by Renee Ryan
She thought she was so clever. He knew precisely what she was about, openly challenging him to question the rules of society.
From the amusement in his grandmother’s eyes, Jackson wasn’t the only one to notice the ploy.
The floor shifted beneath his feet. Caroline St. James had gained another ally while Jackson had lost considerable ground.
Hoping to communicate his displeasure, he captured Caroline’s gaze for longer than was polite. For one insane moment he experienced a sudden urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her again. Right there in front of his mother and grandmother.
He resisted.
Barely.
Remembering himself, he broke eye contact and took his grandmother’s hand. “I will stop by tomorrow morning at our usual time.” Without looking directly at the other woman, he said, “Good night, Caroline.”
“Good night, Jackson.” She used the same intonation as he had, mocking him with her answering civility.
The tight rein he had on his control snapped. Unable to stop himself from giving in to his temper, he hauled her to her feet. “Walk me out,” he said. “I have something I wish to discuss with you in private.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“It will only take a moment.”
Without giving her a chance to argue, he pulled her out of the room.
She didn’t resist, not even a little, her wary expression communicating that she knew she’d pushed him too far.
Good. She should be wary of him.
Striding quickly through the house, he bypassed the foyer and went straight for a small alcove beneath the stairwell.
“Jackson, this isn’t necessary. You have made your point quite successfully.” Eyes wide with apprehension, she pressed herself against the back wall of the cubbyhole. “You must know I was only trying to antagonize you earlier.”
“You succeeded brilliantly.” He stepped into the shadows with her, braced his hands on either side of her. “Maybe it’s time you learned what happens when you push a man to his limit.”
“I . . . I don’t think this is a good idea. Maybe we should—”
He cut off the rest of her words by pressing his lips to hers.
As if she’d been expecting the move, she gripped his lapels and . . . pulled him closer.
Her unexpected reaction sent his control slipping all the more. He furiously tried to remember that he was a man of integrity, one who lived by the solid Christian precepts of behavior, a man who honored women, who protected them from . . . this.
He had to pull back, had to stop kissing Caroline right this very minute. He had to remember he wasn’t his father.
Fighting for the last remnants of his control, Jackson yanked his head back. He dragged air into his lungs, one hard gulp at a time.
Even with the shadows curtaining her face, he could tell his behavior had stunned Caroline. Though she didn’t appear entirely upset about this turn of events.
The woman made him crazy. She made him act completely out of character. And, God have mercy on his soul, he liked the sensation. Liked it enough to know he’d completely lost his mind.
What had he gotten himself into?
What had she gotten herself into?
That’s the thought that ran through Caroline’s mind as she stared up at Jackson. He was breathing as hard as she, gasping for air as though his life depended upon it. The wall sconces in the foyer illuminated him from behind, casting him in a halo of light. Ha. The man was no angel. And Caroline was starting to like that most about him.
From the start, she’d underestimated him. As had Elizabeth. For her cousin’s sake, Caroline must send Jackson on his way.
“Weren’t you leaving?”
“Caroline.” His gaze softened, his voice thickened, and he was making it very difficult for her to remember that he didn’t belong to her. “I’m not usually such a brute.”
“Only when you’re around me.”
He speared a hand through his hair, the gesture leaving the thick tufts slightly disheveled. It was a good look for him, one that matched the hint of wildness in his eyes. “Apparently, I am at my worst in your company.”
If that was his worst, she couldn’t imagine what he was like at his best.
She had no right to think such things.
“You should go,” she whispered.
“Yes.” His hand reached for her, as if of its own accord, then slid back to his side. “Will I see you at the VanDercreeks’ party later this week?”
“As I will be attending the small, private party as my grandfather’s personal guest, yes, I’ll be there.”
“Then I’ll say good-bye.” He placed his palm on her cheek. “Good-bye, Caroline.”
She leaned into his hand. “Good-bye, Jackson.”
He turned to go, then spun back around. “I know you do it to annoy me, but I like the way you say my name in that street urchin accent.”
Before she could shove him away for his impertinence, he withdrew from the alcove and walked to the exit without a backward glance.
With her fingertips pressed to her lips, she stared after his retreating form.
That man. Oh, that infuriating, honorable man who’d borne his own share of family burdens. Why did she have to know that about him? Why did she have to care?
Dropping her hand to her side, she slumped against the wall behind her. Trouble. Jackson was turning out to be trouble, and not in any way she could have conceived.
“Miss St. James.” Her grandmother’s butler peeked into the alcove. “Dinner is being served in the main dining room.”
She rose to her full height and snapped her shoulders back. “I must have lost track of time.”
“Yes, miss, that happens rather often in this house.”
That response made her smile. “Where, exactly, is the main dining room?”
“Down that hallway.” He indicated the corridor to her left. “Third door on the right.”
In silent defiance, or perhaps to prove she was still the same Caroline she’d always been, she looked the man straight in the eye and smiled brighter. “Thank you, Burke.”
