The Shocking Secret of a Guest at the Wedding (Millworth Manor)

by Victoria Alexander

  “Theodosia—”

  “Most people would sell their souls for the opportunity presented to you now. It’s a grand adventure you’re embarked upon now, Jack.”

  “I realize—”

  “Furthermore, in case you have forgotten, we have already established that I thought you quite dashing and intriguing and mysterious when we first met. All qualities any man of adventure, any true hero would certainly display.”

  He stared down at her. “Are you finished?”

  “No,” she said sharply. “Perhaps.” She paused. “Yes, I believe I am.”

  “You’re very good at this.”

  “I know.” She cast him a smug smile. “Brides and hostesses are remarkably difficult to manage. I usually tell them to breathe deeply and slowly.”

  “Does it work?”

  “On occasion.” Although the effects were usually short-lived. “Let me ask you a question.”

  He nodded. “Go on.”

  “If you were in New York, at a gathering of men like the colonel, would you feel ill at ease?”

  “Oh, but I would never go to . . .” He paused. “But I would like to. And why shouldn’t I?”

  “Why indeed?”

  He stared at her and she had the distinct sense he wasn’t looking at her at all. Even in the faint light she noted a change in his eyes. A realization perhaps or acknowledgement or resolve. “No,” he said slowly, “I wouldn’t feel the least bit self-conscious. Of course, that’s my native environment if you will, and this is completely different.”

  “Is it?” She studied him closely. “Couldn’t one say, as you are just as English by blood as you are American, you belong in this world every bit as much as you do the other? You simply have to get used to it, that’s all. You said it yourself. One step at a time.”

  “You make it sound simple.” A thoughtful note sounded in his voice.

  “It is or at least it will be,” she said staunchly.

  “You barely know me.” His gaze searched hers. “How can you be so certain?”

  “Probably for the same reason you confided in me, I imagine.” Because for one moment at Camille’s wedding ball there was something . . . something special that passed between them. Not that it really mattered even if it was nearly impossible to forget.

  “Kindred spirits?”

  “I suppose that’s possible but it’s more likely that I was very nearly the first person you met here.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” he said under his breath and it struck her that he didn’t believe that any more than she did.

  “I have a feeling about you, Jackson Channing,” she said in as lighthearted a manner as she could muster. “Besides, I suspect there’s far more of your father in you than merely appearance.” She hesitated. “You asked for my help at Millworth and I was not especially gracious about it. But I am now offering you any assistance you might need. With names or titles or the nuances of society here. Do feel free to call on me if you need my help.”

  “You’re being very nice.”

  “Oh, I am usually nice. Not to you, of course . . .”

  “I do appreciate it. You’re right, you know.” He thought for a moment. “I should have seen it myself. I was comfortable in the life I was leading. I was rarely in a situation new to me. Now, everything is new but while my circumstances have changed, I haven’t. Not really.”

  “Perhaps you should think of it all as a challenge. And don’t the best adventures always include a challenge of some sort?”

  “It is a challenge.” He nodded. “I’ve never backed down from a challenge before but then I can’t recall ever being faced with one as all-encompassing as this.”

  “Nonetheless, I daresay, this is one you are more than equal to.”

  “Am I?” He smiled down at her.

  “Well, you are your father’s son.” She shook her head. “You shouldn’t forget that.”

  “I won’t.” He paused. “You know I like them. These friends of my father’s. They may well be the most interesting people I have ever met.”

  “Surely not more interesting than bankers?”

  “God forbid!” He grinned, then sobered. “Thank you, Theodosia.”

  “For bringing you to your senses?” She shrugged. “You would have arrived there on your own eventually.”

  “Probably.” He stared down into her eyes for a long moment and she wondered if he were truly seeing into her soul or if it only felt that way.

  She swallowed hard. “Well, you should . . .”

  “Yes, I should.”

  She took off his coat and handed it to him. “Thank you, for the coat that is. I’ll follow in a moment.”

  “Very well.” He pulled on his coat, stepped to the doors, and opened one. “I will call on you, you know.”

  “I expect you to.” She smiled. “I look forward to giving you any assistance I can.”

  “After all.” He grinned. “I do need all the help I can get.”

  “I won’t help you at all if you throw my words back in my face.”

  He laughed, stepped into the corridor, and let the door close behind him.

  It took her a moment to realize she was still smiling like some sort of madwoman. That had gone well. Better than well, really. They were becoming . . . friends was probably the only word for it. She stepped toward the doors.

  Abruptly the doors opened and Jack stepped back onto the terrace. “I forgot something.”

  Without warning he swept her into his arms and kissed her long and hard. Then released her so quickly she had no time to protest. Not that she was able to do so.

  Not that she wanted to.

  “Now, that was very helpful.” He grinned that infectious irresistible smile that had haunted her since their first meeting, turned, and once again disappeared into the building.

  She stared after him, the cold completely forgotten.

  And wasn’t that unexpected? She sank down onto a wrought-iron bench. Although maybe it wasn’t. Maybe they had been headed straight toward one another from the moment she had turned around at the wedding ball and looked into his blue eyes. Hadn’t her traitorous heart skipped a beat?

