Slightly Noble

by Lilly Gayle

  Was Aunt Margery lying? Or had Uncle William betrayed his trust?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The room spun. Jack gripped the back of a nearby chair, leaned forward, and glared. “There were no letters.”

  “Oh, Ardie never wrote back, but he treasured every letter, every word William wrote about you. He put them in the safe.”

  Jack and his aunt both turned to face the portrait hanging over the fireplace. Abby’s and Morris’ gazes followed.

  “So, that is where he kept his safe.” Morris gave his mother a sour look. “He could have money or jewels in there that belong to me.” He cast a sullen look at Jack and then scowled at his mother. “Why did you not tell me?”

  “Because I do not know the combination, and I knew you would tear down the wall and possibly destroy my brother’s portrait to get to it.”

  Morris sneered. “And you do not think Jack will do the same?”

  For the first time since setting foot into this room, Jack’s smile was genuine. “I do not need to tear down the wall. I know the combination.”

  Unless his father had changed it.

  A pang of regret pierced his chest. The combination was his birthday. Or it had been when he was a child. In a rare moment of affection, his father had ruffled his hair and told him the combination. It was one month before his tenth birthday and just a little more than a year before his banishment. It was a rare, cherished memory he had kept safely locked in his heart—a memory he had wanted to forget.

  “I did make the viscount proud that day.” He smiled, but bitterness welled in his heart. “The day of my first fox hunt, I not only kept up with the riders, but I did not shy away when Father blooded me after the hounds killed the poor animal. I suppose my behavior was a reflection of how well he had groomed me. So, it was really just pride in himself.” But had there been other moments he had wiped from his memory?

  His aunt shook her head and sighed. “No. Ardie was truly proud of you. He told me that same story after I saw you in London last year.”

  Jack’s fingers curled over the edge of the chair. His knuckles turned white. “I do not recall seeing you when I was here last. And I would have remembered. I met my wife on that trip.”

  The lie slid smoothly from his lips. More smoothly than he would have imagined. But in that moment, he realized he would lie, cheat, or die for his wife. It was what husbands were supposed to do for those they…for those in their care.

  But did he more than just care for Abby? Dear God, had he fallen in love with her?

  He met Abby’s gaze, daring her to dispute the lie specifically designed to protect her reputation. Her eyes were radiant and not with gratitude. They shone with some deeper emotion he dare not analyze.

  His aunt sighed. “I was not referring to that visit. Though, I wish I had been here when you came to see your father. Perhaps then, I could have persuaded him to speak with you. But he believed it was too late. He said you had grown into a fine young man, one as stubborn as your mother, as if that were not calling the kettle black.” Another sigh escaped as she sagged against the sofa. “No. I saw you in London months before, when you were on one of your earlier trips. I was in London shopping for another new wardrobe.” She lowered her gaze, and color suffused her face. “Your father doted on Morris and me after your mother refused to come back. I must admit that at first, I was glad.” She sighed again, the sound rife with pain and regret. “But then, I began to feel guilty. I saw how much your father missed you and your mother. He was so miserable, that I told him you seemed happy.”

  “You lied to him? Again?” Fury roared through Jack’s veins. How could she profess a guilty conscience in one breath while admitting further sins in the next? She would do anything to regain the life she had lived before her husband gambled away his fortune and took his own life, thus forfeiting his wealth.

  His aunt rose on shaky legs, reaching for him. “Jack. Please…”

  “No.” The low growl came from deep down, a snarl filled with anguish and rage. “Get out of my sight and take that sorry excuse for a son with you.”

  Morris stumbled to his feet. Aunt Margery grabbed his arm, her white-knuckled grip forestalling his protest. “Let us leave your cousin and his family to their unpacking.” She sniffed once and bit her lip to stop it from trembling. Then she looked at Jack, the sorrow in her gaze, making him cringe.

