Heiress (21 page)

She watched the Wilsons take their leave, then the movement of the servants as they collected the debris of the party from the lawn. They wound up the damask table linens, extinguished the electric lights on the back lawn, and left only the stars for luminance.

Jinx drew in a breath, smelled the earthy bouquet of cigar smoke and some exotic fragrance, and turned to see Foster strolling up behind her. He had loosened his bow tie, unbuttoned his waistcoat, lost his derby. In this light, he appeared younger, the man who had driven her up and down Fifth Avenue in his sparkling new motor carriage or held her in his arms in the ballroom.

“I never danced with you this evening,” he said, his gray eyes on her. His soft tones rattled her composure.

Perhaps the party had broken him free of his contempt. She had managed the cotillion of the season.

“I apologize. I gave the first dance to your brother, as a welcoming gift, and allowed him to choose his partner. He and Elise make a lovely pair.” There, she managed the words without malice, without betraying the burn scraping her throat.

“I agree.” Foster came up to stand beside her, a softness in his eyes. She smelled brandy on his breath as he leaned down, brushed his lips against her cheek. “Thank you.”

She glanced up at him.

“For finding my brother a match. I am most pleased with Elise. She is the daughter of a banker, and her connections will benefit our family well.” He cupped his hand on Jinx’s cheek. “Sometimes your ascension to the pinnacle of society has been less than endearing to me, I admit. I had thought you might be less capable, might need me more. But in this endeavor, I find your accomplishments most…fetching.”

He leaned down again and pressed a kiss, albeit it a touch sloppy, to her neck. He wrapped his hand around her neck, angled her face up to his.

She swallowed, met his kiss.

He tasted of cigar smoke, of the bittersweet tang of brandy, and as he deepened his kiss, her chest tightened. He was never a gentleman when he drank too much. He drew back, his voice slurred. “I’ve missed you, Jinx.”

Oh, even his words could bruise. She’d stopped hoping for such affection. Now, it brushed over the wounded places of her heart like silt. “Really?”

“Mmmhmm.”

She hated the tears that burned her eyes as he kissed her again. Not exactly gentle, but not as much anger inside of it. Even, perhaps, a hint of longing, that earnestness inherent in every groom desirous of his bride.

What if it could have been like this from the beginning? Perhaps she’d tried too hard to earn his esteem. Perhaps if she’d been less capable, he might have seen her as he had before—a young girl, dazzled by his elegance, his power.

She could do this. “I’ve missed you too, Foster.” She dug deep, tried to find something of truth. “I’m so lonely without you. And afraid.”

He leaned back, his lips twisting into a smile. “What are you afraid of, peach?”

She drew in a breath, stirring up her courage. What if—what if she told him the truth? Let him see her heart? “I’m afraid you’ll never love me, Foster. Never forgive me for not being Esme. Never look at me the way you did when we first met, when you held me in your arms at the ice rink, or when you taught me to dance. That you’d never see me as…” She drew in a shaky breath, slipped her hands up to his chest. “Beautiful.”

Time seemed to stop, her heart laboring in her ears, her face hot in the darkness.
Please.

Please tell me you are glad you married me, that of all the women at the ball tonight, you would have chosen me.

He laughed. She couldn’t detect the texture of it—malice, or adoration, but he shook his head as if in disbelief and bent down to kiss her again.

She let his touch, his ardor, sooth the hollowness inside. She surrendered herself, almost fled into the belief that he saw her again as naive and delectable. Most of all, she let his husky invitation to join him in his chamber be the affirmation she needed.

However, as he closed the door behind her, as he brought her into his embrace, as he reminded her to whom she belonged, never once did he affirm, Yes, Jinx, you are beautiful.

Tears ran into her ears as she yielded to him, but he never asked why. Never even stopped to inquire about her comfort.

Never spoke words of tenderness.

Her hope died in the silent business of the union. She cursed herself for wanting more.

Most of all, as she endured him, she realized that indeed, she’d known. That night, in Bennett’s arms, she had to have known.

I love you, Jinx. I always will.

