Chills

by Heather Boyd

  When Pixie bowed her head, Jack raised his hand to where his skin still tingled. Her head snapped up, eyes widening with shock.

  She stumbled into a chair and dropped her head to her hands. “They never said a word to me. How could they not tell me this?”

  He didn’t have an answer. All he could do was help her make the best of a bad situation. She must be as deeply shocked by the news as he had been.

  Jack grabbed up the bottle of whiskey and poured her a small amount. The amber liquid swirled around the bottom of the glass as he stepped toward her. He dropped to his haunches, offering the glass.

  She stared at his hand but took the drink. When she tipped the contents down her throat too quickly, she spluttered, and he pounded on her back until she stopped. He let his hand rest on Pixie’s shoulder, sure she was still very much affected.

  She spun out of the chair and away from him. “I want to see proof that you are not lying to me.”

  Jack sighed. “Of course. You shall have it directly.”

  ~ * ~

  A thick wad of parchment burrowed its way beneath Constance’s door and wiggled at her in greeting. She slipped off the chaise and crossed to the documents, afraid they could savage her.

  Yet when she had them safely in her hands, she hesitated to open them.

  These would either prove the marquess a liar, or condemn her to debtor’s prison.

  The parchment crackled as she settled near the bracket of candles. Lifting the first sheet, she scanned the note from the marquess. He apologized, but requested the return of the documents for safekeeping on the morrow. If she desired authentication, he would make them available when she needed them.

  The marquess’ fair-mindedness unnerved her.

  The first paper was the lease agreement for the Granges to remain at Thistlemore indefinitely. She read the terms in astonishment. The marquess was not charging rent, and any income remained in their possession. Constance swallowed over his generosity and set it aside.

  The last paper was yellowed with age and handling. Inside was a promissory note from her father to the late marquess, detailing the extent of the Thistlemore estate and the furnishings contained therein. Constance swallowed over the horror at seeing her home listed, including the very bed she slept on. Her father had gambled away everything.

  Constance turned the page and read the figure this surrender of her family holdings had repaid. Seventy thousand pounds more than covered the value of the property. She didn’t believe it was worth nearly that much even now. The late marquess had been cheated. She had always thought him a wise man, but this was folly. Why had he paid so much for a property that had seen better days before her father had the management of it?

  She peered at the signatures and didn’t doubt that the old document was legitimate. Her father had lost everything. She’d been blissfully unaware for the last seven years.

  Jack had already known her true situation this morning, and still her plight hadn’t affected him to show any emotion other than anger over her engagement. She had no money. She had debts she could never pay. She had a beau expecting a nonexistent dowry.

  Constance had to deal with this mess on her own. She knew better than to suppose her mama could pull them out of this situation. After all, Mama acted as if the estate had unlimited funds. But now Constance knew the truth.

  Only Jack’s kindness had kept a roof over their heads.

  She wallowed in self pity for almost an hour, cursing her parents for not protecting her better and the late marquess for encouraging her father’s vices. Life might have been better if Papa had kept to his own level of society and not aspired to remain as the late marquess’ confidant.

  She also gave a silent thanks to Jack for not yelling at her when she slapped him. She couldn’t believe she had done that—or that he’d barely reacted. The red mark across his pale skin had been startlingly bright. It must have hurt. She should be ashamed of herself, but truly, too much had happened today for her to make sense of it all.

  But there was one thing she absolutely had to do. She had to protect Cullen from the mess she was in.

  Shadows danced across the room as she lifted the candlestick and moved to her writing desk. Although tears streamed down her cheeks, she made a passable effort on her letter. It was messy and tearstained, but Cullen Brampton must be released from the engagement. She couldn’t drag him or his family down to her level.

  Yet again, the marquess got what he’d demanded.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CONSTANCE RUSHED INTO the library of Ettington House, anxious to learn her exact situation before she and Virginia went out. She made it as far as the table before she realized the mahogany surface was bare of clutter. When she looked around, she could not spot a single paper, or the chest that should contain them. Disappointed, she retraced her steps to the marquess’ study door and knocked. There was no answer. She turned the knob but found it locked.

  “There you are, Pixie. Good morning,” Virginia sang out.

  Constance turned, caught trying to open the door to a private room she had no permission to enter. She tucked her hands behind her back. “Good morning to you, too. Have you seen your brother?”

  “If that door is locked, Jack hasn’t risen yet. Perhaps he was up late?”

  Supposing that could be true, Constance let out a deep breath and joined Virginia.

  “I’m glad Jack isn’t here this morning, because I wanted to apologize about yesterday. I was not very much help and I should have been. I’m so sorry.” Virginia’s voice wavered.

  Constance held out her hand and took Virginia’s in a tight grip. “There wasn’t very much to help with unless you like looking at ruin.”

  “Is it very bad?”

  Constance steered her friend toward the front door and the privacy afforded outside the mansion. As they gained the little park, Constance raised her face to the weak sunlight and warmth. She missed country weather—seeing the storm race toward their house, the sounds of rain lashing the windows, and the familiar scrape of branches against her bedroom wall at night. London weather consisted of rain with few glimpses of sunshine and a dirty breeze she didn’t want to welcome.

