by Lilly Gayle
“But he did not change his will either,” Abby pointed out. “He knew you were unwed, and he knew when you would turn thirty-five. So, he knew Morris would inherit Ridge Point.” And that angered her far more than it seemed to anger Jack. If she could have, she would have dug up the former viscount and slapped him silly for treating his son so poorly.
A smile touched Jack’s lips when he finally turned to face her. “There was also a thick packet in the safe along with bank notes for more money than I have seen in a life time.”
“What was in the packet?” She could not care less about the money.
Pain etched Jack’s handsome face, nearly breaking Abby’s heart. His big shoulders sagged, and regret shone in his eyes. “An updated will, leaving everything to me and my heirs. It was wax sealed with his ring and witnessed by Dr. Jamison.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Abby reached across the bed and placed her hands over his. He stopped twisting the ring on his finger. His heart stilled. And when their gazes met, sympathy shone in the depths of her eyes. Jack could not take it. He could not stand the sorrow brewing in his heart nor the tender emotions his wife instilled. He could not stand the raging jealousy that roared through his veins when he thought of her in Drury’s arms. He knew they must return to London so he might establish himself and reunite her with her father, but he could not stomach the idea of her running into Drury.
He no longer feared Abby’s feelings for the man. He feared what he might do to the bastard if they ever came face to face. It seemed that where Abby was concerned, he was every bit as possessive as his father.
Would he one day allow those feelings to override his better judgment? Was love always such a painful, damaging emotion?
His pulse jumped. So did he. He sprang from the bed as if his crotch were on fire. Bloody hell! He could not be in love with his wife. Love weakened a man and made him lose all common sense. Look what it had done to his father and uncle. Both men had lost their heads over a woman who did not have the courage to follow her own heart.
Or had she? Had his mother’s refusal to deny his father’s accusations been a deliberate move to force Uncle William’s hand?
Uncle William had gone after her, and when she refused to return home, he had moved his base of operations to Charleston. William still traveled, but he always returned to Charleston—and Jack’s mother.
Even on her deathbed, she believed she would get well. It wasn’t until Charleston was burning around them and she became too weak to raise her head that she was able to face the truth. She had asked for a moment alone with both him and his uncle that last day. She had made him promise to return her body to Ridge Point. But what had she said to Uncle William? He had been too afraid to ask. Now, he suspected the two lovers had exchanged one last kiss and a final goodbye.
“Jack?”
Abby’s soft voice startled him. He watched as she planted her feet on the bed step and rose from the high bed. Her eyes locked onto his as she stepped down to the floor and took a hesitant step toward him. His pulse pounded in his ears. He could not think when she was near.
He took a step back. “I’m sorry I did not tell you last night, but I have decided it’s time to reunite you with your father. He needs to meet Will, and he needs to know you are safe.”
“I agree,” Abby said, but she did not look happy. She looked afraid.
Did she fear running into to Drury? Or did she fear her father’s reaction to the decisions she had made? Damn it! He might look like a swashbuckling American privateer, but he was a viscount. What English father would not want his daughter to marry a peer?
“Very well. We leave today.” He turned, but her soft voice halted him in his tracks.
“And what of your aunt and cousin?”
He spun around, meeting her curious expression. Anger simmered in his veins. Her impertinence was unacceptable. She was much too vocal with her opinions for his taste and not nearly as obedient as a viscountess should be. She should do as he bade her without question or argument. She should…
Be more like his mother? Hardly! His mother’s “obedience” and passive machinations had been just as damaging as his father’s jealousy and greed. Had they only been as open and honest with one another as Abby was with him now, perhaps his life would have turned out differently.
Yet, had that happened, he would never have met Abby.
She truly was a breath of fresh air and sunshine in his dark life. She brought out the best and worst in him. And his greatest fear was that she would always be honest. His greatest fear was that one day, he would admit he loved her and she would be unable to repeat those words back to him.
In his heart of hearts, he knew she would never lie. And if she did not return his love, he would react no better than his father had done. Best if he kept those tender emotions to himself. Perhaps then, they could live in harmony for the rest of their days.
He gave her his best, indulgent smile. “What about them? Ridge Point is mine without question. I do not even have to allow them one last week to find other living arrangements.”
She sighed, and he could tell she was not happy with his reply. A frown marred her lovely brow. “Surely, you realize your aunt is not as villainous as you once believed.”
Wasn’t she? He folded his arms across his chest. “And what do you think of my cousin?”
Mischief danced in her Caribbean blue gaze. “He is an arse.”
Laughter bubbled up from his chest, erupting in a guffaw that startled Abby. It startled him as well, but it released the remaining tension in his shoulders and brought a smile to his heart. Abby had a way of bringing him out of the doldrums and putting everything into perspective. “Yes. He is an arse and a worthless one at that.”
A smile touched her face, and her shoulders relaxed. “But he is your aunt’s only child, and once they leave here, they will be homeless.”
Arms still folded, he leaned against the bedpost. “And what do you suggest I do? Allow them to continue living under our roof? I would have to sleep with one eye open and lock up the family silver.” He frowned as another thought occurred to him. “In fact, I should get Uncle William to inventory the silver and everything else of value before he heads back to Seile with Quent.”
