The Husband List (27 page)

Caroline didn’t want to bargain anymore. She wanted to touch, and so she did. She let her fingers trail from his shoulder and across his collarbone. Jack drew in a deep breath, as though he was steeling himself for some trial.

She settled her palm flat against his chest so she could feel the heartbeat she’d craved last night. His was strong and steady, not racing as she knew hers was.

“You’re really quite amazing looking,” she said.

His mouth turned upward in a brief smile. “Thank you.”

She laughed. “No. Thank
you
.”

Feeling bolder, Caroline ran her hand over the muscled strength of each arm, then traced down his ribs and the flat muscles of his stomach. His breath was coming faster, and she could see that he worked to keep himself still under her touch. One unsteady hand still on the headboard, she bent closer. Her hair swung free of her body, and Jack lifted his hand to touch it.

“I knew it would be like silk,” he said.

She bent down to kiss him, and everything changed. Jack moved quickly, settling her on the mattress as he rose above her.

“I did better at holding still than I thought I would,” he said.

And he was clearly done with that. His mouth met hers in a kiss that wasn’t gentle or patient, but made of sheer demand. Caroline answered with a few demands of her own, and it was both heaven and torture the way he touched her. His hands were quick and sure—a touch here, a touch there, but no one place long enough to satisfy her.

“Jack,” she said between kisses.
“Please.”
And with him, asking wasn’t a form of debasement, as it felt with Bremerton. She was Jack’s equal. That made the asking a gift.

“Please, what?”

She shook her head. “Please … I don’t know. Please, everything.”

He moved a little away, leaning on one elbow while he stroked her hair. She kept one hand on his arm, not wanting to lose contact with him.

He looked down at her for a moment, then said, “It won’t be everything, sweetheart, but I’ll make it memorable.”

Really, despite her earlier bold words, what he offered was as far as her ability to flout convention would allow her to go. “Yes.”

He folded back the fabric and kissed her at the top of the valley between her breasts. He worked his way lower. She let her eyes slip closed so she could just feel. As the ship rolled and Jack worked his magic on her, time and the outside world went away. If she and Jack failed at losing Bremerton—if this was all she was to ever have with Jack—it would almost be enough.

Caroline drew Jack’s mouth to hers and kissed him. “I believe I want a small wedding, and I’d like it very soon.”

He framed her head with his hands and kissed her again before saying, “I don’t recall proposing, Miss Maxwell.”

“You will,” she said with complete certainty. “Because otherwise, how I am ever going to learn
you
by touch?”

*   *   *

TWENTY MINUTES later, Caroline left Jack’s room. Even if she felt completely different, she’d taken the time to be sure she looked the same as she had earlier in the night. The hallway was quiet and her gait only a little crooked as the ship pushed its way through the last of the rough weather. She stopped at her mother’s double doors and listened. All was still. Caroline moved on. Two more doors, and she would safe. Then Amelia’s door swung open. Caroline jumped and Amelia yelped.

“What are you doing?” Amelia asked, her eyes wide.

“I was checking on Mama,” Caroline replied.

“How is she?”

“I don’t know. I put my ear to the door, and it was silent inside. I decided not to bother her.”

Amelia gave her a very superior smile. “Maybe just like you, Mama’s out sneaking around in her nightclothes.”

“What do you mean?”

“I went to visit you earlier, and your room was empty.”

“I’ve been in the library.” It seemed a safe lie, since Amelia would never voluntarily enter that room.

“In your nightclothes?”

“No one saw me. They might, however, see both of us if we stand here chatting much longer.” Amelia was a smaller version of the white, ruffled confection Caroline knew she looked like.

“Then come in,” her sister said. “I’m lonely, and there’s no one to talk to around here.”

Caroline glanced longingly at her door. So close, yet so far.

“Just for a few minutes,” she said.

Amelia’s room was an homage to the color pink in its many riotous shades. Caroline found it unsettling, but it was her sister’s favorite hue.

“So what would you like to talk about?” Caroline asked as she seated herself in a pale pink armchair embroidered with bright pink daisies.

“It doesn’t matter what,” Amelia replied. She hopped up on the edge of her canopied bed. “I’m just tired of being the invisible Maxwell on this trip. Mama dotes on you, Helen is off in her own world, and you ignore me.”

