Lady Thorn

by Catherine Archer

  Mary was thoughtful, her finger worrying her full lower lip. “I wonder why? You say he is well-spoken and has a gentleman’s understanding of good manners.”

  Victoria perched on the edge of the other chair. “He did inadvertently tell me something that makes me think this woman, this Nina, rejected him because she felt he was beneath her. Yet I think there might be something more, something he doesn’t want to disclose.”

  “It seems there is some mystery to this man, this handsome paragon of bravery and intellect,” Mary said. “I can hardly wait to see him for myself.”

  A blush stained Victoria’s cheeks. Had she really described Jedidiah that way? No wonder Mary had come to the conclusion that she was attracted to him.

  At that moment, the bell sounded to announce the midday meal. “Heavens!” she cried. Standing, she took Mary’s hand. “There is no more time to discuss it. You’ll be seeing for yourself in a few moments.”

  “I am most anxious to do so,” Mary said, her golden eyes growing brighter with curiosity and anticipation as she followed her friend from the library.

  Victoria paused outside the small dining room, smoothing her hands over her full skirts and taking a deep breath. As she looked at Mary, Victoria saw the expectant expression on her pretty face and could not help wondering what she would make of the American. Clearly her friend was willing to keep an open mind so far. If she thought him anything but the decent man Victoria believed him to be, the vicar’s daughter would not hide it.

  She realized she could not put off the moment any longer, knowing the man was very likely waiting for them. But she could not help interjecting a note of warning. “Not a word, now, until we are alone. Then you can feel free to say whatever you like about him.”

  With a frown of consternation, Mary answered her, “But of course, Victoria. Am I not the soul of propriety?” Only the sparkle in her golden eyes gave away her amusement.

  Victoria would not be drawn. She was far too nervous.

  On entering the cheerful room, with its bright yellow walls and dark walnut furnishings, Victoria saw that Jedidiah was just coming through the door opposite them. He paused in seeming surprise on seeing Mary standing there beside her, then greeted them both with a slight bow. “Ladies.”

  “Mr. McBride,” Victoria responded, feeling decidedly disturbed at the way her heart thudded at the sight of him. It really was quite silly of her to react so every time she saw the sea captain. She also knew she could not allow her interest to show in the slightest of ways without Mary taking note of it.

  Victoria turned to her friend, purposefully keeping her tone cool. “May I present my guest, Mr. Jedidiah McBride?” She then turned to face him. “Mr. McBride, my dear friend Miss Mary Fulton.”

  He bowed again, with a show of elegant manners that would have given any nobleman cause for pride. “How do you do, Miss Fulton? I am very pleased to meet you.”

  Victoria watched Jedidiah McBride with scrutinizing eyes. She was beginning to realize that there was more to the man than he had alluded to. Last night he had been a gallant soldier rescuing her in the darkness; this morning he was a stubborn man holding his disdain for the social elite before him like a proud flag. And now, meeting Mary, he appeared the consummate gentleman.

  Which man was the true Jedidiah McBride? Perhaps all. And that, Victoria realized, made him even more fascinating.

  Glancing at her, Victoria saw that Mary was staring at the sea captain with her mouth agape. She gave her lovely friend a surreptitious nudge.

  Mary immediately recovered herself enough to form an equally formal rejoinder. “As am I… Mr. McBride.” The brief glance she cast toward Victoria from the corner of her eye told the taller woman that she would indeed have much to say when they were alone.

  Victoria motioned self-consciously toward the table, which had been laid with her grandmother’s favorite silver and the Dresden china. “Please, won’t you sit down?” She went to the head of the table.

  Even as Mary took the seat to her left, Victoria could feel her penetrating gaze. Victoria deliberately trained her attention on Jedidiah. Facing him proved only slightly less uncomfortable than facing Mary. He was watching her with that one mocking brow arched over his right eye.

  For some reason, Victoria had the distinct feeling that he was aware of her discomfort with the situation and was amused by it. That prickled, and she raised her chin in regal defiance.

