He took the blue delft bowl and the stained towel to the bathroom and poured the used water down the sink drain, then he scooped soap out of the jar, added fresh water to the sink, and scrubbed the soiled towel until every trace of Linnet’s blood was gone. He draped the wet towel over the bar on the side of the washstand and returned with the basin to his own room, where he put it back on his own washstand. He nestled the matching pitcher inside it, returned his shaving equipment to his dressing case, and walked to the side of the bed.
Perhaps she was just tired, he thought as he unbuttoned his trousers. Tired and overwrought. Any girl would be, he supposed. One’s first sexual experience was always quite shattering.
Almost, but not quite satisfied by that explanation, Jack stripped off his trousers and tossed them aside. He started to reach for the counterpane to pull it back, then his gaze caught on the writing desk nearby and the slip of paper that lay unfolded on top of it. Holland’s telegram.
He swore.
I was just another business deal.
He rubbed his hands over his face and swore again.
JACK DIDN’T SLEEP a wink. He spent the remainder of the night in bed, but as he’d been wont to do many nights of late, he didn’t sleep. Instead, he pictured Linnet stretched out naked beside him, with her golden hair loose and tumbled across his pillows. The agony of it was harder to bear this time than it had ever been before, for it wasn’t a picture borne of his imagination now; it was a picture formed from reality.
Hot, sweet thoughts of touching her beautiful skin, of hearing her passionate cries, of her face as he’d brought her to the first climax of her life—these were memories that haunted him, and tortured him, and made him more certain than ever about his chosen course.
Winning Linnet had never been a choice, not from the moment he’d kissed her. Now, however, he began to fear that his certainty and his determination might not be enough. He didn’t have her trust, and now, he didn’t know if he’d ever have it.
There was just one option open to him. His original intention had been to wait until they were engaged before telling her about the deal with her father. In hindsight, of course, he appreciated that sort of reticence had been a serious mistake on his part, but there was nothing he could do about that now. And it was no longer an option. The thing to do was discuss the deal with her openly and completely, and hope he could find the words to keep her.
Such a discussion, however, could only take place if she were in the same room with him, and that, he soon discovered, wasn’t going to be an easy thing to arrange. She didn’t come down for breakfast or lunch, but instead stayed in her room, pleading a headache, and short of breaking down her bedroom door, an act that would put him forever beyond the pale in Belinda’s estimation and probably Linnet’s as well, there were very few options open to him. In a hasty consult with her mother after luncheon, he confirmed that he and Linnet had quarreled, and she confirmed that Linnet did intend to come down for dinner, and he seized on that as his only possibility. If Helen could somehow persuade her to a walk in the gardens half an hour before the dinner gong—perhaps with a suggestion that it would help her headache—and if Helen would then allow him a private consultation with her, he intended to ask her again to marry him. He felt sure, he told Helen with a confidence he didn’t feel in the least, that they would mend their quarrel, and he would at last obtain her consent to marry him.
It was with that assurance that Helen agreed to allow him the privacy with her that he needed.
Stuart and his duchess arrived on the afternoon train, and Jack took his friend aside the moment he arrived, for even though Holland wasn’t due in Kent for a week, he wanted to make the final preparations for their meeting with the American now, before he talked to Linnet in the garden.
Stuart, as he’d had no doubt his friend would do, agreed to all his plans for the venture and promised to have the appropriate documents drawn up by his attorneys. He also had several promising investment possibilities to present to Holland. Jack grinned at that. “Baiting the hook well, I hope?”
Stuart grinned back. “Damned straight. He’ll bite, trust me.”
At half past six, when the others were gathering for aperitifs in the drawing room, Jack went to the gardens, and found that Helen had done her part, for she and Linnet were walking the herbaceous border.
He waited until they had wandered into the rose garden to find some late roses before approaching them. Helen, who had been watching for his approach, saw him coming and managed to lead Linnet through an arbor and into a part of the garden where she had very few ways to escape. He paused beneath the arbor behind her.
“Out and about at last, I see,” he said. When she whirled around, her eyes seemed so vividly blue in the twilight that he caught his breath, but the appalled expression on her face was a painful indication of just how much persuasion he’d have to do in the next half hour. He took a deep breath. “Headache gone, I hope?”
“It just came back.” She tried to come through the arbor so that she could escape, but he moved forward, blocking her path.
“We have to talk, and you’re not going anywhere until we do,” he told her. “Helen?” he added to the woman behind her without taking his eyes from hers, “I fear Linnet still has a headache. Would you be so kind as to find a housemaid to fetch her a Beecham’s Powder? She and I will follow you shortly to the house.”
“Of course.” She moved at once toward the only other path of escape, and Linnet gave a huff of vexation as she turned her head and watched her go.
“Traitor,” she called after her parent. “This is conspiring with the enemy.”
Helen didn’t reply but waved a hand in dismissal of that accusation as she walked away.
Linnet’s gaze returned to him. “I can think of nothing you and I need to discuss,” she said, and since he was blocking the arbor where she stood, she turned to follow her parent down the only other available path.
