Journey's End (Gilded Promises) (22 page)

“Jackson has been diligent in his duty,” Granny said. “He adds important works as they become available. A library must keep up with the changing times, don’t you agree?”

“I do.”

Jackson’s mother sniffed indelicately. It was not an attractive sound. “How very progressive of you both.”

Granny ignored the jab. “Jackson spends hours up there when he can find the time.”

Another thing they had in common. She could envision them in the library at night, reading, a fire crackling in the hearth, a comfortable silence filling the space between them.

She shook away the fanciful thought. “Would you mind if I explored the contents of the shelves myself? I won’t take any book beyond the library, but if I could read one or two”—
or ten
—“I would be in your debt.”

Again, Granny gave her that look of approval. “You may enjoy the library anytime you wish.”

“Thank you, Granny. I—” She clasped the older woman’s hand and squeezed.
“Thank you.”

Conversation turned to the unseasonably warm weather, whereupon Jackson’s mother began another listing of complaints.

Deciding it was best to remain silent on the matter, Caroline focused on her food. Her mind took her upstairs, to the library full of books she had yet to read. It would take her a lifetime to work her way through all the choices available. What should she read first? A biography? A travel story? An adventure tale, perhaps?

“Now, my dear, do tell.” Granny’s voice wove through her thoughts, bringing her back to the table. “Have you decided what you will wear to the VanDercreeks’ party? It will be somewhat of your official debut as Richard’s granddaughter.”

Caroline hadn’t thought of the party in quite that way. She would have to be careful with her choice. Consulting Sally would be her first order of business. For now, she admitted, “I haven’t decided yet.”

“May I add my opinion?” Granny asked.

“Please, do.”

“You should wear blue, a deep, rich shade of blue with, perhaps, ivory trim.”

Caroline had a gown that met that description. She hadn’t worn it yet, so no one at the party would have cause to criticize her choice. Elizabeth’s words came back to her.
A woman of fine breeding should never be caught in the same gown twice.

Had Caroline become so much a part of this world that she was becoming a snob like Elizabeth’s mother? She shuddered at the prospect.

This wasn’t about her, she reminded herself. For her grandfather’s sake she didn’t want to draw unwanted attention her way. “I have a dress that color.”

Satisfaction filled the older woman’s gaze. “Splendid. Then that is the one you will wear.”

Granny seemed so certain that Caroline couldn’t hold back her curiosity. “Out with it, Granny. Why should I wear my blue gown?”

“I should think it quite obvious.” The gleam in the older woman’s eyes turned calculating. “Blue is Jackson’s favorite color.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jackson arrived at the Harvard Club with his mind still entrenched at his grandmother’s house. Or rather, his mind was still in the alcove in his grandmother’s house—firmly fixed on a certain raven-haired beauty with exotic green eyes, a mesmerizing voice, and a propensity to sneak beneath his well-laid defenses.

Whenever he was alone with Caroline St. James, his control slipped, every time, whereby he found himself acting out of character. Pulling her into his arms.

Kissing her.

He pushed into the foyer of the club, shoulders tense, head down. He’d worked too hard to make his life his own, had struggled too long to restore his family name to continue down this path. Ruthless discipline was the only thing keeping him in line. He was already on shaky ground. If he continued to give in to his selfish desires where Caroline was concerned, he might end up on a path from which there was no turning back.

One false step had a way of leading to another, and another, until one day Jackson would become a man no better than his father, a man who took what he wanted without considering the consequences or thinking beyond his own selfish desires.

Caroline St. James was a menace. A frustrating, annoying, beautiful, heart-stopping temptation he couldn’t seem to keep at arm’s distance. She would be his downfall if he didn’t get a handle on his renowned control.

Regardless of what his actions had shown in the last few days, Jackson still wanted a calm, respectable marriage to a calm, respectable woman whose serene manner exemplified the best of his world.

Caroline St. James was not that woman. She was the consummate rule-breaker, the absolute opposite of her cousin, Elizabeth.

Elizabeth.

Jackson hadn’t thought of her since Caroline had materialized at the top of the stairs in his grandmother’s home.

In desperate need of a distraction, he strode into the billiards room and searched out a possible opponent. He found just the man at the back of the room, propping up the wall with a broad shoulder.

Jackson approached his friend. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here this evening.” He studied Luke’s scowl, wondered at it. “Shouldn’t you be at a party or the opera or some such formal event, choosing your future bride?”

Luke’s expression turned murderous. “Mind your own business, Montgomery.”

“The hunt going that well, is it?”

Clearly frustrated and spoiling for a fight, Luke shifted his stance to one full of aggression.

