Journey's End (Gilded Promises) (29 page)

Her face went slack, then pulled into the familiar scowl he’d grown to expect. “It was inevitable, I suppose.”

“What was inevitable?”

“That, in the end, you would choose an unsuitable wife.” Still frowning, she smoothed the wrinkles from the crumpled fabric in her lap, stabbed the needle into a random spot, and yanked hard on the loose thread. “It is as I’ve always feared. You are just like your father after all.”

Jackson was nothing like his father. Except perhaps he
was
like the man who’d sired him, at least in this particular instance.

The truth hit him with a force that nearly dropped him to his knees. After spending years working to restore his family’s good name, Jackson was going to buck tradition and follow in the footsteps of his rebel ancestors.

He wasn’t going to marry for propriety’s sake, or to please his mother, or anyone else for that matter. No, Jackson was going to marry for love.

Chapter Thirty

Caroline didn’t see Jackson again that day. When her grandfather had decided to stay home from the office—who could blame him, really?—she’d requested to do the same, hoping to spend some private time with him. They’d talked for hours, just the two of them, mostly about her mother and the various memories each of them had of the woman who’d been taken from them far too soon.

The day had brought its form of healing, a healing that had been coming on for some time, at least in Caroline’s case. Finally, with each story her grandfather told, she could think of her mother without the raging guilt or regret for what might have been. The sadness—oh, the sadness—that would be a part of her always. Such was the nature of grief.

In time, Caroline knew she would have to find it in her heart to forgive her aunt, but not today. Today, the pain was still too raw, the hurt too new, and Katherine’s lack of remorse too maddening.

Back in her room at Granny’s, with the sun finally setting on the day, Caroline began the arduous task of preparing for an evening at the opera. She was tired, emotionally wrung out, and really not in the mood for interacting with New York society. She had tears in her eyes again and, now that she was alone, she allowed them to spill down her cheeks.

She stared at herself in the mirror through her watery vision, her mind still in the drawing room at her grandfather’s house.

There had been a tense moment near lunchtime, when Marcus had interrupted. He’d only stayed awhile, using the opportunity to apologize for his wife’s behavior once again, as well as make a personal request of Caroline. “Would you do me the honor, my dear, of attending the opera with the rest of the family this evening?”

Caroline had gaped at him, quite unable to formulate a response. She could not bear—she really could not
bear
the idea of attending any function with her aunt present.

As if sensing where her mind had gone, her uncle had hastened to add, “It will be a small, intimate party. You, me, Elizabeth, and, of course”—he nodded to the other man in the room—“you are welcome to join as well, Father.”

With that additional information, and her grandfather’s quick acceptance of the invitation, Caroline had agreed to attend the opera with her family.

My family.

She lifted a shaky hand to her throat and sighed. How far she’d come from the girl who’d stoically endured the merciless registration process at Ellis Island. Angry at the world, and at God, Caroline had come to America to seek vengeance for her mother.

She’d found forgiveness instead. And love, familial love, with her grandfather, who in a very short time had become the earthly, albeit flawed, model of her Heavenly Father’s perfect love. She would treasure every year she had with Richard St. James and make up for the time they’d lost.

Caroline picked up her hairbrush and twirled it around in her hand. Heat rose to her cheeks. Could she dare to hope that she’d also found romantic love with a man who knew the worst of her and still seemed to accept her as she was?

Yes,
yes
, she dared to hope. And that was the greatest blessing of all.

Beauty from ashes. So much to be grateful for in her life these days, so much to thank God for.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

Her heart pounded with satisfaction. Although she was tired, she was looking forward to attending the opera with her family. Her family!

“Truly, Caroline.” Sally wrestled the brush from her hand and gave her a quick appraisal. “I cannot decide if you are a slow learner or just plain stubborn.”

She grinned at her friend, realizing how much she’d grown to care for the girl. “Perhaps I am a little of both.”

“Now
that
, I believe.” Setting her hands on Caroline’s shoulders, Sally turned her around to face her directly. “You’ve been crying.”

Sighing, Caroline wiped at her eyes. “Only a little.”

“You are sad.”

She forced a smile. “Only a little.”

Sally pursed her lips and let her eyes wander over Caroline’s face. “Perhaps you should stay in tonight.”

The thought had merits. The events of the day had worn her out. But Caroline wanted to spend the evening with her family, even if that meant enduring the rest of New York society as well. If she was to embrace this new life of hers, she must learn to appreciate all the various facets, and that included attending the opera in her uncle’s private box. Where the good people of New York would watch her every move.

