by Shana Galen
She hugged him tighter. "I didn't mean it. Of course you have a heart."
He pulled back, a sneer on his lips. "You think so? You don't know me. No one ever told you that I watched my mother die and did nothing to save her, did they?"
Maddie swallowed hard but refused to pull away from him. That was what he wanted—to distance himself from her and his feelings. And yet, she knew if she were ever to understand him, ever to claim a piece of his heart, she had to break down this last defense. "Jack, I don't believe you. I do know you. You would never stand by when someone needed your help. Please, tell me what happened."
He stepped back, shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. The style the valet had spent so much time taming was instantly in disarray, sections of dark hair falling over Jack's forehead. But it was his expression that pained her the most. Had she ever seen a man with so much pain in his eyes? He looked shattered.
Maddie watched as he tried to compose his features and finally turned away from her, crossing to the window and parting the heavy burgundy draperies. The sun was bright in he sky, and the light touched Jack's dark hair, making the blue-black waves gleam.
"My mother was a lot like you," he told her. "She had all these charities and societies and benevolent works. She was always going to help this orphan or that widow." He turned and looked at Maddie, and the pain was still there. But now it was something hard and tight in the lines of his face. "Sometimes she took my brother and me along with her. She was away so much, I seldom saw her, so the opportunity to spend time with her—even in a hospital surrounded by sick people or a filthy flat housing ten people—was a treat."
Maddie could imagine Jack, a small dark-haired boy who missed his mother. Did he lie awake late at night, waiting for her to tuck him into bed? When he scraped his knee or banged his toe, did he wish she were there beside him to kiss it better?
Maddie bit her lip. When she looked at Jack now, she could see the loneliness and disappointment in his eyes. She moved closer and put her hand on his shoulder, but he turned away to stare out the window. "I didn't know, Jack."
"There's a lot you don't know," he said, voice cold. "You don't know what people are capable of. You don't know what they can do."
"What happened?" she asked quietly.
Jack blew out a puff of air. "My little brother was always in trouble. Even back then." He smiled faintly, probably remembering some mischief from the past. "I was two years older, so it was my duty to watch him, to keep him safe. One day my mother went to visit a widow. The woman lived in some seedy part of the city, near the river. I'll never forget the stench of that place. It smelled like rotting fish and decay."
Maddie knew that smell well. She'd come to associate it with poverty and sickness.
"Nick and I were told to wait in the drawing room—if you could call it that—and it was fine for a while, but then Nick started to get restless. I was tired and sick of dealing with him. I was stupid—only ten—and I didn't think. He wanted to go outside, and I couldn't blame him. Anything for fresh air. So I pretended not to see when he sneaked out the door. I figured he'd be back in a few minutes. The next thing I know my mother was shaking me awake and asking where Nick was."
Maddie wanted to hold him again, but she didn't dare. She was afraid he'd stop speaking or push her away.
One thing about her husband was becoming abundantly clear: He was always taking care of others. No wonder, as it appeared he knew little else.
"So we went to look for Nick, and we couldn't find him. We looked up and down every street, in every filthy nook and cranny. The more we looked, the more distraught my mother became. We split up, and goddamn it, I should have never left her alone."
"Jack, you were just a boy."
"No," he said, rounding on her. "I was supposed to protect her. Both of them. I failed. Oh, I found Nick, all right. He was playing dice with a bunch of boys and taking them for everything they had. He was always a good gambler. But when we went back to find my mother, she was gone. By sheer luck—if you want to call it that— we turned into a blind alley and saw her. Three men had her. Big men, and they—"
Maddie closed her eyes, nausea rising within her. Suddenly, Jack's arms were around her. He was shaking, but his voice was even.
"This isn't a story you should hear, sweetheart," he whispered into her hair. "This isn't something I want you to know, to think about."
Maddie pulled back, gazed into his eyes. "Tell me the end. Tell me what happened."
