Patrica Rice (16 page)

Shortly after dawn the kitchen sent up tea and toast, and Jack sent for the nursery maid and Mrs. Higginbotham. The maid hurriedly arrived and applied herself to changing the linen, giving the master and the lady surreptitious looks in the process. Both looked haggard but vaguely triumphant. The little girl seemed to be breathing easier.

Mrs. Higginbotham didn't arrive until an hour later. She gave Carolyn a smirk and turned her full attention on Jack. His rumpled clothes of two days before set her aback, but the snarl on his face made her quail. She turned to the offensive. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but I was told in no uncertain terms that my services weren't required. I will be more than happy to sit with the child while you get your rest. You shouldn't have the burden of nursing an ill child. I'm certain you have much more important things to do. Shall I ring for your bath to be sent up?"

Jack's lips tightened, but he held his temper with remarkable aplomb. Carolyn admired his performance. She would have scratched the woman's eyes out. More important things to do, indeed!

"We'll no longer be requiring your services, Mrs. Higginbotham. I will speak with my secretary when he arrives, and he will advance you six months' salary. I would like you to remove from the household before day's end."

The woman stared at him in astonishment. "On what grounds, my lord? Have I not cared for the wee one like one of my own, dressing her in all that is fine and seeing that she is properly instructed in conduct? I cannot be blamed that her kind cannot learn simple obedience. I have done my utmost to teach her."

Jack rose to his full threatening height and the woman stepped backward. "Out, Mrs. Higginbotham, before I lose my patience. I recommend that you do not seek any other position requiring understanding or compassion, for you have none. Leave us, at once!"

He practically roared this last, and the woman gave a squeak of alarm and rushed to the door, throwing Carolyn a malevolent look in parting.

Jack collapsed into himself, but a sound from the bed returned his attention there. Amy sneezed, then opened her eyes. "Papa?" she inquired weakly as he scooped her into his arms.

Jack's shining eyes and radiant smile returned tears to Carolyn's eyes. Touching her hand to the child's cheek and ascertaining that it was considerably cooler than before, she felt relief flood through her and felt the same in him. They needed no words of understanding.

"Nanny's basket will have arrived by now," she murmured. "I will go home and fetch it."

Jack's smile faded. "Not yet, Carolyn. Wait until I can come with you. I would not have you face the consequences alone."

She had not given much thought to consequences. She had possessed the freedom to come and go at will for some years now. Her father trusted her to do the proper thing. In all probability, he did not even know she wasn't at home. She offered Jack an uneasy smile. "That isn't necessary. My maid is the only one who knows, and she won't talk. You needn't worry."

Amy's fit of sneezing, followed by her hungry complaints, distracted them both for some while. Jack became frantic when she cried and spit up her toast. Carolyn soothed him and the child, offering apple juice and tea laced with honey and slicing the toast up into soft, buttery strips dotted with cinnamon. Between Jack shouting orders at an army of servants racing up and down the stairs and Carolyn patiently doctoring the food to suit an invalid, they succeeded in getting the first decent meal into Amy that she'd had in days.

Their triumph did not last long. Just as they got Amy into another clean gown and asleep, a roar in the lower hall warned that still another hurdle awaited. They exchanged glances at the familiar fury. Carolyn's father had discovered her whereabouts.

She paled at the unexpectedness of this visitation, but held her head high as angry strides approached. Not daring to compromise her further, Jack kept a respectful distance as the door burst open.

Henry Thorogood quickly took in his daughter's wrinkled walking gown and weary expression, Jack's rumpled clothes and defiantly protective air, and the tiny child lying curled beneath the covers. The vulgar message that had brought him flying here had no basis in fact; he knew his daughter too well to see anything else in this scene but what it was. He concealed his relief and turned his furious gaze on the young man who had so successfully turned his comfortable world inside-out.

"I will see you in my study in one hour, Chatham. Come, Carolyn, we will go home."