  She sighed. “It is the worst it can be. Any day I expect debt collectors to pound on the door. If Mr. Medley could approach me here demanding payment, others will too. I cannot imagine what my mother is thinking to be gambling as she is.”

  “Now that Jack is aware of your situation, he will keep you safe,” Virginia promised, her voice clear of any doubt. “He’ll know exactly how to solve your problems.”

  “That is very kind of you to offer your brother’s protection, but I doubt it will come to that.”

  “Of course he’ll look after you.”

  Puzzled, Constance stopped. “Why should he concern himself any more than he has? He is under no obligation now. He’s no longer burdened by the guardianship.”

  “While it is true he is no longer your guardian,”—Virginia cupped Constance’s cheek—“my brother is not without considerable influence. If we sponsored you for the season, other gentlemen would try to win your affections for their very own. I know you refused years ago but think of it now. With our support, you could be married before the season is over and be free of difficulties.”

  Constance couldn’t find a word to utter in response. She was already engaged to marry, at least until Cullen received her note. Given Jack’s grumbling over her choice of husband, he’d hardly be likely to help her gain another.

  “Just think, you could marry a peer and we could spend every season here in London. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Virginia continued.

  Constance held her tongue. Jack wouldn’t help her with this. He’d think it beneath him. “No. Absolutely not.”

  Virginia frowned. “I’ve never understood your aversion to marriage. Please, Pixie, let me help you find the right husband. Someone who deserves you and will cherish you for the rest of your days.”

  Constance
’s heart squeezed. Cullen had promised her the very same thing, and her letter to end their engagement had already been sent. She wiped her damp eyes. “I don’t know what to say. Who’d want to marry a penniless woman?”

  Virginia caught her hand and squeezed. “Many a man would marry you to gain just a few words in Jack’s ear. You don’t yet realize how valuable your connection to our family could be.”

  “Virginia, that’s revolting. I could never condone a marriage begun on such a circumstance. Besides, your brother considers me an annoying pest to be managed.”

  Virginia chuckled. “My dear, you have more power over my brother than you realize. Just never let him discover that you know. It is unfortunate that he’s engaged already. You could have set your cap for him. He dotes on you and we could have been sisters.”

  Constance couldn’t be more shocked by the turn of their conversation. She wasn’t fit to be a marchioness. The idea was preposterous. “Your brother is a bully. I’ll never marry without affection.”

  Virginia shook her head. “Then we will find someone to love you as we do.”

  Although Virginia’s ‘we’ included Jack, he didn’t love her at all. Constance was an annoying fly buzzing into his life too soon after he’d gained his freedom from the unwanted guardianship. She’d sensed his reluctance to help yesterday. “What if there isn’t someone for me. I had thought to marry, once, but . . ” Constance couldn’t continue. Tears threatened to fall again. She’d not make a spectacle of herself in public. “Let’s return to the house.”

  “An excellent idea. We can compile a list of suitable gentlemen.”

  Constance groaned aloud.

  “Shush, Pixie. We can make a list for you to consider as a starting point,” Virginia offered. “Is there anything that you particularly want in a husband?”

  “I've never seriously considered this before.” That was a lie, but Virginia was nowhere near as good as Jack at detecting them. Constance didn’t think he had told his sister about Cullen because, so far, Virginia hadn’t brought the subject up. If she did know something, she’d want to know everything. “I always thought I would meet someone agreeable and he would propose. I have never contemplated what might make a suitable spouse.”

  “Well, tell me what you don’t like in gentlemen.”

  “Arrogance,” Constance blurted, then shook her head as the image of the Marquess of Ettington popped into her mind to illustrate the point. She couldn’t bear to be wed to a man like him.

  “What else?” Virginia squeezed her arm to encourage her to continue.

  “Not a gambler. That is what got us in this mess in the first place,” Constance continued. “A man my mama might fear to cross. Someone who can deter her from excess.”

  Virginia nudged her shoulder. “Wouldn’t arrogance come in handy when dealing with her?”

  Constance rubbed her brow. “I suppose a little, but he shouldn’t be that way with me.”

  “We must be practical. If I was in your shoes, I would have taken to my bed and let Jack take care of everything.”

  “Virginia,” Constance chided gently. “You give yourself far too little credit. I remember a time when I was afraid to cross you. I cannot remember what precipitated the argument, but you rounded on Lord Hallam like a fury and he never knew what hit him. It’s the only time I’ve seen him speechless. I never told you, but you were magnificent. Even Lord Hallam appeared impressed.”

  “I impressed Lord Hallam? I should have liked to hear about that earlier. The man deserves a good scold for the way he neglects his responsibilities. Can you believe his mama hasn’t seen him in a year? He sends letters at the end of term but rarely leaves Oxford.”

  Constance looked up at her friend in alarm. That was quite a diatribe considering how quiet Virginia had become. Lord Hallam really would change the atmosphere of Ettington House when he arrived tomorrow.

