Blackthorne's Bride (26 page)

"Daddy!" Maddie glared at him from across Jack's desk. "You cannot mean that. In fact, I think you owe me an apology for shooting my fiance. Poor Mr. Dover."

"He's poor Mr. Dover no more. When you took off for Gretna, I left one of my men behind in Carlisle. Your poor Mr. Dover accepted a tidy sum to stay out of your life, Madeleine."

Maddie gasped. "You paid him off!"

Jack actually found himself smiling. Had he known Dover was susceptible to bribery, he would have done the same thing.

"That's despicable, Daddy." She frowned. "I suppose I don't need to write him that letter of apology now."

Castleigh rolled his eyes. "The dog breeder is no longer my concern." He looked at Jack. "Blackthorne, despite my best efforts to prevent an elopement, you've managed to succeed. Therefore, I believe I owe you a dowry."

Jack tensed and shook his head. "I don't want your money, sir. I didn't marry Maddie for her dowry."

"Oh, Jack." Maddie squeezed his hand.

"Touching," Castleigh said, "but let's see how you feel when you discover how expensive my daughter can be."

"I can afford her."

"Thus far."

"Thus far?" Jack asked.

"That's right, my boy." Castleigh gave Jack his empty glass and motioned for him to refill it. "You don't need the money yet. But who's going to pay for whatever injuries that bear causes your staff? I imagine the surgeon's fees will add up."

"Blackjack won't hurt anyone," Maddie protested. "Jack will build him a secure enclosure. He won't escape."

Castleigh kept his eyes locked on Jack. "That's what she said about the wolf. Cost me a tidy sum when that footman got bit. I'm still paying his salary, though the man hasn't worked for me in over five years. Difficult to work with half your arm missing."

Jack was about to take a large gulp of his brandy, but Maddie grabbed his arm. "Don't believe him, Jack. Danvers is doing well, all things considered. He could even come back to work ... if he didn't jump and cower in the corner every time someone makes a sudden movement."

Jack stared at her and tried not to picture the pitiful Danvers, with his mangled arm and tattered nerves.

"But if you don't want the dowry to cover bear injuries," Castleigh was saying, "then you'll want it to help with the dues."

"Dues?" Jack asked.

"Oh, they add up." Castleigh leaned back in his chair. "How many societies do you support, my dear? Fifteen? Twenty?"

Maddie was busy stirring her tea.

"Maddie?" Jack prodded.

"Maybe a few more," she murmured, staring into her teacup and avoiding his eyes.

"How many more?" Jack asked. "Twenty-five?"

She pursed her lips.

"Maddie," he growled.

"Only thirty-seven."

"Bloody hell."

"But someone has to support them, Jack," Maddie said, pulling away to face him. "Someone has to help the widows and the orphans and the homeless."

"And the gamblers and the drinkers," her father continued.

"They're trying to reform, Daddy!"

Jack put his head in his hands. He'd known do-gooders in his life. Hell, his own mother had been a do-gooder. But Maddie was the queen of Good Samaritans.

"And your societies have missed you," Castleigh was saying. "Your mother and I have had a constant stream of callers."

Maddie brightened. "How is Mother?"

"Tired," her father told her. He produced an enormous stack of calling cards from his greatcoat and began laying them on the oak desk. "She's had so many visitors calling for you. The ladies from the Widow's Benevolent Society, the Orphan's Munificent Society, the Foundling House, the Society for War Veterans, the Society for—" He paused to read the card. "—Widows of War Veterans."

Jack watched the small white cards cover his desk and glanced at Maddie. "Exactly how involved are you in these endeavors?"

"Very involved," she said with a decisive nod. "I make it a point to visit each charity twice a month."

Jack looked back at the mounting pile of cards. Foundling houses and war widows didn't live in the best areas of Town. Who knew what could happen to Maddie if she insisted upon visiting those places? She could be robbed or assaulted ... or worse.

And with Bleven still a threat, he didn't want Maddie out of his sight.

Jack's hand skimmed over his desk, sending the cards flying. "Enough," he told Castleigh. He stood and faced Maddie. "This is ridiculous."

Castleigh leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, his look turning smug. "Nice beginning, Blackthorne, though 'ridiculous' wouldn't have been my first choice."

Maddie ignored her father and bent to gather some of the fluttering cards. "I know it seems like a bit much," she admitted, "but once you get to know all the orphans and the widows, you'll change your mind."

"No, I won't." Jack pulled the cards out of her hands. "You can't save everyone, Maddie. At the very least, you must give up your visits."

"Exactly," Castleigh chimed in. "Said so many times."

"But they all need me, Jack. If I don't help, who will?"

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but was stalled by the pleading look in Maddie's eyes.

Castleigh was nodding. "That one always gets me, too."

Jack rounded on his father-in-law. "Do you mind?"

"Not a'tall." Castleigh settled deeper into his chair.

"Look, Maddie ..." Jack reached out and took her hand, pulling her close. "I need you now. More than all of these societies."

"And I'll be here for you, Jack, but you can't ask me to give up my life's work. This is my calling. This is what I was born to do."

Jack shook his head. "I admire your generosity, sweetheart, but I can't allow you to visit all of these organizations. If you want to give money, fine, but I won't have you running about London, risking your safety to help some snot-nosed orphan who'll probably pick your pocket, given half a chance."

Maddie inhaled sharply and snapped her hand away from him. Castleigh shook his head. "Should have cautioned you against that one."

Jack could tell the man was enjoying the argument. Maddie, however, was not. She was shooting daggers with her eyes. Her hands were on her hips, fists balled.

"You don't know the first thing about my work, Jack. And if you don't want to know, that's fine, but don't tell me what to do. You don't have the right."

