A Lady Never Surrenders (38 page)

There was a long silence. Then Jarret said, “Hear, hear, sis. I’ll drink to that.” Slipping his arm around Annabel’s waist, he raised a glass. “To Mother and Father and the love that might have been.”

Everyone joined in the toast.

Much later, when the family had settled down into smaller groups and Jackson’s aunt was having a long, involved chat with Gran, he drew Celia aside.

“There’s one thing I’m curious about,” he said. “Right before the doctor arrived this afternoon, Rawdon whispered something to you. What was it?”

Celia slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. “He said that when Mrs. Rawdon fired, she missed his heart because she loved him too deeply to go through with killing him.”

“Do you believe that?” he asked, looking skeptical.

“No. I believe she might have missed him on purpose, but what she felt was obsession and jealousy, not love.”

She nodded toward his aunt. “Love is when you endure pain for the sake of a beloved sister and husband, if that’s what it takes to nurture the child of their illicit union.”

Then she glanced at Gran. “Love is sometimes doing the wrong things because you’re at your wit’s end in knowing how to help your family.”

He drew her into his arms. “Love is taking chances when every rational part of you screams, ‘Don’t risk it.’ Because it’s only when your heart has been ripped open that you get a chance to find the one person capable of making it whole.”

With her own heart beating wildly, she smiled at him. “And you say you aren’t poetic.”

“Well,” he said, with a glint in his eye, “perhaps a few of us
can
be good at everything.”

And as he pulled her into a dark corner and kissed her with great sweetness, she acknowledged that at some things, he was very good indeed.

O
n a cold but bright St. Valentine’s Day, Jackson and his wife and aunt attended the wedding of Mrs. Plumtree to General Waverly in Halstead Hall chapel. Jackson was truly happy for the couple. She’d admitted shortly after his betrothal to Celia that she’d only threatened to disinherit her granddaughter to test his love. Since she unabashedly acknowledged her fault in the matter, he’d forgiven her. Indeed, they’d mended fences to such an extent that she insisted he call her Gran as the other spouses did.

Now, as they headed for the great hall, his wife and aunt began discussing gowns and flowers and things beyond his ken, but he didn’t mind. The two ladies were always so lively. He’d never imagined he would enjoy having two magpies in his house, but he did, especially since they fussed over him a great deal.

In the end, all his fears about how well Celia would manage in Cheapside had come to naught. They
had
added a couple of servants and were making renovations to the house, but those were things he might have done on his own.

Best of all, having come from a large family, Celia seemed to like having his aunt around. And Aunt Ada was careful to give them some privacy often, going to visit various friends for days on end.

“Didn’t Gran make a beautiful bride, Jackson?” Celia asked.

“Hmm? Yes. Beautiful.” He covered her gloved hand with his. “Though not nearly as beautiful a bride as you were.”

She smiled. “Flatterer.”

“Not a bit. It’s the absolute truth.”

“You
were
a gorgeous bride,” Aunt Ada agreed. “That veil with the rosettes…”

And they were off again, discussing gauze and ribbons and something called a furbelow. That last one sounded dirty, but he figured it probably wasn’t, if they were discussing it with such enthusiasm.

The three of them entered the great hall, where the wedding breakfast was to be held. He gazed down into his wife’s animated features and felt the usual clutch to his heart. Would he ever stop feeling it, this pleasure of knowing she was his? That she would always be his?

He’d been told that the feeling would mute over time, but he doubted that. Two months after his wedding, there were still days when he looked at her and felt as if he’d stumbled into a dream from which he’d awaken any moment to find himself bereft again.

“Mr. Pinter!” called a voice, and he glanced over to see Freddy Dunse, Lady Stoneville’s American cousin, heading for him. He and Freddy had played a small part in bringing Stoneville and his wife together a year ago, almost to the day.

As Freddy reached them, Celia looped her arm through Jackson’s and said proudly, “You have to call him Sir Jackson now, Freddy. He was knighted for solving Mama’s and Papa’s murders.
And
for saving me from the villains responsible.”

