Journey's End (Gilded Promises) (14 page)

Caroline had made sure to organize them in chronological order.

Tired eyes scanned across the page, her grandfather’s face devoid of all expression, or at least none that Caroline could make out. Turning over the letter, he continued to read. After a moment, he checked the postmark, then replaced the letter in its corresponding envelope and set it on a table beside him.

The next letter received the same meticulous attention. He repeated the process over and over again until he came to the bottom of the stack.

When he looked up at Caroline, tears shone in his eyes. Several slid down his cheeks. He made no attempt to wipe them away.

Caroline’s mouth went dry, the salty taste of her own tears on her tongue. She’d sat across a poker table from every kind of player imaginable. She could spot a good bluff in record time.

This old man was not bluffing.

And she’d done that to him. She’d brought upon him this unspeakable pain. Revolted by her own behavior, she could no longer hold her own tears at bay. She swiped at her eyes before they spilled down her face.

“Libby tried to contact me.” His voice was so full of pain that Caroline’s heart clutched. “I thought she ran off with that boy and never looked back. I never understood why. She was happy in this home. Her desertion never made sense.”

Desertion. Her grandfather thought his daughter had run off with a man and abandoned her own family when that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“I have never seen these letters before tonight.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “I had no idea she was in such desperate need. What she must have thought of my silence.”

God help her, Caroline believed her grandfather’s sorrow. How well she knew that sort of unspeakable pain.

Her breathing quickened, cutting off her ability to draw in a decent pull of air. She took short, painful gulps. Her skin iced over as wisps of dismay shot through her.

She’d planned this night for months, expecting to meet a hard, ruthless man with no forgiveness in his heart. A man who deserved punishment. She’d told herself she’d come for justice for her mother, and maybe even for herself. But she knew the truth now. She’d come for revenge.

Bile rose in her throat. She was a terrible, terrible person. One who deserved to be tossed out of this house.

A sob rushed out of her.

She dashed to her grandfather and collapsed at his feet. Placing her palms on his knees, she looked at him through her watery vision. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I thought you abandoned her,
us
. I came to America hating you.”

Two strong hands, grizzled with age, covered hers and clasped gently. “What you must have suffered all these years.”

The genuine kindness sent the tears spilling down her cheeks. “I . . . you should know why I really came here tonight. I came to make you pay for your sins.” Shame clogged the breath in her throat. “Forgive me.”

Chapter Fourteen

Jackson didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong in this room where a fractured family reunited after decades of lost communication and misunderstandings.

No, not misunderstandings. That wasn’t the right term for the treachery that had kept a father from his daughter, and a granddaughter from knowing her family. The very same woman who had just begged for forgiveness from the man she’d come to make pay for his sins.

Jackson believed Caroline’s remorse. He saw the way she trembled, even as she kept her shoulders stiff and unyielding. The latter was a sure sign she refused to let down her guard completely. He couldn’t blame her for that. Someone in this house had deliberately seized nearly three dozen letters addressed to Richard. But who?

Who stood to gain from such a heinous act?

Several people came to mind, all of them present this evening. Jackson would uncover the identity of the culprit.

For Richard. And, perhaps, for Caroline as well.

He owed her that much for his earlier suspicions. Although, as it turned out, he’d been right to suspect her motives. By her own admission, she’d come here to ruin Richard, her own
grandfather
.

Jackson tried to drum up disapproval. He couldn’t.

If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he understood the kind of anger that had driven her to seek revenge. Hadn’t he dealt with similar feelings when his father had first betrayed his family? Hadn’t he struggled against allowing his hurt to turn into hate through the years?

Would Caroline find healing one day? Would she be able to forgive whoever had set out to harm her mother?

Would Richard?

The two were still holding hands, still speaking in splintered sentences, talking over one another. Both were equally emotional. Jackson couldn’t hear all the words passing between them and silently accepted that he wasn’t supposed to. He was intruding, but he wasn’t sure he should leave Richard alone with his granddaughter yet.

Caroline St. James seemed genuinely remorseful. Jackson wanted to believe her reaction, more than he knew was wise. Someone had to keep a clear head. Someone had to remain impartial. And that someone was Jackson.

First order of business, he had to prevent a scandal from igniting over Caroline’s sudden arrival. Not a simple task, but doable. Unless . . .

What if she still sought revenge for her mother, if not on her grandfather, then on the one who had intercepted Libby’s letters? Would she destroy her own family in the process? News of her initial reason for coming to America would be enough fodder for the gossips.

Jackson knew his duty. At this point, nothing should change. As before, he would keep a close eye on Caroline and reserve judgment pending further information.

