The Shocking Secret of a Guest at the Wedding (Millworth Manor) (21 page)

But why couldn’t
she
seduce him? She took another sip of her whisky. She certainly wouldn’t expect marriage if she seduced him. It was definitely something to consider although she’d never seduced a man before. Nor did she have a great deal of experience with seduction. Of course she had succumbed to Cyril’s seduction, not the wisest moment of her life. How hard would it be to turn the tables? To be the seducer instead of the seduced? Still, given Jack’s honorable nature, who knew what might happen then. Nonetheless, it was something to consider.

Voices echoed up from the front entry and a moment later determined steps sounded on the stairs. Obviously those of a woman. Teddy braced herself. She wasn’t at all sure she was up to talking to her mother this afternoon. Nor did she wish for her mother to find her with a glass of hard spirits in her hand. Besides, weren’t they supposed to attend a play together tonight? Why she was here now did not bode well. Her mother wasn’t—

Dee burst into the room. “What have you done?” she demanded waving a newspaper at Teddy. “And why wasn’t I the first to know?”

At very nearly the same time,
Channing House . . .

 

 

 

“Is something wrong?” Jack settled back on the leather sofa in the library and studied his father.

“I wouldn’t say wrong exactly.” The colonel swirled the whisky in his glass.

Jack and his father had taken to meeting in the library before dinner for a glass of whisky or brandy, depending on the day and their respective moods. Tonight it was good Scottish whisky. Since they had been spending more time apart, their time together had become more meaningful. Jack was completely at ease in his father’s company now and was fairly certain his father felt the same, especially as his overwhelming enthusiasm at having a son had mellowed. Jack wondered if the older man had at last realized his newfound son was not going to vanish into thin air.

It had turned into a pleasant ritual, this daily meeting of father and son. In the dim light cast by the low-burning gas lamps, surrounded by books and ancestral portraits, the spacious Channing House library was warm and intimate. Here it was easy to forget that the bonds between child and parent were still tenuous. That this tradition of sharing a drink in the evening was new and hadn’t grown between father and son through the years. There was something about the smell of ancient volumes and aged leather and freshly polished wood that had always soothed Jack’s soul and eased his spirit. Indeed the libraries of the London house and Millworth Manor were the places where Jack felt most at home, as though he truly belonged. In those rooms a man could embrace the past while still looking toward the future.

Theodosia would look right in this room, natural and at ease. He could almost see her here. Standing near the fireplace, with a glass of wine in her hand, the room lit with the glow of the fire, low and seductive, wearing little more than a wicked look in her eyes and a smile—

“However, there is a matter I do wish to discuss.” His father seated himself in one of the supple leather wing chairs that flanked the sofa.

Jack’s attention jerked back to his father. Where on earth had that vision of Theodosia come from? Not that it wasn’t an extremely interesting image . . . He cleared his throat. “I suspected as much.”

“Did you?” His father’s brow rose. “Have we grown to know each other that well already?”

“So it would appear.” Jack smiled. “And you have the definite look of a man who isn’t certain how to proceed with whatever it is he is determined to do.”

His father scoffed. “No I don’t.”

“Oh, but you do. Besides . . .” Jack nodded at his father’s hand. “You absently tap your finger against your glass or on a table or whatever is handy when you’re apprehensive.”

The colonel stared at his hand. “Bloody hell.” His gaze shifted to his son’s. “Remind me never to play cards with you. Again. Is that how you beat me the other night?”

“No, I was just better than you.” Jack grinned. “And oddly enough, you don’t do it when you play cards. Or chess.”

“Well, that’s something.” He took a deep swallow of his whisky. “You’re very perceptive.”

“I have to be.” Jack shrugged. “I’m a banker. I need to be every bit as attuned to a man’s character as I am to his accounts and balances and debts. I also have to be as alert to what he doesn’t say as what he does. If you can’t tell a genuine story from something completely fabricated then you will fail in the financial world. When it comes to both profits and, well, morality, for lack of a better term.”

“I didn’t realize morality was a requirement in banking,” his father said idly.

