Jaded Moon (Ransomed Jewels Book 2) (14 page)

“Have you given it a name?” a deep voice asked from behind her.

Josie jerked up and turned. The Marquess of Rainforth was standing at her side. He wasn’t watching the caterpillar, but the two little girls. He smiled a breathtaking smile, and when he transferred that smile to her, Josie felt a jolt that made her cheeks flush hot.

“You can’t name a caterpillar,” Amanda said, looking first at the marquess, then Josie. “Can you?”

“Everything’s got a name, ’manda,” Cissy said, her deep blue eyes wide as she tilted her head back to look at the giant of a man standing in front of her.

“Can we name it, Miss Josie?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Then I think we should call it Henry,” Amanda said, sucking thoughtfully on her lower lip.

Cissy looked down at the insect. “But Henry was our dog’s name. And he’s dead.”

Amanda was silent for a moment, then her eyes filled with big, wet tears. Josie dropped down so she was eye level with the little girl. “I think Henry’s a wonderful name for your caterpillar. Henry would be proud that you named something after him.”

“I miss him.”

“I know you do.”

Amanda pointed to the caterpillar. “He’s brown like Henry was.”

Josie watched the caterpillar turn around and crawl back down Cissy’s arm. “Yes, he is. The very same color as Henry.”

“Can I take Henry back with me, Miss Josie? I’ll keep him in my room and won’t let him out?”

“No, Amanda. This Henry lives near the tree where you found him. He needs to be outside.”

Amanda transferred the caterpillar from Cissy’s hand back to her own. “Robbie wanted to step on him. He said Henry was just a bug.”

Josie lifted her gaze and met Rainforth’s smiling gray eyes. She could tell he was having as hard a time as she keeping a straight face.

“But Charlie wouldn’t let him.”

The mention of Charlie’s name was like an explosion rending the silence. The humor went out of his eyes. Even his face seemed a shade paler than before.

Josie stood and turned Amanda back toward the tree where they’d found the caterpillar. “Take Henry back now, Amanda. The other caterpillars he lives with probably miss him.”

The two little girls ran off and the marquess’ gaze followed them, searching the spot close to the stream where seven or eight little boys played tag.

“Is he down there?”

“Yes. Do you want me to—”

He shook his head and took a step. Then another. He didn’t walk fast, but neither did he walk slow. Just steadily down the small dip in the meadow to where Charlie played.

Josie went with him, not because she thought he might need her help to recognize his son. She knew the minute he looked into Charlie’s deep-gray eyes it would be like looking into a mirror. And if the eyes weren’t enough of a confirmation, or the shape of Charlie’s jaw, or the tilt of his nose, the dark mahogany hair that curled slightly at the ends was certain to give him away. And the dimples on either side of his mouth that were identical to the creases that deepened each time the marquess smiled.

The group of boys ran toward the stream, all of them chasing after Eddie Clower who must be the one they had to tag, and after squeals of excitement, they all stopped and formed a circle around something they’d found lying on the ground.

“Miss Josie! Come look!”

One of the little boys broke away from the circle and ran toward them. Before she had time to prepare Rainforth, Charlie was in front of them.

She knew the second the marquess recognized him. Knew what a jolt it was to come face to face with a child you didn’t know you had. He took several quick breaths as if he couldn’t find enough air to breathe, then stood still as a statue with his gaze fixed on Charlie as the little boy skidded to a halt in front of them.

“Miss Josie! Wait ’til you see what we found.”

“What did you find, Charlie?”

“A turtle. The biggest turtle you ever seen. You gotta look at it.”

Charlie reached out his hand and grabbed hers, pulling her along behind him. He was so excited she knew he hadn’t even notice the Marquess of Rainforth walking beside her. But the marquess had noticed Charlie. The air sparked with anticipation.

“I think he came from the stream.”

Josie stepped through the opening the little boys made for her and looked down to the ground. The turtle on the bank was huge by any four- or five-year-old’s standards, but not nearly so gigantic to an adult. Josie, however, made all the appreciative sighs to show she was as impressed with their find as they were. It wasn’t until the novelty of watching something that resembled a rock and moved at the same speed wore off that they noticed she wasn’t alone. Their gazes all lifted to Lord Rainforth at the same time. Richie was the first to recognize him.

