Chapter 22
Jude hadn’t planned to see Cart until she was ready to tell him everything: her family’s past, their current struggles, and how his abrupt entrance into her life had changed everything she’d thought she wanted for her future.
It had been important for her to settle all the chaos in her life before making her amends with him.
She owed him that much. Jude knew she owed him far more than that, possibly far more than she had to give.
But first, she’d decided to resolve and remedy everything once and for all, truly be done with her past as a thief and come to terms with knowing it was something she could never revisit.
It was something she’d never desired to do in the first place, yet her options for helping her family were almost nonexistent.
She could not seek employment in the workhouses, Marce would never allow it.
She was reluctant to leave her family to pursue a life dedicated to being a tutor, children’s maid, or a hired companion, though that fate looked far more desirable than being sent to Newgate or the Tower.
It was only now, faced with Cart’s scorn for her, she realized her options were far more prevalent than she’d first thought.
Her fingers were more than skilled enough to gain work mending clothes.
Or she could have sold some of her finer gowns.
She shouldn’t have grasped on to the first notion for helping her family, but thought of another way, a less criminal way, to keep her family’s home—but she’d needed the money quickly.
Her plan hadn’t worked out in the slightest and she’d likely have made more money hiring herself out as a lady’s companion.
Anything to avoid standing here while the man she cared for stared daggers at her, apparently so angry he stood across the room from her. He obviously found her so repellant he couldn’t be within several feet of her.
“I know you have no reason to believe anything I’ve said,” Jude’s voice cracked with hurt, the anguish inside finally pushing its way out.
“But I swear I have been honest with you. About my feelings, at least.” She looked away, her hair falling before her face, unable to maintain eye contact as the many things she’d been less than truthful about filled her thoughts.
They far outnumbered the things she’d been honest about.
She turned back to him as he turned from her and began to pace the small room, his mouth moving as if he recited a poem or counted but no sound passed his lips.
His lips.
Jude glanced away once more, knowing nothing good would come of her being lost in the sight of his lips or the broadness of his shoulders.
Or the way his light brown hair fell forward across his forehead, much like her much darker, auburn hair had moments ago.
Or the way that, even now, the bridge of his nose showed tiny indentions where his spectacles sat when he worked.
Why hadn’t she noticed all these subtle things before?
Before it was too late.
“You broke into my home, Jude.” His expression was blank, unreadable. “You frightened my little sister half to death.”
“I can explain that,” Jude rushed to say. “It was a mistake. A misunderstanding.”
“I’m beginning to believe our entire relationship is a mistake, which for me,”—he paused before continuing—“is far worse than any misunderstanding.”
“Do not say that, Simon.” Jude was unsure where that had come from.
She had used his given name as opposed to his preferred shortened title.
She wanted to prove to him that they knew one another past the point of formalities or even socially acceptable pet names.
She wanted to believe she knew him deeper than that—and that he recognized her depth at the same level.
“We have been far more than that…our kiss—“
“Do not dare hurl that back in my face. You have already made it clear that it was another mistake you regretted. I suppose you are going to claim I took advantage of you, ruined your chances of a favorable match.”
“Of course not.” That had never crossed her mind. “I would never—“
“Then what about the kiss?” he asked. “Was it as false as everything else? It would not surprise me if you planned the entire ordeal, laughing behind my back with your sisters at the gullible way I reacted to your attentions.”
“They know nothing of it.” Jude needed him to believe her, to understand everything that had happened between them. “It was a moment for us and us alone.”
“So, I am not worthy enough to mention to your family?”
“You are talking in circles, Cart,” Jude said.
“If I mention our kiss to anyone, it is because I seek to ensnare you in a marriage trap, but if I don’t share the news of our kiss, then I am embarrassed by our association.
” Her head was spinning, so much going through her mind.
There was far more than she’d be able to share with him in the time they had.
Cart’s head fell to his palms. He scrubbed his face as if he could brush away all that had happened, but he couldn’t…and they both seemed to gather that undeniable fact.
“You cannot have it both ways.” Jude took a step toward him, hoping he’d let her close. She needed to be near him—more than she needed anything in her life…ever. “Tell me what I can do to fix all of this.”
