Slightly Noble

by Lilly Gayle

  Abby’s flush deepened, and a profound sadness filled her. If only she had captured his heart. She forced a smile. “I have heard much about you, my lord.”

  “Call me Gilchrest. Please,” he said with a smile.

  Lady Gilchrest reached out a hand and pulled Abby into her arms as if they were long lost friends. “Oh, I am so happy for Jack. You are simply stunning, and I know Jack—Ardmore adores you. I cannot wait for you to bring little Will to Land’s End so my children can meet him.”

  Abby wanted to like the countess, but her continued use of Jack’s first name gave her pause. Then, there was her odd accent that sounded so eerily similar to Jack’s.

  “My husband did not mention you were, um, American,” she said, hazarding a guess.

  “My mother was the daughter of an earl, but she married an English sea captain as bold and dashing as your husband,” Lady Gilchrest said, seemingly unconcerned that her unrepentant flirtations had put a scowl on her husband’s face. “In fact, my dear, childhood friend is a loyal member of Jack’s crew.”

  “You remember my boatswain, Charlie Hogan,” Jack said, and all Abby could do was nod. Her head spun. She had never seen this flirtatious, social aspect of her husband before. Did all women have this effect on him? Or was it just this particular woman? “Charlie and Nikki—um, Lady Gilchrest are both from North Carolina. Her father used to sail out of Wilmington and New Bern, ports I frequently visited.”

  “I assume those ports are north of South Carolina, Lady Gilchrest?” Abby forced a smile. Her throat tightened.

  “Yes. And you simply must call me Nikki,” Lady Gilchrest said. “My closest friends do. And I shall call you Abby. If that is all right with you.”

  “Nicole…” Lord Gilchrest shook his head and cast his wife an indulgent smile. “You are overwhelming Ardmore’s wife. She looks quite stunned.”

  Abby was more than stunned. She felt like a shrinking violet next to the bold woman who seemed to disregard societal conventions without a single qualm. “No. It is quite all right, sir.”

  “Oh, do stop being so formal, Chad,” Nikki said. She turned her warm brown gaze on Abby. “Forgive me, but I have never quite fit in with British society, and after seven years of marriage, I have stopped trying.” She laughed. “In fact, it is very rare that Chad and I attend society functions at all, but Mr. Stanley insisted. Then I ran into an old friend of my mother’s and she too insisted. She said she had happy news to share about her nephew.” She looked at Jack. “I must confess that when you asked Chad to vouch for you before Parliament, I was so stunned to learn you were not an American but Ardmore’s heir that I never made the connection to Lady Margery before.”

  Abby felt the change in Jack even before his muscles tautened and his jaw clenched. “It is not a connection I cherish.”

  “And I regret that more than I can say.” Lady Margery stepped forward and placed a trembling hand on Jack’s shoulder. He stiffened, and Abby feared he would throw off her offending hand and make quite a scene. To his credit, he remained eerily silent.

  Lady Margery sighed and turned to the earl and his wife. “I had hoped to surprise you with the news of Ardmore’s marriage and the birth of his heir, but it seems he beat me to it.”

  Lord and Lady Gilchrest exchanged uncomfortable looks. Abby’s nerves twisted her stomach into knots.

  “I believe I am the one surprised, madam,” Jack said in a tense, controlled voice that sent a shiver down Abby’s spine. “I was surprised to learn from my wife that you would be here tonight.”

  Lady Margery gave Jack a pleading look, and her voice shook. “I had not planned on it, but then I ran into Lady Gilchrest and her husband on Market Street, yesterday. I knew Lady Chivington had invited them, so I begged them to come to tonight’s gathering. I thought you and Lady Ardmore could use their support.”

  Jack’s eyes briefly widened before he masked his startled expression. He turned to Gilchrest, brows raised. “Is that true?”

  Gilchrest nodded, but said nothing, despite the curious glint in his eyes.

  Jack looked at his aunt, suspicion evident in the hard planes of his face and the terseness of his reply. “Why? You had no way of knowing we would attend tonight. It was only at Mr. Halsey’s insistence that I agreed to come. And you had no way of knowing that.”