“That would not be a bad idea, but I think a better one would be to give your cousin a purpose. He has no direction and no skills, save for his desire to live as a peer.”
“He has squandered his life. How is that any concern of mine?” What female flights of fancy were in that brain of hers? Did she expect him to raise Morris as if he were an overgrown child who needed guidance and discipline? He would rather take a cat-o-nine tails to his hide and be done with it.
“Do you plan to restore Ram’s Head?” she asked, rather than enlightening him.
“I do.” It was his father’s dream, and thanks to the bank notes he had found in the safe, he had more than enough money to repair the estate to its former glory.
“Then why not allow your cousin to oversee those repairs? He and his mother could live at the estate on a strict allowance. You could keep an eye on the books and make sure that he does not pilfer any of the money for his own needs. It would give him a purpose in life and a roof over their heads. And,” she said with a smile when he looked at her with narrowed eyes, “it would stop him from going to London and tarnishing your good name—or worse. Keep in mind, you and Will are all that stand between him and a viscountcy, and desperate men often resort to desperate measures.”
If Morris Flick ever laid a hand on Will, he would kill him and dispose of his remains in the deepest ocean. “All the more reason to wash my hands of the bastard.”
A pleading look came over her. “Why tempt him needlessly?”
He sensed Abby’s fears, but was there more to her suggestion? Did she believe Morris could be redeemed? Did she think he needed redeeming? Bloody hell. He was on the verge of falling in love with her, and she saw him as nothing more than a soul who needed
saving. He curled his lip. “And for the record, I have no name in London for Morris to tarnish. I am nothing more than a sea captain turned viscount who hid away from society for the last twenty years.”
“Because of your father’s heart ailment.” Understanding and something more shone in Abby’s eyes. “Your aunt told me that is the tale she told her peers whenever she and Mr. Flick ventured out in society.”
“And what did she say about my mother and me?” His heart thumped against his ribs. What vile names had she called his mother?
“Despite any snide remarks your cousin may or may not have made in her absence, your aunt had nothing but your father’s best interest at heart. She told her peers that your father did not want to saddle his wife with a sick husband. Whenever anyone asked, she told them the two of you were traveling with your uncle or staying close to your father’s side. Since Uncle William frequently travelled between America and London before you took over as captain of the Lion’s Pride, no one suspected the truth. And your father never confessed what he had done.”
Warmth blossomed in Jack’s chest and spread to his gut. Despite his father’s cruel actions, he had never sullied his wife’s reputation in public. And neither had his aunt. But what of his cousin? That bastard gossiped like an old hen. But did anyone take him seriously?
“My aunt has made her bed and must now lie in it. As for Morris, he is—”
“A desperate man who may react in a desperate manner if given no other choice,” Abby said again. “Extend the olive branch and see if he takes it. He may not be gracious about it, but I bet he will accept your terms and be grateful for it.”
“And if he is not?”
Abby smiled. “Then my handsome privateer, you may make him walk the plank.”
With a laugh rumbling in his chest, Jack pulled Abby into his arms.
****
The reunion with her father was everything Abby had hoped for. Henry Halsey doted on his grandson and insisted they take his open conveyance into the park to show off the newest member of his family. Jack thought it a fine idea. Abby had to fight an onslaught of nausea just thinking of the possibility she might run into Lord Drury or Lord Ruston.
When she tried voicing her concerns to Jack when they were alone in her old bedroom, he brushed them aside. He insisted she was his viscountess, and nothing else mattered. And when she tried to talk to him about allowing his aunt and cousin to manage Ram’s Head, he brushed those concerns aside as well.
“I am allowing them to remain at Ridge Point for another week, but after that, I do not care where they go, nor do I wish to discuss the matter further.”
“Where do you expect them to go, Jack?” she asked, risking his wrath.
He bristled, and his face turned red, but he did not raise his voice when he said, “I do not give a tinker’s damn where they go so long as they leave.”
“Jack…”
He glared, no doubt, intent on stifling her protests, but she could not remain quiet. Ironically enough, his aunt had shown her nothing but kindness the last day they were at Ridge Point. Whether it was an act or not, she might never know. But she could not rest easy until she knew the elderly woman would have a roof over her head. “I have little sympathy for your cousin, but your aunt has repeatedly attempted to make things right, and you refuse to even listen. Have you no heart? She has nowhere to go. Her husband left her penniless, and if not for your father’s generosity, there is no telling what would have happened to her and her son. And while your father did your cousin no favors by pampering him when he would never be viscount, Mr. Flick has lived off your father’s charity his entire adult life. How is he going to care for himself or his mother?”
“My aunt manipulated my father. I am sure she can manipulate some man of means to take in her and her worthless son.”
“She is not well, or have you not noticed?” Was Jack really so cruel? Or was he still trying to protect himself from hurt? His heart was not nearly as hard as he liked to believe, but in his efforts to protect himself from pain, had he walled it off too completely? Would he ever trust anyone? Love anyone?
