Mad Jack Page 9

  She bit his hand, hard.

  He yelped, grabbed his hand, and began rubbing it. “Why did you do that?”

  “Gray? Is that you?”

  “Naturally. I hope you don’t make it a habit to bite the hand that wakes you.”

  “No, I thought you were—” Her voice died in her throat. She couldn’t see beyond his face, the single candle barely piercing the immediate darkness. She turned her own face away. He’d flung her off the cliff. Oh, God.

  “I’m not your damned stepfather, Jack.”

  Moments of perfect clarity were rare, Maude had told her once, a brief flash when you simply comprehended something fully, knew what it meant all the way to its very core. For the first time she understood what Maude had meant. This man who had awakened her from the nightmare, who had chased her down and nursed her back to health—this man she didn’t begin to know, but still, she knew now that keeping anything from him was ridiculous.

  She smiled at him, saying clearly, “I told you about my little sister, Georgie. She’s really my half-sister, but that doesn’t matter. She’s mine. I have been her mother for four of her five years. My stepfather has always ignored her, didn’t even want to hear about her. She wasn’t the son he wanted, you see, and thus she had no value to him.

  “After my mother died four years ago, he gave up any pretense at all of affection for her.

  “Three months ago, I realized that if he found out how much I loved Georgie he would use her against me in an instant to force me to marry Lord Rye. I made it a point to speak of her in his presence with complete indifference, even occasional contempt. One night she had a nightmare and her screaming woke him. He was so angry that he sent her to his younger sister in York.

  “I couldn’t say anything, else he’d know how much I loved her. The last thing I wanted was for her to be punished because of what I refused to do. When I escaped from Carlisle Manor, I went immediately to Featherstone, to Maude and Mathilda. They made plans. That’s when I became Mad Jack.

  “Mathilda told me just after we came to you here in London that my stepfather’s younger sister had brought Georgie back to Carlisle Manor. Their housekeeper had sent a message by one of the stable lads. I couldn’t bear it. My stepfather isn’t stupid. It’s just a matter of time before he realizes he’s got a gold mine. I waited four days, then I had to go get her away from him.”

  His fingers steepled again. “I see. You were going to steal Durban, ride to Carlisle Manor, sneak away with a five-year-old little girl, and then do what? She would be a valet-in-training? I assure you, Jack, I would have remarked upon a child in my house. Come, tell me, what did you plan to do with her if you did manage to get her away from your stepfather?”

  All of it, she thought. He deserved to know everything, otherwise her actions could endanger him. “I have money. When my grandfather died—my mother’s father—he left all his money to me, not to my mother because he detested my stepfather. Nor is my stepfather my guardian. Lord Burleigh is. My grandfather’s been dead for nearly ten years now, and Lord Burleigh has managed to keep my stepfather from touching a single sou of that money. I would have brought Georgie to London, seen Lord Burleigh, and he would have given me my inheritance, or at least an income. I wasn’t planning on starving in a ditch, Gray. My plan still stands. As soon as I can get Georgie, I’m going to Lord Burleigh. He’ll protect Georgie and me from Sir Henry. Don’t doubt that.”

  “Normally females aren’t privy to financial affairs,” Gray said slowly. “This is particularly true, strangely enough, when the one most directly involved is the female in question. So, how do you know all of this?”

  “I eavesdropped on my stepfather speaking to Lord Rye. He told Lord Rye how my grandfather, the devious old bastard, had my money so tied up that he, Sir Henry, wasn’t able to use it. Sir Henry said the only way the inheritance would come to me is when I turned twenty-five or if I married.

  “Sir Henry roundly cursed Lord Burleigh, my legal guardian. He also told Lord Rye that if I died, the money wouldn’t go to Georgie, it would go to the Royal Naturalist Society.

  “Naturally, when I married, my husband would take control. Lord Rye knew my stepfather was leading up to this, and so they quickly struck a deal. If I married Lord Rye, then my stepfather would gain twenty thousand pounds and Lord Rye would keep the other forty thousand. I watched them shake hands through the keyhole.”

