She glanced shrewdly at Charity as she spoke, then turned her attention to warming her hands at the fire.
She hadn’t failed to notice the slightly distracted look in Charity’s eyes and she was afraid that the interview with Lord Ashbourne must have gone badly.
“Successful?” Charity repeated distantly.
She was thinking of her quarrel with Jack—there was nothing to boast of in that. But then she cast her mind further back to the meeting with Lord Ashbourne, and it suddenly occurred to her that it had indeed been a successful morning.
Hazelhurst was hers again!
Before Mrs Riversleigh’s surprised eyes Charity suddenly seemed to lighten up. The dejected young woman of thirty seconds ago vanished, to be replaced by a glowing girl who could hardly prevent herself from dancing around the room in her excitement.
“Yes!” she cried, stretching out her arms in her delight. “I’ve got Hazelhurst back! I’ve got Hazelhurst back! I don’t know why, but until this moment I never really…I’m sorry.” She stopped in mid-sentence and looked at Mrs Riversleigh contritely. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
Mrs Riversleigh smiled. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m just pleased to see you so happy. You looked so sad last night that I was worried about you—I know Jack was too.”
“Jack?” Charity looked at Mrs Riversleigh quickly, almost doubtfully.
“Of course,” said Mrs Riversleigh calmly. “Now, tell me about Hazelhurst. Is that your home? How did it come about that you had to get it back?”
“My father used it to secure a debt,” said Charity, and without more ado she told Mrs Riversleigh the whole story.
“Good heavens!” Mrs Riversleigh exclaimed when Charity had finished. “What a terrible business. No wonder you looked so haunted last night. But you seem to have dealt with it all very well. Your mother must be proud of you.”
“She doesn’t know much about it,” Charity admitted. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. I’ll have to, of course, but I just couldn’t face…The last year has been very difficult for her,” she added quickly, in case it sounded as if she was criticising Mrs Mayfield.
“Yes, I remember how hard it was when my husband died,” said Mrs Riversleigh quietly. “I’m sure you must have been a great comfort to her. I know how much I relied on Jack in that first, difficult year. He was only thirteen, and of course my father was still alive then, but Jack still insisted on taking on many of my husband’s responsibilities.”
“You must be very proud of him,” said Charity softly.
It was clear to her that, whatever methods Jack might adopt when he was dealing with outsiders, he would never let down those he cared for. But then, hadn’t she always known that? Why else had she been able to accuse him of collusion with the Earl in one breath and in the next accept his escort to London?
Mrs Riversleigh smiled.
“Yes, I am,” she said. “But he hates it if he thinks I’ve been praising him to others, so perhaps I’d better not say any more. Tell me instead, what do you mean to do, now that you’ve got Hazelhurst back?”
“Do?” Charity blinked at her hostess.
Mrs Riversleigh’s brief comments about Jack had given her a great deal to think about, but it would be rude to appear distracted when her hostess had been so kind.
“I suppose I’ll put into practice all those plans I thought I’d have to abandon,” she said slowly. “We’ve increased our yield quite considerably over the last few years and I have hopes that, with…” she stopped, smiling. “I’m sure you’re not really interested in such things,” she said guiltily. “I know I can become quite boring on the subject if I have even half an opportunity.”
“I’m not bored,” said Mrs Riversleigh, encouraging Charity to continue. It was true that she wasn’t particularly interested in the best time to plant wheat in the Weald, but she was fascinated by Charity’s obvious knowledge and enthusiasm.
It wasn’t often that Charity was given such an opportunity to talk about something which was so close to her heart and, despite her preoccupation, she soon found herself describing some of the innovations she had introduced.
“Of course,” she said at one point, “things don’t always happen as I intend. Even Sam Burden has a tendency to prefer the old ways, and our other tenant, and many of the farm-workers, are completely resistant to change. But I usually get what I want in the end.”
“How?” asked Mrs Riversleigh curiously.
Charity laughed mischievously. “On at least one occasion by proposing an enormous change I didn’t want at all,” she said. “By the time Sam had managed to persuade me it wasn’t a good idea he was so grateful that he agreed to make the change I really wanted as a concession to sweeten my defeat on the larger issue.” She smiled reminiscently. “I suppose I should feel guilty about my underhand methods,” she continued, “but I know for a fact he’s done the same to me. It’s almost…” Her voice trailed off.
“Almost what?” Mrs Riversleigh prompted her.
Charity was sitting still, staring into space as if she’d been stunned.
“Almost a game,” she said distantly.
Jack wasn’t like Lord Ashbourne! Why hadn’t she seen it before? Of course he respected the Earl’s cunning—only a fool underestimated his enemy. Perhaps he even found pleasure in outwitting Lord Ashbourne, as she had enjoyed outmanoeuvring Sam Burden. But he had never approved of the Earl’s motives—or his methods.
For the first time she remembered the moment when Lord Ashbourne had asked whether the pendant had been worth all his trouble—and she could hear Jack’s reply just as clearly and unambiguously as if he were speaking to her at that very moment.
“No inanimate object is worth so much pain.”
