Jack of Hearts (33 page)

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Authors: Marjorie Farrell

Tags: #Regency Historical

BOOK: Jack of Hearts
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“I am sorry. Should I have been doing something for you…?” Her voice trailed off, and Jack gave such a delighted laugh that Anne finally relaxed and laughed with him.

“There will be many opportunities in the future, I hope, so you can even out the debits and the credits, my dear, if that is what you are worried about.”

His image was so absurd and yet so apt that Anne could not get it out of her mind as they finally made their way back to the ballroom. Column one: kisses. There the sums added up. They were even. Column two: intimate caresses. Oh, dear, she was in debt there. Column three: exquisite and indescribable pleasure. His credit was so large she couldn’t imagine how she could ever make it up, but only hoped she would find a way.

 

Chapter Twenty-two

 

Anne fell asleep quickly that night and slept much later than usual. When she awoke, she could hear the patter of raindrops against the window and burrowed under the covers. The rhythm of the rain was lulling her into a delicious state between waking and sleeping, where she could imagine herself in Jack’s arms, when she heard a knock at her door.

“What is it?” she called, annoyed at the interruption.

“Begging your pardon, miss, but Miss Wheeler told me to tell you that Sergeant Gillen is here.”

Anne shook her head to clear it. “Sergeant Gillen? He can’t be here, he’s in Yorkshire.”

“He rode all the way, miss, and a right mess he is too. It looks like he hasn’t slept for days.”

“Hand me my wrapper, Mary.” What on earth had brought Patrick Gillen to London? Anne worried as she tied her dressing gown around her.

“Where is the sergeant, Mary?”

“In the kitchen, miss. Miss Wheeler is trying to get him to eat something, but he says he can’t relax until he speaks to you.”

Anne hurried down to the kitchen and there was Patrick Gillen, looking just as exhausted as Mary had described. He was standing by the stove, warming his hands while Sarah sat and watched him.

“Whatever are you doing here, Patrick?” Anne exclaimed.

“I am sorry to break in on ye in such a state, Miss Heriot, but I couldn’t trust the news to anyone else.”

“Sit down, Patrick, and tell me.” Anne slipped into a chair and motioned him into another.

He sat down at last and, running a hand through his hair, turned his head so his good eye faced her. “There’s been trouble at the Shipton mill, Miss Heriot.”

“What kind of trouble, Patrick?”

“A fire in the sorting shed, which burned it to the ground.”

Anne gasped. “The children?”

“No, no, they’re all right. It was at night. Yer cousin thinks it was Ned Gibson, miss, and he has all the bloody troopers in Yorkshire out lookin’ for him.”

Anne was quiet for a minute, then said regretfully, “I should have settled this before I left. I should have done something about Ned Gibson.”

“He certainly had a motive, Anne,” Sarah said quietly.

“Revenge for being let go,” agreed Anne.

“Or determination that the machine would be replaced,” Patrick said coolly. “But this time I am not sure Ned Gibson is behind it at all.”

“But who else would have a reason, Patrick?”

“Yer cousin, for one.”

“Joseph! Why, he would never do anything to slow production,” responded Anne with a touch of humor.

“Under usual circumstances, no. But the news of yer betrothal might have driven him to it.”

“What do you mean, Patrick? He has known I wouldn’t marry him for months.”

“ ‘Tis one thing to know something and another entirely to see it become real.”

“I know you don’t like Joseph, Patrick, but you are letting it cloud your judgment,” Anne said disapprovingly.

“I don’t think Ned Gibson is a violent man.” Patrick hesitated. “Yer cousin has written to you with the news of the fire, but I wanted to make sure you heard it from me first. If you return to Yorkshire before you’re married and another ‘accident’ occurs, then Trantor inherits everything.”

“What do you recommend, Patrick?” Anne asked coolly.

“I don’t know when ye’re planning to get married, miss, but I suggest ye don’t return to Yorkshire until ye’ve tied the knot!”

“I am planning to marry in the Wetherby chapel, Patrick,” Anne said stiffly. “I don’t believe my cousin is capable of harming me.”

She stood up. “Make sure the sergeant gets some food into him, Sarah. And order hot water for a bath. You look about ready to collapse, Patrick,” she continued, her tone softening. “I may not agree with you about my cousin, but I’m grateful for your loyalty.”