“I remember you. You came while Miss Josie was reading to us that other time.”

“That’s right,” Jeremy piped up. “We had to tell you our names and you shook our hands and everything.”

“You didn’t shake mine,” Robbie chimed in, “’cause I wasn’t there. Miss Josie sent Charlie and me to the orchard with Jenny. But we heard about you. Didn’t we Charlie?”

Charlie nodded in agreement, then lifted his pewter-gray eyes upward. He looked into his father’s eyes. And a father saw his son for the very first time.

Josie heard the rush of air come from the Marquess of Rainforth, saw his massive chest expand and hold, as if his body was locked in place and could not move. A look of pain and joy and wonder and amazement was written on his face. For a long time he simply stared at Charlie without speaking. And Charlie stared back.

Josie waited, but the marquess didn’t break the silence. She stepped closer to him and placed her hand on his arm. His muscles knotted beneath her fingers and a hand squeezed around her heart.

She’d imagined every reaction she thought the marquess might have at finally seeing the child who’d been foisted off onto him by his mistress’s untimely death. From curiosity to dislike to the cold insignificance she remembered from the one and only time her father had briefly glanced at her. But none of those expressions were on the Marquess of Rainforth’s face as he looked down on little Charlie. Only open astonishment and something even more intense. Something similar to the look on a mother’s face after the birth of her child.

“Lord Rainforth, I don’t believe you’ve met Robbie and Charlie. Lord Rainforth, this is Robert Jenkins but he likes to be called Robbie.”

Rainforth gave a quick nod, then turned to Robbie and extended his hand. “How do you do, Robbie? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

After hearing all the glowing accounts of what had been expected of the children when they met the marquess, Robbie followed suit and held out his hand as if he’d been looking forward to the grown-up gesture.”

“A thank-you would be in order, Robbie.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you, my lord.”

“And this, Lord Rainforth, is Charles Gardner.”

The Marquess of Rainforth held his son’s gaze for several long, silent moments. Josie waited for him to move. Waited for him to show some reaction to his son, but the two only looked at each other as if quietly studying the other.

There was nothing obvious in the meeting that indicated how earth-shattering these minutes were, but Josie knew. She saw the wide grin of wonder as Charlie stared at the impressive man in front of him. She sensed rather than felt the turmoil churning inside Rainforth. How often was a man forced to come face to face with a part of him that was nothing short of a miracle?

“Lord Rainforth?”

Josie stepped forward to break the spell. She placed her arm around Charlie’s shoulder and beckoned the marquess from where he’d been. He blinked once, then held out a trembling hand.

“How do you do, Charlie? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you, Lord Rainforth,” Charlie said, holding out his small hand.

The Marquess of Rainforth took his son’s hand as he had taken all the other children’s hands. But he didn’t release it. He stood with his fingers clasping the child’s as if the blending of their flesh were a lifeline that connected them.

“I’m glad you called me Charlie. Everybody does except Miss Josie when I forget to wash my hands. Then she calls me Charles.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Not as often as she calls Robbie ‘Robert’.”

All the boys laughed, then with Charlie’s little hand nestled in his, the marquess knelt in front of the boy so they were eye to eye. “How old are you, Charlie?”

“I’m four. I had my birthday the other day. Cook baked me a cake with lots of frosting just like my mama used to make and I didn’t have to do any chores all day. Nobody does on their birthday. Miss Josie says so. And I got to pick the story I wanted her to read.”

“And which story did you choose?”

“Jack and the Beanstalk.”

Lord Rainforth smiled and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much of that story.”

“If you ask Miss Josie, I bet she’ll read it to you. It’s real good and there’s a beautiful lady in it that plays a harp. She’s got golden hair just like my mama had.”

“I’ll have to ask her to read it to me, then.”

”Did you know my mama died?”

Josie saw the Marquess of Rainforth swallow hard.

“Yes, I’d heard that.”

“She went to live in heaven. Miss Josie said she’s happy there, but I wish she’d come back and live with me.”

“I’m sure you do,” the marquess said, rising to his feet. “Perhaps some time you can tell me all about her.”

