He stiffened. “What about your father?”
“All my life I’ve adored my father. I never had a doubt he loved me and wanted what was best for me. After Conrath, I had no desire to make a transatlantic marriage, but my mother insisted we do a London season anyway. The longer we were here, the more sure I was that my future was back home in New York.”
“And your mother disagreed.”
“Oh, yes. We fought like cats and dogs. But Daddy backed me up, assuring me he was on my side and that I was right to hold out for what I wanted. That night in Newport, I found out it wasn’t my happiness he was thinking of at all. The whole time he was pretending to support me and what I wanted, he was making his own plans with Franklin MacKay for me to marry Davis when we came home. It was never about me or my happiness, it was about him wanting to use me to make a business deal.”
“Hell.” Jack let out his breath, tilting his head back. “Holy hell.”
She couldn’t help a wry smile at his reaction. “Yes, that’s rather how I felt.”
He lowered his head, looking at the ground, and sighed again. “Linnet, I think your father loves you—”
“Oh, yes,” she cut in, the words bitter on her tongue. “Using me to make a profit. That’s love, no doubt about it.”
Jack looked up again, into her face. “Things aren’t always black and white, Linnet. There might be—” He broke off circumstances. “Hell,” he said again. “I’m sorry.”
She waved a hand, for she didn’t want to talk about Daddy. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, I no longer trust my feelings to guide me. A sensible decision based on facts is wiser.”
“Why? You’re just as likely to make a mistake over a decision based on facts as you are one made based on your instincts.”
“Mistakes happen, is that what you mean?”
“Yes, and it’s not always a bad thing when they do.” He moved closer, glanced at the doorway, gave a sigh that told her Lady Trubridge was still watching them, and stopped. “Some of my biggest mistakes have led to some of the best things in my life. Kissing you being a prime example.”
Uncertainty twisted her heart with a painful pang. “You don’t know that kissing me was one of the best things of your life,” she said in a fierce whisper. “You can’t possibly know that.”
“But I do know. I know it because I feel it.”
“So I should just trust to my feelings no matter what?” She shook her head. “That’s a very convenient philosophy for you to offer me now, given that just last night I confessed no other man makes me feel the way you do.”
He chuckled suddenly.
“What’s so amusing?”
“You and convenience coupled together. It’s a bit like oil and water, or matches and dynamite.” He must have sensed she still didn’t find that humorous, for he sobered at once. “Do you regret kissing me last night?”
“It’s not that simple. This isn’t just about the glorious feeling you get when someone kisses you.”
“Was it glorious?”
She didn’t answer, and he took another step closer, then glanced at the doorway and stopped again. But he didn’t give up the question. “I know how I felt, and I think you felt it, too. But then, I thought the same thing in Newport, before you cut me down to size, and I’m not taking anything for granted. So answer my question. Last night . . . was it glorious?”
She looked at him, feeling wretched, doubts and desires clawing at her. “You know it was,” she whispered.
“Well, then . . .” He lifted his hands and let them fall with a sound of exasperation. “Then why won’t you marry me? Why are you being so stubborn?”
The word flicked her on the raw. “Is that what I’m being? Stubborn? So it’s stubborn of me, is it, to want to make a considered choice about whom to spend my life with?”
“I don’t know. But I do know this is the second time you’ve stood in my hearing and tried to reason yourself into picking Carrington or Hansborough over me, and it’s getting a bit wearing.”
“Well, pardon me for wearing on you,” she shot back, working to keep her voice low even as she felt her temper giving way. “Pardon me for not being willing to commit my entire future to you based on two kisses and a blueberry muffin.”
“It’s a better basis for making a decision than trying to talk yourself into it. Especially considering that last night you wrapped your arms around my neck and kissed me of your own free will.”
“Sshhh,” she admonished, casting a frantic look at the doorway.
He didn’t seem to care, for he took another step closer, but when he spoke, his voice was a murmur. “A kiss you just admitted was glorious.”
“I’m also saying there’s more to making a decision of whom to marry than a man’s kissing ability.” She took a step closer, too, for she had to make it clear that she wouldn’t be railroaded into a decision when her life and her future hung in the balance. “My future is at stake, and I have a much better idea of what sort of future I’d have with the duke or Hansborough than with you.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear how you come to that conclusion.”
“Well, not because I’ve kissed them, that’s for sure. Though maybe I should, since you seem to think it’s such an important part of the decision.”
His expression grew grim at the prospect. “The fact that you think it isn’t important is what baffles me.”
She took a deep breath, working to keep her temper in check. “I know the duke has proved himself to be a good husband and father already. His first marriage was a happy one, and his two daughters think the world of him. Lady Trubridge tells me Hansborough has four sisters, and all of them adore him—”
“I’m sorry I don’t have sisters or daughters who adore me or a previous happy marriage to my credit so that I might prove my worth as a husband and father. But I couldn’t afford to marry a poor girl, for I’d have had no way to support her, and I couldn’t bear to marry a rich girl and have everyone think me a fortune hunter. So what do you want from me, Linnet? How do I prove myself?”
