Jack on the Box
Page 17
“Well, man! What is it?” Sir Waldo asked impatiently. Leto woke up from a deep sleep and emitted a low growl.
Selby sniffed again, and his displeasure hung so thickly in the air one could almost touch it. Then he announced, “The young gentleman is not properly attired for an outing, sir.”
This did cause Cecily to pause, and she looked uncertainly for one moment at her grandfather. But Sir Waldo merely chuckled. “Run along, girl,” he said. “if that isn’t just like the young rascal. But I expect you to come back within the half hour,” he added, to preserve his dignity.
At those words, Cecily flew and, before many minutes had passed, found Jack standing alone by the side of his father’s curricle. There was a disturbing gleam in his eye as he bowed humbly to her and, without any remark, handed her up into his carriage. Then he jumped in and whipped the horses to a trot, and Cecily’s heart skipped a beat as she sensed the suppressed excitement in his movements. But she remained silent until they were well away from view of the manor, and only then did she turn to watch him as he handled the reins.
“Did you go to London?” Jack asked suddenly, when he sensed her eyes upon him.
“No.” Cecily flushed with embarrassment.
“To Stourport, then?”
“Once. To see that all was well and to try to restore some order. Many of the servants had been turned off, you see, and I wanted to get them back.”
Jack pulled the curricle to a stop under the shade of a large oak tree and secured the reins to the brake. Then he turned and faced her. Her breathing became more rapid as she saw the look in his eyes.
“Will you marry me?”
The suddenness of his question nearly made her swoon for the first time in her life, but she answered readily, “Yes.”
Jack let out a loud crow of laughter and took her in his arms, hugging her with pure delight. “What? No questions?” he said. “Do you not even wish to know how or where we shall live?”
Cecily pursed up her mouth as primly as she could under the circumstances and compliantly asked, “Very well, Mr. Henley, where do you intend for us to live?”
Jack’s mouth twitched irrepressibly as he looked down at her upturned face. “Oh, I rather thought Birmingham would be a good spot.”
“Oh?” she asked, unconcernedly.
“Yes,” he went on. “It’s at the end of my ground. That way, when I come back, you’ll be up and can fix my dinner for me.”
“How convenient!” Cecily agreed. “And what kind of lodgings did you have in mind?”
“Nothing too fancy, I suppose. A room above a shop would be pleasant. Not too far from the butcher for you nor too far from the public house for me.”
“It sounds delightful,” Cecily said, snuggling comfortably into the crook of his arm.
Jack took her chin in his hand and lifted it so he could stare into her eyes wonderingly. “Good God!” he said. “ I do believe you would!”
Cecily answered him seriously. “I think I would, Jack, if there were any need. But I know you well enough to be certain that you would not be here if your father had not forgiven you.”
It was the last thing she was able to say for quite some time, for Jack was so overcome by the love in her eyes that he gave in to his pent-up yearnings and covered her lips with kisses.
After this pleasant interlude, during which Cecily began to know how potent the temptations of the flesh could truly be, Jack clasped her again to his chest, and said, “I have missed you so. And I was so afraid you would not be here when I came.”
“But I was,” Cecily replied, in a shaky voice. “I knew you would come. My trip to Stourport was to ready it for us both when we go to live there—if you are willing?” She waited for Jack’s nod, before continuing with a radiant smile, “And Grandpapa knew it, too. He has a great respect for the men of the Royal Mail, you know.”
They both chuckled and held on tightly to each other, not noticing the gig that passed them on the road. It was Mr. Rose of the Rose and Crown with his missus, gone to call on her sister who had just been delivered of a new baby.
After one look at the two clasped together, Mr. Rose put the whip to his horse and hurried on past without a word. Mrs. Rose, who did not at first recognize the pair, turned to have a better look and then let out a shocked cry.
“Why, Mr. Rose! Did you see them two in the carriage? It looked like Miss Wolverton up at the manor and that fellow off the mail—Jack was his name! Did you . . . ?”
“Now, Bertha,” cautioned her husband, his visage a mask of disapproval. “You don’t have any call to be questioning the ways of the gentry. Though what Sir Waldo would say if he knew, and what the world is coming to in general, I do not like to think!”
Copyright © 1990 by Patricia W.B. Ricks
Originally published by Harlequin Regency Romance
Electronically published in 2004 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.