The Earl's Secret (13 page)

As soon as they were seated in the dining room, Mrs. Clark brought in the soup—a rich brown broth full of sweet onions and finely shredded vegetables. Jennifer took two mouthfuls before Christopher looked expectantly across the table at her. His eyes twinkled with curiosity.

“So what is this fabulous news of yours?”

She had relished this moment all the way home to Donan on the train. “It's about Lisa.”

He frowned and put down his spoon. “I thought you went shopping. You saw Lisa?”

“No.” Jennifer leaned over the table, not wanting to miss his expression when she told him the news. “I went to visit Sandra. I know you said it wouldn't be a good idea, and at first it seemed as if I wasn't going to be able to put even a foot in the door. But I made it clear I wouldn't leave until she heard me out…then Sir Isaac showed up and—”

“What!” The roar from across the table shocked her into silence. “What the bloody hell have you done, woman?”

“I…I just wanted to reason with the woman,” she stammered. Perhaps she'd tackled this conversation from the wrong direction, considering Christopher's temper and lack of patience with involved explanations. “I
knew
that there must be a reason why—”

Christopher stood up so abruptly his chair fell over with a clatter. He glared at her.

“You had no right to meddle in my affairs. I told you not to try to see Sandra.” He threw his linen napkin down on the table. “Now you've made it all worse.”

“But I
haven't!
” she objected, tears of frustration pooling in her eyes. “Listen to me, Christopher. It's going to be all right now. Sir Isaac said that—”

“Good Lord, you've dragged that poor man into this, too! Are you mad?”

Something snapped inside of her.
It wasn't fair!

After all she had given up to be with Christopher. After all she had done to bring him and his daughter
together. And he wouldn't even listen to her. Once again, he had drawn the uncrossable line between family and her. Lisa was his daughter. He loved her, and he had no difficulty saying so. But never in the wild heat of their passion or quiet shared moments of the day had he said those precious words to Jennifer.

Christopher raged at her, but the words no longer penetrated her disappointment. Jennifer gazed numbly across the table at him, hot tears of despair blurring her vision. She could have forced him to listen to her, but her pride simply wouldn't allow it.

“Get out,” he growled at her.

She stood shakily at the table. “I couldn't eat now anyway,” she whispered.

“I'm not talking about leaving the dining room. I want you out of my house. You've betrayed me.”

“I didn't!” she shouted. “How can you be so bull-headed.”

“Go!” he commanded coldly.

No matter how much she loved him, she couldn't allow any man to treat her so callously.

“If you don't trust me with this, we never had a chance together,” she murmured dully. “You don't have to tell me to leave. I wouldn't stay now under any condition.”

She faced him, her chin high, her eyes snapping with defiance and the traces of dignity she'd managed to hold on to.

“I'll leave early in the morning. One of the stable boys will take me to the station. You needn't bother showing up for a polite send-off.”

“A
t least you did what you could for the man,” Evelyn said after Jennifer had blurted out an abbreviated explanation of their breakup. One look at Jennifer's face as she'd walked into Murphy's Worldwide Escapes and Evelyn hadn't even asked for an explanation. She'd just crossed the office, enveloped her daughter in her arms and wept with her. “Someday he will realize what you've given him. And what he's lost by letting you go. Love is like that sometimes. You can give all that you have, but if it isn't returned…you just have to go on.”

“The jerk,” Jennifer sputtered.

Her mother moved her away just enough to smile at her. “That's better. A few hearty cuss words might be in order, too.”

But swearing or name calling wouldn't help, Jennifer knew. Neither would tears. She drew a finger
beneath each eye, wiping away the tears and promising herself a whole heart again, someday.

“What do you suppose your arrogant earl will do when he learns the result of your mission?” Evelyn asked.

“If you're thinking he'll rush across the Atlantic to come for me, forget it. All Christopher ever really wanted was his daughter,” Jennifer said sadly.

Her mother raised a questioning brow.

“Don't get me wrong, I'm not jealous of Lisa. She's a sweet little girl. The two of them will get along famously. Lisa worships him; anyone can see that.” Jennifer shrugged. “I think I was a temporary distraction, something to keep his mind off his problems. Now that he has what he's been searching for, I won't be needed.”

“You really believe that?”

“With all my soul,” Jennifer whispered.

The backs of her eyelids tickled, but she refused to let fresh tears fall. Enough was enough. Her mother was right, it was time to move on.

“Now,” she said, looking around the little office, “it looks as if we could use a few new posters on these walls. Something tropical and sunny—Jamaica, Bermuda, Cancún!”

“Jennifer,” her mother said with concern.

She produced a nearly convincing smile and squeezed Evelyn's outstretched hand. “I'll be fine. Really. Just give me a little time.”

