Chills Page 23

  Jack’s arm tightened into a possessive squeeze and then he relaxed. “Have you not learned a new excuse yet, love? That has been your reply for any misadventure for the past few years,” he cautioned. “It’s time to find a new one.”

  His breath tickled the back of her neck and she struggled to maintain some decorum. “Well, I've always thought the old excuses were the best. It is important to have your own traditions.”

  “Speaking of old, you frightened me out of ten years of my life today. A decade I could not afford to lose since I am almost a relic to begin with.”

  Constance frowned, surprised by Jack’s attitude to his age. She hadn’t thought he would pay attention to her hasty words. Privately, she thought he was the perfect age—old enough to understand the world, but young enough to still laugh at it. Except he hadn’t done a great deal of laughing lately. His situation with Virginia has sobered him quite a bit.

  “You’re not old, Jack. You may be eight years my senior, but you're a long way from needing spectacles and a nursemaid to bring you gruel for every meal.” She laughed at a sudden thought. “And besides, a sword cane is hardly an affectation of an old man. Have you had a great need of it in Town?”

  “Husband-hunting debutantes,” Jack admitted sadly, but amusement laced his tone. “You can never be too careful with your virtue.”

  A great pity Jack hadn’t taken it to the Malvey masquerade. “At least you don’t have to use your fists too often these days.”

  “I know you feared I was becoming too much of a hot head, but believe me, I find very little reason to thrash my fellow man,” Jack promised. “Except perhaps where you are concerned.”

  Constance turned. Jack looked rather guilty. That was a very odd confession. She had been very ready to wash her hands of him four years ago. Virginia’s long lettered protests had persuaded her that, while not cruelly intended, Cullen had provoked Jack with his over-familiarity. But all of that discussion had taken place within private letters.

  Constance gulped. “Has Virginia shown you my letters?”

  “Not exactly.”

  She had written very harshly of Jack and wished to slide from the saddle and disappear.

  “I am very glad I wrote nothing shockingly private in them.” Another lie. She had poured out her hurt in those letters, strongly protesting against Jack's high-handed ways. Neither Cullen nor Jack had fully explained what had started their confrontation.

  “I am sorry. I did not mean to pry. I was concerned about how you were getting on up there. I took my role as your guardian very seriously, despite your mother’s protests.”

  Constance faced forward again as she considered those letters carefully. A small thing had been puzzling her for years and she meant to find out now. “Did Virginia develop an interest in farming and agriculture in the last year or have you been dictating to her?”

  Jack’s lengthy silence behind her back unnerved her. Now that she thought about it, the tone of the letters had changed too. She had thought that marriage might have accounted for the formality, but a shocking idea was forming, and it had some merit. “Have I been corresponding with Virginia at all?”

  Gentlemen did not write to unmarried women unless they had an understanding. Jack had one, just not with her.

  “Yes, of course. I mean, no, not precisely. Sometimes.” Jack's chest swelled behind her and his hand fidgeted at her waist. “When Virginia’s situation changed after marriage, I kept up all her correspondence, including yours. I regret not informing you of Virginia's true circumstances, but I could not put her situation in a letter. Given your mother’s habit of gossiping I couldn’t risk my sister’s reputation. If you require one, I most humbly beg your pardon. I would not have you unhappy.”

  That was quite a confession. Jack had been writing her letters for years and she had not been able to tell the twins’ handwriting apart. Although she couldn’t know for certain which letters he’d penned, they’d all contained words of deep affection, and had all but begged her to come to London too.

  Constance blushed. “I looked forward to receiving those letters, Jack. And, yes, I did need the help and guidance you sent. Thank you for thinking of me.”

  Jack’s sigh rattled through his chest. “I shall have to admit now to impatience at receiving yours. You are a very tardy correspondent, Pixie.”

  “Virginia would have forgiven me.”

  “My dear sister will forgive you anything. But I have to tell you, the lengthy delays between letters made me worry.”

