Journey's End (Gilded Promises) (20 page)

He balled his hands into fists to keep them from reaching out to her again. Madness. This was sheer madness.

“I won’t discuss this with you,” he said through a tight jaw. Not when he still wanted to drag her back in his arms and soothe away that sad look in her eyes.

“Fine. Ignore my advice, you stubborn man.” She tossed the words at him like a challenge. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He opened his mouth to argue yet another point with her, not precisely sure which one, but she turned her back on him.

“It’s time for you to leave.” She set her attention on folding some sort of shawl and then carefully setting it in a small drawer on the right side of the trunk.

“Caroline.”

“Are you still here?” she asked, barely glancing in his direction.

“I’ll leave when we’re finished.” He waited for her to look at him fully. When she didn’t, he continued as if she had. “I want to know where you will be living once you leave this hotel.”

She sighed. “At a perfectly respectable boarding house on the west side of town.”

Her answer didn’t surprise him. That didn’t mean he found her decision acceptable. Far from it.

“What?” She turned to look at him at last. “No comment on my choice?”

Oh, he had plenty to say. “I have a better idea.”

She gave him a quelling look. “I just bet you do.”

Holding back a retort, for both their sakes, he continued, “My grandmother lives in a mansion near your grandfather’s home, but not too near.”

“And your point?”

“My point is that she lives alone, with only her little dogs and her servants to keep her company. Although she would say otherwise, I fear she is lonelier than she lets on.”

She studied him. “And that worries you.”

“A great deal,” he admitted candidly. “I would like for you and your maid to move in to her home.”

“She has agreed to this.”

“Yes.” Or she would once Jackson explained the situation.

Caroline remained rooted to the spot. “What would you get out of this arrangement?”

“Peace of mind.”

“Indeed.” Lips pressed together, Caroline picked up another shawl and carefully folded it in the same manner as she had the one before.

At the sight of all that control, his anger reared up. “Not everyone is out to hurt you, Caroline.”

“So you say.” She placed the shawl in the same drawer as the first. “I can’t help but wonder. Is this offer of yours an attempt to keep an eye on me, or do you truly wish to provide your grandmother with female companionship?”

Debating how best to proceed, he took her hands and clasped them inside his. “What if I said both?”

“Then I would say this is the first time in our brief acquaintance that you are being completely honest with me.”

He laughed, though the sound came out rusty and a little tortured. “Move in to Wayfare House.”

“Wayfare House?”

“My grandmother’s home.”

“Her house has a name?”

“Say yes, Caroline,” he persisted. “The two of you will be good for each other.”

“You know, Montgomery, I should move in with your grandmother for no other reason than to keep an eye on
you
.”

He smiled. “Say yes, Caroline.”

“Let me think on it.”

“Say yes.”

“You aren’t going to relent, are you?”

“Say yes.”

“Oh, all right, yes.” She met his gaze, her hands shaking ever so slightly. “I will move into your grandmother’s home, if for no other reason than to torment you with my constant presence in your life.”

Chapter Twenty

Now that she’d had time to think on the matter, Caroline questioned the wisdom of agreeing to Montgomery’s proposition to move into his grandmother’s home. She’d fallen into a dangerous, albeit temporary, state of recklessness, brought on by the man’s unexpected, toe-curling kiss. He’d wormed past her defenses, the clever, talented rogue.

Sighing, Caroline touched her lips.

One kiss, nothing more than a simple meeting of lips, and she had lost perspective. The best course of action would be to move into the female-only boarding house as originally planned.

Nevertheless, by early evening of the next day, Caroline found herself settled in a delicious room on the second floor of Wayfare House. Sally was firmly in tow, installed just one room over. This would have been quite unconventional if Sally were truly her maid. The girl should be residing in the servants’ quarters in the designated wing beneath the kitchen.

But Caroline needed her closer. She
wanted
her closer, not only for her much-needed advice, but because she liked the young maid and was beginning to consider her a friend. Thus, she’d refused to listen to Sally’s arguments on the matter, pressing her own case until the girl had finally agreed to take the room adjoining Caroline’s.

As if materializing on cue, Sally entered Caroline’s bedchamber.

She smiled at the girl. “These accommodations are vastly different from the ones we left behind at the Waldorf-Astoria. What say you?”

“I agree.” Sally ran her palm along the marble mantelpiece lined with genuine gold, her expression thoughtful. “All these bits of finery are far grander than any I’ve ever seen. Where do you suppose such vast amounts of money came from?”

Caroline shared the maid’s awe. There was wealth. And then there was
wealth
.

“I have no idea.” She hadn’t dug that far into the Montgomery family history. Instead, she’d used her days at the library to focus solely on her grandfather. “Maybe I’ll ask Mrs. Montgomery. I wager she’ll tell me.”

Caroline had liked the matriarch upon their first meeting earlier that day. Despite their age difference, she’d felt a connection with the old girl that had filled her with a unique mix of affection, admiration, and security. A heady combination.

