Heroes of Heartbreak Creek 02 (25 page)

At the finality in his tone, a chill wrapped around her heart. She had hoped for a true proposal, but this sounded more like good-bye.

Releasing her shoulders, he dragged a hand through his sun-streaked hair. “I wanted to talk to you after you came back from the weasel’s, but then Ash sent me to find Thomas, and . . . well . . .”

Just say it
, she begged silently, tears burning behind her eyes.
Say you love me or say good-bye.

He stared off into the distance for a moment, then blurted out, “Don’t marry Adderly, Josie. I may not have a title or a fancy house, but I can give you more than he ever could. I can love you like you deserve. I can be there for you and Jamie. I can—Jesus, why are you crying?”

“Are you finally proposing to me, Mr. Jessup?”

A great sigh escaped his chest. The crooked smile she loved spread across his weathered face. “I am, Miss Cathcart.”

“Then say it.”

Something raw and hungry built in his eyes.

She felt the heat of it low in her belly. Then lower. A shivery, tingly sensation racing along the nerves under her skin.

“I’m not much of a talker.” Eyes locked on hers, he reached out and brushed his fingertips across her cheek, along her lace collar, then down the buttons of her short jacket to her waist. “Wouldn’t you rather I show you?” His thumb brushed over the puckered nub pressing against the cloth of her dress.

Her legs went weak. Her lungs faltered. Trembling and breathless, she leaned into his hand.
Yes . . . show me. No. Ask me, then show me. Now.

Frowning, he drew back. “What’s that?” He poked a finger at her chest. “Is that paper?”

“It’s your note. Continue with—”

“You kept it? That’s sweet.”

“You were saying . . .”

Grinning, he dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her closer. “Ash has offered me a position at his ranch in Colorado.” He grinned and gave her a hard, fast kiss. “We’ll have a home.” Another kiss. “Enough money to send Jamie to a good school.” A slow lick along her bottom lip. “Maybe even a—”

“Stop.” She pushed him away while she still could. “You’re proposing to me because you have employment?”

“Well . . . partly.”

“Not because you love me.”

“That, too.”

“Or because you can’t bear to live without me?”

He let out a deep breath. “Hell. I did something wrong, didn’t I? Tell me what it is and I’ll fix it.”

“Ask me properly, that’s how you can fix it. Tell me that you love me. That you need me. That I’m as necessary to you as the air you breathe. I’ve never been proposed to before, and I want it done properly.”

A smile broke over his face. One that dazzled her anew and brought more tears to her eyes. “Marry me, Josephine Cathcart, and I’ll love you ’til I die.”

Near enough. “I would be honored, Rayford Jessup.”

“About time,” Lord Kirkwell said, stepping out from behind a tree.

Josephine almost fainted.

“Evening, Miss Cathcart. Congratulations, Rafe.”

“Jesus, Ash. Can’t a fellow have some privacy when he’s proposing?”

“Not when his jailer is headed this way. He looks mad, so he does. Give her a kiss, lad, then let’s head him off. Apparently Thomas has escaped again.”

 • • • 

Spirits were high at dinner that night. Lord Brantley, an older man with an overabundance of energy and a timid wife, was a gracious and jovial host, and his guests were as excited as he seemed to be about the race the next day.

Josephine could scarcely eat and passed most of the meal in a daze.

She was marrying Rayford Jessup.

She and Jamie were going to America.

Not even Adderly’s officious attentions could dim her joy. If it hadn’t been for Maddie’s effusive well wishes earlier, and Lord Kirkwell’s insistence that it was all his doing, she might have thought she’d dreamed it up. Although she was anxious to share the news, she wanted to wait until Rafe could be by her side before she told Jamie. Nor had she told Father. Anticipating an unpleasant scene, she thought it best to tell him after the race.

As for the baron, although she wouldn’t mention Rafe’s proposal unless necessary, she couldn’t, in good conscience, allow William to continue in his misconceptions about their relationship. Toward that end, and with some trepidation, she asked him to walk with her after dinner.

Lanterns on the balustrade lit their way as they strolled along the terrace. Down below, evenly spaced along the garden paths, flaming torches cast dancing reflections on the still water of the ponds.

The night was cool but clear, which boded well for the race. Although now, with his employment in Heartbreak Creek secure, it wasn’t as imperative for Rafe that Pems do well. Still, she wanted the two of them to win, not only for the prize that would bear their names, but to show the world the miracle Rafe had wrought.

