Fall From Grace

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘You were the one who insisted upon moving out of my house. Had you remained, you would have been assured of my entire attention—day and night.’

  Olivia lifted one elegantly-shaped brow. ‘And give your friend Miranda further fuel for gossip?’

  ‘Don’t spoil the mood by mentioning her name. If you insist upon so doing I shall have to kiss it from lips upon which it has no place.’

  Olivia laughed and saved him the trouble by initiating a kiss herself. Jake took control and turned it into something more passionate than she had probably intended. His hands roved over the back of her silk bodice, pulling her against him until he felt the crush of her full breasts against his coat and his mind took the inevitable detour. He cursed inwardly when he recalled that this was neither the time nor the place and released her with the utmost reluctance.

  ‘The next three weeks cannot pass quickly enough,’ he said on a frustrated sigh.

  ‘I would prefer you to be frustrated for the reasons that currently apply rather than those cause by the toxic Miranda.’

  ‘Don’t underestimate her, my love. She is a woman who knows how to bear a grudge and means to make trouble for us in whatever manner she can. I shall have to see Thorndike, there’s no help for that.’

  ‘What if he isn’t willing to curb Miranda’s loose tongue?’

  ‘He will have no choice. If I am publicly accused of having a hand in my brother’s death then Thorndike’s part in covering it up will also find its way into the public domain.’

  ‘You have no proof of his involvement.’

  ‘And he has none of mine. What’s more, I shall remind him that once a rumour is started in our so-called civilized society, it quickly grows legs of its own. Thorndike has many enemies who dislike his close association with the Prime Minster and think that he wields too much influence. If such a rumour were to reach their ears, they would not hesitate to fan the flames, and Thorndike’s reputation would not recover.’

  ‘Be careful, Jake. He would make a dangerous enemy.’

  ‘We are not enemies. I know too many of his secrets for that ever to be possible.’ Jake placed a chaste kiss on Olivia’s brow and tossed her off his knee. ‘I think we could better be described as unlikely allies.’

  ‘I suppose we have given Megan and Charles enough time alone.’

  ‘Franklin ought to be back soon.’ Jake opened the door and stood back to permit Olivia to walk through it ahead of him. ‘I am anxious to learn what transpired this evening.’

  ***

  Megan was glad for an excuse to leave Charles’s company. There had been an indefinable something about him that puzzled her. He always focused his complete attention upon whoever he spoke with but tonight it seemed as though there was added intensity behind his gaze that made her aware of him as a man.

  She shook away such thoughts, more immediately concerned about Sebastian. He was probably scared. He had been through so many changes recently and it was impossible for Megan to know how deeply they had affected him. Did children of such tender years have nightmares? She shuddered at the prospect and consoled herself with the thought that he was more likely to be cutting another tooth.

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing, my lady,’ Jane said, following Megan up the stairs to the nursery floor, ‘but I thought it better to be safe.’

  ‘You did the right thing. It wouldn’t do for Sebastian to waken Tom.’

  ‘Oh, Master Tom could sleep through an earthquake. Don’t you worry yourself about him.’

  Megan smiled when she reached the children’s nursery and saw what Jane meant. Sebastian was sitting up and grizzling, but Tom was sprawled on his stomach in his own bed, sound asleep. Megan scooped Sebastian into her arms, relieved to discover that he showed no signs of having a fever. But his grumbling didn’t stop.

  ‘His gums are red,’ Megan said. ‘It must be a tooth.’

  ‘I thought as much. I’ll get a cool cloth, ma’am. That will likely help.’

  Jane scurried off, leaving Megan to walk up and down, cooing to Sebastian as she rocked him in his arms. His crying diminished but didn’t stop.

  What had just occurred between her and Charles, she wondered. It was as if they had crossed some invisible boundary that made Megan feel disloyal to Luke’s precious memory. And yet she had done nothing wrong. It would be impolite not to express her gratitude for all Charles had done for her, which was more than she had any right to expect. His behaviour remained assiduously correct. It was more what he hadn’t said, the manner in which his green eyes regarded her with such complete absorption that both confused and compelled her to the point where she was unable to look away.

