Chapter Two
He reached his estate and rode into the stables.
It was as he dismounted that he saw the flutter of white.
Bending, he picked up the handkerchief. Raising it to his lips, he caught Lady Alice’s scent—soft and subtle, with a hint of rose.
Tucking it into his pocket, he went through the motions of removing Archie’s saddle and rubbing him down.
After ensuring the horse was fed and watered, Jamie left the stables and headed back to the house.
His boots crunched on the shells his youngest sister, Briar, had insisted would be “just the thing” to lay there. Jamie had given in, because that particular sister was not one who took no for an answer.
Landerly, his estate, was large and built of pale cream stone.
To the left and right of the grand columned entrance stretched two wings.
The right reserved for his sisters, their husbands, and children when they visited, and the left for him.
Jamie walked along his side to the rear and found the door leading into his library.
It was the easiest way in and out without alerting anyone—not that anyone but he was in residence at present.
Taking the stairs up, he passed portraits of his ancestors and the treasures his mother had once collected before she died and headed for his rooms. Opening the door, he closed it behind him and leaned against the solid wood.
Safe. The thought came as the soft lamplight reached every corner of the room. Here, he could be himself, though if he were honest, he had been himself on that road as well, at least until he’d encountered Lady Alice Smythe.
Taking out the handkerchief, he studied it. The top right corner bore her initials in elegant lettering, the thread a soft lilac.
Placing it on his bedside table, Jamie went to the brandy decanter and poured himself a measure.
He swallowed it in a single gulp, and then another.
As the liquor burned its way down his throat, he stripped off his clothes and washed in the cold water his valet had left.
He extinguished the lamp and climbed into bed.
He loathed wearing nightshirts; any restriction could have him waking in a cold sweat, or worse, in the throes of a nightmare.
I let it define me, but no more, Jamie. You have to free yourself.
Those words had come from one of the only two men he respected in England.
The two who had entered Blackwood Hall alongside him.
Peers who had not been protected by the power of their birth when the doors to that place had shut.
Toby and Anthony were his brothers in every way but blood.
Unlike him, they’d found love, and peace from the demons that had once chased them.
Good women too, whom Jamie now called friends.
Rolling onto his side, he stared into the darkness. The flash of white returned to his mind, and he reached for the handkerchief. Pressing it to his lips, he closed his eyes.
*
A week later, Jamie entered the Barrington ballroom, every inch the gentleman he had been raised to be. Cool smile in place, and clothing exquisitely tailored to fit his broad frame.
“My lord,” Lady Blanchard said with a smile. “How lovely to see you back with us.”
Her husband had recently taken another mistress, which left her free to do as she pleased.
Society, Jamie thought, liked to present itself as proper and its members titled, noble, and dignified.
Men and women whose greatest daily challenges were what to eat or what to wear.
Yet beneath that polished veneer simmered an underbelly of affairs and secrets.
Most acted with impunity, confident their birth would shield them from consequence.
“Thank you, my lady.” Jamie walked in the opposite direction.
“That’s a happy look on your face,” a familiar voice said moments later.
Smiling, Jamie turned to find one of his oldest friends. Holding out his hand to Lord Tobias Corbyn, they shook.
“Where have you been? I know you’ve been back in London a week, yet neither Anthony nor I have seen you,” Toby demanded.
Not quite as tall as Jamie, though close, Toby had recently married Lady Liberty Talbot.
His friends were happy, and while Jamie found joy in that, there was also a twinge of sadness, knowing such contentment would never be his.
The tender touches and secret smiles would not be for him.
Of course, there had been plenty of women who smiled at him, just not with love.
“Busy,” Jamie said. In truth, he’d been hunting Jackson, but his friends didn’t know about that, and he wouldn’t tell them. They had lives to live and wives to care for. He would see this through alone.
Toby moved to stand directly before him, blocking Jamie’s view of the receiving line.
“Doing what?”
“Where is your wife?” Jamie asked.
“She has a sniffle and decided it best to stay home, though she insisted I attend. Apparently, she believes I need time in your company. Anthony, too, is coming alone as Evie is visiting friends.”