“There was something you wished to say to me?”

Startled from her reverie, she glanced at the man walking beside her. She guessed by his complacent smile that William expected her to say she was accepting his proposal. The thought of how closely she had come to doing just that sent a chill through her.

When they reached the far end of the deserted terrace, she stopped and faced him. “I am honored that you asked me to be your wife, William, but I cannot marry you. Not even to give Jamie your name, and certainly not to save my father from his creditors. I don’t know what I’ll do or where I’ll go. Perhaps to Scotland. Perhaps to America. But I will not stay here in a loveless marriage. I’m sorry.”

She braced herself, not knowing how he would take her refusal. Disappointment. A few harsh words. An argument perhaps. But nothing could have prepared her for the startling reaction he gave.

“A
merica!” The word burst out of him with a fervor that took her aback. “You can’t go to America!” He stepped toward her, his face twisting in fury. “I will not allow you to take my son away from me!”

“He was never your son, William. By your choice, not mine.” She’d done her best to be civil, but if he was determined to be difficult, she wouldn’t stay to be browbeaten. “Good night.” Whirling, she started for the terrace door.

“Wait!” His hand caught her shoulder, whipped her back around. She stared into a face she scarcely recognized. “Leave if you must, Josephine, but don’t take Jamie from me.”

“
Take
him from you? You never had him. Nor will you.”

“No, you’re not listening!” He shook her roughly, his fingers digging into her arm. “You mustn’t do this! I need him!”

His vehemence shocked her. William had never before been violent with her. “Release me,” she ordered in an unsteady voice.

He seemed not to hear. “The barony needs him.” His voice wheedled, but his grip remained tight on her arm.

“You’re hurting me, William.”

“You’re young. You can have more children.”

“So can you. Stop or—”

“No, I can’t! Would I be begging you like this if I could?” With a curse, he abruptly let her go and stalked away, fists at his sides.

She stared after him, held motionless by shock. “What are you saying?”

“Oh, Christ.” Stopping by the balustrade, he pressed a hand over his eyes. “Just . . . don’t. Don’t take him away. Please. I’m begging you.”

She heard the tremor in his voice, and knew something was terribly wrong. “Why can’t you have more children, William?”

Jerking his hand away, he rounded on her. “For God’s sake, Josephine! Why are you pushing me like this? Can’t you simply believe me when I say Jamie is my last hope?”

“Last hope of what? What’s wrong?”

“Bloody hell.” He gave a broken laugh. “I forgot how persistent you can be.” Blinking hard, he lifted his face to the starlit sky. He looked defeated. Beaten. A shadow of the prideful man she had once known. After a moment, he took a deep breath and faced her again, his expression bleak. “I’m diseased.”

Diseased?
What did that mean? “Are you dying?”

“Better that I were.” He looked away. “I have a venereal disease.”

The words churned in her mind.
Venereal disease.
She was ignorant, but not that ignorant. She knew such infections were common among prostitutes. But she had never thought William dissolute enough to make use of such a creature.

“It’s called gonorrhea,” he went on when she continued to gape in mute disbelief. “I’ve had bouts of it on and off for years. The doctors have dosed me with turpentine, extract of cubebs, copaiva, even solution of mercury. It helps for a while, but never seems to cure it completely. They say I will never sire children again.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m not sure if that’s because of the disease or the cure.”

“Wait.” She lifted a shaking hand. “You’ve had it for
years
? Am I . . . because of our involvement, will I . . . am I at risk?”

“No. Absolutely not.” He took a step toward her then stopped when she drew back, unable to hide her aversion. “You’re quite safe. I contracted it after Neddy was born.”

After?
Thoughts jumbled in her mind. “Does that mean your wife . . .”

“Yes.” That look of shame again. “I passed it on to her before I knew.”

Horror gripped her. “Is that why she lost her babies?”

“Yes.”

“Why she took her own life?”

“Yes. But she overreacted—”

“Overreacted!” Rage exploded inside her, drove the air from her lungs. Rage for his innocent wife. For the poor lost babies. For herself for ever considering this man worthy of her love. “And now . . . after causing your wife’s death . . . you propose to cause mine?”

“No!” He moved toward her. “It’s not like that! I would never—”

“Stop! Stay away from me!”

He stepped back, his mouth twisting into bitter lines. “Don’t worry. Gonorrhea isn’t like leprosy. You can’t catch it through casual . . . touching.”

She wanted to run from him, from this terrible revelation, but didn’t think her legs would carry her.

