Almost Yours (Ladies of Scandal Book 3)

by Hilly Mason

  “They’re not going to care what ye look like,” Isla reassured him. “I’ve come to Widley House bleedin’ from the nose and lip and they don’t even bat an eye. But if ye do wanna be fussy about it…” she reached up and patted his wayward hair down with her soft hands. As she straightened his cravat, his breath caught in his throat. “There, you look halfway a gentleman now.” She grinned, revealing slightly crooked—yet adorable—teeth.

  After the butler greeted them at the front door, Isla led him through an ornate entrance hall to a room over to the right wing of the house. The dining room was even bigger than the hallway, lit up with the large windows overlooking London’s Mayfair district. A giant, crystal chandelier illuminated the long dinner table. A man and woman of early middle years rose to greet them as they entered the room. The woman, elegantly dressed with head full of golden curls, introduced herself as Lady Sophia St. George, and the man, an elegant dark haired gentleman graying at the temples was her husband, Lord Alexander St. George.

  How is it that some people just look rich, Jack wondered as he smiled and nodded to Lord St. George, and then brushed his lips across Lady St. George’s proffered hand.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Craig. Please, sit.” Lord St. George gestured to the dinner table.

  A footman pulled his chair from behind him and he sat down, unfolding his napkin. Isla sat across from him and gave him a knowing smile.

  I’m a bloody lord, he thought. It should be ingrained into me to feel comfortable at dinner parties. He shifted his attention to the older St. Georges and managed to remember to compliment them on their fine house. This seemed to please everyone at the table. As the servants served them their dinner Sophia began to speak.

  “So, you plan to accompany Isla to Philadelphia to meet her parents,” she said as she speared a roasted potato with her fork. “Forgive me if I am a bit skeptical about it all.”

  “Sophia!” Isla hissed, but Sophia raised a diplomatic hand.

  “I’m not saying I’m against it, I’m just saying that I’m skeptical.”

  “For good reason,” Jack fished out some papers from his breast pocket and handed them over to the older couple. “Here are the documents stating Mr. and Mrs. Murray’s intention to relocate some of the animals at the Tower Menagerie to their land in Philadelphia. My name is signed at the bottom as an overseer to the affairs.”

  “Lord Craig,” Lord St. George said, rubbing his chin as he looked through the papers. “Don’t you own some land up in Berkshire?”

  “Yes,” Jack replied somewhat warily.

  “Then what have you been doing living in America?”

  “I’ve gotten a bit of wanderlust, Lord St. George,” Jack replied truthfully. “And I wanted to try my hand at the fur trade.”

  Lord St. George rested the papers on the table and leaned back into his chair. “I hear that the trade is dying out.”

  “It is, unfortunately. That’s why I’ve been doing other work for the Murrays. They seem to be heavily invested in entertainment now.”

  “And Isla’s parents have room and board for her at their estate?” Lady St. George asked him.

  “Yes. She can continue doing prizefights, if she chooses to. There will be opportunities for her to perform there.”

  “And that’s something you would be interested in, Isla?”

  “I’m more interested in the adventure than the fights,” Isla admitted. “But, aye, it’s what I wanna do.”

  The married couple glanced at each other, engaged in some sort of silent communication. Jack wondered what it would be like to be so close to a person that you only need to look at them to understand what they were thinking.

  “Well, now that we ken that Lord Craig isn’t some lunatic, can we enjoy our meals?” Isla asked.

  They were suddenly interrupted by an attractive young woman who burst through the door and flounced over to the table to sit down. She had her dark hair pulled back into a fashionable coif and she was wearing dress the color of a robin’s egg with a ridiculous amount of puffiness to the sleeves. “Sorry I am late!” she declared as she picked up her napkin and spread it on her lap she finally noticed Jack.

  “Isla, you never told me you were courting someone!”

  Isla’s face reddened considerably. “I’m not courting anyone, Annie,” she said to the younger woman.

  “Oh, well,” the woman named Annie fluttered her lashes coquettishly at Jack. “I’m still looking for a husband. And I’m not an old spinster like someone I know.”

  “Annie,” Lady Sophia admonished, looking at her husband for assistance.

  Lord St. George looked resigned, but he smartly took his wife’s side. “Annie, apologize to Isla at once.”

  “I’m sorry,” Annie said, but she sounded anything but. Her lips were still upturned in a flirtatious smile, although Jack avoided the directed look.

  “You’re turning more and more like your aunt by the day,” Lady St. George told her. “Do you want to end up pregnant out of wedlock?”

  Annie colored. “No,” she muttered.

  Surprised by the directedness of the conversation, Jack turned to Lord St. George. He was already looking at him, a half-smile on his face.

  “Would you like a smoke?” he asked shrewdly.

  Jack nodded, thankful for the chance to escape.

  In the safety of Lord St. George’s study, his host withdrew a box of cheroots and offered one to Jack before lighting his own. Lord St. George puffed on his meditatively for a few minutes before finally speaking.

  “Lord Craig, Isla may not be related to me by blood, but she is part of the St. Georges’ family nonetheless, and it is my duty to make sure she journeys to America safely. I have hired a few men who will join her on the voyage.”

