Chapter 25
Cart’s hand had begun to throb after only several moments of slamming his fist against the wooden door of Craven House. Now, it was devoid of feeling and hanging limply at his side. He needed to be within the house so he could dissuade her, show her that all was not as dire as she suspected.
The time he’d wasted staring at the envelope before opening it could have been too long.
“Jude.” His gravelly voice conveyed the pain he’d tried to keep inside. “I am not going away. Take the time you need, but I will be waiting. Right here.”
Cart leaned his back against the door and slid to the ground, not caring if his white linen shirt became soiled with dirt or if his trousers creased. He pulled the letter from his pocket and read it once more:
Dear Sir Featherstone, JP,
I, Miss Judith Pengarden, am responsible for the theft—and return—of Lord Gunther’s cherished vase. I am aware that my actions were wrong and am ready to take full responsibility for everything. No one else knew of my crimes.
She’d signed the letter with a hasty J.
Featherstone, the magistrate responsible for several miles surrounding his townhouse.
The letter had not been meant for him and he shuddered to think what senseless scheme she’d concocted.
This was a serious confession to a crime that would not go unpunished if Lord Gunther’s anger at Cart told him anything.
Jude and her entire family would be ostracized and publicly shamed for her offenses.
Even if Jude escaped without going to Newgate, she’d never escape the scandal.
Her chances of finding a match—or employment—would be zero.
And society had a long and detailed memory about such things.
Her name and portrait would circulate in every newspaper and gossip rag for months to come.
Her invitations to soirees and dinners would disappear as no hostess would risk having a thief in their midst. Yes, she may appear the mysterious creature for a time, but that too would fade.
She would be relegated to a life in the shadows, obscurity her only way of any life at all.
And for what?
To clear Cart’s name—certainly not. Cart was a peer, an earl.
It was likely many would view him differently, maybe even whisper behind his back about his culpability in the Gunther fiasco, but that gossip would fade far quicker than if Jude were to see charges for her crimes.
There would be lasting consequences for Cart, but nothing that time could not mend.
He’d returned the fifty pounds to Gunther and, truly, the lord’s only recourse was to go to the post with the sensationalized story.
That was all it was—no magistrate could offer any proof that Cart was in any way involved with the theft and return of the vase.
As far as society’s opinion of Cart went, he had no interest in it. Besides a few men he’d met at university and his many business acquaintances, all of society—and their lofty brashness—could go straight to the devil.
He’d overreacted at the situation and had treated Jude horribly. He’d come to terms with that before seeing his name in the post this morning. The slanderous article about him hadn’t changed his opinion either.
Everything had been out of his control since he’d met Jude—and it was exactly what he’d needed.
Life was not about controlling every aspect of your life, so much so that not a thing excited you or created any surprise.
His life had been mundane and routine since returning home from Eton.
He’d thought if he created an environment free from anything out of the ordinary, each day progressing as the one before it with order and consistency, then life would not return to the hectic time directly following his return from university.
He would keep a firm grasp on his life and continue to be in control of his family’s future.
He would ensure his sister never go through the turmoil he’d been forced to endure and never need give up something she held dear.
He’d always assumed he thrived on consistency; counting his steps, making his calculations, and studying any topic that proved out of his grasp.
The whirlwind and change that came with Jude should have solidified that fact in his mind.
Instead, it had him questioning his life thus far. Order, consistency, and routine would lead to a bleak future with little pleasure and, certainly, no surprises.
It was not the way he wanted to continue, for once he secured a school for Theo, that would leave only him and his mother…and his collecting. With his sister away, it only left him to appreciate all he’d attained. His mother would gladly sell every piece of his treasured collection.
But not Jude.
She may have been dishonest about the reasoning behind her interest in him, but he’d observed her passion for art and history firsthand—just as he’d witnessed her reaction to their kiss in Hyde Park.
She’d been as affected by their intimacy as he—that was something neither of them could have falsified.
“Jude.”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded mere inches away, as if she, too, sat against the door.
“You are so unpredictable,” Cart conceded.
“I know, but—“
“And cunning,” he continued, cutting her off. “And extraordinary…and breathtaking…and intelligent…and everything. You, Judith Pengarden, are everything.”
“I am also a liar,” she sighed. He could almost hear her tears falling. “And a thief…”
Cart had no response to her words. She was both of those things, but it changed nothing about his feelings for her.
“Why?” It was the question he’d never asked because he feared the answer would crush him further. “Why do you do it?”
“Did it,” she said. “I have no plans to steal again.”
“Why?” he asked again.
“For my family,” she confessed. “Marce toils endlessly, day and night. She works to take care of us, to care for any woman who comes to Craven House seeking a safe haven, and she lives no life of her own. None of this is what any woman would choose for her future, but she never complains.”
“She knows of everything?” Cart could not believe her eldest sister would allow Jude to put herself in harm’s way for any measly amount of money.
“No. Samantha and I came up with the ploy to help Marce.”
“And she takes the money without question of where it came from?”
Jude chuckled lightly. “Heavens no, we’d planned to slip the money into her private chambers or add it to the money brought in from the card room. She hasn’t a clue—about any of this.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why he mentioned it and doubted she remembered him at all.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Lady Haversham’s party…”
“No, before that.” She didn’t remember and Cart would be lying if he didn’t admit, at least to himself, that it stung. “You bumped into me outside the night watchman’s residence—the morning after you broke into my home.”
If he’d only taken better notice, questioned her reasons for being there, and hadn’t been duped by her attentions at Lady Haversham’s garden party, maybe they wouldn’t be in their current situation.
“It was you?” she asked. “I told Sam you looked familiar that day at the party. And I truly didn’t mean to break into your home. I was directed to your home, thinking it was Lord Asherton’s residence.”
While he was unsure if he believed her, the reasoning behind her actions made sense to him now.
Cart pondered the name, unfamiliar with the man or his direction.
“He has, purportedly is in possession, several Bible leaves of unimaginable value.” Jude tilted her head back against the door, unsure why she needed to share that piece of information as it only made her look like more of a horrid person. “Not that it has any bearing on my current situation.”
“I cannot help you if you turn yourself over to the magistrate.”
She sucked in a breath. “How do you know?”
“A letter was delivered to my home—and I am certain it was not meant for me.”
“It was not,” she replied. Curse Mr. Curtis and his meddling ways.
She’d thought he found something needing attention in the stables and that was the reason she hadn’t seen or heard from him since he departed earlier to deliver her missive.
He’d known Cart would come and discourage her from her decision when he read the letter.
“Cart,” she whispered. “This is something I have to do.”
“You need do nothing of the sort,” he challenged, his voice rising in frustration.
“I am sorry. Sorry for everything I have done. Sorry for the hurt I’ve caused you,” she said on a sob.
It was too much to hold in any longer. He was finally allowing her to speak, to explain herself, and all she could do was cry.
“I never meant to wound you—or your family. I swear it. I had no intention of misleading you when we met. It was only that Sam saw an opportunity to be rid of that cursed vase and still gain a small portion of the money we’d planned.
It was to be our final time, I promise that, but everything was so muddled at that point.
” Jude took a deep breath to focus her thoughts.
He could return to anger at any moment and depart.
She need say her piece before he was gone.
“I need to prove how truly remorseful I am. I know you may never fully believe me and that forgiveness is something I do not deserve, but neither does your family deserve the shame and disgrace caused by my actions.”
He was so silent on the other side of the door. Not even his breathing could be heard.
Jude feared he’d had enough of her rationalizations and left.