“Josephine, please . . .” He lifted a hand, saw her flinch, and with a look of regret, let his arm drop back to his side. “I would never infect you. I couldn’t. I’m . . . impotent. Incapable of . . . of sexual congress.”

Then why marry her at all? She knew he didn’t love her, despite his pursuit. And if not for love, or children, then why . . .

The answer almost buckled her knees. Jamie. The proposal, the sudden attention after so many years, all his grand promises, were simply to get Jamie.

Dear God.
She clutched at the balustrade, fearing her legs would give way.

Numbly, she heard him speaking in that wheedling tone again. “I know you don’t love me, Josephine. And after the way I treated you, I don’t blame you. But we can make this work. I’m a rich man. I can cover your father’s debts. Protect you. Give Jamie all the advantages due him as heir to a barony. I could never consummate the marriage, so you wouldn’t be at risk. And if you were discreet, I would even allow you to take lovers if that’s what—”

“William, stop!” She couldn’t bear to hear more. “Listen to what you’re saying. How can you speak of Jamie as the heir while Neddy is still living? How unfeeling are you?”

He stiffened. “I am simply trying to do my duty, Josephine. To you. To Jamie. To the barony. Try to understand.”

“I cannot. And I never will.” She could scarcely even look at him. Yet in the midst of the chaos in her mind, one thought rose to the surface. One that was every bit as horrifying as his revelation. “Does my father know?”

“I . . . he . . . may have heard things. But we never . . .”

Clapping a hand over her mouth, she fled from him into the house. Seeing a footman in the entry, she had him show her to an unused salon, then told him to find Horatio Cathcart and send him to her immediately.

As he hurried away, she clasped her arms around her trembling body and struggled for calmness, wondering to what depths her father had sunk. Her lips felt numb. Her heart seemed incased in ice. Bad enough that he would offer her to the highest bidder, but to knowingly push her into a sham marriage that would be no marriage at all?

Father . . . how could you?

The door opened and her father walked in, scowling in impatience. “What is it, girl, that you must pull me away from a winning hand?”

“Did you know?”

Something in her tone must have alerted him. He turned to close the door, then faced her again, his expression guarded. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“When you fostered this unholy alliance with Adderly, did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That he’s diseased!” She shrieked the word, not caring who heard.

“Lower your voice! Do you want the servants to hear?”

“Answer me! Did you know he has a venereal disease?”

He didn’t have to speak. She saw the telltale flush, the sidewise slide of his gaze. She knew all his signals when he lied. She had seen them endless times.

It left her breathless. She didn’t know whether to scream or weep. She didn’t know how her heart continued to beat. Her own father. The man who was supposed to be her protector. Who was supposed to love her.

She shook her head, still reeling from the blow. “I know I brought shame to you. I know I wasn’t the daughter you wanted. But, Father . . . to do this? Why?”

“Josephine—”

“No! I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ve heard them too many times, and your actions speak loudly enough.” Drawing on the remnants of her tattered pride, she hiked her chin. “It is clear to me that I am only a pawn in your endless quest to further your own interests. I understand and accept that. Perhaps, I even deserve it for the embarrassment I have caused you. But Jamie is innocent in all this. And I will not allow you to use him as callously as you’ve used me.”

“You’re being overly dramatic.”

“Am I?” She hated that she couldn’t keep her voice from shaking, that this man still had the power to disappoint and hurt her. Even now, he looked at her with that bored, condescending expression he reserved for women behaving in what he considered an unreasonable, overly emotional, irrational manner.

She would tolerate it no more. She would tell him everything and be done with it. The lies, the secrets, the hidden purposes were over.

“I have refused Baron Adderly’s offer of marriage, Father, and have, instead, accepted Rayford Jessup’s. Jamie and I will leave with him for America immediately after the race tomorrow. We will not return.”

His expression shifted from shock to fury, that vein in his temple pulsing like a parasitic worm moving beneath his skin. “The wrangler? You would turn down a title—legitimacy for your son—wealth and position—for a
horse wrangler
?”

“I already have.”

“What about our debts? The baron could save us from bankruptcy. Does that mean nothing to you?”

She shrugged. “I am sad for it, but they’re your debts, Father. Not mine.”

“You benefited, too.”

“I did. And I thank you for that. But I’m weary of being dragged into your delusions, and serving as a lure to bring wealthy investors into your latest scheme. I am done with it.” She started to move past him, then stopped and looked him hard in the eye. “I suggest you bet wisely tomorrow, so at least you might gain the means to flee your creditors.”