Sally released an audible sigh. “Do you ever listen to anything I say?” The maid planted her fists on narrow hips. “You can’t just ask Mrs. Montgomery that sort of question. It’s simply not done.”

The girl was really quite versed in what was and was not done. Caroline wondered where she’d received her plethora of information but feared her friend wouldn’t answer her truthfully if she asked.

“Oh, Sally. Normally I would submit to your superior knowledge on the subject.” Unable to resist, Caroline pulled the girl into a quick hug, as she’d done with her cousin just yesterday. Unlike Elizabeth, Sally resisted the warm exchange.

Releasing her, Caroline let out her own audible sigh. “I sense Montgomery’s grandmother is different from most society mavens.”

Sally pursed her lips. “I suppose we’ll find out which one of us is right soon enough.”

“No time like the present.” Caroline headed for the door. “Are you coming?”

“No. Absolutely not. It isn’t—”

“Yes, yes, I know. A maid joining the family for dinner simply isn’t done.”

“It’s not just that.” Sally lifted her chin at a stubborn angle. “Even if it was acceptable, I don’t want anything to do with these people, especially not your Mr. Montgomery.”

“He’s not
my
Mr. Montgomery. And what’s wrong with him?” Despite knowing how dangerous it was, Caroline was starting to rather like the handsome brute, although she only admitted that little piece of information silently to herself.

This change of heart had nothing to do with his kiss. She simply enjoyed matching wits with an intelligent man.

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with him. And that’s the problem. He’s really quite perfect. Handsome, smart, broad shouldered—he even looks me in the eye when he speaks to me. But he’s also . . . so . . . so . . .”

“Masculine?”

“I was going to say intimidating. All that easy charm, I don’t like it.” Palms up, Sally backed away as if there were a large snake hanging from the doorway, coiled and ready to strike. “And his grandmother scares me.”

“She’s a dear.” If one looked past the woman’s propensity for asking pointed, uncomfortable questions about one’s past, as she’d done when Caroline and Sally had first arrived at Wayfare House.

“All those little yappy dogs running around her.” Sally visibly quaked. “They bite.”

“Only one of them, and that was after you stepped on the poor thing’s tail.”

“That curlicue is not a tail.” Sally sniffed inelegantly, looking as haughty as any person Caroline had met in New York society. “No. I’ll not go downstairs with you. I’ll just finish unpacking, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Coward.” Caroline softened the accusation with a wink.

“You better believe I am.” They both laughed, the gesture relaxing Sally’s shoulders and encouraging Caroline to pull her into another stiff hug.

“Well, if you won’t join me, then I’m off to converse with the dear lady and her favorite grandson.” Caroline added the perfect amount of snobbery in her tone, the way Sally had taught her that first day.

Sally shoved her toward the door. “Go on with you, then.”

“Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone.” Tossing a wave over her head, she exited the room laughing. The sound died in her throat once she realized she didn’t know how to find her way back downstairs. The hallways in this ridiculously large house were a virtual labyrinth of twists and turns.

After five minutes of wandering around aimlessly, Caroline resorted to the trick she’d learned on unfamiliar streets in Whitechapel. Choosing a direction at random, she flattened her palm on the nearest wall and continued forward. If she didn’t break the connection, she would eventually find her way out of this complicated maze of hallways.

Just as she’d predicted, after doubling back a few times, she came to the top of the massive staircase at the front of the house.

Montgomery stood at the bottom, looking dangerously elegant in his formal attire. The black trousers, matching coat and tails, and starched white shirt should have made him look less threatening. No such luck.

Even with his arm casually looped over the banister and that easy expression on his face, he appeared alert, awake, a man who knew his place in the world.

That alone should help her keep her guard firmly in place.

Caroline, you aren’t alone anymore.
His words from yesterday echoed in her mind. He’d found her weakness and had slipped past every single defense she’d so carefully erected around her heart.

You aren’t alone anymore.

Could it be true? Oh, how she wanted it to be true. But it was dangerous to allow even a sliver of hope to form in her heart. The stakes were too high. She didn’t have a secure place in this world, and there was no guarantee that she would find one.

What if she failed? What if she disappointed her grandfather and he sent her packing?

You aren’t alone anymore.

Oh, but she was.

Eyes cast downward, she made her way to the bottom of the stairs at a slow, even pace and stopped on the last step. Eye to eye with Montgomery, she waited for him to say something. Anything.

“You look lovely this evening.” His eyes never left her face. “Although, I must admit, I prefer your hair down, the way you wore it yesterday, as opposed to”—he swept his gaze slightly upward—“your current style.”

She resisted the urge to touch her hair. “I was told this is the latest fashion.” Sally had been adamant, proving her point with a picture from a current American magazine.

“Perhaps, but it makes you look untouchable.”

“Then I shall wear my hair this way every day I am in your presence.”

A silent battle of wills commenced. Montgomery was good, holding her gaze with studied intensity. But Caroline was equally gifted in this particular skill, holding steadfast under his stare. She might have won the standoff but for the telling breath that escaped her lips.