  Gray, who had heard quite enough about Lord Rye, said easily, “I gather then that this gentleman doesn’t appeal to you as husband material?”

  “He’s a dissolute lecher who very probably beat his first wife to death in a drunken rage—at least that’s the local gossip, whispered behind cupped hands. His other two wives both died in childbirth. He has six children from the three different wives. He’s rich—don’t get me wrong—but he has a son who’s following in his footsteps. He’s the type of man who pilfers two coins from the collection plate after he puts one in.

  “That is doubtless why my stepfather approached him. He can sniff out baseness in others quite easily.”

  Gray had heard quite a lot more about Cadmon Kelburn, Viscount Rye, none of it remotely pleasant. It was a pity that three of his children were sons. They didn’t stand a chance of becoming honorable men. The thought of Lord Rye having control over Jack, actually having her in his power, repelled Gray to the core.

  He sat forward in his chair, his hands clasped between his knees. He studied her face, then said, “What’s your name, Jack? Your full name?”

  “Winifrede Levering Bascombe. My father was Thomas Levering Bascombe, Baron Yorke.”

  “My God, you’re Bascombe’s daughter?” Gray collapsed in his chair, utterly taken aback.

  “You knew my father?”

  Gray shook his head. Then he began to laugh. He laughed and laughed.

  “Come, my lord, what is this? What is it about my father?”

  “Ah, Jack—”

  “My father called me Levering.”

  “If you don’t mind, I will stay with Jack for the moment.”

  “Georgie calls me Freddie.”

  He leaned over and lightly placed his palm over her mouth. He said very close to her face, looking clearly into her very lovely blue eyes, “Your guardian, Lord Burleigh, is also my godfather.”

  “Oh, goodness. Surely, that can’t be right. Oh, dear—” She stared at him a moment, then said, “Life is really strange, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. It appears there are a lot of ties bringing us together that neither of us knew anything about. Also I believe that my father hated your father, for what reason I don’t know. You and I have a history, Jack, even though the two of us have just begun to appear in it.”

  “I never heard my father speak of yours. I wonder why your father would hate mine. Do Maude and Mathilda know any of this?”

  “We can ask them.”

  “Is it very late, Gray?”

  He liked the sound of his name when she spoke it. This, he thought, had to be the oddest courtship ever conducted outside a gothic novel. He nodded. “Nearly one o’clock in the morning. How do you feel?”

  “I’m fine. Maude told me that Sir Henry came again today. Please, tell me what happened.”

  “Yes, Sir Henry was here. Douglas, Colin, and Sinjun were also the recipients of his venom. Actually, he was loath to come right out with it, but he finally had to. He pattered around the point for a while, then realized he was being mocked by all of us. He finally said you were his daughter and that we had to turn you over to him.”

  “Tell me,” she said, and he did.

  Gray saw Sir Henry’s flushed face, heard his own incredulous voice as he’d asked, deliberately goading the man, “But, sir, why ever would you want Mathilda and Maude’s valet?”

  “The valet belongs to me, my lord. He was merely on loan to them. They treated him too well. He is mine. You will have him sent for this minute.”

  “Actually,” Douglas Sherbrooke had said, studying his thu
mbnail, “Lord Cliffe has already offered the valet’s services to me while I’m in London, since my own fellow is sick and had to remain at Northcliffe Hall.”

  “No!”

  “Now, Douglas,” Sinjun had said, lightly touching her fingers to her brother’s sleeve, “you know how Maude and Mathilda adore having Jack arrange their hair, polish their slippers, and file their fingernails. Surely we can find you someone else. How very odd that a valet should be so very much in demand.”

  Sir Henry was grinding his teeth so loudly he was sure that Baron Cliffe—the bastard—could hear them. “I want Jack and I want him now. I tell you, he’s mine.”

  It was at that moment that Gray had simply stepped up to Sir Henry Wallace-Stanford and said right in his face, “You will leave my house. You will take Jack nowhere. He will remain here where he’s safe.”