  “I am a bodyguard by trade, Lord St. George. She will be well protected with me.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Lord St. George said. “You seem strong and capable. Nonetheless, we’ve only just met. And the men I’ve hired have served me for years.”

  “Very well.” He wasn’t going to argue with the man. At any rate, having more eyes on Isla while they crossed the Atlantic would assure that he can get her safely to the Murrays.

  Before leaving Widley House a little while later, Isla pulled him aside.

  “The ship leaves on Friday, aye?” she asked him.

  Did he detect a bit of hesitation in her voice? If she had any doubt, her face did not reveal it. Her eyes were set with determination and excitement.

  “Friday,” he agreed. “Meet me at the Toad and Fox at six that morning. We’ll leave accordingly.” He did not know what else to say. Suddenly he saw the little girl from fifteen years ago and remembered the time they spent together, fishing in the nearby river in the summer that they met, dirtying their clothes and making their headmistress furious. He never had felt more carefree in his life than when he was with her. She was his friend, and he let her down.

  It was wrong to keep his identity from her. She needed to know.

  Jack opened his mouth to speak.

  “Our carriage can take ye back to your room at the Toad and Fox,” Isla said before he got a word out. “I’ll see ye next week.”

  Swiftly, the words he was going to say to her were gone. He turned around and left.

  Chapter Five

  Isla rummaged through her tiny room at the Camden Hotel, almost in tears.

  “Where is it, where is it?” she moaned as she tore the sheets off her bed and emptied her wardrobe of all its contents.

  A pounding on the door made her practically jump out of her skin. She dropped her clothes on her bed and took a deep breath.

  “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Jackson Craig.”

  Isla cursed under her breath and glanced at the old grandfather clock. “Is it time to leave already?” she called out, although it was half past six already.

  “You were supposed to be at the tavern by now.”

  “I have something
important to take care of!”

  Not wanting to yell and risk waking up her neighbors, she pushed through the maze of her belongings over to the door and pushed it open.

  Lord Craig’s eyebrows shot up with surprise.

  “Why are ye looking so shocked?” she asked him.

  “You’re allowing me to come in?”

  “Do ye really think I have a reputation to keep?” she asked dryly. “Besides, I let Patrick in here all the time.”

  “Who’s Patrick?”

  Isla frowned. She hadn’t meant to bring up his name. “It doesna matter.”

  Craig took a hesitant step into the chaos and looked around. “You’ve packed, right?”

  She glanced at her rucksack lying on her bed. “More or less,” she shrugged and then remembered why her room looked like a storm had hit. “I just need to find one last thing.”

  “Is it important? We need to be going.”

  “I can’t leave without it.”

  Craig frowned at her. She must look insane with her hair in a wild, tangled mess, and dressed only in her undershirt and drawers. She hadn’t a chance to don her traveling clothes.

  “Do you need help?”

  “No!” Isla said more loudly than she intended. The man took a step back towards the still-open door and looked at her warily. “No,” she repeated a bit milder this time. “It’s around here somewhere.”

  Or was it? She had worn the pearl necklace at dinner with the St. Georges last night. But she hadn’t remembered taking it off. A sick feeling formed at the pit of her belly. What if it had fallen off between the walk from Widley House back to her apartment?

  “Isla,” Craig said softly. She blinked up at him through her suddenly wet eyes. “We gotta go. Now.”

  Mortified by the tears running down her cheeks, Isla quickly brushed them away. She then latched her rucksack shut and swung it over one shoulder. “Fine, I’m ready.”

  “You sure?”

  “Would I say I was if I weren’t?” She knew she was taking her heartbreak out on this man, and she didn’t like herself for it.

  “You’re not dressed.”

  She looked down at her clothing, or lack thereof, and grimaced. “Ballocks,” she said under her breath and dug through her pile of clothes for a clean pair of trousers. Not finding any, she relented with a pale blue linen dress, forgoing any stays.

  She tried to button up the dress on her own, but it was proving to be impossible. “Can ye help me out?” she finally asked Lord Craig, who was standing at the door, looking helpless. She turned around and waited for him to come behind her. He was surprisingly gentle as he buttoned the dress up to below her neck. Once he reached the top, his fingers accidently brushed against her skin and she shivered involuntarily. She realized she had forgotten to breath and drew a quick intake of air, smelling his masculinity—the faint manly scent of sweat, and the tallow candles and foodstuff from the Toad and Fox.

  Suddenly feeling terrible about her tardiness, she turned back to him to apologize to him but he was already on his way out of the door, carrying his own bag over one large shoulder. She quickly followed after him.

  “So what’s it like being a bodyguard in America?” she asked him as they neared the Port of London. Until then they had been walking wordlessly down the street, and she struggled to keep up with him, even with her long legs.

  He gave a non-committal shrug. “There’s a lot of standing around, waiting for things to happen. But when they do happen you gotta be ready to handle it.”

  “Oh, aye? What was the most exciting thing to have happened to ye, Lord Craig?”

  “You can call me Jack.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t think it’s right for a lady to hear.”

  Isla snorted. “I think ye and I both ken that I’m not like most ladies.”