Carolyn looked from one man to the other. Had they been tomcats, they would have their backs arched, their hair on end, and they would be spitting. That was an odd way to picture Jack, and she threw him a second look. His fingers were curled around the chair back while he engaged her father in a duel of glares. The tension mounting between them was too electric to bear. Silently she picked up the pelisse and muff she had thrown over the chair the day before and walked out of the room.

* * * * 

Angry shouts echoed up and down the hallways, vibrating through the normally sedate Thorogood household. Blanche sent her sister a speculative look as Carolyn sat reading in the far corner of the library. Carolyn's air of indifference didn't fool her this time. She looked like one who hadn't slept in weeks, and the book she held was upside-down. Something was going on, but no one had given thought to informing Blanche.

Carolyn didn't seem surprised when the footman came to fetch her. She shook out the warm yellow skirts of the wool gown she had hastily donned, wasted no time tidying her loose arrangement of curls, and proceeded out, as if walking to her execution.

Her father at least had the decency to leave them alone for this interview, Carolyn observed as she entered the study to find only Jack waiting. He had that haunted look on his face again, but his eyes were warm as they took in her appearance. He made no attempt at an improper embrace, as he might have in earlier years, but Carolyn felt his desire to do so. She was grateful for his restraint.

"How is Amy?" Although she had left the child little more than an hour ago, it seemed much longer. She would hear this news first, before the argument to come.

"Sleeping when I left her. Your maid brought the basket of remedies. I thank you for your concern."

His formality indicated uneasiness. Carolyn could understand that. Her father could have that effect on heads of state. Nervously she took a seat and clasped her hands in her lap. "You needn't look like that, Jack. He doesn't bite."

Jack made a wry smile. "I wouldn't swear to that. He's in the right of it, though. I have compromised you beyond repair. I'm obliged to offer for you."

She had hoped he would phrase it a little less bluntly. It would be soothing to her injured feelings to hear him mouth a few of the pretty phrases he was so good at saying. Just for a little while she would like to cling to the illusion of those long-ago years.

Her smile matched his as she replied, "I am obliged to refuse."

Jack's shoulders slumped and he turned to play with the candlesticks on the mantel rather than reveal his expression. "You cannot, Carolyn. That Higginbotham woman is spreading word far and wide. I could slit her throat, but the damage will already be done."

She had not expected that. Wildly, Carolyn contemplated her alternatives, but her ability to think straight had flown out the door when Jack entered it. She shook her head in hopes of freeing it from cobwebs. "We can deny everything. I'll not be forced into marriage."

"I knew you would say that." Bleakly he turned back to face her. "Can you not even consider it, Carolyn? Would it be so horrible a fate? I'm quite wealthy now, you know. I can support you in any manner that you choose."

Carolyn rose and gave him a cold glare at this insult. "What does wealth have to do with it? I would have married you when you were penniless, but you preferred gold to me. Go wed your gold, Jack. I'll not have any part of your lies."

She swung to leave the room, but he stepped forward and caught her wrist, his face a mixture of despair and desperation. "Is it George? Do you love him? I will go speak to him today and explain all that has happened. If you love each other, this misunderstanding can't come between you."

Carolyn gave him an icy look and refused to reply until he dropped her wrist. "Explain what you wish to whomever you wish if it eases your conscience. Good day, Jack."

She swept out in a trail of lavender and wildflowers, leaving him bereft. The fury in Thorogood's expression when he returned did not ease Jack's pain. He had lost her. The terrible emptiness that followed this realization could only be filled with silent screams of anguish.

Despite her lack of sleep, Carolyn did not find rest easy that night. She couldn't erase the look in Jack's eyes when she refused him. Surely he had not expected her to agree after what he had done to her? What did he stand to gain by offering now?

Amy. That thought came instantly to mind. He needed a mother for Amy. That much was obvious. She must have filled him with confidence when she had so foolishly taken the child under her wing. Instead of pretty words, he meant to woo her with his daughter.

Why did that notion not ring true? She was quite experienced enough by now to know when she was being manipulated. She had no more romantic illusions. George, at least, had the sense to treat her as an intelligent human being capable of making decisions without having to be wooed and won with silly words and gestures. Would Jack ever consider her in such a light?

