Slightly Noble Page 12

  Was he being sincere? She did not know her husband well and was unsure if she could trust him or her judgment. She had thought Lord Drury honorable. Believing his lies, she had allowed him to seduce her, and it was not even in a bed. Jack was her husband. He did not need to seduce her to get her into his bed. It was his husbandly right. Yet, he had been most solicitous toward her despite that.

  Can I trust him?

  She touched the pearl-encrusted, gold locket at her neck. “Thank you for the clothes and the lovely jewelry. You have been most generous.”

  “You are most welcome.” He took her arm, leading her away from the captain’s quarters to the upper decks. The touch of his warm palm against her bare wrist sent a tingling shock up her arm.

  Oh, why didn’t the man wear gloves? Why had she not thought to tug her sleeves down to meet the lace trim of hers? Jack had much to learn if he was to become a viscount. He was barely civilized.

  She held her tongue as he helped her down the gangplank and onto the docks. His palm lightly cupped her elbow as they walked away from the pier and toward the quaint seaside village. Sounds from the dock drifted on the breeze and gulls screeched overhead. An awkward silence stretched between them and nerves flitted like butterflies in Abby’s stomach. She nervously toyed with a button on her jacket. “How long has it been since you were in Seile?”

  “A long time.”

  “That is not really an answer.” Why must the man be so contrary? She was making an effort to get to know him better, and he was not cooperating. Most men jumped at the chance to talk about themselves. Her husband, however, was more reticent.

  His mouth hitched up on one side. He turned his head just enough to look down at her from the corner of his eye. “And you have been so very forthcoming with the answers to my questions.”

  Her cheeks flushed. She wanted to tell him the truth, but how could she face him again if he knew what Lord Drury had done to her? What she had enticed him to do? How would he treat her if he knew the sordid, ugly truth about the woman he had wed?

  “You know you want it. You were all but begging for it with your forward behavior.”

  Nausea roiled in her gut. She stumbled, but Jack’s strong grip kept her from falling. “Careful.”

  Shame burned her cheeks as she continued alongside him, her eyes transfixed on the sandy lane beneath her shoes.

  “Seil is a German word for cable or high wire,” Jack said, distracting her from her turbulent thoughts. “A German explorer sailing through the area in the early 1400s discovered several tall ships anchored off shore and decided to build a dock in the area. He named the village that grew up around the area Seil. Later, English settlers added an e to the name and took over the town the way they are wont to take over everything else they covet.”

  Bitterness tinged his voice. Was it because he believed his uncle had coveted his father’s wife? Or did he believe Abby had been so covetous of a British title that she had attempted to seduce a proposal from Lord Drury?

  They walked no more than fifty feet further when Jack stopped and nodded. The harsh lines had faded from around his mouth, and he actually smiled. “This is Uncle William’s house, Sea Gate. The caretaker who has looked after it for years died last winter. Then a storm tore shingles from the roof. Quentin and Uncle William replaced them, but there is still a significant amount of water damage on the inside, so it is not quite habitable yet.”

  The cottage was small and weathered, the porch in sad need of repair. Abby shaded her eyes with her hand, squinting into the sun as she looked up at the roof. New shingles stood out in bright contrast against older, graying ones, proof Jack had told the truth about the condition of his uncle’s house.

  Her face flushed. Jack had not “settled” her and Will on board his ship to hide her away, and he had not planned to send her to some isolated estate. Despite his desperate reasons for marrying her, he had been honest from the beginning.

  Ignoring the tug at her conscience, Abby kept her tone casual and steered the conversation away from the uncomfortable fact that she was still keeping secrets. “I hope Uncle William’s bedroom is on the west side of the house.”

  Jack looked down at her upturned face and frowned. “And how would you know which end of the house is east and which is west?”