  Lord Craig—Jack—gave a half-shrug of one of his massive shoulders. “Killed someone,” he said quietly.

  Isla’s mouth dropped open. “Ye killed someone? Why? How? Tell me the details!”

  He glanced at her again. “It’s not something I like talking about,” he told her.

  With a man like Jack, Isla imagined it wouldn’t take much for him to break someone’s neck. He was strong enough, and his hands were definitely large enough.

  Yet they are also surprisingly gentle, she thought remembering how he had carefully buttoned up her dress for her back at the Camden Hotel.

  “I was just doing my job, is all,” he went on. She noticed that his face had become very pale under his tawny skin.

  Isla shivered slightly as she matched his pace. The sun was peeking through the horizon, and she could smell the Port of London although it was still blocks away.

  “Lord St. George’s men are meeting us at the ship, I assume?” Jack asked, in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

  “Och, them?” Isla replied. “They’re not coming.”

  Jack turned to her sharply. “What?”

  Isla waved her hand dismissively. “I managed to convince them that the ship is sailing tomorrow, not today.” She shook her head. “I tried to tell Alex that I didn’t need that many people looking after me… ”

  However confident in her ability to fend for herself, it made her feel pleased that her alleged parents had sent over their bodyguard to make sure she had a safe journey to America. Maybe it meant that they really cared for her, that she was worth protecting.

  It was a dangerous thought to entertain and she could be setting herself up for disappointment, but Isla needed something to look forward to during the long days ahead at sea with a man she hardly knew.

  “This is our ship?” she asked incredulously as she looked at the tiny thing. “Will it even fit the animals?”

  “It’s bigger than it appears,” Jack reassured her. He nodded his head, indicating Isla to turn around. As she did she saw about five people pushing a rolling cart housing the lion from the Tower of London Menagerie.

  “Golden!” she cried and ran over to her. The large cat nuzzled her hand as Isla stuck her hand through the iron bars.

  “I wouldna do that if I were you, miss,” one of the workers said.

  “It’s all right. She kens me well,” she told him. “You’re going to a better home,” she then said to the lion. “With a large field to wander in, I hope.”

  She watched with trepidation as the men led the beastie into the cargo area of the packet ship. How would Golden fare in such cramped conditions? It was decidedly worse that the Tower Menagerie.

  She frowned as Jack walked up beside her. “She’ll be all right,” he reassured her.

  “I sure hope so.”

  After Golden left her sight, she followed Jack up the planks separating the docks from the boat. A sailor was standing by the end of the plank holding a stack of papers.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Jackson Craig,” Jack told the man, handing him their tickets

  “What?” Isla began, but Jack took his arm and wrapped it around Isla’s shoulder, hugging her close to his body. She was startled by the hardness of his body, and the firm grip he had on her.

  “You’re being inappropriate,” she hissed at him.

  “Hush,” Jack said under his breath.

  “Here you are,” the sailor said, checking their names off with his quill. “Curious, what are you two heading over to America for?”

  “Her family lives there,” Jack explained before Isla could get a word in. “We’re moving in with them.”

  “Very well,” the man sounded bored, but Isla noted the way he was staring at her for longer than was polite. “You’re cabin is four doors down to the right. Here is your key.”

  As they walked away from the sailor, Isla nudged Jack hard in the ribs.

  “Married, aye?”

  He looked at her sheepishly. “It’s for your safety. Lord St. George and I agreed to it.”

  Isla growled. She should have known Alex would do something like that.

  “Then why the hell did he
not run this by me?”

  “Because you would refuse, of course,” Jack said.

  “Ye damn right I would! And I thought he was overdoing it with the guards. Damn you, Alex! I can take care of myself!”

  “You haven’t seen the worst of men, then.” Jack said sullenly.

  “And ye have?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “I have.”

  A cool breeze brushed past Isla and she shivered. “Well, let’s find our cabin, shall we?”

  But her temper flared anew when she realized what their living accommodations actually meant.

  “Ye can’t be serious!” she just about shouted as she opened the door to their cabin. “We’re not gonna be sleeping in just one room like… like we’re actually married!”

  “I thought you didn’t have a reputation to protect.” The nerve of the man, Jack was grinning!

  “I thought ye had no sense of humor,” Isla remarked dryly as she set her belongings down. Her heart was beating strangely. Although people assumed she was a wanton, she was actually a virgin and had never been in such close proximity with a man, not even with Patrick. Patrick always went on about how he wanted to wait until marriage. It drove her absolutely mad!

  “The St. Georges probably wouldn’t approve of this,” she tried again.

  “I believe they would agree that this is the safest way for an unmarried lady to travel across the Atlantic.”

  “Very well, we’ll manage, I suppose. At least we have two separate beds, aye?” She looked around and her heart sunk. “Please, don’t tell me we only have one bed...”

  Jack scratched the back of his head and said nothing as Isla peered in. Indeed the cabin only contained one bed, large enough for two, of course.

  “I can sleep on the floor.” Jack offered chivalrously.

  “Yes, you will,” Isla said. “Lord, it’s gonna be a long few weeks, isn’t it?”