Page 22 of The Governess and the Rogue (Somerset Stories #6)

Chapter Nineteen

J ames poured Jack a glass of brandy and motioned him to one of the chairs in front of the library hearth.

A dwindling fire crackled in the fireplace, casting shadows over the dark, bookcase-lined walls and the red-and-gold carpeted floor.

James lit a branch of candles on the mantlepiece before taking a seat himself. He didn’t beat about the bush.

“Who is she?” he asked.

Jack had been preparing himself for the question ever since he’d locked eyes with his brother on the docks. “My fiancée,” he answered.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Jack said. “And my answer should be enough.”

“Under normal circumstances.”

Jack took a grudging drink. The brandy burned his throat as he swallowed. “These are abnormal?”

“Where you’re concerned, yes. This all seems out of character.” James’s gaze was as incisive as ever. “Unless, it’s in character.”

Jack didn’t flinch. Naturally James suspected there was something more going on than a simple engagement. He knew Jack. Knew that he’d once had a fondness for high-stakes schemes. That didn’t mean Jack was going to admit to anything.

“Perhaps you don’t know my character as well as you think you do,” he said.

“I know you weren’t in the market for a wife.”

“I wasn’t. But things change. People change. I’m not a lad anymore.”

James didn’t reply straightaway. He let the silence stretch between them for several tension-filled seconds. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” he inquired at last.

“Is there something you’re not telling me ?” Jack asked in return.

James raised his glass to his lips. “Such as?”

Jack studied his brother’s face in the firelight. Once, his lack of expression might have stymied Jack, but no longer. “Something else Mrs. Rawson said in her wire, perhaps?”

“Ah. That.” Setting aside his glass, James stood and went to his desk. He opened one of the drawers, retrieving a telegram from within. He handed it to Jack. “It wasn’t Mrs. Rawson.”

Jack examined the telegram with a frown. It had been sent anonymously, but the office of origin was plainly marked. It had come from the railway station in Marseilles.

COLONEL BERESFORD ENTRAPPED BY ADVENTURESS. HONOR PREVENTS HIM EXTRICATING HIMSELF. IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE REQUIRED.

Jack lowered the telegram, outrage giving way to cold fury. “When did you get this?”

“Yesterday. It arrived at the same time as the telegram from Mrs. Rawson.” James returned to his seat. “Any idea who it might be from?”

“A woman by the name of Mrs. Farraday.”

“Dare I ask?”

“She’s a lady with a marriageable daughter who has dogged my steps for more than a year.” Jack crumpled the telegram in his fist. “Who else knows about this?”

“No one.”

“Not Hannah?”

James retrieved his drink. “Not yet.”

“Not ever,” Jack said. “I won’t have this rubbish being bandied about where Bea might hear of it. And I won’t have it influencing any of you in your opinions about her.”

“‘Entrapped by an adventuress,’” James murmured. “Rather specific.”

“It’s scurrilous nonsense.”

“With no shred of truth to it?”

“No,” Jack said. “Bea’s no adventuress. She’s a governess. Or rather, she was one before we became engaged.”

“I see.”

Jack’s brows lowered. “You’re not seriously objecting to her former profession?”

James shrugged. “I merely find it interesting, given the nature of that second telegram.”

“It’s predictable is what it is,” Jack said. “Mrs. Farraday will stop at nothing. She’s a widow, with dwindling prospects. Her daughter is currency to her.”

“Has she reason to?—”

“No.” Jack made a disparaging sound as he threw the telegram into the fire.

It immediately caught flame. “I’ve never treated either of them with anything more than basic courtesy.

As for my honor—it’s that she was banking on as a means of trapping me into marrying her daughter. It didn’t work. Largely thanks to Bea.”

James looked at Jack with increased attention.

“And Bea isn’t after my fortune, by the way,” Jack added. “Or the distinction of the Beresford name. When she met me, she didn’t even know who I was. I was traveling incognito.”

“This becomes more interesting by the minute,” James said. “Traveling incognito? Pursued by one lady and now engaged to another? Is there anything else I should know about? Any other pursuers?”

Jack downed another swallow of his brandy. “You may well be amused. You’ve been married so long, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be chased.”

“I haven’t forgotten. The difference is, my pursuers knew they hadn’t a chance with me. While yours have always believed you would imminently propose.”

“That’s because I have a pulse,” Jack retorted. “And because I’m civil. Perhaps if I’d treated them with icy disdain?—”

“Perhaps you should have done, rather than giving them false hope.” James fell quiet for a moment. “Miss Layton did not pursue you, I take it.”

Jack huffed. “Not at all. She’s not that kind of girl.”

“What kind is she?”

“The kind that’s used to soldiering alone,” Jack said. He heaved a sigh. “I wish you hadn’t met us at the docks. I fear it’s all going to be too much for her. You, and Hannah, and the children.”

“She’d have had to meet us eventually.”

Jack averted his gaze from his brother’s. No, Bea wouldn’t have had to meet them. Had Jack and Bea parted on the docks as they’d planned, none of the Beresfords would ever have known her at all.

The prospect provoked a heavy weight in Jack’s chest. He didn’t want to think of never seeing Bea again. Never smiling with her. Never kissing her.

“Wouldn’t she?” James asked.

Jack glanced back at his brother. He seemed to have lost track of their conversation. “Sorry,” he said. “I drifted off.”

“Is it your leg?”

“It’s lack of sleep. I was awake the whole way through France, and during the Channel crossing. It’s finally caught up with me.”

“Well,” James said. “I won’t keep you from your bed.”

“I’m obliged to you.” Jack gripped his cane, moving to rise.

James remained in his chair. “There is, however, one other matter I must bring to your attention.”

Jack stilled. “If it’s another anonymous telegram, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“It’s not another telegram.”

“Then can it wait?”

James gestured for Jack to resume his seat. “I’m afraid it can’t.”