Gideon Hale. Lord Winthrop.
Shoulder to shoulder with Matthew, the resemblance between father and son was startling. From the strong arch of his cheekbones to the firm lines of his jaw, Matthew had inherited Winthrop’s classically carved features, and the same steely resolve flashed in both men’s dark eyes.
“I see you’ve finally decided to show yourself.” Pain colored Winthrop’s penetrating gaze. “Or am I to read the truth in the morning edition?”
“I’ve come to seek your assistance.” Matthew’s voice was low. Tightly controlled.
Winthrop’s forehead creased. “My assistance? Perhaps hell truly has frozen over.”
“I’ve struck deals with the devil before. What’s one more?”
…
Humphries tossed another log on the fire and stoked the flames to a hearty roar. Standing at the hearth’s edge, Winthrop turned to Jennie.
“I understand you’re an investigative reporter. So, the Herald’s taken up Joseph Pulitzer’s penchant for stunts. I thought the world had its fill of females creating their own news after that American, Nellie Bly, made it round the world.”
She folded her hands primly on her lap. Better that than to display her tension with clenched fingers. “I assure you my investigations are not stunts. My most recent inquiries uncovered evidence that will destroy what’s left of Harwick’s organization.”
Winthrop’s gaze fell upon his son. Jennie’s heart thudded against her ribs. The harsh lines etched on the older man’s face seemed to grow more pronounced, even as a faint glimmer—hope, perhaps—lit his eyes.
“Matthew, were you ever going to tell me the truth?”
As the old wound reopened, misery etched Matthew’s features with a nearly palpable pain.
“My life was a lie. I became the embodiment of everything I sought to destroy, all to cement my place at Harwick’s side.”
Lord Winthrop shook his head. “You did what you had to do to gain that cur’s trust. As I see it, there was no other way. But you might have confided in me. You might have spared me the agony of believing my son had become a thug…a common criminal…just like that blackguard.”
“I couldn’t chance it.” Matthew scrubbed a hand over his face. “I couldn’t put you in danger.”
Lord Winthrop’s shoulders lifted, as if an immense weight had been removed from them. “All that time…allied with that jackal—that was all part of a plan?”
“Not a plan—an opportunity. He destroyed my life, all to lure me to his side. I seized the chance to infiltrate his organization.”
Jennie studied the man she’d come to love. She smiled, drinking in the sight of him. “And here I’d convinced myself I reformed you. I must admit I’m rather disappointed.”
Matthew’s mouth crooked into a smile. “I doubt either of us could reform the other.”
“Quite true,” she agreed. Of course, she wouldn’t change a thing about his delicious wickedness, especially the devilish hunger in his eyes when they were alone behind closed doors.
Winthrop leaned against the fireplace and shoved a poker in the flames. “I always knew…I knew you were innocent.”
“I was dead to you,” Matthew replied, his despair open and raw. “Only Bertram remained at my side.”
His father shook his head. “You and I…we exchanged words that should never have been spoken. But I never believed you’d become like him. Never. You rebuffed my attempts to vindicate you. By thunder, you could have trusted me.”
“The life I’d known was gone.” Matthew paced before the window, his heels hard on the polished wood planks. “The Home Secretary offered me a devil’s bargain. My neck on the line, in exchange for the ability to destroy Harwick.”
“And the incompetents left you on your own to deal with that den of vipers.” Winthrop pounded a thick fist against the mantel. “Inexcusable.”
“I had contacts. Some of the best agents in Britain,” Matthew said. “I gave Claude what he wanted all along—my fall from grace. Then I used it to topple his empire.”
Color dappled Winthrop’s pale cheeks. “All this time…in my gut, I knew.”
“Lord Winthrop fought for you,” Jennie spoke up, her need to ease Matthew’s pain giving her the strength to confront him. “Good heavens, he even went to the Home Secretary after your trial.”
“My arguments must have proven quite amusing to the high and mighty bastard, given the deal he’d crafted with you.” Bitterness flavored Winthrop’s words.
