Jack speared another bite of potato and shrugged. “All we have in common is Caroline. And as to why I’m not surprised to see you, why should I be? I know you’re having me followed.” He inclined his head toward a scarecrow of a man with a pockmarked face and tweed cap. He’d been sitting by himself and nursing the same ale for some time. “Your man isn’t very subtle.”
“But he comes cheaply and he’s not averse to violence,” Bremerton said.
Jack heard the threat, he just didn’t care. “In his line of work, he’d better not be. So what do you want?”
“I want to make it clear what the consequences are if you do not leave England immediately.”
“And those would be?” Jack asked after making Bremerton wait while he ate a bite of beef.
“Fatal.”
Jack laughed. “Unlikely unless you hire better than that,” he said, hitching his thumb toward Bremerton’s puny hired muscle. “And we both know you’re flat out of money.”
“Are you drinking something or just taking up my space?” the bartender demanded of Bremerton, who ignored him.
“I don’t mean fatal for you,” Bremerton said to Jack.
He gave Bremerton a brawler’s grin. “We both know you’re not touching Caroline until you’re married.”
“But Flora Willoughby is expendable.”
Now Jack was angry. “I’m beginning to lose my patience with you.”
The bartender smacked his palm on the bar. “Oi! Order or get your overdressed arse onto the street.”
Jack wanted that arse to land another place. He stood and knotted his left hand into Bremerton’s cravat and sunk his right into his gut. The Englishman’s knees buckled. He staggered into Jack’s neighbor as Jack threw some money on the bar.
“He can finish mine,” Jack said and then left the pub.
* * *
FLORA LOVED formal restaurant dinners. She knew the order of cutlery for twelve courses and could handle escargot tongs without a slip. She reveled in epicurean delights and felt that fine French burgundies were nectar of the gods. Tonight, though, as she sat in the Savoy’s River Restaurant with Patrick, she might as well have been gnawing on squirrel and swilling grape juice. Flora was inexplicably nervous. And Patrick, who generally did not do well in places as opulent as this, remained completely calm.
She had never seen him looking more handsome, either. His tuxedo was so well cut that she wanted to remove the bow tie and loosen a few buttons on it. Just to relax him, of course, and not because she happened to be craving his closeness. She’d been over two weeks without even a kiss, and she was far hungrier for that than she was the filet de poule au trouffes sitting on her plate.
Patrick took a sip of his wine and looked at her evenly. “Is the food not pleasing you?”
“It is,” she said. “Very much.”
He smiled. “I’d be believing you more if you’d take a bite.”
“Oh … of course,” she said. Flora cut an infinitesimally small piece of the chicken and nibbled on it. “The sauce is heavenly,” she said once she finished.
He smiled. “There wasn’t enough on that fork for a hummingbird to taste.”
The waiter came to remove the course, and Patrick asked him to delay bringing the next one. Flora imagined the chef would be heaving a cleaver if they waited too long, but she was glad for the break. Too much was coming at her, too quickly, but from the determined look Patrick now wore, it wasn’t going to stop.
“When I last saw you, I told you to think about what I do well,” Patrick said once the waiter had left. “And instead of asking what you thought about, I’ll tell you what I know I do well.”
He leaned closer. “I‘m an incredible lover.” A playful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “But you already know that, and I won’t bore you by pointing out the obvious.”
Flora said a silent word of thanks for all the years she’d been on stage. She kept her expression the same as if he’d been talking about the weather.
“And I’m a good provider,” he said. “I’m not afraid of hard work, and don’t plan to stop until I’m in my grave. I’ll be slowing a bit now, as it’s time to turn to other pleasures, but I’m guessing that your wealth outstrips mine, anyway … not that I want a penny of it.”
He paused and smiled. “And I know I’m a good da. You just have to look at Jack to know that. Should you want a child, I’d be honored to be his or her father.”
His words made her want to weep, but then she’d miss the rest.
“And now here’s what I’ve done poorly with you, Flora, and I swear I never will again.” He hesitated, and she knew how difficult he’d always found it to admit fault.