  “I am not a nodcock. I know the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and since it is before noon and the sun is to my left, then that is east.” She pointed to the glowing ball in the sky. Then she pointed to the older portion of the roof. “Since that is the side of the house away from the sun, it is the west side of the house. No shingles were replaced. So, it is logical to assume the roof did not leak there, and if he slept under that portion of the roof, then he would not have gotten wet if it rained before he replaced the tiles.”

  Jack threw back his head and laughed, startling Abby as well as a flock of nearby seagulls. The birds took flight, screeching their displeasure. Abby stared at her husband, her heart pounding. His eyes danced with merriment, his laughter a rich, soulful rumble that took years off his face.

  “Brains and beauty. I am indeed fortunate.”

  Her pulse jumped with remembered fear and humiliation. Lord Drury had issued a similar compliment once. She had responded with coyly lowered lashes and a flirtatious thank you. His response had been most inappropriate, and she had been too shocked to respond with the outrage society demanded of a true lady.

  No wonder Lord Drury had felt justified in his treatment of her. She had acted the wanton, and he had treated her as such.

  She looked away, staring out over the dock and the ships rocking in the harbor. “I am no beauty.”

  Jack snorted. “You know exactly how beautiful you are.”

  Her breathing hitched. She stepped away, pulling free of his light grip to meet his gaze.

  He turned, giving her his back. “A beautiful woman can gain much if she knows how to use her charms. There is no need to practice your wiles on me, Abby. You are my wife. I will grant you whatever is in my power to give.”

  Her heart sank. She was not trying to charm or manipulate him for trinkets or compliments. But she had played flirtatious games to catch Lord Drury’s eye, and he seemed to know it. “Have I not been punished enough for my sins?”

  Jack jerked his head around, a stunned look on his face. “Ah hell. I didn’t mean to imply…”

  He turned completely, raking a hand through his hair. “We have both made mistakes, and I have no wish to dredge up the past.”

  Her pulse quickened at the vulnerability in his gaze, but she felt safer with her secrets. She offered a wobbly smile. “Neither do I.”

  “Then let us be honest with one another from here on out. I’ll not ask you again about your past. But I think I have figured out some of it on my own.” He smiled, and her heart fluttered. “I imagine you were accepted in high society because of your father’s position and wealth, but you most likely felt the sting of disapproval for being born a commoner.”

  He did not know her father was renowned jeweler, Henry Halsey, but he had accurately guessed the foundation of Papa’s social success and society’s reaction to a middle class merchant challenging the social order. The very idea that a man could achieve success through hard work and self-reliance alarmed most nobles, but Jack seemed different. He seemed to understand a man’s desire to rise above his station in life. Perhaps time spent in America had given him such a unique prospective, despite his noble heritage. Or, maybe he was more like her father than he was Lord Drury.

  Abby wanted so badly to trust him. She wanted to tell him about her father and her desire to be accepted by those who saw her family as a threat. She wanted to confess her every sin, her every naïve, stupid mistake. But fear stilled her tongue. She did not want to make the same mistake trusting Jack she had made in trusting Lord Drury. Simon Weston had battered her body, damaged her trust, and injured her heart. But Jack had the power to cripple her soul.

  She took a deep breath an
d let it out slowly. “That is an accurate enough assumption.”

  “And did Lord Drury accept you as an equal?” Wariness crept into his voice, setting her nerves on edge.

  If she answered honestly, she would have to admit she had fancied herself in love with Simon. Thus, she had turned a blind eye to the truth, refusing to believe her eyes and ears, believing instead, the whispered lies he murmured when he caught her alone.

  Humiliation burned her cheeks, but caution tempered her response. “To my face, he applauded social mobility. In truth, he believed the middle class should be content with their lot in life and cease their attempts to rise above their birth rank.”

  Simon had made it clear the day he took her innocence that he believed she had plied him with her feminine wiles in an attempt to marry above her station. He had felt justified in taking what he claimed she had offered. With his derisive laugh still ringing in her ears, he had ridiculed her for believing he would have married her—a commoner—even if her father had caught them in a compromising position. Abby had felt so reviled, humiliated, and ashamed, she had kept silent about his abuse. Only after she had twice missed her woman’s time had she gone to her father. Even then, she had not confessed everything.

