by Lilly Gayle
Blonde. What blonde? He felt Abby’s eyes on him, but he did not dare turn to meet her gaze. He was relieved both his aunt and Morris had readily accepted the fact he had met Abby over a year ago while in London, but he did not remember any blonde. “Where did you see us?”
Again, a slight stain colored his aunt’s cheeks. Her gaze darted to Abby and back before she lowered her chin and stared at her shoes. “On Patton Street. Lady Carstairs, Lady Vera, and Lady Emma Ellington and I had spent the day shopping at the Burlington Arcade on Piccadilly. We’d grown quite famished, so we walked to Patton Street to a café that sold Italian ices. As we came around the corner, I saw you. You looked so much like your father and uncle that I knew it was you. You were standing with a beautiful blonde woman, and you were holding her packages.”
Jack’s pulse hitched. Beside him, Abby gasped. He looked down. She looked up.
“That was you?” she whispered.
He nodded, unable to believe the woman he had plowed into nearly two years ago on the corner of Patton and Oxendon was Abby. No wonder he had been so drawn to her when he saw her in that rundown coach. It was those Caribbean blue eyes. They had mesmerized him then as they did now. “That was the day we met.”
She smiled, and it lit her entire face like sunshine bursting through the clouds. “I had just bought new shoes, gloves, and a bonnet for a garden party at Chivington Manor. I was so flustered when I walked into your broad chest and dropped all my packages. But you were so gallant and kind.”
“It was love at first sight,” Aunt Margery said with a sigh. “And here, I had wondered if perhaps…Well, again it seems, I misjudged.”
“You did not even know who she was, and yet, you told my father we were wed?” He did not believe in love at first sight. There had been a mutual attraction, but at the time, he had been interested only in the nightly pleasures a woman could offer, and Abby had been off limits. She had probably not even given him a second thought after he had gallantly kissed her gloved hand and walked away. She had still been infatuated with Drury at the time.
Aunt Margery’s face flushed a bright pink before fading to snowy white. “I assumed the worst and had no intention of telling your father anything. But when I returned home, he was in one of his moods. He had heard you were in town and despaired that you would never attempt to see him and that you would never wed or give him grandchildren because of what he had done. He was so despondent I feared he would do something rash.” She paused, inhaling deeply and brushing a tear from her pale cheek. “So, I told him I had seen you with a woman and that you seemed quite close. I did not know at the time how accurate my assessment was or that you would return to London to marry her. At the time, I just wanted to give Ardie hope.”
“Hope for what? He all but disowned me, and he never once attempted to see me! What in God’s name had he hoped for? To throw it in my face how little he cared?” His throat closed. So did his fists. But Abby’s touch stopped his left hand from closing completely. Her thumb stroked the back of his fingers, soothing him in a way that only she could.
A single tear fell from Aunt Margery’s eye, but her oddly pale expression never changed. She looked as animated as a porcelain doll. “Ardie had added that first codicil months before. That was another reason he refused to see you. He was planning to send a copy of the codicil to your mother. He thought if he threatened to leave Ridge Point to Morris, your mother would come home to argue with him, and he would not have to beg her forgiveness. He thought the two of you would come home, and he could convince you to stay.”
“There was a damn war going on.” Jack let go of Abby’s hand and spiked his fingers into his hair. His parents had both been stubborn, manipulative, and damned unforgiving. And he had been caught in the middle of a battlefield that had been their marriage. Was it any damn wonder he had been against the notion of wedlock for so long?
Abby’s gaze seemed to draw his attention. Her blue eyes offered compassion, sympathy, and something much deeper that he was not quite ready to acknowledge or accept.
“But that is not why Ardie did not send the letter.” His aunt sniffed. “I was so afraid of losing my home, that I told him there was no need to inform you or Lady Darcy. I told him you had adopted America as your home, and you would most likely marry and sail back to America with your wife. I honestly did not believe you wanted anything more to do with England or the estate.”
“Only because you wanted Ridge Point for your worthless son!”