He smiled at the sound, a flash of even white teeth beneath full, firm lips that had kissed her nearly senseless yesterday. Her heart dropped to her toes at the memory. Jackson Montgomery was a handsome, virile man at any time. But when he smiled like that? He was devastating.

She very nearly sighed but had the presence of mind to hold to her silence.

Still smiling, he offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Caroline took his arm and allowed him to lead her through the cavernous home. The sound of their shoes striking the parquet floors echoed off the walls, the rhythmic staccato matching her heartbeat.

“How are you finding your new home?” he asked, the perfect gentleman in his tone.

So they were back to innocuous pleasantries. She should be grateful. Actually, she
was
grateful. “Your grandmother has been very accommodating, the picture of kindness.”

“And what about your maid?” He lifted a sardonic eyebrow, the gesture indicating he was on to their game. “Is she getting on with the rest of the staff here at Wayfare House?”

Caroline pulled them to a stop just outside what looked to be a drawing room. Deciding candor was the best plan of attack, she drew in a slow pull of air. “Sally is not my maid, not in the traditional sense.” She angled her head and caught the amusement lurking in his eyes. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to admit the truth.”

“You think you have me figured out.” She spoke the words in a condescending tone, as if to insinuate he knew nothing about her, nothing at all. Unfortunately, he’d read her mother’s letters and thus knew far too much already.

“Not in the least, Caroline St. James.” He placed his lips next to her ear. “You are the most confounding, unpredictable woman I have ever met.”

She had to work hard at remaining cool, calm, the picture of serenity, when she wanted so much to smile in triumph. “So you say. Montgomery, I—”

“Caroline. Don’t you think at this point in our relationship you should call me Jackson?”

“All right,
Jackson
, you shouldn’t be saying such things to me.” She tried to frown at him. She really tried. “And, while we’re on the subject of inappropriate behavior. You must never, never ever, kiss me again.”

There. She’d said it. She’d made herself perfectly clear. A gentleman would have no other recourse than to abide by her request.

A voice drifted from the interior of the drawing room. “Are you two planning to spend all evening bantering with one another in the hallway, or are you going to come in here and entertain a lonely old woman?”

Montgomery chuckled. “We’ve been found out.” He whispered the words with his mouth still close to her ear. “Remember, nothing gets past my grandmother.” Genuine affection filled his voice. “She is a cagey old bird.”

With that warning hanging between them, he straightened and steered her into the drawing room.

Caroline swept her gaze in a quick circle, landing on a woman of indeterminate age with a pinched face, pale skin, and blue eyes several shades darker than her son’s. She sat perched on a chair with her back unnaturally straight. She wore all black, a color that leached her skin of any healthy glow and left her with a greenish pallor. With her face arranged in that off-putting scowl, she looked angry and bitter, a woman who had succumbed to the hardships of life.

This had to be Jackson’s mother; no other explanation made sense. Caroline had thought her own mother had been a bitter woman, too, but now, with this current example as a measuring stick, Caroline realized Libby St. James had merely been sad. Terribly, irrevocably sad. Yet she’d held on to her faith even in her final days.

Why hadn’t Caroline realized that sooner?

Of their own accord, her fingers dug into Jackson’s arm. He covered her hand in a show of support.

In the next instant, Caroline felt herself leaning into him.

“Caroline St. James.” He pulled her just a bit tighter to him. “I’d like you to meet my mother, Lucille Montgomery. Mother.” He spoke directly to the woman with the hard eyes. “This is Caroline St. James, Richard’s granddaughter from London.”

Face still scrunched in a frown, Jackson’s mother acknowledged Caroline with a brief nod.

“Well, girl, don’t just stand there gawking. Come, sit over here”—Hattie Montgomery patted a free space on the settee beside her—“and tell me how you’re settling in.”

As she had earlier in the day, the older woman held court from her oversized chair near the fireplace with at least half a dozen miniature Pomeranians cuddled in around her.

Grateful for the invitation, Caroline released Jackson’s arm and made her way toward his grandmother. She waded carefully through the six miniature balls of auburn-colored fur, aware that their small black eyes were focused solely on her.

The moment Caroline sat, one of the dogs crawled into her lap while two more pawed at her skirt at her feet. Smiling at their antics, Caroline leaned over, picked up both animals, and then set them in her lap with the other one.

It was a bit overcrowded on the settee with two grown women and an assortment of dogs, but no one seemed to mind, least of all Caroline. Deciding he’d been ignored long enough, one of the other three leapt up and licked her chin.

Caroline let out a giggle.
A giggle
. When had she ever giggled? But, truly, how could she not? These tiny, sweet-natured creatures were so different from the feral curs she’d encountered on the streets of London.

“They like you,” the older woman said, approval in her voice.

Caroline stroked the soft fur of the pampered pets on her lap. “It’s a mutual affection.”

Jackson’s mother sniffed. “They’re horrid little creatures.”

“Not completely horrid.” Jackson grabbed one of the three in Caroline’s lap. “They’re just miniature fur balls with big black eyes, sharp little teeth, and”—he lifted the dog above his head—“very fat bellies.”