  No matter how uncomfortable this meal became, she would not allow Jedidiah McBride to get the best of her. Or, at least, she amended as he smiled and her heart skipped in response, she would not allow him to know that he had.

  Jedidiah studied the two women while trying to appear not to. Victoria appeared to be completely occupied with filling her plate from the silver dishes that were presented to each of them in turn. The one Victoria had introduced as Mary seemed equally interested in him.

  She smiled at him openly when she caught him glancing her way, and he could not help smiling in return. There was something very refreshing about the pretty woman, with her golden-brown hair and her eyes the color of a chunk of African amber he had once seen. There seemed not the slightest hint of artifice or pretension in her. “So, Mr. McBride,” she began without hesitation, her curiosity apparent. “How long have you been in England?”

  Taking a sip of the wine that had been poured into the crystal glass in front of him, Jed smiled. “Two days.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I wonder, is it very different from where you are from?”

  He could feel Victoria’s gaze upon him as he answered, “I am not really from anywhere. I live on my ship, the Summerwind. You could say that I am based out of Bridgeport, Connecticut. That is where our shipping firm, Cook and McBride, is located.”

  “Our?” she asked.

  Jed scowled. He wasn’t sure now that he wanted to answer all these questions, didn’t want this situation to become personal. He glanced over at Victoria, and the way she was watching him made him wonder if she knew of his reluctance to talk about himself.

  “Well?” Mary prodded unashamedly.

  Jed told himself it didn’t matter if they knew some things about him. It wouldn’t really change anything. He and Victoria Thorn had a business arrangement, but he continued to be aware of her intent gaze as he went on. “‘Our’ refers to myself and my partner Peter Cook. His father, Sebastian, was the founder of Cook Shipbuilding. I… When I was eighteen, I went to work for them in the factory. As the years passed, the firm wasn’t doing well. The type of vessel they were producing was being phased out by the advent of the steamship. I, well…I came up with a design that Sebastian claimed brought them out of the red. It was a sailing ship with a large hold, but a narrower hull that increased its speed. When Sebastian died…” He hesitated for a moment as he thought of the kindness of the man and how good he had been to him. “When he died, he was generous enough to leave me a half interest in the business.”

  Mary watched him with round eyes. “You relate it all so modestly Mr. McBride. Surely you are quite brilliant to have come up with such a design. How proud you must be.”

  Jed could not restrain a satisfied nod as he thought of the ships. “Those ships are beauties, all right. Peter and I own the first two of that model, the Summerwind and her sister, the Winterwind.” Building those ships, having Sebastian and his family accept him, those things had changed Jed’s life. Yet he’d never quite gotten over feeling as if he were an interloper, no matter how they behaved differently.

  And the Cooks had come to accept him on his terms, understanding that he could not allow himself to come too close to anyone. That would all change now that he had a son. His child would be the recipient of the love he had kept locked inside himself.

  He looked up then, with a self-conscious expression, feeling as if he had already given away too much. “Enough about me, Miss Fulton. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?” He smiled at her with as much charm as he could summon up.r />
  He was surprised to hear her laugh. “Why, Mr. McBride, are you trying to change the subject?”

  This time he could not restrain a genuine grin. “Yes, Miss Fulton, I am.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she replied. “Then I shall allow you to do so.”

  His gaze went to Victoria, who had said nothing throughout the exchange, simply listening with avid interest. When their gazes met, she flushed and turned her attention to her meal. As he looked at her, he realized that though he found Mary Fulton quite attractive, with her delicate features and direct gaze, she seemed somehow to fade next to the regal beauty of Victoria Thorn. This realization did not please Jed in the least.

  He had no desire to find Victoria Thorn exceptional in any way. It was sheer madness on his part to do so. She represented everything he disdained, extreme wealth and social position, not to mention her titled status.