Matthew looked as though he’d taken a blow. “No one could know the truth. The danger to you was too great.”
Winthrop’s rigid posture sagged. “I would have taken that risk.”
“But I couldn’t.” Matthew reached out, touching his father’s shoulder. “And that I will always regret.”
Winthrop straightened his shoulders. He coughed, as if to clear away the emotion choking his voice. “That’s done now. You said you’d come for my assistance. What do you ask of me?”
Matthew’s eyes darkened with emotion. “I’ve come to request your forgiveness…for the pain I’ve caused you.”
Winthrop regarded his son for a long, silent moment. His throat constricted, and his eyes gleamed with moisture. He reached for Matthew, enfolding him in his embrace. “The past is dead. I have my son again.”
Winthrop took a step back. He fixed his attention on Jennie. “Now, Matthew, tell me about the future you’re making. I trust this lovely young woman will be a part of it.”
Matthew caught her hand in his. A genuine smile curved his lips. “Jennie and I plan to wed at the earliest opportunity. Her parents are due to return from their Egyptian expedition in a fortnight. We’ll take our vows soon after.”
Jennie met the penetrating gaze of the man who would soon be her father-in-law—a man of power and privilege who’d had the courage to claim a son, born on the wrong side of the blanket, as his own. In his dark eyes, she saw the same strength she’d come to respect in Matthew.
Winthrop’s face lit with warmth and joy. A knowing smile curved his mouth. “The two of you…you’re well suited.”
Once again, Matthew took her hand. “With Jennie at my side, I’ll always find my way home.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Six months later
Jennie bustled up to Macalister Campbell’s office. She knocked—three brisk raps on his door—and strode through the portal without awaiting an invitation to enter. At her side, Douglas cocked his chin high, eyes bright as he took in the surroundings with unfettered enthusiasm.
“Someday, I’ll have a grand office like this,” he announced, meeting Campbell’s curious gaze. “Maybe even this one.”
Campbell eyed Jennie over his spectacles. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
She slid a wing chair close to his desk and perched on the edge of the seat. “I have news, though I fear you may not embrace this particular revelation.”
His brows rose. “Coming from you, Jennie, I consider it quite positive that you’re still in one piece.”
“Now Mac, I have reformed…a bit.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible. You’ve always sought out adventures.” Campbell relaxed against his well-used leather chair. “Like your father, I suppose.”
“Yes, definitely like Father.” She steepled her fingers and peered over the tips. She was stalling. Quite shamelessly, in fact. But the latest developments had come as quite a shock, even to her.
“You’re not planning to abandon this paper to work for that cutthroat Hearst, are you?”
“Of course not.” Jennie waved away the notion. She’d already turned down an offer from William Randolph Hearst’s New York Journal. But Campbell didn’t need to know that.
“It’s bad enough the Examiner broke the story when the East End strangler met his demise. My star reporter allowed some blustering hack to get an exclusive with the patrolman who killed the lunatic.”
She bit back a smile. “Pity. As I recall, I
was entirely distracted by my honeymoon at the time. Paris was magnificent, by the way.”
Campbell met her words with a scowl. “The Examiner dubbed the killer the ‘Terror of the Thames.’ A bloody good headline if I’ve ever seen one.”
“In any case, it’s a moot point now. I am embarking upon a new endeavor.”
Hoping her face didn’t betray her giddy excitement, she glanced over to the bookshelves, watching as Douglas pulled a leather-bound volume from the shelf. He flipped it open and examined the book with a studious gaze. The lad had possessed a rudimentary understanding of reading when she and Matthew brought Douglas and his sister into their home. Now, Jennie’s efforts, combined with the expertise of one of the finest tutors in London, had seen the boy leap ahead in his comprehension. Before long, he’d be able to embark on a well-rounded education.
Campbell cast Douglas a stern glance, then settled his gaze on Jennie. “You do realize that’s a first edition.”
Douglas whipped him a glare. “I’ll have ye know my hands are clean.”
