The Fairest of Them All (15 page)

She loved him.

Jack leaned in. His lips hovered over hers. Dear God, he wanted a taste. He breathed in her breath, her scent, her heat.

This was madness. It could not be. If he kissed her, he would betray all that he was trying to become, including this new reconciliation with his brother, his family.

If she kissed him, then all that a marriage to Gavin promised would be lost. He could not let her make that sacrifice. If anyone deserved to be a duchess, it was Charlene Blanchard.

He stepped back and broke the spell between them.

She lowered her head, nodded as if she had ­expected him to be the sane one.

Mrs. Pettijohn opened the door. “Char? Is every­thing all right?”

Lady Charlene faced her aunt. “It is more than all right, Sarah. It is brilliant. Completely ­brilliant.” She did not sound happy.

“Are you going to stand here all night?” Mrs. Pettijohn persisted.

Lady Charlene looked to Jack. “Our business is done here, is it not, Mr. Whitridge?”

“It is.” Jack backed down the step. He did not want to take his eyes off her. “I must be going.”

“Thank you, sir.” She hugged the hat to her chest. “This is the most noble, magnificent gesture anyone has ever performed for me.”

“It was a small thing.”

“Not in my eyes.”

No blessing could ever be sweeter.

“What did he do?” Mrs. Pettijohn asked.

“He was kind,” Lady Charlene answered, but the warmth in her voice made him feel like a knight who had won for his ladylove.

“Good night,” Jack said, but he didn't move.

She did not move, either. They took each other in, drinking their fill in silence—­because “they” could never be. There was a sadness in her eyes, in the lift of her chin. A regret.

“I pray your meeting goes well on the morrow,” she said.

May it be worth the cost
, he thought
.

He turned and walked briskly away.

C
har watched Whitridge until he reached the corner and turned out of sight, swallowed by the ever-­present evening fog. She marveled at how a moment ago, the world had been exciting, ­thrilling even, and full of possibility.

They had almost kissed. She could still recall the heat of his body, the scent of it.

And now, with the absence of one person, life had lost that momentary luster.

“Are you all right?” Sarah asked.

Char did not know how to answer that ­question.

Then again, she did.

She knew what was expected. She filled her lungs with the cold evening air and released it before taking a step inside and rejoining her aunt.

“I'm fine,” she said, and she actually sounded that way. “If you will excuse me, I shall say good night. It has been a long day.” She nodded to Lady Baldwin, who was gently snoring in a chair before the fire in the hearth, her feet propped on a footstool. “Do you need help seeing her to her bed?”

“I can manage.” Sarah took a step close to her, concern in her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I know your moods, Char. You know you can confide in me.”

“I know, Sarah. Nothing is wrong.”

“What are you holding in your arms?”

Char held it out so that she could see the shape of the hat.

“What is it?” Sarah asked, confused.

“This is what a slain dragon looks like.” Char turned. “I'm going upstairs now.” She started up as fast as she could but Sarah stopped her.

“Wait. You'll want a candle.”

Char did. She came down a few steps so she could take the wax stub Sarah picked up off the hall table where they kept the bits and pieces from around the house. Sarah lit it from a candle in the front room and carefully brought it back to Char. She offered it to her.

As Char accepted the candle, Sarah said, “The duke is a good man.”

“I know.”

Sarah waited a beat and added, “Choose the good man, Char, the one whose character is well known.”

“I understand my responsibilities, Sarah,” Char answered. “I know what is expected.” With that, she turned and went upstairs.

Inside her room, she lit the lamp by her bed and blew out the candle.

“I know what is expected,” she whispered to herself as she looked at Leo's hat that had been the pride of his wardrobe.

However, when she finally fell asleep that night, her dreams were not full of dukes . . . but of a man whom she had confided in. A man who had proved not only that he could be trusted, but that he would fight for her.

This had been what her father had meant.

Chapter Fifteen

J
ack did not return directly to Menheim after leaving Charlene.

He walked and walked, hoping that in movement he would take ahold of himself. And failed. He realized the futility of what he was attempting to do close to midnight when he found himself in Hyde Park.

“I'm in love.” He spoke to no one. There were few out and about at this hour on a Sunday night or, at least, no one who would give a care to a man speaking to himself, and he was tired of ­pretending. “It isn't just her looks that intrigue me. I love
her
.”

Yes, her—­Charlene Blanchard. His kindred spirit.

After Hope's death, he had believed he'd never love deeply again. Her loss had almost crushed him. What man would willingly suffer the ­possibility of such pain again?

This one.

Years ago, when he'd been Leo's age, he'd done what he must to direct his own life. He'd made a rash decision, and yet he had fearlessly carried on. He'd survived. Both good and bad had come out of his leaving, but he derived a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that the choices had all been his.

Charlene was a survivor as well. She was not afraid to break with tradition, to do what she must to live life on her terms.

