“Of course, Father,” he answered easily. “You sent for me.”
“Yes, well . . .” Sir Geoffrey waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, as if that worry were now behind him. “I thought it was time we had a talk. Will you be seated?” He indicated a chair in front of him while his expression grew faintly anxious again.
Jack smiled and sat down. He had not been invited to sit on his last visit to this room, he recalled.
Sir Geoffrey cleared his throat and took a chair facing his son. Then he began, “I received a letter some time ago from a Sir Waldo Staveley . . .”
Jack’s head flew up. “Is Cecily—” he began “—Miss Wolverton—well? Has anything happened to her grandfather?”
But Sir Geoffrey had lifted a hand to put his mind at ease. “No, it’s nothing like that, my boy. He does not mention anything of that nature. His letter was to inform me of the service you rendered Miss Wolverton during your stay in Warwickshire.”
Jack sat back much relieved. “Oh, that. Yes,” he said.
His father looked at him strangely. “Is that all you have to say about it?” he asked. “You restore a fortune to an heiress, the daughter of a peer, taking your life in your hands to do it, and all you can say is, ‘Oh, that? ‘“
Jack grinned self-consciously. His father’s exasperated tone amused him greatly. “What would you have me say?” he inquired with a shrug.
Sir Geoffrey did not answer him immediately. He got to his feet and walked a time or two about the room, glancing up at Jack occasionally from under his brows. Finally he stopped and asked Jack abruptly, “Why did you not come to me and tell me of this, my boy?”
At first, Jack did not understand him, but something in his father’s grave expression made him reply with the gentle question, “Would you have taken me back if I had?”
Sir Geoffrey sighed. He seemed at once pleased and saddened by Jack’s reply. “Would you have understood,” he countered, “how hard it would have been for me not to?”
After a pause, he continued, “Jack, Sir Waldo made himself quite clear about his opinion of my conduct in expelling you from the house. I have been holding this letter for the past three months, wondering if you would come to me and use this information to get back in my good graces. But you did not come!”
Jack said nothing. Now he understood that his father’s sadness was for trusting his own son so little. He looked ruefully down at his hands. His thoughts flew to Cecily and what she might have been doing these three months. She could be in London for all he knew, gaily enjoying the Season.
“You are in love with Miss Wolverton?” The question came at him suddenly, and he lifted his head in surprise.
It was Sir Geoffrey’s turn to grin. “Sir Waldo has been open with me about more than one matter!”
Jack’s eyes lit with a sparkle. “Yes,” he answered simply.
“And you would have her for your wife?”
Jack nodded. “But only,” he said, “if I could offer her an honourable name.”
Sir Geoffrey puffed out his chest, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. His voice was free of the huskiness it had held a moment before. “The name Henley is the most honourable in the land, Jack. I don’t see how she could refuse you. Now, I want you to step upstairs and say hello to your mother. She’s been fretting to see you these many months. Then, after you notify Mr. Waddell that you will no longer be in his service, I want you to bring your Cecily here to present her to us.”
Jack could hardly believe the rapidity with which his father had settled his future, but he sprang willingly from the chair. “Does that mean I am fully restored to the family?”
Sir Geoffrey’s extra years seemed to have slipped away as he answered, smiling, “Of course, you young jackanapes. Do you think I would invite your young lady here and then put you in the servants’ quarters? You had better hurry before she decides to marry somebody else.”
Jack sobered, but he was still not recovered from the suddenness of the change in his circumstances. He remembered one more thing that must be settled. “I will bring her here and marry her, if you will let me help you manage the estate.”
Nothing he could have said could have pleased Sir Geoffrey more. “All right, my boy, if you insist. Now hurry along.”
Jack needed no further prodding, but bounded up the stairs to his mother’s tearful embrace. There, he tarried for another half hour until she consented to release him, before flying back downstairs to ask his father for the curricle. Sir Geoffrey gave his consent, but to his surprise, Jack did not go upstairs to change, but strode rapidly towards the door.
“Here, boy!” Sir Geoffrey called anxiously after his son. “You do not mean to go after her dressed as a coachman, do you?”
Jack laughed back over his shoulder at his father’s sudden demur. “I haven’t the time to change, Father. Besides, she might not recognize me if I looked too respectable!”
* * * *
The next morning, Cecily was interrupted as she was reading aloud to Sir Waldo. Mr. Selby entered and stood before her with a pained expression on his face.
“What is it, Selby?” her grandfather asked, noting the unmistakable signs of disapproval in his valet’s demeanour. “Nothing to do with the stables, is it?” Sir Waldo knew his valet’s feelings with respect to the outside servants, and suspected the groom had requested to see him.
“No, sir,” Selby answered with a sniff. “I have come with a message for Miss Wolverton. It would seem that Mr. Jack has come around to the front door and is asking for a word with her. He suggested she might like to join him for a ride in his curricle.” Selby had alighted on this manner of addressing Jack since he could not bring himself to accord him full status.
