Lady Thorn

by Catherine Archer

  It was becoming clearer by the moment that he had gotten himself into a position where he would be surrounded by a world that was the epitome of all that he despised. Such possessions set the extremely wealthy apart and made them feel somehow superior to others. How could Victoria, surrounded by all this opulence, be any different? In spite of his first impressions of her as being somehow more genuine and unpretentious, Jed knew that she could not be.

  Again he reminded himself of why he had agreed to stay. Firstly for the purpose of finding his son, and secondly because Victoria Thorn needed his help. It was increasingly clear that her incredible affluence was one of the very things that made the lady the target of greedy suitors.

  Men such as Reginald Cox were not as scarce as they should be. Though Jed had foiled the bastard’s attempts to abduct Victoria, he could not abandon her now.

  His mother had taught him better than that. She had always reminded Jed that it was important to help those who needed it. Margaret McBride had herself often shared what little she had with others even less fortunate than herself.

  Though she had so much, Victoria had said she needed him. He recalled how visibly shaken she had been last night, despite her efforts to hide her fear. No, he could not abandon her.

  Jed could only hope he would keep his own attraction to the lady under control. The memory of the rush of heat he’d felt only minutes ago, when she came to his room and found him without benefit of his trousers, was an intense one. Shifting his shoulders inside his black jacket, Jed shook his head. He was no inexperienced boy, he assured himself with forced confidence. His feelings would be kept at bay.

  His boots made no sound on the plush carpet that ran the length of the corridor, but as he stepped onto the wide double staircase that lead to the foyer below, the sound of his heels clattered against the highly polished wood and echoed above him. This drew his gaze upward, where he saw a ceiling exquisitely painted with cherubs and clouds that were so real they looked as if they would be soft and billowy to the touch.

  At the foot of the stairs, a footman, uniformed in royal blue, bowed and pointed to a door across the marbled floor. “You are to go into the green sitting room, if you please, sir.” The man rushed to open the white-paneled door for him.

  Jed nodded. “Thank you.” He was not used to receiving such deferential treatment from servants, was in fact not used to servants much at all. He preferred to wait on himself. When he was in Bridgeport, where the ship building firm was located, he generally stayed with his partner, Peter Cook, and his family. Peter’s wife, Jane, and his young sister, Leanne, managed the household chores with the help of an authoritative older woman named Mrs. Muldoon. She was not the least bit servile in her manner, running the house with an iron hand.

  With brows raised at the irony of this whole situation, Jed moved past the man and into the chamber beyond. The long room was resplendent with white-paneled walls and plush carpeting. The intricate trim on the walls and ceiling was lavishly bathed in gold. Settees and chairs in various shades of green, ranging from a yellow spring green to deepest hunter, were arranged about the room. Portraits of what Jed was certain were long-dead relatives in wigs and pantalets adorned the walls. The tall windows that ran along the length of the outside wall let in enough light to give the place a warm, cheery feel, despite its grandeur.

  All this Jed took in as he made his way to the opposite end of the chamber, where Victoria sat on a light green sofa. She did not meet his eyes as he came to a standstill a few feet from her. All her attention appeared to be centered on the tea tray which lay on the table before her.

  While her gaze was trained elsewhere, Jed had a moment to study her more closely than he had the previous night. Then he had had an impression of beauty and courage. Today he was hit with the full force of the femininity of the woman he had agreed to protect.

  Her hair was quite dark, nearly black, in fact, and to his surprise seemed to be somewhat unruly. In spite of the tidy bun that had been arranged at the base of her neck, stray wisps had escaped to curl about her forehead and nape. Fringes of thick, dark lashes were outlined against her high cheekbones, which were flushed a healthy peach. Her nose was narrow and finely formed, her jawline clearly but not sharply defined. She wore a gown of some soft gauzy fabric in a delicate butter yellow. The high neckline did nothing to detract from the femininity of her figure, the bodice cut close over her sweetly rounded breasts. Inside him he felt a definite stirring that had nothing to do with wanting to safeguard this woman.

  His lips thinned as he recalled his own certainty that he could put aside his interest in her. God help him, Jed thought grimly, he hoped he didn’t end by having to protect her from himself.

  Victoria did not look at Jedidiah directly as she heard him come to a standstill before her. She could not stop thinking about her own unexpected, and most unwelcome, reaction to seeing him in the altogether.

  Yet neither could she ignore him. Trying with all her will, but with little success, to vanquish the memory of his tall, lean, muscular form from her mind, she picked up a blue patterned china cup. “Would you care for tea, Mr. McBride?” To her annoyance, her fingers quivered slightly, and she could only hope that he was not aware of it.

  “Do you have coffee?” he asked politely.

  She looked up at him. Of course he would want coffee, she told herself. He was an American. “I am very sorry,” she told him hurriedly. “I do not. I will ring for the maid.”

  He stopped her with a raised hand. “No, don’t bother. Tea will be fine.”

  Feeling suddenly awkward and not knowing why, Victoria told herself she must make certain that Mrs. Everard even had the beverage the sea captain preferred. She did want him to be comfortable while he was with them. Hastily she filled a delicate Dresden cup and held it out to him.