“My Maeve was a fine woman,” he said. “I loved her with all my heart. And when she died, I thought I could never love another. But then I met you, and though Maeve had been gone a long, long time, I felt guilty for loving you. And scared by how much I did, too. I pushed you away when I should have been holding you close. I was a fool.”
Flora gave up and used her napkin to dab at her eyes.
“And then, after that, I was a liar when I told you in Newport all I wanted was your friendship. I want it all. I want your cries when I’m loving you. I want your temper when I’ve crossed you. I want you now and tomorrow and every day of my life.” He nodded. “There, now. I’ve almost said it.”
She smiled over her tears. “I can’t believe there’s anything else to say.”
“There is. I was an eejit to try to rush you on the ship. Whatever wedding you want, we’ll have. In London, New York, or Newport, it’s yours. So will you marry me, Flora Willoughby?”
“Tully,” she said.
Patrick looked at her blankly. “What?” he asked.
“Tully. Isn’t that where you were born?”
“Aye.”
“I want to get married in Tully. No fuss and no frippery.”
A slow smile worked its way across his handsome face. “You’re meaning this? Tully, County Donegal?”
“Yes, I am.”
He tipped back his head and laughed. “You’re going to keep me guessing, aren’t you, my love?”
Flora smiled. “For as long as we both shall live.”
* * *
WELL PAST midnight, Jack sat in his father’s suite waiting for Da to arrive. A fire burned in the small grate, cutting though the dampness rising off the River Thames. Jack knew he should be feeling more tired than he was, but anger sustained him.
Da came in, untying his white bow tie as he walked. He smiled when he saw Jack. “Congratulate me, son. I’m going to be a husband again.”
Jack rose and shook his father’s hand. Da pulled him into a hug and patted his back as though Jack was the one who’d done something monumental. His father stepped away. His nose was red at the tip and his eyes looked suspiciously watery. He cleared his throat twice before speaking.
“It’s a grand night,” he said. “And that was the most important bargaining I’ve done in years.” He paused and laughed. “Hell, bargaining? I gave it all away, and I’m glad I did.”
Jack smiled, though he had a tough time making it reach his eyes. “So is the bride Flora?”
“Of course it’s Flora,” Da blustered. “Who else might I be after marrying?”
Jack went to the cut crystal carafe that waited on the room’s sideboard. He poured Da a glass of what had to be Jameson’s finest. He poured a splash for himself into a tumbler, too.
“I know,” he said, handing his father a glass. “After all, who else would have you?”
They toasted each other.
“Who else, indeed,” Da said. His father had a swallow of whiskey and watched him keenly. “Do you want to tell me what happened or am I to guess?”
Jack resettled onto the red-and-gold striped settee. “Bremerton paid me a visit tonight while I was having my dinner and ale at the Boar’s Head Pub.”
“I can understand how a man like that might put you off your beer, bu
t if he was with you, at least he wasn’t squiring about Caroline.”
“True,” Jack said. “But he was making threats.”
Da sat next to Jack. “Well, I know they weren’t against you, because you wouldn’t be caring. What did he say?”
“He threatened Flora.”
Da’s jaw twitched as he digested what Jack had said. “He knows how to hurt you then, doesn’t he?”
“He chose the best available target,” Jack agreed. “Could you get Flora away from England? I know that Culhanes stand and fight, and once you’re gone, I’ll do that for both of us.”
Da let out a long, weary sigh. “I’ll have us gone as soon as I can persuade Flora to pack.” He gave a tick of a smile. “It seems we’re getting married in Tully. Clearly, she hasn’t seen the village church. I’d wanted you there, and Flora will be expecting it.”
Jack nodded. “Get her off this island, then tell her we’ll celebrate together in New York.”
Da nodded. “I’ll book passage Monday morning.”
“Thank you.”
“So,” Da said after they’d both stared awhile into the meager flames, their minds clearly elsewhere, “what are you going to do about the Englishman?”