  The gloved hand at her waist tightened and she hesitantly covered his hand with hers. “Did you send me perfume for my birthday and at Christmas, too?”

  Jack drew in a large breath and slowly let it out. “Another impertinence, but I love the scent on you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “MISS GRANCE.” CULLEN Brampton’s anguished voice cut through the pleasurable daze in which Constance rode, and she looked down to the pavement. There, waiting on the front steps of Ettington House, stood her former betrothed.

  The marquess’ butler, in the act of closing the door, froze in shock and this time his expression was clear. He did not care for Cullen, and that puzzled her. Everyone liked Cullen. Well, everyone except Jack.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Brampton. When did you arrive in Town?” Constance called and then instantly regretted her familiarity. This was London, not Sunderland. She should not embarrass Jack by behaving as a hoyden in public.

  “Just this morning. Here, let me get you down.”

  Lucarno danced away from Cullen’s approach, forcing Jack to work to calm him. After her scare this morning, Constance’s heart was very quick to race again. But she found herself just as soothed by the marquess’ whispered words across her neck as the horse was. By the time Lucarno was steady again, Constance was sure that her own dazed reaction to Jack was visible to all around.

  “Step back, Mr. Brampton,” Jack ordered as a groom ran to his horses head. “Your kind of assistance is not required.”

  Jack passed Constance her hat and swung off, but immediately turned to wrap his hands around her waist. She floated from the saddle to settle at his feet, but could not miss how irritated Jack was to see Cullen. Gripping his forearms, Constance whispered her thanks.

  Cullen quickly moved to her side.

  “It is good to see you, sir,” Constance told him as she fiddled with her sadly squashed hat.

  “And it is very good to see you. Be happy, I have come to take you home.”

  Constance’s head snapped up and she stared at him in confusion. “Home?”

  Cullen passed a thick letter over and held out his arm to her. When she didn’t take either, he frowned. “Your mother sends for you. She rightly feels you have dallied in London for long enough. I have my carriage ready and waiting to depart within the hour. After this exhibition, we had better return today.”

  Why would he speak to her as if she was his possession? Did he not receive her letter?

  Virginia and Hallam drew up beside them and Virginia gasped. They dismounted and Virginia hurried to take Constance’s arm, tugging her toward the house. Their public discussion had drawn a crowd. “Mr. Brampton, I am sure you will agree that a more private venue is required,” Virginia called.

  “After you, Brampton,” Jack muttered.

  Jack’s indifferent response seemed to needle Cullen. He swiftly moved to take Constance’s other arm to escort her up the stairs. Strung out between her friends, all of Constance’s nerves bristled. She jumped when the front door thumped closed behind them.

  “I am not ready to return to Thistlemore, Cullen. I am sorry that my mother sent you on a fool’s errand.” Constance smiled at the butler and passed over her sadly dented hat.

  The look in Parkes’ eyes showed the concern he could not speak aloud in front of so many witnesses. She didn’t know what to make of his distress, but perhaps she should pay attention to Cullen’s words as well as his actions.

  Virgini
a led the way into the drawing room.

  Cullen caught up her arm and directed her to a lounge, then took the space beside her. “The only foolish thing was coming to Town in the first place. You should be at home awaiting our marriage.”

  Virginia gasped. Clearly, Jack hadn’t told her about the betrothal either.

  “I will make my own way home when I desire to go, sir. But I must ask. Did you not get my letter?”

  “I’ve received no letter.”

  Jack appeared positively gleeful, but Virginia grasped his arm and tugged him toward a window. Hallam, however, stayed exactly where he was.

  How to say to his face what needed to be said?

  “I, ah, have some unsettling news to discuss.”

  Cullen took her hand and squeezed.

  Hallam growled, settling into a chair opposite. “Mind your manners, pup. Miss Grange needn’t be pawed at.”

  Constance clenched her hands together in her lap.

