Chapter Seven
Jamie had decided the minute he opened his eyes that he needed to speak with Lady Alice. First, there was the apology he knew he must deliver. Second, there was his need to get to the bottom of why she was there last night, and what her intentions going forward were with regards to Jackson.
He’d gone through his morning routine of dressing and then eating a large meal while reading the newspaper. When his horse arrived, he’d left the house. He now sat in the Smythe parlor with a woman who he thought wished him anywhere but here.
The Lady Alice he’d known for the last few years should not have been frequenting a bare-knuckle boxing match. She was proper, aloof, and the epitome of a gently bred society lady. It appeared she’d been fooling everyone.
Yes, she was unwed, and old enough now to be classed as on the shelf, but still, he had never once heard a whisper of a scandal surrounding her, or a whisper of impropriety.
If news of what she was about reached people, she would be shunned from the world she’d been born into.
He needed to move carefully now, to get her to talk to him.
“I’m sorry for your brother’s suffering, my lady.”
He watched her shoulders straighten under the soft cream of her day dress, and the anguish leave her eyes then. Once again, she was the cool Lady Alice, and had he not seen that look of anguish for himself, he’d never have believed her capable of such devastation.
It was clear her brother’s loss had hit her hard, but more than that, the suffering he endured.
“Thank you.”
Her eyes were a color he’d not seen often.
More amber than brown, and the right had a lighter patch close to the pupil.
He’d thought her beautiful and meant it, but Jamie was fast beginning to realize she was much more than that.
She was exquisite, but he, and no doubt many men in society, had not taken the time to get past her standoffish facade to notice.
Her hair was in a simple bun today, with a few tendrils loose. She wore a cream dress with rose pink embroidery around the cuffs at her wrists and hem. But on her body the effect was stunning. A body he now knew was curved and lush.
He was not a man who gave into urges, but last night he’d touched and tasted her, and he knew that he would have those urges again, no matter how much he’d told himself otherwise. What had happened between them would be a memory that would stay with him for a long time.
But he would never again act on that need, because there would be no future for him with Lady Alice Smythe, and she was a lady. Don’t forget that, Jamie, he reminded himself. Because he had last night and the consequences had been dire.
“Tell me what the name Kenneth Jackson means to you please, my lady?”
“He played a hand in killing my brother,” she said.
Jamie knew there was more to that statement, so he stood in silence, watching her and waiting.
This, what they were talking about, was not easy for him, because until now, he’d never discussed what had happened in Blackwood Hall with anyone but Toby and Anthony.
There had been others whom they’d helped, who suffered also, but they’d never spoken about what they endured.
It was just accepted that they had. Now, however, that was changing, because if he needed Lady Alice to tell him what she knew, he had to acknowledge the suffering of her brother.
“So you believe your brother died as a direct result of what took place in Blackwood Hall?”
“Kenneth Jackson did not hold a gun to my brother’s head, but the torture he endured broke his mind,” Lady Alice said. “He never recovered and suffered terribly.”
Which likely meant she, in her own way, had suffered also, Jamie thought.
A knock on the door was followed by a tea tray, which a butler carried into the room, to place on the small table before the sofa.
It was loaded with two plates full of food.
Jamie saw three wedges of cake, and another plate filled with scones.
His eyes went to Lady Alice. Clearly, she did not nibble her food like many.
“Are we expecting visitors, Phipps?” She raised an eyebrow at her butler.
“No indeed, my lady, but as you have a visitor, I thought to add another plate.” He smiled at her.
“Thank you, Phipps. Scones are a particular weakness of mine,” Jamie added, smiling.
“That will be all, thank you,” Lady Alice said to the butler, moving around him to the table.
Jamie waited for her to pour, and then take the seat on one end of the sofa. He then took the other, and the cup she handed him.
“I have never spoken about how my brother suffered, Lord Stafford. I have two staff members who know some of what happened, and whom I would trust with my life, but no one else. This was his private battle and not one that he would wish to share.”