“No doubt.” The taut line of Campbell’s mouth eased. “Blast it all, Jennie, the lad’s already taking on your attitude. And to think, it’s been a matter of months.”
“Six, to be precise.” She rubbed the lad’s shoulder with an affectionate touch. Soon, Douglas and Sally would bear the Colton name, children of their heart.
“Such a short time, and yet, the children are doing remarkably well.”
“Coming from you, I regard that as a supreme compliment. Douglas is bright beyond his years. You realize the lad’s only ten. He’s displayed quite an interest in journalism. Under my tutelage, he may well end up occupying the editor’s chair one day.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Campbell tapped a pen against the notes he’d been writing when she marched in. “So, what’s your announcement? Have you decided to embark on an African safari? Or do your plans involve some long-dead pharaoh’s tomb?”
“Heavens no. I’ll leave the tomb-raiding to my sister. Alex is welcome to the sand and the heat. I’m staying right here in England.”
“And your new endeavor? You’re leaving the Herald?”
“I’m hopeful that will not be necessary. Quite frankly, my position here will facilitate our new adventure.”
Campbell’s tapping hastened to a brisk staccato. “Do you care to enlighten me?”
She gave Douglas a gentle nudge. “Mr. Campbell and I require a spot of privacy. Please take the book and wait for me in Miss Beddingham’s office. She might even offer you a sweet, if you’re very polite.”
Douglas grinned. He shot Campbell a glance. “I’ll be bringin’ yer book back. No worries on that, sir.”
Campbell nodded. “I’m entirely confident you’ll treat it well.”
Douglas closed the door behind him with a child’s exuberant thud. Campbell turned to Jennie. “You certainly know how to build suspense.”
“You’re aware of Matthew’s work with the Home Secretary.”
“Of course.”
“We’ve been offered a most intriguing proposition. An opportunity to go into the queen’s service while maintaining our full autonomy.”
“What sort of service?”
“The Home Secretary has proposed we implement our own investigative service, tapping into Matthew’s incisive skill at deduction and my expertise at implementing, shall we say, inquiries. We will draw together those who have similar…talents.”
“And how do you propose to organize this endeavor?”
“The public will see us as a detective service. The Home Secretary saw to it that Matthew was publicly vindicated in Inspector Crosby’s death, but there are still those who see him as a man with criminal ties. That may well work to our advantage. Under this guise, our investigations will delve into matters of interest to the Home Secretary, to the Crown itself. Those close to Her Majesty’s intelligence forces will know our true purpose. We’d like you to become part of this enterprise.”
“I am intrigued. You’ll understand if I take time to consider the proposition.”
So like Campbell to proceed cautiously. Such a daring man when circumstances called for it, but always one to enter into an endeavor with a well-thought-out plan.
“Of course.” She reached over the desk and pressed a calling card into his large hand.
“The Colton Agency? I must say I’d expected something a bit more original.”
“A bit dull, I agree, but as you can understand, discretion is of the utmost consequence in our investigations. The public cannot know the true nature of our enterprise. You see, the Home Secretary has appointed Matthew to head a new agency tied to the Home Office—Her Majesty’s Most Secret Service.”
Epilogue
Cloistered within the carriage conveying them to their town house after an evening’s excursion to the theater, Matthew drew his bride close. Jennie rested her head against his shoulder, jolting against him as Bertram drove the carriage at his typical breakneck pace.
They couldn’t get home fast enough to suit Matthew. At times like these, when happiness breached the shell he’d erected so many years ago, he wanted Jennie in his arms.
His wife. His lover. The woman he adored.
She was his now. And forever.
Jennie’s eccentric, loving brood had taken to him, every last one, welcoming him as the newest member of their family. He’d felt the warmth in her father’s firm handshake as he gave his blessing to their union and witnessed her mother’s joy when Jennie became his bride one snowy evening, nine weeks after she had quite literally fallen into his arms.
The children they’d brought into their home, their lives, and their hearts, brightened each day. Douglas was rapidly developing his quick, vibrant wit and had acquired a voracious appetite for the written word, while Sally had blossomed into a bright-eyed, mischievous imp of a girl who emulated Jennie’s every move.