  “All right, damn you. Jack is a girl. She’s my daughter and she ran away from home. You have no right to her, none at all.”

  Gray had said, “Why did she run away from you?”

  “That is none of your business.”

  He’d smiled then. “Very well, Sir Henry. I will speak to Jack and find out the truth of the matter. I will also speak to Maude and Mathilda. You may return on the morrow and I will tell you what will happen.”

  “You arrogant young puppy, you believe yourself so powerful, but I can break you, I can send you to oblivion, I can—”

  It was so subtly done that it took Gray a moment to realize that both Douglas and Colin had moved to stand directly behind Sir Henry. Douglas Sherbrooke lightly laid his hand on Sir Henry’s shoulder. “I should take care what I said if I were you,” he said very quietly. “My brother-in-law and I are both larger than you, Sir Henry. We also hold Gray a very good friend.”

  Sir Henry jerked away from him. “Damn you all, I will come back here, and I’m going to bring men with me to remove that bitch from here.” And Sir Henry was gone.

  Jack, Gray saw, after he’d told her of the interview, was perfectly white. “No,” he said, “I wanted you to know exactly what your stepfather said, what he threatened, because it’s your right to know. But don’t be afraid.”

  “He’s a vicious man.”

  “It won’t matter,” Gray said. He stared off toward the shadowed corner of the Ellen Chamber. “Tell me, Jack, must we invite him to our wedding?”

  11

  JACK JERKED up, flung back the blankets, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stepped off the bed, tripped, and fell to her hands and knees on the carpet because the bed was raised a good three feet off the floor.

  “No,” she shouted at him as she scrambled to her feet. He was already halfway out of his chair to help her.

  “No! Don’t you move.” And then she was standing over him, pushing his shoulders back down, staring at his upturned face, her nightgown billowing about her ankles, now shaking her fist under his nose.

  Her very nice eyes were dilated. The woman, Gray realized, was seriously perturbed. She leaned close, as if she thought that if she spoke any distance at all from him, he wouldn’t understand her. “No, don’t you move or say anything more. No, don’t you even consider towering over me and believing you’ll automatically get your way.

  “Now, what you just said, why that’s preposterous. I think you’re cruel and not a whit amusing. No, don’t say a word. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Nothing, do you hear me? Just be quiet. What the devil did you mean, anyway?”

  “As Aunt Mathilda the orator would say: Marriage. Me.”

  “It’s ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous, is it? Well, perhaps you’re right. It wasn’t all that romantic a marriage proposal, was it? Lie down, Jack. I don’t want you making yourself ill again. I spent four days leaning over you, wiping your brow and many other parts of you as well. My back hurt. You wore me out. I don’t want a relapse.”

  She sat on the side of the bed, her narrow white feet dangling. He smiled at her. All in all, this marriage business was easier than he’d thought it would be, although it still felt quite strange to ask a girl to marry him whose last name he’d discovered only ten minutes before. She was silent, staring down at her hands, folded in her lap. He waited, but she remained silent.

  “All right,” he said at last. “If you won’t marry me, then I have absolutely no recourse but to give you over to your stepfather. How old are you?”

  “Nearly nineteen.”

  “Eighteen, in other words. You are under his control, Jack. I’m sorry to tell you this, but Lord Burleigh wouldn’t have been able to protect you. He’s your guardian, in charge of your money, but Sir Henry is your stepfather. At the very least it would be a mess, possibly a scandal.”

  She was shaking her head frantically, but what came out of her mouth was a whisper. “Life couldn’t be so unfair, could it?”

  “Life is frequently the very devil. Now, it’s time for you to face up to things.”

  “No.”

  She was getting perturbed again, perhaps even more seriously this time. He didn’t imagine that any more pathetic whispers would be coming out of that mouth. She hadn’t braided her hair and it was tangled around her face. He liked the way one long, curling runner trailed down the side of her face and made an interesting twist just above her left breast.