  This man was everything she’d ever thought she wanted. Everything she’d ever expected to have.

  And wasn’t that bloody well inconvenient?

  Chapter Eight

  One week later,

  Channing House,

  London . . .

  “. . . and then, of course, the beast, realizing the futility . . .”

  Jack smiled and nodded in the appropriate places but his mind wandered from yet another story of adventure from the dozen or so gentlemen his father had gathered for a dinner party at Channing House in London. Most of the men here were longtime friends of his father’s, shared common interests, and were his contemporaries in age or older. Thankfully, Gray and Sam were in attendance as well. Jack had become better acquainted with both gentlemen since the wedding. They frequently came into London and Jack had had the opportunity to see their motorwagon for himself. It was indeed remarkable.

  “. . . nor that my skill has lessened in any way, although I will admit . . .”

  Not that each and every story wasn’t fascinating. They were the stuff his head had been filled with as a boy. But after hearing several tonight alone about the follies of being inadequately supplied on an African safari or the deadly encounters with predators in the wilds of some jungle or other, or the latest news on who was organizing an expedition to where, even Jack’s mind was prone to wander.

  And there was only one place it wandered to. Or rather one person.

  Try as he might, he hadn’t managed to see Theodosia again after their encounter on the terrace at the Explorers Club. And that had been a full week ago. Although he had certainly made an effort.

  “. . . and, naturally, the gun bearer took it upon himself . . .”

  He had planned to dance with her again at the Explorers Club and while he had noted her arrival
in the ballroom shortly after his return, the next time he looked for her, the woman had vanished. Deliberately, no doubt. He probably shouldn’t have kissed her. It was an irresistible impulse, in and of itself unusual for him, and had surprised him as much as it did her. But he would do it again under the same circumstances. In fact, he fully intended to do it again under any circumstances. There was something between them, he couldn’t quite put his finger on exactly what, but something. Something worth pursuing. He certainly liked her; whether there was more than that remained to be seen. But he intended to find out. She was, after all, his first real adventure.

  “. . . so it did seem to me at the time, although in hindsight. . .”

  Jack had managed to call on her twice in the past week but she wasn’t home on either occasion. He had left his card the first time and his card with a brief note written on the back the second. But, as he hadn’t arranged to meet her, he couldn’t complain that he hadn’t heard from her although it was annoying. He did hope he hadn’t offended her or worse scared her but he wouldn’t apologize for kissing her. He wasn’t the least bit sorry. And while the kiss had been entirely too short to be certain of her reactions, she hadn’t seemed indignant afterward. Of course, he’d given her no opportunity to be. But damn it all, he did want to see her again. The only question was when.

  Even finding the time to call on her hadn’t been easy; his father had kept him busier than he had ever imagined. The colonel belonged to an endless number of gentlemen’s clubs and diverse organizations. Colonel Basil Channing was a man of many and varied interests and was determined to acquaint his son with what seemed like each and every member of each and every organization. That, coupled with showing Jack everything there was to see in London from St. Paul’s to Westminster, and Jack had hardly had a moment to himself.

  The shuffling of chairs snapped his attention back to the table. He rose to his feet and regretted his lack of attention. The other gentlemen headed toward the door.

  His father turned to him. “Jack, are you going to join us in the billiards room?”

  “There’s nothing like billiards and port after a good dinner,” Sir Hugo Tolliver said. He was the director of the Explorers Club and Jack had met him often enough during these last weeks in London to remember the man’s name. “I assume there will be cigars as well.”

  His father scoffed. “Good God, Tolliver, when hasn’t there been?”

  “I just wanted to make certain,” Sir Hugo muttered, and made his way out the door. “I’ll need a good cigar if we’re going to further discuss the blasted women’s issue. Fairer sex my . . .”

  Most of his father’s friends were already out of the room and a chorus of groans echoed from the hall.

  His father chuckled. “Sir Hugo is not what one would call progressive.”

  “And do you think membership should be given to women?” Jack asked.

  “I haven’t decided yet. I know any number of women who deserve membership but there’s a lot to consider.” He thought for a moment. “The world is changing, Jack. More so than ever before, I think. We would be fools to dig our heels in and not change with it. However, there is much to be said for not abandoning long-held tradition.”

  “Excellent answer, Colonel.” Gray joined them, Sam a step behind him. “Are you sure Lionel is the politician in the family?”

  “I’d rather face a herd of charging elephants than any single member of Parliament.” Father shuddered. “Well, gentlemen, shall we join the others?”

  “If you don’t mind, Colonel, Gray and I would like to have a few words with Jack,” Sam said with a smile. “We have a couple of questions, financial questions, that have come up regarding the, oh, financing of the company we’re creating to produce the motorwagon.”

  Jack narrowed his gaze. Sam and Gray were both successful and accomplished in business and finance. They were far more experienced in matters of an entrepreneurial nature than he was. “I don’t think—”

  “And who better than a banker to advise us,” Gray added quickly.

  “Who better indeed.” His father nodded. “I assume you’ll be chatting in the conservatory then?”