Cecily had jumped to her feet at the sound of Jack’s name, but she recollected herself enough to pause and turn to her grandfather for his permission. Sir Waldo was regarding her with an expression of profound satisfaction.
“Young Jack’s turned up, has he?” he said to no one in particular. “Well, you had best get dressed for a ride then, Cecy. I doubt he’ll want to be kept waiting.”
Cecily blushed and was about to fly to her room for a bonnet, when Selby stopped her temporarily by clearing his throat.
“Pardon me, Sir Waldo,” he ventured, “but there is, perhaps, one small matter I ought to mention.”
“Well, man! What is it?” Sir Waldo asked impatiently. Leto woke up from a deep sleep and emitted a low growl.
Selby sniffed again, and his displeasure hung so thickly in the air one could almost touch it. Then he announced, “The young gentleman is not properly attired for an outing, sir.”
This did cause Cecily to pause, and she looked uncertainly for one moment at her grandfather. But Sir Waldo merely chuckled. “Run along, girl,” he said. “if that isn’t just like the young rascal. But I expect you to come back within the half hour,” he added, to preserve his dignity.
At those words, Cecily flew and, before many minutes had passed, found Jack standing alone by the side of his father’s curricle. There was a disturbing gleam in his eye as he bowed humbly to her and, without any remark, handed her up into his carriage. Then he jumped in and whipped the horses to a trot, and Cecily’s heart skipped a beat as she sensed the suppressed excitement in his movements. But she remained silent until they were well away from view of the manor, and only then did she turn to watch him as he handled the reins.
“Did you go to London?” Jack asked suddenly, when he sensed her eyes upon him.
“No.” Cecily flushed with embarrassment.
“To Stourport, then?”
“Once. To see that all was well and to try to restore some order. Many of the servants had been turned off, you see, and I wanted to get them back.”
Jack pulled the curricle to a stop under the shade of a large oak tree and secured the reins to the brake. Then he turned and faced her. Her breathing became more rapid as she saw the look in his eyes.
“Will you marry me?”
The suddenness of his question nearly made her swoon for the first time in her life, but she answered readily, “Yes.”
Jack let out a loud crow of laughter and took her in his arms, hugging her with pure delight. “What? No questions?” he said. “Do you not even wish to know how or where we shall live?”
Cecily pursed up her mouth as primly as she could under the circumstances and compliantly asked, “Very well, Mr. Henley, where do you intend for us to live?”
Jack’s mouth twitched irrepressibly as he looked down at her upturned face. “Oh, I rather thought Birmingham would be a good spot.”
“Oh?” she asked, unconcernedly.
“Yes,” he went on. “It’s at the end of my ground. That way, when I come back, you’ll be up and can fix my dinner for me.”
“How convenient!” Cecily agreed. “And what kind of lodgings did you have in mind?”
“Nothing too fancy, I suppose. A room above a shop would be pleasant. Not too far from the butcher for you nor too far from the public house for me.”
“It sounds delightful,” Cecily said, snuggling comfortably into the crook of his arm.
Jack took her chin in his hand and lifted it so he could stare into her eyes wonderingly. “Good God!” he said. “ I do believe you would!”
Cecily answered him seriously. “I think I would, Jack, if there were any need. But I know you well enough to be certain that you would not be here if your father had not forgiven you.”
It was the last thing she was able to say for quite some time, for Jack was so overcome by the love in her eyes that he gave in to his pent-up yearnings and covered her lips with kisses.
After this pleasant interlude, during which Cecily began to know how potent the temptations of the flesh could truly be, Jack clasped her again to his chest, and said, “I have missed you so. And I was so afraid you would not be here when I came.”
“But I was,” Cecily replied, in a shaky voice. “I knew you would come. My trip to Stourport was to ready it for us both when we go to live there—if you are willing?” She waited for Jack’s nod, before continuing with a radiant smile, “And Grandpapa knew it, too. He has a great respect for the men of the Royal Mail, you know.”
They both chuckled and held on tightly to each other, not noticing the gig that passed them on the road. It was Mr. Rose of the Rose and Crown with his missus, gone to call on her sister who had just been delivered of a new baby.
After one look at the two clasped together, Mr. Rose put the whip to his horse and hurried on past without a word. Mrs. Rose, who did not at first recognize the pair, turned to have a better look and then let out a shocked cry.
“Why, Mr. Rose! Did you see them two in the carriage? It looked like Miss Wolverton up at the manor and that fellow off the mail—Jack was his name! Did you . . . ?”
“Now, Bertha,” cautioned her husband, his visage a mask of disapproval. “You don’t have any call to be questioning the ways of the gentry. Though what Sir Waldo would say if he knew, and what the world is coming to in general, I do not like to think!”
Copyright © 1990 by Patricia W.B. Ricks
Originally published by Harlequin Regency Romance
Electronically published in 2004 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.