Jennie had brought love and happiness and an unflagging sense of courage to his life. His bride’s touch and smile brought him pleasure, joy he’d long believed he would never deserve. When she looked at him, love lit her sparkling emerald eyes. And her laughter—ah, the sweet sound warmed his heart.
Christ, he wanted to get her alone. She’d be fortunate to make it through the bedroom door before he tore her clothes from her luscious body.
He dipped his head, cupped her chin and kissed her. “I love you, Jennie Colton. Once I get you behind closed doors, I’m going to show you exactly how much.”
“Promise?” The single word held a hopeful lilt.
He kissed her again. Hungrily. Thoroughly. Until her cheeks were flushed and her eyes went as wide as the first time he’d claimed her lips.
“Perhaps I’ll run you a bath. I may need to thoroughly convince you.”
“Most wicked. And utterly tempting.” Her eyes flashed a blend of desire and mischief. “I’ve decided I do need convincing. I trust your arguments will be most persuasive.”
Framing her face in his hands, he savored the taste of her lips. The finest delicacy could not compare. Blood surged to his groin. It would be a miracle if they made it to their bed before he stripped her bare.
“So that’s how it is. You require me to be wicked.”
The love in her eyes melded with the heat of desire. Her sweet lips curved, luring him like a siren’s song. “Extremely wicked, darling. Tonight, and every night.”
Don’t miss Tara Kingston’s next book!
Click here for more exciting books from Entangled Publishing.
Acknowledgments
First, I’d like to express my admiration for pioneering female journalists like Nellie Bly and Ida Tarbell. Years before women had the right to vote, their crusading spirit, intelligence, and guts paved the way for women in investigative journalism. Their work is an enduring inspiration.
Thank you to my wonderful husband, Greg. Your support, encouragement, and willingness to pick up a pizza when I’m in my writing cave mean the world to me.
>
Heartfelt thanks to authors Barbara Bettis, Tracey Devlyn, Eliza Knight, Ashlyn Macnamara, Lane McFarland, Renee Ann Miller, Averil Reisman, Kathleen Bittner Roth, and Tess St. John for your perceptive feedback and encouragement through the years. I truly value your keen insights, dedication to the craft of writing, and friendship.
A special, hug-filled thank you to author Kathleen Bittner Roth. Your honesty, encouragement, friendship, and wisdom have been true blessings in my life.
Thanks and appreciation to my wonderful editor, Erin Molta. Your terrific insights and suggestions have helped me bring Jennie and Matthew to their happily-ever-after.
To the Entangled staff and fellow Entangled authors, thank you for the warm welcome I have received. Much appreciated!
And last, but certainly not least, a very special thank you to my readers. I’d love to hear from you. You can contact me on Facebook, Twitter, or through my website at www.tarakingston.com.
About the Author
Award-winning author Tara Kingston writes historical romance laced with intrigue, danger, and adventures of the heart. A Southern-belle-out-of-water in a quaint Pennsylvania town, she lives her own love story with her real-life hero in a cozy Victorian. The mother of two sons, Tara’s a former librarian whose love of books is evident in her popping-at-the-seams bookcases. It goes without saying that Tara’s husband is thankful for the invention of digital books, thereby eliminating the need for yet another set of shelves. When she’s not writing, reading, or burning dinner, Tara enjoys cycling, hiking, and cheering on her favorite football team.
Connect with Tara on her website, Facebook, and Twitter.
Sign up for our Steals & Deals newsletter.
Discover more historical romance…
A False Proposal
by Pamela Mingle
War hero Adam Grey returns home and plans to run for Parliament. But he needs the support of the local baronet, who controls the seat. He learns that his dissolute father has promised him to the baronet’s daughter in return for forgiveness of his debts. Adam wants nothing to do with marriage or his father’s problems, so he fakes an engagement to Cass Linford—his best friend’s sister.
When a Lady Deceives (Her Majesty’s Most Secret Service) Page 31