He fell in step beside her. “We have plenty to discuss. That telegram, for one thing. What it means, and everything it represents, and every doubt and every fear it planted in your head.”
Her steps did not slow. “What telegram? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar. I know you read it, so don’t pretend you didn’t.”
That stopped her in her tracks, bringing him to a halt as well. “Oh, so pretending is wrong, is it?” she asked, turning to face him, and the glint of battle in her eyes told him the fight was on. “You seem to have quite a hypocritical set of ethics. Pretending seems a perfectly acceptable thing when you do it. Lying, too,” she added before he could respond. “And fortune-hunting . . . well, we know you think that’s wrong when other people do it—your brother, for instance—but when you do it, it’s just dandy. And then, there’s betrayal . . .” She stopped, swallowed hard, and resumed walking away, as quickly as she could in her evening gown of shimmering green silk.
He followed her, his long strides enabling him to be beside her in just a few seconds. “I didn’t betray you. I didn’t lie. I admit I did withhold certain facts from you—”
“You didn’t lie? So, that afternoon in the woods when you declared you’d give up the dowry, that was the truth?”
Had he said that? He frowned, vaguely remembering something desperate like that coming out of his mouth. “Damn.”
She stopped, causing him to stop as well. “Yes,” she said. “Damn. Shall we go on to the part about pretending?”
“Let’s discuss the lie first, shall we? I said I’d give up the dowry, yes. And yes, that was a lie. I have no intention of giving it up.” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he thought of that afternoon, knowing there was nothing to do but admit it. He looked into her eyes. “I have no excuses or explanations to offer. All I have is my reason for lying.”
That, understandably, made her laugh. “What makes you think I care two bits for your reason?”
He ignored that question. “Your father
offered me half a million dollars as a personal settlement if I married you. He wants to do investments in Africa and use my connection to the Duke of Margrave to make money there. That’s the venture the telegram is talking about.”
Her lips parted in astonishment. Her face went pale. “Did you do what you did in the pagoda at his behest?”
“No, no,” he hastened to assure her. “No, this was afterward. You were already on your way to England. But he decided I’d be a better bet than the other chaps you had in mind because of Margrave. But he also felt that you wouldn’t marry me if I accepted a settlement, so when he made his offer, he suggested we keep it a secret from you until after we were married. His idea was that you’d never marry me if I took a personal settlement, so I was supposed to make the noble gesture and assure you I didn’t want anything for myself. As you know, I didn’t do that.”
“Until that afternoon in the woods.”
“Yes. You see . . .” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I was, as you may appreciate, in the throes of almost uncontainable lust. Not that’s any sort of excuse, mind you, but because I was in that rather vulnerable condition, I was trying to avoid you that afternoon. I was trying to keep a proper gentleman’s distance, and it was killing me. I wanted you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone in my life, and when you were standing there in front of me, I succumbed to your father’s idea and pretended to make the grand gesture.”
“Knowing all the while you had no intention of giving up the money.”
“Yes.” He swallowed hard. “I very much fear I’d have said anything, done anything, crawled on my knees to Lucifer in that moment, in order to make you mine.”
She pressed her lips together and looked away. “But it was still a lie, Jack. How can I marry a man who lies to me? Who betrays me? Who makes deals behind my back? No.”
She started to walk around him, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her way. When she stepped the other way, he blocked that, too, and she stilled, scowling up at him. “Honestly, what part of ‘no’ continues to elude you? It’s a simple word, really, one most people comprehend without much difficulty.”
“I’m extraordinarily obtuse about that word, at least when it comes to you. But Linnet, I’m going to make you listen to me, even if I have to chase you all over the grounds to do it. Because I love you.”
“More words. More explanations. But as you demonstrated so eloquently the other day, deeds are much more effective.”
He ignored that. “I also think you still love me.”
He got the look, narrowed eyes and uplifted chin. “So when deeds and explanations fail to impress, words of love are the next tactic? My answer is still no.”
He was getting desperate. Continuing to refuse to marry him was simply not an option now, and he didn’t think she quite understood that.
“It’s not a matter of persuasion at this point. It’s a matter of necessity. Linnet—” He broke off, grabbing her shoulders as she started to step around him again. He leaned closer, casting a quick glance around the garden to make doubly sure Helen had gone, and they were completely alone. “You might be carrying my child.”
She went still, dawning awareness and horror in her face. “Oh, God,” she whispered, her voice faint. “Oh, dear God.”
He watched her shake her head as if in denial, and he added, “What happened last night makes babies.” He winced at how late in the day it was to point that out. “You don’t go and find them under cabbage leaves.”
She scowled and jerked out of his hold. “I know that! My married friends explained all that business to me ages ago. But last night, I didn’t think it mattered. I thought . . .” Her voice faltered, fear sprang up in her eyes. “I was sure we were getting married.”
“So we are.”
