“Both.” He glanced at his daughter. “Your mother had made what I had considered to be the sort of mistake that could ruin a life. She was entirely too young and rather foolish.”
Mother’s jaw tightened. “Thank you, Father.”
“You’ve grown out of it,” Grandfather said coolly and turned to Jack. “As for not telling you, I wouldn’t say that was a deliberate decision. More of an, oh . . .” Grandfather’s brow furrowed in thought. “An evolution, if you will. As the years went on, it really didn’t seem necessary. You were perfectly content without a father.” Grandfather paused. “It might not have been right in the strictly moral sense of the word but I think it turned out quite well. Given the same circumstances I would probably do it again. And I have no intention of defending decisions made decades ago.”
Jack stared. “You have no regrets about denying me the chance to know my father all these years? About allowing me to believe he was dead?”
“Regrets are pointless, Jackson. One never knows how the end result of one’s actions will play out. One does what one believes to be the proper course of action at the time and then moves on. Do I now think that it might have been a mistake?” Grandfather shrugged. “Possibly. But, as I said, I would probably do it again.”
Jack struggled to keep his temper in check. He could not remember ever having to do so before, at least not with his family. Indeed, he considered himself every bit as even-tempered as he was rational. But then there was nothing the least bit rational about this evening.
“At least you are willing to admit that you were wrong.” Anger sharpened Jack’s voice.
“I admitted no such thing,” Grandfather said. “I simply allowed for the possibility that I might have made an error in judgment. One’s decisions are always easier to evaluate in hindsight. However, one’s perspective on life does change as one grows older.” He paused for a moment, then drew a deep breath. “I suspect I would be most irate to discover after thirty years that I had a son, or a father for that matter.”
Jack stared at the elderly man. “Did you ever intend to tell me?”
Grandfather met his gaze firmly. “I don’t know.”
Again a knock sounded at the door and it opened without pause. Uncle Daniel popped his head in the door. “I hate to interrupt whatever is going on here but the rest of us are wondering if we’ve been abandoned. If there was some sort of crisis or worse.”
“Definitely worse,” Lucy murmured.
Daniel stepped into the library and surveyed the gathering. “From the looks on your faces, I’d say a crisis was fairly accurate.”
Daniel Lockwood’s father had become a partner in the banking and trust some forty years ago. Jack had called him Uncle Daniel for as long as he could remember and he was as much a part of the family as if he was a blood relation. In many ways, Daniel had taken the place of Jack’s father for both Jack and his mother. He had long been Elizabeth’s escort for various social functions and it was obvious to everyone, except perhaps Elizabeth herself, that Daniel was in love with her. Jack had always wondered why they hadn’t married although the answer to that was now clear.
Daniel nodded at Lucy. “You might want to join your parents. They’re getting restless.”
“Yes, of course,” Lucy said, but made no move to leave.
Daniel’s questioning gaze settled on Jack’s father. “Isn’t anyone going to introduce us?”
“No,” Mother snapped, then sighed. “Yes, well I suppose someone should.”
Jack drew a deep breath. “Uncle Daniel, this is Colonel Basil Channing.”
“Channing?” Daniel’s brow arched upward. “Are you related to Elizabeth’s late husband?”
His father nodded. “One could say that.”
“Oh, my,” Lucy said under her breath, her gaze shifting between Jack’s mother and Daniel. “The plot does thicken now.”
Mother slanted her a scathing look.
“Elizabeth?” Daniel said. “Wasn’t your late husband’s name Basil?”
“Yes, well . . .” Mother wrung her hands together and straightened her shoulders. “He’s not quite as late as one had hoped.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” Father said and took a sip of his brandy.
“Daniel.” Jack met the older man’s gaze. “This is my father.”
“Your father?” Shock followed by realization washed across Daniel’s face. “And your husband?”
Mother winced. “I’m afraid so.”
Daniel studied the Englishman. “Not dead then?”
Father chuckled. “Not yet.”
“I see.” Daniel nodded slowly. “That explains quite a lot.”
“Brandy, Mr. Lockwood?” Lucy headed for the brandy decanter without waiting for a response. Grandfather joined her, poured two glasses, and handed them to Lucy. She promptly crossed the room and gave one to Daniel.
“Thank you,” Daniel said absently and tossed back half the glass.
“The poor man’s had quite a shock, you know,” Lucy said quietly for Jack’s ears alone, handing him the second brandy on her way back to her seat. Brandy did seem like an excellent idea although good Scottish whisky might be better.
“Haven’t we all,” Jack murmured and gratefully sipped the liquor. Lucy would make an excellent hostess one day.
“Daniel.” A placating note sounded in his mother’s voice and she stepped toward the other man. “I’m sure you have a great many questions.”
Daniel stared at her. “I most certainly do.”
Mother nodded. “Yes, I did think that you—”
“At the top of that list . . .” Daniel’s brow furrowed in anger and he directed his words toward Jack’s father. “What kind of man abandons his wife and child?”
Mother winced. Lucy choked. Grandfather poured a brandy of his own.
“I’m afraid you’re jumping to conclusions, old man.” Father swirled the brandy in his glass.