Charlie smiled his answer.

Josie tried not to let the tortured look in Rainforth’s eyes affect her, but the mention of the boy’s mother put the reason Charlie was here into perspective. She fought to keep the tears from building in her eyes and knew any attempt would be impossible if she gave in to the raw emotion Charlie had laid bare. She knew she had to change the subject.

“Are you boys getting hungry?” She stepped up to Charlie and put her arm around his shoulder. There was a chorus of ayes she answered with a smile she didn’t feel, then gathered the children around her.

“Charlie, why don’t you and the other boys help Mrs. Lambert set out the food. I think she brought blankets for us to sit on. But don’t put them under the trees. We want to sit in the sunshine.”

“Did Vicar Chadwick remember our gumdrops?” Robbie asked over his shoulder.

Josie held up a little bag filled with the treats the vicar had given her earlier.

“Can I have a red one? They’re my favorite.”

“I want an orange one,” Charlie echoed. And one by one each child put in his order for their special color.

Josie watched them scamper away until they were nearly out of sight.

She was alone now with the Marquess of Rainforth. She didn’t turn to face him, but even without looking in his direction, she could feel his hurt and pain. She could feel his loneliness and loss. She could feel his heart breaking because he had a son he couldn’t take in his arms and hold.

Then, she lifted her eyes and it was nearly her undoing. He stood with his back to her and one outstretched arm braced against the trunk of a thick oak tree. His head hung in defeat and his broad shoulders rose and fell as he took in one heart-wrenching gasp after another.

This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. She hadn’t thought to see such pain; such loss. She hadn’t expected him to care one way or the other when the boy had celebrated his birthday, or which story was his favorite. And she certainly had not expected to see such regret in his eyes. Regret and pain that made her want to take the grown man in her arms and comfort him like she had his son.

And she knew herself for the biggest kind of fool in the world. A fool no different than her mother had been.

It was Sunday.

Josie paced from one side of the drawing room to the other. It wouldn’t be long and he would be here. She stopped before the wide, multi-paned window that looked out onto the garden and concentrated on nothing in particular. She was ready for him. Ready for any tricks he might try.

If only yesterday hadn’t happened.

She allowed herself a moment of self-reservation then tried to erase the heart-wrenching emotion she’d seen on the Marquess of Rainforth’s face when he’d seen his son for the first time.

She had to remind herself that the scene from yesterday had nothing to do with today. The man who would be here shortly wasn’t the man who’d watched his son walk away from him with tears in his eyes. He wasn’t the man who hadn’t been able to hide the hurt when his son called him ‘my lord’ because he didn’t know he was his father.

The man coming today was the real Marquess of Rainforth. A man whose reputation as a wastrel and a scoundrel was so widely known no one in their right mind would place an innocent child into his care and keeping. A man who’d tossed aside his mistress the second he’d found out she was carrying his child. A man who hadn’t cared enough for the child he’d created to come to see him once in the four years since he’d been born. Yet that was exactly what everyone was proposing she do. Place the wellbeing of not one child, but every child at Sacred Heart into his hands.

From the moment he’d introduced his cattle venture, everything had been a game to him. Convincing everyone to go along with his plan had been his first victory. Finding his son when she’d vowed to keep him hidden had been his second. Agreeing with Lady Clythebrook’s preposterous scheme to prepare her to go to London had been his crowning achievement because he was guaranteed the prize no matter the outcome. But so was she if she survived the next thirty days. Which meant the children would be winners too.

Thirty days would buy her one last shipment of supplies and a year to find another way to support the orphanage. Surely she could tolerate being with a man who caused her heart to race every time he came in sight for a few weeks. By then maybe he would have tired of life here in the country and have gone back to London. And she would be alone with the children. And her memories.

Josie steadied her resolve and spun around when she heard voices in the hallway. He was here and she was ready for him. She’d be damned if she’d let him win without a fight. The stakes were too high in this game. Not just the children were in jeopardy. She was in danger too—at least her heart was.

“The Marquess of Rainforth, miss.”

“Show him in, Banks,” she said. “And please bring tea.”

“Yes, miss.”