The letters were the best place to begin. He needed to get a look at them, perhaps study each of the postmarks. Where they’d originated was important, especially if he was going to keep word of this from getting out.

For now, it was time to quit the room.

Slowly, as quietly as possible, he took a step toward the exit. Richard looked up, a vague expression of surprise on his face. “Jackson, you are still here.”

“I am just leaving. Is there anything you need before I depart?” He dropped his gaze to the stack of letters in Richard’s lap. “Anything, perhaps, you wish for me to look into for you?”

He was tempted to be more specific but decided against the idea.

“Not at the moment, no.” Richard’s hand flattened over the stack of letters. “Later, yes, but not now. Not tonight.”

Jackson nodded. Before he turned to go, he glanced in Caroline’s direction. Her eyes, dark with emotion, met his. She looked so young, vulnerable, and unbearably innocent that his heart dipped in his chest. On some primitive level, he wanted to steal her away from this house, from these people who had caused her such pain.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Caroline?” He remembered the maid awaiting her return at the Waldorf-Astoria. “Anyone you wish for me to contact?”

A thousand words passed between them, none of which he understood.

She lowered her lashes and sighed. “Thank you, no.”

“Very well.”

Pivoting on his heel, he left the room without a backward glance. Alone in the hallway, he debated whether to wait until the two emerged or go in search of the rest of the family.

There would be questions, most of which Jackson couldn’t answer. But they deserved to know Richard was safe in Caroline’s company.

Decision made, he headed down the hallway. His steps slowed, then stopped altogether. Another second and reality set in. He’d come here tonight to begin his courtship of Elizabeth. He’d planned to make his intentions known, if not to the family, then to her.

With all that had happened, Jackson couldn’t think about courting her now. Following hard on the heels of that thought came the memory of Caroline’s soulful eyes, eyes filled with sorrow and confusion.

Something deep within him shifted away from Elizabeth and moved toward Caroline.

No.

No.

“I want Elizabeth,” he muttered. She was his perfect match, the woman destined to bear his children one day.

And yet . . . the image didn’t fit so well tonight.

Had it ever?

Holding back a growl, he caught sight of the St. James butler waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase.

Jackson took a moment to clear his thoughts, but only a moment, then finished his descent and paused beside the stiff-backed servant.

“The guests are awaiting you in the dining room, Mr. Montgomery.”

Somewhat surprised at this, Jackson lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Your grandmother and mother arrived not long after Mr. Griffin. When it became clear that not all of your party would be joining the others, your grandmother took charge of the situation.”

At this bit of information, Jackson couldn’t hold back a smile. Of course his grandmother had taken charge. Even though it wasn’t her place and this wasn’t her home, Hattie Montgomery would have assessed the situation, taken note of the tension among the St. James family, and then done what needed to be done.

“Will you be joining the rest of your party in the dining room, Mr. Montgomery?”

“Yes, thank you, Aldrich. I know the way.”

“Very good, sir.”

Quickening his steps, Jackson found himself looking forward to his grandmother’s calming presence. Once a great beauty, Hattie Montgomery still possessed a grand style and sophisticated elegance that suited her eighty-seven years. She knew her own mind, never caring what others thought of her
or
her family, not even at the height of the scandal regarding her son’s behavior. Jackson had tried to emulate her response through the years.

He entered the dining room, and all eyes turned in his direction. All eyes, that was, except those belonging to Elizabeth and Luke. They had their heads bent together and were embroiled in a low, hushed conversation.

Jackson wasn’t sure what to think of that. Was he jealous?

Oddly enough, no.

“Sit down, Jackson, you have missed the first three courses already.” His mother’s voice held unmistakable censure.

Glancing at Lucille Montgomery’s pursed lips and dark, angry eyes, Jackson had the sensation of being caught in the path of a coiled viper. Uncharacteristic rebellion rose up fast and hard.

“I was unavoidably detained.” He did not elaborate.

Clearly shocked at his cold response, his mother opened her mouth, probably to express her disapproval, but his grandmother spoke over her. “Do sit down, my boy.”

Moving deeper into the room, he took in the rest of the guests. His grandmother presided at the head of the table. Marcus and his wife, Katherine, sat on her right. Because Luke had taken Jackson’s customary seat beside Elizabeth on Hattie’s left, he chose the empty chair beside his mother.

Elizabeth looked up when he sat. Her cheeks were flushed with emotion. Jackson had never seen the girl quite so animated.

“Is it true?” she asked in a rush, her usual calm serenity replaced with untold excitement. “Is Caroline Harding my cousin?”

