Emerald (Jewel Trilogy, Book 2) (42 page)

She should have known not to take an Englishman at his word.

Jason held his nose as he rode past a ditch that had been used as a communal grave for more than a thousand bodies during London's last great plague. Though the remains had been covered with dirt, after two years it still seemed to reek.

Everything in his life seemed to be reeking right now.

Damnation, he'd lost Geoffrey Gothard's trail.

As he turned the corner into the secondhand-clothing market on Houndsditch, Jason found himself wishing again that Caithren really were Emerald. Emerald MacCallum knew how to track a man. Emerald MacCallum would have captured her quarry.

It had cost him precious minutes to saddle a horse and take off, but Gothard hadn't ridden away until he'd glimpsed Jason rounding the corner of the town house. Yet he'd never managed to catch up. And now the man had seemingly disappeared into the maze that was known as London.

Once again they were playing hide-and-seek, but Jason couldn't figure out the rules of the game. Gothard had chased him all the way to London—why didn't he come after him now instead of running off? It couldn't be that Gothard feared confronting him on a public street, because Jason had followed him halfway across town. The man had had ample opportunity to lead him somewhere more private.

Cursing his ineptitude, he kept one hand on his pocket watch as he jostled his mount between two unkempt riders. If Cait were Emerald instead, he wouldn't have panicked and left her, terrified for her safety. Not to mention he might have done a better job of following the man if he hadn't been swamped with guilt. Guilt that muddled his mind. For more than thirty-six hours he'd known the truth, known that Caithren was searching for a brother she'd never find. Every one of those hours had taken its toll on his soul.

Piles of garments cluttered the street, guarded by watchful owners. Barking madly, a dog skirted the mounds and darted under Jason's horse, making him shy. A wagon splashed mud as it careened on by, its driver ignoring several vendors who angrily brushed off their soiled goods, yelling obscenities after him.

Once again Jason had proven himself a failure, unworthy of his father's name.

He'd failed to catch Gothard. He'd failed to tell Caithren the truth yesterday, he'd failed to keep her safe from pregnancy, and he'd failed to be there for her this morning. She had no reason to attend the wedding, yet by now she was probably getting ready, excited to see her brother. He pictured her choosing a gown from Kendra's clothes press, carefully painting her face, sticking on another adorable heart-shaped patch. All for nothing.

He craned his neck. Was that Gothard's sandy head he glimpsed through the mass of haggling customers? Thinking it just might be, his hopes lifted. He dug in his heels, racing after the man, then caught up to find himself disappointed yet again.

It wasn't Gothard, after all. But the man had to be nearby…somewhere.

He would give it one more hour. Then, if he were unsuccessful, he would go home. And—no matter that it would be the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life—he'd tell Caithren the whole truth.

"He'll be back, Cait."

Caithren looked up from her feet, which were trodding a path through Lincoln's Inn Fields, and over to her new friend Kendra. "I know he'll be back. He lives here." With a sigh, she made her way over to a stone bench. "You just don't understand. He
promised
me we would be together this morning. He said he had something to tell me."

Kendra sat beside her, her features lit with intrigue. "Any idea what?"

Slowly Cait drew her hat off and set it on the bench. Raking the long hair from her face, she watched a dove flutter from the sky and peck around in the grass, foraging for food. A fresh scent in the air hinted at coming rain, reminding her of home, but the thought did nothing to raise her spirits.

"You're hiding something," Kendra insisted. "I can tell."

"Are you always so observant?"

"Always," Kendra said smugly. "So what is it?"

"This is going to sound daft." Cait licked her lips and smoothed the skirts of the blue day dress she'd borrowed from Kendra. Until the Gothards were caught, she felt safer disguised as an Englishwoman. "I realize we've known each other less than ten days, your brother and I, but I thought…well, I thought maybe he'd be asking me to marry him."

Kendra clapped her hands. "I knew it!"

"Nay, you don't understand." Tears sprang to Caithren's eyes—oh, how she hated that. She brushed at them angrily. "He made such a point of saying we'd talk in the morning. Then he disappeared." She turned on the bench to face Kendra. "I was wrong. He only wanted to tell me we cannot be together. But he lost his nerve, or just decided something else was more important."

Her new friend reached to take her hands. "Maybe you misunderstood about this morning."

Cait shook her head. "Impossible."

"Then something unexpected came up." Kendra's fingers squeezed tight. "I'm sure of it. Didn't you say you needed some papers for your brother? I'll wager he wanted to take care of that before he talked to you. And when he does, it won't be to say you cannot be together."

"It doesn't matter what he went to do or what he's going to say." Caithren pulled her hands from Kendra's and hugged herself. "I hadn't made up my mind, anyway."

Jason's sister fixed her with a penetrating stare. "Oh, yes, you had." She smoothed her own apple-green skirts. "Whether you know it or not."

Uncomfortable under that gaze, Caithren rose and resumed walking.

Kendra jumped up to follow. "How is your arm today?"

"It's healing." Cait shook her head in disbelief. "After English doctoring. I never would have thought it."

"They say never trust an English surgeon. Quacks, one and all." Kendra grinned. "How was it cut? You said you would tell me."

A small smile threatened to burst through her melancholy. "I never said anything of the sort. You said you would ask." She took a deep breath. "Wat Gothard nicked me with his sword. We think he was going after your brother."

