by Anna Small
Her butler appeared in the doorway and announced Jonathan’s arrival. Almost giddy with relief for a familiar face, she met him in the doorway before he removed his hat. One look at his scowl made her heart stop.
“Are Sophie and the baby well? You do not bring bad news, I hope?”
Jonathan paced the floor while a servant brought in the teacart. “All is well at my house. I wish I could say the same here.”
Georgiana felt a sudden urge to rub her throat. “What do you mean?”
“How did five thousand pounds vanish from your account?”
Had he shouted, the words could not have echoed more loudly in her ears. She had to force herself to remain upright rather than cower in the presence of his barely controlled rage.
“I haven’t the slightest idea.” She fought the icy flow of panic rising within her. “There must be a mistake. Banks make mistakes all the time.” Jack had sworn off gambling, but even if he had returned to his old ways, it was not like him to take her money when he never had before.
“The Bank of England does not make mistakes.” He leveled his gaze. “Where is Jack?”
“Jack?” She gripped the back of a chair to stop the room from spinning.
He snorted. “Yes, Jack. My best friend who is now your husband. The man who beguiled you and stole your innocence.”
Her anger rose to his level. “He has stolen nothing. He wouldn’t take the money, Jonathan. He and I…” Now would come the explanation that sounded so preposterous when she spoke it aloud.
“He and you what?”
“We…I…there’s an agreement between us.” If a blush could burn her skin and leave a mark, she feared a blotch on her face would appear any moment.
“An agreement.”
She took his hand and kissed it. His fingers were stiff. “Please, dear brother, do not worry. He assured me he would never touch my money. He receives money from his grandfather. He promised to give up gambling and…” She chewed her lip. Perhaps it would be best if she didn’t mention his former paramours. Her chest rose with a shaky breath. “If Jack did take the money, I’m sure it was for a good reason.”
“He was seen last night in a rather unsavory gambling hell, as well as associating with the sort of people you’d rather know nothing about.” She must have paled, because his face softened. He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “When do you expect him home?”
Unable to admit she hadn’t heard from him, she turned her attention to the pot of tea, pouring two cups with a trembling hand. “He should be home shortly.”
“I inquired of your butler, and he told me Jack hasn’t been here in nearly three days.”
She turned on him, though it was more from her own self-loathing than anger toward him. “That was not your place to do so! I am not a child, Jonathan, and you are no longer my guardian.”
“Fine.” He strode to the door and paused in the entry. “However, you are still my sister, and apparently, I am your only protector. I will make some inquiries. If Jack is up to no good, he will answer for it.”
She clasped her hands, but they continued to tremble. A shiver began in her shoulders and coursed through her, rattling her bones. A look she had never seen before in her brother’s eyes filled her with dread. She swallowed to moisten her tight throat.
“What are you going to do, Jonathan? Call him out?”
“For my sister’s honor and that of her unborn child, yes.” He stormed out of the room before she could beg him to change his mind.
****
Someone had stuffed cotton in his mouth. Try as he might to spit it out, it remained there. Sitting up in bed, Jack glanced around his room, trying to remember how he’d gotten home the night before.
A cool hand stroked his brow, and he blinked to clear the lingering traces of fog in his head.
“Look who’s alive! My, but you gave me a scare, Jack.”
“Sarah?” In a flash, he remembered seeing her at the Haymarket. Had they gone to supper afterwards? He fumbled beneath the coverlet and discovered to his relief he was still fully clothed. “What are you doing here?”
“I came by this morning to reassure myself you were still alive. I’ve never known you to drink until you couldn’t stand.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, almost prim in her posture. If he hadn’t known she was the scandalous lady of the stage with not two, but three lovers in the House of Lords and a rumored husband no one had ever seen, he would have thought her a charitable society dame come to look in on a degenerate.
Slowly and painfully, the events from the past few days came back to him. Requesting Mitford’s fee from the bank. Sitting at the first open table he found at the Cocoa Tree in order to win it back. Losing all he had with new debts to boot. Unable to return to Georgiana, he stumbled into the theatre as if a past memory had urged him. He must have gone to Sarah’s dressing room afterwards and vaguely remembered sharing a coach with her, but there his memory ended.
He kicked his legs over the side of the bed. “I must get up. What time is it?”
“Almost noon. Are you certain you’re not ill? Shall I summon a doctor?”
He brushed her hand away, following with a smile so as not to hurt her feelings. “I do not need a doctor. Thank you for coming. I shall be all right.”
“I can make you something to eat. I have not forgotten my domestic skills.”
He regarded her silk gown with matching pelisse and fur-trimmed collar. Diamond ear-bobs gleamed beneath her shining black hair. “You’ve done well for yourself, Sarah. You’re a rich, successful woman. I hardly recognize the skinny chit on the stage, pouring out her heart for a few guineas a night.”
She toyed with the satin trim on the coverlet. “It’s been a long time in coming, Jack. Tell me…” Her dark blue eyes gazed into his. “Do you need any assistance? I heard you lost at Lord Wrothingham’s table last night. I can make a loan to you.”
