Mad Jack

by Catherine Coulter

  He took another bite of Mr. Potts’s Shropshire pudding. Mr. Potts had been generous with the brandy. His tongue was nearly numb. “I don’t want your damned gratitude, Jack.” He folded his hands over his stomach. “I guess you won’t understand this, but I’ll tell you anyway. Gratitude from a woman crushes a man, particularly if the man is her husband.”

  “That’s unfortunate, because you’ve got it for life. I would be a very strange sort of person if I didn’t feel gratitude. My intent is not to crush you, Gray. Now, what do you want to say to Sir Henry?”

  He sat forward, shoved his plate aside. “Will you trust me on this, Jack?”

  “Only if I can give you a gun.”

  He shook his head even as he laughed. “Yes, give me a gun and then leave me alone with your stepfather. I have a plan, but I doubt it would work with you in the room. It’s my only plan, there is no alternative plan waiting in the wings that would include the both of us. Now, will you trust me?”

  “All right, but I’ll be worried until I know you’re safe and sound with me again.”

  He rose, walked to her, and took her hand. “Come along. I’ll go back up to Georgie with you, then I want you to get some sleep. I’ll come to you when I’m through with your stepfather.”

  “I’m worried,” she said. “You just don’t know him as well as I do. He’s capable of anything.”

  He kissed her ear. “Give me a chance to deal with him, Jack. Trust me.”

  Dolly was wrapping Georgie in another hot towel. The nursery smelled foul. Gray wanted to open windows but knew it wouldn’t be wise. He also knew if he had to sleep in this room, he’d get ill just from the smells.

  Thirty minutes later Georgie was tucked once more into another hot towel and lying on a pallet in front of the fireplace in the Oak Room, a corridor’s length from the nursery.

  “Yes,” Jack said, “this was a splendid idea, Gray. Now if she wakes up I’ll be right here to help her. I won’t have to worry.”

  He left Jack sitting on the floor beside her sleeping sister, her arms wrapped around her knees. He’d kissed her left ear, lightly stroked his fingers over her neck, then turned to leave. “Don’t forget your gun,” she called out after him. He was thoughtful as he left the Oak Room. He’d never before in his life had someone be concerned specifically about him. No one. He realized it made him feel very good, made him feel as though he was very important in another person’s life—and indeed he was.

  He found Sir Henry in his library, drinking brandy, waiting.

  “She’s still alive?”

  “Yes,” Gray said. “She wasn’t ever in any immediate danger. Apparently you panicked, Sir Henry, but no matter. I’m glad that Jack and I were able to get here so quickly. Dr. Brace is pleased and sees a complete recovery.”

  Sir Henry grunted at that, then steepled his fingertips and began tapping them together. “And you, my lord? Are you pleased as well?”

  Gray shrugged and studied a fingernail. “The child has as much worth to me as she does to you.”

  “According to Dr. Brace, you sped her recovery immensely, perhaps even saved her life, since she hadn’t managed to expel the liquid from her lungs on her own.”

  “Jack expected me to do something. The little girl will be fine now. When I take Jack from her in a couple of days, she won’t be bowed by grief.”

  Sir Henry was staring into the fire, a sullen blaze. He said finally, “I realize now that Winifrede fooled me quite thoroughly, pretending she didn’t care about Georgina. Ah, but that wasn’t at all true, was it? I didn’t realize until last night just how much she loves the child.” Sir Henry paused, then picked up a quill from his desktop and said, “Don’t you want to please your bride, my lord?”

  Gray raised a sleek blond brow. “Please her? She’s my wife. That should provide her with more than enough pleasure.”

  “No, you misunderstand me. She wants the child with her. I would imagine you would have to drag Winifrede from her if you refused her the child. What do you think about that?”

  “I certainly don’t mind if Jack wishes to visit the child once or twice a year. Doubtless in six months or so I will be sated enough to allow her to be away from me for a week or so.”

  Sir Henry flushed. Gray knew he wasn’t mistaken, even though the candlelight wasn’t all that bright. “What do you mean, ‘sated’?”