  “That was the idea, sir.” Gray smiled weakly.

  “Grayson, you know where the cigars are?”

  Gray nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t set the place on fire.”

  Gray grinned. “I believe you told me the same thing when I was seventeen.”

  “And?”

  “It wasn’t me.” Gray shook his head.

  “Hmph.” Father cast Gray a skeptical look and started after his friends, pausing at the doorway. “Tell me one thing, gentlemen. Is it the age of the rest of us, the generation difference and all that, or have you just tired of the stories?”

  “Oh, we would never tire of the stories, Colonel,” Gray said quickly.

  “And this is the first time I’ve heard them,” Sam added.

  He looked at his son. “Jack?”

  “They are excellent stories, sir.” He chose his words with care. “Filled with adventures generally of a perilous nature. They’re not the kind of stories you tire of hearing.”

  “Even if you’ve heard several of them more than once since you’ve been in London?”

  “Knowing the end just makes them more enjoyable,” Jack said staunchly. He would never want to insult his father’s friends but if he heard one more story involving a tiger, a head hunter, or even a runaway Indian princess—although he was curious as to why there were so many runaway Indian princesses—he would run screaming through the streets of London himself. Even if that would just provide the older gentlemen one more story to tell.

  “That’s what I thought. There’s a bit of the politician in you as well.” Father chuckled. “Don’t forget the brandy.” He nodded at a decanter on the sideboard.

  “We would never forget the brandy,” Sam murmured, handing three glasses to Jack and grabbing the decanter.

  “Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen,” the colonel said and took his leave.

  “Come on then, men.” Gray led the way toward the conservatory through the maze of the mansion’s rooms, one leading directly into the next. An arrangement Jack found extremely confusing. He still didn’t have his bearings in the grand London house his family had owned for generations. Fortunately, Gray knew the house fairly well. Jack and Sam trailed behind him.

  “Why the conservatory?” Jack asked.

  “Cigars are only allowed in the billiards room and your father and his friends are going to be there,” Gray said over his shoulder.

  “And we thought you could use a break,” Sam added under his breath. “It must be exhausting to be the colonel’s son.”

  “Exhausting is putting it mildly. Not that it hasn’t been enjoyable,” Jack added quickly. “And it’s a new experience, for both of us, this father-son business. We’re learning as we go along.”

  “From what we’ve heard the colonel is keeping you busy.”

  Jack snorted. “Between seeing every sight in London and meeting everyone who has ever crossed his path, frantic is a better term for it than merely busy.”

  Gray pushed open the door to the conservatory. The room was nearly two stories, the outside walls almost entirely glass. The space was filled with an impressive variety of tropical plants, ferns, and any number of foliage Jack couldn’t identify. A large palm grew from a huge planter in the center of it all, soaring nearly to the glass ceiling. Jack had been in the conservatory once before to see the rare orchids his father had collected on a trip to South America. Gray circled the palm to a seating area on the far side of the room furnished with cushioned wicker chairs and tables. It was a perfect spot to read a book or contemplate the twists and turns of life, especially if one wanted privacy and didn’t want to be seen from the door. A perfect place to escape. Jack made a mental note of that for future reference.

  Gray waved for the others to take a seat, then moved to a small decorative chest nearly hidden by a b
anana plant. A humidor if Jack’s suspicions were correct. Gray flipped open the lid, then chuckled. “I must say, I appreciate it when things are exactly where they’re supposed to be.”

  He selected three cigars, a silver cigar cutter, and matches. A few minutes later all three men had a brandy in one hand, a cigar in the other, and were savoring the enjoyment of good cigars, fine brandy, and excellent companionship.

  Jack blew a stream of smoke into the air. “I thought you said cigars were only allowed in the billiards room?”

  “They are.” Gray puffed on his cigar. “This is the colonel’s secret supply. You might not have noticed but no one walking by the conservatory can see this spot. And the plants seem to either absorb or dissipate the smoke. Or perhaps they just hide it. I have no idea really. My cousin and I discovered this on a visit here when we were boys.” He paused. “It’s a good place to escape if one needs to.”

  Jack smiled wryly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “So what are you thinking, Jack?” Gray asked in an overly casual manner.

  “At the moment or overall?”

  Gray shrugged. “Whatever you wish.”

  “Well, at the moment, I’m thinking that Camille and or Delilah with urging from their mother or their father or both sent you here to ask that very question.”

  Sam laughed. “He’s got you there.”

  “You needn’t sound so smug.” Gray’s eyes narrowed at his friend. “They included you in this. One American to another was how they phrased it, if I recall.”

  “And didn’t I say I had no intentions of spying on anyone?”

  “We’re not spying.” Gray scoffed. “We’re coming straight out and asking him what his thoughts are on this new life he’s been thrust into.”

  “Better us than anyone else.” Sam turned to Jack and met his gaze directly. “Gray and I have been friends for years. Now we find ourselves in a, I don’t know, a brotherhood of sorts or an exclusive club. Membership is limited to Gray and Lionel, who have married into this family, and now to me since I’m about to marry into it.”

  “I suspected as much,” Jack said with a smile. “Congratulations.”