  Cullen blanched. “Constance, what is the meaning of this sudden formality? Surely, given our betrothal, we needn’t be so formal.”

  Constance winced. “I am very much afraid that I must decline your offer of marriage. The circumstances that I felt sure of when I originally accepted your hand no longer hold true. I cannot, in good conscience, marry you.”

  Cullen gaped at her. “But what about Thistlemore?”

  “Thistlemore will survive, perhaps with a different vision for its future than you had planned.” Constance peeked at Jack across the room and he nodded his head firmly. He would keep her home. He would keep his word never to kick them out, too.

  “And you couldn’t tell me this earlier?”

  “I apologize, sir.”

  Hallam cleared his throat. “Now, I believe it’s time for Mr. Brampton to take his leave. The subject is closed for discussion.”

  Cullen scowled. “I am still charged to take Constance home, but I have my doubts that she could be ready today anyway. We can leave first thing tomorrow. Go and pack.”

  Constance bristled. “I cannot travel alone with you, and you well know it. I will make my own way home.”

  Traveling alone with him in a carriage for that length of time would ruin her reputation. Of course, given all the kissing she’d practiced on Jack, her reputation was already a little worse for wear.

  Cullen looked like he wanted to argue again, but Jack took her declaration as an opportunity to throw his oar in. “Miss Grange has had an eventful morning, Mr. Brampton.” Jack’s smile never faltered as he turned. “Parkes, be so good as to see Miss Grange’s guest to his hat.”

  Cullen glared.

  “I do thank you for calling on me. Please give my regards to your mother when you see her.”

  Cullen didn’t look happy, but he did take his leave. Constance remained silent until Virginia prompted her to look at her letter.

  Instead, she turned to glare at Jack. “Did I ask you for your assistance?”

  “No,” Jack grumbled.

  “Your behavior almost cost me my friend once before. Did I ask for your involvement today? I would like to remain on good terms with both Cullen and his family.”

  “What a shame it was only an almost,” Jack muttered, settling into a chair. “I thought the idiot would have learned his lesson last time.”

  “You mean when you thrashed him for no good reason?”

  “Oh, I had a reason for the pleasure, believe me,” Jack argued, surging out of his chair to pace to the front windows.

  “I doubt that.”

  Jack growled. “Pixie, you were halfway up an apple tree. The little sneak was looking directly up your skirts.”

  “He did no such thing,” Constance protested.

  “Of course he did—why do you think I thrashed him? Do you truly believe I would waste my energy on that worthless excuse of masculinity? I told him to stay away from you. I warned him what I would do if he behaved without honor toward you again. I had caught him hanging from the side of your house the night before, peeking into your bedroom window. Did you wonder why I ordered the rose vine removed? It wasn’t damaging the house.”

  That silenced her. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Miss Constance Maria Grange,” Jack said with deadly earnest. “You really shouldn’t climb trees without first adding drawers to your undergarments. He was standing directly beneath you with a rapt expression plastered all over his scabby face. He didn’t believe my threats. And as your guardian, it was my job to protect you from your own lack of foresight. Looking after you seems to be my lot in life.”

  In the silence, the only thing she heard was the ringing of Jack’s departing boots. Constance could not make herself look up. Her face was flaming so hot she feared she would blind everyone. Another set of boots departed and a swirl of muslin overlapped her knees as Virginia hugged her.

  ~ * ~

  Jack tossed the last of his drink back and let the masculine peace of his club calm him. He was so stupid. Pixie hadn’t known about Cullen’s spying. God knew what Cullen had been up to in Jack’s absence. Jack had always disliked Cullen Brampton, but since Pixie’s parents had included Lord Clerkenwell as part of their circle, Jack had suffered his presence when his family had visited. Given Brampton was Clerkenwell’s heir, the man seemed attached to the little rat.

  Catching Brampton spying on Pixie, however, had added completely new levels to his dislike. No gentleman behaved that way. The image of Pixie married to that scar-faced scoundrel set his guts to churning. Jack was marrying Pixie, whether she realized it or not. And then he’d see if Brampton’s interest in friendship remained. He doubted it. But he still had to convince Pixie.

