Masque of Betrayal (46 page)

Jacqui smiled, slowly nodding her encouragement. “Yes,” she replied to Lenore’s unspoken question. “Go ahead”— her voice trembled—“Mother.”

A current of communication passed between them, and Lenore’s lips quivered with emotion. “Thank you, Jacqui,” she whispered, turning to meet her fate.

Edwin Westbrooke walked through the garden and stopped before his wife. “Lenore.”

Lenore brought herself under control with a great deal of effort. “Edwin … I never expected …” She stopped, inhaled sharply.

“Nor did I,” He smiled faintly, an action that softened the harsh lines of his features from stony to disciplined. “But I found it harder and harder to stay away.” Stiffly, he took her hand, his words forced out in a way that clearly showed how difficult they were for him to say. “I’ve missed you.”

Her eyes grew damp. “It’s been ten years. Why now?”

“It’s taken me this long to realize what an obstinate fool I’ve been.” His expression was guarded, his question direct. “Is it too late?”

“Too late?” Lenore dabbed at her wet cheeks. “I don’t know, Edwin. I’m no longer the same woman who left Forsgate. I’ve changed.”

“I know. Nor am I the same man. I’m older, more philosophical, perhaps, more certain of my priorities, definitely.”

“And what are those priorities?”

“My family. Sharing their lives.” Edwin spoke loud enough for Dane to hear, although he kept his gaze averted from his son’s, taking one hurdle at a time. “Lenore, I cannot promise to understand all your beliefs, but I can promise to try. Can you do the same?”

Lenore inclined her head. “I could … but it matters not, for we will be an ocean apart.” She shook her head adamantly as Edwin tried to speak. “I will not leave Philadelphia, so do not even suggest it. This is my home and I have a life here, Edwin. I cannot simply abandon it because you will it to be so.” She gave him a sad smile. “A decade changes not only people but circumstances as well.”

Edwin nodded at Lenore’s wisdom. “Recently, I learned a new word,” he told her quietly. “Compromise. It is something totally new to me, explained by a very wise person, and I am more than willing to attempt it. Are you?”

“Compromise? How?”

“Six months in Philadelphia; six months at Forsgate. Does that sound reasonable?”

Lenore gaped. “You would spend one half of each year living in America? For me?”

“For you … yes.” The grin he gave her was almost boyish. “In fact, if the terms are agreeable, I’d like to begin my stay immediately. All I need is your consent, and I’ll have the servants bring in my bags.”

Lenore’s lips twitched. “Even if I agree to your arrangement, my servants will not be bringing in your bags. At Greenhills, Edwin, you are merely Mr. Westbrooke, not the Marquis of Forsgate. My servants and I work side by side … without class distinction. So you’ll be responsible for your own bags.”

He ingested that stipulation with a baffled shake of his head. “Agreed,” he surprised her by saying. “
Now …
will you consider my offer?”

A smile erupted on Lenore’s face … and was quickly extinguished. “I wasn’t the only person who left Forsgate hurt.”

Edwin allowed his gaze to travel to Dane, who stood rigidly beside Jacqui’s chair. Only the tight clenching of his jaw gave any indication that he was affected by this reunion.

“Hello, son.” Edwin studied the tall, powerful man that was his only child, the tension between them palpable. “You’ve accomplished everything you intended when you went to America: you’ve achieved independence, respect, self-made prosperity. Your mother’s letters glow with praise for Westbrooke Shipping and its great success. You must be very proud.”

Dane didn’t blink. “I am.” His lips tightened. “How is Forsgate?”

Edwin winced at the bitterness in Dane’s tone. “Forsgate is prospering. … It is also, I’ve discovered, a mere parcel of land that cannot provide solace in one’s old age.” He raised his head, his words straightforward, his steel-gray eyes the image of Dane’s: candid and piercing. “The same wise person who taught me about compromise taught me to know when the time comes to bid the past goodbye. It is time, Dane, time for us to reap the joys of the future without the burden of yesterday’s encumbrances.”

Edwin’s expression softened somewhat. “And that same person taught me one thing more: that it takes a great man to admit he is wrong … and an even greater one to accept, to forgive, and to trust again.” Edwin held out his hand. “I was wrong … and I’m sorry. Our beliefs will often clash, but you’re a principled, intelligent man, as equally entitled to your views as I. You’re also my son, and I care for you.” His voice wavered, and he waited, his hand extended.

Dane stared at his father’s hand, his expression unfathomable. Then he slowly looked up, meeting Edwin’s gaze, reading the vulnerability in his father’s eyes and simultaneously baring his own. Silently, Dane held out his hand, clasping Edwin’s fingers in his. “Welcome to Philadelphia, Father.”

Witnessing the raw emotion on her husband’s face, Jacqui’s heart swelled with joy. Silently, she blessed the fates for realizing her most fervent prayer.

Edwin’s voice was gruff. “Thank you, Dane. Thank you very much.” He coughed, glancing past Dane to Jacqui. With a broad smile, Edwin gestured toward her. “Here is someone I have yet to meet.”

Dane turned abruptly. “Forgive me. Father, this is …”

“Jacqueline.” Edwin drew her to her feet and, to Dane’s stunned surprise, embraced her. “You are every bit as beautiful as I knew you would be.”

“Welcome, my lord,” she returned warmly.

Edwin chuckled. “My lord? I hardly expected so formal a greeting. Especially after the way you lambasted me.”

Dane was totally at sea. “Jacqueline is my wife,” he clarified.