Apparently, Amelia was in a mood.

“Why don’t you pick the topic?” Caroline suggested.

“Fine. Have you ever been in love?”

That was what she got for not driving the conversation, Caroline thought. “When I was five, I loved my first pony, Henry.”

“I’m not talking about ponies,” Amelia said. “We’re well past that age. I mean with a gentleman. Are you in love with Lord Bremerton?”

“No,” Caroline replied.

“Why not? He’s handsome and polite, and he dotes on you, too.”

“I’m not in love with him for countless reasons, but I’ll start with the most important. He and I don’t suit.”

Amelia looked at her suspiciously. “I saw you at the ball and at Harriet Vandermeulen’s picnic. It looked as though you got along very well.”

“What one sees of a couple in public isn’t necessarily what it’s like when they’re alone,” Caroline said. “When it’s just the two of us, the ease and politeness are gone. I’m a business transaction to him.”

“Maybe that’s because he knows you don’t love him.”

Caroline sought a diplomatic way to explain this to her sister. “Lord Bremerton and I are just different sorts of people, Amelia. It’s like the color pink. It’s perfect for you, but not for me.”

Amelia considered the matter for a moment and then said, “I think Jack Culhane is your color pink.” “He suits you. You two laugh at each other’s quips. You smile when he walks into a room, and you follow him with your eyes when he leaves. He is your pink.”

“If those are the standards for pink, I suppose you could say that,” Caroline said. She would have said Jack was her whole rainbow if it would have removed the cross look from Amelia’s face.

“That doesn’t seem fair to Lord Bremerton. You’re his color pink, and I think you’re Jack’s, too. I’m just tired of you hogging up all the pink. You can’t be two men’s pink. It’s not fair. Something should be done about this. Soon you’ll be every man’s pink and there will be none left for me. And it’s my favorite color!”

Caroline rose. “I’m going to bed. There’s nothing I can say to you tonight that will make you happy. Sleep, and we’ll talk later.”

Amelia glared at her.

One thing was certain—Caroline would not wear the color pink tomorrow.

*   *   *

FRIDAY’S BREAKFAST started out decently. The seas had calmed, and though Caroline was the only Maxwell eating, at least the others weren’t looking too green. Jack was working his way through his eggs and sausage.

“Captain says we are to make harbor just after noon,” Agnes Maxwell said. “The storm slowed us only a little. We’ll be in plenty of time to catch the afternoon train to the city.”

“Good. I can’t wait to get off this ship,” Amelia said while using her fork to chase a melon cube around her otherwise barren plate.

Agnes disregarded Amelia and focused on her eldest daughter. “Caroline, if Lord Bremerton’s father is in relatively good health, I expect there will be invitations awaiting you. You are to accept them all.”

“Of course,” Caroline said.

Jack willed her to look across the table. He wanted to send her some silent reassurance, but she kept her eyes downcast.

Amelia dropped her fork with a clatter.

“Amelia, that was unnecessary,” her mother said. “Where are your manners?”

“Where are Caroline’s manners, Mama?” Amelia replied.

Jack set down his fork—quietly. The best eggs in the world wouldn’t be worth witnessing sibling warfare. He placed his napkin on the table and readied to make his escape.

“See? She’s doing it right now,” Amelia cried.

“Doing what?” Agnes asked.

“How can you miss it, Mama? She follows every move Jack makes. She hangs on his every word. She has a perfectly nice man in love with her, but Jack is her pink.”

Jack froze. Either he was losing his mind or Amelia was speaking in tongues.

“Amelia, what are you talking about?” Agnes asked.

“Caroline is in love with Jack, Mama. She told me so last night.”

Caroline’s face turned white. “I said nothing of the sort!”

Amelia stood. “You did. You know you did. You said Jack was your color pink!”

Jack pushed back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said at the same time Helen was rising.

“Both of you, stay,” Mrs. Maxwell commanded. “Caroline, what is this nonsense Amelia is talking?”

“I visited with Amelia in her room last night,” Caroline said in a level voice. “She was feeling ill and a little cross. We talked. She asked me if I loved Lord Bremerton, and I said I did not. And then she lost her temper.”

“I did not lose my temper!”

Amelia would have been more credible if she weren’t shouting now, Jack thought. He kept his mouth shut, though.