No matter. She would have her family with her tonight, and perhaps Jackson, too.

She gave a small sigh and turned back toward the mirror. “I’ll be fine, Sally. But thank you for your concern.”

Nodding, Sally began pulling the brush through Caroline’s hair. As she’d done many times over the last week, she watched the maid arrange her dark, unruly curls in a sophisticated knot atop her head, marveling at the girl’s skill.

Hair coiffed, Caroline rose from the table. As Sally tugged and smoothed each layer of clothing into place, anticipation spread through her. A new beginning. She was embarking on a new beginning, starting tonight. The Lord had provided her with a second chance when she’d done nothing on her own to earn it.

Mercy, grace, she understood both so much better now. She would not squander this unexpected blessing in her life. She would cherish every moment of the adventure that lay ahead.

Dressed and ready for her evening out, Caroline bid Sally good night and made her way to the long, arching stairwell at an inappropriately hurried pace.

Laughing at herself, she placed her hand on the banister and froze.

Oh.
Oh.

Of course.

Jackson stood at the bottom of the stairs, handsome and immaculate in his formal attire, looking up at her with that confident smile she so adored. He inclined his head in a half bow. Taking the steps on wobbly knees, heart leaping wildly in her chest, she managed to navigate her way to the bottom without crashing headfirst at his feet.

She looked at him fully and . . .

Oh.

His hand took hers in a firm, warm clasp. Her stomach dropped, and she felt half suffocated from the sheer physicality of his nearness. She felt a welling of . . . something. Joy, peace, completion? She had fallen unequivocally in love with this man, with his honor, his integrity, his sheer masculine beauty. Her life and her future lay with him.

She whispered his name.

“Caroline. My sweet, beautiful Caroline.” His voice and expression were fierce as he pulled her into his arms, seemingly uncaring that he was crushing her dress.

After a moment, he pulled away slowly, as if reluctant to do so. He cupped her face in his hand and smiled. There was something different in his eyes, a raw vulnerability she’d not seen before.

“I love you.” He said the words so simply, so easily, as if falling in love with her had been as inevitable as breathing.

Perhaps it had been.

“I love you, too, Jackson.” The ache of tears in her throat made her voice hoarse, but the words had come out strong. Real.

For a moment they simply stared into one another’s eyes, both speechless, still holding on to one another for dear life. There was no mention of the future, no promises made, but Caroline knew this was no game to Jackson. He would make an offer soon. He was that sort of man.

“We had better go,” he said, stepping back, dropping his hands to his sides. “Before I take you back in my arms and ruin your dress beyond all hope of repair.”

She cast a glance at the green silk creation. It was in fine shape. But he was right. Any more kissing would bring certain disaster. Then again . . .

“I have other dresses.”

His eyes turned soft, amused. “Don’t tempt me. We are already late—another few moments and we’ll be the talk of the town.”

He said the words in jest. Caroline knew this. She heard the humor in his voice. But she was well aware of how hard he’d worked to earn the respect of his peers, to end the humiliation of his father’s betrayal. She would not be the cause of a single blemish on his good name.

“You are right.” She smoothed her hand down her skirt. “We should go at once.”

Not giving him a chance to respond, she swept past him and out into the night. He had no other recourse than to follow.

The short ride to the Metropolitan was made in relative silence. Jackson might not wish to wrinkle her dress, but he had no qualms about holding her hand or running his thumb across her palm.

“I had an interesting conversation with Marcus this afternoon.”

Unable to keep from sighing, she dipped her head and waited for him to continue.

“He has decided to send Katherine away.” He tightened his hold on her hand, the gesture communicating his support as surely as any declaration would have. “She will reside in their home in Florida indefinitely.”

To a woman like Katherine, being sent away was the worst sort of punishment, the equivalent of banishment.

More to the point, Katherine was one of the most influential women in New York society and enjoyed her position greatly. Surely she wouldn’t submit to this without a fight. “My aunt has agreed to this? She has agreed to go without a fight?”

“So it would seem.”

Caroline had her doubts. Before she could voice any of them, Jackson brought her hand to his lips. “She leaves at the end of the week.”

“I suppose that will have to be good enough.” If Caroline had her way, her aunt would depart sooner.

“How is my uncle?”

“Angry, sad, confused—all the things one would expect of a man in his situation.” Jackson released her hand. “Tonight will be difficult for him.”