  He wasn’t at all surprised when she said, her brow furrowed, her eyes mean, “You told me you weren’t a womanizer. Stop looking at me as if I were a horse on the block.”

  “You saw me staring at you, did you? Well, why shouldn’t I? I’ve seen you as naked as the day you came from your mother’s womb. I’ve taken complete care of you, Jack. I’ve bathed you, washed your hair, wiped you down with cool cloths, pulled you away from the window all white and naked so the men below wouldn’t see you. I held you tightly against me when you were freezing from the fever.

  “However, if you wish a more subtle, sensitive approach, then let me say it this way: Jack, you’re a very nice stretch of land that I’ve thoroughly mapped.”

  “I don’t know if that’s more sensitive or not. It’s embarrassing, is what it is. As a metaphor it makes me want to laugh. Goodness, I don’t even remember why I ran to the window. It’s all very odd. I don’t understand this.” She shivered, frowned at herself, and got back under the covers. “Now you’ll marry me in order to save me from being forced to marry this Lord Rye? You’re truly willing to sacrifice yourself?”

  “No, that’s not it at all. My fate was already well sealed before I heard about Lord Rye, who is a complete rotter, and, to be honest here, it makes my stomach turn to think of him touching you, having the right to do whatever he wishes to do to you.”

  She turned as pale as the white satin counterpane, swallowed convulsively, and said in a voice so thin it was nearly transparent, “I never thought of that. That would be dreadful. You mean he would—no, never mind that. My imagination doesn’t want to go in that direction. I’d rather think about being a stretch of land.”

  “It would be his right to do with you as he wished. I daresay nothing he would do to your fair person would send you to heights of delirium.

  “Now, the truth of the matter is that once you were with me for four days, alone, my fate was sealed. If you don’t marry me, I’ll be cast out of my very pleasant life here in London. No one will speak to me. No one will ride with me in the park. It’s possible that my friends will spit in my direction rather than acknowledge my presence. It’s an unpleasant future I’ll have, Jack.”

  “That makes no sense. No one even knows about me. Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. I’m a nobody.”

  “Not true. You’re quite a somebody. You’re Thomas Bascombe’s daughter and Lord Burleigh is your guardian. Ah, yes, in case you’ve still got questions about this, let me tell you just the way our world works. Ladies must be protected since they’re helpless to protect themselves from men who are twice their size and have twice their strength. Men don’t want other men to ravish ladies th
ey perceive as heir-producing material because it would severely undermine their confidence in succession.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that a man couldn’t trust the male child born of his woman to be of his seed. It could be that another man had taken her. Do you understand? Thus a lady has to be protected.”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  “Tell that to men who’ve been killed in duels, all for a lady’s honor.”

  She actually shuddered. She began swinging her feet. “Very well. Because of this seed business, you’ve got to marry me?”

  “Yes. Because of this seed business, when a gentleman dishonors a lady, or when he’s perceived to have dishonored a lady, he’s made to pay. Since neither of us is married, I won’t have to fight a male relative. I’ll just have to give myself to you for life.”

  “A long time, life.”

  “Yes, hopefully. Now, Jack, you’re still uncertain. Think of it this way: you’ll be saving yourself from Lord Rye, and I’ll be saving myself from being ostracized for debauching you, a young lady.”

  “Does holding me naked mean that you debauched me?”

  “Well, no, but no one would ever believe that I had a naked young lady next to me for four whole days and didn’t take complete and ruthless advantage of her, since I am a man and thus weak of flesh.”

  “But I was sick. Who would want to debauch a sick naked young lady?”

  “If you were conscious and looked as nice as you do at this moment, most any man who was still breathing would want to debauch you.”

  “Then why didn’t you debauch me?”

  “Well, I can’t say that I didn’t consider what it would be like—debauching you—but I didn’t carry through with it because you were really very sick. You weren’t all that conscious. You weren’t arguing or laughing. Your hair wasn’t tousled all over your head, all soft-looking. No man would have wanted to debauch you in the eye of your illness, just perhaps on the periphery.”