“Which is also why they made him Chief Magistrate,” Aunt Ada pointed out, still preening with pride over both preferments. “About time, I say.”

Jackson sighed. His two magpies had been boasting of his success to everyone they saw. “Ignore them, Freddy. You can call me whatever you please.” Having spent most of his life despising people of rank, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about being one of them.

“Oh, but that’s why I want to talk to you, old chap!” Freddy said. “I want to hear firsthand the tale of how you rescued Lady Celia … Lady Pinter … oh, whatever you English call the knighted ladies.”

“Lady Pinter,” Celia said firmly.

She’d had a choice between keeping her loftier title or taking Jackson’s name upon her marriage. It still pleased him that she’d chosen the latter.

“And ladies can’t be knighted,” Celia added gently, “only men.”

“Though in this case the lady deserved to be knighted, since she played a part in catching the villain,” Jackson said.

“She
di
d
?” Freddy gazed at Celia with new admiration. “Tell me
everything.
I want to hear whatever they left out of the papers. Were there swords? I know someone was shot. Was there lots and lots of blood?”

“Freddy!” Celia exclaimed as Aunt Ada gaped at Freddy, aghast. “We’re not going to talk about that at Gran’s wedding!”

“I don’t know why not. She married a general. He knows something about guns and blood, I daresay.”

“Then go talk to
him,
” Celia said. “I swear, you’re as bad as your cousin.”

That was true. Lady Stoneville had quite the fondness for vivid accounts of murder and mayhem.

But Freddy had another, more compelling fondness. Jackson leaned over to murmur, “There’s pie, my good fellow. Right over there. Three kinds.”

“Steak and kidney?” Freddy asked, eyes lighting up.

“You’ll have to go see. I haven’t had any yet.”

That was all it took to have Freddy bounding over to his wife Jane and dragging her to the table to help him figure out what kind of pie it was.

“Good heavens,” Aunt Ada exclaimed. “What is the matter with that young man?”

“He’s a good sort. He’s just a little … different. And speaking of different…” Jackson murmured as he saw Ned ambling toward them.

Celia followed Jackson’s gaze and tensed.

Then Ned spotted them, and the blood drained from his face. He very markedly turned and walked in another direction.

“What was that all about?” Celia asked.

“Who knows?” Jackson said, though he allowed himself a private little smile.

“Oh, look,” Aunt Ada said, “the newlyweds have entered. I must go pay my respects. Are you coming, Jackson?”

“Go on,” he said. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

Someone else was approaching, and Jackson was none too happy about it. He hadn’t seen Devonmont since the house party and wouldn’t mind never seeing the man again, but since Devonmont was his new sister-in-law’s cousin, that was unlikely.

As the man neared them, Celia cast Jackson an assessing glance. “You do know he never meant a thing to me.”

“That makes me only slightly less inclined to smash his face in.”

“Jackson!” she said laughingly. “You would never do any such thing.”

“Try me.” He glanced at her. “Don’t let this sober façade fool you, sweeting. When it comes to you, I can be as jealous as the next man.”

“Well, you have no reason.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek and whisper, “You’re the only man I’ll ever love.”

He was still reveling in that remark when Devonmont reached them. “I take it this would not be a good time for me to kiss the bride?” he drawled.

Jackson glared at him.

“That’s what I thought,” Devonmont said, laughing. “But seriously, Pinter, you’re a very lucky man.”

“How well I know it,” Jackson said.

“And I say most sincerely that your wife is a very lucky woman as well.”

Jackson was taken aback. “Thank you, sir,” he managed.

After Devonmont nodded and walked away, Celia said, “Surely that softens you toward him a little.”

“Perhaps,” Jackson conceded. “Though it’s a good thing Lyons isn’t here. I don’t think I could be civil to both in one day.”

She was still laughing when her grandmother rang a bell to gain their attention.

“Thank you all for joining me in celebrating my wedding.” Gran tucked her hand into the crook of her new husband’s elbow. “I may be an old fool sometimes, but I am a happy old fool.”

She gazed around at the guests, who consisted of only her family and close relations like Devonmont. “As you know, little more than a year ago, I was ashamed of how my grandchildren were living their lives and mortified that they were called ‘hellions’ by everyone in society. So I took measures that I came to see were a bit harsh.