Bennett’s voice haunted her, as she suspected it would, and she lay in the darkness, finally alone, Foster’s breathing heavy beside her. She curled herself into a ball, debating an escape back to her chamber, and pressed her face into the pillow. Why hadn’t she left with Bennett? Run away?

Esme had chosen wisely, even if it had been fatally. Although Oliver had died, certainly Esme had a few moments, days, years of joy.

Too well, Jinx understood the passion that had driven Esme to despair. Too easily did Bennett’s touch sweep into her thoughts.

Foster would never be Bennett. Foster would never love her, never see her as Bennett did. Never hold her as Bennett had.

Never make her feel beautiful.

Her mother’s words resounded through her, echoing, driving her to press her face into her pillow, muffle her sobs.

Please don’t lose your heart to Bennett Worth, for I fear you will never get it back.

She waited until she’d stopped her hiccoughs, until Foster began to snore, before she finally escaped to her own bedroom.

Then she stared at his closed door, her knees to her chest. At least now, she was free. Foster would claim the child as his own. She’d arranged her own fate, and, once again, made her own luck.

Because that’s what Jinx did best.

She finally lay down, cupped her hands over her stomach, and waited until the sun slid across the parquet floor of her room, until she heard him rise, and leave.

She felt brittle, as if she might shatter. She rose and stepped onto the cool floor. She dressed herself in a loose tea gown, left off her stockings, and descended from her room before Amelia could bring her tray.

“Ma’am, I didn’t know you had risen.” Neville stood at the bottom of the stairs, panic in his expression. “I will summon your lady’s maid.”

Jinx raised her hand. “No need, Neville. I will take my tray on the terrace, however.”

No trace of last night’s cotillion remained—she’d trained her staff well. The planters flanking the broad steps overflowed with ivy and geraniums, the pond glittered with goldfish, the back lawn glistened with the dew, groomed and free of litter. She stepped off the terrace and ran her toes into the thick, silky sea grass. It tickled the soft flesh on her feet. She lifted her skirt and waded out into the thick of it, lifting her face to the sun, letting the heat wash into her.

Anything to not feel so empty, so hollow.

Anything to erase the feel of the sea on her feet.

She didn’t even realize she was crying until she heard the voice behind her. “Jinx? Are you all right?”

She turned. Whisked her hands across her cheek. “Father. I didn’t know you were in town.”

He had aged since Esme’s departure, his dark hair streaked with gray, his eyes tired. He rarely left the newspaper, and when he did, he stayed most often at his private rooms at the Casino. Today, he wore his typical black suit, waistcoat, and jacket, a bowtie at his neck, a pocket watch strung across his belly into his side pocket, fully attired, even in the early morning hours. “I need to discuss something with you. However, you seem upset?”

The unfamiliar tone had the power to unhinge her. She shook her head. “I’m fine. To what do I owe this call?”

Her father walked out beside her. Faced the ocean. “Your husband came to me this morning.” He waited, and she watched a pelican search the currents for breakfast. “He wants an annulment.”

She stilled, unsure what words to form. But just last night…

“He says, since you have been unable to give him a child, he needs to find someone who can provide him with an heir.”

She burned with the swell of shame inside her. She stared up at her father and must have worn something wretched in her expression, for his face softened, his voice kind.

She nearly didn’t recognize it.

“I know of your situation, Jinx.”

That rooted her still. “What situation?”

He drew in a breath then lowered his voice. “I know you are in a family way. And your mother suspects that it is not Foster’s.”

Jinx looked away but her father caught her arm. “Jinx.”

She rounded on him, yanked her arm from his grip. “Don’t you dare stand here and judge me. Don’t you dare.”

Instead of the rise of fury she expected, however, he met her eyes. “I fear my sins have become yours.”

Something snapped inside her. “My sins are nothing—nothing like yours.”

He continued to hold her gaze. “Yes, in fact, they are. But perhaps you don’t have to live my fate.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t understand.”

He tore his gaze from hers then, to the ground, and walked ahead of her. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Finally, “I betrayed your mother.”

The edges of her mouth hardened, her teeth clenched.

“I should have never done it, but, like you, she couldn’t bear a child. And the pain of that bled into our marriage. Kept us apart. I—I found solace in the arms of another woman.”