Jack's eyes went hard again, hard and far away. "I was too afraid to intervene. I was afraid they'd hurt me. I was paralyzed with fear. Nick and I hid, and we saw it all. I sat there and watched my mother raped and beaten and murdered, and I didn't do anything to stop it. Because I was too much of a bloody coward."
"No, Jack."
"I keep telling you that I stick my neck in the noose for no one. Now maybe you'll believe me."
"You were a child, a boy. Your mother would have wanted you to hide, to keep Nick safe."
"My mother would have wanted me to do something. To save her. I stood there and cried like a baby, and that was the last time I cried. I didn't weep when I told my father what had happened or at the funeral or even at the grave site. People say I have no heart." He closed his eyes, swallowed. "They're right."
His voice broke on the last word, and Maddie had to hold back tears. She took his hand, tried to hold it, but it was cold and unyielding. "They're not right, Jack. If you didn't have a heart you wouldn't have helped me, you wouldn't have risked your life so many times."
He straightened, once again in control of his emotions. "I did what I had to in order to save myself. Either that or I rushed in without thinking. Monstrous trait."
"No. You rush in because you care. You married me because you care. I won't believe you don't care about me, Jack. I know you do."
"You're my wife, and I made a commitment. Keeping you safe does benefit me, sweetheart. One day I'll need an heir." His voice was calculating, his smile cold.
Maddie shook her head. She knew he wasn't the selfish coward he tried to make everyone think he was. But he hadn't yet forgiven himself, and until he did, he would never see the brave, heroic man he'd become.
"I won't allow anything happen to you, Maddie," Jack was saying. "I'm not going to stand by while you're attacked, beaten—"
"Jack, that's not going to happen. I'll take precautions."
"You'll choose one charity and do work for them only if I am with you. The rest of the time you'll stay here, where I know you're safe. Discussion over. I have a meeting with my man of affairs in an hour, and I'm going to eat breakfast."
He crossed the room, and Maddie was right behind him. "Jack, I understand your concerns." He opened the door and walked briskly down the hallway, and she had to run to keep up with him. "But you can't lock me up."
He reached the stairs and began to descend. "I'm not locking you up. I'm keeping you safe."
"A cage is a cage," she said under her breath, so the maid polishing the marble at the base of the stairwell wouldn't hear. "Do you think that's what your mother would have wanted? To be locked away, prevented from doing what meant most to her in the world?"
Jack glared at Maddie and made a sharp turn at the bottom of the steps, heading toward the breakfast room.
"Don't you think your mother would have rather died doing something worthwhile?" Maddie said, following him, her voice rising despite herself. "If you can't see that her sacrifice meant something, then not only her life but her death was in vain."
Jack paused at the door to the breakfast room, his hand gripping the handle fiercely. "You don't know the first thing about my mother, and it's not your business, so stay out of it."
He opened the door, entered, and was immediately greeted by Ridgeley. "Good morning, my lord. Coffee? The Times?"
Maddie would have fled back to their room, but Ridgeley saw her.
"My lady." He pulled out a chair beside Jack's. "Your chair."<
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She tried to think of a way out, an excuse to run away. Instead, without looking at Jack, she took the proffered seat.
"My lord," Ridgeley was saying, "your man of affairs has arrived early, and I have taken the liberty of showing him into the library."
"Damn," Jack swore, beginning to rise from his seat.
"But before you bury your head in matters of business, my lord, I must inquire what time you would like the carriage this evening. The Prince Regent's ball begins at nine."
Maddie raised her eyebrows. "The Prince Regent's ball?"
It wasn't her first choice for an amusement, but the way things were looking, it might be her only chance to escape the confines of the town house. And perhaps the ball would give her an opportunity to show Jack that his overprotective nature was unnecessary. If he saw she wasn't in any danger and could take care of herself, he might relax.
"Yes, my lady," Ridgeley told her. "His lordship accepted the invitation some weeks ago, and I fear that, except in the case of life-threatening illness, it is too late to send regrets."
Jack glanced at her, his jaw tight.