“First, I’m going to Bernard Maxwell and asking to marry Caroline. I found out tonight through O’Toole that Maxwell is to be here by Monday,” Jack said. “Maybe he’ll shock the hell out of me and say yes.”
“If he had the sense of a donkey, he would,” Da said. “But I’m thinking the Maxwells and sense parted ways a long time ago. Excepting Caroline, of course,” he added.
“Of course.”
Da shook his head. “Who’d have thought I’d marry again?”
Jack smiled. “Me, now that you and your sense have joined up again. I’m happy for you, Da.”
He nodded. “And soon I’ll be for you.”
Jack would make it so.
TWENTY-ONE
Caroline’s father arrived at the Grosvenor Square house on a very rainy Monday afternoon. Jack, who sat out front in a hired cab, decided it would improve his chances if he at least let Mr. Maxwell dry off before he made his call. He impatiently lingered another fifteen minutes or so and then rang the bell. The butler, as stoic as O’Brien back in New York, disregarded the fact that Jack was damn wet as he ushered him to the parlor. Bernard soon joined him.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Jack said to Caroline’s father as they shook hands. “Thank you for seeing me so soon after your arrival.” The older man looked weary, likely worn down from travel with the Vandermeulens. The family never stopped talking.
“I was wondering how long you planned to lurk outside,” Bernard said. “I saw you when I was coming in. You do know that Edward didn’t make the crossing with me?”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said. “I’m here to speak to you.”
“Well, speak, then,” he said genially.
There was no point in delay. “I’m here to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, sir.”
Mr. Maxwell stared at him as though he’d just announced his intention to sink the Conqueror. “You wish to marry my daughter?”
“Yes. Caroline,” Jack added to be perfectly clear.
“But I just spent days listening to talk about how you’re about to propose to Harriet Vandermeulen.”
“It was just that, sir … talk. It will be cleared up now that the Vandermeulens have arrived. I love your daughter.”
“You always struck me as the sensible type,” Bernard said. “You accompanied Caroline over here, son. You know the trip was made to settle marriage matters with Lord Bremerton.”
“I know that was your wife’s intent, and possibly yours. I came to keep her safe from Bremerton.”
“What do you mean, safe?”
“He isn’t who he pretends to be,” Jack said. “I’ve heard talk that concerns me.”
Caroline’s father shook his head. “You can’t be about to hand me the same tale as Edward did about Bremerton trying to injure someone on the polo field? I checked with the match umpire and a dozen other witnesses. The field was wet. Accidents happen.”
“They do, but that wasn’t one. He was trying to hurt me.”
“You? Why would he even notice you?”
“He had reason,” Jack said. Admitting to Bernard Maxwell that he’d been kissing his daughter wasn’t going to win Jack a bride.
Mr. Maxwell’s congeniality was wearing thin, and his bushy brows were coming close to meeting above his nose. “Whatever issue you have with the Englishman has nothing to do with Caroline. She’s at no risk.”
“I believe she is. I’m asking you to wait before you send her to visit Bremerton. Please listen to what I’ve heard and see if you can prove or disprove it. I’ve been working to get to the people who can help me do the same, but it’s been difficult. They’re not interested in opening their doors to an American they’ve never heard of before.”
“You can save yourself the effort. Caroline and her mother already left for West Sussex on the morning train,” Mr. Maxwell said.
Which had to be why O’Toole hadn’t been able to get to Annie last night or early this morning, Jack thought. “That makes it all the more urgent to find out the truth about Bremerton,” he said aloud.
“You’re at best a friend of my family. Caroline’s marriage arrangements are none of your business.”
“They couldn’t be more my business, sir. Your daughter loves me, too. We could marry without your consent, but she also loves you and your wife and wants to please you. I respect that. Caroline told me about the husband list Mrs. Maxwell wrote. I’m asking you to put it aside and consider Caroline’s future. Give us your blessing, and don’t put your daughter in a position where to make you happy, she has to sacrifice her own happiness.”