  “I have never met Mr. Halsey, but we attended some of the same social functions a year or two ago, and I assumed he would want to show off his daughter and her new husband. So, I hoped you would be here, and I knew how fond you are of Lord Gilchrest.” She inhaled sharply and cast a sympathetic look in Abby’s direction. “You know how your cousin is, Ardmore, and while I know Morris’ behavior is not always appropriate, he has been a devoted son. Still, I cannot condone his behavior or the way he has talked about you and your wife since learning of your nuptials and the birth of your son.”

  Just then, Mr. Flick pushed through the crowd, his face a mask of rage and pain. Jack stiffened and pulled Abby closer to his side. Lady Margery and Mr. Stanley stepped closer as well, as if attempting to form a protective circle around her. Abby’s heart thumped with fear and gratitude.

  “Why, Mother?” Mr. Flick glared at his mother with sad, bloodshot eyes. His breath reeked of alcohol. “Why have you betrayed me?”

  “Morris, please,” she said, her voice soft and pleading. “This is neither the time nor the place. Go home. We shall discuss this later.”

  “Home?” He nearly shrieked and had it not been for the swelling crescendo of the orchestra, Abby was sure every eye in the room would have turned toward him to stare. “We have no home! Jack has evicted us. Or have you forgotten? We are to be cast out on the streets with nary a sixpence to our name.”

  Abby squeezed Jack’s arm, panic welling in her chest. She had feared a confrontation with Lord Drury or Lord Ruston. She had not expected Jack’s cousin to create such a spectacle. Jack patted her hand and then released her. He stepped forward and clasped his cousin’s shoulder in a firm grip that caused Mr. Flick to flinch.

  “Calm down, Morris. You are creating a scene.”

  Mr. Flick tried to shrug out of Jack’s grip, but when Jack did not loosen his hold, his face crumpled. “And you have wreaked havoc on my life.”

  Jack’s gripped tightened. Mr. Flick whimpered. Instead of wringing his neck as Abby feared, Jack steered him toward the glass doors leading out onto the veranda. Fearing Jack would toss him over the balcony, Abby followed. So did Lady Margery, Mr. Stanley, and Lord and Lady Gilchrest. Apparently, none of them trusted Jack’s temper any more than she did.

  “Jack—Ardmore, please!” Lady Margery whimpered as she slipped outside behind the rest of them and closed the glass doors behind her.

  Jack dragged Mr. Flick into a shadowy corner of the veranda and pushed him against the brick wall, his forearm pressed against his throat. Abby touched his shoulder, fear tightening her chest. “Jack, no!”

  He cast her a hard glance, but then his eyes softened. “Trust me.”

  Dare she? Jack had a volatile temper, but would he commit murder before witnesses? Doubtful. But did she trust him not to do something so outrageous that neither of them would ever be able to set foot in society again? Most assuredly not!

  She cast a glance over her shoulder at the rest of the assembly. Lady Margery’s pale face seemed to glow in the moonlight and terror shown in her eyes. Mr. Stanley merely raised a curious brow while Lady Gilchrest clung to her husband’s arm, quietly pleading with him to “do something.”

  Lord Gilchrest smiled. “Need any help, Jack?”

  Jack met his friend’s gaze, brows arched. “Oh, so now it’s Jack again, is it?”

  “You seem to be acting more like a pirate captain than a peer,” Lord Gilchrest said with a shrug. “But if you need help, just let me know. I am here for you, my friend.”

  “Then be a friend and stop him from doing something foolish,” Lady Gilchrest hissed.

  Abby stood rooted to the spot, her hand o
n Jack’s shoulder. Mr. Stanley and Lord Gilchrest did not seem nearly as concerned as the women. Perhaps they knew Jack better? Or perhaps, they did not care as much.

  “Trust me,” Jack said again.

  Abby glanced once more at Mr. Flick. Sweat beaded his brow and his eyes bulged, but he did not seem to be in immediate danger so she dropped her hand to her side and gave Jack a stern warning. “Do not let your temper best you.”

  He nodded and turned back to Mr. Flick. He pressed a little harder against his windpipe. Just when Abby feared he would choke the life out of his cousin, Jack released him.

  Mr. Flick sagged against the wall, his breath coming in panting gasped. “You nearly killed me!”