“We’re not all Ebenezer Scrooge, you know.” Jack chuckled. “Although admittedly it is hard to admire those in a profession where the assets of men fallen on hard times are routinely seized for back payments.” He shook his head. “It’s not an easy thing to do, putting the interests of an institution over those of an individual. At least it’s never been for me. However, I know any number of men in my profession who seem to have no difficulty with that aspect of it at all. It’s part of the responsibility of the position. You do what’s expected of you, even if it’s something you don’t particularly like. And you try to make it less painful for all concerned.” He paused. “I always thought it was in my blood, you know. It was what I was expected to do and I never really questioned it. Now, I wonder. My grandfather is president of the bank and my great-grandfather one of its founders. But at this point I’m no longer sure if it suits me at all.”

“Did you ever think of pursuing another profession?”

“When I was a boy, I wanted to be a pirate.” Jack grinned. “Or a treasure hunter.”

His father chuckled. “It’s something to consider, not being a pirate of course, but whether you wish to resume your position with the bank.”

“I do seem to have choices.” And hadn’t Theodosia said he could be or do anything he wanted?

“I’ve always thought of myself as being fairly good at taking the measure of a man.” A casual note sounded in his father’s voice. “I thought you and I were getting on well together.”

Jack frowned. “We are.”

“Good.” The older man got to his feet and crossed the room to refill his whisky, returning with the decanter to top off Jack’s glass. “Do you think it’s odd that a man in his fifty-fifth year would still live in his family’s house?”

“I think it’s odd that such a question would come to mind.”

“Its just something that has occurred to me of late.”

Jack sipped his drink. “It’s a very big house.”

The colonel smiled. “And that was a very diplomatic answer.” He set the decanter on the table by the arm of the chair, settled back into his seat, and glanced around the room, affection in his gaze and his words. “Between this house and the manor, I never saw a need for a separate dwelling. Through the years, I’ve never stayed in England for more than six months at a time I think. I’ve spent more of my life in other countries than I have here. There’s much to be said for returning to a place you’ve considered home for all of your life. I might have felt differently had I had a family of my own.”

“And a wife?”

“As it turned out that I had a legal wife all these years, another would have been awkward.” He paused. “Do you think your mother really would have had me arrested if I’d married again?”

“I’d like to say no but . . .” Jack shrugged. “If I’ve learned nothing else since meeting you, I have learned that I don’t really know my mother at all. So I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“You should write to her, you know.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

The colonel raised a skeptical brow. “Have you?”

“Not directly. Quite frankly, I don’t know what to say.”

“Are you still angry with her?”

“I’m not as furious as I was initially.” Jack thought for a moment. “In some ways I can almost understand why she didn’t tell me about you.” He glanced at his father. “I might well have tried to find you, you know.”

“Thank you, Jack.” His father smiled.

“And I can see why she wouldn’t have told you about me. That doesn’t excuse it, of course. I do think she was truly scared of losing her only child. But . . .” Jack shook his head. “I haven’t been a child for some time. I’m not sure I can ever forgive her for this.” He met his father’s gaze. “Can you?”

“I don’t know.” He thought for a moment. “I do know that I have many regrets when it comes to your mother.”

“That you married her or that you let her leave you?”

“Mostly the latter. I never would have let her leave if I had known about you.” Father raised his glass to his son, then took a sip of his drink. “Seeing her again, well, it makes one think.”

“Oh?”

“How different our lives might have been. Why I never found another woman I wished to marry, that kind of thing. Don’t misunderstand me,” he added firmly. “I have never believed in the concept of soul mates or one true love or any of that sort of balderdash. Or at least I didn’t.”

“And now?”

He considered the question. “Plato wrote that originally men and women were one creature but their strength threatened the gods. So Zeus split them in half and each half spends its life tying to find its mate. To become complete once again.” He shook his head. “Rubbish of course. Still, it is something to ponder.”

“Do you think Mother is your soul mate?”

“I just said the very idea is absurd.”

“But the thought has crossed your mind.”

“I suppose it has. Just one of many things that have filled my head recently. Another is your future, of course.” A deceptively casual note sounded in his voice. “I gather you have doubts about returning to the bank.”

