He chuckled. “My apologies then.” He paused. “I’m simply in excellent spirits at the moment. My father tried to hide it but it was obvious that he was pleased by my return last night.” He glanced at her. “I have you to thank for that.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“And he has promised not to occupy my every waking moment. I have yet to hear from my mother.” He cast her a chiding look. “And while I haven’t written to her directly, I have written to my grandfather as is the responsible thing to do.”
“Good.”
“Furthermore, as you have reminded me, Christmas is only a month away. I have always loved Christmas.”
“Everyone loves Christmas, Jack. I would be quite disappointed in you if you didn’t.”
They moved to the next ancient sculpture, yet another depiction of Ramses II.
“I used to write to him at Christmas. My father, that is.”
She started. “But you thought he was dead.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“I thought it was Father Christmas children wrote to.”
“No, in that you English are wrong. They write to Santa Claus,” he said firmly, then paused as if debating whether to continue. “When I was very young I began writing to my father at Christmas instead of Santa Claus. No one ever talked about my father, you see. He was never mentioned. In my mind, he was every bit as mythical and magical as Santa. So I started writing to him.” He chuckled. “Even as I grew older and knew how silly it was, I would write, one letter a year. Telling him about my life, what I had done in the past year, what I was thinking, what I wanted. I would catalog an entire year in that letter. It became my own private Christmas tradition. My life is chronicled in those letters.” A self-conscious smile quirked a corner of his lips. “I said it was silly.”
“It’s not the least bit silly. It’s quite touching and very sweet,” she said softly. Her heart twisted for the little boy who wrote to a father he never knew. “And this will be your first Christmas together.”
“I am both looking forward to it and a little apprehensive. As a boy, I always wanted to have a father for Christmas. Now that I do, well . . .” He blew a long breath. “I’ve never told anyone about those letters.” His brow furrowed and he considered her curiously, as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve. “You do make me say the oddest things.”
She stared at him for a moment, then grinned. “Excellent.”
He laughed. There was something about the way the man laughed that melted her heart and warmed her soul. Utter nonsense, of course.
“Now then, Jack, we need to—”
“I am well aware of what we need to do but at the moment, I am thoroughly enjoying the lost treasures of one of the greatest civilizations man has ever known.” He took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. “With my beautiful fiancée by my side. What man wouldn’t be in excellent spirits?”
“I am not your fiancée,” she said firmly, but smiled all the same. “And about that, we do need to decide on a plan.”
“Do we? And I thought you already had.” He chuckled and they moved to the next granite statue of Ramses II.
“Goodness, Jack.” She frowned at the ancient work. “Is Ramses II the only king worthy of acknowledgement?”
He laughed. “No, but he is regarded as one of the greatest rulers in Egyptian history. Didn’t they teach you that at Miss Bicklesham’s?”
“Probably, but it’s obviously slipped my mind. I am far more concerned with what is happening in London today than in Egypt thousands of years ago. And I do wish you would be more concerned about it as well.” She cast him an accusing frown. “You haven’t paid the least bit of attention to anything I’ve said.”
“On the contrary, my dear Theodosia.” He directed his words to her but continued to study the figure of the dead king before them, as if Ramses II had the answer to questions Jack had yet to ask. “You said we should continue to behave as if we are engaged until Christmas. You further said I should give you a Christmas gift that is entirely wrong for you, which would be the beginning of the end as it would indicate we scarcely know each other well enough to marry.” He glanced at her. “Quite shallow of you really to discard me simply because I choose the wrong gift.”
“I can be extremely shallow or at least I used to be,” she said. “Besides, I can’t think of anything else. In very many ways you are perfect for me. If I was interested in marriage,” she added quickly.
“So . . .” He glanced at her. “What exactly might I give you that would be entirely wrong?”
“Anything to do with birds.” She shivered. “I realize it makes no sense but all that flocking and gathering and watching. I find them rather . . . ominous.”
“Birds?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “And I detest feathers, specifically peacock feathers. I know they’re very popular on hats and fans and whatnot but I can’t abide them.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “When I was very young, I got the absurd image of a featherless peacock in my head, I’m still not sure how. A large, angry, featherless peacock. I swear whenever I see one of those birds it looks as though it is plotting revenge on all those women foolish enough to wear feathers they have no right to.”
“Peacock feathers it is then.” He grinned. “So to continue on with your plan, in the days after Christmas we begin with little disputes, small disagreements, minor things that build until, the day of the ball, we tell your mother we have had a change of heart and have decided we do not suit after all.”
She stared. “You were listening to me.”
“Every word.” He chuckled. “But I do have a question. It might even be a flaw in your plan.”
She scoffed. “I doubt that.”
“What happens then?”
“When?”
“After you and I end our engagement, won’t your mother still try to convince you to marry Simon?”
“Probably.” Her jaw tightened. “But I have no intention . . .” She turned and met his gaze firmly. “You told me your secret.”
“Did I?” Caution sounded in his voice.