  “Trust me, dear cousin, had I wanted you dead, I would have taken care of it already, and I would not have done so before witnesses. Now stop sniveling and listen for once in your miserable life.”

  “How dare you!”

  Jack smacked the side of his head with the flat of his hand. “Shut up.”

  Eyes wide and face aflame, Mr. Flick grabbed his cheek but closed his mouth. Jack nodded as if satisfied and took a single step back. He raked his cousin with contemptuous eyes and sneered. “If it were up to me, you would be living in some dank gutter, drowning your sorrows in cheap swill from a disease infested tavern in the slums of London.”

  “And what of my mother?” Mr. Flick asked through tears that now filled his bloodshot eyes. “She is old, and she is fragile.”

  Jack shrugged. “I should not care. You see, I know how much money my father bequeathed to you and Aunt Margery. You received that money months ago, before the official reading of the will. Even after I found the new will and the money he had saved for the repairs to Rams Head in the safe, there should have been enough money for you and your mother to live a modest life.”

  Lady Margery gasped and looked at her son. “Is this true, Morris? If we have money—”

  “Had, Mother! We had money.” He stepped away from the wall and turned furious eyes on her. “But there were dressmakers and balls, gaming debts, and travel expenses.” He turned glaring eyes on Jack and pointed a shaking finger. “And servants! I had to pay your servants from that money. The very least you can do is reimburse me for that now.”

  Jack nodded. “It is the least I can do. And if it were not for my wife, it would be the only thing I ever did for either of you. But she has a much more generous heart than I will ever have. So, if you will keep your mouth shut and stay out of my way for the remainder of the evening, I will meet with the two of you tomorrow to discuss your future living arrangements.”

  “Will I at least have a decent allowance?” Mr. Flick asked in a pleading tone.

  Jack snorted. “No. You will have a job. Now get out of my sight and take your mother with you.”

  Lady Margery took a hesitant step forward. “Thank you, Jack.”

  “Do not thank me, madam. Thank my wife. For if not for her, the two of you would be out on the streets.”

  She turned watery eyes on Abby and smiled. Her trembling hands reached for hers. “Thank you, my dear. Thank you.”

  ****

  Abby watched through the glass doors as Mr. Flick and his mother disappeared into the crowd inside the ballroom. Those still gathered on the balcony seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

  “Well played, Ardmore,” Lord Gilchrest said.

  Jack arched his brows. “Make up your mind, Gilchrest. Am I Jack or Ardmore?”

  “That was not a Jack move. It seemed more like one of Quentin’s tactics—much more noble than a mere pirate.” He looked at Quentin, a mischievous gleam in his ice blue gaze. “We just might make a decent viscount of him yet.”

  “It has been quite the struggle,” Mr. Stanley said with a long-suffering sigh. “Although he is much more trainable than I would have imagined.”

  “Perhaps his wife has something to do with that,” Lady Gilchrest added. “What man is not improved by a good wife?”

  “I am not a damn dog in need of training,” Jack grumbled, but then he stepped closer to Abby and pulled her under his arm. “However, I cannot argue with your logic, Nikki. Abby is indeed the best of wives.”

  Abby’s fears melted under the weight of Jack’s arm. Her heart filled with hope. Was it possible she might get through the remainder of the evening unscathed? Was it possible she might make a real marriage with Jack?

  She clung to his arm as their little group trouped back inside the ballroom. But before she could breathe a sigh of relief, she spotted Lady Edwina. Lord Drury and a plain-faced woman followed closely on her heels. Abby’s breath froze in her lungs, but her heart nearly leapt from her chest. If not for the weight of Jack’s arm pulling her more firmly to his side, she would have been tempted to run back out onto the veranda and hide.

  “Abby!” Lady Edwina rushed forward and reached for her hands. Clasping them in her own, she said, “Mother said you were here. Wherever have you been?”

  Abby swallowed her nerves and gave her friend’s fingers a nervous squeeze before releasing them. “We were out on the veranda, taking in the night air.”

  “No, silly.” Lady Edwina spoke to Abby, but her gaze strayed to Jack. “Where have you been for the last six months? Your father told my mother you were visiting friends in the country, but you did not even write.”