  “I mean,” Gray said, rubbing his finger over his signet ring, “that Jack is a lovely girl. I’m enjoying her youth and her innocence. In six months or so, she will have nothing new to offer me. Thus she can come here to visit.”

  The library was suddenly much darker, and airless. It was difficult to breathe—the air was so thick. Gray looked at his boots. His valet Horace was a genius with boots. He could still see his reflection quite clearly even though it had been three days since Horace had nurtured them with his secret recipe. He waited, something he did well but didn’t like to do. Sir Henry seated himself behind a mammoth mahogany desk, leaning back so far that his head was nearly touching the bookcase behind him. He was still holding the quill, threading it through his fingers.

  “Mrs. Finch doesn’t like Georgina,” Sir Henry said at last.

  “Surely that isn’t terribly important.”

  “I’m planning on marrying her. She doesn’t want that pathetic little scrap as a stepdaughter.”

  “Ah.”

  “Ah, what? Damn you?”

  “It isn’t my concern, thank God. Now, I imagine that Jack won’t wish to leave until she’s certain her sister will indeed be all right. We will see you in the morning, Sir Henry.”

  Gray nodded and quickly let himself out of the library. He’d planted only a few seeds, watered them only a bit. But all in all, it appeared that Sir Henry wanted to be rid of the child more than he wanted revenge against Jack. He imagined that if Mrs. Finch weren’t in the foreground of the picture, it would be quite a different scene. Now he’d wait a bit, give Sir Henry an opportunity to come to him. Yes, the gift of Mrs. Finch was unexpected, and quite a stroke of luck.

  He was whistling as he stepped into the hallway. Jack was on him in an instant, silent as a shadow, slamming her fists into his chest, kicking his shins, her breath harsh and low, saying not a word.

  He managed to grab her hands and force them to her sides. He kept his voice low and said right into her face, “Jack, what the devil is the matter with you? Jack, dammit, stop trying to kill me. What are you doing here?”

  “You bastard,” she said, breathing so hard she was wheezing. She went on her toes and bit his neck. He nearly yelled, but managed at the last minute to hold it in. The last thing he wanted was Sir Henry flying out here to gape at them.

  “You miserable bastard. I should have known you were like all the other men in this benighted world. I hate you, Gray, I hate you.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to him. He leaned down and kissed her ear. She was trembling she was so angry. “How much did you hear?” he whispered into the same ear he’d kissed.

  “Bastard.”

  “I suppose you came down because you were afraid that Sir Henry would stab me in the gullet?”

  “Yes—I wish he would have.”

  “Jack, I’m your husband. Didn’t you tell me that you trusted me? Just thirty short minutes ago? Up in the Oak Room? Didn’t you swear that you trusted me?”

  “I was wrong.”

  He squeezed her more tightly. “Let’s find some privacy. I don’t want Sir Henry to come out and witness this. He’s not stupid, Jack. Now, for the moment, I’ve got him right where I want him. Actually, he put himself right where we want him. Come along, Jack, let’s go upstairs.”

  “Bastard.”

  He whistled all the way up the stairs.

  She turned every few steps, shook her fist in his face, and continued with her refrain. “Bastard.”

  He pulled her into the Oak Room. She immediately jerked away from him and walked over to Georgie’s pallet. She
went down on her knees and lightly touched her palm to the child’s forehead. She sat back on her heels. She said, not turning to face him, “I won’t leave Georgie.”

  “No, naturally you won’t.”

  She jumped to her feet and ran back at him. He managed to snag her wrists in midair. “What do you mean you won’t want me after six months?”

  He pulled her against him and kissed her closed mouth. She nearly bit him, but he was fast. He held her so tightly against him that he could feel the small tremors in her body. “Ah,” he whispered in her ear, “your innocence and youth. An erotic and seductive combination.”

  “But not for longer than six months. Then I’ll be old and used up and you’ll be bored with me and not mind a bit if I leave you for weeks at a time.”

  “Jack, at the rate we’re proceeding with the physical part of our marriage, I daresay you won’t be used up and ready to leave for a good twenty years.”

