Jack of Hearts

by Marjorie Farrell

  This time, Helen turned to her sister and said fiercely, “Hush, Liddy, or I will have Mother send you upstairs.”

  Lydia sat back with a red face and muttered an apology.

  “There is no need to apologize. What picture was this that Jack sold, Lady Helen?”

  Helen considered sparing Jack embarrassment by downplaying his sacrifice. But he had made such a thoughtful and romantic gesture that she decided his fiancée needed to know about it. Especially since they were marrying for such unromantic reasons.

  “My cousin had a small portrait of our great-great-grandfather. Jack looks very much like him.”

  “I hope it wasn’t the only likeness!”

  “There is a larger one at my grandmother’s home. But I know this was his favorite. I believe Jack wanted to make sure that his engagement present was a true gift,” Helen added, trying to be as subtle as possible.

  “I understand, and I very much appreciate it,” Anne told her softly.

  “But I am sure he didn’t want you to know, which is why I am so angry at Liddy.”

  Anne smiled. “She is a delightfully open child, but openness can sometimes cause embarrassment. I will keep this our secret, at least for now. And I wish you would call me Anne, now that we are to be related, Lady Helen.”

  “Then you must call me Helen. I want to tell you how happy I am you chose Jack over Baron Leighton. His daughter was not as respectful as she might have been…” Helen’s voice trailed off.

  “Tha means she was a right witch, doesn’t tha?” replied Anne with dry humor. “And I suspect tha was as much of a long-tongue as tha sister when tha was younger, lass.”

  Helen blushed. “Mother despaired of ever teaching me manners. But I haven’t disgraced myself in years.”

  “You are a daughter to be proud of, Helen, and I am happy to call you cousin,” Anne told her warmly.

  * * * *

  Elspeth and Val had been so busy with their guests that Anne had no chance to visit with them until later in the evening. “I cannot thank you enough, Elspeth,” she told her friend. “Your party has been the perfect way to celebrate my success. All my favorite people are here and none of the spiteful gossips.”

  “That doesn’t mean no one is gossiping, Anne,” Elspeth warned her with a smile.

  “But not spitefully!”

  “No, most have been talking about how beautifully your necklace complements your gown.”

  “It is beautiful, isn’t it? It was Jack’s engagement present.”

  “I know. The first thing he said to me tonight was ‘Do you think I chose well, Elspeth?’ ”

  “I understand Lady Helen had a hand in choosing it.” Anne hesitated. “Are people assuming that Jack spent my money, Elspeth?”

  “No one here would be that crass, Anne.”

  “But I am sure they are wondering.”

  “Do you care? Everything Jack has will come from you.”

  “I care only because it does him an injustice, Elspeth. Lady Lydia blurted out that he sold a painting for it.”

  “That child is incorrigible!”

  “I like her. In fact, she reminds me of you!”

  “I was never that blunt,” protested Elspeth.

  “Almost as bad when we were at school.” They both laughed their agreement, and then Anne said seriously, “It seems Jack valued this painting very much. It was a portrait of his Spanish great-great-grandfather.”

  “It was likely all he had left to sell.”

  “I am touched he would make such a sacrifice for me.”

  Elspeth wanted to say, He loves you, so he was happy to make it, but it wasn’t her place to reveal Jack’s secret. “He is a sensitive man, and whether people would know or not, he probably felt it more honorable to make sure his gift was truly a gift.”

  “It’s a gesture I wouldn’t have expected from him,” Anne confessed. “I think I have had an image of him from our first meeting that I have never quite let go of.”

  “The devil-may-care ‘Jack of Hearts’?”

  “He seemed like a man not overly careful of women’s feelings.”

  “Only if you listen to the gossips. Or did not see that the young ladies whose hearts he supposedly stole were quite eager to hand them over to any man who fit their fantasies.”

  “You and Val have always painted a different picture, but Leighton and Windham appeared so much more trustworthy.”

  “They are both likable gentlemen, so there is no need to apologize for preferring them at the time. But now that you’re marrying Jack, I’m glad you are beginning to see him more clearly.”

