Chapter 27
“McCarney, of course. The man is a veritable font of information... quite helpful.”
Jessie bristled at his smug tone. “Well, sirrah! Now that you’ve discovered what you came to, you should leave,” she apprised him, straightening her spine.
“Lord Christian should be down any moment,” she bluffed.
“I don’t believe he would relish your presence unbidden in his home. Indeed, I should loathe to see you—”
“Please, Jessamine,” he interposed, “spare me the duplicity. I know perfectly well where Haukinge has gone, as I also know you’re alone in this”—he glanced about, waving a hand in disgust—”place.” He took another step forward, removing his tricorne and clasping it to his chest.
Jessie was on the verge of informing him that she was, in fact, not alone, but something in his expression suggested she should hold her tongue. Quincy was no match for him, and she certainly didn’t want the faithful servant to be hurt.
“How would you know such a thing?” she asked instead, stalling, knowing the answer before it was given. Instinct told her he was up to no good, but beyond that, she was at a loss. It would help if she knew what she was up against.
“McCarney,” he disclosed, smiling a thin-lipped smile. “Actually, he made certain of the fact for me. Oh, and of course, I should thank my good friend Moore, as well, for it was his writ that McCarney delivered unto him.”
Jessie shook her head in disbelief. “But why, my lord? Why would you do such a thing?”
His jaw turned taut and he answered her inquiry with one of his own.
“The question is, I fear, where will you go once it is known that you’ve not gone to England as Robert claimed?
Aye, I kept your dirty little secret once, m’dear, but I’ll not do so again.
It cost me my pride—dreadfully high price, that was.
” He shook his head musingly, thumping his tricorne as he spoke.
“To become the object of pity, the laughingstock...” He cocked his head at her, his eyes gleaming strangely.
“Do you realize they are all spinning tales that you spurned me?”
Jessie shook her head in denial, thinking him mad suddenly. “I hardly think you’re any of those things, my lord. If so, then ‘tis only in your own mind, for I’ve heard nothing to that effect at all.”
“If only it were so,” he demurred. “At any rate, I’ll not under any circumstance be made to look the fool again—leastways not alone!
Too many times before has your lover—aye, Jessamine spare me your words of denial—your lover succeeded in doing just so.
I’ll not allow you to do so, either—never again!
” he swore, his anger rising. His dark eyes narrowed, and for an instant Jessie thought she could see the hurt he was feeling, and she felt for him.
“By God!” he bellowed suddenly, startling her enough that she retreated upward a step. “I would have thought better of you, Jessamine! Aye, to my mind ‘tis mighty poor thanks you would give me for all that I have done for you!”
He shook his head, and Jessie remained silent, watching him warily as he approached her.
She hesitated to speak, but her curiosity won the best of her. “Why did you keep silent, then? If ‘tis the truth that you speak, my lord, then you need only have revealed the facts, and it would have been me they would have scorned, instead. Why do you not simply tell them and be done?”
“Nay, m’dear,” he said, smiling coldly. “Either way, I’d be the object of pity, for it would be said then that you desired another over me.
.. even at the expense of your own ruination.
I might have suffered that well enough had it been any other man but Lord Christian Haukinge. You had to choose a man such as that!”
“I did not choose him! My father did. I can no more help that than I can commit who my heart should love!”
His shout reverberated through the hall. “You chose him!”
She was taken aback by his fury. “How can you say such a thing? My father chose him, not I.”
“Your father repudiated the contract! I gave him choices, damn it all! And then the bastard went and cocked up his toes! All that money I lost, but I was willing to pay again, and it was you who chose him then, even against your brother’s will!”
Jessie’s expression was incredulous. “You paid my father to repudiate the contract?”
He gave her a self-satisfied smirk and replaced his tricorne to his head.
“Why, pray tell?” He didn’t respond and she moved down a step in her fury to confront him. “This isn’t about us at all, is it, my lord? This is about your hatred for Lord Christian. Why? Why should you despise him so?”
He ignored her question. “Of course, you might come back with me now,” he proposed, “leave Shadow Moss... and return to Charlestown with me. If so, I should be more than willing to keep your confidence in such case.” He eyed the empty hall meaningfully.
“I daresay your life would be a sight better if you did. I can guarantee as much.”