“You are welcome, Miss St. James.” He returned her smile. “Might I say, miss, it’s a pleasure having you with us.”
She touched his arm in a moment of solidarity, then set off in the direction he’d indicated. She entered the room in time for Jackson’s mother’s next complaint.
“Really, Granny, cranberries? You chose to serve cranberries when you know I cannot tolerate them.”
Seemingly unmoved by the woman’s hard tone, Granny lifted an elegant shoulder. “Eat around them, Lucille.” She smiled up at Caroline. “Please, my dear, take your seat.”
Caroline settled in the chair opposite Jackson’s mother. Had Granny not shared the story of her husband’s desertion Caroline might have been less likely to put up with the woman’s incessant criticizing of every little detail of the meal. But now that she knew the source of Lucille Montgomery’s discontent, Caroline simply smiled and nodded.
“I trust Jackson got off all right?” Granny asked.
“He did.”
Not to be ignored, Lucille entered the conversation with a snarl. “What was so important that he couldn’t speak in front of his own mother and grandmother?”
“Yes, dear, what did the boy want with you?” Granny’s eyes sparkled in a way that said she knew exactly what the boy had wanted from Caroline.
She contemplated telling them both that he’d kissed her until her eyes had nearly rolled back in her head. But that would be pandering at best, petty at worst. Caroline was not in the business of hurting people intentionally, not even a confounding gentleman who couldn’t seem to remember he was supposed to be courting Caroline’s cousin.
“Jackson wanted to discuss our schedule next week. It seems I’m to spend part of my time inspecting the tenement houses with him.”
She didn’t know if that was true or not, but now that the idea had surfaced she wonder
ed why she couldn’t make that happen. The tenement buildings were where she’d first met Jackson, where she’d witnessed the portion of his personality no one but she knew existed. Now that they knew each other’s secrets, it seemed fitting they should begin her business education on the Lower East Side.
Best of all, she would get another opportunity to see Mary.
“I wasn’t aware Jackson made a habit of inspecting the tenement houses.” His mother’s voice held decided disapproval.
Caroline pretended grave interest in smoothing her napkin across her lap. It was either that or say something she would regret. An arm reached around her and set a plate in front of her.
Tired of pretending she was someone she was not, she lifted her eyes to the server before he retreated. “Thank you,” she said.
His eyes widened at her boldness, and he quickly looked away, evidently embarrassed by the brief interchange.
Caroline performed a mental shrug. One step at a time. Looking up, she noted two pairs of eyes staring at her from opposite ends of the table. Both appeared shocked at her behavior. Oh, for goodness’ sake. She hadn’t done anything wrong or criminal or even immoral. She’d simply thanked a man for serving her a dish of soup.
She sighed. Did no one but Caroline think the rules of upper-class society were utterly ridiculous?
At least Granny seemed more amused than condemning. Sensing a supporter in the older woman, Caroline cleared her throat and brought up a completely different topic. “I saw you have a well-stocked library on the second floor.”
Granny set down her spoon. “It was my husband’s pride and joy. Jackson has kept the titles current.”
“Has he?” Caroline leaned forward, her food all but forgotten. “How wonderful.” Excitement made her voice shake. Not just a library filled with old books, but new ones, too. Oh, the joy.
“Jackson has been diligent in his duty,” Granny said. “He adds important works as they become available. A library must keep up with the changing times, don’t you agree?”
“I do.”
Jackson’s mother sniffed indelicately. It was not an attractive sound. “How very progressive of you both.”
Granny ignored the jab. “Jackson spends hours up there when he can find the time.”
Another thing they had in common. She could envision them in the library at night, reading, a fire crackling in the hearth, a comfortable silence filling the space between them.
She shook away the fanciful thought. “Would you mind if I explored the contents of the shelves myself? I won’t take any book beyond the library, but if I could read one or two”—or ten—“I would be in your debt.”
Again, Granny gave her that look of approval. “You may enjoy the library anytime you wish.”
“Thank you, Granny. I—” She clasped the older woman’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”
Conversation turned to the unseasonably warm weather, whereupon Jackson’s mother began another listing of complaints.
Deciding it was best to remain silent on the matter, Caroline focused on her food. Her mind took her upstairs, to the library full of books she had yet to read. It would take her a lifetime to work her way through all the choices available. What should she read first? A biography? A travel story? An adventure tale, perhaps?
“Now, my dear, do tell.” Granny’s voice wove through her thoughts, bringing her back to the table. “Have you decided what you will wear to the VanDercreeks’ party? It will be somewhat of your official debut as Richard’s granddaughter.”
Caroline hadn’t thought of the party in quite that way. She would have to be careful with her choice. Consulting Sally would be her first order of business. For now, she admitted, “I haven’t decided yet.”
“May I add my opinion?” Granny asked.
“Please, do.”
“You should wear blue, a deep, rich shade of blue with, perhaps, ivory trim.”
Caroline had a gown that met that description. She hadn’t worn it yet, so no one at the party would have cause to criticize her choice. Elizabeth’s words came back to her. A woman of fine breeding should never be caught in the same gown twice.