  Anne looked across the room at Val and Jack, chatting with Captain Scott. Val Aston was a striking man, with his hawk-like nose and broad shoulders. Captain Scott was another good-looking man, very handsome in his regimentals. But Jack Belden, whose face changed like quicksilver, was one of the most attractive men she had ever met. She could admit it now and felt a stirring of desire. It would seem that whatever one’s motive for marriage, one could so easily be deceived by external appearances. She had only seen the positive qualities of Lord Leighton and Lord Windham. What if she had married either one of them and then found out about Lady Eliza or Windham’s wounded heart?

  With Jack, she had seen only the negatives, the aspects of him that were most on the surface. Although all three men had the same motive—her fortune—she had allowed herself to see the others’ feelings of affection for her. But she had never taken Jack Belden seriously. She had dismissed him early on, and despite their growing friendship, had never completely let go of her early suspicions. But any man who would make such a sacrifice was a man who cared for her.

  She was very grateful, she realized, for she might well have made a match that gave her more than she had hoped for.

  As though he was aware of her eyes on him, Jack turned and smiled. His smile was so warm, so approving, that Anne felt she was melting in its warmth. She found herself hoping they would find some time alone before the night was over.

  * * * *

  Jack was hoping the same thing, but unfortunately, it was a chilly night and the Faringdon town house had only a small garden. There was a conservatory, however, and he intended to maneuver Anne there as soon as possible.

  It took almost all his patience to wait through the next few dances, but finally the musicians announced a break. “I am going to claim some time with my fiancée,” he told Lord Lovett, her last dance partner, and he whisked Anne away from him.

  “Have you seen Lord Faringdon’s conservatory, Anne?”

  “No, although I have heard it is quite lovely.” Anne sounded calm, but in fact her heart was beating erratically at the thought of being alone with him.

  The earl had imported several small orange trees from Spain, and the scent of their blossoms was intoxicatingly sweet. As they walked slowly around the perimeter of the semicircular room, Anne was disappointed to see that there seemed to be no place for two people to sit. But finally they reached a small window seat.

  “This is not very comfortable, but it will have to do,” Jack muttered as he pulled her down next to him and then almost immediately leaned down and kissed her. He did not begin with gentle exploration, but took possession of her mouth with a hunger that stimulated her own. One moment, she surrendered herself to him, and then, in the next, she was demanding as much from him as he was from her. Soon she lost all sense of who was kissing, who was being kissed, for they seemed to have become one person.

  The kiss went on forever and at the same time ended too soon.

  “God, I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” Jack murmured, his face buried in her neck.

  “And I have been wanting you to,” confessed Anne, ducking her face in embarrassment.

  “So you enjoy our kisses,” he teased.

  “Very much. Too much.”

  “Too much?”

  “I’m afraid I’ll get lost in them and never find my way back.”

  Jack pulled away a
nd looked down at her. “Back to where, my love?” he asked softly.

  “To solid ground, to what is familiar…kisses aren’t practical,” Anne said wildly, knowing she was making little sense.

  “The ever-so-practical Anne Heriot,” said Jack with a teasing grin. “Sometimes you have to let go of solid ground, Anne. Sometimes you have to lose in order to gain. I hope I can show you that with more than kisses,” he whispered, as his long fingers slipped beneath her bodice and cupped her breast. As his thumb circled, she felt again a flood of warmth deep within and wanted something more from him, though she was not sure what that was.

  When he took his hand away, she gave a little moan, for she thought he was going to pull away from her. Instead he gently lifted her gown and trailed his finger up her thigh. She gave a little gasp of surprise and then pleasure when his finger slid into her. How had he known just where she was melting down to? As he began to stroke, she was very still, and he began to lift her up and up, only to bring her down shuddering in his arms.

  Jack had always taken pleasure at bringing a woman pleasure, but he had never before been the first, never before felt a woman he loved trembling in his arms. He wanted to take her then and there, but at the same time he marveled at how he didn’t need to, because her pleasure felt like it was his own.

  Well, almost didn’t need to, he thought with ironic humor as he shifted a little so he was not so close to her. He hoped his arousal would subside, for they would have to return to the ballroom soon. They were betrothed, it was true, but he didn’t want people gossiping any more than they were already.