She nodded. “About the letters to your father.”
“Yes, of course,” he murmured.
“May I tell you a secret of mine?”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like better than to hear your secrets.” A wicked twinkle shone in his eye.
“No doubt,” she said under her breath and led him to a marble bench along one wall of the gallery. She sat down and gestured for him to join her.
“When my father died . . .” This was harder than she’d thought. Dee was the only other person who knew this and even she didn’t know all the details surrounding her father and her late fiancé’s illicit financial dealings. There were some things one didn’t tell even one’s closest friend. But Jack was remarkably easy to talk to and it seemed, well, right to confide in him. She wasn’t sure why she knew that and preferred not to question it. Still, it wasn’t easy. She clasped her hands together in her lap. “After his death, I discovered he had been deeply embroiled in something rather unsavory. An investment of sorts that went horribly awry. Exposure was apparently imminent. If his heart hadn’t failed when it did . . .” She shuddered. “He might well have gone to prison. If there was anything fortunate about his death it’s that it ended any further investigation and any possibility of scandal.” She smiled weakly. “But then Father always did appreciate a twist at the end of a play.”
Father hadn’t been a bad sort, a villain, as far as she knew but then she hadn’t really known him as anything other than a kind but distant figure. Of course, it would have been different had she been born male. How very ironic that the girl her father seemed to have little use for was now responsible for cleaning up the mess he had left behind. And wouldn’t he have loved that particular twist?
She drew a calming breath and continued. “I’m not sure if he had financial difficulties before his involvement or if his situation was the end result.
It scarcely matters now, I suppose. There were debts as well. The consequences of all this are that . . . well . . .” She drew a deep breath. “We were left, not entirely penniless, we did keep the house in London, but other than that . . .” She wrinkled her nose. “Penniless is as good a word as any and more accurate than most.”
“I see.”
“So, my mother’s and my little enterprise is indeed a business but one that would never survive if society realized that we needed the income. That we weren’t just dilettantes playing a game of commerce in our spare moments. Our commissions would vanish.” She shook her head. “Poverty, Jack, is a very great sin here among people with titles and power, even greater than scandal. But scandal too would destroy us.”
He nodded.
“While my mother has yet to face the fact that our world as we knew it is gone forever, I have recently accepted that life will never be as I expected it. And I believe it’s time to embrace my new life.” She raised her chin. “I am a woman of business, Jack. An independent woman of business. And while it wouldn’t be at all wise for me to acknowledge that publicly, I have at last acknowledged it to myself. I intend to stand on my own two feet and make my fortune with my business. And I further intend to be the most exclusive and successful planner of wedding and society events in England.”
“To prove to the world that you can?”
“No, to prove it to myself.” She searched for the right words. “A woman like myself is raised with certain expectations. That ultimately she will be a good wife, a good hostess, a good mother, a good Lady Whomever. Her training and education is with those goals in mind. No one, including herself, imagines for even a moment that she might deviate from the course set for her. So she does tend to question if that which is expected of her is all she is able to do. And . . .” Her tone hardened. “I need to know that I can indeed accomplish what I have set out to do.”
“I see.” He nodded. “There’s more though, isn’t there?”
She nodded. “Last night I gave this a great deal of thought along with our predicament. Given the events I have scheduled between now and the end of the year, and including my fee for coordinating your aunt’s ball, I shall finally be able to pay off the last of Father’s creditors. Fortunately, those who lend credit or money to the aristocracy in this country are quite patient and discreet as long as one makes regular payments. You have no idea what a sense of freedom just the thought brings to me.”
“I can imagine.”
“I don’t believe you really can but thank you for the sentiment. Once Father’s debts are no longer hanging over us, my mother might give up her quest to find me a perfect match. Or at least temper it. I have accepted that our lives have changed. Now she has to. And then, while I still have no intention of allowing the world as a whole to know the truth of my business, I intend to put my foot down with my mother. About marriage and my future.” She cast him a wry smile. “I’m not sure one can be an independent woman without standing up to one’s mother.”
He considered her thoughtfully but didn’t say a word.
“Well?” she said at last.
“Well,” he said slowly. “I was wondering if you were going to tell me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I suspected something of the sort although you do hide it well.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “How did you know?”
“Small details, minor things that probably go unnoticed for the most part to most people. But I am a banker and as such, I’m well used to dealing with people whose finances aren’t quite what they want the world to believe.”
She sighed. “Go on.”
“Are you sure?”
“Better to know than not to know, I think.”
“As you wish.” He studied her for a moment. “No woman of means would allow her clothing to be anything other than pristine and your gowns are just a shade worn. Not shabby, mind you, but definitely not perfect.”
She nodded. “And?”
“And your mother has an air of desperation about her that has nothing to do with securing a good marriage for you. And you chafe at any suggestion that your life might not be as it appears.” He leaned closer and met her gaze firmly. “Furthermore, you work entirely too hard for someone who is simply playing at business.”