He saw no reason to withhold the truth from her now. After the reunion he’d witnessed upstairs, Jackson had no doubt Richard would immediately bring Caroline into the family fold. “Yes, she is.”

“Oh.
Oh
. I have a cousin. Not as good as a sister, but wonderful all the same.” Elizabeth clapped her hands together happily, then set her gaze on the doorway. “Where is she? Isn’t she joining us?”

“And more to the point,” Katherine said, her gaze secured to the doors as well, “is Richard joining us?”

“Yes, son,” his own mother chimed in, her interest inappropriate since this was a family matter. A
St. James
family matter. “Where
is
Richard this evening? This was supposed to be his party.”

Before Jackson could answer, Marcus added his own question. “Do we know the girl is who she says she is?”

“Yes.” Jackson nodded. This question was the easiest to answer. “She has proof.”

“Oh, how exciting. What sort of proof?” Elizabeth asked, her eager, wide-eyed gaze full of harmless curiosity. At least one person in this house would openly welcome Caroline into the family. The knowledge had Jackson breathing easier.

“I’ll let Richard fill you in on the details when it is only family in attendance.” Temper primed, he looked pointedly at his mother, willing her to keep from engaging in the discussion any further.

He could see her mind working and knew what she was thinking. The return of a long-lost granddaughter would be the talk of town. The news would spread quickly. If not handled correctly, the rumors could turn nasty. All the more reason to withhold Caroline’s original intent for coming to America, even from her own family.
Especially
from her own family.

Best only he and Richard knew the truth.

Dinner continued into the next course. Speculation at the table heated up, centering on what Caroline and Richard could possibly be discussing in private.

Jackson gave nothing away. The story was not his to tell.

After dessert, the party congregated back in the blue drawing room. Jackson joined the other guests. He would have preferred to seek out Caroline and Richard, but he knew the others in this room were waiting for their return as well. Jackson couldn’t predict how the meeting between grandfather and granddaughter would play out.

For Richard’s sake, Jackson needed to be in attendance for whatever happened next.

Luke settled in a seat between Marcus and Jackson’s grandmother. Ever the loyal friend, he proceeded to regale the room with tales from his time in London.

Elizabeth stopped him halfway through the first story. “Did you happen to meet Caroline in London?”

“No.” Luke glanced at Jackson a moment. “But I was there primarily to work. I didn’t attend many parties.”

“But when you did,” Elizabeth pressed, “you mean to say you never met my cousin?”

Feeling oddly protective of Caroline, Jackson opened his mouth to redirect the conversation. Luke changed the subject on his own.

Grateful that his friend controlled the conversation, Jackson moved to the other side of the room. Lost in thought, he placed a foot on the hearth and leaned his forearm on the mantelpiece.

He didn’t have long to enjoy his moment of peace before his mother joined him. She stood ramrod straight and had the familiar pinch to her face.

He braced himself.

“The news of Richard’s granddaughter should cause quite a stir among our friends, especially since she didn’t reveal her connection when she first arrived in this country.” A distorted smile spread across her lips. “One has to assume there is a reason she withheld her identity, and not a good one.”

Jackson said nothing. What could he say? His mother was correct. On all accounts. And if a tale was scandalous enough—which this one most definitely was—then the good people of New York would take their time dissecting every sordid detail. Conclusions would be drawn, none of them good, most of them wrong.

Ugly twists would then be added, especially if word got out about the intercepted letters. Caroline would be rejected from every respectable home in New York before she’d had a chance to prove herself. The unfairness was not lost on Jackson. Someone in this room had deliberately destroyed Libby St. James, and consequently Caroline.

His mother’s voice broke through his thoughts again. “If this does get out”—she drew in a harsh breath—“the St. James name will never be the same.”

Yes, Jackson knew this, too, and silently vowed to do whatever was necessary to prevent such a disaster from occurring.

“You do realize, son,” his mother said, glancing over her shoulder, “that dear Elizabeth, the poor girl, will not come away unscathed.”

Hours ago, Jackson would have railed against the injustice of choosing a respectable woman to wed, only to lose her to the very sort of scandal he’d set out to avoid. Of course, that was before he’d witnessed Richard’s sorrow over the fate of his daughter. Not to mention his corresponding joy over having regained a portion of her in the form of his granddaughter.

Under the circumstances, there was only one thing for Jackson to do. Protect the St. James family from censure. Not for himself or his own gain, but for the man who had always accepted him in this home. From the start, in those early days after Jackson’s father had left town, Richard St. James had shown the rest of society what true grace looked like.

It was Jackson’s turn to do the same.