  “Are you all right, Anne?”

  Anne didn’t know what to say. She had never felt so much herself in her life, and yet she had never dreamed herself capable of such abandon. She couldn’t look at Jack, couldn’t let him see her, so she kept her head down as she nervously straightened her gown and smoothed her hair.

  “Yes, I am fine, but shouldn’t we be getting back?”

  “Yes, in a minute or two.” She could hear the ironic humor in his voice and realized what he meant. She had grown up in the country and was not ignorant of male anatomy, but she hadn’t been thinking much of him at all, just of the delightful things he had been doing to her.

  “I am sorry. Should I have been doing something for you…?” Her voice trailed off, and Jack gave such a delighted laugh that Anne finally relaxed and laughed with him.

  “There will be many opportunities in the future, I hope, so you can even out the debits and the credits, my dear, if that is what you are worried about.”

  His image was so absurd and yet so apt that Anne could not get it out of her mind as they finally made their way back to the ballroom. Column one: kisses. There the sums added up. They were even. Column two: intimate caresses. Oh, dear, she was in debt there. Column three: exquisite and indescribable pleasure. His credit was so large she couldn’t imagine how she could ever make it up, but only hoped she would find a way.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Anne fell asleep quickly that night and slept much later than usual. When she awoke, she could hear the patter of raindrops against the window and burrowed under the covers. The rhythm of the rain was lulling her into a delicious state between waking and sleeping, where she could imagine herself in Jack’s arms, when she heard a knock at her door.

  “What is it?” she called, annoyed at the interruption.

  “Begging your pardon, miss, but Miss Wheeler told me to tell you that Sergeant Gillen is here.”

  Anne shook her head to clear it. “Sergeant Gillen? He can’t be here, he’s in Yorkshire.”

  “He rode all the way, miss, and a right mess he is too. It looks like he hasn’t slept for days.”

  “Hand me my wrapper, Mary.” What on earth had brought Patrick Gillen to London? Anne worried as she tied her dressing gown around her.

  “Where is the sergeant, Mary?”

  “In the kitchen, miss. Miss Wheeler is trying to get him to eat something, but he says he can’t relax until he speaks to you.”

  Anne hurried down to the kitchen and there was Patrick Gillen, looking just as exhausted as Mary had described. He was standing by the stove, warming his hands while Sarah sat and watched him.

  “Whatever are you doing here, Patrick?” Anne exclaimed.

  “I am sorry to break in on ye in such a state, Miss Heriot, but I couldn’t trust the news to anyone else.”

  “Sit down, Patrick, and tell me.” Anne slipped into a chair and motioned him into another.

  He sat down at last and, running a hand through his hair, turned his head so his good eye faced her. “There’s been trouble at the Shipton mill, Miss Heriot.”

  “What kind of trouble, Patrick?”

  “A fire in the sorting shed, which burned it to the ground.”

  Anne gasped. “The children?”

  “No, no, they’re all right. It was at night. Yer cousin thinks it was Ned Gibson, miss, and he has all the bloody troopers in Yorkshire out lookin’ for him.”

  Anne was quiet for a minute, then said regretfully, “I should have settled this before I left. I should have done something about Ned Gibson.”

  “He certainly had a motive, Anne,” Sarah said quietly.

  “Revenge for being let go,” agreed Anne.

  “Or determination that the machine would be replaced,” Patrick said coolly. “But this time I am not sure Ned Gibson is behind it at all.”

  “But who else would have a reason, Patrick?”

  “Yer cousin, for one.”

  “Joseph! Why, he would never do anything to slow production,” responded Anne with a touch of humor.

  “Under usual circumstances, no. But the news of yer betrothal might have driven him to it.”

  “What do you mean, Patrick? He has known I wouldn’t marry him for months.”

  “ ‘Tis one thing to know something and another entirely to see it become real.”

  “I know you don’t like Joseph, Patrick, but you are letting it cloud your judgment,” Anne said disapprovingly.