“As I am aware of what took place at Blackwood Hall, I can assure you that anything you say to me today will go no further. But I will add that Lords Hamilton and Corbyn are my friends and endured much there too, and I would trust them with my life.”
Her long, slender fingers tightened briefly around the handle of her cup as she took a sip of her tea.
Jamie loathed teacups. They were always too small for his hands, and he far preferred a mug. Alas, that was not what was served in the correct parlors and drawing rooms of society.
He always felt awkward attempting to hold a cup and not spill the contents down his front.
“Is there a problem, Lord Stafford? You are frowning at the tea. Do you take it stronger?”
“No, this is fine, thank you,” Jamie said.
She took a sip of her own.
“Just so we are clear, Lady Alice. Are you looking for Kenneth Jackson to seek revenge on your brother’s behalf?” Like Jamie, he believed this woman was someone who liked to get straight to the point. No prevarication needed, even on such a delicate topic.
That he was even discussing this was a shock. Jamie never talked of that time, and yet here he was doing just that with Lady Alice.
“I am,” she said, her voice strong. “I wish I knew who else was involved, but as my brother only mentioned Jackson, I do not.”
“Let me assure you that the other men involved have received punishment for their wrongdoings, through different means. However, as yet, not Jackson.”
“I am pleased to hear that, but it is time for Jackson to suffer for his crimes.”
He wanted to tell her to stop this revenge now.
The gentleman in him needed to protect her and make her understand the animal she hunted.
The man who would rip the innocence from boys who had been put into his care.
A man so ruthless he would laugh when they begged him to stop.
Age hadn’t dulled his wickedness from what Jamie learned when he’d gone to the charter school.
The two boys he’d spoken to had recounted their punishment in halting voices, each word dragging up memories Jamie had long tried to bury.
What they described was the same torment he and his friends had endured.
Cruelty disguised as discipline. Jamie had spent a long time with them afterward, doing what little he could to offer comfort, though he knew words offered nothing when the pain ran deep.
He’d told them that Kenneth Jackson would pay for what he’d done, that justice would come.
More than that, he’d urged them not to let that monster define who they became.
“Do not give him that power,” he’d said quietly, watching their too-young faces shadowed by fear and shame. “You survived him. That is victory enough for now.”
But as he looked into their eyes—empty, hollowed, and far too old for their years—Jamie knew healing would not come easily.
It would take time, perhaps a lifetime, before they could look at themselves and not see the marks left by Jackson’s cruelty.
And God help him, he understood that truth better than anyone.
He’d not left his townhouse for two days after he’d spoken with them, as the memories had come back harder and more punishing than before.
Closing his eyes briefly, he forced down the images of the time in his life that had changed him beyond recognition from the one who had arrived at Blackwood Hall, eager and ready to face this next journey life was presenting him.
“Jackson is a dangerous man, Lady Alice. The word evil embodies him. I would not advise you to ever confront him alone.”
“I know the man he is, my lord,” she said in a cold, hard voice. “My brother told me some of what he suffered, but after he passed, I found a journal of his time at Blackwood Hall. It went into detail of the torture.”
Christ. He could only imagine what she read in there, if her brother suffered as he and his friends had.
The thought of her learning about what cruelty he’d endured made him feel slightly nauseous.
There was also vulnerability. Jamie felt exposed when for so long he’d taken steps to hide his pain and what he’d experienced at Blackwood Hall.
“My brother made me promise something before his death, Lord Stafford. He wanted me to seek retribution on his behalf against Kenneth Jackson.”
“No.” The word was out of his mouth before he could recall it.
“No?” She raised a brow.
“I’m quite sure your brother would not wish to throw you into the path of a man like him, Lady Alice,” Jamie added. “Was he in his right mind when he asked this of you?”
“How dare you speak of my brother in such a way?” She snapped the words at him like the crack of a whip.
“This is no game, my lady—”
“Oh yes, you can imagine how amusing I find the memory of my brother weeping in his sleep as he relived the hell he went through, or lashing out as the anger gripped him. Watching him slide into a madman because he could no longer face the hell of living!”
Her anguish reached out to him then, and the sheen in her eyes told Jamie tears were close.