Josie thought she was prepared to see him, but what a fool she’d been. Her breath caught the second he stepped through the doorway. As if that wasn’t bad enough, a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the heat from the fire in the grate. This heat started in the very center of her and burned with an intensity he had the power to fuel.

Oh, she didn’t want him to affect her like he did; as if he alone controlled the air she needed to survive.

He was in black and gray today, colors that made his eyes seem even more vibrant and dangerous. His cravat was tied perfectly and the cut of his clothes emphasized his broad shoulders and muscled thighs. She knew before he spoke his first word that she had much of which to be wary.

“Miss Foley,” he said, crossing the room. He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, then stepped back with an admiring look on his face. “How lovely you look. Absolutely stunning in that particular shade of green.”

Josie smiled. “This happens to be the same gown I was wearing the first time we met, Lord Rainforth. You didn’t remark upon my stunning appearance then—”

“An oversight, I’m sure. I had other pressing matters that occupied my mind, if you recall.”

“…and I don’t expect you to notice now. Complimenting a dress that is nearly seven years old is ludicrous.”

“Rule number one. When you get to London, I can promise that what you wear will be noticed and complimented by every male you meet. Men enjoy giving compliments and women enjoy receiving them.”

Josie arched her eyebrows. “It doesn’t please me when I know the man is offering a compliment he doesn’t really mean.”

“Then may I suggest you hide the fact that you suspect an admirer of being insincere and graciously accept their well-wishes. London is a far different place than Clythebrook Estate. It is much easier to offend a stranger’s sensibilities and much harder to repair the damage done by a careless word.”

Any rebuttal she intended to make was cut short by Banks’s arrival with the tea tray. Josie had purposely placed two chairs opposite each other with a small table between them. Banks placed the tray on the table and left the room.

“Lord Rainforth,” she said after she’d poured the tea and given him a cup. “I think we should settle something between us right now.”

“Where is Lady Clythebrook?” he interrupted.

“She was afraid she was coming down with a cold and stayed in her rooms.”

“Rule number two. A single woman of gentle breeding
never
entertains a male visitor alone without a chaperone present, preferably another lady of unquestionable character.”

“I am hardly a young schoolgirl. My character has never been in question. Now, to get back to my previous point—”

“Your character has never been in question because Lady Clythebrook has always been here to protect it. You are, however, single, and London Society plays by a different set of rules than those adhered to in the country.”

Josie set her cup down with a clink. “So what, pray tell, should I have done when you arrived.”

“Refused to see me, of course.”

“And have it be said that I had broken the terms of our agreement with Lady Clythebrook? I think not!”

“Then you should have insisted that one of the servants remain in the room.”

“They have more important things to do than sit in a corner and listen to us argue.”

The Marquess of Rainforth sat back in his chair and smiled. “Is that what you think we’re doing?”

“What would you call it?”

“I’d say we are having a lively discussion. I am instructing you on the difference between what is acceptable here in the country and why that same action will expose you to scandal in London. Society loves nothing better than to sink their teeth into someone’s character. And entertaining single men in private without a proper chaperone is guaranteed to set tongues wagging.”

“Spoken by a man who is an expert at creating scandals.”

“Touché, Miss Foley. Why else would Lady Clythebrook consider me the ideal candidate to teach you the traps to avoid when you reach London?”

Josie rose to her feet and walked away from him. “Regardless of what Lady Clythebrook has led you to believe, I have no intention of going to London. And if I do go, it won’t be to parade around the theaters and attend a number of fashionable balls. Nor will my intent be to attract a husband, but only to accompany Lady Clythebrook. I am tolerating your company for the next thirty days because Lady Clythebrook has left me no choice. If I do not, she will allow you to begin bringing in cattle immediately.”

“And you think thirty days will make a difference?”

“I think thirty days will be more than enough time for you to tire of country life and yearn to go back to the City, leaving us with a gaggle of cattle about which we know nothing.”

“It’s a herd.”

“What?”

“A herd, not a gaggle. But never mind. What if I told you there was no chance of my leaving?”

She studied him, her gaze taking in the serious expression on his face. “I wouldn’t believe you,” she said, but there was something in the way his silver eyes turned a darker gray that told her she shouldn’t dismiss his comment so easily. “Why are you so insistent upon bringing cattle here?”

