A Season of Seduction (46 page)

“And what is your word worth?”

“It is all I have. Your sister, despite everything, trusts me. And if that’s all I ever have, that will be enough. It’s all I care about.”

“Good.” The duke straightened, and so did Jack. “Frankly, if what you told my sister is true, and you killed the Marquis of Haredowne in defense of a woman, then I cannot fault you. It is an honorable man who will go to any lengths to protect an innocent.”

“I will do anything for Becky, but I will never call myself honorable. It is not an honorable man who marries a woman in order to use her money to pay off his blackmailer.”

“Sit down, Fulton.”

Jack returned to the chair he’d occupied before, and the duke’s light blue eyes pinned him to it. “You
didn’t
marry Rebecca for her money.”

“I didn’t succeed. But I would have.”

“Mm. But I will never think that was the primary reason you wanted her.” Calton folded his hands on his desk. “If you lacked scruples so entirely, you would have given up on her the moment she demanded more time, right here in this room. You would have pursued and seduced someone else, or found another way to obtain fifteen thousand pounds for your old friend. But you didn’t. You wanted my sister for more than her money.”

Jack met the other man’s stare. If he’d met Becky without Tom Wortingham’s threats hanging over his head, he still would have wanted her. It had been more than her money from the very beginning. Deep inside, he’d known it all along.

Again the duke peered at Jack with those disconcerting eyes. “But do you love her? As much as you loved the girl you killed the marquis for?”

He winced. This was the hard part. He wouldn’t speak ill of Anne, and yet he wouldn’t hold her on a pedestal. He couldn’t allow anyone to think he cared for Becky any less than he had once cared for Anne, because it simply wasn’t true. “Anne was my first… she will always hold a place in my memories. But Becky is here now. She is real. She is my life.”

Calton drew back sharply, looking shaken. “I understand perfectly.”

All of a sudden, Jack understood, too. The duke had loved Sophie, Lady Westcliff, from the time he was young. But now he’d found his partner for life in his duchess.

“Look, I haven’t gone about this in the proper way,” Jack said. “God knows you cannot wish for a scoundrel, a criminal, and a liar to become part of your family. But I love your sister. Again, I would ask you to allow me the honor of becoming her husband. The deceit I engaged in—it was to my own detriment, and not only physically.” He gestured at his bandaged arm. “I will never forgive myself for lying to Becky. For hurting her.” He took another breath, this one shaky. “But by God, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to her.”

Calton paused, and then he said slowly, “But not in England.”

“No. A life in England… I wanted it. I tried. But it is not meant to be.”

“You must leave before the authorities learn that you have been here.”

“Yes.”

“Where will you go?”

Jack glanced away, then back at the duke, meeting his eyes squarely. “I took the liberty of arranging passage to America under an assumed name. A ship departs next week from Portsmouth.”

Calton shook his head. “You expected she would submit to this plan?”

“I hoped… I prayed that she’d find it in her heart to forgive me my sins. I couldn’t go away without being sure.” Something in him softened as he remembered the look of anticipation and excitement in Becky’s eyes when he’d drawn her aside earlier and told her his plan.

“What name will you assume?”

Jack tightened his fingers over the armrests, steadying himself. “James. Jack and Rebecca James. I hope you will not think it presumptuous of me, but I have watched your family for the past month, and it is so unlike mine. I can only hope the family Becky and I will build in America will be as strong, stable, and loving as the one you have built here in England.”

Even if it was only the two of them—if Becky was infertile as she suspected—he maintained that hope. They would build a happy life together. Each would be all the family the other truly needed. And far away, Becky would always have her loved ones in England.

The duke nodded. “No, it isn’t too presumptuous. In truth it will comfort me to know that my sister will be known by her true name. I’ve suffered her as a Fisk for four years too long. But—” the duke’s eyes narrowed, “—you
will
marry her properly?”

“Yes. I promise you that will happen as soon as we arrive on American soil.”

“Are you suggesting that you and my sister live in sin for the entire duration of the voyage to America?”

“Well…” Jack shifted uncomfortably.

The duke’s eyes narrowed until only the thinnest line of blue showed. “No.”

“No?”

One edge of the duke’s lips tilted upward. “The special license you obtained last month is still valid, is it not?”

When Garrett and Jack returned from their conference, Garrett called for quiet, then announced, “The curate has been summoned. Jack Fulton will marry Rebecca tonight.”

Becky’s jaw dropped. She stared wide-eyed at her brother before Kate, Sophie, and Cecelia whisked her out of the room. As they hurried out, though, Becky caught Jack’s eye. He was smiling at her, his eyes full of love. It surged into her, through her, and she smiled, too. She still had a silly smile pasted on her face when the ladies tumbled into her room.

Becky stood in the center of her bedchamber in a blissful daze as the women bustled about.

Sophie sent for the dress she’d worn when she remarried Tristan four years ago, and that had been altered for Becky when she’d planned to marry Jack at the beginning of the month.

Josie, who’d been hurrying to pack Becky’s belongings to take with her on the voyage to America, took charge of the proceedings, ordering the other women about as if they were the servants and she the mistress. None of them cared; instead they jumped to search through Becky’s stockings drawer, her clothes press, her rack of shoes, her box of jewelry.

