Page 28 of Jaxon (Gentlemen of War #4)

Amelia

I watched out the window as the men huddled together, standing beside the river near the unfinished bridge. I had recognized Zachary Collins from our visit to St Pancras Church over a month ago. This only added to the confirmation that Jack was the man standing on the veranda the night of the Byrne’s ball. I had already believed it from the scar, but this only substantiated it further.

Jack fisted his hands at his side, manifesting the tension of the conversation. Not toward his friends, but certainly from the news they brought. Could there be trouble afoot? A sting of worry sparked in my chest. If Jack and his friends were involved in something scandalous, and my name was linked to his, my family’s reputation might never recover. My stepmother could rescind her portion of the dowry, and my father could disown me. I had not realized this earlier. As careful as I had been in planning my future, it could be compromised simply by an erroneous association.

But—I shook my head in disbelief—Jack, even with his secrets, did not appear to me like a man harboring criminality. He certainly hid something beneath his rustic appearance, but I could not believe for one moment it involved anything illicit.

I retreated to my bedchamber, removed my half boots and stockings, and flopped back on my bed in the most unladylike manner—a behavior that had become substantially easier since my arrival. The Tigress would be mortified. The soft coverlet molded to my body and should have brought comfort, but the chaotic mess in my head prevented me from finding peace in that. What was I to do? How do I draw out the truth without sounding impertinent or judgmental? How did I get Jack to trust me?

I rolled over to one side and fidgeted with the velvety fabric. Truly, I didn’t deserve his trust, for I had blatantly lied to him. Recalling our recent interaction in his bedchamber, I sighed at the memory of how close I came to kissing him and how keenly I wished for it.

If Jack had any smidgeon of affection for me, did his tested attachment come only because I was untouchable as a “betrothed” woman? I’ve seen my share of blackguards in London who find attraction in the hunt, chasing women who would otherwise be unattainable, hoping to charm them into being unfaithful to their affianced or husband like a sport.

But Jack had no audience here and I had no affianced… but Jack didn’t know that.

He also did not exhibit those same villainous characteristics. If anything, I could see that it took a great deal of effort for him to resist his longings. Above all, Jack was no rake, at least not with me. Alone in this house there were ample opportunities he could have seduced me if that was his intent, but he didn’t, even when I put myself in a vulnerable position back in his bedchamber, he resisted. No, Mr. Jack was a gentleman, and I was certain of that, if not anything else.

I almost didn’t hear the light knock at my door until it was followed up by a slightly louder one. “Come in,” I said with little expectation of who it might be.

When Jack opened the door to find me on the bed, I scrambled to my feet. His eyes roamed over the room where my papers and books littered all available surfaces. Though they had dried, I had not yet sorted them or packed them properly. A heated flush warmed my cheeks as I stood frozen before him.

His eyes met mine once more and, instead of shock, they were filled with mirth. “Well, this certainly explains where your intelligence comes from.”

I dropped to the floor and began sweeping the chaotic mess of papers at my feet into a pile. I feared he might see my rambling notes and think I’d gone stark raving mad.

“I apologize, Mr. Jack, I did not expect you… here.”

“I can see that,” his half smile ticked upward impishly, reminding me of the night we spoke of Italy. “And please, it’s still Jack. I would have sent Daisy up to retrieve you, but she is buried beneath a pile of material. It seems she is determined to rebuild your entire wardrobe out of what little survived the incident.”

I smiled at the image. He seemed to have described it precisely how I imagined. Daisy was so good to me. “Yes, she’s a dear girl.” I paused. “But why are you not in the company of your friends? They only just arrived.”

He seemed to struggle with his next words while I fidgeted with the sash at my waist. “How can I help you, Jack?” I carefully stood over the pile I had just made. He seemed to notice my attempt to keep it hidden and his captivating smile grew.

“Do you need assistance with whatever it is you are attempting to do here?” He peered around again. “May I even ask what it is you are doing?”

“I—I, um, many of my books were damaged in the trunk. I attempted to dry out the pages, only I haven’t quite sorted them yet.”

He gave me a curious look. Certainly, a man of his intelligence would know these piles of foolscap did not come from a literary book.

“What writings are on the papers?”

I took a deep breath. I had already revealed a great deal the night we spoke of Italy, I could be honest now. “I take a lot of notes from what I read.”

He picked up one book with its marbled front and frayed binding. “ A Historical Account of the Most Celebrated Voyages , by William Mavor.” He arched a brow and peeked in my direction. I continued to fidget. He had a front window into my soul without a single word expressed on my part.