Caroline’s throat constricted on her uncle’s behalf. What must it have been like for him to discover his mate had carried such evil in her heart? Even now, after only a short acquaintance, Caroline could hardly reconcile the woman she’d thought she’d known with the one that lay underneath the gracious facade of perfect manners and custom-made gowns.

“The way I see it,” she began, “it is up to us to make the evening a pleasant one for my uncle.”

“Yes, it is up to us.” Admiration filled Jackson’s eyes. “You are a good person, Caroline, a woman of compassion and tenderness.”

“Please, Jackson.” Her cheeks heated. “I’m none of those things. I’m a ruffian from the streets of London. Just a few months ago I lived in a—”

“It doesn’t matter where you came from, or how you lived before that day I saw you on Orchard Street. Everything I have just said about you is true, all of it.” His mouth came to hers, and he kissed her, gently, slowly, appreciatively. “You are good, very good, in your heart, in your soul, where it counts most.”

“I . . .” She pulled slightly back and stared into his eyes, eyes filled with admiration. “Jackson, you . . . you’re making me blush.”

Of all the responses to his words, she would have never expected that one, which made her cheeks heat even more than before.

“I love you,” he said simply, effortlessly, as if it had been true for him forever.

She had no time to formulate a proper response. They had arrived at their destination, and Jackson was helping her out of the carriage before she could think to speak.

Arm linked with hers, he escorted her through the lobby. Heads turned in their direction. Greetings were called out and returned with pleasantries. It was all so . . . easy, comfortable. And yet, Caroline felt a sense of foreboding wash through her. It was the kind of cautionary sensation that had kept her alive in her other life back in London.

The mad crush of people on the stairs leading to the private boxes reminded Caroline of her first day in America. Much like now, she’d been pushed and shoved from every angle.

Her apprehension thickened with the pressing crowd. Tension spread across her shoulders. She put up her guard at once. Her gaze darting back and forth, right to left, she watched for trouble, assessing potential threats one by one.

They made their way to her uncle’s private box just as the lights flickered.

“Right on time,” Jackson whispered.

Relief tickled a trail along the base of her spine and, finally, she relaxed. But then Jackson moved aside the curtain, and she came face to face with her aunt.

Chapter Thirty-One

“You.”
The word rushed out of Caroline’s mouth in a cold, harsh whisper. Her gaze turned fierce and unbending. A woman prepared to stand and fight. She would not run away from her aunt. She would not back down. Cowardice was not in her nature.

Alert, watchful, cool on the surface with violent ripples of rage and tension beneath, this was the woman who’d survived the vicious streets of Whitechapel. Katherine had no idea who she was up against.

Still, Jackson felt a driving need to protect Caroline. She should not have to be in this position.

His own anger kindled, the pain of it obscene, like sharp, burning daggers stabbing into his chest. All but snarling at the woman who had caused so much suffering in his beloved’s life, he swept his glance around the box—the very
empty
box—then returned his attention to Katherine once again.

She was looking her best tonight, dressed in a crimson silk gown fashioned in the latest Parisian style. Her blonde hair was perfectly coiffed atop her head.

She should not be here.

Marcus had promised. Something must have happened.

“Where are your husband and the other members of the family?” Jackson asked, aware that Caroline still stared at the woman, frozen in shock.

Katherine answered the question, her eyes never leaving her niece’s face. “Richard insisted on taking the family carriage. I came on ahead of them in the motorcar.”

“How very . . . resourceful.” Caroline looked as chilly as she sounded. For a moment, a haunted expression filled her gaze, a sorrow so deep Jackson wanted to bundle her in his arms and hasten her away to a safe place where no one could hurt her again, especially not this vicious woman.

But this wasn’t his fight, and he knew Caroline wouldn’t appreciate him interfering or insisting she leave. Nevertheless, he stayed right where he belonged, by Caroline’s side.

Strains of discordant music drifted from the orchestra pit below the stage as instruments were tuned. The lights flickered again, a warning the show would begin in fifteen minutes.

Still standing with her back to the stage, Katherine looked over her shoulder, noted the packed theater behind her, and released a very small, very maddening smile. “I believe that’s my cue.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you here.” Caroline spun on her heel and exited the box.

Katherine rushed after her, intent in her gaze, Jackson hard on her heels.

Out in the hallway, Caroline slid him a glance, a plea really. “You should go, before she makes a scene.” She looked frantically around her. “Before someone notices you’re here with me.”

