Gallant Waif (30 page)

Jack needed a drink, so he went into the library and stopped dead. Kate was sitting in a wing chair. She looked up. “Millie is washing the floor in my room,” she said by way of explanation of her presence in the library.

He nodded. “That fellow has left.”

“It was very good of him to come all this way,” Kate said quietly. “He could have just sent these to me by mail.”

Jack watched the way her hands stroked the packet that still
lay
in her lap. There was a long silence.

“You seemed pleased to see him,” he said at last.

Kate sighed. “Yes, it is so wonderful to discover that I am not utterly alone in the world, after all.”

“You are not alone at all.”

“But I am, Jack,” she said softly. “Or at least I was.”

“You have my grandmother—” he began.
And me.

“Oh, Lady Cahill is a dear,” she interrupted, “but in truth she is no kin of mine. I am a charitable project she has taken on for the sake of my mother’s
memory, that
is all. She has been very kind and generous, and I am grateful to her for it, but you must see that I have no real claim on her. It is different to know that someone is part of your family, that you belong to them.”

Jack objected to that in the strongest terms. “You do not belong to that overfed, overdressed, fawning puffbag!”

“Mr Carstairs,” Kate reproved him coldly, “I will thank you to speak politely of Cousin Jeremiah in my presence. He is well built, not overfed in the least and I find his taste in clothes impeccable.” The look she cast on Jack’s stained buckskins was not lost on him. “Moreover, he has a kind heart and he came all the way here from Leeds only to meet me and to give me my grandmother’s jewellery.”

“Trumpery beads,” he snorted.

Kate bridled at his tone. “They may be trumpery beads to you, but they are all the jewellery I
possess,
and they belonged to my grandmother, whom I never met.”

She clutched the small packet of jewellery to her breast.

“My mother died when I was born and I never knew her. All I had of her were her pearls and her eyes. The pearls I had to sell, to pay our debts.”
And her eyes cost me my father’s love.
“You cannot understand what it means to me to know that my grandmother remembered me, for my father fell out with my grandparents before I was born and they never contacted us as far as I know.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

The bequest was far greater than its size or monetary value. Kate had only known her mother through others’ eyes—and the image had been tarnished with her own guilt. But now Kate had something tangible, from a grandmother who’d thought of her with love instead of blame. Who’d cared enough to send her a keepsake—one which was not tainted by her father’s resentment of Kate’s existence.

“You call them trumpery beads, but my mother may have worn these as a girl, don’t you see?” Her voice broke and she turned and fled upstairs.

Jack swore under his breath and ran his hand angrily through his hair. Damn him, did he always have to speak before he thought? He hadn’t meant to sneer at her pathetic little collection of jewellery; it had just been too much for him. First Francis had put him in a temper, with his damnably impertinent plans for Kate’s future, and then to come home and find Kate beaming with delight on some
oily Cit. .
.
it
was too much! And besides which, his leg was hurting him.-It was his own fault too, showing off before his friends. He would have to have it massaged again before it stiffened up on him any more.

“Carlos!” he bellowed. “Carlos!” He stumped his way morosely upstairs.

Chapter Thirteen

Damn
it all, Francis,” Jack exploded. “At least Tubby and Drew had the decency not to outstay their welcome. Haven’t you got anything better to do than to hang around here for weeks on end, eating me out of house and home?”

Francis chuckled.
“Not the least, dear boy.
I like it here. The fresh air, the scenery…” he raised his eyebrows significantly in the direction of the terrace, where Kate was strolling with her cousin “. .
.the
charming company.”

He took another sip of port and added ironically, “Oh, and of course you are a superlative host, Jack, old man. Make a chap feel so welcome.”

Jack growled under his breath. “A man can’t take a step in any direction without tripping over you or that damned Cole fellow.” He glared at a hapless vase of flowers. “And the place is so cluttered up with these stinking weeds!
Haven’t
either of you anything better to waste your blunt on? I don’t know which of you is worse—that blasted Cit bleating platitudes all over Kate and kissing her hand until it must be quite soggy—or you, mouthing flowery compliments at her like a blasted poet.”

“I do pride myself on my poetic talents, and little Kate seems to enjoy them too.”

“Little Kate? Miss Farleigh to you! I’ll thank you not to treat my grandmother’s ward with such familiarity, Francis.”

Francis’s grin broadened. “She asked me to call her Kate, dear boy, and I hate to refuse a lady’s request.”

Jack muttered something unintelligible and stomped out of the library, leaving Francis chuckling. Jack had been acting like a bear with a sore head for several weeks now, snapping and snarling at his guests for no good reason. Or no reason he could be brought to admit to.

Francis’s gaze sharpened on the pair on the terrace. His own so-called courtship posed no danger to Jack, but that Cole fellow was a serious contender. He had visited Kate morning and afternoon for the past three weeks, bringing her flowers, books and sweetmeats, though where he found the flowers at this time of year, and in the countryside, was more than Francis could guess. The man was obviously very plump in the pocket.

Francis frowned. He liked the fellow no better than Jack, though not for the same reasons. There was
a pushiness
about him that Francis disliked. Cole had pursued Kate from the moment they met with
a single
-mindedness and determination that to Francis’s eye smacked of the calculating, rather than the lover-like. His possessive attitude towards his “charming little cousin’ was increasing daily, and Francis suspected that Kate was finding it uncomfortable.

