The Last Broken Promise (26 page)

“They’ve already hurt each other, love, in so many crucial ways. This is just their unspent passion.” Dylan lengthened his stride and half-carried his wife down the cobblestone steps to the docks.

“Where have you been?” Finn demanded as he fumed down at Jess. “I’ve been searching for you for almost a bloody fortnight.”

The girl, facing him, balled her hands up and planted them squarely on her slim hips. “We got caught in another squall. I dare say you couldn’t have gotten here any quicker, if you’d been manning the wheel.”

“Do not tell me you captained my ship.”

Jess stuck her pert nose up in the air. “Fine then, I won’t tell you.”

Neither saw the confluence of folks of every description gathering to view the spectacle. Some of them were workers, some were passengers on another ship that had also recently docked. All of them were riveted by the sight of a small slip of a woman in men’s apparel haranguing the biggest, most deadly-looking pirate they’d ever seen.

“Hello Finn,” purred the aristocratic woman who’d just ambled off the nearby ship.

The man uttered a low foul oath. He turned to face her. “What are you doing here, Iona?”

“What, no kind word for your sister-in-law?” the hard woman tittered. “Your poor widowed sister-in-law.”

“Bloody Hades, Cedric’s dead?”

The woman lasciviously licked her blood-red carmined lips. “Yes, Your Grace.” She dropped into a slow, deep court bow. Her head was turned at the perfect angle to give Finn and any other who cared to see an excellent view of the white bosom exposed by the low cut of her stylish gown.

“I am no aristocrat. I told you years ago, I planned to decline the title. If you’ve sailed all this way in hopes of snaring yourself another duke, you’ll be sadly disappointed.”

“Oh no, Your Grace,” Iona McLeod, Dowager Duchess of Maitland, shook her curled head. She clucked her tongue in faux sympathy. “I have no desire to remarry, at least for another six months.”

“Then why are you here?” Finn had no time to deal with this now. He had to be certain Jess suffered no ill effects from the latest mad adventure she’d embroiled herself in.

“Why, I thought to introduce you to your daughter, of course,” the beautiful woman simpered.

“Your gown is lovely,” Rory tweaked at the hem of Jess’s dress. The rich, heavy silk pooled at the girl’s feet.

For a ball gown, it was rather plain. The color was not at all suitable for a young miss. Black was the color of mourning. But considering all that had befallen Jess in the last few weeks, perhaps the color was appropriate, after all. No one would fault the cut of the dress. It was fitted in the newer style. It hugged her bosom, revealing the startling heart-shaped birthmark high upon her left breast. Rory was not at all sure it was suitable to flaunt the cunning little mark. It would surely draw every male eye to Jess’s perfect female form. But, at least the gown was modest in every other respect. It flowed down to the girl’s slippers in a soft drape. Long tight sleeves ended at Jess’s wrists.

This was the first ball Jess had attended in over a year. She found the clothing tight and restricting. Especially after weeks of the glorious freedom of wearing breeches. Even the undergarments felt confining. Her hair was plaited and pinned atop her head. The weight of it was giving her a headache. She just wished this night was over.

According to her brother Dylan, Arthur Bassett would be in attendance at the ball this evening. She’d yet to make the man’s acquaintance. So she had the letter from Mother Marguerite Marie tucked safely inside her reticule. She hoped to be able to pass it to him tonight.

She’d had such fine, idealistic plans. She’d somehow win Finn over to her way of thinking. Then they’d both hie off to the wilderness of what lay beyond the Flint River. They’d devote their lives to bringing the gospel to the Indians there. She’d worked it all out in her mind as she’d sailed Finn’s ship to Savannah. Of course, she’d not breathed a word of her scheme to Aunt Dorcas. The mere thought of her niece taking up residence with savage Indians would have sent the poor dear off into another fit of the vapors.

“Here, I’d like you to wear these.” Rory draped a string of glittering black beads over Jess’s head. She fixed the clasp and turned the girl to look at herself in the wavy glass of a small mirror set atop the dressing table.

In the glow of the candlelight in the chamber, Jess fingered the jet-colored pearls. “Are these yours?” she asked.

Rory nodded. “Yes, they are rose pearls. Dylan had them restrung for me. I don’t wear them any longer. They’re actually mourning beads. But I thought they’d look nice with your gown.”

“They’re beautiful.” Jess turned so the light from the candle would flash off the shiny surface of the beads. “Thank you.”

“Hmmp,” Tirzah commented from her place in a chair by the fireplace. “They’s meant for grievin’. You ain’t got nothing to be grievin’ over, gal.”