"Is there a life-threatening illness?" Ridgeley asked. "Or shall I order the carriage for, say, half past nine?"
Maddie met Jack's gaze. "No illness, Ridgeley," she said. "By all means, order the carriage. I, for one, cannot wait to dance the night away."
Chapter Nineteen
"I don't dance," Jack informed her after they'd climbed into the carriage.
"Really?" she said, raising a brow. "That's tedious."
"I'm tedious," Jack retorted, and indeed he felt as much today. He'd spent most of the afternoon locked away with his man of affairs, going over everything the man could find out about Bleven. Jack didn't yet have the evidence to prove that Bleven was involved in his mother's murder, but from what his man had discovered, Bleven possessed opportunity and motive. The Black Duke was in Town at the time of the murder, and he made no secret how much he hated the woman who'd spurned him for another.
The work dredged up painful memories, and Jack had to force himself to continue with it.
He would have much rather spent a frivolous afternoon in bed with his wife. He could have ignored Bleven for one day, dismissed his man of affairs, and enjoyed Maddie fully. But he had the sinking suspicion that was the kind of thing a man in love did.
And he was not in love.
He liked his wife. Very much. But he wasn't in love with her, and the fact that he could resist her all but proved he wasn't going to be. Thank God he didn't have to worry about that anymore.
But he had other worries. Namely, that pink ball gown she was wearing. Jack frowned. Maddie had corrected him several times—told him the dress was not pink but rose and burgundy. He squinted at her in the carriage. The thing still looked pink to him.
The idea of what his wife would wear to the prince's ball had never even crossed his mind, nor the necessity of her sending for her clothes and other personal items from Castleigh's town house. Why would she need anything? She wasn't going anywhere—except to bed with him, and the less clothing there, the better.
But now Jack found himself preoccupied with thoughts of the rest of Maddie's clothing. Were all of her ball gowns cut like this one? Did all of her dresses nip in and accentuate the sweet curve of her waist? Did they all hug her breasts like a pair of gloves? And what about ribbons? This gown had several, and he itched to tug at them and reveal the creamy flesh beneath.
And why the hell couldn't he stop thinking about flounces and ruffles? He'd never considered women's clothing much before— except to determine the fastest way to remove it.
But he would wager his best hunter that there wouldn't be a man tonight who wasn't thinking about removing Maddie's gown.
The color brought out her smooth complexion and made her sapphire eyes seem even bluer than usual. Not that anyone but he would be looking at her eyes.
Jack narrowed his gaze at his wife's bodice. There was entirely too much of Maddie's ample bosom on display. He opened his mouth to ask where the hell her shawl was, then thought better of it. They'd already quarreled over the neckline three times that evening.
But when he'd told Maddie that the gown wasn't proper, she'd exhibited her usual stubbornness and lack of concern for safety. She acted as if all he wanted was to control her. But as with her charitable works, his interest in the dress arose because he wanted to protect her from unwanted advances.
Of course, she hadn't seen it that way. She'd told him that he was being ridiculous. She claimed to have worn the dress several times before without causing a riot and assured him that the neckline was decent, far more modest than what most ladies wore.
And she was probably right.
But he was still scowling.
"Stop frowning," Maddie said from across the carriage.
"Then take off that gown," he retorted.
She raised a brow. "What, here? Now?" She fluttered her lashes in a display of mock innocence.
Jack couldn't stop a small smile, but it faded immediately when, once again, all the possible dangers his wife might face tonight flitted through his mind. If it had been anyone other than the Prince Regent hosting this ball, he would never have agreed to make an appearance. But with everyone talking about the Blackthorne elopement, the prince would be sure to take offense if he and his new bride didn't grace Carlton House. Jack did not like Prinny, and he didn't need any more powerful enemies.
And he didn't need an evening with the simpering sycophants who surrounded the fat regent.
Jack scowled again. He and Maddie were sure to be the event's main attraction.