“Mama, we were talking about love,” Amelia said. “I love the color pink, and Caroline loves Jack. That was the conversation, and
I
have no reason to lie,” she added with a glare in Caroline’s direction.

Agnes Maxwell gave Jack a baleful look. “You may leave the room now, Mr. Culhane.”

Jack rose. “Thank you.”

He had a feeling those were to be the last words he’d be permitted to say to a female Maxwell for some time to come.

NINETEEN

Jack knew there were far worse fates than being exiled to the Savoy Hotel. On Tuesday afternoon, though, he couldn’t think of a single one. While Caroline was no doubt fending off Bremerton at some luncheon or another, Da and he sat glumly at the hotel’s bar. They were among the few patrons there, since it was a freakishly sunny London day. Most everyone else was outside on the hotel terrace or walking in the gardens alongside the River Thames.

“I’ll bet you’ve never been outsmarted by a sixteen-year-old,” Jack said to his father.

“You’d be losing that bet. I raised you, and I’m guaranteeing that you got away with plenty that I don’t know about.”

“Point taken,” Jack said before taking another swallow of what was probably the worst lager he’d ever tasted in his life. Then again, that could have just been his poor attitude working its way to his taste buds.

“Care to tell me what happened?” Da asked. “You’ve been stewing for days.”

He’d actually done some brewery work, too, but mostly Da was right. And the days felt more like an eternity. “All I know is that I stood accused and was convicted of being Caroline’s color pink.”

“Pink? What does that mean?”

“Apparently that she loves me.”

“Then why did she just not say it?” Da asked but then gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Never mind. I know the answer. The Maxwells are a mad lot. Mad as a pack of rabid dogs.”

Breakfast last Friday had not been the most sane thing Jack had ever seen.

“So does the girl love you?” Da asked.

“Yes, but that’s not relevant at the moment.”

Jack’s father looked at him as though he’d just said Ireland wasn’t the center of the solar system. “Not relevant? It damn well is relevant any time a woman will unbend enough to admit she loves you. Try saying it and then having your words handed back to you on a platter, along with your own head.”

“It wasn’t a good crossing, I take it,” Jack said. His father had been doing his share of silent stewing, too.

Da snorted. “Between Flora cutting me off cold the first night and me playing cards with a thieving English lord who wouldn’t honor his debts, there’s been none worse.”

Jack had a very uncomfortable thought. “Tell me it wasn’t Bremerton.”

Da nodded. “It was. Flora chose the
Lucania
because it was the only ship with a Saturday departure, and damned if the Englishman wasn’t in first class, too.”

“There had to be several hundred people in first class, and you befriended
him
?”

“Intentionally,” his father said. “I’m going to have my eye on
any
British git who’s after harming my son.” He made a low sound of anger as he pushed his empty whiskey glass toward the inner lip of the polished mahogany bar. “Damn British bastard!” Realizing the bartender was right there, he added, “Not you, of course.”

The bartender nodded and pulled out a bottle of Da’s favorite, Jameson. When he went to fill the glass, Da instructed him to leave the bottle.

“Did you tell Bremerton who you were?” Jack asked.

“Just my first name, but it wouldn’t have mattered if I did. To him, I was just another uncivilized Paddy. The name went in one ear and then out the other.” Da took a sip of his whiskey. “I set him up well, too. I let him win long enough that my money was in his pocket, but two days later, when I started winning, all he offered me was a marker for the debt. The man couldn’t hold his liquor, either. He was all puff and noise about the heiress he’s about to marry. That would be your Maxwell girl, wouldn’t it?”

“In theory, yes,” Jack said.

“You’d best be making sure it doesn’t happen in practice,” Da replied. “He said how this time, he was doing it right. No manipulation or back talk allowed.”

Jack knew Caroline would not manipulate unless cornered, but that was little solace, considering Bremerton got a thrill by trapping. And as for the back talk, that, unfortunately, was Caroline’s stock-in-trade on a good day. But the words
this time
sat worst of all. Jack was sure he’d never heard Caroline mention that Bremerton had been married before. And as concern jolted through him, he was equally sure that he was done feeling sorry for himself. The hell with being exiled by Agnes Maxwell and sitting in a great pool of self-pity with Da. He had things to do.