However, Jack’s open hostility to the man made it difficult for Kate to repel her cousin’s over-familiarity, for’they all knew Jack was just itching for any excuse to toss Cole out on his ear and forbid him the house. Cole was Kate’s cousin, after all, and her only living relative, and she wanted to be able to see him, even if she might not relish his possessive attitude towards her. Francis sighed and poured himself another drink.

“My dearest cousin,” Jeremiah Cole began.

Kate felt her stomach sinking. She’d known for some time that this was coming, and no amount of hinting had managed to dent her cousin’s obvious determination. Perhaps it was better to allow him to speak, and then it would be over. He took her hands in a moist grip.

“Perhaps you have been aware these last weeks of my desire, my very ardent desire, to make this relationship of ours a closer one.”

“Cousin Jeremiah, I am very happy to have you as my cousin—”

“But
I
am not,” he interrupted. “You must know, Kate, how I feel about you.” He pressed her hands against his broad chest. Kate tried to pull them away, but he only held them more tightly. “I am in love with you, Kate—madly, desperately—and I want you for my wife.”

“Cousin Jeremiah,” she said gently, “it is very kind—”

“Kind!
It is not kindness I feel for you, my beloved. It is love! I want you to be mine. You are all alone in the world. Allow me to care for you, to protect you, to love you for the rest of your life. Only give me your hand, sweet Kate.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment, Kate’s sense of humour got the better of her.
¹
‘Indeed, Cousin Jeremiah, you seem to have taken it whether I will or not,” she said, tugging to release her hands from his grip. He did not let go, but smiled, almost angrily, at her.

She said more firmly, “Please let me go, Cousin Jeremiah. You are hurting me.”

“And you are hurting me, Kate, by not answering. I asked you a question, one of the most important questions you will ever be asked in your life. Will you be my wife?”

“No, Cousin Jeremiah,” she said gently. “I am sorry.”

He frowned at her disbelievingly. “I don’t believe it!” he said, releasing her hands only to take her shoulder in a tight grip. “I don’t beheve it!” he repeated, shaking her quite hard. “I love you and I am sure that you love me.” His tone softened. “That is it, isn’t it, Kate? You are teasing me.” He pulled her hard against him and though Kate tried to push him away he was far too strong.

“Naughty girl to tease your Jeremiah like that,” he crooned, and before Kate realised what he was about he had planted his lips firmly over hers and was kissing her with a wet determination that filled her with revulsion. She struggled in vain as his hands stroked down her body and his thick tongue probed to enter her mouth.

Suddenly she found herself released. She staggered back against the balustrade as Jack thrust himself between her and her cousin.

“You filthy
swine,
keep your paws off her!” he roared, and let swing a punch that sent Cousin Jeremiah sprawling inelegantly on the flagstones. Jack stood over him, rolling up his sleeves, the light of battle fairly blazing from his eyes.

“How dare you maul a decent girl, you cowardly scum?”

Cousin Jeremiah scuttled backwards.

“Come on, you scurvy blighter.
It’s
one thing to bully a helpless female, and another to stand up to a man, isn’t it? Subject an innocent girl to your filthy lust, will you? Not on my property, you won’t. I’ll teach you a lesson in how to treat a lady—one you’ll never forget.”

Jack stepped forward, murder in his eyes, oblivious to Kate’s frantic jerking on his sleeve.

“Jack, stop it! You mustn’t. He didn’t hurt me.
Jack!’
she cried, but he was determined on his course. He moved purposefully towards Cousin Jeremiah, his fists bunched, blue eyes glittering with rage.

“Jack, he asked me to marry him!” screamed Kate in his ear.

At that Jack came to a dead halt. He swung around and stared at her in shock. The angry colour died from his face, leaving it a bleached grey.

“He what?” he croaked at last.

“He asked me to marry him,” repeated Kate quietly, belatedly realising she’d given Jack the wrong impression, but seeing no immediate way out—except violence. She’d seen enough violence.

“So that’s why…” Jack choked. He wrenched his eyes from her face and turned away. “
I.
. .see,” he muttered. Without looking at either of them, he left.

Kate gazed after him, biting her lip. There had been pain in his eyes. Because he thought she was to marry Cousin Jeremiah? She wanted to run after him and tell him she’d refused, but she was afraid that if she did Jack would return to his former rage and do Jeremiah a grave injury. And now that Jack had stopped her cousin she felt she could handle things herself. She might be angry with Jeremiah for the way he had forced his embraces on her, but much could be forgiven a man rejected in love, and he was still her cousin, after all.

She turned. “I think you’d better leave, Cousin Jeremiah. I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

He had struggled to his feet by now. His fright had passed, and was fast turning to indignation at the way he had been treated. “I must tell you, Cousin Kate, that I am deeply offended by that man’s treatment of me. I have a good mind to report him to the nearest magistrate. He is clearly a dangerous lunatic.”

Kate’s temper finally exploded. “How dare you say such a thing? If you must know, I think you got off lightly, for if I were a man I would have knocked you down much sooner. How dare he? How dare
you?
To force your kisses on me, and think to overcome my refusal by brute force! Report him to a magistrate if you dare, Cousin Jeremiah, and you will find yourself reported for assault—on me!”

Cousin Jeremiah blanched and calmed down immediately.
“Now, now, Kate, my dear, I did not mean it.
I.
. .I was upset. I think you must allow me the right to feel angry at being attacked so violently, but of course if it will upset you I will take no injudicious steps to have the matter followed up.”