She shook her head again, and he watched her take a step back. “Why should I marry you?” she cried. “How can I, when I still can’t trust you? You knew my father plotted behind my back for me to marry Davis MacKay as a business deal. You knew how that hurt me, how betrayed I felt, and yet you . . .” She stopped, her face twisting with pain. “You were prepared to do the exact same thing.”
“When I agreed to your father’s proposition, I didn’t know about the business deal with MacKay. I only found out about that when you told me.”
If he thought that was going to cut any ice with Linnet, he was mistaken. “And when I told you what he’d done, about how he plotted and worked on me all those months, and how much it hurt me to find out it was so he could marry me off to Davis MacKay and make a profit from it, I don’t suppose you could have mentioned your own little deal with him then?”
Guilt nudged him. “I could have done,” he admitted. “But I thought it better to wait.”
“Wait?” she echoed in disbelief. “Wait for what? Until you’d done what Daddy suggested, and we were safely hitched?”
He could see her expression hardening even more, and he shook his head in violent denial. “No, I told your father I was going to wait just until we were engaged. That way, when you did find out—”
“I’d be sufficiently softened up. After you sweet-talked me with blueberry muffins, and talk of truces and friendship. After you’d aroused me with your kisses and seduced me with your torrid words. After I fell straight into your arms and gave you my heart and came to your bed like a naïve little fool. Yes, after all that, you were going to tell me. Well, you waited too long.”
“Before we leave the subject of last night, can I at least remind you that you came to me? I didn’t come to you. I tried to say at the time it would be a mistake—”
“The worst mistake I’ve ever made. And one I can assure you I don’t intend to make again.” She ducked around him and kept on walking as if the matter were settled, but it wasn’t settled, not by a long way, for as he’d already told her, he’d chase her around the entire garden until she stopped running and listened.
“Either way, it’s done, Linnet,” he reminded her, striding along beside her as she exited the rose garden and turned down a path lined with tall boxwoods that led to the cherub grotto. “As I said last night, it can’t be undone.”
“And yet, after I agreed to marry you last night, you still had every opportunity to mention the scheme you and my father had cooked up. Yet, even then, you didn’t breathe a word.”
Guilt nudged him again, harder this time. “I intended to tell you right then. I did,” he insisted at her sound of disbelief. “I started to, but then, you started kissing me . . . and I knew you were naked under that nightdress, and my wits started slipping . . . and I just . . .” He sighed and raked his hands through his hair. “I forgot.”
“You forgot?” She stopped on the path, so abruptly he’d gone two strides past her before stopping also. “What you mean,” she choked, glaring at him as he turned to face her, “is that you knew if you told me about the deal at that point, I wouldn’t bed you.”
He grimaced at this more brutal, and perhaps more accurate, version of what had been going on in his head last night.
“After all,” she went on, “if you waited until after you’d bedded me to tell me the truth, it would be so much better, wouldn’t it? Just a little insurance, you know, in case I kicked up a fuss.”
“Wait.” He stepped in front of her as she moved around him. “You think I didn’t tell you last night as a calculated move? You think I wanted to be able to force your hand if you changed your mind about marrying me once you learned what your father and I were doing? That I would use the possibility of a baby as leverage?”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?” She looked up, tears in her eyes. They glinted like steel blades, driving into his heart. “As you said not five minutes ago, if there’s a baby, I’ll have to marry you or I’ll be ruined beyond amendment. If that’s not forcing my hand, what is?”
Her face puckered, she ducked around him and kept walking.
He was shocked that she could think so little of him, and for
a moment, he stood there, fixed to the spot like a sundial. By the time he turned, she had reached the grotto. He followed, his long strides catching up to her as she reached the fountain.
“That is not why I didn’t tell you.” At the end of his tether, he caught her from behind, wrapping both his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest, holding tight as she struggled to free herself. “That is not why. Good God, Linnet,” he murmured against her hair, “what sort of man do you think I am?”
“That’s just it,” she cried. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “You do know if you would just listen to yourself.”
She froze in his hold. “Let go of me.”
He hesitated, knowing she would flee the second he released her. “Give me your word you won’t run until I’ve had my say, and I’ll let go.”
She writhed in his hold. “I don’t want to hear any more of what you have to say.”
“Very well, then,” he said, holding her fast, “I’ll just stand here while you exhaust yourself.”
“Using brute force, as usual, I see.” She struggled in vain for a bit longer, then stopped, panting. “All right, all right. I give you my word, I won’t run.”
Linnet might be strong-willed, stubborn, and angry as hell with him right now, but she’d given her word, and he chose to accept it. Trust had to work both ways. Besides, he could outrun her any day of the week. He released her.
She turned, facing him. “You ask what sort of man I think you are. My question is: How can I know, given the secrets you keep? You won’t explain the true reason you interfered in my life in the first place and why you did what you did to ruin Van Hausen—”
“And as I already told you, I cannot explain my reasons for that. I am honor-bound to keep silent.”
“You said we’re friends. Do friends keep secrets?”
“Sometimes, yes, they do. If you told me a secret, I would take it to my grave. I would never tell anyone.”
Catch a Falling Heiress: An American Heiress in London Page 29