He draped her pelisse over her shoulders. “I will consider your request.”
She turned into his arms and dared looking into his eyes. “Then I suggest you consider it quickly as your aunt and cousin will be attending tonight’s soiree at Lord Chivington’s London townhouse.”
Jack’s eyes changed from smoldering hot to dark shards of ice in an instant. His gaze narrowed. “And how would you know this?”
She swallowed nerves and forced a smile. Jack had never raised a hand to her. She was confident he would not do so now, no matter how angry he might seem. “She promised to champion me and sing my praises so no one will question our hasty union.”
Surprise flickered in his dark gaze, but he quickly masked it and dropped his arms to his sides. “Then I suppose we should bid our son good night and be on our way to this damnable affair before I change my mind.”
Hope bloomed in Abby’s heart and took root. Jack continued to think of Will as his own, and no matter how angry she made him, he did not revile or ridicule her. And if she had her way, one day, he would love her the way she had come to love him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nerves fluttered in Abby’s stomach like butterfly wings as Jack helped her into the carriage. He settled her across from her father before sitting beside her and draping an arm over the back of the richly upholstered seat. The casual brush of his fingers on her shoulder sent warmth to her chest, chasing some of the butterflies away. Then the carriage jerked forward, and the butterflies returned.
Her father leaned across the carriage and patted her knee. “Do not fret. Lady Edwina cannot wait to see you again, and I am sure that despite your prolonged absence and sudden return, your friends will welcome you and Ardmore with open arms and few questions.”
The butterflies in Abby’s stomach flitted into her chest. “There is sure to be gossip, Papa. Besides my mysterious absence, I have returned home with a husband and a child.”
“No, no,” her father added in that soothing tone he used to placate her whenever she disagreed. It was the tone an adult used on an unreasonable child, and Abby was neither a child nor unreasonable. “I told everyone you were traveling abroad and visiting friends. Perhaps we can even say you met Ardmore in Paris or Spain. No, you have no reason to fret. I will handle everything.”
“I am her husband, and I will handle whatever needs handling,” Jack said, in a low, firm voice that normally brooked no argument. But alas, her father was too busy plotting his own strategies to pay much attention.
“Yes, we will just say you met your husband during your travels, had a whirlwind courtship, and married post haste.”
“And who was my chaperon while I was doing all this traveling?” Abby asked when she felt Jack bristle beside her. “Did you send me off to visit relatives alone? Did I travel with the nuns? Circus performers?”
Papa frowned. “Do not be so impertinent.”
Jack snorted, and she could not tell if he was holding back an unexpected chortle or if he were snarling like the lion he often resembled. She feared it was the former, and if she turned to meet his gaze, she would collapse into hysterical giggles that might unduly embarrass her father. Her sharp tongue and “impertinence” had no doubt annoyed him enough already.
“You need to trust me,” Papa added, his frown deepening. “Had you but trusted me before, we would not be in this fix.”
Had she trusted him before, she would have been wed to that lecherous old fool, Lord Ruston. She arched her brows. Her father flushed.
“Surely, you see the wisdom of my words,” he said in his most arrogant tone. “What is the harm in telling a little white lie? If you will not do it for your own sake, then think of Lord Ardmore. We must protect your reputation before his peers.”
Her reputation had suffered the moment she left home to live at an Anglican convent, despite whatever lies her fath
er may have told to protect her. Now that she had returned home with a child, just nine months after Lord Drury’s abuse, he might even guess the truth about her hasty marriage and do irreparable damage to her reputation. Then there was the matter of Lord Ruston…
“Father, you offered Lord Ruston money to marry me and give my child a name. Do you think he has forgotten that already? Or that he did not spread malicious gossip when you could not produce his compromised bride and hefty dowry?”
Jack sat forward with a scowl. “I trusted you to handle things with Ruston. I assumed you had done so.”
Her father blanched and leaned back against the seat. Despite the look of annoyance that briefly flickered in his dark gaze, he nodded. “Of course I handled it. I told Ruston the father of Abby’s child had planned to ask for her hand before he was called away on business, but I did not trust him and that is why I approached Ruston with my offer. I also told him Abby refused because she had more faith in you than I did.” Her father’s eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned just a bit closer. “And I told him this before I knew Captain Jack and Lord Ardmore were one and the same.”
“Good,” Jack said before glancing in her direction. “And if we happen to run into Lord Drury, I will ensure that he treats you with the utmost respect and decorum due any viscountess.”
Her father rubbed his hands together as if everything was properly settled. “Splendid! Tonight shall be a most enjoyable evening then.”
His obvious joy did not bring her pleasure. The fact she had wed a peer who did not need his financial backing seemed to please her father more than her happiness or his grandson. Granted, he had doted on Will the moment he laid eyes on him, but that was most likely because he was heir to a viscountcy. Especially since it was not a viscountcy he would have to support financially.
The ungrateful thought was unexpected. Her father had given her everything and though he craved social acceptance, so had she. Then again, if her father had not been who he was, she might not have cared so much about marrying above her station.