“I don’t know, Jack.” She lifted her hands helplessly. “Demonstrate to me what kind of husband you would be, what kind of father you would be, what kind of life we would have. How you prove those things is up to you, but until you can show me what kind of life I would have with you, until you’ve demonstrated that I can trust you, I can’t agree to marry you.”
“So last night counts for nothing?”
“It wasn’t nothing, but it wasn’t everything either. Marriage is a long business. I’m trying to make a careful and considered choice.”
“The longer you take to make that choice, the more likely it becomes that your reputation will be damaged beyond repair.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Believe me, I don’t want to spend my life in ruin and disgrace, shamed and pitied and ostracized by society. But I also need time to decide which man is my best choice, not just for the sake of my reputation but also for the sake of my future.”
“But damn it all, Linnet, I am that man. I know it.”
“How?” she cried, then bit her lip, glancing through the doorway to find Lady Trubridge still watching them from the drawing room. “How do you know?”
“I just do.” He pressed his fingers to his chest, not to his heart, but to a point just below it. “I know it here.”
“What are you saying? That you’re in love with me?”
He blinked at the question, taken aback. “I am,” he said after a moment, then he laughed as if confounded by a wholly unexpected discovery. “By God, I really am.”
She stared back at him, dismayed. She’d asked the question fully expecting either an ardent and eloquent declaration of love meant to lull her into a decision, or a light, witty equivocation that meant nothing at all. But he’d given her neither. When he spoke of love, he sounded . . . damn it all, he sounded sincere.
Pleasure kindled inside her at the realization, pleasure that warmed her heart an
d aroused her senses, until she remembered that she wasn’t a good judge of any man’s sincerity.
In their first meeting, he’d given her every reason to mistrust him and his motives. Less than three weeks had passed since then, hardly time for him to assuage her doubts, but she didn’t have the luxury of waiting until he redeemed himself. On the other hand, how could she fall in love with a man she’d didn’t trust? How could she trust a man she didn’t know? How could she ever learn to believe in him when she couldn’t even believe in herself? Her whole future hung on her decision, a decision that once made, was irrevocable. What if she made the wrong one?
All her doubts and fears rose, stifling pleasure, bringing panic, and she groaned. “Being around you is like being on a roller coaster. Every second a new twist or turn or drop off a cliff.”
He grinned, seeming to enjoy the comparison. “Don’t you like roller coasters?”
“No, I don’t. I rode the Switchback Railway at Coney Island when I was sixteen. When it was over, I stepped out of the carriage onto the platform, doubled over, and threw up all over my shoes. It was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life.” She scowled at him. “A bit like the kiss in Newport, when I think about it.”
His grin faltered, and he gave her a doubtful look. “You didn’t go home after the ball and throw up, did you?”
“No, but—”
“Then we’ll be all right,” he said, his grin coming back, all his cocksure confidence seeming to return with it. “I just have to make you love me, too.”
“This is the same battle we keep fighting. I can’t be made to love you any more than I can be made to marry you.”
“You want me, though. I know you do. And I think you could love me if you let yourself.”
“How do you know?” she demanded, hating how sure he was of everything when she was a muddled mess of doubts and fears. “Because of a kiss?”
She stepped back before he could reply, shaking her head in denial, panic pressing up against her chest and making it hard to breathe. “A kiss isn’t everything, Jack.”
He sobered at once. “It was for me, Linnet,” he said simply, and it was his turn to take a step back. He opened his arms, spreading them wide. “It was for me.”
His arms fell to his sides, and he turned and walked away, down the steps and into the shadows beyond the terrace.
“But that’s the difference between us, Jack,” she whispered into the darkness. “I don’t trust my feelings. Not anymore.”
THE DISCOVERY THAT he was in love with Linnet wasn’t any great surprise when he thought about it. She’d owned his body and soul since Newport; why not his heart as well?
It had settled into him like a fact of life the moment he’d admitted it. Not that the admission had done him much good, for she’d seemed dismayed by it rather than glad, relieved, or reassured. He didn’t blame her for her reaction, he supposed, given everything that had happened. She didn’t trust him, and why should she? The Van Hausen business, he appreciated with chagrin, still hung between them, and it probably always would, a secret he’d never be able to tell her. She wanted him to prove she could trust him with her future, but was that even possible?
Conrath had broken her heart, Van Hausen had shamefully attempted to use her. The men who had betrayed her in the past made his efforts to gain her trust even harder.
Even my own father . . .
Jack frowned, staring up at the ceiling of his room as he lay in bed late that night, her words from earlier echoing back to him.
It was never about me or my happiness, it was about him wanting to use me to make a business deal.
There was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice, and he couldn’t blame her. This was why Ephraim hadn’t wanted him to tell her about the deal they’d made in New York. The other man had been sure Linnet would never agree to marry him if she knew of it. Jack feared he might be right.
Still, there was no reason to bring up the issue of the African investment company until she had agreed to marry him. Then, perhaps, he could soften her stance toward business deals with her father if he put it to her the right way. Once they were engaged, once Ephraim came and they were negotiating the marriage settlement, then he’d explain to her why he wanted it, why investments like this were a good way to secure the future of their estates and their children, and that through those investments, he could earn his living, hopefully she’d understand. In any case, explanations of the business deal could wait.