Had Caroline become so much a part of this world that she was becoming a snob like Elizabeth’s mother? She shuddered at the prospect.
This wasn’t about her, she reminded herself. For her grandfather’s sake she didn’t want to draw unwanted attention her way. “I have a dress that color.”
Satisfaction filled the older woman’s gaze. “Splendid. Then that is the one you will wear.”
Granny seemed so certain that Caroline couldn’t hold back her curiosity. “Out with it, Granny. Why should I wear my blue gown?”
“I should think it quite obvious.” The gleam in the older woman’s eyes turned calculating. “Blue is Jackson’s favorite color.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jackson arrived at the Harvard Club with his mind still entrenched at his grandmother’s house. Or rather, his mind was still in the alcove in his grandmother’s house—firmly fixed on a certain raven-haired beauty with exotic green eyes, a mesmerizing voice, and a propensity to sneak beneath his well-laid defenses.
Whenever he was alone with Caroline St. James, his control slipped, every time, whereby he found himself acting out of character. Pulling her into his arms.
Kissing her.
He pushed into the foyer of the club, shoulders tense, head down. He’d worked too hard to make his life his own, had struggled too long to restore his family name to continue down this path. Ruthless discipline was the only thing keeping him in line. He was already on shaky ground. If he continued to give in to his selfish desires where Caroline was concerned, he might end up on a path from which there was no turning back.
One false step had a way of leading to another, and another, until one day Jackson would become a man no better than his father, a man who took what he wanted without considering the consequences or thinking beyond his own selfish desires.
Caroline St. James was a menace. A frustrating, annoying, beautiful, heart-stopping temptation he couldn’t seem to keep at arm’s distance. She would be his downfall if he didn’t get a handle on his renowned control.
Regardless of what his actions had shown in the last few days, Jackson still wanted a calm, respectable marriage to a calm, respectable woman whose serene manner exemplified the best of his world.
Caroline St. James was not that woman. She was the consummate rule-breaker, the absolute opposite of her cousin, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.
Jackson hadn’t thought of her since Caroline had materialized at the top of the stairs in his grandmother’s home.
In desperate need of a distraction, he strode into the billiards room and searched out a possible opponent. He found just the man at the back of the room, propping up the wall with a broad shoulder.
Jackson approached his friend. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here this evening.” He studied Luke’s scowl, wondered at it. “Shouldn’t you be at a party or the opera or some such formal event, choosing your future bride?”
Luke’s expression turned murderous. “Mind your own business, Montgomery.”
“The hunt going that well, is it?”
Clearly frustrated and spoiling for a fight, Luke shifted his stance to one full of aggression.
Jackson simply smiled.
“Word’s gotten out as to the reason behind my return.”
Jackson nodded gravely. “How’d that happen?”
Not a blink. Not even a shrug. “My father made a public announcement at the opera the other night.” Luke’s lip curled. “Now, every event I attend, I’m swarmed with women—and their calculating mothers—within minutes of arriving.”
Jackson almost felt sorry for his friend, but he remembered their days back at Harvard. Luke had never had a problem drawing female notice, nor had he turned any of that “notice” away, quite the opposite in fact. Lucian Griffin liked women—he’d never pretended otherwise—and
they liked him in return. “How is now any different than before your father’s public announcement?”
Luke gave him a hard glare, the unspoken message just as loud and clear as before. Mind your own business.
“I see.” Chuckling, Jackson craned his neck, looked side to side, then lowered his voice. “I assume you are hiding out from all that unwanted female attention?”
“Laugh if you will.” Luke shot him a smug glower. “We both know you’re here for the same reason.”
“I’m not hiding.”
Luke gave him a bland look.
“All right, maybe I am.” A table became open. Jackson jerked his head in that direction. “You want to play a game of billiards or keep propping up that wall?”
“You break first.”
Jackson shoved around Luke and made a grand show of choosing a cue stick. Hard on his heels, Luke followed suit, aiming another smug grin in his direction. “You can lie to yourself but not to me. You, my friend, are having your own woman trouble. And we both know who I mean.”
With slow, deliberate movements, Jackson rubbed chalk on the edge of his stick and then tossed the cube in the air.
Luke caught it midair. “What? No response? No ready denial?” He arranged the balls inside the wooden triangle, shuffled them tightly to the top. “No pretense that you have no idea to what woman I’m referring?”
Pretending grave interest in their game, Jackson placed the white cue ball on his end of the table, pulled back his stick, and then smacked the ball with a hard tap.
Three stripes and one solid fell into separate pockets at varying speeds.
“Perhaps you should just say what’s on your mind.” Jackson sauntered around the table, chose his next target, pointed to the far right pocket, then struck the white cue ball again. “Who, exactly, are we talking about here?”
Jackson knew, of course. But did Luke?
He lined up his next shot, missed.
His friend moved into position, opened his mouth, glanced around to see if anyone was listening, then said, “I’m talking about the woman Richard St. James has hired to work in the company office.”