With her spirit, she would take over Boston. The local society would not know what to do with her candor and they would adore her.

He
would adore her.

In one fell swoop, Jack could imagine her as his wife. He allowed himself to think of children again. Their sons and daughters would be strong-­willed and brave. They would also be imaginative and full of dreams. . . . just as their parents were.

Best, Jack's days would never be dull. Nor his nights.

The thought of having her in his arms, holding her, making love to her . . .

Jack gave himself a shake. Charlene had ­awakened a part of him that he'd thought he'd lost with Hope. It was more than desire or even lust. She had rekindled in him the sense that life in all its circumstances was worth living, and living fully.

But she was not his.

Gavin had staked his claim. Gavin wanted her.

And that was the crucial point of the matter.

He'd come to realize that the person who had been the most affected by his leaving years ago had been his twin. Jack could see now that, back in school, he had been a tether for Gavin. His leaving had left his brother feeling isolated with only their father for guidance.

Jack had no doubt that Charlene returned his feelings with an intensity that rivaled his own. He was also certain that those who loved her would discourage her from him.

In truth, even
he
would advise her to choose Gavin. Jack's law practice was growing but struggled. He had just hung his shingle when Strong had tapped him for this mission. For years, he'd been living modestly, and who knew if he could support a wife?

However, there was something about the way she'd looked at him tonight that had made him feel a hero. A warrior. She had held Leo's ratty hat as if it was a trophy. He had saved her from blackmail. For one unguarded moment, he'd seen ­mirrored in her eyes the same strong, vivid ­emotion that now ruled his own heart—­
love
.

And did the sage not claim that love could ­conquer all?

“So what shall you do about it?” Jack asked himself.

The answer was silence.

On the morrow, he would take part in the most important meeting of his life. The stakes were high. Whether the British realized it or not, war hung in the balance.

This was no time for Jack to be moony-­eyed. Or to place personal desire, even love, over what was right and just.

He stood in the dark of an empty park in the middle of a vast and powerful city and realized he must keep his distance from Charlene. It was the only honorable thing to do and, to Jack's ­surprise, he was honorable.

It had been bred into him.

The driving, restless need to move after seeing her vanished when met with brutal honesty. He could not, must not press his suit with Charlene.

It would irreparably damage his relationship with his twin. Gavin might have yielded to Elin falling in love with Ben, but Jack knew his twin's ego was every bit as strong as his own. Gavin would not take kindly to another betrayal, not from the black sheep of the family. Especially after all the Fashionable World knew his intentions.

Therefore, if Jack loved his twin—­and, ­surprisingly, he did—­
and
if he loved Charlene—­passionately—­then he must step back. He must accomplish what he'd set out to do and return to his life, leaving these two good people to their happiness.

Damn, being noble was a sword thrust to the heart. But Jack would recover. Hope had taught him that lesson.

And now that he'd reached his decision, now that he knew what he must do, Jack felt exhausted. Depleted.

If he was going to make sense on the morrow, he needed to find his bed.

Menheim was a short distance from the park.

Jack entered the front door shortly after midnight. He was tired but he wanted to review one more time the speech he'd written that he would be presenting at the meeting.

He opened the door, and found Gavin sitting on the stairs, waiting for him. The flickering light from the wall sconces reflected on an empty glass in his twin's hand. He appeared relaxed. He had abandoned his jacket and untied his neck cloth, but Jack could feel the tension around him.

“Hello,” Jack said, giving his hat and coat to a nervous-­looking footman. “Waiting up for me?”

Gavin looked down at the empty glass before saying, “I did wonder where you had gone off to.”

He knew.
In that uncanny way twins had of reading each other's minds, Jack knew that Gavin was aware of exactly where he'd been. And why.

“Do you still have Perkins following me?”

The footman had taken Jack's coat and hat to a closet. He had started back into the front hall but at Jack's question, the servant stopped mid-­stride, and then quite wisely retreated away from the brothers.

“Do I need to do so?” Gavin countered.

Jack shrugged, having no problem meeting his brother's distrust with his own honesty. “I never felt the need to be followed in the first place.”

“Tomorrow is an important day for you,” Gavin said, changing the subject. “There will be men there who believe you could be a traitor.”

Jack's first impression had been that Gavin has sensed his desire for Charlene. Now, he wasn't sure. Was Gavin having doubts about lending his support to the United States cause? “A traitor to what? Not to my values. Not to what I believe is important.”

Gavin held up his empty glass as if it was a symbol. “They see you as an Englishman, Jack. They don't trust that you speak for another country. They question your
allegiance
.”

The last word hung in the air between them. Jack spoke, “Especially since I once turned my back on my family?”

Gavin rose. “Or are you about to turn your back again?”

“What is it you are really asking, brother?” Jack tried to speak lightly. Gavin spoke in riddles. That he was angry was clear to see, but why?