  Yet he cast a surreptitious glance from her to Mary Fulton and back. Did the fact that this refreshing woman was Victoria’s friend say something about her? Something that gave lie to his beliefs?

  This very morning, she had told him that not all aristocrats were the same. That they were both good and bad, like anyone else.

  Jed gave himself a mental shake as he turned his attention to the roast pheasant on his plate. What Victoria said might have some validity where she was concerned, but he did not think for a moment that she was being truly honest with herself as far as her peers were concerned. The power and privilege of their circumstances held them above reproach.

  And God help those who had not been born to that same lofty state. Or those who had been cast out for some perceived offense against the rules of society. Cast out and forgotten, no matter how young and foolish they might have been.

  As his mother had been by her own family when she had fallen in love with and married his father.

  Chapter Four

  Victoria was apprised of Mr. Randsome’s arrival later that afternoon. She thanked the maid who came to inform her and sent her to fetch Jedidiah.

  She hadn’t seen him since luncheon, when he had chatted so amiably with Mary. Jedidiah had been far less cryptic and jealous of his privacy than he appeared to be with her. Victoria was sure she would never have learned so much about him if Mary had not arrived for luncheon. He’d even come to the door with them when the vicar’s daughter left.

  What she did not know was why this bothered her so much. Apparently without even trying, Jedidiah McBride was driving her to distraction. One moment he could be intractable and stubborn. The next he could be charming and attentive, as he had proved himself to be with Mary over the midday meal.

  Victoria did not know when she had last heard her friend laugh so much, which of course was very welcome, considering the strain she was under, caring for her father. The reverend was not expected to recover from the consumption that had ravaged his once robust frame, and Mary worked tirelessly to keep him comfortable.

  Why, then, did Victoria not feel more cheery?

  Squaring her slender shoulders in preparation for the coming meeting with Jedidiah McBride, Victoria went directly to the green drawing room, where the tailor and an employee were waiting.

  Mr. Randsome’s assistant had already taken the opportunity to lay out several lengths of fine fabric. They ranged in color from a subdued buff to a deep, vibrant blue. Victoria eyed the royal blue with a frown. For their purpose, she felt, it would be best that Jedidiah dress as conservatively as possible. They had no wish to draw too much attention to the sea captain. She very much hoped the stubborn man would not be bent on having the blue.

  The very man she was thinking so uncharitably of made his appearance only a few moments later. Every time she saw him, Victoria was struck by his sheer masculine presence. He walked into every room as if he belonged there and was ready to take control of any situation. As before, Victoria found herself thinking how well his captain’s garb suited him. The snug-fitting black breeches hugged his lean hips, and the loosely cut black coat, with its gold buttons, gave him the freedom to move with that untamed grace that was so much a part of him.

  As Jedidiah strode toward them, Victoria watched the tailor to gauge his reaction to the sea captain. If Mr. Rapdsome thought there was anything amiss with Jedidiah’s appearance, he made no comment. The only evidence of his curiosity was one raised brow as he seemed to size up the younger man.

  When Jedidiah stopped before them, looking at the many bolts of fabric with a decided frown, she said hurriedly, “Mr…. Cousin Jedidiah, this is Mr. Randsome. As I told you, he was my own father’s tailor. I am sure he can be of assistance to you.”

  She turned to the tailor with a smile. “Mr. McBride is my cousin from America.”

  “America?” The older man looked to Jedidiah in obvious surprise.

  “Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “It is a well-known fact that my Great-uncle Lionel went to America in search of adventure.” She turned to Jedidiah with a forced smile. “My cousin has journeyed all this way to find his family. I hope he is not too disappointed at discovering that I am the only remaining Thorn.”

  Jedidiah answered quickly, his gaze catching hers with an expression she could not name. “Not at all, Cousin… ‘Victoria.” Her name on his lips had a strangely intimate sound that she had not expected and left her feeling somewhat vulnerable.

  She dragged her eyes from his and looked to the tailor once more. “My… cousin will need some new things. You see, we are going up to London for what remains of the season. I am most anxious to introduce him to society.”