“You can do nothing,” he said, dashing all her hopes. “Lord Gunther plans to ruin my reputation. No more will I be trusted to do the one thing I love, the one thing that brings me ultimate happiness.”
“He cannot do that.”
“He undoubtedly can, Judith,” Cart seethed.
“How? He knows nothing.”
“I tried to help you,” he admitted. “I drafted a note requesting the fifty pounds in exchange for the vase. I collected the fifty pounds from Lord Gunther and then, mysteriously, the vase reappeared in his home.”
“But—“
“And now, Gunther thinks me a fraud and a lord not worthy of his place.” Cart’s shoulders sagged, the gravity of the situation finally bearing down on him. “He will ruin me—my family.”
“You are not a fraud, Cart,” she said.
“I know that, but he does not.”
“It is a misunderstanding…”
“No,” Cart said, clenching his fists at his sides as he moved toward the door. “It was another mistake. I thought I could help you—save you from yourself…but I was gravely mistaken. And the only ones who will suffer are me and my family.”
“No.” Jude shook her head back and forth with such force she became lightheaded. “I did not mean for that to happen. I did not intend for any of this to happen.”
“Sometimes intent has little bearing on consequences. You will do well to take that bud of wisdom to heart, Miss Judith Pengarden.”
“Do not go.” Jude tried to step before him to block his departure, anything to keep him here—and talking. If only they continued to discuss everything, it would work out, and they could reach an understanding. “Please, Simon.”
But he navigated around her.
“What is going on here?” Garrett asked from the now open doorway. “I thought I threw you out earlier.”
Her brother stood, blocking Cart’s retreat as he eyed the pair.
“Garrett, please,” Jude pleaded. “Allow us some privacy to speak.”
“I will do nothing of the sort—“
“Do not fret,” Cart cut in. “I have nothing further to say and will take my leave. Good day to you both.”
Jude watched as Garrett stepped aside and allowed Cart room to pass by him before he moved back to block her from chasing after him.
“Move, Garrett.” Jude pushed against his chest, begging him to permit her to follow.
“No, let him depart.”
Jude pounded her fist against her brother’s chest, her frustration turning to a deep-seated ache within her, threatening to consume her entirely if she weren’t able to stop Cart from leaving.
Unbidden tears rolled down her cheeks as she laid her head against Garrett’s shoulder, her fight draining from her.
Her brother stroked her hair as she cried, her shoulders shaking with each wrenching sob. “Shhhh,” he soothed. “All is not lost.”
He had no notion what had transpired between her and Cart, but his words did lend her comfort. If Cart never forgave her, at least she had her siblings and Craven House. Though Jude wouldn’t give up. She would make Cart hear her out.
Jude cringed when she heard the front door slam as Cart left.
She couldn’t help but fear she’d never see him again, never have the chance to explain herself further. The way things were left was not the sole thing she wanted him to remember if they never crossed paths again.
As the moments dragged on, Jude calmed, her tears drying up and her sobs lessening.
The sounds of Craven House’s nightly card tables invaded Marce’s private receiving room, bringing with it the reality of where Jude was and how she’d mucked everything up.
It also brought the sense that she could fix things with Lord Cartwright. It would take work.
Something she rarely shied away from.
Lifting her head from Garrett’s shoulder, she said, “Thank you. I am sorry you were privy to my moment of weakness.”
“My dear sister,” Garrett said, pushing her to arm’s length so he could stare directly at her. “That was not weakness but the starting point of a growing strength within you.”
It seemed every man she encountered this day was full of wisdom while she struggled to grasp the simplest notions.
“Now remind me again, who was that man?” Garrett frowned. “And how are you acquainted with him?”
“His name is Simon, Lord Cartwright,” Jude confessed. It was so much like Garrett. He didn’t remember Sam naming Cart just hours ago. “We met at Lady Haversham’s garden party not long ago.”
“Why do I get the notion that you care for this man as more than a mere friend…?” His voice trailed off, expecting a response but not pushing her to admit anything immediately.
She remained silent. “It is not my intention to pry, but as the eldest male family member, it is my duty to see that no harm comes to you.”