“And you feel as though you’ve had a limb severed?” Jamie asked.
“Of course not,” Toby lied too quickly.
“You’re pathetic,” Jamie said, ignoring the stab of envy.
“I say, Corbyn, the line is moving!” Captain Dibley roared from behind them.
Jamie smirked as Toby ignored the man.
“God, the traffic is dreadful out there.” Anthony, Lord Hamilton, joined them.
“There’s a line, Hamilton!” Dibley bellowed.
“My friends are holding my place, Captain,” Anthony said smoothly. “How are you, Jamie?”
“Good. And you?”
“Good. How come we haven’t seen you for weeks?” Anthony asked.
“He won’t tell,” Toby said. “But something isn’t right with him.”
Thankfully, the line began to move again, and after greeting the hosts with elegant bows, they stepped into the ballroom.
“So what aren’t you telling us, Jamie?” Anthony asked.
“Nothing. Now, you two, tell me your news.”
Toby and Anthony exchanged a look, and it was Toby who spoke. “How does he know we have news?”
“I haven’t seen you in weeks so surely something’s happened in your mundane lives during that time?”
“Aww, did you miss us?” Anthony teased.
As Jamie glanced toward the dancers, he caught sight of a couple parting, and Lady Alice stepped into view. What was she doing here?
“Jamie!” Anthony snapped his fingers before his face.
“What?”
His friends stood watching him, brows raised.
“What’s going on, Jamie?” Toby asked.
“Nothing.”
“Oh, very well. If you’ve no wish to tell your best friends, then fine. We’ll tell you our news instead,” Anthony said.
Dragging his gaze from the dance floor, Jamie forced his attention back to them. “What news?”
“You tell him,” Toby nudged Anthony.
“No, you—”
“For pity’s sake, someone speak,” Jamie snapped.
“Evie and Liberty are with child,” Anthony said, grinning.
“Both?” His friends nodded, and Jamie pulled them into an embrace right there in the ballroom. “That is wonderful news. Congratulations.” He meant it. He might never have his own happy ending, but he was glad his friends had found theirs.
“It’s both terrifying and exciting,” Toby admitted, looking slightly pale.
“I should imagine so. But don’t look now because your three aunts are approaching from the right, Anthony,” Jamie said.
The three women bearing down on them were important to them all. Though Anthony’s relations, it had been their intervention that had transformed Blackwood from hell into something bearable.
“Ah, look at this, sisters, three of the most handsome men in all of society,” Aunt Petunia declared. She always wore lavender.
“They are indeed,” Aunt Agatha said, her peach gown glowing under the chandeliers.
“Your necktie is crooked, Anthony,” Aunt Lavinia added. She favored shades of green. “Honestly, what was your valet thinking to let you leave the house in such disarray?”
Lavinia fussed over her nephew’s necktie right there in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by the loftiest members of society.
“Jamie, how are you?” Agatha asked.
Suddenly, he was the focus of three pairs of eyes.
“Well, thank you. And you?” he said.
“Excellent, excellent,” Lavinia said. “Now, dear, we’ve been thinking.”
Three words that never boded well for anyone, Jamie thought as the hair on the back of his neck rose. They were up to something. One glance at his smirking friends confirmed it.
“Must go. I promised this next dance to Lady Alice Smythe,” Jamie said, escaping.
“Oh, but we have something to give you!” Agatha called after him.
Jamie raised a hand and fled in the opposite direction. Looking back to ensure they weren’t following, he didn’t see the woman stepping directly into his path. Rather than knock her over, he caught her around the waist and kept walking. Stopping a few steps later, he set her down.
“Sorry…” The word died as he looked into the amber eyes of Lady Alice.
“Why are you constantly trying to knock me off my feet, my lord?” she hissed, smoothing her skirts.
Around them, onlookers who had paused now turned back to their conversations.
“My apologies, my lady. I did not see you.”
“Again?” she snapped. “Perhaps you should look where you’re going, Lord Stafford.”