“Tirzah,” warned Rory with a hard look.

The black woman spread her broad work-roughened hands. “I ain’t saying nothin’ you ain’t thinkin’, Rory St. John. And you knows it.”

The burning wood in the hearth crackled. A clock on the mantel ticked rhythmically. All else was silence.

“I suppose you’re right,” Jess acknowledged.

The last few weeks had seemed an eternity. There’d been no romantic, last-minute meeting with the new Duke of Maitland. Somehow, that seemed to make what was going to happen tonight even harder. But she could understand why he’d favor his family over her. He had a daughter. One, she was sure, he’d never met. And tonight all of Savannah, at least the better parts, was turning out for a ball in honor of Finn, the new Duke of Maitland, and his aristocratic family. Jess supposed she’d be forced to meet his sister-in-law formally and his daughter.

Every time she thought of Finn, the man she loved, with that snake of a blonde duchess, Jess mourned her loss all over again. She’d still not made any firm decisions on what to do with the rest of her life. Becoming a missionary, with Finn, to the Creek Indians, as she’d once thought to do, still held appeal. Just getting away from the pitying glances of all of Savannah would be a relief.

Somehow the truth of her ruin had reached these shores almost as quickly as she had herself. Rumors of her relationship with the new duke now ran rampant. There was even talk of her being Finn’s discarded mistress. Besides being humiliating, it was all a lie. But there was no way she could defend herself. And she didn’t want any of her siblings involved in dueling over her lost honor.

Instead of trying to recapture her lost reputation. Jess decided to reinvent herself. There was always a need for volunteers at Rev. Whitfield’s orphanage over in White Bluff. Or she may join the Moravians who still maintained a religious settlement a few miles down the coast. She had options. Ones that didn’t include the husband and noisy brood of children she’d always dreamed of having.

“If you ast me, somebody need to have a C
ome to Jesus
meeting with that there pirate.” Tirzah wasn’t through giving her opinion.

“Nobody asked you,” Rory said.

“You watch your mouth, gal. I can still come after you with a little green switch,” chided the old black woman. “Sides, you need to be gettin’ downstairs. You know that man o’ yours ain’t too good at waiting. He liable to take off to that fancy dance without you.”

Rory stopped by her foster mother and frowned. “Leave Jess alone. Some things are too deep for tears. This is one of them.”

Tirzah snorted her answer. She barely waited until the Duchess of MacAllister disappeared out the door before she began talking.

“You gone let that hussy take yo man?” she asked the girl standing by the dressing table.

“He’s not my man,” Jess corrected as she shrugged herself into the black satin domino that matched her subdued gown.

Tirzah heaved her considerable bulk out of the small parlor chair. She lumbered over to the troubled girl. “He yourn if you want him.” She methodically tied the thin velvet ribbons at Jess’s throat. With the cape fastened, the old lady looked the girl square in the eye.

“It’s complicated,” Jess said, dropping her gaze to her feet. “There’s that infernal vow he made. And now he’s a duke and… and a father.”

“Chile,” Tirzah put a comforting arm around the girl. “Life’s full of trouble. It always gonna be. God set it up thataway. So He must know way more than we do about why it’s gotta be so hard.”

“But this is… it’s impossible.”

“You sayin’ you cain’t love that chile the harlot brought with her?”

“Of course not,” Jess answered. “It’s not her fault. She’s as much a victim in this whole mess as I am.”

Tirzah cocked her head to one side. The colorful turban she wore listed heavily with the movement. She used one hand to slap it back in place. “That how you see yo’self? As a victim?”

Jess wasn’t quite sure how to answer the pointed question. After a few moments reflection, she shook her head. “No.”

It was true; all that had recently befallen her was not of her choosing. And it was a fact that she loved Finn McLeod, duke or no. And also it was plain she’d never be his wife. But she wasn’t a victim. She was blessed.

“I’m glad to hear it. Cause, chile, that man be purely lovesick over you.”

“He is?” Jess was startled.

“He sho is. He been showing up on Mr. Dylan’s doorstep, like clockwork, every morning fore dawn. Rory’s duke, he ain’t letting yo man in the house. But that don’t stop the pirate from trying to see you every, single, day.” It was clear she relished telling the tale.

“But… but no one’s told me.”

“Course they hasn’t. Mr. Dylan done give orders you ain’t
at home
.”

“He has?” Jess fumed. “Excuse me, Tirzah, I need to go have a word with my brother.”

“Now hold your horses, missy. Going down there and causing another ruckus ain’t in yo best interests.”