Morris drew himself up as if only then realizing that he was part of the conversation. “I beg your pardon!”
“Beg nothing!” Jack snarled. “You will both leave my home!”
He turned to storm from the room, but Abby’s hand on his arm and Uncle Williams’s firm voice stopped him.
“Jack!” Uncle William raised his voice, as he had not done since Jack was a child. “Stop acting like a spoiled adolescent and listen. Your father was not perfect and neither are you. You are just as stubborn and pigheaded as he was, and it is high time you learned the truth. All of it!”
Jack’s heart nearly stopped beating. Was this the moment when he would learn he was not Viscount Ardmore’s son by blood? Had his entire life been a lie? He would rather not know the truth. He would rather die believing his biological father had disowned him than learn he was Uncle William’s son. Sometimes, a lie was kinder than the truth. And in that moment, he swore he would take the truth of Will’s paternity to the grave.
Will must never learn that I am not his father or that his mother was raped. The truth could be devastating.
“Damn it, boy, I am not your father!” Uncle William snarled. “Damn if you are not just as stubborn as Ardmore. Now stop being a jackass and listen!”
Blood pounded in Jack’s ears, relief making him weak in the knees. He draped an arm around Abby, tugging her close. Her arms circled his waist, hugging him tightly.
Aunt Margery lowered her chin and stared at the floor. “You had your ship and you had Ram’s Head, but Morris had nothing. His father forfeited his estate to the crown when he hanged himself. I knew Ardie would care for us, but Morris does not have your flair for finance.”
Morris snorted. “Mother, please! Jack is a disreputable pirate. Where is the flair in that?”
“Do be quiet, Morris.” She glared at her son until he flopped down on the sofa with his glass of brandy. Then she turned back to Jack. “I asked Ardie to leave Ridge Point to Morris and he agreed. Then you showed up six months later and told Higgins you were unwed. Ardie was devastated and three months after that, he killed himself.”
****
Jack staggered and nearly fell. Abby’s arm cinched more tightly around his waist. There seemed to be nothing she could say or do to ease his pain. So, she simply hugged him.
“What the hell are you saying?” His words were strained, harsh, but barely above a whisper. “He could not have taken his own life.”
His eyes strayed to the portrait hanging over the mantel. Abby’s gaze followed. The stern-faced viscount seemed to stare back, his eyes filled with misery and dark secrets. A shiver snaked down her spine as she huddled closer to Jack. He hardly noticed. His father’s portrait held his attention.
Was he thinking about the hidden safe and the answers he might find inside?
His Adam’s apple bobbled, and his shoulders sagged. Releasing Abby, he stepped away from her and turned toward his uncle. “Is it true? Did you know?”
William Norton nodded and lowered his gaze, but not before Abby noticed a suspicious glistening in his eyes. “I received a letter from Margery a couple of days before your mother died. It included a brief note from your father. I was going to share it with you, but then Darcy—Lady Darcy—took a turn for the worse. The next day, you received the official letter from Ardmore’s solicitor stating that your father had died of heart failure. So, I let the matter rest. Then after your mother died, we had to make haste to leave Charleston before the Union army confiscated the Lion
’s Pride. After that?” He shrugged. “I saw no need in adding to your pain.”
“So, my mother never knew?” Jack’s voice cracked. So did Abby’s heart. She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him, but he pulled away from her and took a step back.
“No.” Uncle William sighed. “Ardmore was a fool, but he grew to love your mother. Perhaps if I had not told him I loved her, too, then maybe he would not have been so quick to believe Margery. But I can hardly blame my sister. She knew how I felt, and she knew why your mother was marrying our brother. Then after you were born, Margery warmed up to Darcy, but by the time you were ten, you looked so much like me that the old fears and doubts resurfaced. She voiced her concerns to your father, and he began to believe the worst. I tried convincing him of the truth, but the die had been cast. He confronted Darcy, and she never denied it. She simply refused to dignify his accusations with a response. But I had no trouble denying his claims, and I begged him to accept the truth and ask for Darcy’s forgiveness. He refused, and I felt partially responsible. So, I tried convincing your mother to vocally deny his charges and return to Ridge Point. She too refused. She said it was up to Ardmore to beg her forgiveness and ask her to come home. I knew he never would. They were both so damned stubborn. So, I decided to stay in Charleston and look after you both.”