* * * *

“Bloody stubborn woman,” exclaimed Patrick after the kitchen door closed behind Anne. “She should not go back to Wetherby until she is Lady Aldborough. At least she chose Jack Belden. She’s a smart lass in everything but this.”

Sarah busied herself at the stove, filling the teapot and dishing out a bowl of porridge, which she set in front of Patrick.

“Do you really think she would be in danger?”

Patrick looked up from his porridge, which was half eaten already. “By God, I was hungry! As for Joseph Trantor… I don’t know, Sarah. But ‘tis better to take no chances, don’t ye agree? If she comes back as Miss Heriot, he still has a chance…”

“To do what, Patrick? To kill her?” Sarah shivered.

“Maybe not. Maybe only to frighten her into marrying him.”

“Why wouldn’t he have done that sooner?”

“I don’t have any answers, Sarah. But there are enough questions to keep her in London till she is Lady Aldborough.”

“On that part, we’re agreed.”

“So ye’ll convince her?”

“Yes, and you might work on Lord Aldborough. But not until you’ve had time to rest.”

“I’m not fit to be showin’ myself to anyone this way,” muttered Patrick. “I didn’t expect to be seein’ ye here in the kitchen, Sarah,” he added with an embarrassed smile. “I thought ye’d be enjoyin’ yer rest after a night of dancin’. I’m assumin’ ye’ve been doin’ a good deal of dancin’ here in London.”

“I have been fortunate enough to meet a few gentlemen who make sure I am not holding up the wall,” Sarah told him stiffly, hurt that he seemed to be
pleased
that she’d been enjoying herself.

Patrick stumbled up. “I’m just goin’ to fall into bed, so don’t ye bother with the hot water till later,” he told her.

“Just tell Mrs. Collins when you want it, then, Patrick.”

Sarah sat there after he left, looking down at her cup of tea. It had been weeks since she’d seen him, and he’d hardly looked at her. Here she had been foolishly missing him, and he had clearly forgotten her and the kisses they’d shared.

* * * *

Anne dressed quickly and had a footman bring her some tea and muffins in the morning room. She sat in front of the fire, listening to the rain beat down against the window, nibbling absentmindedly at her muffin. She
couldn’t
believe her cousin would wish to harm her. She had never believed it. He might be a harsh man, but surely he had a fondness for her, not just for her fortune. No, Ned Gibson was the most likely culprit. She would have to leave London as soon as possible. It wouldn’t look good to go so soon after her betrothal, but she couldn’t worry about the gossips. They would think that she cared nothing for Jack, that she had gone home as soon as she’d gotten what she came for. But they would have thought that anyway, she told herself, whomever she married and however she married him. She hoped Jack would understand why she had to go. The mills were as important to him now as they were to her, albeit for different reasons.

She sighed. She had to admit to herself, at least, that she didn’t want to go, that for once in her life she didn’t wish to be practical. She had wanted to play the lady this morning, to stay in bed and imagine what it would be like to lie there on a rainy morning with Jack Belden beside her. She had wanted to dream about his kisses, to lose herself in the memory of the pleasure he had given her. And to daydream of the musicale tonight, where they might have found some time to be alone together. She wanted another few weeks of enjoying just how compatible she and her husband-to-be were, at least in one area of marriage.

Now she would be leaving him behind. How much this would affect the fragile beginning of their relationship, she didn’t know. But she had no choice and could only hope he would understand.

* * * *

Patrick slept for only a few hours and then sank gratefully into the tub that had been brought up to his apartments. He would have given anything to stay and soak the stiffness out, but he was in too much of a hurry to see Jack Belden. He only had time for washing, he reminded himself, not for lolling around.

He set off for the Aldborough town house, praying that Jack would be in. When the butler admitted him and showed him into the library, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Gillen. I was surprised to hear you announced,” Jack said with a welcoming smile that offset the puzzled look on his face when he saw Patrick.

“I am sorry to be disturbin’ ye, sor, but I’ve just ridden down from Yorkshire on a matter of some importance to Miss Heriot. And may I add my congratulations, my lord,” Patrick added with a wide smile. “I was hopin’ all along that she would choose ye. But then, I should have trusted Miss Heriot. She’s a sensible woman…except for now, when she’s bein’ so stubborn. Which is why I’m here.”