“I’m not leaving you, Caroline.” He wrapped his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her lips, uncaring if anyone witnessed the intimate exchange. “Now and forever.”

“Oh, how sweet.” Katherine’s lips curved in a sarcastic twist. “But, Jackson, are you that unaware of your surroundings?” She raised her voice loud enough to gain the attention of the people in the nearby boxes with only a thin curtain hanging between them. “We are in a very public arena tonight.”

“I’m aware.”

“Oh, look.” Katherine cast a glance behind her, glaring pointedly at the handful of theatergoers tentatively popping into the deserted hallway. “I do believe we are drawing attention from the patrons who have yet to find their seats.”

“Jackson,” Caroline hissed. “Please, go. Now, before it is too late.”

He tightened his hold on her waist, the silent gesture communicating his intentions. “Together, Caroline. We are in this together.”

She looked unconvinced and very concerned he was making a mistake. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction. For years he’d avoided a moment such as this, had worked tirelessly to maintain his good standing in the community. But he’d only been playing at being a righteous man, following the principles of good Christian behavior. He’d been working for man’s favor. Not the Lord’s.

He knew the difference now. Caroline had shown him the way of genuine integrity. She’d shown him what real courage looked like. His life had found its rhythm with her by his side.

“As you can see, Katherine, I am officially courting Caroline now.” He spoke in a strong voice, uncaring if others heard his declaration, hoping in fact that they would.

Katherine looked duly flustered, irritated, and as if she were spoiling for a fight. “You are making a mistake. She doesn’t belong in our world. She isn’t one of us. She’s an imposter, raised on the dirty streets of London.”

He felt a quick flash of rage, tapped it down with a hard swallow. With sharp-edged clarity, he folded his anger deep inside him. His ambition had one focus now. Protect the woman he loved. At all costs. If Katherine didn’t have the decency to leave, then he and Caroline would.

Unfortunately, Caroline seemed to have other plans.

She cast him a quick look, silently begging him to depart before she unleashed her temper.

His heart tumbled in his chest. She was obviously trying to protect him. Warmth, admiration, undying love, all three swam through his head. There was something inevitable about this public confrontation, an unavoidable moment in time they’d been careening toward for weeks. The point of no return.

None of them would walk away unscathed.

So be it.

“If you stay,” he said to Caroline, “I stay. I won’t abandon you.”

Frustration sprang into her eyes. “Stubborn,
stubborn
man.”

“It’s why you love me.”

Shaking her head, she turned back to her aunt, her expression turning gunmetal cold. “I may not be from your world, it’s true. But what do you suppose people will say when they find out what you did to my mother? A woman you claimed as your friend?”

“They will congratulate me for protecting my family from a scheming, greedy harlot.”

Caroline gasped at the insult, a sound so strong with emotion Jackson reached for her to soothe her, calm her.

Prevent her from leaping at Katherine’s throat.

Jaw tight, teeth clenched, Caroline shook him off. “We end this, tonight,” she told him. “We end it now.”

“Excellent idea.” Katherine released a skeletal grin so filled with vicious purpose that Jackson instinctually shifted in front of Caroline.

With a dangerous look in her eyes, Caroline skirted around him and braced her feet in a fighting stance. “I am immune to your poisonous machinations. All that you have managed to do,
Aunt Katherine
, is hurt the people I love. For that you will pay.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

A gasp rose up from the crowd.

Katherine looked around her and grinned with satisfaction. Their audience had grown tenfold. She nodded to several people she knew. The encouraging smiles she received in return didn’t bode well for Caroline. “Threatening me with bodily harm is exactly what I would expect from a girl like you. Your very existence is an abomination to the St. James name.” She snarled. “Who was your father? A lowly stable hand.”

Another gasp rose from the crowd. Katherine nodded again, this time in satisfaction. She had the
good
people of New York society on her side. They didn’t know who the woman was, not at the core. They only knew who she pretended to be. If this confrontation continued, it would be a case of Caroline’s word against Katherine’s.

Enough. Jackson gripped the older woman’s arm and turned her toward the stairwell leading to the lobby below.

“Jackson, you don’t have to do this.” Caroline drew alongside him, then lowered her voice. “You can still walk away before it’s too late, before your reputation is—”

“Hang my reputation,” he said, disgusted with himself for allowing matters to get this far. “I won’t allow harm to come to you.”