  When Papa didn’t respond to her letters informing him of Luke’s death she found herself stranded in a strange place, alone with her grief and a young baby. She was not so naïve as to be unaware what fates might have befallen her had it not been for Charles appointing himself as her protector. She owed him more than she could ever hope to repay and looked upon him as a loyal and trusted friend.

  Yes, that was it. He was her friend.

  Having reached an explanation that salved her conscience, Megan returned her attention to the baby in her arms.

  ‘I will admit to you, Sebastian,’ she whispered into the baby’s downy head, ‘that I find our friend extremely attractive. Is that so very wrong of me? No one will ever replace your papa, in my heart or my mind. I don’t mean to imply that I am looking for another husband. Perish the thought! It’s just that Charles is so very suave and sophisticated, I would have to be blind not to appreciate the fine figure he cuts. What I would very much like to know though, is why he has gone to such lengths on our behalf. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?’ The baby gurgled, as though he understood the question and was attempting to answer it. Megan laughed. ‘That’s what I thought too,’ she said.

  Sebastian’s eyes fluttered shut and the grizzling stopped.

  ‘Here we are, my lady,’ Jane said, returning with the required cool cloth.

  ‘I think we would be better advised to let him sleep rather than wake him,’ Megan replied, reluctantly returning him to his warm cot. ‘If he wakes again, use the cool cloth, and call me if he doesn’t settle.’

  ‘Very good, my lady.’

  Megan kissed Sebastian’s brow, pulled the covers over him and crept from the nursery. She stopped at her own room to tidy her hair and wash her hands. Her thoughts again returned to Charles. His behaviour up until that evening had always been punctilious…faultlessly polite. An English aristocrat helping an English lady in distress. He had never given her any reason to suppose that his feelings went beyond that…until tonight. There had been an indefinable tension in the air when he spoke of her smiling, a definite light of admiration in his eye that made her wonder if his feelings ran deeper than common politeness.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she told her reflection.

  And she was being fanciful. Despite her brief marriage to an earl, she was still fundamentally a girl from the middle classes. The dowager Lady Cantrell had seen through her and made it very clear that she was unacceptable. Megan didn’t care for her own sake, but she did care for Sebastian’s and would continue to fight tooth and nail to see him accepted as Luke’s rightful heir. But should she continue involving Charles in her fight? Could she afford not to involve him? And what would the rest of society make of it when they saw one of society’s most eligible bachelors dancing attendance upon her?

  ‘Oh, botheration!’

  Why did everything have to be so complicated? Charles Hadley was a marquess’s son. A younger son, it was true, and one who was obliged to make his own way in the world. But still, if she was considered to be an unsuitable bride for an earl, what in the world would a marquess make of her?

  ‘Enough!’ she cried, dismayed at the direction her thoughts had taken.

  She would not encourage Charles, in the unlikely event that he had developed feelings for her. He could do so much better. He deserved b
etter. If her heart stuttered at the thought of another woman being the recipient of his collusive smiles and admiring looks she would just have to recover from her disappointment.

  Thus resolved, Megan left her chamber and headed for the stairs. She paused halfway down them when she heard a commotion in the entrance vestibule. Her heart beat a little faster when she heard Parker barking questions and suspected that Franklin must have returned from following Faulk to his meeting with the man who commissioned Sebastian’s abduction.

  ‘You brought the man back here? Whatever were you thinking?’ she heard Parker ask indignantly.

  Franklin answered but Megan couldn’t hear what he actually said. She peered over the banister railings and looked down onto several male heads. She recognised Charles’s and Lord Torbay’s. Then Olivia, in her swishing turquoise silk, also came into view.

  ‘Tell their lordships who you are.’

  This time she heard Franklin distinctly and watched as he pushed a bloodied and battered man forward.

  Megan gasped, feeling light-headed and wondering if her eyes were deceiving her. The beaten man couldn’t possibly be who she thought it was. But she had to know for sure. She lifted her skirts and ran the rest of the way down the stairs.