“I’m going to be blunt about this because I don’t want you harboring hope. Look at Caroline’s family, and then look at yours. We’ve been at the pinnacle of American society longer than your family has been in America. You’re a fine friend for my son, but you’re not of the stature to marry a Maxwell. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
“Yes, sir, though with great respect, you’re dead wrong,” Jack replied. “But let’s address that later. First, I want Caroline safe. I’d like you to listen to everything I’ve heard about Lord Bremerton.”
Jack stood his ground as the older man deliberated Jack’s request.
“You accept defeat well,” Caroline’s father finally said. “I suppose I can listen. Sit.” He sat in a brown leather wing chair, and Jack took the one opposite him.
And as he told Caroline’s father all that he knew, Jack didn’t share one essential truth about himself: He didn’t believe in defeat at all.
* * *
CAROLINE SNIFFLED. The carriage Bremerton had sent to the train station smelled of mildew and had been bothering her nose. At least her discomfort suited the wet day and served as a counterbalance to her mother’s relentless cheerfulness. As they approached Chesley House, it was safe to say that Mama’s heart problem had miraculously cured itself.
“Well, it certainly is a large enough place to keep you busy,” Caroline’s mother said as the country house grew from a distant dot on the landscape to a looming presence. The long, three-story building was a drab sight. Its gray stone blended into an equally gray sky, and the reflecting pond in front of the structure only amplified the effect.
“Lord Bremerton has done well for himself,” Mama said, continuing the same one-sided conversation she’d had going since she, Annie, Berta, and Caroline had boarded the train this morning.
Caroline shook her head. “The house, as well as the title, are on loan from his grandfather. He owns neither.”
“Please at least try to be cheerful,” Mama instructed as they bounced along on a gravel road in need of attention.
“This is my new cheerful,” Caroline replied. “You didn’t let me wait long enough to see Papa, and you didn’t bring Peek. So, all things considere
d, I’m quite sunny.”
“I can hardly help it if the Vandermeulens’ yacht is slow, and you know that Peek was needed to watch over the girls in the city. We could hardly ask them to leave, when it’s not even August and anyone of import remains there.”
Caroline wouldn’t have wished her sisters here. Especially not Amelia, who had finally realized that not only was Bremerton not the romantic figure she had made him out to be, he wasn’t even particularly nice to her. It was better that both girls stayed in the city and perhaps even ran a little wild while Mama was elsewhere. The July timing was convenient for Bremerton, too. There would be little to do but sit on this moldering property and look at each other.
“I had no idea you had become so close to Peek that a mere week without her would put you in this mood,” Mama said. “She is quite devoted. I will keep her on for Helen and Amelia.”
Fondness hadn’t driven Caroline’s desire to have Peek along with them, necessity had. Peek knew people locally and could have been instrumental in finding out about Bremerton’s supposed French wife. Now Caroline was on her own, and time as well as the Englishman had become her enemy.
“All I ask is that you not hover now that we’re here, Mama,” Caroline said. If she had only Annie for help, she needed room to maneuver. “You’ve gotten what you wanted, now please give me the freedom to adjust to my new life.”
“Of course,” her mother said, and then pointed out the window. “Oh! Look at that lovely little folly of a ruined thatched cottage! Isn’t this the most romantic landscape?”
Caroline sighed. The cottage her mother was admiring was no landscape accent, but the real thing. And still occupied, too. Mama was so in love with the notion of England that she painted everything in rosy hues.
The carriage jolted to a stop and a young man who’d been standing at the front of the house came forward to help Caroline and her mother. At least the rain had stopped pelting down. Caroline shook out her blue travel cloak and skirts once she reached the gritty limestone gravel drive.
The boy led them up the house’s three broad steps, which were in need of a good sweeping, and held the door open for them. Neither Bremerton nor a servant waited in the cavernous entry hall, a space dominated by a large, curving stairway that must have been quite impressive in its day. Now it looked suspect, as did the hall. Its plaster walls were discolored, and while a few small oil paintings still hung, more notable were the dust outlines where larger pieces had once been.