Jack (The Jaded Gentlemen Book 4) (26 page)

Fanning slid onto the bench on the opposite side of the table, the same table they’d occupied the last time they’d endured the Weasel’s
hospitality. Nothing wrong with allowing a little comfortable predictability to creep into life.

Axel and Jack Fanning weren’t old, after all. They were merely… mature.

“Half the damned shire must be here tonight,” Fanning said, as the foam on his ale gradually settled. “Would that Vicar’s Bible
studies gathered as much support. How is Mrs. Belmont?”

Mrs. Belmont was counting the days—or nights—until the assembly, much like her husband. “Abigail thrives on motherhood. The child will
want for nothing, and it’s as if with that baby in her arms, Abigail doesn’t either. A man can feel…”

“Extraneous,” Fanning said. “Surplus to requirements. As when not five people are available for a game of whist, but six, and the poor
fellow who owns the premises is told to go bring his ledgers up to date, or write to some old chum in India. I am the host at Teak House, in theory at
least, but abruptly my earthly sanctuary has become overrun with chattering females abetted by my brother. He knows more bawdy jokes than both Mama and
Theodosia Hickman combined.”

A tavern maid hurried by, and at the next table, some half-drunken smallholder stuck out a booted foot and tripped her. She landed more or less in Jack
Fanning’s lap, which resulted in much laughter from those nearby, and a saucy smile for Fanning from the woman.

Fanning rose with the lady in his arms, set her on her feet, and kept hold of her by the wrist. He turned a ferocious glower on the neighboring table.

“Battery,” he snapped, “consists of a harmful or offensive touching of another’s person. Apologize to the lady or be given an
opportunity to admire my formal parlor on Monday morning, when I will have you bound over for the assizes.”

One did not interfere with the magistrate when he was about the king’s business—particularly not when his tone conjured images of a growling
tiger, complete with a switching tail. Axel kept his mouth shut, as did the lady.

“I meant no harm,” the young fellow grumbled.

“Had Miss Tansy fallen and struck her head against this post,”—Fanning delivered a hearty blow to solid wood—“she would have
suffered grievous injury, to say nothing of lost wages and humiliation. Whether you meant to cause harm or not is immaterial. You meant to trip her.”

The entire table looked sheepish, and Tansy’s detractor suffered a punch on the arm from the man next to him.
“Apologize, Wyatt. The lady coulda smacked her gob. My cousin lost a tooth that way.”

“I’m sor—”

Jack Fanning grew three inches taller on a single in-drawn breath. “When a gentleman tenders an apology to a lady, he does so
on his feet
.”

The crowd had not yet noticed this exchange, which was fortunate. Over the years, the Weasel had been the scene of a few mills in conjunction with the
darts championship, and Axel had no desire to explain to his lady how the king’s man—a sober, reasonable fellow, when not falling in
love—had started a general donnybrook.

The batterer scrambled to his feet and swiped a hand over unkempt hair. “Miss Tansy, I do apologize. I meant no harm.”

Tansy’s blush was most becoming.

“
And
?” Fanning added.

“And I won’t do it again.”

“
Ever,
” Fanning said, letting go of Tansy’s wrist. “If I were you, Miss Tansy, I’d serve the occupants of this table
last on every occasion.”

She bobbed a curtsey and scampered off, casting a smirk over her shoulder at Wyatt. The young men vacated their table and shuffled away in the direction of
the dartboard.

“They’ll be engaged by the time the assembly rolls around,” Axel said, when he wanted instead to knock Fanning’s head against the
post. “Well done. Was that a demonstration of the legendary diplomacy you exhibited in India?”

Fanning took his seat, gaze on the young men now lounging against the bar and trying to look adult.

“Do you know, I dropped my butler at the lending library this evening, and from thence he is walking back to Teak House. Despite this weather, I
could do with about twenty miles of forced march myself right now, in any direction away from this nonsense.”

Axel remained silent, for the king’s man wasn’t finished.

“In India,” Fanning said, “I didn’t exercise diplomacy so much as I translated. My domestics taught me the local languages, and I
was able to prevent some misunderstandings. I caused a few as well.”

The subject would do as a change in topic when Fanning was spoiling for a fight. “Is that how you were taken captive? In the midst of translation
duties?”