  ‘Papa?’ she asked, blinking in total astonishment as she reached the foot of them. ‘Is that you?’

  Chapter Eleven

  Megan Cantrell looked to be on the point of fainting, causing Jake to wonder how many more shocks the poor woman could withstand. Charles went to her assistance, sliding an arm around her waist and supporting her into the drawing room. He said something to her too quietly for Jake to be able to make out his words.

  ‘Megan, my dear, I‒’ her father began

  Jake cut him off with a slash of his arm through the air. ‘Since it appears that you are actually who you told my man you are, unlikely though it seemed to him,’ he said tersely, ‘with Mrs Grantley’s permission you had best come into her drawing room and explain yourself.’

  Olivia nodded her assent, clearly as angry and curious about Mardon’s appearance as Jake himself was. He offered her his arm and preceded Parker and Franklin into the room in question, Mardon limping along awkwardly between them. Megan was already seated beside the fire, looking distraught. Charles pressed a glass of brandy upon her and persuaded her to take a sip. She almost choked as she swallowed it down, but a little colour gradually returned to her wan cheeks and she seemed to recover a modicum of composure. Olivia, looking as though she would benefit from a little brandy herself, sat beside her new friend and squeezed her hand.

  ‘You poor dear,’ she said, her sympathetic tone imbued with suppressed anger. ‘This development, your father’s involvement and his being in England all along when you spent so much time worrying about him is truly shocking.’ She shot a vitriolic look in Mardon’s direction. ‘It would be enough to turn anyone’s hair white, I am absolutely sure of it.’

  ‘I am better now,’ Megan replied, rallying with commendable speed. ‘Thank you, Lord Charles,’ she added, handing the half-drunk glass of brandy back to him. ‘I have had sufficient.’

  ‘Find him a stool,’ Jake said, pointing to Mardon. ‘He doesn’t look strong enough to stand.’

  ‘He tried to fight me off,’ Franklin said, which explained Mardon’s debilitated condition.

  ‘I thought…well, I thought he was someone else,’ Mardon muttered.

  Since Franklin was dressed to blend in with the slum-dwellers and since he looked threatening even when he wasn’t trying to threaten, Jake could understand why Mardon had reached the wrong conclusion and tried to defend himself.

  ‘I see.’ Jake nodded his approval at Franklin. This sorry excuse for a father deserved all the punishment he had thus far received, and more besides. ‘Be that as it may, we don’t want his soiled clothing dirtying Mrs Grantley’s furniture.’

  Franklin left the room and returned with a wooden stool that probably lived in the kitchen as a general rule. Mardon sank onto it, wincing as he did so.

  ‘This is your opportunity to ask your father questions, Lady Cantrell,’ Jake said softly. ‘If you feel able.’

  ‘Oh, I am certainly able!’ Megan’s eyes shot daggers at her father as she turned the full force of her anger upon him. ‘You deserted me in my hour of need and then tried to kill my baby.’ Bewilderment replaced the fury in her eyes. ‘Why? What has that innocent child, your own grandson, ever done to you? What have I done that you would leave me alone and unprotected in a foreign country when I had the very greatest need of you? Am I such a disappointment to you or, despite all that has happened, do you still bear a grudge against me for going against your wishes?’

  ‘Megan, my dear, if we could just have a moment alone I will attempt to explain‒’

  She put up her chin. ‘Whatever you have to say to me, whatever justification you imagine you had for your despicable actions, you can tell me in front of my friends. Unlike you,’ she added contemptuously, ‘I can trust them absolutely.’

  Mardon shook his head, looking close to tears. When he attempted to speak, no words emerged.

  ‘Fetch him some water,’ Jake said impatiently.

  Mardon drank the entire glass that was handed to him in two gulps, watched by everyone in the room. Distracted by their individual thoughts, no one spoke or made any attempt to break the terse silence.