  When had the duchess asked about her? Tonight? Months ago? What had her father said? He was such an elaborate storyteller, keeping people enthralled with whatever tale he told. How many details had he peppered into the story of her travels to make them seem more real? How could she possibly respond without running the risk of Edwina and Lord Drury catching her in a lie?

  Jack’s arm tightened around her waist, but her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth, and the words would not come. She pressed her sweat-dampened palms against her skirts and took a deep breath. “I—”

  “You must be Lady Edwina,” Jack said coming to her rescue. “I am afraid I am somewhat to blame for her disappearance. When Abby—Miss Halsey and I met outside of her father’s store the year before last, I was completely taken by her beauty, but I had to sail back to America. I returned six months later and promised more than I could deliver. You see, the war in American delayed my permanent return to England, and my dear Abby was left waiting.”

  “I am sorry I did not confide in you, my dearest friend,” Abby added once she found her voice. “But he was gone for so long that I feared he would not return. So, I spent my summer in the country with friends.” She affixed her gaze to Lady Edwina, trying to avoid eye contact with Lord Drury or his plain-faced wife. But she could not help squirming under the weight of Simon’s stare. She felt his eyes on her, crawling over her like bugs beneath her skin. She wanted to scratch until she bled. She wanted to throw herself into the river and wash the feel of his lecherous hands from her body. She wanted to—

  “But I found her as promised and made her my wife,” Jack interjected, as if completing the final lines of a fairytale. But this was no fairytale. It was beginning to feel like a nightmare. Lord Drury would not stay silent for long. With or without his wife by his side, he would say something to put her in her place and prove to everyone standing near that she was not welcomed in polite society.

  “Oh how romantic,” Lady Edwina gushed. But Lord Drury’s gaze narrowed, and a smirk colored his expression when he gazed at Jack.

  “And who might you be?” He spoke in a droll tone and somehow managed to look down at Jack while looking up to his superior height.

  Abby felt the tension in Jack’s body as surely as she felt the fear coursing through her own veins. But he simply smiled, a mere quirking of his lips that made him look dashing and noble. “I am Jackson Norton, Viscount Ardmore and Miss Halsey is now my viscountess and the mother of my son.”

  Lady Edwina gasped, as did Lady Victoria who was now Lady Drury, Simon Weston’s wife. Lord Drury smirked, but he did not look noble or dashing.

  Why did I ever
think him handsome or charming? Lord Drury was a disreputable rake posing as a gentleman. Jack had more character in the bottom of his boot than Simon Weston possessed in his entire body.

  Lady Edwina flushed prettily and shuffled her feet. “I did not know you were—that you had—I did not know you were a mother.”

  Despite a maiden’s reinforced ignorance on anything related to the marriage bed or childbirth, she was not a complete ninny. Even innocent Edwina would know Abby had not been chaste when she wed Jack. Would she also guess the child was not his?

  She knew of Abby’s former fondness for Lord Drury. Would she assume the worst? Or would her innocence prevent her mind from traveling in that direction?

  Abby held her breath. Lady Drury blinked like an owl, but she did not look wise. She looked confused and quite sad. Lord Drury smirked. Again. “How old is the boy?”

  Nausea roiled up from the pit of Abby’s stomach, and she nearly wretched. Jack’s muscles coiled. She felt it in the arm still wrapped around her waist. He smiled politely and stared beyond Lord Drury as if bored with his company. “Just a few months. He arrived earlier than expected.”

  Mr. Stanley walked up on the other side of Jack and slapped him on the back. “The boy looks like his mother, but he’s growing like a weed. I swear, he is going to be every bit as tall as his father. Do you not agree, Ardmore?”

  “I cannot wait to see him,” Lady Gilchrest said. She could not know Lord Drury was Will’s father, but she could not miss the threatening undercurrents of tension flowing between Jack and Lord Drury. “Ardmore is such a proud new father.”

  “Embarrassingly so,” Lord Gilchrest added.

  “What father would not be proud of his son and heir?” Jack drilled Lord Drury with hard, threatening eyes as if daring him to say another word.

  Lady Edwina and Lady Drury exchanged confused glances.

  “Congratulations,” Lady Edwina said after a moment’s hesitation.

  “Yes. Indeed.” Lady Drury’s soft words were barely audible.