“Yes, Dane, I know she is,” Edwin replied with a twinkle. “She’s also much as your mother was … and still is, for that matter: opinionated, far too forthright, and utterly charming.” He sobered. “And I owe her a debt of thanks I can never truly repay.”

“What debt?” Dane demanded.

“Your father is mistaken,” Jacqui told Dane softly, turning glowing eyes to her husband. “He owes me nothing. All I did was pen him a letter, passing on all the wondrous things I’ve learned from you … and Lenore. It was the last of my secrets, the only gift I could think of to adequately express my gratitude for all you’ve given me. And, just as your magic transformed my life, I knew it would transform your father’s as well. So, you see”—Jacqui smiled at Lenore, who was unashamedly weeping with joy—“it was actually you who provided the marquis with the insights he just quoted, not I. You taught me the importance of compromise, gave me the strength to let go of my past, and, with the utmost patience, offered me friendship, trust, and, most important …” She went to stand by Dane’s side. “Love.” Tenderly, she intertwined her fingers with his. “The debt, husband, was mine to repay.”

Dane closed his eyes, so overwhelmed by Jacqui’s words, the selflessness of her gesture that he could barely speak. How could he explain to her that she’d brought something back into his life that he hadn’t even realized he’d lost, made him whole in ways he’d never known he was empty?

Earnestly, he sought the means to express what was in his heart: that her love was his present, his future, the restorer of his past. Choked with emotion, Dane opened his eyes, cupping his wife’s face and raising it to his. And suddenly he knew no words were necessary.

The tears glistening on Jacqui’s cheeks told him she already knew.

T
HE JAY TREATY, ULTIMATELY
signed on November 19, 1794, was bitterly debated in the Senate for its staggering concessions to the British. It was submitted to President Washington in June 1795, yet not ratified until 1796 (when it passed by only four votes). All sources point to the fact that Alexander Hamilton, who drafted the original instructions to John Jay, would have been a far wiser choice than Jay as American envoy to England. Nevertheless, public turbulence over Hamilton’s alleged (and eventually disproved) misappropriation of Treasury funds made it impossible for him to accept the appointment, and he recommended Jay be designated instead.

England received John Jay simultaneous with the news that Sweden and Denmark had asked America to join them in forming a general alliance of neutral countries determined to combat England’s violations of neutrality (a development of which Jay was unaware). The fear of such a powerful allied force united against his country would very likely have influenced Lord Grenville, England’s Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, to acquiesce to Jay’s terms; however, Hamilton himself inadvertently destroyed this hope by making a grave
faux pas.

George Hammond, then British minister to the United States, was a personal friend of Hamilton’s. Unfortunately, Hamilton foolishly entrusted Hammond with the closely guarded secret that America did not intend to join in an alliance against the British. Hammond, in turn, hastily and secretly dispatched the information to Grenville, eliminating Grenville’s greatest concern and thus dramatically tilting the Jay negotiations in England’s favor.

I found myself totally intrigued by the fact that the course of history might well have been altered by this chance forewarning. Intrigue snowballed into inspiration, and thus was born the fictional treason committed in
Masque of Betrayal.

Alexander Hamilton is one of history’s most colorful and controversial figures. Depending on the source, he is depicted as everything from a blatant monarchical dictator to a brilliant, patriotic hero. From extensive research, I determined him to be a charismatic leader and nationalist, who possessed unfailing integrity and farsighted wisdom. I hope I brought some of those traits to life.

Andrea Kane is the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of more than twenty-five novels—including fourteen historical and twelve contemporary novels—that have been published in sixteen countries and translated into more than twenty languages. Whether she’s writing about Regency England, America on the brink of civil war, or New York Police Department detectives caught up in mayhem and murder, Kane’s ability to create unforgettable stories has earned her a loyal worldwide following.

Kane published
My Heart’s Desire
, her first historical novel and the first book in the Barrett Family series, in 1991. Others quickly followed, including
Samantha
, the second book in that series;
Echoes in the Mist
and
Whispers in the Wind
(the Kingsley in Love series); and the acclaimed Black Diamond, Thornton-Bromleigh Family, and Colby Coin series. Stand-alone historic romances include
Dream Castle
(1992),
Masque of Betrayal
(1993),
Emerald Garden
(1996), and
The Music Box
(1998).

Kane’s groundbreaking romantic thriller
Run for Your Life
(2000) became an instant
New York Times
bestseller. This was followed by a series of suspense novels featuring NYPD detective-turned-private investigator Pete “Monty” Montgomery. Kane’s current contemporary series introduced FBI special agents Sloane Burbank and Derek Parker. Other thrillers include
No Way Out, Scent of Danger, Twisted, I’ll Be Watching You, The Girl Who Disappeared Twice,
and, most recently,
The Line Between Here and Gone.

Kane is a self-proclaimed “cerebral” type, and prides herself on her questioning, analytical mind, which has led to her passion for mysteries. She has spent many happy hours with the classic novels of Agatha Christie, trying to outsmart Hercule Poirot.

She is also a die-hard sentimentalist. She cries at old movies and believes in striving for happily-ever-after. In Kane’s words: “The idealist in me loves writing romance, and the pragmatist in me loves writing suspense. I feel very fortunate that I’m able to combine the two, and give you books that keep you at the edge of your seat, but at the same time, make you care.”

Kane lives in New Jersey with her family.

Andrea Kane as a little girl, with her first puppy, Inky, named for the black spots on his white back.