  “Why are you laughing at me? I heard what you said to my stepfather. You don’t want me and you certainly don’t want Georgie. You said you’d be sated.”

  “You’re wrong about that.”

  “Bastard.”

  He scooped her up in his arms and tossed her onto the bed, then followed her down. “No, don’t yell at me, you’ll disturb your sister. Just lie there and give me a magnificent frown.” He kissed her, moving quickly when she tried to bite him again.

  He pulled her arms over her head, holding her wrists against the pillow. “Tell me something, Jack. What do you want more than anything in the world?”

  “Georgie.”

  He nodded. “Good.” He waited. She said nothing. “No ‘bastard’ for me?”

  Her eyes were narrowed and mean as she said slowly, “I’m considering this carefully. It will take me a while to go back over your conversation with my stepfather and filter out all my anger at you.”

  “Please do.”

  Suddenly her frown washed away. She actually smiled up at him, then stared at him in wonder. “Goodness, Gray, you’re the shiftiest man I’ve ever met. You’re trolling in very deep waters. You’re playing as low a villain as Sir Henry.”

  “It took you long enough to recognize my great acting skills. However, I think what will really set everything right is your stepfather’s desire to marry Mrs. Finch. She doesn’t want Georgie, you see, and thus any revenge against us hasn’t got a top ranking in Sir Henry’s brain anymore.”

  “Do you think she’s rich?”

  “If she’s not very, very rich, then Sir Henry’s a fool, despite the level of his lust.”

  “He’s wicked. He’s not a fool. I just don’t know about this lust business. Gray, you’re lying on top of me. I can feel you.”

  He closed his eyes and shuddered, unconsciously pressing his belly against hers. “Yes, I can feel you as well, Jack.” He released her and rolled to his side. She came up to face him.

  “What will you do tomorrow?”

  “I plan to have a nice talk with Darnley and Mrs. Smithers. I fancy they’ll be excellent allies. I just want to cover all the possibilities. Now, it’s late. I very much want to give you a teasing lesson, but I imagine you’ll forget yourself and attack my poor manly self. We can’t let that happen, Georgie’s here. No, just sleep tonight, Jack.”

  Gray said nothing more to Sir Henry about his daughter for the next two days.

  Jack spent most of her time with her stepsister. Georgie improved steadily. She was a tough little button. The first time Gray saw her awake, in the clear light of day, he blinked. Jack had just pulled her out of her bathing tub and wrapped her in a towel, and was drying her in front of the window. Gray paused a moment until she was finished. She was humming softly, kissing the child’s nose every so often. He watched her run her fingers through Georgie’s black hair, smoothing out the tangles. “There now, pumpkin, very nearly dry. But we don’t want to take any chances with you. Let’s go over to the fire and let your hair dry there.”

  Gray came closer and blinked again. Georgie had one bright blue eye and one gold eye.

  No, surely he was mistaken. Different colored eyes—that made no sense. He took a step closer. The little girl stared back at him.

  21

  JACK LOOKED up to see him. She grew very quiet. She squeezed her sister closer. “It doesn’t make her bad,” Jack said, all fierce and protective, but at the same time keeping her voice low and smooth so Georgie wouldn’t be upset. He didn’t know anyone else who could have managed to do that. “It doesn’t make her evil, or a tool of the devil, or anything foolish like that. I don’t care if a vicar once denounced her as an outcast from hell. He was a malicious idiot. I would have killed him if I’d had the chance. She’s beautiful and very smart.” She kissed her little sister’s temple. “Ah, pumpkin, that bath tired you down to your little toes, didn’t it? It doesn’t matter, you did very well. You just nap now for a while, nice and warm in front of the fire.”

  Surprisingly, the child did just that, once Jack had wrapped her in blankets, smoothed her hair out around her head, and lightly patted her face.

  Gray motioned her back toward the window. He said quietly, “Jack, when I was with your stepfather and Mrs. Finch that first meeting, she said something about Georgie’s dying being for the best. Did she mean that just because she has eyes of different color?”

  “Wicked, awful woman,” Jack said. “Yes, she had to mean that. Sir Henry also believes Georgie is mentally deficient just because her eyes don’t match.”