  Damn her! How dare she attempt to make him feel guilty. After everything she had done to him and his mother, he should not have to put up with her presence in his home a second longer. But if anyone should be expected to leave, it was him. The courts had granted her and Morris two weeks. And he had given them but one.

  Hardening his heart, he glared. “I cannot legally evict you from this estate for another week, but I expect you or Morris, whichever one of you inhabits my father’s room, to remove his or her things from the master suite posthaste. My family and I are moving in today.”

  His aunt sniffed once more and nodded. “As you wish, milord. I will ensure that Morris moves into the blue room across from mine until we can make other arrangements.”

  “You had best make those arrangements quickly. You have one week.” With those parting words, Jack snagged Abby’s elbow and escorted her outside.

  ****

  Bloody hell! Ridge Point was his. But now, here he stood, twiddling his damn thumbs while his wife nursed their son inside a carriage. Until Morris removed his personal belongings from the master suite of the estate, it was the only place she was guaranteed privacy.

  Damn, but he felt useless and out of sorts. At least Quentin had something to do. After assisting the Ridge Point footmen with the luggage, he had gone inside with Mrs. Smythe and Miss Parsons to see to the unpacking and to make sure the Ridge Point servants did not snoop through their things.

  Would he have to fire every last one of them and find his own staff? He would not even know how to go about such a huge undertaking. Hell, he did not know the first thing about writing reference letters. But if it came to that, perhaps Abby could guide him. It was just too damn bad he could not bring his ship’s crew to Ridge Point. Unfortunately, they would not fit in here any better than he did.

  What was it Quent had said about silk and a sow’s ear? Abby may not have been born into the same class as him, but his common born wife was nobler than he would ever be.

  A smile touched his face when she stepped down from the carriage with Will cradled in her arms. She would much prefer to care for the boy herself, but in this world, it was not done. And if he wanted to impress upon the staff that he was indeed, lord of the manor, then both Abby and he would have to behave in the expected manner.

  Once inside the house, he summoned Miss Parsons who took Will up to the nursery. With Aunt Margery and Morris still in residence, he could not show his bride the entire house for fear of running into them. So, he showed her the ground floor while introducing himself and his viscountess to whatever staff they ran into along the way. He would deal with the entire Ridge Point staff later. Then, he would learn where their loyalties lay. Until then, he and Abby would be confined to the common rooms and the master suite, which included a nursery and nursemaid’s room.

  Abby had already seen the large entry hall and the drawing room. So, he showed her the library, salon, dining room, music room, and family salon. The kitchen, butler’s pantry, and scullery were below stairs. She would have no need to see those areas until after she took over as mistress of the manor, and unfortunately, he could not show her the five other bedrooms until that time either. As of now, he was a guest in his own home, and etiquette deemed it improper for a guest to see any bedchamber other than the one to which he or she was assigned. But as Lord Ardmore, he was assigned the master suite, and he was damn sure moving his wife into the mistress’s room just as soon as Morris vacated the master bedroom.

  Abby seemed subdued but suitably impressed with the estate, and Jack was pleased it was still in such good condition, considering his cousi
n’s fondness for fast horses and loose women. Then again, the apple did not often fall far from the tree, and Morris’ father had ruined his own life in a like manner. So, he could only assume there was little money left in his father’s accounts. He knew for damn sure he had received precious little to maintain that monstrosity of a house, Ram’s Head.

  “Your family home is lovely,” Abby said as he escorted her upstairs.

  “It is our home. Or it will be once we rid ourselves of our unwanted ‘guests.’”

  As they completed the tour of the house, Higgins met Jack in the hall to inform him the master suite was now vacant. Jack nodded and led Abby upstairs so she could see her room.

  The master suite consisted of a master chamber and lady’s bedroom separated by a dressing room. He carried her in through what would soon be his room, through the connecting door of the dressing chamber, and into the room that had once been his mother’s. He made a point of showing her the lock on both sides of the door.

