Friday night?" he asked. "We have a date to dance under the stars on the village green."

"I'm counting on it."

"I'm returning to the city on Monday," he told her. "When will you be back?"

"I'm staying at Peachtree for two weeks."

"I have to see you once you're home. How can we arrange it?"

She studied him forever, then sighed. "You're being absurd about this. You know we can't socialize. It's a deranged notion."

"I've always been deranged, so how could I suggest any other kind of idea?"

She leaned in and hugged him, whispering, "You make me happy. I'm glad we met."

"I'm glad too and this isn't over."

He couldn't have described what he meant by this not being over. Was he planning a full-fledged amour? Would he dally with her while emptying Arthur's pockets? Would he jeopardize her betrothal? Would he risk having Lola discover that he was enamored? She was a covetous shrew. Could he bear to stir that sort of controversy?

He couldn't explain what he intended, but it felt as if something remarkable was supposed to happen between them, and he couldn't break off their strange friendship until he learned what it was.

"Get going," she said as she drew away.

"I can't wait ?til Friday." Like the most besotted swain, he added, "I'll miss you."

"Go!" she sternly muttered.

He winked, then he stood and marched away. He sauntered across the garden to the verandah, and Arthur was standing there, searching the grounds to locate him.

Jackson climbed the stairs as Arthur said, "Mother sent me to check on you. We were afraid you were lost in the shrubbery."

As his response, Jackson said, "I'll loaf at Owl's Nest for the weekend, then Monday morning, I'll depart for town. I'll expect you to visit me Tuesday afternoon with a concrete strategy for how you'll pay me. Don't imagine you can avoid the appointment. Don't force me to track you down or you'll regret it."

If Arthur had a reply, Jackson didn't hear it. He pushed by the frivolous, negligent fiend and continued into the house. Georgina was watching for him and he went up to her and said, "I'm leaving, Mrs. Cronenworth. Please have my carriage harnessed."

"Can't you tarry for a bit and play some cards?"

"I have another party to attend this evening."

The butler had already motioned for a footman to fetch the vehicle, then he handed Jackson his cloak and hat.

"Thank you for coming," she said, fluttering with worry that they'd upset him.

They had upset him. He didn't like any of them, except for Theo, so he was extremely annoyed, but he wasn't about to tell her so.

"There's no need to escort me out," he said. "I can find my own way. Goodnight."

He stomped off and followed the footman to the stables, and he dawdled in silence as his carriage was prepared. It wasn't that far to Owl's Nest, and if his leg had been in a better condition, he could have walked there, but some things couldn't be helped, and he'd long-since ceased to curse his injury. He had a lame leg and it was a fact he couldn't alter.