  Gray said slowly, smiling toward that small, very beautiful child, “I imagine that when she grows up she will have her pick of just about every eligible bachelor in London. She’s beautiful, Jack, just beautiful. And unique, just like her stepsister.”

  Jack let out a very low, very undignified squeak and hurled herself at him. He was laughing quietly even as she knocked him backward onto the bed and landed flat on top of him. She kissed his face, stopping only when she heard Georgie say, “Freddie, w-w-ho is that m-m-an? W-w-why are y-y-you hurting h-him?”

  Jack rolled off him and quickly came down onto the floor. She gathered her sister into her arms, blankets and all. “He’s my husband, sweetie. I swear I’m not hurting him. We were just playing. He made me laugh, you see. Now, since I’m married to him, that makes him your brother. His name is Gray. He saved your life. He’s nice.”

  Georgie peered at Gray over Jack’s shoulder. “G-Gray? That’s a c-color, not a n-n-n—”

  “It’s a name too. Now, let me comb my fingers through your hair and make you a bit more presentable. First impressions are very important. Yes, let’s straighten that cute bow on your nightgown. There, you’re the prettiest little girl in all of England, Georgina. Make your curtsy to Gray.”

  The little girl bent slightly in Jack’s arms and gave him a very small smile.

  “Hello, Georgie. Do you know something? I have a comb. Now, your sister did try to straighten your hair, but you’re still not quite ready to see the queen. Would you come to me and let me comb your hair?”

  Georgie sent an agonized look to Jack. “He’s never offered to comb my hair, Georgie. I think we should let him try it first on you. What do you say?”

  “I-I don’t k-k-know, Freddie. L-lots of tangles.”

  After a good deal of laughter and coaxing, Georgie was seated on Gray’s lap and he was combing the tangles out of her hair with both a small comb and his fingers, all the while delivering a monologue designed to entertain her.

  “And after this tangle, I’ll go west where there’s a whole nest of them, trying to hide in the shadow of your little ear. If I were a very small little animal, I’d be afraid of falling into that nest, it’s so well hidden. I’d be lost forever and starve because nobody could find me and feed me.”

  Georgie laughed. Her throat was still on the raw side, but it was nonetheless a sweet child’s laugh and very nearly normal.

  “How do you know what to do?” Jack asked him, sitting down on a small stool beside the
m.

  He studied a knot of hair, then untangled it with his fingers. “You met Ryder Sherbrooke very briefly the morning of our wedding.”

  “Yes, I remember. What about him?”

  “Remember I told you he saves children. He’s saved children since he was twenty years old. He and Jane—she’s called Jane the Directress by Sophie, Ryder’s wife—she takes care of all the children he brings to her. She told me about Jamie, the first child he brought to her. He was just a baby and someone had tossed him in a pile of garbage in an alley. Ryder saved him and brought him to Jane. That started it all. About six years ago Ryder built another house, close to his and Sophie’s in the Cotswolds. I believe there are currently about fifteen children there, of all ages. When I was visiting some time years ago, Ryder introduced me to his own daughter. He was combing her hair and she very nicely allowed me to learn how to do it. She let me practice on her.” He paused a moment, looking into a past that wasn’t at all pleasant.

  “Jenny’s mother died, but Jenny lived. She isn’t whole, mentally, but she’s the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet, Jack. Goodness, Jenny must be twelve or thirteen by now. And beautiful, just like her father.

  “Since Jenny, I’ve combed lots of little girls’ hair, even done some braiding. Now, would you like to know what Ryder told me was the most important ingredient for a marriage?”

  Jack was blinking. He realized she was crying. “Oh, no, Jack. I didn’t mean to make you weep. It’s a good story, not a sad one.”

  He pulled her against him, holding Georgie on one side, Jack on the other. “No, don’t cry. That’s right, Georgie, pat her face—maybe even pull her ear. That will make her feel better.”

  She sniffed several more times, then raised her face to his. “I saw Ryder Sherbrooke, thought he was very handsome, and believed him a charming, probably heedless rich man. I’m horrible.”