"The hell I don't. I'm your husband. I swore to protect you, and I'm bloody well going to do it." From Bleven, from cutthroats ... from herself, if need be.

"By locking me up and taking everything I care about away from me?" She shook her head vehemently. "I knew I shouldn't have married you. You're worse than he is." She pointed to her father.

"I only wanted to do what was best for you, Madeleine," her father said.

"And I just want to keep you safe," Jack added, trying to keep his voice reasonable.

But Maddie was well past reasonable.
"You're
trying to protect me? Jack, the day I met you, I was chased, shot at, and held at gunpoint by three thugs. I don't think you're one to protect me." She rounded on her father. "And, Daddy, I'm tired of you always thinking you know what's best for me. I'm a grown woman." With her skirts swishing, she marched toward the door.
"I
know what's best for me, and it's neither of you."

The door slammed behind her, and Jack slumped in his chair. Across from him, Castleigh offered to refill his glass. Jack accepted the brandy, downed it, and held the snifter out for more. Outside, he heard a suspiciously bearlike noise, followed by a maid's bloodcurdling scream, then Maddie's soothing voice.

"If you're going to shoot me," Jack told his new father-in-law, "now would be a good time."

* * * * *

Maddie couldn't believe how many of Jack's servants were afraid of sweet, little Blackjack. Not that Blackjack was all that little. He was about two feet taller than she was when he stood on hind legs and probably weighed more than three of her put together.

But he was much tamer than she first thought. He didn't even growl. When he was afraid, he made a blowing sound. And with all the screaming going on, who wouldn't be scared? She'd intended to house him in Jack's mews until an enclosure was built, but the groom argued that a bear would frighten the horses. Being new to the household, she was in no position to argue, so she decided to keep Blackjack in a guest room—safely behind lock and key, of course.

Once she had Blackjack settled and fed, Maddie asked the housekeeper to show her to her quarters. She had thought Jack would be the one to show her to her room, but he was still ensconced in his library with her father. And she was happy for both of them to stay there.

Lord, anyone would think she was an infant, the way those two tried to protect her. Did they truly think she didn't know the dangers associated with her work? That was why she'd never argued with her father when he insisted that she take a footman with her at all times. Not only that, she'd encouraged her father to hire the biggest, burliest footmen she could find.

Most were retired pirates and smugglers she met through her work, but she hadn't told her father that.

Maddie opened the door and surveyed her room. It had obviously been cleaned recently and hastily readied for her, but other than that, she could see that no special preparations had been made.

She glanced at the bed with its pretty yellow counterpane, then wandered over to the dressing table. Laid out on the tulipwood surface were a silver brush, comb, and mirror. The antique set was tarnished with age, though it had been well cared for and kept free of dust.

Maddie touched the set and wondered who they had belonged to. Jack's mother? It was difficult to imagine Jack as a child with parents. He was so serious, so capable. Had he ever been a rosy-cheeked boy who climbed trees and played pranks?

She yawned and wandered back to the bed. Her muscles exhausted, she ached to crawl under the counterpane. Once there, she found the bed soft and the sheets silky. She took a deep breath and her eyes drifted closed.

"Bloody hell!"

Maddie awoke with a start and blinked in confusion at the dark, unfamiliar surroundings. She was warm and comfortable, but now Jack was hauling her out of her little nest and tugging her into his arms.

"Jack, what's wrong?" she murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he barked, dragging her toward the door linking their two rooms. "I leave you alone for a couple of hours and you endanger my entire household."

Maddie dug her heels in before he could pull her into his room. "What are you talking about?"

Jack lifted the candle from the dresser. "There's a bear in my house. A maid tried to clean the guest room where you hid him and was scared to death. She just resigned her post."

Maddie winced. "I tried to put him in the mews, but the groom said he made the horses nervous."

"We're getting rid of him in the morning," Jack announced, walking through the door to his room.

"What?" Maddie stomped after him, fury making her heart pound. "What has Blackjack done? He can't help it that the maid was scared."

"I'm not going to wait around for him to hurt my staff or you, Maddie. I've made up my mind. He's gone."

Jack tore off his tailcoat and dropped it on the burgundy Aubusson rug. The room was done in dark mahogany wood, offset by deep burgundy and navy. In the center there was a mammoth bed, much bigger than the one in her room. The headboard was ornately carved and highly polished, as was all the furniture.

It was a beautiful room, but Maddie wasn't impressed. Not with this room or with Jack. Why did he have to be so difficult? Why did he have to be so controlling? By jiminy, she was not going to put up with it.

Anger surged through her. The back of her neck was hot, and she felt her face flush. In a rage, she slammed the adjoining door as hard as she could, making the room shake.

"What the—" Jack spun to face her.

"So, you've made up your mind, have you, Jack?" She stalked toward him, hands on hips.

His eyes narrowed. "That's right."

"The bear is gone." She stomped closer, was almost on top of him.

He didn't back down, but she saw a muscle in his jaw tense. "That's right."

"I've made up my mind, too," she said, voice vibrating with fury. "If Blackjack leaves, so do I."

Maddie turned on her heel, prepared to march back to her room and slam the door, sealing her grand exit, but Jack was too quick. He caught her around the waist and hauled her up against his broad chest. "You're not leaving," he growled in her ear.

"Don't tell me what to do."

She struggled against him, but his grip was like a steel clamp, and the longer she was pressed against him, the less she wanted to escape. The scent of pine and leather and Jack enveloped her as completely as his strong arms. She looked down and saw his powerful bronze hand spread out on her belly. His touch was warm, the heat radiating from his hand all the way to her toes.