“I shall take your words under advisement. Are you free for this dance, my lady?”
She looked startled, so much so that her mouth fell open.
“Dance?” he prompted.
“I—ah—”
“Excellent.” Jamie took her hand, placed it on his arm, and led her to the dance floor. As the waltz began, he drew her into his arms.
“I did not agree to this, nor am I sure I wish to, considering how intent you seem on harming me, Lord Stafford.”
“I shall endeavor not to step on your toes, my lady.”
Since the night she had asked if Kenneth Jackson had been his housemaster, Jamie had been unable to think of much else. His leads in the search for the man had gone cold, and if the woman now in his arms had any clue as to Jackson’s whereabouts, he wanted it.
Looking down at her, Jamie noted the delicate lines of her face, the soft curve of her upper lip.
A faint flush warmed her cheeks. Whether it came from his imperious behavior or the heat of the room, he couldn’t tell.
Her dark hair was swept up and pinned with tiny diamonds that caught the light above.
She truly was beautiful, and he wondered how she had remained unwed for so long.
“Are you always so presumptuous when you want to dance, my lord?”
“No. And if I say I’m sorry, will that suffice?” Jamie asked. “I wished to speak with you.”
“About what? Because the last time I was in your company—reluctantly—you failed to answer the question I posed. I’m unsure why you think I’ll answer yours.”
She wore deep sapphire blue. The neckline was modest compared to others, but he could still see the faint swell of her breasts, and that single glance made his blood heat.
He didn’t know much about her, only what others said, but since that night, he’d wanted to know more.
Still, he would be cautious. If anyone suspected he was interested in an unmarried lady, gossip would spread.
“Why did you ask whether Mr. Kenneth Jackson was my housemaster?”
“Why didn’t you answer me when I asked it?” she countered.
They moved through several steps in silence while Jamie considered his reply.
“If you must know,” she said, “since you’ve no wish to speak, Lord Stafford, I want to know his whereabouts.”
Jamie took a deep, steadying breath, something he was accustomed to doing whenever that man’s name was spoken. Her scent filled his senses, the same scent that lingered on the handkerchief he had no right to keep beneath his pillow.
“Why?” he managed, keeping his voice even, though his heart was pounding. Few names could evoke such fury, but Kenneth Jackson’s could.
“I need to find him, obviously,” she said, looking up at Jamie. He saw the turmoil in her eyes. She sounded calm, but she was anything but.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “He was my housemaster.”
Her expression softened into sympathy before she blinked it away, the cool society lady once more.
“He is not a man for the likes of you to have dealings with, Lady Alice.”
“I can look after myself,” she replied. “I’ve been doing so since my brother passed away.”
Jamie knew then why she sought Kenneth Jackson, because the man had harmed her brother. It was the only explanation.
“Don’t do it, my lady.”
“What?” Their eyes locked.
“Revenge is not something to be taken lightly, especially with a man such as he.”
“You want it, my lord, yet I cannot have the same for my brother?”
“I have more reasons than my own for seeking revenge, my lady.”
“What reasons?” she demanded.
Thankfully, the music ended then. They glared at one another for several heartbeats before she turned and walked away without another word. He went in the opposite direction, making for his friends.
Anthony held out a piece of paper as he approached.
“What is this?”
“Your list.”
Jamie actually stepped back. “No.”
“Not getting away from it, old chap. The aunts have decided. We manfully refrained from looking at the names,” Toby said.
“I’m not touching that,” Jamie protested, holding up both hands.
Anthony lunged forward and tucked it into his pocket. “Excellent. Supper now, I think.”
He and Toby wandered off, leaving Jamie with two options. Throw the list away without looking, or look.
The note felt as though it burned through his pocket.
“For pity’s sake,” he muttered. Taking it out, he unfolded the paper and read the three names.
When he reached the last, he tore it to shreds and dropped them at his feet.
Then he headed for the door. Jamie knew exactly where he was going, and that by the time he reached his bed in the early hours of the morning, he’d be calmer and sporting bruises.