Half dragging, half pulling, he continued to maneuver Katherine in the direction of the stairwell. People yelled at him to let her go.

He ignored all their pleas.

Clawing at his hand, the woman narrowed her dark, angry gaze at Caroline like a hungry predator seeking to devour her prey.

Caroline didn’t look the least bit intimidated. Quite the opposite. She looked prepared for a fight. A fight to the finish.

Jackson couldn’t have been prouder of the woman he loved, or more determined to protect her from her aunt’s evil intent.

Unfortunately, he was probably too late.

Scenting a good scandal brewing, theatergoers spilled into the hallway, coming from every direction, closing in on them at an alarming rate.

Katherine had succeeded in whetting their appetites for a juicy story. They wouldn’t leave without hearing the whole sordid tale of Caroline’s childhood and resulting struggles since.

Jackson refused to make this easy for them.

He continued to pull Katherine toward the exit. The sea of bobbing heads parted, just a bit, revealing a perfect view of the stairwell up ahead. Only a few more feet to go.

Seizing her chance, Katherine lifted her voice over the buzzing crowd. “Caroline St. James, you are a disgrace to our family and a sinful, wicked creature. You came to town pretending to be a relation of Patricia Harding, which is a lie. A lie!”

Caroline went very still, and her face drained of all color. She looked like a cornered animal, uncertain whether to flee or fight.

Jackson moved between her and Katherine, his body a physical barrier. Slick, sharp, dangerous, his anger became a tangible, breathing beast inside him. The part of himself he had always kept under strict control clambered to be set free.

“Katherine, I’m warning you.” His words came out low and deadly. “Do not continue down this path.”

His warning fell on deaf ears.

Having gained the undivided attention of the onlookers, the woman played to her ever-growing audience. “This woman who claims to be Caroline St. James,” she said, jabbing her finger toward Caroline, “is a fraud. A thief and a liar and a cheat. Not two months ago, she lived in the worst part of London, in squalor, earning money God only knows how.”

“Not another word, Katherine. Not. One. More. Word.” The statement came from behind them. Jackson lifted his gaze over the crowd and caught sight of Marcus hurrying up the stairs. His approach stalled halfway due to the thickening fray.

Katherine swept her eyes over Caroline. “Do you deny any of what I have said?”

Her features unreadable, Caroline lifted her head at a regal angle, not an ounce of shame in her bearing. “I deny none of it. Everything you said is true.”

“There. You see.” Katherine cast a smug smile over the crowd of onlookers. “This girl,
this fraud
, doesn’t belong in our world. She is uneducated and an embarrassment to the St. James name.”

A chorus of agreement wafted from the onlookers. As Jackson had feared, they believed Katherine’s version of the story. His throat closed. It was over. News of Caroline’s background would spread across town by morning. No doubt an ugly twist would be added to her woeful tale with each retelling. She would be rejected from every good home in the city.

He ached for her, for what she had lost. As for him? Jackson didn’t care what the rest of the world thought of Caroline. He loved her. Adored her. Was humbled by her courage to speak the truth, no matter how ugly.

She was the embodiment of Christian integrity.

“Caroline might have come from humble beginnings,” he said. “But she is the best woman I know. Better than all of you combined.” He made his declaration in a loud, firm voice, daring anyone to speak out against her, willing her to hear the pledge in his words, to see the promise in his eyes.

But she had already turned away and was pushing frantically through the crowd.

Jackson rushed after her, shoving through the tangle of people, uncaring if he stepped on toes or crushed dresses.

His eyes were locked on Caroline’s retreating back. The crowd let her pass far too easily, but then closed in behind her. Helplessness washed over him.

He conquered the stairs two at a time. He nearly caught up to her in the lobby but lost sight of her again. He darted through a small gap in the throng and then pushed through another, searching desperately for her familiar cloud of dark hair.

There she was. At the revolving doors. One last shove and she disappeared into the night, out into the streets.

Alone. She was all alone.

Panic eating at him, he quickened his pace, pushing hard, shoving anyone who got in his way. So many people. Several shouted at him to turn around. He knew he was heading in the wrong direction. Yet he persevered. All the while, one thought echoed in his mind. One terrible, dismal thought.

He’d failed Caroline. He’d failed to protect her from her aunt, from the terrible repercussions of a scandal she’d done nothing to deserve. And now she was alone on the streets of New York, with no one to stand by her side. Not even him, after he’d vowed never to abandon her.

He only hoped he wasn’t too late to make things right.