Abby’s heart ached as much for William Norton as for her husband. Mr. Norton had been caught in the middle of a situation beyond his control. How could he stop loving a woman because a match with his brother had been deemed more suitable? And how could anyone blame Jack’s mother? Women were more or less the property of their fathers or the property of their husbands. Had not her own father forced her into a convent until he found a suitable solution for her?
“Did you covet your brother’s wife?” Jack’s voice was barely above a whisper, the anguish in his words almost palpable.
His uncle sighed and lowered his gaze. It seemed as if he were unwilling or unable to answer.
“Did you?” Jack growled, low and feral, causing the hairs on the back of Abby’s neck to stand on end.
“Yes,” came the whispered reply. “But your mother was faithful to your father. It was not…” He swallowed hard, inhaled deeply, and met Jack’s damning gaze. “It was not until after I was injured in the Crimean war and gave you the Lion’s Pride that the situation changed.”
Jack’s face turned crimson. “So. My mother cheated.”
Morris Flick snorted as if in triumph. Lady Margery gasped. And William Norton’s shoulders seemed to sag with defeat. “We did not mean for it to happen, but we were both lonely, and I had always loved her.”
Abby’s heart dropped, and her knees began to shake. How could Jack blame his mother? After the false accusations and years of living in exile, how could he blame her for falling into the arms of the man she had loved from the beginning? How could he be so unfeeling and cold?
He may look like his uncle, but he was truly his father’s child. What must he think of her and what had transpired between them the night before?
A shiver snaked down her spine. What if Jack was as possessive, jealous, and unforgiving as his father? What if he questioned the motives behind her wanton response to his lovemaking? Worse, what if he began to wonder if she had responded as ardently to Lord Drury?
Rage colored Jack’s expression and though he did not raise his voice, his controlled response chilled Abby’s blood. “Then Aunt Margery was right all along. My mother was unfaithful.”
“No!” Uncle William raised his voice. Jack cringed but did not back down. He glared. So did his uncle.
William Norton gnashed his teeth and fisted his hands at his sides. “Do not blame her. She is the only one who is innocent in all of this. Your father and I both loved her. He later regretted his actions, but he was too stubborn and prideful to go after her, and she was too stubborn to return home.”
“And what about me?” Jack’s voice dropped, and in that moment, he looked like a lost little boy. Abby took a step toward him, but he jerked his head toward her, his eyes cutting into her, daring her to take another step closer. And so, she did not. She froze where she stood, her heart pounding in her chest.
Lady Darcy Ardmore had been no more innocent than her husband and sister-in-law. She could have voiced her innocence or returned home for the sake of her child. Instead, she had put her misplaced pride before Jack, thus denying him his father, home, and birthright. Jack was the only innocent she saw, but she feared his pain, rage, and resentment would twist his heart as surely as it had twisted his parents’.
Mr. Norton took a hesitant step forward. “Your parents loved you, Jack. This was never about you. Ardmore did not realize what his decisions and your mother’s actions would do to you until years later. He wanted so badly to believe what our sister had told him about you and the woman she had seen in London. He believed you were happily married and living in America until you came to Ridge Point last year. When he learned you were unwed, he felt too ashamed to face you.”
“He was a coward and a hypocrite.” Jack ground his teeth. His shoulders bunched, and it seemed as if he grew two inches taller as he stepped forward to stand nose to nose with his uncle. The two looked so much alike in size and coloring that it was easy to see the family resemblance.
Abby glanced once more at the portrait and then back at the two men circling one another like roosters in a cockfight. Jack’s jaw was firmer and squarer than his uncle’s, his lips fuller, and his brow broader. He may have William Norton’s size and coloring, but he had his father’s bone structure.