“What
does
bring you here, Sergeant?”

“There was a fire in one of the mills, sor.”

Jack frowned. “You must think there is some connection to what happened this winter, or you wouldn’t be here, Patrick.”

“I do, sor. And we still don’t know who’s responsible for that, either, do we?”

“But you have your suspicions?”

“I do. Joseph Trantor has a very good reason to do something that would bring Miss Heriot back before she has a chance to marry.”

“Yes, Miss Heriot’s fortune has always been a believable motive,” mused Jack. “I know you don’t like him, but do you really think this Trantor capable of murder?”

“I don’t know. But as I’ve told Miss Heriot, Ned Gibson never struck me as the violent sort.”

“What do you suggest I do, Sergeant Gillen?”

“Marry Miss Heriot immediately, sor.”

“There is nothing I would like better,” Jack murmured. “But she will have something to say about that.”

“She already has, sor. She’s leaving for Yorkshire tomorrow!”

“Is she at home now?”

“Yes, sor.”

“Then let’s continue planning our strategy with her.”

* * * *

So Anne would leave him behind in London, thought Jack as they walked. He didn’t care that much about
ton
gossip, but he had to admit it would be rather humiliating to be left behind only a few days after his betrothal announcement. It made him feel rather like a parcel that Anne had come to town to purchase and was going to have shipped to her later!

* * * *

Anne and Sarah were in the morning room when Jack walked in on them unannounced. “Sergeant Gillen is in the library, Miss Wheeler. Perhaps you would like to make sure that he has some refreshment?”

It may have been phrased as a suggestion, but Sarah knew an order when she heard one. With an apologetic glance at Anne, she left.

“I suppose Patrick told you all,” Anne said quietly.

“The question is, were
you
going to tell me or just go baring off to Yorkshire alone?”

“I was going to write you a letter explaining why.”

“Perhaps you would like to explain it to me now?”

“I
have
to go—you must understand that.”

“I know the mills are very important to you. And I agree we must discover who is behind this vandalism. But why disregard Patrick’s advice? Marry me before you go, Anne. I’ll get a special license, and we can be wed and on our way in a few days.”

“I want to wed from my home, Jack, just as we planned. And I don’t see how marrying in a rush here in London will help.”

“It might save your life, damn it!”

“I cannot believe that Joseph would ever hurt me.”

“And what if you’re wrong?”

“Suppose I am wrong? Then what will marrying now accomplish? We’ll never really know if Joseph was behind this or not. And…”

“And what?” Jack asked quietly.

“And we could both be in danger.”

“I appreciate your concern for my safety, my dear, but I think I can handle one rebellious Yorkshireman,” Jack said with a touch of sarcasm that annoyed Anne.

“Tha might or tha might not. At any rate, I am going home, and I am going home as Miss Anne Heriot. We will marry as we planned, in Wetherby, as soon as this matter has been settled.”

“Do you really think I will let you go alone?”

“You cannot stop me, Lord Aldborough,” Anne said frostily.

“I am not trying to stop you, but I am going with you, so come down off your high horse, Annie!”

Anne couldn’t help smiling. No one called her Annie except her old nurse and Elspeth’s father. “You can’t leave your aunt and cousins, Jack. I am sure I will be fine. It is Ned Gibson behind this, and once he is arrested, the danger will be over.”

Ignoring her, Jack stood up and started pacing. “You are right, I can’t leave my aunt and the girls tomorrow, Anne. I have to make sure they are taken care of while I am away. Once I am up there, I’ll not come down again before the wedding. I’ll need to make travel arrangements for them, too,” he added thoughtfully.

“I want to leave tomorrow, Jack. And wouldn’t it look better if you followed after me?”

Jack laughed. “I think we have to give up worrying about appearances, Anne. The gossips will enjoy themselves whether we leave separately or together.”

“I’ll have Patrick and Sarah with me, Jack. I want to get
home
.”

Jack sighed. “All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “I won’t be that far behind you if I am riding,” he admitted. “But I don’t like it.”

Anne was so grateful for his understanding that she got up and went to him. “I know this might make you look a little foolish, Jack, and I thank you for understanding my need to go.”

“You think that’s what I’m worried about? That I’ll look a little foolish? I am worried about you, damn it,” he said angrily and grasping her by the shoulders, he leaned down and kissed her.

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