Right now, winning her was a much greater priority. Without that, the dowry meant nothing anyway. And despite his declaration of love, it was clear that winning Linnet’s hand in marriage was by no means a certainty. The question was how on earth was he to persuade her? It wasn’t as if he could use seduction. Belinda had taken that strategy off the table. What other courses were open to him?
Demonstrate to me what kind of husband you would be, what kind of father you would be, what kind of life I would have with you.
Jack sat up in bed, struck by a sudden idea. He could show her at least part of what she wanted to see. It wouldn’t be all that difficult either, he realized, thinking it out. Tomorrow afternoon over tea, he decided, would be the perfect time for just the sort of demonstration she demanded. And, he realized, it would serve a secondary purpose, too, one that would give him a great deal of satisfaction.
He grinned, savoring it, and fell back into the pillows. Five minutes later, he fell asleep, the grin still on his face.
THERE WERE SOME moments in a man’s life when luck was everything. But luck, Jack knew, could often be helped along if a man employed a bit of forethought and put in some effort. The morning following his declaration of love to Linnet, Jack applied both, and by teatime, his arrangements were made.
Everyone was gathered on the south lawn for tea and croquet, and though he was involved in a keen and competitive game of the latter with Nick, Belinda, and several members of the local gentry, he was also keeping an eye on the flagstone path beside the croquet green, for he expected to see a certain party come strolling by at any moment, and he had no intention of missing them.
His eyes, however, proved unnecessary in that regard, for his ears detected the arrival of little Colin and his nanny long before the pair came round the rhododendrons and into view, and the moment he heard Colin’s angry wails, Jack knew that he not only had forethought and effort going for him today, he also had luck. Very good luck indeed, he amended as he glanced at the tea table and saw that Linnet and Hansborough were sitting side by side, a little apart from the others.
Any other time, that fact might have been aggravating as hell. But not today. Today, it made him grin. This was going to be fun.
“Nanny Brown,” he called with what he hoped was a convincing amount of surprise, and as she brought the pram to a halt, he set down his mallet, ignoring the protests of the other players, who were waiting for him to take his shot.
“It’s time for a spot of tea, I think,” he explained. “Let’s stop for a bit. Besides, I want to see Colin.”
“I can’t think why,” Nick said wryly. “He’s having the devil of a tantrum, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“All the better for me, my friend,” he said, and laughed at his friend’s perplexed frown. “All the better for me.”
“You’re mad, Jack,” Nick declared, setting down his mallet. “Mad as Carroll’s Hatter.”
“And that surprises you?” Jack shook his head as he walked away. “All these years you’ve known me,” he added over his shoulder. “I should think by now you’d have stopped being surprised by the things I do.”
He turned his attention to the stout lady standing on the path. “Good afternoon, Nanny,” he greeted her, and peered into the pram. “Colin, my boy, whatever’s the matter?”
“He’s in a righteous fury at the moment, my lord,” she told him, raising her voice to be heard above the din.
“Yes, so I noticed.”
“I brought him along as
you asked, though I doubt you’ll be wanting to see him now.”
“Nonsense,” he replied, earning himself a look that said Nick wasn’t the only one who thought him off his onion. “I’ll have him anyway. Perhaps I can soothe him down.”
“You’ve a bee in your bonnet about babies today, my lord,” she said, laughing. “I’ve never seen the like. But if you’re sure, you’re welcome to him. Though you’ll have your hands full, with him in this state, let me tell you.”
“I don’t believe it,” Jack said, and lifted the baby out of the pram. “He’s just a bit cranky, that’s all.”
Colin did not seem pacified by being held. He wailed even louder.
“Now, now, young man, none of that,” he murmured. Pulling Colin up against his chest, he rested the baby’s bottom on his forearm and flattened his free hand against his back, just as Nanny had shown him this morning. “Let’s go see your mother and father and have some tea, shall we?” He looked up, meeting Nanny’s amused gaze over the baby’s dark head. “Any advice on what I could do to make him stop crying?”
“You might try a bit of shortbread. Not too much, or he’ll not have a proper feeding later.”
“Right.” Jack drew a breath, feeling a bit nervous now that he was about to be left on his own. “Anything else?”
“Distract him. Bright or noisy things sometimes work. Or you might try swinging him up high. Do you want me to follow along?”
“Not a bit. I’ll bring him up to the nursery in a short while, or her ladyship will do.”
“Very well, my lord. If you’re sure?”
When he nodded, she whirled the pram around, and, shaking her head in bemusement, she started back toward the house as he made his way to the tea table, and he could only hope Colin didn’t decide to stop crying before he got there.
His luck held, though, and by the time he approached the tea table, he could tell from one quick glance that Colin’s tantrum was grating on Hansborough’s nerves. This plan was succeeding beyond all his expectations.
“Hullo, everyone,” he said, pausing by the tea table, bobbing the baby on his arm gently up and down as he dipped at the knees and reached for a couple of shortbread biscuits.
Catch a Falling Heiress: An American Heiress in London Page 24