  “To insure your privacy,” he said, hoping she would trust him enough to leave her side unlocked. He hoped like hell that he would be strong enough to resist her charms and earn her trust.

  “It is all very lovely.” She wrung her hands together, her eyes darting not to the door separating her room from his, but toward the door leading out into the hall.

  “There is a large water closet at the end of the hall.” He smiled, wondering if she needed to relieve herself. “There is also a necessary out back, hidden by a large hedge.”

  Her eyes darted from him to the door again. “But where is the nursery? How far will I be from our son?”

  A chuckle escaped, and Jack smiled down fondly at his overprotective wife. “The nursery and nanny’s room are just across the hall.”

  She turned toward the door, and her chin trembled as she looked up at him with those big, Caribbean blue eyes. “I am sorry. It is just that I have never been away from him for this long.”

  Jack grazed her cheek with the back of his hand, wanting to reassure her, but the soft touch stirred areas of his body he did not wish stirred when there was nothing he could do at the moment to ease the ache. He snatched back his hand and stiffened his spine. He needed to control his lusty nature with Abby if he wanted to gain her trust. Until she was ready, he could not even think of seducing her.

  Clearing his throat, he stepped back and smiled. “He is safe. I can assure you. And although I cannot show you the other bed chambers, I can show you upstairs if you would like.”

  She quirked a brow. “Do you really think it proper for me to see the staff’s quarters while I am still little more than a guest?”

  She was right of course, but he did not intend to show her the dormitory-like rooms above stairs where the servants slept. “My mother was one of nine children, none of whom are still alive. But when she was a child here, her father built a day nursery above stairs between the men’s and women’s sleeping quarters. When she and her siblings were older, the room was converted into a schoolroom. Their tutor slept in a small room next to the classroom. I thought maybe you would like to see where Will is going to study until he is old enough to go to Eton or Harrow.”

  “I would rather see my son,” she said with a tremulous smile, as if she thought he could deny her.

  He could. But he would not. Had she not yet learned he could deny her nothing? Heaven help him when she did. He would well and truly be at her mercy then. With a shake of his head, he cupped her elbow and escorted her across the hall. He did not know what to expect when he opened the door to the nursery, but he had not expected to find it stripped of all furniture save for the cradle they had brought with them from the Lion’s Pride and an old rocking chair. The staff had cleaned the room as ordered, and while he had not expected them to locate his old baby bed, there should have been some furniture left in the room besides the rocker. What had happened to the rosewood child’s bed he had slept in? Or his dressing table, wardrobe, and toy chest?

  Miss Parsons stood in front of the window overlooking the river, jiggling Will in her arms in an attempt to soothe his grumbling. Jack’s heart twisted. He used to stand at that same window, staring out at the river and wishing he could sail his little boat to Seile to see Uncle William.

  Had his father always been jealous of his brother? Had he stripped the room of all reminders of his son the moment the Andover set sail for America?

  Abby seemed unconcerned with the lack of furnishings. She broke free of his light touch and rushed over to take her son from Miss Parsons’ arms. She held him close, raining kisses on his tiny head as if it had been days rather than hours since she had last seen him. It was almost embarrassing. If he did not put a stop to her coddling now, she would turn their son in to a pantywaist.

  He opened his mouth to issue a gentle reprimand, but the words would not come. A flash of memory stopped him cold—a memory of his father reprimanding his mother for showing “too much” affection. Swallowing his criticism, he led Abby to the rocking chair.

  Miss Parsons clasped her hands at her waist. “Beggin’ your pardon, milord, but…”

  Jack turned to face her. “Yes?”

  “After Mr. Stanley brung in the cradle, I asked Mr. Higgins where the rest of the baby furniture was. He said Lady Margery had been using this room as her dressing room, and there weren’t no baby furniture.”