“On the contrary, Father, I’m fairly certain my banking days are over.” Even as he said the words he realized the truth of them and a weight lifted from his shoulders. He had been content enough as a banker, he’d never questioned his role in life or his future. Upon reflection it now seemed that he had been doing little more than marking time, waiting for something to happen even if he hadn’t realized it at the time. Now his entire life had changed. And content was no longer enough.

“But you’ve made no decision yet about whether you might stay in England and accept all that goes along with the title of earl?”

“Not yet.” He studied his father. “Does it matter? When I decide, that is?”

“I suppose not.” His father shrugged. “I would imagine Nigel has a good number of years left in him, as do I. No need to decide anything at the moment.” He swirled the liquor in his glass, then adopted an overly casual tone. “It is entirely up to you, of course.”

“And I do appreciate that you haven’t pressured me about this. Even though I know what you would prefer.”

“I won’t lie to you, Jack. It’s been bloody hard not to try to press my case. But I do realize this is not a simple matter of choosing between a life as a banker and a life as an earl. In many ways, it’s also a choice between countries and between families.”

“My mother would neither understand nor accept a decision on my part to stay in England.” He smiled wryly. “Nor would she accept that it’s not her decision to make.”

“You do realize it doesn’t have to be either or?”

“I realize that.” He paused. “She won’t.”

“The last thing I want is for you to make a choice that isn’t right for you.” His father shook his head. “I’d rather have a son who is happy with his life, whether that life is in America or here, than one who feels trapped by circumstances beyond his control.”

Jack met his father’s gaze. “I never doubted it for a moment.”

“And I am here for any sort of, oh, I don’t know, guidance or advice. Sage wisdom if you will. I have learned a few things along the way, you know.”

Jack laughed.

“Particularly about women. Not your mother admittedly,” he added quickly, “even though I suspect I learned a great deal from her. But rather about women in general.”

“Good to know.”

“Still, as I said, your decisions are yours and yours alone although . . .” His father hesitated and again Jack had the distinct impression that something was wrong. “You might want to talk it over with Lady Theodosia first. It’s been my experience that women don’t like a man to make decisions that affect his future without even mentioning it to them.”

“True enough,” Jack said slowly. “But it really doesn’t have anything to do with her.”

“Not this minute, of course, but in the future.”

“The future?”

His father nodded. “After you’re married.”

Jack choked on his whisky. “After we’re what?”

“After you’re married,” his father said. “Which is exactly what I wanted to talk about.” He rose to his feet and paced. “You’re older than I was when I married your mother and hopefully wiser.”

Jack stared. Did he know about the engagement or was this just speculation on his part? According to Sam and Gray, Lady Briston had brought up the idea of a match between Jack and Theodosia more than once.

“God knows I’m not one to give advice on marriage. And Theodosia is a lovely young woman but don’t take this step unless both of you are completely certain.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” Jack said cautiously.

“And, well, I know we haven’t known each other for long and I know I have no particular right to ask for anything but . . .” He drew his brows together in annoyance. “I would be most appreciative if the next time you decide to do something significant in your life, I was not the last to know. I felt like a complete idiot today when I ran into an acquaintance and he congratulated me on your engagement.”

Jack winced. That was that then.

“And I don’t even want to think what Bernadette will do when she discovers you have upstaged her grand gala.”

“I thought it was my gala.”

“You, dear boy, are little more than an excuse.” His father scoffed. “There is nothing my sister-in-law likes better than having a legitimate reason for a social gathering of outrageous proportions that will serve to heighten her reputation as a hostess and make all her friends jealous.”

Obviously, he was going to have to tell his father the truth.

“Father, there is something—”

“And it’s no good thinking that she hasn’t heard about this. I daresay everyone in the country knows by now.”

Jack stared. “How would everyone in the country know?”

The colonel stared back. “It was in the
Times,
in one of those society notices. I never read that kind of drivel myself but apparently in that I am quite alone.”

Jack stifled a rising sense of doom. “There was an announcement in the papers?”

“Not an official announcement, more of a knowledgeable mention.” The colonel studied his son. “You look surprised.”

“Shocked, actually.” Jack shook his head. “No one was supposed to know about this.”