“Why would you wish me to, my lord? What good could come of it now?”
He guffawed at her, the sound bitter and hard. “Apart from the fact that I might get a decent little tumble now and again? Why, absolutely nothing, of course. Except that perhaps I need not lose face entirely.”
Truly, St. John was not an unattractive man, but at the moment the sight of him literally made Jessie ill.
How could she have thought to feel sorry for him?
Bile rose in her throat and her fingers tightened upon the bare wood rail.
“My lord, you may go and tell people anything you so desire. There is nothing you can give me that is worth my becoming your wife.”
He burst into laughter. “Wife!” he said, aghast. “Why, whoever said I wished you to become my wife, Jessamine dear?”
Jessie chafed at his words. “You were, in fact, courting me, my lord, only a short time ago. Does your memory fail you so? Surely you might ask anyone in Charlestown and they would be very pleased to refresh your memory.”
Her dart had been expertly pitched, and his face suddenly became flushed, his eyes narrowing to angry slits. When he laughed again, it sent chills down her spine.
“Perhaps ’tis you who needs enlightening, my dear girl. Didn’t you realize? The wife, you simply buy; ’tis the mistress you woo.” He laughed then and Jessie cringed at the hateful sound of it.
“I’d as soon be drowned in the Ashley as to become your mistress, my lord!”
He shook his head, smiling still, though his lip suddenly curled contemptuously.
“Very well... have it your way.” He sounded bored now.
He started away, and then stopped abruptly, turning once more.
“Though perhaps I might still persuade you as yet... You didn’t happen to wonder how Daniel Moore knew to arrest the Mistral, did you?
Or why he would think to suspect Christian?
Did you wonder if he knew of Hawk? Aye,” he replied to his own question when her eyes widened.
He rubbed his chin pensively. “I see that perhaps you have contemplated such things.” He smiled benevolently.
“Well, then, you might be interested in knowing that I also know about Ben. Tell me, how is his limp now? Does he fare well?”
Jessie’s face paled.
“Improved, I hope.” He lifted a brow. “I’d like to see him walk tall and proud to the gibbet, m’dear.
” He turned from her once more, leaving Jessie confused and speechless.
“Oh,” he said, turning to address her yet again.
“And you will give my felicitations to Hawk, will you not? that is, if you ever happen to see him again.” With a dirty little laugh, he turned and strode confidently to the door.
“Wait!” Jessie implored. She could not simply stand by and see Christian hanged—and Ben! She shuddered to think what punishment would be meted them both. “I’ll go with you.”
“I rather thought you would,” he said with little surprise, and laughed hideously.
Despite the way things had been left between them, Christian found himself eager to return to Shadow Moss—to see Jessie.
While her silence had not been promising, he realized, neither was it hopeless, and bearing that in mind, he made his way quickly up the staircase, his footfalls echoing throughout.
“M’lord!” Quincy exclaimed, appearing in the landing above, his face contorting miserably. Christian halted in his step, sensing something was wrong.
“’Tis Miss Jessie!”
Christian took a step upward, then another, staring expectantly at Quincy as he ascended the stairwell. The hair at his nape prickled.
“St. John was here, my lord.”
Christian’s jaw grew taut and his eyes began to burn with fury.
“He took her with him, my lord.”
Christian halted in his step. “What the hell do you mean he took her with him?”
“She didn’t go willingly,” he said, and then, as quickly as he was able, related all that he’d overheard.
“When?”
“Not long ago, m’lord—just before you arrived.”
Even before Quincy was finished speaking, Christian had turned and was bolting down the stairwell, racing for the docks.
“I hope you’re not overly attached to him,” St. John said, lifting an imperious brow as he rowed. “I cannot simply allow him to go free.”
Cold prickles swept down Jessie’s spine.
She knew precisely to whom he was referring, but asked nevertheless, “Him?”
His smile was forbearing. “Hawk, of course.”
“But you swore you’d leave him be if I returned with you, my lord—you gave me your word! Would you break it now?”
“I know what I said, Jessamine... but it is out of my hands, m’dear.
Hawk is a traitor to the Crown and he’ll hang for his crimes.
’Tis as simple as that—Moore would never set him free.
Certainly not now that he has proof against him at last.” He shrugged noncommittally.
“Ben, on the other hand, is another matter...”