He winced at the sudden pounding in his head. “I do not need any money, least of all, yours.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you. As an old friend…”
He leaned on his dressing table and stared at his haggard face. His eyes were bloodshot and heavy-lidded, and a mysterious bruise stained his jaw. “As my friend, Sarah, I beg you to stop worrying. All is well.”
“I have a right to worry about you. If you are in any trouble…” She pressed her hand to her heart. “You are in trouble, aren’t you?”
“Sarah, it’s good of you to stop by, but I do not need your help. I don’t need anybody’s help. I’ll figure this out for myself.”
She rose from the bed and walked to the door. “Do you know what your problem is?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“You refuse to let anyone in, Jack. So many people care about you, yet you can turn your back on them in an instant.” She snapped her fingers. “I know you are a caring, wonderful man, and yet…”
“You shared my bed years ago, Sarah. Forgive me, but that does not make you an authority on my life.” His words hung heavily in the air. He regretted them the moment he spoke, but could not take them back.
She stared at him, giving him the same look he recognized from her performance as Lady Macbeth. “I know you better than you do. Tell me, Jack: is it blackmail or an error in enterprise to blame for your downfall?”
“Why must it be either?”
“Because you and I move in the same low circles, my dear. I was dining out before the play last night and overheard a man boast how he’d taken down his most hated enemy. Can you guess who this was?”
He heaved a sigh. “I have many enemies. One cannot seduce married women or clean out a gaming table without garnering a few enemies.”
But she wouldn’t be swayed. Were it not for the way she worried the doorknob between her fingers he’d have thought her as calm as a parson.
“It was Edward.”
He did not respond. After a few moments of silence, she nodded briefly. “I�
�m going to send for tea, and then I’ll let myself out.”
She left him gazing at his reflection, though he no longer saw his face. Georgiana’s trusting eyes were all he could see. He dropped his head, too wracked with shame to think on her. How would he ever face her again? How could he ask her forgiveness? He’d betrayed her as Lockewood predicted he would. Worse, he’d done the very thing he’d sworn never to do. The same thing Mitford had done.
Taken her trust and cast it aside.
“Jack?”
He knuckled his eyes fiercely in the hopes when he was finished he would recognize the man in the mirror. “I’ll be right there, Sarah. Give me a minute.”
There was a pause. “I’m not Sarah.”
He turned slowly to face his wife.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Georgiana struggled to see through the cold mist that threatened to suffocate her. The man before her could not be Jack, his face bruised, his linen rumpled. She’d been shocked when Mrs. Leister wordlessly showed her into the parlor. At first, she thought she had the wrong address, but the woman’s nod of recognition assured her she was in the right place.
Despite his promise to give up his vices, it was obviously another lie in an apparent string of them. If Jonathan had not discovered the truth, how long would she have remained in the dark? Until all her money had vanished, presumably gone toward gambling and other women?
“Good day, Mrs. Waverley,” Mrs. Leister said, as politely as if they had met at a garden party. “I’ll be leaving, then.” She stepped past Georgiana and went downstairs without looking back.
Jack stared at Georgiana. She hardly recognized him with his bruised jaw and dark patches beneath his eyes, whether from fighting or lack of sleep, she couldn’t tell. His hair hung about his face in lank strands. But it was his eyes that made her wonder if she were really looking at the man to whom she’d so recently committed her heart. Dark and red-rimmed, they looked nothing like Jack’s eyes.
“Would you care for a drink?” His voice cracked.
She gripped the edges of her skirt so tightly her hands were numb. “No.”
“That was…”
“I know who she is. Jonathan introduced us at the masque.”
He stared at her in silence for a few seconds. “You didn’t tell me that before.”
“I didn’t think it important. At the time.” She was inanely proud of herself for her steady voice and dry eyes. “I am here about an entirely different matter.”
He poured himself a glass of brandy and drained it in one gulp. He didn’t even bother to offer further explanation of his sorry state or his absence from her home. A small part of her felt she no longer cared.
“What is it then?”
“Five thousand pounds.”
He set the glass on the table and gripped the edges, his shoulders hunched over. “Let me guess—your brother poked his nose into your business.”
She refused to let her temper control her. “Someone needs to look after my affairs.” Her voice sounded foreign, as if she weren’t used to speaking. “Apparently, you are too occupied with your own. You promised you’d given up fighting and gambling, and…” She stopped before her voice threatened to shake from the force of her feelings. “And women like that tart who just skipped out of here. I suppose you’ll say the dark shadow on your face is smudged dirt, and not a bruise.”
“It isn’t what you think.” He turned around and fumbled with his shirt in an attempt to make himself look presentable. She crossed her arms to stop them from shaking.
“You have no idea what I think, Jack Waverley.”
“Trust me, my dear, you have the wrong idea.”
His betrayal nearly rocked her off balance, but she maintained her composure. Her gaze flickered to the open bedchamber door. “Had I come a half hour ago, I’m sure I’d have proven those words lies. Fortunately, I was detained by my brother’s arrival.”
He muttered a curse and set his hands on his hips. “I’ve no wish to quarrel, Georgiana. Sarah is not a tart…well,” he flushed, “she is, but we do not have that sort of relationship. She’s been a friend of mine for years. Were actresses part of your acquaintance, I’d have introduced you long ago.”