 “That’s one way to look at it. Another is that I became entangled in local politics, and my simple, straightforward English mind
wasn’t capable of foreseeing cause and effect as they would play out in the vastly more complicated arena of Indian society.”

“Like a debutante at a ball,” Axel said. “But like most of the young ladies, you eventually came right?”

The man staring at his ale across from Axel was not
right
. He was tired, irritable, and very likely besotted. About damned time he came home from
the jungles of memory.

“I came right eventually. My colonel had had me declared dead—attacked by a tiger, drowned, waylaid by brigands. In India, misfortune comes in
many fatal guises. The lady I married had third cousins who took exception to the behavior of some junior officers toward the local merchants. My capture
was intended to make a point. Because the colonel had no control over his men, the underlying offenses toward the merchants had gone unpunished, and thus
by way of retaliation—it’s complicated.”

“When you tried to atone for the ineptitude of your superior officers, you were instead made an example of.”

“Until I inconveniently escaped, and then the only course open to my colonel was to pretend he was overjoyed to see me alive.”

“Though doubtless, surplus to requirements.”

“Shut your mouth, Belmont.”

Axel lifted his tankard in a toast. “How’s Madeline?”

Fanning’s scowl deepened, which ought not to have been possible. “Madeline is exhausted. Theodosia Hickman has removed to Teak House. She
became dangerously ill with a lung fever, and Madeline was up most of the night caring for her.”

How would Jack Fanning know Madeline Hennessey’s whereabouts in the wee hours unless—?

“How fares Theodosia?”

“Well enough. She will be cosseted past all bearing, until she recovers in defense of her wits. I didn’t realize Higgans participated in these
gatherings.”

The good doctor was at the bar next to Vicar Weekes, engaged in deep discussion.

“Everybody will stop by at some point this evening,” Axel said. “Because you’re here, they’re more likely to behave
themselves for the duration of the tournament. After that, Tavis is on his own.”

“When can you take a puppy?”

The course of true love must be running quite amok. “Fanning, I despair of your conversation.”

“The beasts are in my stable, consuming several times more than grown men in good health. You promised, Belmont.”

Axel had promised he’d discuss with his wife the prospect of adding a dog to the Candlewick household, among other items.

“I can take the dog tomorrow, assuming your head isn’t too sore. Bring a puppy by, and Madeline as well. I miss her.”

Fanning left off glowering at the physician and the vicar. “
You
miss her?”

“Terribly. The secret to Cook’s delicious scones was that Madeline beat the batter just so. The footmen were cheerful because Madeline scolded
them and flirted with them in equal measure. Mrs. Turnbull has accused the maids of being forgetful, when in fact, my housekeeper is the one who can no
longer recall which task she gave to whom because Madeline managed the assignments. Even my stable master misses the only person who could suggest to him
how the saddle room should be organized. My wife, alas, is concerned with a newborn, and thus—in defense of my entire demesne,
I miss Madeline terribly
, as does the rest of my household.”

Fanning’s expression traveled an interesting spectrum, from thunderous, to curious, to commiserating.

“Too bad, old man. You can’t have her back. Madeline is threatening to move in with Theodosia when my mother returns to London.”

Hence the scowls, frowns, and threats of arrest.

“That won’t do, Fanning. The senior Hennessey women are a problem, and woe to the man who oversteps when he tries to effect a solution. Having
Madeline give up a salaried position to feed chickens with Theo won’t solve a thing.”

“Of course it won’t.”

“So what will you do?”
Propose, you damn fool. Get down on your handsome knees and ask the woman for her hand in marriage.

“For starters, I shall sell the rest of those puppies, cash in advance.”

“You should give Miss DeWitt a puppy,” Jack said.

Jeremy did not consider himself a gifted intellect, but neither was he daft. “
I
should give Miss DeWitt one of those mongrels impersonating
carnivorous elephants in your stable?”

“Of course,” Jack said, pacing around the estate office’s desk. Jack’s path was clockwise, relative to Jeremy’s seat at the
desk. “If I give the woman anything—a single blossom—Mama will get ideas. Miss DeWitt is a charming young lady, but Mama’s ideas
are not always well-thought-out.”

True enough. Mama had ideas enough to restart the Napoleonic Wars. Abetted by Mrs. Theodosia Hickman, all manner of plots were possible.