“But Dylan’s kept Finn from me. What if he wanted to talk to me? What if he’s had a change of heart? What if Finn wants to marry me?”

Tirzah chuckled at the girl’s sudden animation. “Oh honey chile, he
does
want to talk to you. And he shore do want to marry you. I ain’t never seen a man so lovesick since Mr. Dylan met Miss Rory. But I ain’t so sure your pirate’s had a change of heart about this whole circuit rider folderol. Cause they’s still a whole lotta talk about him getting ready to take off to the wilderness.”

“It’s that careless vow,” Jess muttered.

“I’se thinking somebody needs to set that poor man straight about making foolish promises to God. And about praying over them, when he makes them, stead of just deciding he so smart he knows God’s own mind.”

“Even if Finn could be persuaded, he’d just give up being a circuit rider and go back to Scotland. He has a duty to his family. And I know Finn. He’d want to do anything he could for his daughter.”

“I ain’t so very sure that poor girl is his,” Tirzah said.

“What?” Jess looked as if the idea had never crossed her mind. “You think Lady Iona is lying?”

“That tarted-up wench?” Tirzah sniffed. She waved a broad hand in the air. “I don’t like to accuse nobody. But I think she got the look of a fox. A sneaky, egg-suckin’ fox. Where you suppose that girl-chile got her red hair? Yo pirate is dark as sin. That puffed up
Lady
Iona
got hair and eyes lighter than yourn. How you reckon they come to make a redheaded baby?”

“I don’t know,” Jess admitted.

The black woman nodded. “If I was you, I’d git myself to that dance and give the pirate something, other than his vow, to think about. I’d do my dead-level best to outshine every female there. Including that ole Lady Iona.”

“But the vow?”

“Chile, you let God worry about that vow. And you let Him show you what to do. He will, if you just trust Him.”

Jess nodded through her tears. She gave Tirzah an impulsive hug. Then she swept from the chamber.

Tirzah settled back into the chair. She stared into the fitful fire.
“Don’t you go making a bad mouth liar out of me, Lord,”
she whispered. Then she bowed her head and began to silently pray.

“May I sign your dance card, Miss St. John?” The words came from a seedy looking older man.

Jess knew for a fact that he was an overseer from a small farm. One that was mortgaged to the hilt. But he’d been the first man to offer to partner with her all evening. It appeared, even with her youth, beauty, and wealth, the damage to her reputation was wide reaching. She didn’t like the avaricious look in this man’s eyes. But she did want to dance. So she rose from the small gilt chair she’d been occupying all evening to join a newly forming set.

The Avansley home was ablaze with lit chandeliers and costly mirrors to reflect their light. Every person, of any note, from the surrounding area had been invited to fete the new duke. The hardwood floors had been laboriously sanded and polished. The supper room was lined with groaning sideboards of rich food. A tremendous cut-glass punch bowl filled with a delectable Savannah Trifle glittered in the candlelight. The jeweled layers of the dessert were heavenly to behold. The heat from the crush of bodies made the air heavy with the aroma of perfumes, pomades, and beeswax.

Jess had been to balls before. In Virginia, she’d often been deemed the reigning belle of the parties she’d attended. Back then, she’d been a diamond of the first water. Now she was barely tolerated. In fact, several of the more haughty Savannah matrons tonight gave her the cut direct. They no longer knew her. She’d ruined herself and was not fit for polite society.

The girl hoped she’d one day get used to the offensive looks and knowing winks. She’d never become accustomed to being propositioned in full view of everyone in the ballroom. The first time it happened this evening, she’d taken it as a poor joke.

One of Dylan’s business partners had cornered her in the dark hall outside the ladies’ retiring chamber. He’d baldly inquired as to the state of her virginity, all the while assuring her he would gladly take her under his protection, whether she remained a maiden or not. She’d known immediately he wasn’t referring to keeping her safe. He wanted to keep her in some little out-of-the-way house, as his mistress. Of course, she was duly horrified. He’d laughed in her face when she’d demanded an apology.

Things had gone rapidly downhill from there. That’s how she found herself sitting all alone until this unwashed overseer came to rescue her. But she was wondering if his goal in dancing with her was purely altruistic. He’d clasped her tight to his sweaty body and now was rubbing up against her in a most alarming manner.

She looked around the crowded dance floor and realized she and her dance partner were the focus of interest. There was much snapping open of elaborate fans. There was plenty of hissed gossip behind open hands. And there was an alarming amount of carnal speculation in the eyes of many of the men watching the whole proceedings.

“Excuse me, I need to sit down. Would you be so kind as to fetch me a cup of orgeat?” she said in a firm voice as she tried to push her dance partner away.