  A sad smile touched Jack’s face. “We have much in common, you and me.”

  Despite his noble birth, Jack had lived most of his life in America or aboard his ship. Had he felt like an outsider, desperately seeking acceptance? Was it possible he might understand her motives for wanting to marry a peer? Or would he think her perfidious and shallow?

  Her heart knocked against her ribs. “How so?”

  “Neither of us are what we seem. At first glance, I am nothing more than a ship’s captain, and you, a noblewoman.”

  His words pierced her. She may have been born a commoner, but she was his viscountess now. Did he make the comparison because he thought she had manipulated him into believing she was gently reared?

  Battling disappointment and hurt, she shielded her heart with anger. “And what does a closer inspection reveal?”

  A salty breeze blew a wisp of hair into her eyes. Before she could raise her hand to tuck it behind her ear, Jack’s fingers grazed her skin as he gently brushed it aside. Warmth shivered over her, threatening to melt her anger.

  “That you are a true lady, despite your common birth.”

  Her breathing hitched. She leaned closer, seeking his warmth and the glowing acceptance in his eyes. “And you are the noblest viscount, nay, the noblest peer I have ever met.”

  “Then I, madame, am at your mercy.”

  Bending forward, he touched his lips to hers. Cold fear froze her blood, and she could not breathe. He leaned closer, pressing against her the way Simon had done before shoving his hands beneath her skirts.

  She raised her fists, palms flattening against his chest to push him away. Her fingers encountered hard muscle. His heart beat against her gloved hand, sending warm tingles racing up her arms. He moaned, deep in his throat but gentled his touch, soothing her rising panic.

  Warmth seeped into her chest, and a curious longing pierced her heart seconds before he released her.

  Abby blinked, her pulse pounding from the unexpected kiss and aftermath of conflicting emotions flooding her senses. Seemingly unaffected, Jack took her arm and continued walking as if he had kissed her a thousand times before—as if it were his right and meant nothing. She tried to behave in a like manner. It was his right. She was his wife. He could kiss her whenever he wanted, but not on a public street. Unless…

  Had he done so to humiliate her? To prove how common he believed her to be?

  Nausea roiled up from the pit of her stomach. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled slowly, concentrating on each step and each subsequent breath.

  Sand shifted and whispered beneath her feet, and the wind soughed through the trees carrying the salty scent of the sea. Abby pushed dark thoughts aside and tried to regain her equilibrium. Overhead, a gull screeched, but Jack said nothing as he led her inside his uncle’s cottage.

  Large windows let in enough sunlight for her to see several new planks in the floor, evidence some of the repairs had already been made. Was that why he had brought her here? To prove his honesty?

  He looked about the room, his face cast in shadows. Even in the dim light shining through the windows, Abby could see the pain on his face and the sadness in his eyes. And when he spoke, his words resonated with sorrow.

  “When my father banished my mother and me to America, Uncle William sailed after us. He hailed the ship on which my father had booked our passage and boarded. He wanted to take us back to Ram’s Head, but my mother refused to go. She stubbornly believed my father would see the error of his ways and eventually bring us home. Uncle William held out no such hope. So, he settled in South Carolina with us, and my mother died on America soil, still waiting for absolution for a sin she did not commit from a husband who did not want her.”

  Abby’s heart twisted, and tears sprang to her eyes. His pain was real. It touched his soul. It touched hers. She raised a trembling hand to his sleeve. He did not seem to notice. Sorrow slowly turned to anger. She saw it in his eyes and heard it in his voice.

  “At least the bastard provided a nice home for our banishment, and we had Uncle William to look after us. He had been a tradesman for years, transporting goods to and from the Americas to Europe. He kept this home in Seile but opened another warehouse in Charleston. He stayed with us when he was in America, and his business thrived. When I turned sixteen, I joined his crew.”