“Yet my grandchildren not only rose to the challenge I set for them, but exceeded it. What is more, I have come to understand that their being hellions is not all bad—if not for their strong wills, I doubt they would have found such wonderful spouses or succeeded so admirably in their various endeavors. So today I wish to tell them two things. One, I am tremendously proud of my hellions.”

That brought a round of applause, which made her color.

When she went on, her voice was choked. “And two, thank you for giving me such beautiful great-grandchildren—at last.” As laughter filled the room, a sparkle entered her eye. “I promise to dote on them and indulge them—”

“And not meddle in their lives?” Jarret called out.

“That, I do not promise,” she said archly, which brought another round of laughter. “Although I shall
try
to restrain my meddling to matters within my purview.”

“I daresay your brothers find that less than reassuring,” Jackson told Celia.

She got a funny look on her face, as did his aunt. He didn’t have a chance to wonder about it, however, before toasts were being proposed and the hall became a veritable sea of congratulations and speechmaking.

After that was done and people began to mingle, helping themselves to the food laid out on the large tables, Mrs. Masters hurried up to her sister to say, “I’m going up to see the babies. Do you and Mrs. Norris wish to come?”

“Let’s all go,” Celia said, taking firm hold of Jackson’s arm.

“All right,” he said, a bit bewildered by her determination to drag him along. He’d seen the babies just last month. Still, Aunt Ada hadn’t yet, and he supposed he could endure seeing them again.

When they entered the nursery, the new nurse instantly cautioned them to be quiet, since both infants were sleeping.

Last time he and Celia had entered the nursery, he’d briefly worried about her reaction to being in it so soon after they’d learned the truth about her parents’ deaths, but her infatuation with the new babies had seemed to banish any bad memories.

Today, however, he wondered if those memories had returned. She was oddly pensive. She said nothing as they gazed at Lady Prudence Sharpe, Stoneville’s plump golden-haired daughter, who looked like a cherub out of a painting. Even Jackson couldn’t help agreeing with his aunt that the babe was “adorable.”

Celia remained silent when they went to stare at Master Hugh Sharpe, Jarret’s son and heir, a black-headed, restless child who sucked his thumb in his sleep.

“That one is a little hellion in the making,” his aunt predicted. Mrs. Masters agreed.

Then Aunt Ada glanced at Mrs. Masters. “Perhaps we should return to the breakfast.”

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Masters said with a veiled look at Celia.

“We’ll be along soon,” Celia said, to his surprise.

His surprise grew more acute when the other two insisted on taking the nurse with them. “Alone at last,” he murmured, thinking Celia might want a private moment with him. Though the nursery was a strange place for it.

“Yes. I have something to tell you, Jackson.” Taking his hand, she laid it on her belly. “I’m fairly certain that you and I are going to have a child of our own soon.”

He stared at her, stunned speechless.

At his continued silence, an anxious look crossed her face. “I know it’s perhaps a bit sooner than we expected, but—”

“It’s wonderful,” he choked out. “Absolutely wonderful.” He smoothed his hand over her belly. “I can’t imagine anything better than having a child with you, my love. But are you sure?”

She relaxed. “As sure as anyone can be at this point. Your aunt and I think I may be nearly three months along, so…”

When she trailed off with a blush, he added up numbers in his head, then let out a laugh. “It probably happened that night in the cottage.”

“Or the night in my bedchamber.”

“Then it’s a good thing I came to my senses and gave you that ‘proper proposal’ you demanded. Or I’d be staring down the barrel of your percussion rifle just about now.”

“I doubt that. I would just have married the duke,” she teased.

He scowled. “Over my dead body.”

She laughed. “You know perfectly well you would have proposed long before I knew I was with child.”

“Ah, but would you have said yes? I thought you once told me that a lady never surrenders.”

“She doesn’t.” Eyes sparkling, she buried her fingers in his hair and drew his head down to hers. “Except where love is concerned. I’ve come to realize that in matters of love, a clever lady
always
surrenders.”