Mr. Norton’s shoulders slumped. He stepped away from Jack as if refusing to engage him further. Then with a heartfelt sigh, he lowered his gaze. “Hatred can eat a man alive, Jack. Your father learned that firsthand. Let it go, boy.”
“I am a full-grown man, uncle, and my father was more than just a fool. He should have known better than to believe his sister’s lies or assume I had married just because she had seen me with a woman. There had been women before Abby, and I did not marry them!”
Abby cringed. Lady Margery and Cousin Morris turned to stare. Lady Margery frowned. “A man should not boast of his former conquests in front of his wife.”
Jack flushed, but he did not meet Abby’s gaze. “The fact remains. We were not married when you saw us in London, and yet, you misled my father into believing I had not only married, but had sailed back to America to live happily ever after. It was only after I showed up here six months later that my father learned the truth.”
If possible, Lady Margery’s pale face lost even more color. “Ardmore wanted you to be happy, and I saw no need to disillusion him when we both thought he would have time to make things right. I thought I had smoothed things over, but the night after you came here, he sent for his solicitor and added the second codicil to his will. He mailed you a copy the next morning. He said you should have the right to decide if you wanted your inheritance or not, but I guess with your American war going on, you never got the letter. When months passed without a word, he assumed you did not care. Then he took his own life. It was his way of atoning for his sins.”
“How is that any kind of atonement?” Jack looked stricken, but there was a hard edge to his voice, and his eyes were cold. “Suicide is a cowardly act, and he risked not only this family’s reputation, but the entire viscountcy. Why was I not informed by his solicitor that he died in such a manner?”
A tear slid over Lady Margery’s pale cheek. “He took care of everything, and for once, his plan worked exactly as he envisioned it, with the exception of your mother’s death. He wrote all of us a letter before taking the poison. I found mine under my pillow. Yours and your mother’s is in the safe.” She looked at William. “He mailed your letter the day before.”
Mr. Norton nodded, and Lady Margery turned her attention back to Jack. “Your father assured me in the letter he wrote me that Dr. Jamison would attest that he died of a heart condition so the crown would not consider c
onfiscating anything entailed. His solicitor never even questioned the cause of death.” A shiver racked her frail body. “Poison, it seems, is a woman’s weapon. Men are expected to hang themselves as Mr. Flick did.” She glanced up at the portrait, and all eyes followed. “Your father’s way was much kinder and left no mess. He was always generous to a fault, and his dying wish was for you and your mother to return to England.” She offered Jack a wobbly smile. “And so you have.”
“I brought my mother home in a bloody box!” Jack’s voice rose in volume before he managed to calm himself.
His aunt nodded, tears now streaming freely down her face. “And you buried her at Ridge Point. It is where your father knew she always belonged.” She looked at him once more and offered a tremulous smile. “Look in the safe, Jack. You’ll never find peace until you do.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
It had been hours since Jack evicted everyone, including Abby, from the drawing room. She had looked at him as if he had betrayed her—not that he could blame her. He was having trouble getting his bearings and making decisions. He did not need her softhearted advice or the distraction of her warm, comforting embrace.
Aboard ship, it was easy to think with his head and not his heart or his rod. As captain, he knew a single miscalculation could result in the loss of life or the destruction of the Lion’s Pride. But ever since meeting Abby, he had allowed lust and emotion to get in the way of common sense. He should have known better.
Years ago, he learned to react quickly and go with his gut. Quentin was the one who thought things through and came up with last-minute plans, just as he had done when he thought of Jack marrying Abby. Had it not been for her, Jack would have taken a different approach to achieving his goals. He would have intimidated his cousin into giving up his claim to Ridge Point. If that had not worked, he would have ruined him financially before buying back the property. But he had not been thinking clearly and had allowed Quentin to convince him to marry Abby. Truth be told, it had not taken that much to convince him. This was reason enough for sending Abby to their room. She distracted him beyond reason. She made him weak.