  “I don’t think Ned Gibson is a violent man.” Patrick hesitated. “Yer cousin has written to you with the news of the fire, but I wanted to make sure you heard it from me first. If you return to Yorkshire before you’re married and another ‘accident’ occurs, then Trantor inherits everything.”

  “What do you recommend, Patrick?” Anne asked coolly.

  “I don’t know when ye’re planning to get married, miss, but I suggest ye don’t return to Yorkshire until ye’ve tied the knot!”

  “I am planning to marry in the Wetherby chapel, Patrick,” Anne said stiffly. “I don’t believe my cousin is capable of harming me.”

  She stood up. “Make sure the sergeant gets some food into him, Sarah. And order hot water for a bath. You look about ready to collapse, Patrick,” she continued, her tone softening. “I may not agree with you about my cousin, but I’m grateful for your loyalty.”

  * * * *

  “Bloody stubborn woman,” exclaimed Patrick after the kitchen door closed behind Anne. “She should not go back to Wetherby until she is Lady Aldborough. At least she chose Jack Belden. She’s a smart lass in everything but this.”

  Sarah busied herself at the stove, filling the teapot and dishing out a bowl of porridge, which she set in front of Patrick.

  “Do you really think she would be in danger?”

  Patrick looked up from his porridge, which was half eaten already. “By God, I was hungry! As for Joseph Trantor… I don’t know, Sarah. But ‘tis better to take no chances, don’t ye agree? If she comes back as Miss Heriot, he still has a chance…”

  “To do what, Patrick? To kill her?” Sarah shivered.

  “Maybe not. Maybe only to frighten her into marrying him.”

  “Why wouldn’t he have done that sooner?”

  “I don’t have any answers, Sarah. But there are enough questions to keep her in London till she is Lady Aldborough.”

  “On that part, we�
�re agreed.”

  “So ye’ll convince her?”

  “Yes, and you might work on Lord Aldborough. But not until you’ve had time to rest.”

  “I’m not fit to be showin’ myself to anyone this way,” muttered Patrick. “I didn’t expect to be seein’ ye here in the kitchen, Sarah,” he added with an embarrassed smile. “I thought ye’d be enjoyin’ yer rest after a night of dancin’. I’m assumin’ ye’ve been doin’ a good deal of dancin’ here in London.”

  “I have been fortunate enough to meet a few gentlemen who make sure I am not holding up the wall,” Sarah told him stiffly, hurt that he seemed to be pleased that she’d been enjoying herself.

  Patrick stumbled up. “I’m just goin’ to fall into bed, so don’t ye bother with the hot water till later,” he told her.

  “Just tell Mrs. Collins when you want it, then, Patrick.”

  Sarah sat there after he left, looking down at her cup of tea. It had been weeks since she’d seen him, and he’d hardly looked at her. Here she had been foolishly missing him, and he had clearly forgotten her and the kisses they’d shared.

  * * * *

  Anne dressed quickly and had a footman bring her some tea and muffins in the morning room. She sat in front of the fire, listening to the rain beat down against the window, nibbling absentmindedly at her muffin. She couldn’t believe her cousin would wish to harm her. She had never believed it. He might be a harsh man, but surely he had a fondness for her, not just for her fortune. No, Ned Gibson was the most likely culprit. She would have to leave London as soon as possible. It wouldn’t look good to go so soon after her betrothal, but she couldn’t worry about the gossips. They would think that she cared nothing for Jack, that she had gone home as soon as she’d gotten what she came for. But they would have thought that anyway, she told herself, whomever she married and however she married him. She hoped Jack would understand why she had to go. The mills were as important to him now as they were to her, albeit for different reasons.

  She sighed. She had to admit to herself, at least, that she didn’t want to go, that for once in her life she didn’t wish to be practical. She had wanted to play the lady this morning, to stay in bed and imagine what it would be like to lie there on a rainy morning with Jack Belden beside her. She had wanted to dream about his kisses, to lose herself in the memory of the pleasure he had given her. And to daydream of the musicale tonight, where they might have found some time to be alone together. She wanted another few weeks of enjoying just how compatible she and her husband-to-be were, at least in one area of marriage.