His brows arched. “Don’t you think St. Stephen’s could use the added income?”

“If half the rumors concerning your wealth are true, the money from the sale of a few hundred head of cattle won’t be of any great significance. You could dip into the Rainforth coffers and take any amount that’s needed and the money would never be missed.”

He slowly set his cup and saucer back on the table, then stood to face her. “I only have St. Stephen’s to support me. My cousin has control of everything else, not me.”

“You gave away the income from your estates?”

“I gave away what I didn’t want. Which leaves me with St. Stephen’s.”

Josie stared at him in disbelief. What could have possessed him to turn over such a substantial income?

“Why did you keep St. Stephen’s?”

“Because I like it here.”

“So did your mother. It was hers, wasn’t it?”

“It had been in her family for generations. She and I used to come here when I was a child.”

“Did your father come with you?”

The corners of his mouth tipped upward. “No. He hated it here. St. Stephen’s was much too provincial for his taste.”

So St. Stephen’s would have been the only place his father had not left his mark.

Could she have been so wrong about him? Could she have been so convinced all the rumors about him were true that she hadn’t looked for any good? If that were true, she was in greater danger than she’d even imagined before.

“I would like that walk you promised me,” he said, as if he could read her thoughts and wished to escape them. “The flowers may not be in bloom, but the garden beyond the window is well tended. Is that your doing?”

“Banks and mine. We both enjoy digging around in the dirt.”

“Then I will imagine what it will look like in a month’s time. And we will leave the door open and make sure we stay within view of the windows.”

“But there’s no one here to watch us.”

“But in London there will be.”

“Another rule?”

“Yes. That should be number three. Not bad for half an hour’s work.”

He held out his arm and she placed her hand on it. The flesh beneath her fingers was hard and she remembered how it had looked and felt without the barrier of clothes when she tended his wounds. Her cheeks warmed and she lowered her head before he noticed.

“Do you feel the need for a shawl?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t want you to risk getting a chill.”

She wanted to laugh. She was more likely to suffer blisters from the heat that warmed her face. “I’m perfectly fine. You were the one who was injured. Are you certain you’re up to a walk?”

“Yes. I’d like to ask you some questions about the boy.”

“Charlie?”

They’d crossed the patio and were at the three narrow steps that led out into the garden. He stopped before they went down the first step and turned to face her. “Do you doubt Charlie is my son?”

She shook her head. “Some people guessed he was yours when Mrs. Gardner moved into the dower house and Charlie was born not five months after. Now, you only have to look at him to know you are his father.”

“There’s a picture that looks exactly like him hanging at Rainforth Park. It’s a picture of me when I was about his age.”

“Why did you never come to see him?”

“I’d like to think I would have, if I’d have known he existed.”

She stopped in the middle of the path and darted him a look filled with shock and surprise.

“But, perhaps I wouldn’t have,” he continued before she had a chance to say anything. He looked down on her and smiled his most seductive smile. “It’s hard to say what a rake such as myself would ever do.”

Her heart beat faster in her chest. “You didn’t know you had a son?”

“Her condition was one detail Carrie failed to mention when she asked me to provide her with a home in the country where she could start again. I didn’t even know about her death until a few weeks ago. That was when I came to the orphanage in search of the child.”

“But how could you not know? The dower house isn’t that far away from the manor house.”

“That was part of the bargain Carrie and I struck when she left. She wanted to put her past behind her and start a different life from the one she’d been living in London. At the time, I thought there was little possibility I’d ever return to St. Stephen’s so I gifted her the dower house. She asked that I never make any effort to see her again and I saw no reason not to agree to her request. I assumed if she ever needed me, she knew where to find me.”

“Did you love her?”

“No. I didn’t love her. Nor did she love me. A wise woman never falls in love with a scoundrel. And Carrie was very, very wise.”

Josie felt the weight press heavier against her chest. He was right. That was the mistake her mother had made.

They walked further and he stopped when they reached a small fountain with benches facing it where they could sit. “Would you mind if we rested here a while?”

She sat down on one end of the bench and he sat on the other. They weren’t so close they were touching, yet close enough that his nearness caused her body to warm by several degrees.