He set it down with care and picked up a small stack of brown-leather volumes, now discolored from the water damage and read, “ Burnett’s History of His Own Time. From the Restoration of King Charles II. Volumes I and II. ” By the time he picked up the third, my heart was pounding in my ears. “ Works of Flavius Josephus. ” He stared at me with unrelenting pointedness and his partial grin broadened into a full one. “You never cease to amaze me.”

I flushed under his compliment and peered down at my hands. “I have a weakness for history. I can’t seem to get my hands on enough of it.” I took a couple of steps forward. “Please keep this between us. Daisy and Ennis know, but I cannot have word reach my family. My father would be mortified.”

“How would word reach your family in London?”

It was my turn to stare. “Lord Zachary.” Did Jack sincerely believe that I might not recognize the attire of a high standing peer.

“H—how did you know he was a Lord?” His voice cracked just a touch.

I smiled. “We were never formally introduced, but I knew of him. Even Peter spoke of him. We did not socialize with all the same people but there are few, I imagine, that do not know who Lord Zachary Collins is.”

Jack breathed slowly out of his lips. He appeared conflicted. Would he finally tell me the truth about his own status? Or why he attended a ball in London as recently as two months ago?

He cleared his throat. “I would like to speak to you, if you have a moment.”

My hands lifted in front of me in a mild gesture. “We are speaking.”

He glanced behind him and shifted with a trace of anxiousness. “It would not be appropriate for us to remain in here, alone. Would you mind accompanying me on a walk?”

A walk? What did he need to discuss that was so dratted private that he could not speak here and now? “I believe it’s about to rain again.” My eyes flashed toward the window and the overcast sky.

He offered a courteous nod. “If we hurry, we might make it to the stable before it does. I wish to speak to you privately, and a visit to see your horses might do the trick.”

I looked down at my bare feet, having removed my footwear only moments before, and I pressed one over the other as if that would hide my impropriety. “I am not dressed for such an outing, but yes, indeed, I would surely like to see Luna and Blaze again.” It had been a couple of days since my last visit and, fortunately, Blaze was making a strong recovery after all.

“Do what you must.” He dipped his head. “And meet me outside. It is imperative we speak.”

I dipped my head in acquiescence. The seriousness of his tone assured me of its importance. “Give me a few minutes to put myself to rights and I will be there.”

“Thank you,” he said and closed the door behind him.

Shuffling the other wayward papers into a frenzied pile, I stacked the books that Jack had just been holding and suddenly they felt heavier. Did he really find an element of respect in my obsession? Or was he simply being polite?

I nearly tapped on the wall to alert Daisy when I recalled that the French brothers now occupied that room. Opening the door, I tiptoed to the wooden railing that overlooked the great room. Assured that Jack was no longer in sight, I found Daisy sitting below, mending my clothes. I called her name in the lowest whisper I could manage that she would still hear.

She looked upward and I waved her toward me with an urgency.

The moment she stepped inside my bedchamber, I fell upon her with a plea, “Might you help me dress?”

“You are dressed, Miss.” She looked down at my feet. “Why are you barefoot? I repaired your stockings.”

I didn’t want to tell her I enjoyed this sudden newfound freedom. “I, uh, never mind, I just need help, and I prefer to wear something… nicer.”

“Nicer like a gown?” Daisy attempted to read my face.

“No, not a gown, but what morning dresses do I have that still look…” I hesitated to verbalize it. “Well, pretty.”

“You want to look pretty?” she nearly choked on the words.

Why was she making this so difficult? I blew air out of my cheeks. “Daisy, I am going on a walk with Mr. Jack.”

“Oh…” she smiled wide. “I see.” But then her lips pulled into a frown. “What of your bounder about you being affianced? Shouldn’t you keep up the appearances?”

I bit my thumbnail nervously. “I need to rectify that but don’t know how.”

“Simply tell him the truth, Miss.”

“I know, but what will he think of me when he learns I lied?”

“He might be relieved.” She chuckled. “I see how he looks at you.”

“What are you saying?” The only time I saw any likelihood of an attraction was when we were alone.

“He’s curious, courteous, and does not have an inkling of your dowry, which makes him sincere.” Her smile broadened. “And he is dashedly handsome.”

I peered over at her as she forced me to sit, taking her place behind me while she worked some magic with my wayward strands. I contemplated her simple words. Which, as a matter of fact, were absolutely true.