“Oh.” His comments weren’t at all easy to hear but she couldn’t deny the truth of them. Maybe it was indeed time to set aside her pride and borrow some of Dee’s clothes, at least until she could replenish her own wardrobe. As for the rest of it, there was nothing to be done about her mother although for the first time in a long time this morning her mother had seemed somewhat less tightly laced than usual. “Thank you, Jack. I shall do better in the future.”
“I’m sure you will.” He chuckled. “As for our charade . . .” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a small jeweler’s box. “You should probably wear this.”
“Jack!” Her gaze skipped from the box to his eyes and for an instant her heart stuttered at the look she saw. Obviously, she was mistaken. As he’d said, this was only a charade.
“Take it.”
“I couldn’t possibly.”
“Of course you can.” He opened the box, and took out a gold ring adorned with a large opal encircled by diamonds.
“Jack!” She stared at the ring and he slipped it on her finger. “It looks so . . . so . . .” She held out her hand and the diamonds flashed in the light, the opal shimmered like crystal fire. “Perfect.” She fairly sighed the word.
“You don’t think it’s too large? Too pretentious?”
“Goodness, Jack.” She scoffed. “Did your mother teach you nothing? A quality gemstone can never be too large. And, as long as it’s real, it can never be considered pretentious.”
He chuckled. “I bought it this morning and I can assure you, it’s real.”
“Still . . .” Reluctantly, she pulled her gaze away from the flashing brilliance on her hand. “This really wasn’t necessary.”
“If we’re to carry off the deception and fool your mother it is. She might get suspicious if there was no ring, no token of my affection.”
“And God knows what she might do then. At least she has agreed to abide by our request not to say anything until we’re ready to announce our engagement.”
“A lot can happen in five weeks.” A warning sounded in his voice.
“I know.”
“However, I can think of nothing I would like better than to play the role of smitten fiancé.”
“You don’t have to be smitten you know,” she said with a smile. “Attentive will do.”
“I can be both. Besides, being with you is a legitimate reason why I am not with my father.”
“Oh dear.” She drew her brows together. “I hadn’t thought of that. What will you tell your father?”
“The truth, of course. That I am spending time with the enchanting Lady Theodosia in an effort to assist her on matters of a financial nature regarding her . . . hobby.”
“He’s certain to suspect something.”
“Possibly.” Jack shrugged. “But I doubt that he would say anything. I don’t think my father is who we should be concerned about. Should my aunt or my cousins or anyone other than my father learn of this engagement—”
She shuddered. “We’d be trapped.”
He raised a brow.
“Not trapped exactly,” she said quickly. “But it would be extremely difficult to explain. And there would be a certain amount of scandal should our ruse become public.”
“I suppose one never thinks of the possible repercussions when one performs an act of heroism,” he said somberly but laughter lurked in his eyes.
“Obviously one of the downfalls of being a hero.” She cocked her head to one side and considered him. “Still, it does seem to suit you.”
“Yes, indeed. Nothing like a stodgy, straitlaced hero.” He grinned, got to his feet, then offered his hand to
help her up.
“You’re not, you know.” She stood up and met his gaze firmly.
“What?” He smiled. “Stodgy and straitlaced or a hero?”
“You certainly aren’t stodgy and straitlaced and in spite of what you’ve said, I don’t think you ever were.” Without thinking, she reached out and straightened his necktie.
He caught her hand and at once she realized how shockingly intimate her gesture was. And realized as well it had seemed completely natural.
“You don’t?” He stared down at her.
A voice in her head urged caution. She had decided upon a course for her life and he played no part in it. Nor did she want him to. They had become friends and friends was all they would be, in spite of dreams late in the night when he was so much more than merely a friend.
“No, I don’t. A man doesn’t change who he is deep down inside. I think stodgy and straitlaced was no more than a chapter in your life you are now moving past. And whether I wished it or not, you were indeed my hero.” That annoying, rational voice of reason faded, overcome by the louder thud of her heart. “And I suspect, if we were truly to be married . . .” Her gaze locked with his. “You always would be.”
Chapter Fourteen
One week later,
The residence of Lady Hargate . . .
“I have a confession to make.” Jack smiled down at Theodosia in the foyer of his cousin’s house where he was just about to quite properly take his leave.
“Oh good, another confession.” Theodosia grinned up at him. “I have grown quite fond of your confessions.”
“Have you?” His brow rose. “I wasn’t aware I had made enough confessions for you to have grown fond of them.”
“You, Jackson Channing, are a veritable treasure trove of secrets all waiting for you to confess. Or . . .” A wicked smile lurked in her eyes. “For me to uncover.”
“I suspect we all have secrets, Theodosia. Even you.”
“Oh my, yes, Jack.” She pulled off her gloves and tossed them onto the table by the front door. “I too am filled with secrets just waiting to be revealed. Although, as you are the one confessing at the moment, I shall say no more. I will only tell you that my secrets are extraordinarily ordinary.”
The Shocking Secret of a Guest at the Wedding (Millworth Manor) Page 20