The sapphire blue silk Becky had worn for Christmas dinner pooled around her feet, and Becky leaned down to tuck the arrowhead Jack had given her into her garter. When she straightened, four women were staring at her, frowning, and she laughed. “It’s for luck!”

Shaking her head and muttering about the eccentricity of the James family, Kate went to her own room to find a certain hairpin that matched perfectly with the dress. The other ladies scattered around, returning to their various tasks.

As Becky tied the leather strip that held the little carved man from Fiji around her neck, Josie leaned close and whispered into her ear. “My lady, you haven’t need of anything for your flux, do you?”

Becky’s heart tumbled over in her chest. Dropping her hands, she turned slowly to her maid. “What day is it, Josie?”

“Why, it’s Christmas, of course. The twenty-fifth of December.”

Becky’s flux came like clockwork every twenty-eight days, and Josie always kept track of what day she was on in the cycle. “How many days am I late?”

“Fourteen, my lady,” the maid said primly.

“A fortnight!” She pressed her hand to her stomach and stared at her pink-cheeked maid.

Josie grinned. “I daresay it’s a good thing you’re marrying tonight.”

Becky’s breath caught. “I daresay it is.”

Kate burst in, victoriously holding up the pin she’d found. When her eyes met Becky’s, she dropped her hand. Her dark brows snapped together. “What? What is it?”

Forgetting the other women in the room, Becky rushed to her sister-in-law and hugged her tight. “Oh, Kate, I think I am with child.”

Kate burst into tears.

Becky drew back. “Don’t tell me you are unhappy! You know I thought… I thought after William that I was barren.”

Kate drew out her handkerchief and blew her nose. “No, my dearest,” she said between sniffs, “I am so happy for you. You will make a lovely mother. I’m just—well, I just had a baby myself, and I’m terribly emotional. Forgive me for weeping; what a heartless response.”

“No, of course not.” Becky hugged her tighter. “Not heartless at all.”

“Oh, Becky, darling.” Sophie’s amber eyes glowed with pleasure. “What lovely news this is.”

Becky met Cecelia’s dark, serious eyes. Her friend smiled warmly and took her hands. “This is what you want most of all… Jack, and now this. I am so very happy for you.”

Fifteen minutes later, the women made their way downstairs, smiling but with tears in their eyes. Sophie’s wedding dress was a beautiful gown of brilliant white Italian silk, its skirts full and flounced, and above the flounces, an embroidered wreath of silver and white flowers trailed around the skirts up to the bodice.

Kate opened the door for Becky. Dropping her skirts, Becky stepped into the drawing room. All conversation ceased as everyone turned to her.

The curate stood beside the Christmas tree. Garrett and Tristan stood to his left, and the children were seated on the sofas and chairs. Jack stood beside the curate, tall and handsome in a simple black waistcoat and tailcoat and white shirt and cravat. His smile carved deep grooves in his cheeks as he looked at her, his gaze lingering on the artifact from Fiji at her neck.

Becky paused just inside the door, the happiness surging so powerfully inside her, she thought she might burst with it.

Jack reached out his good hand. “Are you ready?” His voice was calm and quiet, but it resonated through the room, and Becky could feel everyone’s questioning eyes on her.

“Yes.” She stepped forward and took his hand. He squeezed her fingers, and the curate began.

Jack said he’d take her as his wife. He promised to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her as long as they both lived. After Becky made similar promises, the curate asked who would give her away, and Garrett stepped beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I will.”

The curate turned back to Jack and recited the vows. Jack repeated them solemnly. She watched his face, watched the passion—and the honesty—in his brown eyes as he spoke.

“Please take Mr. Fulton’s right hand, my lady.”

She took his hand gently, conscious of his injury and careful not to hurt him. He held her hand limply—he couldn’t quite close his fingers yet—but warmth and comfort spread from his fingers through hers. She gazed into his eyes as she recited her own vows.

When it was done, Jack pushed a ring onto her finger. It was a beautiful gold band that glittered in the candlelight. “My mother’s,” he whispered.

“Please repeat the following words,” the curate said, and then he began the vows.

“With this ring,” Jack recited, “I thee wed and with my body I thee worship—”

Becky smiled.

“And with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

Rebecca fought the urge to giggle, but her lips twitched. She was still the one with the worldly goods, and she would be the one endowing them on him—and willingly, too.

Jack saw the expression on her face and grinned through the remainder of the speech. “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

The curate then spoke for a long while, his voice droning in her ear, but all she could do was smile giddily up at Jack. Finally, they were pronounced man and wife.

Becky gazed up into her husband’s face. He smiled down at her, and then, drawing her close with his left arm, he bent and kissed her.

It had been so long since they’d kissed. It was a lifetime ago. His lips were soft and warm, and they tasted like plum pudding and wassail, but there was a deeper taste, too. The rich, salty, masculine taste of Jack. She loved that taste, and forgetting everything else, she explored it, cupping her hands behind his head and sinking her fingers into his soft, sun-kissed hair.

Jack.
Her husband
. It was finally true. And she’d never been happier.