Jackson simply smiled.

“Word’s gotten out as to the reason behind my return.”

Jackson nodded gravely. “How’d that happen?”

Not a blink. Not even a shrug. “My father made a public announcement at the opera the other night.” Luke’s lip curled. “Now, every event I attend, I’m swarmed with women—and their calculating mothers—within minutes of arriving.”

Jackson almost felt sorry for his friend, but he remembered their days back at Harvard. Luke had never had a problem drawing female notice, nor had he turned any of that “notice” away, quite the opposite in fact. Lucian Griffin liked women—he’d never pretended otherwise—and they liked him in return. “How is now any different than before your father’s public announcement?”

Luke gave him a hard glare, the unspoken message just as loud and clear as before.
Mind your own business.

“I see.” Chuckling, Jackson craned his neck, looked side to side, then lowered his voice. “I assume you are hiding out from all that unwanted female attention?”

“Laugh if you will.” Luke shot him a smug glower. “We both know you’re here for the same reason.”

“I’m not hiding.”

Luke gave him a bland look.

“All right, maybe I am.” A table became open. Jackson jerked his head in that direction. “You want to play a game of billiards or keep propping up that wall?”

“You break first.”

Jackson shoved around Luke and made a grand show of choosing a cue stick. Hard on his heels, Luke followed suit, aiming another smug grin in his direction. “You can lie to yourself but not to me. You, my friend, are having your own woman trouble. And we both know who I mean.”

With slow, deliberate movements, Jackson rubbed chalk on the edge of his stick and then tossed the cube in the air.

Luke caught it midair. “What? No response? No ready denial?” He arranged the balls inside the wooden triangle, shuffled them tightly to the top. “No pretense that you have no idea to what woman I’m referring?”

Pretending grave interest in their game, Jackson placed the white cue ball on his end of the table, pulled back his stick, and then smacked the ball with a hard tap.

Three stripes and one solid fell into separate pockets at varying speeds.

“Perhaps you should just say what’s on your mind.” Jackson sauntered around the table, chose his next target, pointed to the far right pocket, then struck the white cue ball again. “Who, exactly, are we talking about here?”

Jackson knew, of course. But did Luke?

He lined up his next shot, missed.

His friend moved into position, opened his mouth, glanced around to see if anyone was listening, then said, “I’m talking about the woman Richard St. James has hired to work in the company office.”

Jackson stilled. “How did you know about that? Are people talking?”
Already?

“Not that I’m aware, no.” Luke took the shot. “I only know about Richard’s arrangement with his granddaughter because her cousin told me.”

A hot ball of dread stuck in the center of Jackson’s chest. Elizabeth had discussed Caroline with Luke? “Was anyone else around when you two had this particular conversation?”

Eyes on the billiard table, Luke circled to the other side. “I haven’t heard any gossip if that’s what you’re asking.”

Relieved, Jackson let out a slow breath. After all she’d been through as a child, Caroline didn’t deserve to be weighed and measured, condemned even, before she made her own way in society. She ought to have a chance to prove to the good people of New York that she was smart and talented and moral, despite her rough upbringing.

“Are you going to keep staring over my shoulder with that cornered look on your face, or are we going to play billiards?” Luke pointed to the table. “It’s your shot.”

Shaking his head, Jackson moved slowly around the table, choosing the most likely avenue for success. He placed his cue stick between his fingers. “Have you heard
any
talk about Caroline?”

“A bit, and before you ask, it’s all been relatively positive at this point. Her grandfather wields considerable power in this town. No one would dare openly criticize her in public.”

But in private would they be so kind? Jackson hated that he didn’t know the answer, hated that he couldn’t control what was said behind Caroline’s back.

Luke leaned on his stick. “That’s not what I meant, you know, when I referred to your woman troubles.”

“I know.”

“It’s the way you look at her, Jackson. Dead giveaway to what’s on your mind.”

Jackson’s wrist jerked, sending the cue ball at an odd angle and straight into the pocket on his left.

A look of supreme satisfaction filled Luke’s eyes as he reached in the pocket and retrieved the ball.

“What is it you think you see?”

Luke smirked. “Do I really need to spell it out?”

There was something in Luke’s tone, something that had Jackson setting down his stick. “Why do I get a sense you have a stake in this?”

“We aren’t talking about me.”

“Maybe we should.”

Luke shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Don’t avoid the issue, my friend. You have your eye on Caroline St. James.”

Jackson’s stomach roiled, dread making his breathing slow and awkward. Luke had to be fishing. “You ascertained that from witnessing a few brief encounters between Caroline and me.”