 

The days following Jennifer's sudden departure from Castle Donan and Scotland were among the bleakest in the life of the earl of Winchester. Women had drifted into and out of his life over the years.
Occasionally there had been a twinge of regret for the loss of a pleasant companion. But it had never been like this.

Christopher found himself riding for aimless hours. Jamie took to having Prince's Pride saddled and ready at first light.

Christopher could no longer sleep in his own bed because
she
had shared it with him. Jennifer's scent lingered in the linens even after they had been laundered. When exhaustion overtook him, he napped thinly in a leather armchair in his library as the fire burned low in the hearth. He avoided eating in the dining room because her empty chair haunted him. Quick, informal meals in the kitchen with Mrs. Clark and her husband, who also worked for him, became his habit, when he ate at all.

Work on the garden wall stopped. He put off hiring someone to pick up where Jennifer had left off on the upper-floor restorations. For days he didn't open his mail, and the telephone messages, neatly annotated in the book beside the hall phone, weren't answered because he never bothered to read them.

At last Mrs. Clark took him aside. “If you'll pardon me for interferin', sir, someone ought to respond to the post and the calls comin' in daily. There might be somethin' of importance.”

Whatever had been important in his life was gone. His sweet daughter. The love of an American woman with a laugh that brought joy to his heart. They were beyond his reach, now and forever. Why should he care about mundane matters like electric bills, invitations to fox hunts or furniture orders?

“Sir?” Mrs. Clark tapped her foot impatiently.

“Take care of them for me, will you?”

“No, sir, I won't!” she retorted sharply.

His head snapped up at her unexpected reaction. He'd known her since childhood, and she'd never spent a cross word on him. “What?”

“I can't be doin' all that,
and
keep up with the work around this house, too! Lord Smythe, you are old enough to run your own life.”

He couldn't help grinning at that. She sounded like the cook of his youth, gently chiding him for snitching a sweet before meal.

Then he thought,
Old enough, yes. But wise enough?
It seemed he was not.

“I apologize for expecting too much of you,” he said, patting her arm. “Of course I'll handle the mail…and the calls. Just tell me, if you can, what seems the most crucial to respond to first. Any emergencies?”

“I can't say about emergencies, but your brother in America called two days ago, and Sir Isaac has sent you a letter.”

“Bloody hell,” he mumbled.

It was a rare thing to hear from Matthew, but he always enjoyed news of his latest escapades. The middle brother of the family had built for himself a successful import business in the United States. Although they saw each other only once or twice a year, they spoke on the phone every month or so. He hated to have missed Matt's call, especially at a time like this when he needed cheering up. Perhaps he would call him back later.

As to Sir Isaac, he dreaded the obligatory conversation following Jennifer's invasion of the man's house. Apologies would have to be made, offended sensibilities mended.

Christopher scooped up the mail and telephone log from the hall table and took them along with him into his library. From his desk he punched in the international code for the U.S. then Matt's number…and waited while the phone rang. The answering machine picked up. Christopher left a brief message.

He must now read what Sir Isaac had to say, regardless of how humiliating and painful the words. He could only hope Ellington hadn't completely retracted his open-door policy to his seeing Lisa.

Christopher sliced open the pearl-gray envelope with the silver opener Lisa had given him for Christmas the year before. He read the letter all the way through once, then a second time before its meaning became clear to him.

A lump of emotion closed off his throat, and he felt as if he was choking. Choking over the impossible joy bubbling up through him as the significance of Sir Isaac's words finally sank in.

Lisa was his!

They were going to meet, the four of them—the Ellingtons, Lisa and himself. His daughter would be told the truth, and know that he was her father. Arrangements would be made for Lisa to live with him for generous portions of each year. It was all there in the letter—all he had ever prayed for and more.

Just as quickly as happiness had engulfed him, it was tainted by shame. This, he now realized, had been Jennifer's parting gift to him. She had given him his daughter, probably knowing that she was risking losing him by going to Sandra against his wishes. He had rejected the woman who had sacrificed her happiness for his.

How had he not seen what she was doing? If only he hadn't been so quick to condemn.

Christopher dropped his head into his hands, consumed by his loss. “Jenny,” he murmured. “Oh, Jenny, I'm so sorry…”

 

It was a few days after that when an unexpected visitor arrived at Donan. Christopher had just come back from one of his fierce gallops across the moor and saw the sleek black sedan parked in the drive. He left his horse to Jamie and strode quickly around the house to find his other and older brother, Thomas, observing the half-completed garden wall.

“It's coming along, isn't it?” Thomas Smythe commented matter-of-factly. Their conversations always started this way, as if continuing a discussion started only minutes earlier—even though it was often many months between their visits.

“It was,” Christopher said, letting his eyes touch the rocks he had lifted into place as Jennifer stood by his side, directing the process. Her rosebushes were nearby, but he couldn't bear to look at them. He felt his brother's eyes on him and wondered how Thomas knew something was wrong. Thomas always knew, somehow. Maybe it was his training. A king's bodyguard had to see trouble before it happened. But all the way from Elbia?