  “That must have broken your mother’s heart,” she said, still clutching his sleeve. She did not want to sever contact. She feared he would pull away if she did, and she would never feel this growing closeness again—a closeness that banished her earlier dark thoughts and made her feel safe. But safe enough to share her secrets?

  She could only pray that it were so.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jack met Abby’s gaze, but he didn’t seem focused on her. The warmth she’d felt earlier faded, and Jack now seemed distant and cold. He grunted, his mouth turning up on one side in a slight sneer. “My mother’s heart was broken long before then. But she rallied quickly when we reached America. She became involved in her women’s charities and was invited to the most fashionable parties. She and my father were still married, so she was still his viscountess. Despite the alleged American dislike of titles, she became the toast of Charleston.

  “Uncle William and I visited often until he was injured during the Crimean War. Then, he made me captain of the Lion’s Pride and retired. He still visited Seile once or twice a year, but he settled in Charleston.”

  Something dark flashed behind his eyes, a deeply haunted look he quickly masked. “After the Confederacy commissioned me for service as a privateer, Uncle William returned to the sea. He promised my mother he would keep me safe. Neither of us realized she was the one in danger. While tending the wounded, she contracted consumption.”

  Memories of her own mother’s death brought tears to her eyes. Her chest cramped and her throat tightened. “Oh, Jack. I am so sorry.”

  Sadness shadowed his eyes when he lowered his gaze and seemed to notice her hand clutching his sleeve. Her pulse leapt. She released her grip and slowly lowered her arm back to her side.

  Jack looked from her lowered hand to her eyes and held her gaze. His expression was no longer readable. It was like staring into the face of a handsomely chiseled statue, and his voice took on a monotone quality that lacked emotion. “Uncle William and I were with her when she died—the day after we received word that my father had passed. That same day, she made me promise to bury her at Ridge Point.”

  She watched as he visibly tried to distance himself from the pain, but a muscle in his jaw jumped, and he was unable to hold her gaze.

  The former viscountess had died in a foreign country, and everything Jack had done since then had been for her. He had returned to England to claim a title he
did not want so he might bury his mother in the country of her birth.

  Sympathy nudged at her heart. “So, you and your uncle were finally free to come home.”

  He jerked up his chin and curled his lip. “Home? England had not felt like home since I was a child, but there was nothing left for me in Charleston either. Mother was gone, the Confederacy was defeated, and I was a wanted fugitive from the Union Army. So, I came back to bury my mother and claim my inheritance, only to learn of my father’s latest treachery.”

  Poor Jack. In his efforts to keep a promise to his dying mother, he had married her—a woman who had committed a similar sin for which his mother had been accused. That alone must feel like salt in an open wound. She could not imagine how they were to bridge the gulf that lay between them, especially when she could barely forgive herself for her idiocy in trusting Lord Drury.

  Jack took a deep breath and seemed to shake off his hurt. Abby found it more difficult. As he showed her the rest of the small cottage, dark thoughts twisted her stomach into knots. At last, Jack led her onto the back porch, ending the tour and her self-flagellating thoughts. No matter what lie ahead, she would make the best of her situation. She would do what she must to make a better life for her son, even if that meant facing Jack’s anger and telling him the truth about her son’s conception.

  Would knowing she had acted the wanton and seduced Lord Drury make a difference in how Jack treated Will?

  He toed a rotten plank with his boot. “The war in America kept us away too long this time. We should have come back to Seile the moment we learned of Mr. Higgins’ death.”

  Was that his only regret?

  A bone-deep need filled her. She wanted to know more about the man she had married. Before she confided the truth about her relationship with Lord Drury, she needed to know if Jack was the sort of man who could forgive. She looked at her husband, resolute in her desire to understand him better. “During any of your trips to England, did you ever visit your father?”

  She bit her lip, bracing herself for his anger. The pain in his eyes caught her by surprise.