She could even remember what the Earl had said next. “A predictable response.” He had known Jack better than she had. She had been so wrong.
The revelation was blinding in its force. She leapt to her feet, forgetful of Mrs Riversleigh’s presence in her urgency to speak to Jack.
She had to tell him that she did understand. She had to apologise for all her doubts, for her rudeness and her coldness—and she had to thank him for what he’d done for her.
She turned to the door, but she had taken no more than two steps towards it before it opened and a servant came in.
“His lordship’s compliments, miss,” he said respectfully to Charity. “And would you be kind enough to join him in the library?”
“Oh, yes!”
She picked up her skirts, almost as if she intended to run—and belatedly remembered Mrs Riversleigh.
“I’m sorry, do excuse me,” she said incoherently, and left the room so quickly that her hostess had no chance to reply.
“Thank you, James.” Mrs Riversleigh dismissed the footman and picked up her embroidery, smiling to herself.
* * *
“Jack!”
Charity burst through the library door, every bit as impetuously as she had once burst through the library door at Hazelhurst when she had thought it was Edward who was waiting for her.
And, just as she had on that occasion, she stopped short, uncertain of how to go on. Now she was in Jack’s presence she felt shy and unsure of herself. He looked so stern. How could she ever explain she had been wrong?
He had indeed been looking unusually serious when she had opened the door, but now, at the sight of her breathless arrival, his expression softened.
“You never know what’s going to be on the other side of the door, do you?” he said, and moved past her to close it.
She revolved slowly so that she could continue to look at him.
“I’m sorry I summoned you in such an arrogant manner,” he said without irony, “but I wanted to speak to you alone. I should not—”
“Jack!” she interrupted. I…” She glanced up at him and saw that he was looking down at her intently. He was making her feel nervous, but she was determined to tell him wh
at she had been thinking. “I came to thank you,” she said simply. “And to tell you I’m sorry for all the dreadful things I said. I know they weren’t true. You were right, I didn’t understand, and I wouldn’t let you explain. I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him quite frankly, making no attempt to excuse herself, though in her eyes he could see her longing that he accept her apology.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you’re still angry with me,” she said quietly when he didn’t immediately reply. “I accused you of some terrible things. I even demanded the pendant back as if I thought you were a thief! And you still helped me. I don’t deserve it, I know, but I am grateful for everything, you’ve done—and for giving Hazelhurst back to me.” She paused, but when he still didn’t say anything she added rather desperately, “Please say something!”
For one more long minute Jack didn’t reply, then he let out his breath in a long sigh and smiled crookedly at her.
“Do you always apologise so devastatingly?” he asked, and Charity could see the relief in his eyes.
“Oh, Jack,” she said. “I was so unkind; I wish—”
“You don’t have to apologise,” he interrupted, taking her in his arms. “And you don’t have to be grateful to me. I did what I thought was best, but you were right earlier—I didn’t consult you, and I didn’t explain.”
“But I should have trusted you,” Charity whispered. It would be a long time before she forgave herself for her doubts.
“I wonder,” he said slowly.
He was still holding her, his hands resting lightly on her waist, but for the moment he made no move to draw her any closer.
“Perhaps I don’t deserve your good opinion,” he said at last. “Charity, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, but I can’t offer myself to you under false pretences. Sooner or later you would know me for a fraud—and sooner or later I would hurt you. If you come to me it must be because you see me as I am—not as you would like me to be.”
She looked up at him seriously. She could feel the tension in his arms, and see it in his expression—and she knew that, whatever it was he wanted to say to her, he wasn’t finding it easy.
“What are you telling me, Jack?” she asked quietly.
“You made me angry when you accused me of liking—or even of admiring—the Earl,” he answered steadily. “You came too close to the truth, you see. I don’t like him—but I do like dealing with him. Owen and Sir Humphrey get their sport from chasing a fox through the fields; I get mine from pitting my wits against men like Ashbourne. I get less muddy, but in some ways I take more risks.”
He sighed, gazing down into her luminous brown eyes. She was too honest and too forthright, and he wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to understand him.
“I’m a devious man,” he said. “Perhaps even more devious than the Earl, though my aims are different. I’m not proud of myself, but I can’t change.”
Charity tipped her head on one side. From her expression it was hard to tell what she was thinking.
“Did you blackmail Lord Ashbourne into giving me Hazelhurst?” she asked curiously, but without any particular suggestion of condemnation in her voice.
Jack hesitated.
“Yes,” he said at last, rather reluctantly. He was afraid she would disapprove. “That is to say, I had information which I knew he would be very unwilling for me to repeat.”
“That’s not a proper explanation,” said Charity firmly. “What information?”
“You heard me tell him that Horwood and Kaye had finally found a third investor?” Jack asked, wondering what she was thinking. He had never expected that she would be able to hide her thoughts so well. “Well, that’s Ashbourne, although they don’t know it,” he continued, feeling very much as if he were on trial. “He’s using an agent as usual, and if Adam Kaye finds out before he signs the final agreements he’ll withdraw. He hates the Earl. But it should be a very profitable partnership—for all three men.”