“You’re a selfish fool.”

“Good-bye, Father.” Head high, she walked from the room. But once in the hall, bravado deserted her. She felt adrift, suffocating in a sea of emotion. She didn’t know where to go. What to do. She needed Rafe, but he was under guard in the stable.

Then a new thought burst into her mind, and fear closed like a fist around her heart. Surely neither Father nor William would try to take Jamie from her. Would they?

Breathless with terror, she raced up the stairs.

Flinging open the door of the bedroom she and her son shared, she saw Henny pulling the curtains closed and Jamie already asleep. Thank goodness he was such a heavy sleeper or her abrupt arrival might have awakened him.

“Henny, we have to get Jamie away,” she whispered.

After briefly explaining Rafe’s proposal and how Father and the baron had reacted to it, she bundled her sleeping son and lifted him from the bed. Motioning to the maid to grab the reticule containing the money from her pawned jewels, she followed Henny into the hall, hovering beside her as she locked the door. “I’m probably being overly cautious,” she whispered as they hurried down the servants’ stair. “But if you had seen the baron’s face when I said I wouldn’t marry him . . .”

“Faith, miss,” the maid whispered back. “I’m just happy you’re marrying Mr. Jessup instead of Adderly. He was never right for you, if you don’t mind me saying. And what an adventure the four of us will have in America. Come along now, our Jamie will be safe in Gordon’s and my room.”

Josephine’s arms were aching from Jamie’s dead weight by the time Henny stopped before a closed door. Knocking softly, she opened it just enough to peer inside. “Are ye decent, love? I’ve brought the miss and Jamie.”

Luckily, Gordon was as happy as Henny about Josephine’s news, and just as ready to help hide Jamie in case Father or the baron tried to prevent her from taking him to America. “I doubt they will do anything,” she told them as she laid her son down on a pallet of blankets Henny had hastily spread in the corner behind a screen—thank God he was still asleep—“but until I can talk to Lord Kirkwell about what to do, I want him in a safe place.”

“’Tis no trouble, miss,” Henny assured her. “Sure, and Master Jamie is like one of our own. He’ll be safe here for the night.”

Gordon nodded in agreement. “We’ll watch over him until you come in the morning before the race.”

“Bless you both. I’ll tell you if there’s a change in plans.”

Several minutes later, she knocked gently on another door, this one with gilt trim and located on the top floor of the wing reserved for the loftier guests.

Maddie opened the door. One look at Josephine, and she pulled her into the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Hopefully, nothing. Is the earl here?”

“He’s down in the billiards room, entering Rafe’s wager in the book.”

“I need a bet placed, as well.” She set her reticule on a table beside the door. “But that’s not why I’m here. I need your advice.”

“Certainly. Come sit by the fire and tell me how I can help.”

Out of a last lingering loyalty to her son’s father and the man she had once loved, she didn’t mention William’s disease, but did tell Maddie about his and Father’s strong reactions to her decision to marry Rafe instead of Adderly. “I worry that they might try to prevent me from taking Jamie to America.”

“Surely not.”

“Truthfully, I don’t know what they might do.” Too agitated to sit, Josephine rose and paced before the marble fireplace, her hands clasped tightly at her waist. “He’s safe with Henny and Gordon Stevens for now. But I wonder if it would be better if he were away from here altogether. Perhaps Gordon could hide him on the ship we’ll be taking to America. Or on the earl’s freighter. No one would dare search that. I would go with him, but it might arouse suspicion if I went missing, too, don’t you think? Oh, I do wish I could talk to Rafe. He’s so calm and levelheaded.” She stopped before Maddie. “What do you think Lord Kirkwell would advise me to do?”

“Let’s send for him and see, shall we?” Rising from her chair, Maddie crossed to the bellpull beside the door, gave it a tug, then stood waiting. “Before he joined the Hussars, Ash was a forward rider with the green-jacketed Riflemen, and this is precisely the sort of intrigue he adores. I’m sure he’ll have a solution.”

After an interminably long few minutes, Lord Kirkwell’s man, Pringle, knocked on the door then entered, his necktie askew, his white hair in disarray, and pillow creases on the side of his face. “Yes, my lady,” he said with a ponderous sigh.

Maddie told him to fetch Lord Kirkwell from the billiards room straightaway, adding, “He might be upset at the interruption, but tell him I insist.”