The gap-toothed man was having none of it. He’d found his prize. He intended to keep her. “No,” he told her in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

“No?” Jess was stunned.

“No, I’d rather step out in gardens with you,” he leered down at her and guffawed like a mule. “Come on, I got something to show you out there.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her in the direction of a set of French doors.

“No, no, I don’t want to go with you.”

She dug in her heels and frantically looked around the ballroom for her brothers. They were nowhere to be seen. And no one else seemed interested in coming to her rescue. Jess shuddered when she realized what the man intended to do to her, if he was able to drag her outside.

“I don’t want to go with you,” she said in a much louder voice. One that caught the attention of a group of dandies standing by an ornate silver spittoon stationed by the door.

One of them laughed at her dilemma and shouted out some drunken advice, “Don’t kick up such a fuss. It’s not as if you’ve never welcomed a man to your bed before.”

This nasty anecdote set his whole group of friends to hooting and laughing uproariously.

“Let. Me. Go!” Jess shrieked at the top of her voice. She kicked the overseer. He fell into a howling heap at her feet.

“Why did you attack him,” whined the foolish drunk. “He just wanted a toss in the garden. I’d think a tart like you’d make a fair spot of coin on a night like this, if you stayed out there. I know I’d have a go.”

The whole ballroom silenced. It was what they’d all been snickering behind their hands. But no one had yet had the effrontery to say it aloud.

“I agree,” drawled an obviously inebriated pouf in an old fashioned powdered wig. “It’s not as if that pirate hasn’t already tasted of your wares. Oh,” he hiccupped. “Do pardon me. He’s not a pirate anymore. He’s a duke…,” he waved a limp hand above his tall, dated hair piece. “I just can’t seem to remember his name.”

“It’s McLeod,” Finn snarled. He whipped his sword out. He used it to jab into the satin of the fat planter’s garish waistcoat. “And you owe the lady an apology.”

Jess breathed a sigh of relief. Never had she been so glad to see anyone. Even if Finn did look like an elegant murderer at the moment, she was most glad to have him there to hold the villains at bay. He was dressed exclusively in black tailored evening clothes. A discreet ruby glinted in his simply tied cravat. His midnight hair was swept back from his face throwing his handsome carved features into relief in the candlelight. The small hoop in his ear seemed at once completely out of place and entirely appropriate.

“What?” sputtered the drunk. “Why must I apologize? Everyone knows she’s been your wh…”

Finn had a hand around the man’s scrawny neck before the dandy could finish his obscenity.

“Lady St. John will hear your apology now,” the big man growled.

“Of… of course.” The planter must have regained some small semblance of sobriety. For he suddenly realized his very life was in danger. “I’m sorry…” he turned to deliver his act of contrition to Jess.

“On your knees,” Finn ordered in a low lethal voice.

“On my knees?” the man gulped.

At McLeod’s harsh nod, the man began to slowly sink to the floor. Once there, he folded his hands as if in prayer and begged Jess to forgive him.

“I’m profoundly sorry for my offense. Do, please forgive me,” he said.

Finn cocked an eyebrow towards Jess. He had his sword tip digging into the back of the man’s coat. The pirate waited for her to release the man.

“Of course, of course, please get up,” she urged frantically. For a young woman who hated to be the center of attention, this whole ball was a nightmare.

The planter scrambled up and fled out into the dark garden. Before the dancing could resume, Finn pointed his saber at one of the men who’d been a part of group by the spittoon.

“You, you’re next,” McLeod waved towards the floor with his weapon.

“But… but I didn’t say anything,” the dandy protested.

“Then kneel down and apologize for what you were thinking,” Finn said acerbically.

“No, Finn.”

Jess did her best to try and stop him. But the new Duke of Maitland was obviously in a killing fury. And he would not be swayed.

“I’ll be through with this in a minute. Then I want to talk to you,” was all he said to her.

One by one, he made every popinjay who’d offered her offense, kneel and beg heartily for her forgiveness. She forgave them all as quickly as she could. When the last man scurried away, Finn turned to raise Jess’s gloved hand in his. In full view of the assembly, he kissed it.

“Will you allow me the supper dance, Milady?” he asked with a great deal of ceremony.

Jess nodded dumbfounded. She was instantly swept up into his arms and into the sensual lazy patterns of a waltz.

“I will make this right, Jess. I don’t know how. But I will,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

“There is nothing to make right.”

His steady golden eyes drilled into hers. “There is everything to right. Will you marry me?”