“I've been in London for a week, vacationing with Diane,” Thomas said.

“How is your new bride?” Christopher asked, turning with curiosity to watch the former confirmed bachelor's expression.

“Diane couldn't be better. Nor could I,” he said softly and with obvious joy. He was a very big man,
and it seemed nothing short of a miracle that a single mother with three kids had gentled him so thoroughly. Marriage, Christopher could see, had done the man a great deal of good.

“So, how is London?” Christopher asked.

“Abuzz with scandalous rumors,” Thomas whispered melodramatically. He lifted a thick, black brow, inviting another question.

“Rumors involving whom?”

“You, dear brother. You.”

“Oh.” So word was out. It hadn't taken long for society to latch on to the news of his paternity. But he had been more or less prepared. And, in the larger scheme of life, it wouldn't matter. The important thing was that he and Lisa could be father and daughter. There would be no more pretending.

“It's not something I'm proud of, Thomas, having a child out of wedlock. But it's best out in the open. Lisa is perfect. I adore her and can't wait for you to meet her.”

Thomas studied his expression for a moment longer. “You seem happy enough with the situation. So why do you look as if you've been trampled by a herd of rogue elephants?”

Christopher shrugged. At any other time in his life he would have kept his grief to himself. But this was somehow different. The loss felt too immense for him to carry alone any longer.

“I was seeing a woman…a very special woman.” He impatiently blinked away unwanted moisture from his eyes. “Working things out between me and Lisa and Lisa's mother…well, it all became rather intense, and Jennifer got tangled up in it. I treated her very badly. Accused her of—” Christopher swallowed, but
his throat still felt too constricted to force words through. He coughed into his hand and avoided his older brother's eyes. “Doesn't matter. The short of it is, I packed her off to America. She didn't deserve to be treated that way. She was the one who arranged for the Ellingtons to let me claim Lisa as my daughter.”

“I see,” Thomas said. “So on top of being in love with the lady, you owe her a vast personal debt.”

“I suppose—” Christopher stared at him. “Love her? Did you say I was in love with her?”

“It definitely sounds that way to me. I've never known you to feel remorse at the departure of any other female who has crossed your path.”

“But this was different.
She
was different. I don't think…that is to say, we were great together in a lot of ways, but
love
…I don't know.”

Christopher was more than puzzled. He hadn't put a name to his feelings until now, but the need to define them seemed suddenly urgent. He
loved
her? Was that true? He had felt deeply and passionately attached to Jennifer, but love?

However, when Thomas, the man who was newly and intimately acquainted to that mysterious phenomenon, said he'd been in love with Jennifer, he listened and thought very hard about those words.

He had never told her how he felt about her. What if it was true? He shook his head violently.

“Accurately labeling feelings is no longer relevant,” he muttered disconsolately. “She's gone. It's too late.” Christopher met his brother's eyes, willing him to understand what he himself could not. “She trusted her future to me. I betrayed that trust. Not the other way around, as I accused her.”

“You can still try,” Thomas said, laying a heavy, but strangely comforting, hand on his brother's shoulder. “You'll regret it if you don't. Believe me, I know. I've been there.”

“No,” Christopher whispered sadly. “She came back to me once before. This time I went too far. She'll never again believe me.”

 

Evelyn looked up from the university's course catalog she was perusing. “Darling, I love having you work with me. But I think it would be marvelous if you found something for yourself, something you really
love
doing, like restoring old buildings.”

Jennifer nodded, letting herself drift back to Castle Donan, Loch Kerr and the vast surrounding moors. “I'll never regret having gone with him, you know. I learned so much in the short time we had together. But as far as restoration is concerned I'll need some formal training to take my instincts beyond the hobby stage.”

“Then by all means…” Evelyn handed her daughter the catalog.

 

Another week passed, and another after that. Chill autumn winds off Chesapeake Bay made a stroll along the harbor less pleasant. Nevertheless, Jennifer continued to walk from her apartment to the travel agency, absorbing a little fresh air and sunshine before beginning her long workday.

During these walks, she remembered Castle Donan vividly. Never would she forget its breathtaking beauty, or the earl of Winchester. He had touched her heart, her body, her soul more intimately and knowingly than any other man ever had or ever could
again. Christopher had made her believe in him…in
them.
She wondered if those sorts of feelings came only once in a lifetime.

It was a Friday, and the winter holidays were approaching, so they would be busy. People tended to think more about vacations or finalizing business travel arrangements as the weekend neared. Jennifer let herself into the little shop, out of the cold wind and flipped over the Open sign, although it was still early. She made coffee, but before she could return to her desk, the bell over the door tinkled.