  The chairs on either side of him creaked, and a pair of glossy boots and another set of knees impinged on his vision. Jack raised his head.

  Lord Daventry watched him, eyes alight with amusement, but Lord Hallam appeared deadly serious. Jack seized a whiskey glass from a passing waiter, and tossed it back.

  Daventry raised a brow. “Why the devil aren’t you married yet?”

  Since his friend rarely meddled in other people’s affairs, Jack was surprised by his question. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  Daventry glanced about them, and then sat forward. “Well, I will tell you what I see. I see two friends making each other miserable. What do you think you’re doing? You had her at the Malvey ball, didn’t you?”

  “I did not attend that one.” A few men moving in their direction. Jack scowled and they thought twice about joining them.

  “Don’t talk rubbish,” Daventry grumbled. “I recognized you both. I do walk around London with my eyes open. You had her, man.”

  “She does not want me, Daventry. She has a list of potential suitors,” Jack admitted.

  “A list? I hope that slimy toad on your doorstep a short while ago isn’t on it. I thought Parkes was going to shoot him when he wouldn’t go away.” Daventry sighed. “Her eyes follow you, Jack. One day someone will see it and make a joke about it. She will be so mortified, she’ll return to Sunderland and you’ll lose the chance.”

  “Daventry, you really should shut up.”

  A look of disapproval crossed Daventry’s face. “Are you going to make her your mistress?”

  Before he could prevent it, Jack had curled his hand into a fist.

  Daventry noticed and laughed. “I thought not.” He smacked Jack’s shoulder, making heads turn toward the sound. “Offer for her. Quickly. My nerves cannot stand the suspense.”

  But what if she refused?

  Jack glanced at their silent companion. Hallam grimly held another glass. He looked uncomfortable. He wanted something, and Jack knew Hallam hated asking favors. “What is the matter, Hallam?”

  “I had a letter from my mother’s companion this morning. Mother’s eyesight has failed completely.”

  “Damn,” both Jack and Daventry muttered. Lady Hallam was a decent woman; neither of them wanted this for her.

  “I have
to return to Parkwood. She should not be managing the estate on her own. My bags are being packed, and I will leave this afternoon.”

  “I’m sorry, Hallam,” Jack said. “Have you told Virginia?”

  “No, not yet. I will tell her this afternoon. How long will you be staying in Town?”

  “We will be home as soon as I can arrange it,” Jack offered. He would not rush his courtship of Pixie just so Virginia could be free of her chaperoning duties.

  ~ * ~

  “What are you doing in here?” Constance asked as a maid rammed Jack’s appointment book back into the shelf and spun about.

  If Jack had not specifically mentioned where he kept it, she might have ignored the maid’s activities. The girl looked ready to burst from her skin.

  “I was just practicing my reading, miss. I did not mean to neglect my duties. If you will excuse me, I had best get back.” The maid curtsied and made to leave, but Constance was having none of that. She kicked the door closed with her foot. The little maid yelped.

  “I don’t believe I dismissed you.” Constance leaned against the door. “That wasn’t just any book. How long have you been spying on the marquess?”

  The maid gasped and drew back in horror.

  Constance tipped her head to the side as she inspected the maid. She appeared no richer for her activities. “I had wondered how Miss Scaling always knew what entertainment the marquess and his sister were attending. You have been telling.”

  Constance waited out the silence until it stretched to the breaking point.

  “Please, miss, don’t tell the marquess. He will dismiss me for sure,” the maid pleaded.

  “Lord Ettington would be well within his rights to dismiss you,” Constance agreed. “He values loyalty above all else.”

  “I know, but I had no choice. My parents and my brother work for them. They would have tossed my family out with nothing if I hadn’t done as they demanded. Mrs. Scaling is a demon in disguise.”