“What about poor Mr Kaye?” Charity asked, continuing her interrogation. “Shouldn’t you warn him?”
“The Earl won’t cheat his partners—he’ll just taunt them for failing to discover his involvement. Besides, Kaye had just as much chance of finding out as I had—and I’m not responsible for protecting his interests,” said Jack.
He might also have pointed out that Adam Kaye was both bigoted and unpopular, but he really was trying to avoid giving Charity a false impression of his character.
She gazed up at him thoughtfully, and for a moment he was afraid of what she would say—but then, at last, he saw the growing twinkle in her eyes.
“One day I must tell you how I persuaded Sir Humphrey to sell my father the five-acre field,” she said reflectively. “I still don’t think Sir Humphrey knows I had anything to do with it.”
She began to laugh at his startled expression and looped her arms around his neck.
“We have more in common than you think,” she murmured, stretching up to kiss him lightly on the chin.
For a moment longer he continued to stare down at her; then his expression relaxed.
“You little devil!” he exclaimed. “You…” Words failed him, and he silenced her laughter with his kiss.
There had been so much doubt and so much misunderstanding that it was bliss for Charity to feel his arms around her again, and to taste his lips on hers. He was holding her to him fiercely, possessively, as if he never intended to release her again, and she surrendered joyously to his embrace.
“You’re quite shameless!” he murmured, brushing his lips against her hair. “There I was, laying my soul bare to you, fearing at any second your disapproval or rejection—and all the time you were laughing at me!”
“I wasn’t!” She lifted her head indignantly. “But I thought I’d better find out everything I wanted to know before I told you how I felt. I might not have remembered to ask later.”
Her indignation dissolved into a wickedly tantalising smile, and she ran her finger lightly along the line of his jaw.
“No, I don’t think that’s exactly what you thought,” he replied, an answering gleam of humour in his grey eyes. “Are you sure you weren’t getting your own back for my arrogance earlier?”
She shook her head, setting her dark curls dancing.
“No,” she said quietly. “I finally understood how you must feel about Lord Ashbourne just before I came to see you. That’s what I was so anxious to tell you—that I did understand how it was possible for you to respect him. But when you started to explain…my good opinion seemed to mean so much to you—and that meant so much to me.”
Jack gazed down at her, wonder and love in his eyes.
“Charity…” he began, but there were no words to describe what he was feeling. “I love you,” he said simply.
Her hands were resting on his shoulders, and he took one in his own hand, kissing it almost reverently, then turned it over, kissing her palm, and the deep lace ruffles of her sleeve fell back to above the elbow. His lips followed, caressing the soft skin of her inner arm, tantalising, soothing and exciting her.
She sighed and leant against him, weak with desire and pleasure as she felt him kiss her throat. Then he bent lower, his lips teasing and exciting her as he pushed down the lace of her bodice and kissed the hollow between her breasts.
She caught her breath and clung to him, longing to feel him even closer.
Jack lifted his head and looked down at her; with one arm he was supporting her, with the other hand he started to stroke the nape of her neck. A ripple of pure delight coursed through her and she leant back against his arm, her dark eyes languid with love and desire.
“Did you speak to Owen?” he asked quietly.
“Mmm? Oh, yes,” she said, only half listening, and admiring the straight line of his nose.
“What did he say?”
“Who?”
“Owen!” Jack began to laugh softly, his customary good humour completely restor
ed. “Do concentrate, Charity! I’m about to propose to you. Mind you,” he added thoughtfully as he saw that she was still not giving his words her full attention, “you do seem to make a habit of letting your thoughts wander at crucial moments like this. In the circumstances, perhaps it would be better if…”
Instead of completing what he was saying he suddenly swept her up in his arms and glanced quickly round the room.
“Jack!” she exclaimed. “What on earth…?”
“I’m not having you wriggle out of this betrothal on the grounds that you didn’t understand what I was asking until it was too late!” he declared, and carried her over to a chair.
“There, sit here, and pay careful attention to what I’m about to say to you,” he said firmly, stepping back and looking down at her. “And while you’re about it you can confirm that you really have told Owen you’re not going to marry him.”
“Of course I have.” She folded her arms demurely in her lap and laughed up at him.
“Good. Now, then, Miss Mayfield—” he began briskly, only the faintest twitch of his lips indicating his own amusement.
“You mean you’re not going to get down on your knees?” she interrupted in a disappointed voice.
Jack paused and appeared to think about it. “One knee, if you insist,” he said at last. “Both knees—definitely not. Most undignified.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon. It was a slip of the tongue. Of course I only meant one knee,” she replied graciously.
Jack grinned. “In that case…” he began, but before he could continue the door opened and a servant came in.
“A letter for the lady, my lord,” said James discreetly. “No reply is expected.”
“Thank you,” said Jack calmly. “Leave it on the table, please.”
He waited until the footman had turned to go, and then he raised his eyebrow at Charity, who had suddenly been overcome with amusement.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped as the door closed behind James, “but I was just imagining…”
“I dare say,” said Jack austerely, going to pick up the letter, “but such merriment—” He broke off abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he read the direction on the outside.
Ten Guineas on Love Page 26