  Virginia stopped suddenly. “You should marry Hallam.”

  Constance choked. “You cannot be serious.”

  “He would be perfect for you. He practically lives at Oxford year round, so you wouldn’t have to listen to the pompous idiot spouting his nonsensical ideas. His mother is sweet and never leaves Parkwood. You could live there and we could see each other every day.”

  As enticing as Virginia made the match sound, Pixie had never felt comfortable with Lord Hallam. He was far too serious a man to encourage more than the barest affection. Acceptance, perhaps. She accepted that he was large enough to make three of her, he could argue in circles until she had no idea what the original point had been. He made her head hurt.

  No, not a good choice.

  The happy zeal drained from Virginia’s face as if she remembered something disturbing. Constance moved to support her if needed, but Virginia smiled brightly, shrugging off whatever thoughts she might have had.

  “As much as I would love to see you every day, I doubt Lord Hallam and I would suit. He is far and away more arrogant than even your brother.”

  “Well, there is nothing else for it. We shall have to make sure you marry for money and love. Surely there is a well-positioned man somewhere you could feel more than just a passing affection for.” Virginia’s exhalation sounded a little relieved to Constance.

  “Let us hope so.” Constance prayed for that.

  “Come, I want to write that list of names. At least you can be armed with a little information before we begin our search.”

  “Virginia, I didn’t come to London to find a husband. I came to see you.”

  “And I am very happy you are here. It was good of you to spend your holiday with me.”

  “Well, I’m glad you persuaded me to come,” Constance assured her as they climbed the front steps. Constance had missed her friend so much over the past years. Her letters had left her aching for more than the stilted conversations of hurried notes. But given the marquess’ bad mood over the guardianship, she hadn’t wanted to press for a visit. She had waited and waited to be invited.

  “How did I persuade you? You’re always welcome.”

  “In your letter. Don’t you remember?”

  Virginia frowned. “My letter? Oh, of course I remember. Pixie, would you excuse me for a moment? I have forgotten something that requires my attention upstairs. I will join you in the drawing room as soon as I can.”

  When Virginia hurried off, Constance stripped off her pelisse and handed it to the waiting butler. She watched the stern retainer and amused herself by wondering what Parkes might look like if the bushy brows he sported suddenly caught fire. If the butler ever wore an expression that wasn’t entirely proper and respectful, she would probably faint.

  ~ * ~

  Jack glanced up as the door to his bedchamber banged open. “Sister, what an unexpected pleasure.”

  “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

  The startling fury in Virginia’s voice surprised him. Jack tugged the ruined cravat from his neck, and tossed it onto the dresser. “What, specifically, is it you think I did? The list could be very long.”

  Instead of chuckling, Virginia strode toward him and stopped a bare inch away. “Did you or did you not write to Pixie as if you were me.”

  “I may have. You would need a man of experience, expert in the art of detecting forgeries, to prove it though.”

  The truth was bound to come out sooner or later. But did his former ward realize he’d been corresponding with her as Virginia these last years? She wouldn’t be happy when she learned.

  Yet he couldn’t be sorry. Appearances had to be maintained. As they had aged, Jack’s handwriting had remained similar to his sister’s. All it required was a little effort on his part and the use of the correct phrases in order to make a convincing replacement.

  His sister scowled. “You deceived my best friend. How could you, Jack?”

  “Very easily. You needed her here.” Inviting Pixie to London had been one of his better ideas, if her presence could transform his sister into this hissin
g viper. God, he had missed Virginia. “Is Miss Grange aware?”

  “Oh, will you stop calling her that. I know you remember her nickname.”

  “Yes, of course I know her name, but I won’t be using it. Does she know I wrote the letters?”

  “No. And I’m certainly not going to tell her. She’d be so embarrassed to realize the truth.”

  When Virginia scowled, Jack bit back a crow of triumph. “That is for the better.” He didn’t need another reason for Pixie to be irritated with him this week. It would be better to let her ire subside before she got any other distressing news. “In case you have failed to notice, Miss Grange is not particularly pleased with me of late.”

  “She said you were arrogant.”

  Old and arrogant. The list grew daily. “She has a right to her opinions, Virginia.”

  “But you could change her mind.”

  Jack raked his fingers through his hair, suddenly uncomfortable that the subject had switched to him. “Leave matters as they are. She is your friend, and she is here for your comfort. How she feels about me is beside the point.”

  Virginia scowled but there was a look about her eyes, as if she was assessing him and his current state of happiness. He hoped she didn’t consider him for too long. He was not very good at lying to his twin especially if she questioned him point blank about why he hadn’t done his duty and married to produce an heir. He was trying very hard to avoid that subject.

  Virginia snatched up his cravat and hurled it at his head. “Don’t think I shall forgive you for this, brother. You owe me.”

  Jack caught it. “I look forward to it.”

  Virginia’s swift exit left him with a sense of relief. He almost had his sister back, and all it had taken was one visit from a very small Pixie.