“Whether or not I can trust you. Is that not clear?” Gavin came down the stairs but did not cross the floor to his twin. His jaw had hardened. “Because I am not certain, Jack. What do you want? Do you want what I have?
Is that all you have ever wanted?
”

“You can trust me as much I can trust you.” Jack took a step toward him. “There was a time I was jealous of you, when I railed against the unfairness of it all. Two equal minds, two legitimate rights, and one came out of the womb before the other. You are duke because of a twist of fate. No more, no less. I have come to terms with the past.”

“But is your allegiance with this family?”

“Why do I sense this has nothing to do with the family and everything about what is between you and me? I am the outsider, Gavin. I always have been, even when we were boys. Do I wish you harm? No. But I must live my life my own way. Are you wondering if I have love for you? I do. And none is more surprised than myself. When I was younger, I thought I had to rail against what I perceived as unfair to find the freedom I wanted. Now I understand that my leaving had nothing to do with you or Mother or Ben or even Father. I had a desire to wander and explore. It was born into me. I've always longed to know what was on the other side of a hill or where I would go if I followed a road.

“I sense your distrust, Gavin, and I can accept it. We do not know each other well. As twins and brothers, we have been at cross purposes more than we have agreed.”

Taking another step toward Gavin, Jack added, “Yes, I have adopted another country and I understand that in some men's eyes that would make me a turncoat. But I'm not. I've simply chosen another way to live. By representing a country whose values I respect, freedoms that appeal to me—­I'm not rejecting the land of my birth. I'm making a choice that pleases me. If I had no value for ­England, I would not be taking this time from my life to promote peace and understanding ­between us. Does that set your mind to rest?”

Gavin's answer was “Stay away from her.”

So, this
was
about Charlene.

Having given his edict, Gavin turned and started up the stairs. As he climbed, he threw the glass he held in his hand against the far wall. The crystal shattered as if in warning and Jack's temper snapped.

The self-­pitying bastard
. Who did he believe he was to dismiss Jack after he'd spoken from his heart?

“So you
did
have Perkins follow me,” Jack called up to him.

Gavin turned on the step. “No, it was your long-­winded answer that gave it away.” He went back to climbing.

Jack watched him a moment and then charged after him, taking the steps two at a time.

Gavin had already reached the hall. He walked toward his bedroom, a lumbering bear of a duke, the flickering wall sconces sending his shadow ahead of him.

With long strides, Jack passed him and blocked his path. “There is nothing between Charlene Blanchard and myself.” He could say that with good conscience because he had made his decision.

Gavin's narrowed eyes informed Jack that he didn't believe him. He made as if to step around Jack.

Jack raised his arm to push against his twin's chest. “Did you not hear anything I said downstairs? Tomorrow is one of the most important days of my life. I have come to London to avoid a war, Gavin. Yes, I admire Lady Charlene. You are a damn lucky man. But I won't be the one who stands in your way for her.”

“You won't?” Gavin's forearm slammed Jack's arm away. “Then what were you doing this ­evening?”

“I was seeing to a matter of some importance. Oh your behalf, I might say.” That was true. That Charlene was being blackmailed might have evolved into a dangerous situation for Baynton.

Gavin's mouth flattened in disbelief. “Tell me. I am interested in what you have done for
me
.”

Jack could not answer, not without betraying Charlene, and he would not do that. “It is no longer a concern. The threat is passed.”

“Ah, ‘the threat is passed.' How good of you, brother. I shall go to my bed and sleep well.” He started toward his room but swung back around. With the repressed rage of a mongrel dog, he pointed his finger at Jack's chest and said, “Stay the bloody hell away from me and from her.”

“Wait.” Jack grabbed his arm as Gavin started to leave.

Of course, no one laid hands on a duke without permission. The look Gavin gave him would have withered lesser men, or anyone English—­but Jack was past that. There was not a man walking the face of this earth who could cow him.

“I need you on the morrow,” Jack said. “You promised you would be there. This meeting is bigger than your jealousy.”

“There will be no ‘meeting' on the morrow. You should have understood that downstairs. I've called it off. And I want you gone, Jack. I want you and your delegation out of
my
country. We are done.”

“You can't do that. Gavin, this is larger than any argument between us—­”

Gavin punched him hard in the mouth. Caught unaware, Jack lost his footing. He stepped back, his own fist clenching, but Gavin had reached his room. He slammed the door.

Jack tasted blood. His whole jaw would be bruised in the morning.

Henry the butler materialized out of the shadows. “Lord Jack?”

Stunned by what had transpired and how quickly, Jack rubbed his jaw. “Yes?”

“I had orders to remove your belongings to the lodging of your fellow Americans. I am also to see you there as well.”

Raising the back of his sleeve to his cut lip, Jack knew the meeting was done. Everything he had hoped to do was in shambles.

A door quietly closed down the hall. The door to his mother's room. She had heard all.

“Of course,” Jack said to Henry. “There is ­nothing left for me here.”