Jude giggled, permitting the last of her hopelessness to fade as the sound filled the room.
“Oh, you think I am jesting?” Garrett asked, his brow knitting as he stood a bit taller and gave her his most serious glare. “I am very much concerned with your future, Judith.”
“My future.” She stifled another laugh. “If there is one other Craven House member whose life is in more shambles than mine, it is you, Garrett. As you can see, we are in no position to help one another.”
He broke eye contact and stomped to the windows. “This is no joke, Jude. I understand I have never been the most solid and sturdy member of this family, but, damn it, you are my sister. If he hurt you, then I will avenge your honor.”
Avenge her honor, Jude pondered. Did she have any honor worth avenging?
“It is I who hurt him.”
“Not you,” he disputed, swinging back to face her, an utter expression of denial on his face. “You are kind, thoughtful and, by far, the most compassionate of us all.”
It was exactly those qualities that had gotten Jude in the position she was in.
“Be that as it may,” she continued, “it is all my fault.”
“What did you do? Maybe I can help? Not fix everything, but offer advice.” He started pacing again. “If Marce were here, she’d know how to solve all of this.”
“I do not know even where to begin with all I’ve done to cause Lord Cartwright harm.”
“How about his most serious grievance with you…” he prodded. “We can start there.”
“I stole from him.” Jude moved farther into the room and plopped down on the lounge facing the hearth. “Not directly, though I tried that, as well, but he found me in possession of a painting belonging to his family. I also lied to him. About several things.”
“That was what he took back this morning?” His nostrils flared with his agitation. When Jude nodded, he continued, “I cannot believe all this has been happening right under Marce’s nose. She is going to be so enraged at your actions. Why would you ever think you could escape trouble?”
“It has all been a terrible thing—“
“You’re bloody right it has,” he seethed. “What do you need that kind of money for?”
“It was to help Marce pay the debts she owes for Craven House,” she confessed, happy that Garrett must now finally understand why she did what she did. “If I sold the painting, I would have given the money to Marce.”
“Whatever led you to believe Marce needed you to put yourself at risk?” he asked, stunned.
“The notices have been arriving for unsettled debts,” she said. How could he not see that what she’d been doing was for all of them?
“Where do you think Marce is right now?” He recoiled, his eyes holding no emotion, his anger having fled at some point to be replaced by contempt.
When Jude shook her head, he continued, “She is collecting on a debt owed to her and will make right with everything as soon as she returns to London. You have overstepped yourself and created much trouble, Judith.”
His continued use of her full name brought tears to her eyes once more.
A tear fled down her cheek and she held back a sob. She’d unintentionally hurt so many people she cared for.
“You said he is Lord Cartwright—an earl, correct?” His demeanor softened once more as Jude fought to hold her emotions back.
“Yes. Do you know him?” The question escaped on a cry.
Garrett kept quiet as he pondered the name, a frown creasing his face as he tapped his chin with his forefinger. “Not personally, but, yes, I remember hearing something about his family several years ago.”
“Well?” Jude glared, waiting for him to continue.
“I do not know for certain,” he said, sitting on the lounge next to her.
“…and I’d need to speak with Marce to be sure, but I believe the papers were full of rampant gossip about his uncle stealing off for France not long before Lord Cartwright’s majority—bleeding the estate’s coffers dry before his departure.
I believe while the man was away at university, his uncle sold off precious family heirlooms, furniture, and even a property not entailed to the Earldom, if the gossip rags are to be believed. ”
If Jude’s heart could sink further than it already had, it was likely lying at her feet at this moment.
“It is said his estate was on the brink of ruin and he was facing debtor’s prison for his uncle’s misdeeds.”
Cart had had everything taken from him without his knowledge or the opportunity to defend himself or his title—and Jude had done the same.
“No,” she sighed.
“Yes, it is only recently that he has begun to restore his family name and holdings,” Garrett mused.
He set his hand on hers, squeezing it gently.
“There is word that he has taken on a paying position to do that.” Normally, her brother would scoff at the notion of a gentleman of the ton being associated with the working class.
Now, she only heard sadness in his tone.
And Cart was going to lose everything he’d worked to accomplish because of her.
He had every right to despise her.