She knew this, but said nothing. Let him confess, tell her what he’d done. Tell her which of his daughters was illegitimate.

She steeled herself for the truth.

“She bore me a daughter. And I brought her into my barren, dead marriage and asked my wife to raise her as her own.”

Please, don’t let it be—

“Esme was the light of my life, Jinx. I couldn’t hide it, I know, and for that I apologize.” He glanced at her, and the pain in his eyes made her want to forgive him.

She’d let out her breath too.

He continued walking, and she followed. “I should have divorced your mother, perhaps. Taken Esme and raised her with the woman I loved. But I feared being cut off from my family, from our means. And I feared your mother’s father. He would have ruined me.”

Yes, Grandfather, what little Jinx remembered of him, would have brought her father to his knees. At the very least run him out of town, socially, if not economically.

“I was a coward. And then—then you were born.” He stopped at the edge of the yard, where the grass tumbled into the sea. Below, the waves splattered against the rocks, receded, threw themselves again.

“You were the only good thing to come out of our loveless marriage, Jinx.”

She looked up at him, caught his gaze on her.

“You were the other light of my life, Jinx. But your mother wouldn’t let me near you. Said I didn’t deserve you—which of course, I didn’t. But I did love you, Jinx. I still love you. I’m sorry I never told you that.”

She looked away, afraid of the emotions on his face. Of the way her breath caught, her throat tight, burning.

He stood, watching the waves climb the shore and then fall in a mass of frothy defeat.

“I knew from the beginning that you and Foster wouldn’t be a good match.”

“You knew?” Her voice emerged as a fractured whisper.

“I didn’t want either of my daughters to marry Foster. I knew of his philandering. But my desire to protect Esme from scandal pushed me into arranging the marriage. I thought Foster’s pedigree would protect her. But he has instead ruined you also.”

His voice betrayed him. “I am sick of my own machinations. Sick of trying to arrange and deceive and pretend.” He drew in a breath and looked at her in a way she didn’t recognize. “I lost Esme. And I fear losing you too, Jinx.

“Jinx, if you want to have a life with Bennett, I will protect you. I will have your marriage annulled and provide Bennett with a job. You will not go hungry. Yes, you may lose your position in society, but you will not have to look over your shoulder with regret. Marry Bennett with my blessing.”

With his blessing.

She couldn’t breathe. And then, yes, she could. Could breathe full and thick and glorious, and for a long moment she thought she might take the drafts with the pelicans.

But, “Bennett is engaged to Elise Donahue.”

Oddly, his face curled into a smile. “Can it be that I know more of society gossip than Jinx Worth?”

Her pulse had the power to deafen her. “Stop toying with me, Father. What do you know?”

He checked his watch. “Bennett and Elise had a terrible row last night in the yard of Rosehaven. Something ugly and having to do with him being in love with another woman.”

Jinx closed her eyes.

“She didn’t mention you—I’m not sure she even knows. But she did tell him that she would not abide a marriage of convenience.”

“Then she does not know society.”

“Indeed. I fear her brother’s marriage spoiled her. Put ideas into her head.”

“Is it so terrible to love and to want to be loved? To share something…” She bit back her words, pushing away the images, the senses that rushed at her.

“Perhaps not. Perhaps…not.” He tucked his watch back into his pocket. “As I rose this morning, I saw the Casino porters loading Bennett’s trunks onto a carriage. He has hired a yacht to ferry him back to Paris.”

The words dismantled her. She pressed her hand to her lips, hating the cry that nearly issued.

This was for the best. Surely, for the best. But she pressed her hands against her stomach, at the lurching there, the way she wanted to crumble.

Her father caught her arm again. This time, she allowed his support.

“I know you care for him. And with Foster set against you… Go to Bennett. Have his child. Live happily with the man you love.” His eyes glistened, and she knew he longed to say those words to Esme. “I will support you as I can. You may not have the power you now possess, but perhaps that won’t matter.” She stared up at him as he cupped her cheek then, leaned over, and kissed her forehead. “You have my blessing, my daughter.”