  Jedidiah McBride reached out, and for a brief moment their fingers brushed as she relinquished the cup to him. A completely unexpected jolt of heat passed from his hand to hers and up her arm. Without thinking, she jerked back, folding her trembling fingers together in her lap.

  Heavens, whatever was the matter with her? Although he was the first man she had ever seen without benefit of his clothing, the glimpse had been fleeting and inadvertent. It was quite unfortunate that she had been in such a panic to make certain the sea captain told no one, including Clara, of his true identity that she had accompanied the maid to his chamber. It had been that silly goose Clara who opened the door before being granted entry. The whole thing had been quite hapless, and would not be repeated.

  Even as Victoria told herself this, she was again assaulted by the image of the stirring she had glimpsed, in his, well… there…as she looked at him.

  She risked a glance at the man from beneath her dark lashes. He seemed to be stirring his tea with intense concentration, judging by the determined expression on his face. She couldn’t help noticing that the delicate china looked even more so in his strong hands.

  Because of his preoccupation, she was emboldened to look at him more closely. Goodness, but he was more handsome than she had remembered. Last night, there had been only the lanternlight in the carriage, and then candles when they reached Briarwood. She’d also been more shaken by what had happened than she cared for anyone else to know even now.

  Sunlight did nothing to diminish Jedidiah McBride’s attractiveness. If anything, he was even more compelling with the sunlight bringing his sun-streaked dark blond hair to vibrant life. Her gaze dipped lower, to where his lean jaw was lightly stubbled with dark gold hair. It looked coarser in texture than that on his head, and she wondered if it would feel so to the touch. Her curious eyes moved on. The black coat he had donned over his open-necked white shirt was rumpled from his altercation with Reginald, as were his close-fitting black breeches. His high black boots were scuffed and dusty, but the relaxed arrogance of his stance told her that Jedidiah McBride was not in the least concerned about his disordered state. To her surprise, Victoria did not find his
slightly unkempt appearance distasteful, but somehow strangely appealing.

  Before she could even begin to contemplate the reason for this, Jedidiah looked up at her, his brow quirked in an impatient query. Victoria felt a flush stain her throat. Heavens, she was being rude beyond imagining. Hurriedly she indicated the settee opposite her. “Please forgive me, it seems I have completely forgotten my manners today.” Her blush deepened as she remembered anew what had occurred upstairs earlier.

  After he was seated, she took a deep breath, knowing she had best put the matter to rest as soon as possible. Victoria began, “Mr. McBride, let me begin by apologizing for what happened…. I had no intention… What I am trying to say is that I had no right to come to your room this morning. I was simply eager to talk with you. I meant to make certain that you did not give away your real identity to anyone. Not even to the members of my household. For the purpose of keeping our secret, all must believe you to be my cousin.” She stopped, then started again. “I had no idea Clara would just open the door. You see, the servants are accustomed to having few people here besides myself, and have grown less formal than they might otherwise be….”

  She glanced at him and found him looking as uncomfortable as she felt. He did not meet her gaze as a dark flush colored his strong throat. She found her eyes lingering there. For some reason known only to whimsy, Victoria suddenly wondered what it would feel like to touch the ridge of muscle that ran down the side of his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt.

  He cleared his throat, drawing her bemused gaze back to his face. Thankfully, the man appeared totally unaware of her madness. She forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying. “Lady Victoria, please don’t go on. I will not tell anyone anything other than what we agreed to last night.” He paused. “As to the other matter, there is no need to apologize. I understand, and it is already forgotten by me. I hope that you will forget what happened, as well.”

  As Victoria listened to the delicately put reply, she found herself thinking again what a very gentlemanly man he really was, despite his lack of noble birth. Her wayward attention wandered over the length of him once more. She found herself regretting the fact that Jedidiah must change his mode of dress to a more formal one in order to fulfill their purpose. There was something very stirring about the casually masculine cut of his captain’s attire. There was no denying that he wore it with unexpected elegance. Many a man of her own acquaintance could benefit from emulating Jedidiah’s nonchalant attitude toward his appearance. For all the money they spent on their perfectly tailored coats, trousers and highly polished boots, they could not compete with his effortlessly graceful masculinity.

  Again she realized that Jedidiah McBride was waiting for her to answer. She blushed to the roots of her hair. “I… Then it will be as you ask. We will forget what happened, and start afresh.” But even as she said the words, Victoria knew it would not be as easily done as said. Never had she thought that a man could be so very interesting, even handsome, without his clothing. The brief glimpse she’d had of him had been enough to show Victoria that the way his smooth skin lay over the hard muscles of his body was quite pleasing to her. Nor had she been completely blind to Clara’s reaction to the man. As these thoughts ran though Victoria’s mind, she was doubly careful not to allow her gaze to stray to the area at the top of his thighs.

  Determinedly she concentrated on Jedidiah’s face as he nodded and gave her a crooked half smile. Unexpectedly, her heart turned over in her breast. Was there no end to the effect he had on her?