Jess’s eyes widened at his outlandish question. She shook her head. “That’s not what you truly want. And I’ll not have you sacrificing yourself, again. Especially not to save me from the narrow-mindedness of others.”

“It is what I want.
You
are what I want,” he said fiercely.

“What of your promise to God?”

Finn looked away. “God will understand.”

“But will you?” she wondered aloud. “Will you ever stop feeling guilty over that vow? You are a man who does not break his promises, Finn.”

“I’ve broken plenty of vows. Some of them to you,” he laughed harshly. “I’m an accomplished liar, Jess. I’ve had to be to survive.”

“Have you lied to me?” she asked somberly.

“No, I can’t seem to lie to you,” he admitted. “But I have broken my vow to you.”

“How?”

“I promised you I’d never hurt you.”

Jess smiled up at him. She forced them to stop in the middle of the churning dance floor. She cupped his face with her hands.

“You
have
never hurt me, Finn McLeod. There was no real betrothal between us. We both know that. If you think there ever was a valid promise of marriage, let me set your mind and heart at ease.
I
release
you
. Let this be the last broken promise between us. And let it be mine. I’ve caused my own pain by stupidly proposing to you in front of a crowd of witnesses and then, again, by haring about the country trying to be like a heroine from some gothic novel to impress the old nun whom I admire. I’ve been willful and stupid trying to accomplish what I thought was God’s intention, before I even consulted Him. I’ve done many foolish, prideful things. And now I’m paying the price for my actions, as we all must. But you, you’ve never, never intentionally hurt me, Finn.”

Everyone stopped their steps to gape at what the new Duke of Maitland was doing with the scandalous Jess St. John.

“Marry me, Jess” he begged hoarsely.

“Your Grace, I see you have much to learn about the social behavior accepted among the ton. You are making quite a vulgar spectacle of yourself with this little chippy. A man of your rank is, of course, allowed his indiscretions. But they should always take place privately. Set the slut up in a house, if you must. I will not badger you over it, once we’re wed.” It was said in a condescending and supercilious voice.

Iona McLeod, Dowager Duchess of Maitland slowly descended the short staircase into the packed ballroom. Her awkward, freckled, red-haired daughter followed with a pinched and worried look on her face.

“Finn?” Jess asked him in a stricken voice. Had he been lying to her all along? Was this revelation part and parcel of the ill he believed he’d caused her? He’d said himself, more than once, that he was adept at such evil. Had she truly been a witless, stupid girl once again? Had she, once more, bared her heart to him for all to see and make mock of? Ashamed, she turned to flee.

He caught her before she could dart away. “No, my love, no. She’s a viper. She ever has been. And she lies now. I swear to you, I love you. I want to marry you and make you my Duchess.”

His hands were hard where they gripped her shoulders. His face was a study in honesty and passion. “Believe me, Jess. Please, love, believe me,” he begged.

Iona laughed maliciously. “You’re a fool of you fall prey to his pretty words and handsome face, girl. He’ll use you. Just like he used me. Then, he’ll leave you to deal with the consequences of his pleasure.” She threw an arch look to the dumpy unattractive young girl behind her.

“He’s not my father,” the girl spoke up with a surprising calm and clear voice.

“Shut up, you brat,” hissed the Dowager Duchess. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do, Mother. Father gave me a letter, before he died.” The redhead carefully withdrew a folded letter with the ducal seal from her reticule. She handed it to Finn.

“He was not a good man, Your Grace,” she explained. “But he had a change of heart when he knew he was dying. He made me promise to give you this. It’s why I agreed to travel here with Mother. I don’t know the precise contents. But I believe, in this letter, he confessed to not being my sire. It’s a widely known fact, in our village, that I keenly resemble the blacksmith.”

“Shut up, you little demon,” Iona drew her hand back to slap her daughter. “You’ll spoil it all.”

Finn caught the harridan’s hand in mid-flight. “Do not,” he warned. “I’ll not stand by and watch you take out your foul temper on this innocent girl.”

“Your daughter, you mean,” the blonde woman taunted.

“Iona, we both know there’s no way this child can be mine.”

“She is yours! If not in fact, then in name alone.”

“She is welcome to the name. She is surely owed the use of it after what she must have suffered, over the years, at your hands. And I would gladly keep her in my household and raise her as my own. But I am not her father.”

“Prove it!” the evil woman almost cackled with glee.

“I don’t have to prove anything, certainly not to you. I’m to marry, it’s true. If this lady will have me.” He turned to smile down at Jess who was still near him. “Has it escaped your notice that you live upon my sufferance now?” he asked of his sister-in-law.