“It’s not what you think,” Jack said quickly. “You have it all wrong.”
“It’s seems pretty obvious to me. In fact, it clears up a lot of discrepancies I’ve noticed through the years.” Righteous indignation sounded in Daniel’s voice. “Answer my question, Channing.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.” Father shrugged in an offhand manner. “I don’t know the answer to that particular question.”
“Oh, come now. What kind of a fool—”
“He didn’t know,” Mother blurted, then heaved a resigned sigh. “Basil had no idea he was a father. Nor did he know that our marriage was not annulled.”
“Annulled?” Daniel shook his head in confusion. “I thought he was dead.”
“Not yet,” Father said again and raised his glass in a toast.
“I don’t understand this.” Daniel rubbed his forehead. “Any of this.” He paused and stared at Mother. “You’re not a widow?”
“Not in the strictest definition of the word,” Mother said. “But I do feel—”
“All these years and you were still married?” Shock shone in Daniel’s eyes, betrayal sounded in his voice. “All that nonsense about waiting until Jackson was settled and married before you and I—”
“Really, Daniel.” Mother huffed. “That’s quite enough. I’ll explain everything later and we can discuss all of it. At the moment we have more important issues to deal with.”
“More important?” Disbelief rang in Daniel’s voice. Grandfather appeared beside him and refilled his glass. “What could possibly be more important than a dead husband coming back from the grave?”
“Not really coming back,” Father said pleasantly, “as I was never actually in the grave.”
“Basil wants to take Jackson back with him to England. To meet the rest of his family,” Mother said.
“Jackson’s family,” his father said firmly.
Mother ignored him. “Basil’s brother is an earl and Jackson will one day inherit the title.”
Daniel stared at her. “And?”
�
��And . . .” Mother chose her words with care. “If he leaves he might never come home.” A pleading note rang in her voice and she moved closer to Daniel. “Don’t you see, we could lose him entirely.”
Daniel studied her for a moment, then turned his attention to Jack. “What are you going to do, Jack?”
Jack stared at the other man. Daniel hadn’t called him Jack since he was a little boy. His heart twisted for the man who had been just as badly treated by his mother as he and his father.
Jack shook his head. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“It’s a big decision.” Daniel nodded thoughtfully. “If you want my advice, I think you should go.”
Mother gasped. “Daniel!”
“You’ve always wanted to travel, this is your chance.” Daniel favored him with a half-hearted smile. “And you’ve always wanted a father. This is your chance for that, too.”
“I think it would be a mistake for you not to go, Jackson.” Lucy met his gaze directly. “You’ve always done exactly what was expected of you. This would be, oh, an adventure I think and you should seize it. Go against everything you’ve always done. Why, you don’t have an impulsive bone in your body. You’re steadfast and reliable and not at all the type of man prone to adventure.”
“Thank you?” Jack said.
She waved off his words. “You know what I mean. You’re responsible and sensible. You don’t take risks. You don’t head off into the unknown—”
“Good Lord, Lucinda, it’s only England,” Grandfather said. “He’s not going off to explore deepest, darkest Africa. England is quite civilized. And I am sorry, Elizabeth, but this is his decision. The bank will be here when he returns.” He met his grandson’s gaze. “No regrets, Jackson, but I do apologize, for whatever it’s worth.”
Jack nodded. “Thank you.”
“Well?” Mother’s eyes held a mixture of fear and hope. “Are you going with him or not?”
Jack stared at his mother for a long moment. No matter what she had done, no matter how many poor choices she had made, she was still his mother. He didn’t doubt that she wanted what was best for him. He had never gone against her wishes before.
If someone had asked Jack last week or yesterday or even an hour ago if he had so much as a single rebellious bone in his body, he would have laughed in a wry manner and said no. His gaze shifted from one expectant face to the next. He had known all but one of them for most of his life. In that moment Jackson Quincy Graham Channing realized while he had no particular desire to be an English lord, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to be a New York banker either. At that moment he realized what he really truly wanted in life . . .
Was to escape.
Chapter Three
Eight days later, October 1887,
Millworth Manor,
the country estate of the
Earl and Countess of Briston . . .
Jack resisted the ridiculous urge to hide behind one of the potted palms clustered decoratively around the perimeter of the grand Millworth Manor ballroom.
That he was ill at ease in a social setting was a new experience. He wasn’t used to feeling both somewhat invisible and altogether conspicuous. But then what hadn’t been a new experience in the last week?
His gaze drifted over the wedding guests now enjoying the wedding ball and lingered on a lovely, tall, red-haired woman who seemed to be in charge. A friend of the family no doubt. One he would probably meet at some point. If his father ever returned.
He sipped his champagne and considered the odd twist his life had taken since the moment he had stepped into his grandfather’s library and met his father. His father. He was still trying to get used to the idea although nearly a week onboard ship together helped. He had learned a great deal about Colonel Basil Channing, about his family and his years spent in the army and the adventurous life he had lived since. Jack suspected there were few spots on the globe his father hadn’t visited. He had been on safari in Africa, traveled down the Amazon, seen for himself China’s Great Wall and the ancient temples of Angkor. He had hunted for treasure in the West Indies and the deserts of Egypt and narrowly escaped headhunters on the islands of Polynesia.