“You seem to have a penchant for acquiring female friends, Jack. Was I not also your friend?”
In the past, he’d have laughed at her accusation and kissed her fears away. A shadow crossed his face, making him look older, sadder. “I have loved you all my life, Georgiana. And not only as a friend.”
She gulped hard. “Why not have her around for tea, then? Perhaps she plays the violoncello. We could make up a trio.”
He exhaled slowly. Funny, she almost wanted to see his familiar, almost mocking smile when she was wrong about something.
“You have nothing to fear from Sarah. She only arrived a few minutes before you did, to look in on me. I was going to leave this place and come home, but…” His flush deepened. “I was ashamed to see you, if you must know.”
She took a step toward him and stopped. “We are family now, Jack. At least, I thought we were.”
He nodded. “Exactly. I do hope we continue to be so.” His gaze flitted to her middle, and she instinctively folded her hands across her abdomen.
“Why did you take it?”
“I thought you didn’t care about the money.”
“I don’t. In fact, you may have the lot of it.”
“I do not want it.” He sighed and shook his head. “I cannot tell you,” he said quietly. “I wish I could, but…as horrible as it sounds, it is not something I want you to know. I’ve been trying to win it back these last few days, but it seems my luck has run out.”
Her legs wobbled, and she gripped the back of a chair. He was at her side in the space of a heartbeat and wrapped his arm around her waist for support, but she pushed him away. A strong reek of his unwashed body reached her, and she turned her head away.
“I forgot I am not allowed to ask you about your private affairs.”
“I have no private affairs. I told you the other night…when was it? Wednesday?”
She sniffed, trying to sound aloof, but instead sounded as if she had a cold. “How sweet of you to remember the night you first told me you loved me. Forgive me. You never actually said the words. My memory is as unreliable as yours.”
Without responding, he returned to the sideboard and poured another glass of brandy. “Drink a little of this.”
“I do not want anything.” Tears filled her throat, straining her voice. He handed her the glass, and she took it despite her protestation. The liquid seared her throat. “It’s not about the money. You lied to me. The fighting, the…” She took another drink and sputtered. He tapped her on the back, but she ignored the gesture. “All I ever wanted, Jack, was….”
He took the glass from her and clasped her hands. “I have done nothing to break my vow to you, Georgiana. Believe me, there have been no other women since I escorted you to France.”
“But…but Danielle…”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I wanted you to be jealous.”
“Why?”
“Because you swore never to love me, and I couldn’t accept it.”
“If you accept it now, then tell me why you took the money.”
His shoulders sagged. “I cannot, but believe me, it wasn’t anything to do with us, or to harm you in any way. Quite the opposite, in fact. I swear it on my father’s grave.”
“Do not swear, Jack.” She shook her head. “Jonathan is very angry. He thinks you are no better than Edward was. Worse, perhaps. I’m inclined to believe him.”
He swore beneath his breath. “I am not the man your brother and you fear. I will explain everything soon, but not now. Please, do not ask me.”
“I won’t.” She turned on her heel and walked unsteadily toward the door. “Goodbye, Jack. You needn’t return the money. In fact, you may have it all, to throw away on whatever or whomever you like. I will not stop you.”<
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“Where are you going?” He followed her.
She opened the door and stepped into the corridor. “To Jonathan’s. I will be out of your way.”
He caught her elbow; too roughly. She raised her hand to strike him. He released her, but the look in his eyes told her he almost welcomed the blow.
“You can’t leave, Georgie.”
“I can, Jack. I can do anything I please. Remember? That was the sole foundation of our arrangement.”
He gripped the door, and she noticed the bruises on his knuckles.
“You have everything you ever wanted, Jack. All of my fortune, gambling as you like, boxing, and your women.” It took the last bit of her strength to stare directly into his eyes. “Congratulations. All it cost you was a few months playing the husband to a silly, infatuated girl.”
No trace remained of the humorous friend he’d always been. If pressed, she could not explain how he looked but wished she’d never have to see his expression again.
“You don’t know how very wrong you are.”
“But I do, Jack. I was wrong to try to make you into something you are not. Something by your own admission, you never can be.”
“What is that?”
“My husband.”
It was torture to stare into his eyes. She waited for him to look away, but he didn’t. A muscle quivered in his jaw, and she longed to bury her head in his shoulder while he assured her everything would be all right.
But he did not speak words of love or beg her forgiveness. She would have taken any confession or explanation, regardless of how preposterous, but he was silent. She turned before he could see her tears.
“Goodbye, Jack. Thank you for helping me in France. I will always treasure those memories. I like to believe not all of them were lies.”
With a little shrug, she slipped through the doorway. In her mind, he was already behind her. Running down the stairs, taking them two at a time, to catch her. Clasping her in his arms before she climbed into the waiting coach. Covering her face, her eyes, her mouth with burning kisses. And she melted into him, her lips answering his.
The stairs echoed only one pair of footsteps. The door closed behind her soft as a whisper. He had not followed.