“I’m observant.”

“Not that observant.”

Avoiding eye contact, Luke sank the next three balls. “I should warn you, Jackson, Elizabeth noticed, too.”

For the second time that day, the floor shifted beneath his feet. His feeling of dread morphed in to guilt. “You spoke of this with Elizabeth?” His tone was razor-sharp.

Setting his stick on the table, Luke crossed his arms over his chest and stared hard at Jackson. “She was the one who pointed it out to me.”

The revelation staggered him. Everything in him turned hot then ice-cold. Elizabeth. He’d all but betrayed the woman he’d been planning to marry, with her own cousin. He was no better than his father. In fact, he was worse. Unlike Edward Montgomery, Jackson had known from the start the consequences of his actions. Yet he’d ignored caution and had rationalized his behavior. He’d acted selfishly and had hurt a woman he cared about deeply.

For as long as Jackson could remember, Elizabeth had been his future.
Had been.
As in past tense. He was thinking of Elizabeth in the past tense and had been for some time, as if his intentions had changed toward her long before tonight. His friendship for Elizabeth hadn’t been enough to keep Jackson from reaching for something . . . more.

For several long seconds he couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. He felt his world shattering around him, splintering into pieces he would never be able to put back together.

Luke continued to hold his stare, a challenge in his eyes. The man knew. He knew Jackson was having second thoughts about marrying Elizabeth. But how could he know, when Jackson had only come to the conclusion in the last few minutes?

Breaking eye contact, Jackson glanced around the room. Noticing they’d drawn unnecessary attention, he motioned Luke to follow him to the library, where they could continue their conversation in private.

Once they were settled near the fireplace, with only a handful of elderly gentlemen smoking cigars and drinking port on the other side of the room, he restated his earlier question. “Elizabeth noticed my interest in Caroline?”

“Actually”—Luke dug the toe of his boot in a crack in the stone hearth—“she thinks you two are very much alike in nature.” He held up a palm to ward off Jackson’s objection. “Her words, not mine.”

“Elizabeth thinks Caroline and I are . . . alike?” The assessment took Jackson by surprise. They were nothing alike.

Or were they?

Another wave of unease clogged his throat.

The fact that Elizabeth had made her own assessment of his relationship with her cousin was disturbing enough. But to discover she’d discussed the situation with Luke? Jackson found that far more troubling.

Elizabeth had shared her intimate thoughts with a man other than Jackson.
And you were kissing her cousin. What does that say about you?

Jackson swallowed back a growl. “When did you and Elizabeth discuss this matter?”

“At the opera last night.”

Last night. Elizabeth had been at the opera with Luke.

Had they gone together? No, Luke’s parents owned the box directly across from Marcus’s.

Without Jackson’s encouragement, Luke went on to explain. “I was bored out of my mind,” he said. “Like I always am at the opera. I noticed Elizabeth staring up at the ceiling. I couldn’t figure out what had captured her attention.” Luke shrugged. “I decided to find out.”

“By joining her in her father’s box.”

Luke gave him a grin. “Naturally.”

There was something of the old Luke in that smile, in that droll tone.

“Go on,” Jackson urged when his friend remained silent.

“Turns out, Elizabeth was counting the seams in the plaster on the ceiling. Did you know she hates
Figaro
as much as I do?”

Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose. “Elizabeth told me she loves that particular opera.”

That had Luke falling into silence. Jackson did so as well. Elizabeth had told two different stories to two different men. Had she lied to Jackson, or to Luke? Either way, Jackson realized he didn’t know Elizabeth St. James as well as he’d thought.

Tonight, it would seem, was a night for revelations.

“Jackson.” Luke sat in the chair across from him and set his elbows on his knees. “I have to ask you a question, and I request that you tell me the truth.”

“All right.”

“Are you going to ask Elizabeth to marry you?”

“I . . .” Was he? “No.” It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “I am not.”

Luke’s shoulders tightened and his eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “She deserves to know. You should tell her immediately.”

Yes, he should. Jackson splayed the fingers of his right hand and shoved them through his hair. “I will.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

Luke leaned forward. “See that you do.”

The invitations began arriving faster than Caroline could keep up. Sorting through them was a daunting task, one Granny had no tolerance for and Sally claimed was beyond her talents. Thus, the following morning, when Elizabeth and her mother appeared on Granny’s doorstep with a request to join them for tea, Caroline welcomed the distraction.

“Granny and I were just about to ring for a pot before you arrived,” she confirmed, thinking that now was as good a time as any to question her aunt about her relationship with Libby. “I’m sure she won’t mind two more.”