That thought made her even more restless, and she got up to put on her robe and pace the room. George's polite note had only said that Jack had been to see him and that he understood all. What did he understand? Did he understand that she needed the reassurance of his presence, of hearing his voice say the words? Obviously not. Jack had, or he wouldn't have been so quick to go to George to explain it. Had it been Jack she had been considering instead of George, he would have been at her door within the time it took to receive the message. Jack had never stinted her in his attentions.

Nor did he now. There was another bouquet on her dressing table with a note telling her how Amy fared. She had nearly cried when she had seen it. All day she had felt isolated. Her father wasn't speaking to her. George's stilted message hadn't helped. And no one had come to call. Only Jack's thoughtful note bringing news of his concern for her had come to break her loneliness.

She was mad to be thinking like this. In a few days George would be escorting her to the usual social functions, the gossip would subside, and everything would be back to normal. Why should she place any consequence on a few flowers and kind words? Jack had always been lavish in his attentions. That was just his way. It didn't mean anything.

But, may the heavens preserve her, she wanted it to mean something. She wanted to know that bouquet meant he cared for her. She wanted to know he offered for her because he loved her and didn't wish to be parted from her again. She wanted to believe that he had come to her that day after the ball to explain his undying love and the misery he had suffered in those years apart, the same misery she had suffered and was suffering still.

Flinging herself weeping on the bed, Carolyn sought comfort in repose. Only in her dreams could she believe that the warmth in gray eyes and the eager caress of browned hands meant something more than selfishness.

The days that followed slipped away like the steady drip of the icicles outside the windows.

Carolyn retreated inside herself just as Blanche remembered her doing those years ago during her first Season. Back then, she had at least continued to attend social functions, although with an icy brittleness that displayed little pleasure. This time, Carolyn refused to go out at all, putting a severe damper on Blanche's own social life. Something drastic had to be done.

The litter of paper and scissors and a crudely cut heart on the library table made Blanche smile in anticipation. Checking surreptitiously to be certain Carolyn was nowhere to be seen, she carefully completed the larger card with a few pen strokes, added the one Amy had made, wrapped both in a length of vellum with a scribbled note, and summoned a footman. St. Valentine's Day was for lovers. The gentlemen who had appeared at their door earlier this day weren't lovers, just men playing at games. Her romantic heart hoped she had made the correct surmise in sending this particular valentine.

* * * * 

Jack opened the slender package in his study, where he was working over long-neglected correspondence. The sight of the two lavishly decorated cards brought back such a painful memory that he nearly threw them aside as someone's idea of a malicious joke. But the crudity of the one card caught his interest, and he picked up the message accompanying it.

After reading the brief note, he carefully studied the two hearts. Both were made with loving hands, one pair childish and uncoordinated, the other talented and gentle. He remembered well the poem inscribed inside the larger heart. He remembered the occasion when he had last quoted it. His hands shook and tears sprang to his eyes as he read it again. Surely, after all these years, she would have forgotten so silly a verse had it not meant something to her? Why, then, would she not say the words to his face?

Pondering this peculiarity, Jack took the smaller heart in his hand and went up the stairs to where a recovering child was wreaking havoc with her impatience to be out of bed. At the sight of him, Amy leapt from beneath the covers to hold her arms out and bounce upon the bed.

Her joyful cry of "Papa" brought a smile to his weary face, and Jack caught her up in a hug, careful not to crumple the paper in his hand. When he set her down, he presented the childishly beautiful card with a flourish.

"Do you remember this?"

Dark eyes lit with excitement. "Lynley helped me! It's for you."

"Lynley?" Jack sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at the childish name for so gracious and lovely a woman as Carolyn Thorogood. As Amy pointed out the card's many and varied features, he could hear Carolyn speaking in the voice of his daughter. Loneliness and a desperate need for her company welled up inside of him. He could not keep on living this half-life. Something had to be done, but he had run out of ideas. How did one go about wooing someone he had courted once, only to slam a door in her face? What he had done was unforgivable. How could they ever go back to that time again?