By the time they reached Carlton House, Jack was on edge and determined not to let her out of his sight. He wasn't going to allow her to fall prey to Bleven. As they exited the carriage and started up the stairs, he grasped her hand and muttered, "Stay close to me."
Maddie nodded absently, but upon entering, inclined her head to acknowledge several other guests. The damned woman seemed to know everyone. He had to haul her back to his side several times when she would have run off to have just a quick word with Lady This or Lord That. Finally, the interminable wait to be announced ended, and they entered the Crimson Drawing Room.
The room had been renovated in the last few years and was now swathed in crimson satin damask. From the curtains to the upholstery, everything except the light blue velvet carpet dripped red satin.
Suddenly feeling the need for a drink, Jack released Maddie for a moment to snatch a glass of champagne from a passing footman. He lifted one for her as well, and when both of his hands were occupied, she reached over and gave his arm a perfunctory pat. "I'll be back in a moment."
"Oh, no you won't."
But she was already scampering away. "Don't worry!" she called over her shoulder, chestnut ringlets bouncing down her back.
"Bloody hell." Jack downed one glass of champagne and looked for a place to set the other. He couldn't find a spot, so he downed that one, too. He could just see the top of Maddie's head as she reached the far corner of the room and embraced two women—one a tall brunette and one a thin redhead with a crop of curls.
He grabbed a footman, dropped the empty glasses on his tray, and stalked after Maddie. Obviously they needed to have another discussion about how she was not to leave his side. Or rather, he would have to lecture her again.
If he could reach her.
But the path that had cleared for Maddie swallowed him whole. Men and women surrounded him, stepping in his way and trying to engage him in inane conversation. Why the hell did they want to talk to him anyway? He sidestepped and parried but wasn't quick enough. The prince himself, metaphoric rapier raised for combat, stepped into Jack's path.
"Ah, Lord Blackthorne. You have been a naughty boy." The prince winked and his fleshy face jiggled with laughter.
Jack bowed. "Your Royal Highness. How kind of you to extend this invitation to my wife."
Prinny waved the lace handkerch
ief in his hand. "Castleigh's such an incredible bore. Apparently his daughter takes after another side of the family. Found yourself a wild one, have you?"
Jack clenched his hand, resisting the urge to punch the prince in the nose. "Our meeting was somewhat unconventional, but the lady—"
"Unconventional!" The prince gazed at the lackeys standing near him, and all burst into laughter. "Now, Blackthorne, I have heard stories about carriage chases, duels, and a muck-up at Gretna Green. You simply won't get away without revealing some details. The juicy ones, Blackthorne."
The prince's hand came down hard on Jack's shoulder, his muscles taut with apprehension. Where the devil was Maddie? He ground his teeth, "Your Royal Highness, I would love to regale you, but my wife—"
"Will wait." Prinny snapped his fingers, and the group surrounding him parted, revealing two thronelike chairs. Smiling, the prince squashed his considerable bulk into one and gestured to the other. His expression was resolute.
Jack gave one last fleeting look in the direction Maddie had fled, blew out a breath, and took his seat.
"Now," the prince began, "tell me everything."
* * * * *
"Catie! Josie!" Maddie rushed into her cousins' arms and the three spun around in happiness.
"Where have you been?" Josie cried.
"I was so worried about you!" Catie chided.
"Where's your husband?" Josie asked, looking about on tiptoes.
"And how dare you marry without us?"
Maddie, deluged by their questions, only laughed. It was so good to hear their voices again. It was so good to be wrapped in the flood of their friendship.
"How dare you marry at all," Josie added, giving the laughing Maddie a dubious look. "Poor Ashley will be the only one of our club left."
"Oh, I think it's safe to say that our little club is now quite defunct."
Catie and Josie stared at her. "Then all the rumors are true?" Josie asked. "I don't believe it."
Maddie glanced about her, decided there were too many people milling about, hoping to overhear, and grabbed her cousins' hands. She pulled them through the ornate room, through the French doors, and out onto the deserted balcony. After checking behind a potted plant nearby, she turned to them. "It's true. Ashley's married."