“A puppy is a rather personal gift,” Jeremy replied. “That is to say…” Puppies were adorable. All paws and ears, wiggling
tails, and bright, happy puppy-eyes. “I see your problem, Jack. The ladies do tend to read significance where there is none and take odd
notions.”

Jeremy was taking an odd notion, a not-very-brotherly notion.

“You have the knack of being friendly without creating expectations,” Jack said, pausing to wind the clock on the mantel. “I’m sure
when you accost Miss DeWitt beneath the mistletoe, she regards it as a charming gesture. While I…”

Jack compared the clock with his pocket watch, and moved the larger hand forward a quarter hour.

Jeremy had not dared accost the lady beneath the mistletoe. She was an enthusiastic student of the kiss, and Jeremy an all-too-enthusiastic instructor.
Thanks be to the Almighty, the mistletoe would soon be taken down.

“I am charming,” Jeremy said. “While you are…?”

“While I am not the friendly sort, and poor Miss DeWitt attempts to include me in all manner of social nonsense out of sheer pity.”

Sheer duty, more like, which hardly seemed like the optimal motivation for marriage in these enlightened times.

“Have you considered being friendly despite your shortcomings? The ladies are charitable with us, when they know we’re trying.”

How odd, to be giving Sir Jack, the hero of Parrakan, advice. Clergy expected to hand out advice, but not to dashing older brothers.

Jack took the chair across from the desk, looking all too handsome and eligible in his riding attire.

“May I be honest?” Jack opened a small carved box on the desk and held it up to his nose. The soothing scent of jasmine wafted across the
office.

My brother sniffs boxes.
Poor Lucy Anne. “Of course you may be honest, and you may trust my discretion as well.”

Jack’s smile was fleeting and devilish. “Because you’re ordained? I’m not confessing a sin, Jere.”

Jere
. Nobody else used that nickname, and to hear it was inordinately pleasing, despite the guilt it heaped on a younger brother’s heart.

“You may trust my discretion because I’m your dear baby brother, and your confidences mean a lot to me.” Jeremy did respect and love
Jack. Always had.

“I would make Miss DeWitt miserable,” Jack said. “I’ve been on my own for too long, and she’s… she’s innocent,
charming, and so young. On the one hand, I’m not the man for her, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. On the other hand, if I am not
receptive to Miss DeWitt’s overtures, Mama will plague the poor lady relentlessly, chide her, and plant untoward ideas in her head.” 
   

“You have a point. Mama is ever so fond of untoward ideas, and considers herself something of a matchmaker.” Jeremy considered Mama something
of a plague, albeit dear in her own way.

Jack took another whiff of jasmine. “Mama a matchmaker? I had no idea. Poor Miss DeWitt has been put in an awful position. I think the least we can
do is give the lady a puppy to keep her spirits up. I’m sure Theodosia would sell us one.”

Jeremy mentally set aside his clerical collar for just a moment—the blasted thing could make being a brother far too complicated.

“What about Miss Hennessey, Jack?”

“I don’t think she’d like a puppy. She spends all day looking after Mama, the household, her aunts… She’s still more or less
in service, and that makes a puppy difficult.”

No wonder Lucy Anne was at her wits’ end with Sir Hero. “I meant, what about your feelings for Miss Hennessey? Your gallantry regarding her
aunt was very commendable, but mightn’t Miss Hennessey develop feelings for such a considerate, generous fellow?”

Jeremy hoped this was the case, for the sake of his overtaxed conscience.

“Miss Hennessey isn’t interested in marriage, to me or to anybody. She has a dim view of the male of the species, for reasons which, as
gentlemen, we need not belabor.”

In for a penny, or a puppy, as it were… “Jack, you carried her in from the sleigh when you came back from Theodosia’s cottage yesterday
afternoon. I saw you from the window of the family parlor, and I saw you pause outside the back door and kiss the lady—without benefit of
mistletoe.”

The great hero looked… wistful, and a bit sheepish. “Have you never longed to kiss a sleeping princess awake?”

Just as a confession might have tumbled forth, inspiration struck. “I have wanted to kiss a princess, once or twice.” Or for endless moments.
“One should be forgiven the occasional princely impulse, provided the lady is willing. Miss Hennessey apparently woke in a state of
willingness.”