  ‘There is so much I didn’t wish you to know, my dear,’ Mardon said. ‘It should not have been necessary for you to know, if only you had‒’

  ‘Ah, so this is all my fault.’ Megan tossed her head. ‘Excuse me. I mistakenly thought that I was blameless in this matter.’

  ‘You would not be guided by me.’ Mardon actually appeared to be on the point of losing his patience with the daughter he had wilfully manipulated and then deceived. Jake recognised his reaction as an instinctive attempt to defend the indefensible but even he was shocked by it. ‘You are as stubborn as your mother was.’

  ‘I shall take that as a compliment.’

  Tabitha stalked into the room as tensions peaked and jumped, not onto Olivia’s lap, but Megan’s. She stroked the cat’s smooth back, but the hand doing the stroking trembled as she fought against tears and two high spots of colour appeared on her otherwise chalk-white face. Jake knew all about parents who took no interest in their children and looked upon them as an inconvenience. But this example of parental interference was new to him, causing him to wonder if being ignored was preferable to adoring a father who treated his only child in the same manner as the spices he traded in. She was a commodity that would turn a profit and seal his fortune…or would have been, if she’d had the goodness to fall in with his plans for her, the precise nature of which had yet to be revealed.

  ‘When did you return to England?’ Megan asked curtly. ‘And, more to the point, why?’

  ‘I returned just after your marriage. I heard that it had taken place and realised then that you really didn’t mean to do as I had asked you to.’

  ‘Why were you so adamantly opposed to your daughter making such an advantageous marriage?’ Jake asked.

  Mardon flapped a badly swollen hand, displaying bloodied knuckles. Jake was certain he hadn’t landed any blows upon Franklin, who sported no obvious injuries, and wondered how he had damaged his hand. ‘I knew she wouldn’t be accepted by the Cantrells and that they would make her life intolerable. Young Cantrell had his head in the clouds and never stopped to consider the indignities she would have to endure in a world she didn’t belong in.’

  Jake found himself reluctantly agreeing with Mardon’s opinion of Luke’s behaviour. He couldn’t fault Luke for marrying the woman he had clearly loved, merely the cavalier fashion in which he had gone about it. It was typical of Luke to simply assume that his pretentious family would accept his choice of a wife when he must have known in his heart of hearts that they never would.

  ‘How could you possibly know that?’ Charles asked indignantly.

  ‘I am
acquainted with one or two of them.’

  ‘You are?’ Lady Cantrell and Olivia cried simultaneously, both looking equally shocked.

  ‘I will come to that directly.’ Mardon rubbed his scraped jaw and waggled it about as though concerned that lasting damage had been done to it. Dried blood adhered to a cut and a bruise was already forming there. Jake imagined it must hurt like the devil but could find no pity for Mardon’s plight. ‘But regardless of that particular family’s habit of looking down upon us lesser mortals, I was aware that most of the aristocracy holds similar views.’ He paused, glancing at Jake. ‘With a few notable exceptions. Be that as it may, regardless of my daughter’s imagined feelings for‒’

  ‘Imagined!’ Megan cried hotly.

  ‘I know how firmly the aristocracy closes its ranks against outsiders. I have seen evidence of it on more than one occasion. Even if your husband’s family could be persuaded to accept you, my dear, the rest of the elite would not, and your husband would have been forced to choose between you and the life that came as second nature to him. Your husband’s imaginary love for you would have waned…the blighter had a reputation for taking up with women from the lower classes and supposing himself to be in love. I confess I was surprised when he actually wanted to marry you after…’

  ‘I say!’ Charles loomed over Mardon’s stool. ‘Have a care.’

  ‘All I’m saying is that he must have had some feelings for you, but he would have discovered his mistake and gone back to his own type, leaving you to rusticate in the country where you would have been looked down upon by his family and servants alike.’

  ‘That was my decision to make, Papa.’ Tears shone on Megan’s lashes and trickled down her pale cheeks. ‘Has it occurred to you that I was well aware of the obstacles I would face upon our return to England and that I didn’t mind because Luke and I were so passionately in love?’