  She nearly sighed aloud with impatience toward herself. Jedidiah McBride was here to help her with her problem. He had his own life and future. There would be nothing more between them when their bargain was met. She would remember that, if she knew her own good.

  In the three years since her parents had died, she’d learned to control herself and her emotions. It was the only way she could have gotten through her grief, then accepted the enormous responsibility of running her father’s properties and business interests. She called upon those skills of self-control now. She must begin her efforts to find a husband as soon as possible.

  Almost as if he had read her mind, Jedidiah McBride looked up from his cup, his expression filled with determination, and said, “Well, where do we begin to look for a husband?”

  Victoria gave a start, his question disturbing her for some unknown reason. Then she told herself that this was completely ridiculous. She should be grateful that he was anxious to get started. It was further proof that he was not some charlatan bent on taking advantage of her. But the feeling of irritation remained, even as she answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “We will, of course, be going up to London. It being May, the season is on, and most of society’s eligible bachelors will be attending.”

  He nodded in approval. “Nina’s letter was sent from London. It seems the best place to begin looking for her, as well.”

  “I’m glad that both our needs will be so well served,” she replied smoothly. Victoria reached to pour herself a cup of tea before continuing. “There is much to be done before we can go on to London. The first thing we must do is see you outfitted as a gentleman. That will mean new clothing. Toward that end, I have sent for the man who tailored much of my father’s attire. Although he lives in Carlisle, which is the local town, he is a superb tailor and will turn you out very nicely.”

  Jedidiah’s cup clattered in his saucer, making her look with surprise into a pair of stormy sea-green eyes. “I cannot agree to that,” he informed her curtly.

  Her delicate brows raised in irritation at his unexpected brusqueness. “But I must insist. How can I introduce you into society as my cousin from America if you are not dressed as one of them?”

  He scowled in displeasure, setting his cup and saucer carefully on the tray. “Lady Victoria, I had not realized that I would be expected to purchase a dandy’s wardrobe in order to fulfill my obligations to you. What good would it be to me to spend hundreds of pounds on clothing I will never wear again?”

  She smiled at this. The funds that would be necessary to purchase his clothing would not be missed by her, and quite fairly could be considered her responsibility, since it was she who required his changed manner of dress. “That will not be your concern,” she told him. “I myself will see to that expense.”

  “You will not!”

  His vehemence caused her to pause, but then she went on, trying to be reasonable. “Please, you must realize that you will be accompanying me to whatever social functions I need to attend in London. We must not appear to be anything other than the cousins we have agreed upon. As I told you last night, it would not do for me to have you in my home without benefit of a chaperone if you are not related to me in some way. I have no female relation who could act as such. If I did, I might not find myself in this precarious position. The fact that I am alone is what gave Reginald the impression he might kidnap me without fear of retribution. As my cousin, you will be required to present yourself in a certain way, even if you are from America.”

  His eyes narrowed as he listened. “And what does that mean? Would it be too much for your snobbish society matrons to believe that a mere sea captain could be the cousin of the noble and wealthy Lady Victoria Thorn?”

  Victoria watched him closely, hearing again the tone that had so disturbed her last night. This time she could not put it off to some other cause. His disdain for society could not be missed.

  “Are you all so very democratic in America, then? Is everyone treated equally regardless of their social or financial situation?”

  For some reason, her question appeared to irritate him far more than she would have imagined, for a muscle flexed in his jaw, his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap and his gaze was trained on the blue sky outside the window. It was some moments before he seemed to relax enough to reply. And when he did, she could hear the mocking irony in his tone. “No. It is not different in America. There, too, who you are and what yo
u have is more important than anything, including loyalty.”

  Victoria could only study him for a long moment, realizing that he had just given her a clue as to the reason for his poor estimation of her kind. She wondered if this unfavorable opinion was connected to the infamous Nina. Had she rejected him because she felt she was better than he? She could not help thinking that this woman must indeed be a fool. Jedidiah McBride was handsome, intelligent, well-spoken, strong, and master of his own ship. One would need to have keener eyes than hers to find some flaw in him, other than the fact that he might be too obstinate and bent on keeping others at a distance.

  What in heaven’s name was she to do with the man in London? They would, in their search for a suitable mate for her, be moving among the very highest orders of English society.

  He spoke, interrupting her thoughts. “I… Forgive me. I had no right to talk to you that way. You have done me no wrong, have in fact agreed to do me a great service in helping to find my child. I will do whatever is necessary.”

  Victoria felt a rising sense of compassion for this strong, intractable man. He must feel a great sense of longing for his child, if he was prepared to do something so unpleasant in order to find the boy.

  She said, “I am very sorry for what this woman named Nina did to you. It was wrong, and had little or nothing to do with her social station. She was obviously just a foolish and selfish woman.”

  He looked at her with an expression of displeasure and surprise, clearly not happy that she should broach the subject. To her amazement, he did answer her, though the words caused her to frown. “She was a product of her class.”

  “The nobility are like everyone else. Some work hard and care about doing good, others live their lives for nothing but their own pleasure.”

  “I’m sure you are right,” he told her, but the set expression on his face gave the lie to the words.