"He was?" Kendra stopped dead on the path, her face a mask of concern. "Maybe Jason went after Gothard. What if he's not here because he's hurt?"

"Hurt?" Cait echoed numbly. "He was going to warn Scarborough today, but he said nothing about chasing down Gothard. He doesn't know where to find him. We don't know if he's even in London."

She couldn't bear to think of Jason hurt. He didn't want her, and he didn't want to tell her, either. That was all there was to it. He would have said something were he planning to go after Gothard.

Kendra was still watching her, as though waiting to be reassured. Suppressing her own unease, Cait touched her friend's arm. "Your brother didn't go chasing after Gothard this morning." When Kendra still looked wary, Cait forced a smile. Surely there was nothing to be worried about. "I'm certain of it. You yourself said he wasn't after revenge."

Kendra nodded, apparently placated. "Still, I cannot believe you were injured. It sounds so romantic, being saved by the man you love." She leaned against the rail that edged the path, her eyes lit with envy. "My life is so boring. What sort of adventures have you two been up to?"

So much had happened, Cait didn't know where to begin. And she couldn't bear retelling all the events that had brought her to admire and love Jason in such a short time. It hurt too much. "Your brother brought me from up north to here. A long, tiring journey. Things happened."

"Things." Kendra's voice sounded speculative, but she let the matter drop. "At least tell me what you meant last night when you said you hadn't cared properly for your cut. What could you have done that the doctor didn't?"

"There are healing plants, but—"

"You've knowledge of healing?" When Cait nodded, she looked excited. "Could you teach me, then? I visit the sick at Cainewood, but sometimes I don't know what to do for them, and—"

"It takes years to learn." Cait reached to pluck a leaf off a low-hanging branch overhead. "I cannot teach you in an afternoon."

"When you come to live at Cainewood—"

"I don't think that will be happening." Walking again, she shredded the leaf and avoided her friend's eyes. "Your brother doesn't love me, Kendra. Or at least not enough. I'm naught but an annoyance to him."

She knew that wasn't precisely true, but she didn't know how to put it. She only knew that if Jason wanted her, he would have been with her this morning as he'd promised.

A Chase promise is not given lightly.
If he'd ever considered marrying her, he must have had serious second thoughts. Now, even should he return and ask her to wed him, she couldn't say aye. Not knowing as she did that he had doubts.

Maybe this "adventure" had changed her mind about what she wanted from life. But for her, it was all or nothing. She knew he bore guilt for taking her outside of marriage, but that was no reason to wed. A half-commitment would never do. Even should she be pregnant—a possibility after last night—she wouldn't marry him unless she was positive she had his love.

She adored children, and she'd feel blessed to have one, in or out of wedlock. Cameron could stand in as a father figure. People would whisper, but she'd never been conventional anyway.

It was a gray day, to match her mood, even darker along the paths where the trees met overhead and cast their shadows. She walked beside Kendra, listening to her own thoughts and snatches of conversation from passersby. When they scooted to the side to let a wizened old vendor pass with his barrow, he nodded to them and recited a little verse.

Buy marking stones, marking stones buy,
Much profit in their use doth lie;
I've marking stones of color red,
Passing good, or else black lead.

"Thank you, no." Kendra smiled, and the aged peddler went on. "Marking stones," she mused. "That man will be scrambling for business soon, if Jason has his way."

"Aye?" Caithren could barely muster interest, but she couldn't be rude.

"He's set some cottagers at Cainewood to making pencils from the graphite mined on the property."

"What's a pencil?"

"A long strip of graphite encased in wood. You write with it, like a quill, but you don't have to dip it. You just sharpen it, instead. Jason heard they were being made in Cumberland and traveled there to see. There is nothing he won't do to make Cainewood profitable. The Roundheads ran it into the ground while it was in their hands—when Charles restored the title and lands, Jason had to start from scratch." Her heels clicked on the hard dirt path. "My brother is an admirable sort, don't you think?"

"All this new knowledge of Jason is a wee bit much," Cait admitted. "I spent our whole journey trying to puzzle him out, and then when I finally reckoned I understood him…yesterday I discovered he's a completely different man than I thought."

"No, he's not." As they walked, Kendra ran a hand along the low fence beside her. "You may be surprised to find him titled and a man of means, but inside, he's exactly the man you saw. Or what you've made him to be." She stopped and leaned against the rail. "You've changed him, Cait. In good ways."

"I don't know…"

"Come, they sell lemonade on the other side of the square. I'll treat you." Kendra linked her arm through Cait's. "With or without brandy?"

"Definitely with," Cait said dryly.

The lemonade was cool and bracing. They walked around the fields for a spell, drinking and chatting, and after a while Cait started to feel better. Children ran circles around them, their harried mothers not far behind. Street balladers were there to entertain, as well as violinists and one lone bagpiper that made Caithren's heart swell.

She touched her amulet, rubbing her fingers over the smooth rectangular emerald. Tonight was the wedding. She'd best head back to the house to ready herself.

"May I borrow another gown for tonight?"

"Of course." Kendra eyed her assessingly. "I've a lovely one in yellow that I think will just fit."

"I'm sure it will do. Whether Jason returns or nay, I must go to Lord Darnley's wedding to meet up with Adam." By force of habit her hand went into her pocket, to feel for his portrait and pull it out.