  Well, at least that answered one question. If Aunt Margery had been using this room as a dressing room, there had probably been no room for furniture. When she moved to Ridge Point after her husband’s suicide, dozens of trunks and wardrobes filled with clothes had moved in with her, and her shopping habits had most likely not changed in all these years. Even as cold hearted as his father had been, he had not denied his family any luxury. He had lavished both his wife and sister with clothes and jewels, not because he was generous, but because their appearance reflected upon him.

  Had his aunt cleaned out this room before or after his father died?

  “Do not concern yourself Miss Parsons,” he said. “I will see to my son’s needs. Now, if you will excuse us?”

  The young woman hesitated, glancing at Abby to ensure herself that her charge and his mother would be safe before she quietly slipped from the room, leaving Jack alone with his wife and son.

  Locking his arms behind his back, he gazed down at Abby’s head. She had temporarily quieted her son by allowing him to chew on her little finger. It would not satisfy him for long. Will may not be Jack’s son by blood, but the boy’s appetite was just as voracious. Perhaps he would grow as tall and broad as Jack himself.

  He smiled and looked down at his wife and son. “I am sorry about the room. If you will make a list, I will see that Will has everything he needs.”

  “It is quite all right. Will has not outgrown his cradle just yet.”

  But at the rate he was growing, he would soon. “Still, I will rectify the situation just as quickly as I can. If I had known…”

  “How could you have known?” She met his steadfast gaze. “You have been gone for over twenty years. Even if what your aunt says about your father expecting your mother to come back is true, he would have given up waiting eventually. And your father has been dead for over a year now. Even if he had kept the room the same, your aunt and cousin would not have left it undisturbed.”

  “I suppose.” He hunkered down beside her and gently brushed the top of Will’s head. No longer satisfied gnawing on Abby’s little finger, he started rooting against her chest. Abby flushed but ignored his thus far silent demands.

  Memories of this room and his mother nudged at Jack’s brain. He rose slowly to his feet and pointed to where Quentin had placed the cradle. “My bed was over there.” He turned. “And there was a bookshelf and toy chest over there.”

  “Is that a smile I see?” Abby said, drawing him out of his thoughts. “I am glad you have some fond memories here. I would not want you to live in a home where there were only bad ones.”

  Her eyes shone w
hen he looked into them. Was she holding back tears? For him? He did not need them. Life had not always been kind, but he was stronger for it, unlike his pampered, worthless cousin who had never worked for anything.

  “When I was six, maybe seven,” he said after some reflection, “my parents had been away for what seemed like forever to a child. My nanny was trying to get me into bed when my parents came into the room. My mother dropped to her knees so I could run into her outstretched arms. And right there, in front of the nanny, my father scolded her as if she too were a child. Apparently, he did not want her to coddle me nor show such common displays of affection in front of the help. So, I suppose my aunt was right in that respect. My father, the viscount, was not an affectionate man.”

  “Oh Jack. A child needs to feel loved, especially by his parents.”

  “Too much coddling spoils a child.” How many times had he heard that? If nothing else, his father had taught him to be strong and self-sufficient.

  “No, Jack. Love blesses a child,” Abby said with a sad smile.

  Jack did not need her pity, despite his lack of experience when it came to softer emotions like love. He had had Uncle William’s affection, even if their easy banter had never included hugs. He was also quite sure no one had ever kissed the top of his head before. And while he knew he cared for Abby, he was unsure what it was he actually felt for her.

  Was wanting to ravish her the same as wanting to love her?

  Will’s grumbling saved him from having to respond. The boy’s face turned red, and his fists flailed. Jack cleared his throat, thankful for the timely distraction. “I believe our son is growing impatient. He is ready to eat. Now.”

  Abby flushed but did not move, and Will’s cries gained momentum. Still, Abby stalled. “I…” Her face flamed. “If you could please…”

  “Oh!” Disappointment warred with regret as he turned away from her. Apparently, Abby was still uncomfortable in his presence, or perhaps she was just uncomfortable nursing her son in front of him. Shuffling his feet, he stepped toward the door. “I, um, need to see to the unpacking of our things.”