  Jedidiah made a soft noise that sounded like a choking cough, and Victoria had the distinct impression that he was laughing at her. And for some unexplainable reason she felt like joining him, though the feeling stemmed more from nervousness than from actual amusement. She could hardly believe herself, standing here lying as if she’d been born to it.

  But it must be done. She’d known that from the beginning.

  “I see.” Mr. Randsome nodded quickly, though he continued to watch Jedidiah with poorly concealed interest. “I’m sure I can help you with whatever you might require.” He gestured around them as he focused his attention on Victoria. “Your message said to bring some samples of cloth that would be suitable for a gentleman’s garments. I hope these meet with your approval.” He turned to Jedidiah and bowed politely, making a better show of containing his curiosity. “And yours, sir.”

  Victoria replied with equal civility, though she could feel the force of Jedidiah’s resistance. Clearly he was still not happy with the notion of purchasing clothing to wear in London. Yet something told Victoria he would not admit to this. Jedidiah McBride seemed a man of his word, and he had agreed to do this. It would be done.

  As if he had read her mind, the American came farther into the room, his features set with determination.

  The next few minutes passed in surprising tranquillity. Victoria did not try to lead Jedidiah in his choice of fabric. He just seemed to prefer the more subdued colors himself.

  In point of fact, he chose only dark colors when he began. It was Mr. Randsome who suggested some of the lighter tones, to add contrast to his new garments.

  Jedidiah seemed uncharacteristically content to follow the older man’s lead. Only a short time had passed before they began choosing specific cuts of jackets and trousers from the sketches Mr. Randsome and his assistant had brought with them.

  Victoria was beginning to feel she did not have to be there at all. There was other work she was neglecting. Still, she stayed on in case she was needed. Not because she liked seeing Jedidiah relaxed and as at ease as he seemed now with Mr. Randsome. Not because she liked the deep sound of his voice as he talked. Not because of the way the light gilded his hair every time he passed in front of the tall windows.

  It was not until the tailor began to speak of the quantity of coats and other clothing that Jedidiah balked, shaking his head. “I will not require so many coats, nor—”

 
She interrupted, addressing Mr. Randsome directly. “We will take all of those items you mentioned, and a riding jacket of the dark gray, as well.”

  The American swung around to Victoria with a forbidding scowl. “Do you realize that you have ordered fifteen coats in all?”

  Victoria turned from speaking to Mr. Randsome, with a frown of her own. The very fact that she had been surprised by his ready compliance with everything thus far had left Victoria somewhat prepared for this reaction.

  Yet she could not help feeling frustrated by it. She had no wish to discuss this in front of the tailor. She tried to answer with careful courtesy. “Yes, of course, Mr…. Cousin.”

  He shook his head. “That is too many.”

  Victoria could feel the interest of both Mr. Randsome and his assistant. She moved closer to Jedidiah, telling herself that he was likely very pleased to have found something to disagree with her about. She answered him through tight lips. “Please, Cousin, might we discuss this later?” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

  Jedidiah McBride paid her signals no heed. He only looked down at her with clear disapproval, his own brows raised in reaction to her expression. “I will not have it, Lady Victoria.”

  She forgot the other two men, in her amazement at those words. Victoria was not in the least accustomed to being spoken to that way. She sucked in a deep breath, raising her chin. “You… you will not have it.”

  To her utter stupefaction, his reaction was to take her by the arm as he addressed the two men. “Excuse us for just a moment.” Jedidiah then half pulled her to the other side of the room, next to one of the tall windows. So shocked was she that Victoria made no effort to resist him.

  But as soon as they came to a stop with the long brocade drape partially blocking her view of the room, she recovered herself enough to jerk her arm from his grasp. “How dare you!”

  He stared down at her in abject surprise. “How dare I?”

  She resisted the urge to rub the spot where his fingers had held her. “You are not to lay your hands upon me again.”