They had forged a rapport during their voyage that was part friendship, part father and son. With each day in his father’s company, Jack liked him more and more. Trusted him more and more. Onboard ship, his father had delighted in introducing Jack as his son and always with a note of pride in his voice. As odd as it was to now be someone’s son, there was something about publicly acknowledging their relationship that struck Jack as right, as it should be. As it always should have been. And if, when the conversation turned to family and home, there was a touch of wistfulness in the older man’s voice, Jack diplomatically ignored it. But that too served to strengthen the growing bond between them.
And his father called him Jack, which was as natural, as right, as everything else.
Once they arrived in England, his father was as apprehensive as his son. They agreed the colonel should find just the right moment to present his newfound offspring to the rest of the family. Jack had stayed at an inn in a nearby village last night while his father went on to Millworth Manor.
He had joined his father at the family’s ancestral home a few minutes before the late afternoon wedding. Father had decided, given the chaos at Millworth upon his arrival, to wait until after the wedding to reveal Jack’s existence to the family. While the colonel assured Jack of his welcome, it was obvious he didn’t entirely believe his own words. Jack was more than willing to take a seat in the back of the manor’s chapel for the ceremony while the colonel joined the rest of the family in the front.
Perhaps she was a member of the family? Jack’s gaze again settled on the red-haired beauty, drawn back as if of its own accord. Not that it mattered what her connection to his family was. He had Lucy to consider after all even if she had essentially broken things off with him before he left New York.
Lucy had said, as they were not officially engaged and he might well be starting a new life, and, as there would be an ocean between them, he shouldn’t for a moment consider himself under any obligation to her while he was away. She said he should regard himself as completely unencumbered. Besides, she had pointed out, this was the opportunity for both of them to discover if they were really meant to be more than good friends or if they had just assumed they were meant for each other to please their families. Why, when one thought about it, wasn’t it significant that they had both put off announcing their engagement over and over again? And really, wouldn’t it be dreadful if they married and then later discovered it was a mistake? He had objected, of course, but she had been adamant and, in the end, he had reluctantly agreed with her. He had discussed the matter during the voyage with his father who agreed that women, as a rule, were incomprehensible. His father had also noted that it was his experience that women who gave a man his freedom often did so because they wanted freedom themselves. Jack had scoffed at the time, this was Lucy they were talking about after all, but a few days later he found himself wondering why it was so easy for them to part. Why neither of them had declared their love for the other. And why that now bothered him even though there was also a distinct sense of relief. Which bothered him as well.
He took another sip of his wine and watched the redhead move from one group of guests to the next. There were a surprising number of Americans present. His father had explained that the groom, Grayson Elliott, had spent nearly a decade in America. Jack didn’t realize until he saw the man at the altar that they’d met but were no more than acquaintances. There were other Americans here too that Jack had met in the course of business although no one he knew more than casually. He thought it best to avoid them for now given that he wasn’t at all sure how to explain his presence.
He and his father had avoided the other guests after the ceremony as well. Instead of joining family and friends for an early supper in advance of the wedding ball, the colonel had escorted his son on a tou
r of Millworth’s extensive and impressive grounds. His father took him to the pond where he and his brother had skated in the winter and learned to swim in the summer, in spite of governesses who had forbidden them to go near the water. Father showed him the Grecian-style folly that was built by a long-ago owner of Millworth for his wife and told him the story of the star-crossed lovers that were said to haunt not only this folly but one exactly like it on the grounds of a nearby estate. It was foolish, of course, no sensible man believed in spirits. But it was also poignant and romantic and touching, even if one was a sensible man who did not believe in such nonsense.
And everywhere they went, everything they saw, brought to mind a memory for his father. He told Jack stories about his brother and his brother’s children, the girls who had grown up here. He talked about those long-gone generations of Channings who had made Millworth their home and spoke of heritage and history. But with everything his father told him, everything they talked about, the one thing his father didn’t say was the one thing that hung unspoken in the air between them: One day all this will be yours.
Jack still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. If he wanted to be the next earl, wanted everything that went along with it, or not. And even if by virtue of blood he was half English, in mind and spirit he was firmly American. Still, there was no need to make a decision about his future yet. His father had recommended he take one step at a time and Jack had to meet his new family first. His father was even now breaking the news of his existence to them.
The red-haired woman laughed at something said to her and even at a distance it sounded delightful and genuine.
Onboard ship his father had said there was nothing that made a man feel more optimistic about life than a dance and a flirtation with a beautiful woman. Jack could use a bit of optimism at the moment. He hadn’t felt this ill at ease in a social setting since his first ball more than a decade ago. Even now he remembered the discomfort of the stiff, starched collar of his formal attire. The collar he wore now was every bit as annoying as the first but he no longer noticed. Odd how one grew accustomed to even the most uncomfortable things with time and age and experience. Although he suspected he would never grow used to feeling out of place.
The Shocking Secret of a Guest at the Wedding (Millworth Manor) Page 4