Secrets of a Perfect Night (22 page)

George stared for a long, silent moment. “Will you give me your word that you will tell Rachael everything when I am gone?”

“No,” Jason said without hesitation.

“Why on earth not?”

“I will not have her think ill of you after you’re gone.”

“Damnation, you are as stubborn as your cousin. And every bit as foolish.” George sniffed, and for a moment Jason thought he saw a glimmer of tears in the older man’s eyes. “You’ve become a fine man, Jason. You have made me proud.”

The back of Jason’s throat ached with emotion. He groped for a response, but words alone were not enough. He squeezed George’s hand.

“You’re going back to America, aren’t you?” George said quietly.

“I left rather quickly. I have a number of matters that need my attention.” Jason smiled. “I think it’s for the best.”

“You will return to claim your inheritance.” George’s voice was firm, but there was a familiar twinkle in his eye. “I do insist you promise me that. England will always be your home and I will not waste my time in paradise trying to explain to each and every previous Earl of Lyndhurst why the current holder of the title is not in residence.”

Jason laughed. “Very well. You have my word.”

“I understand why you’re unwilling to stay. Still…
it is difficult…” George sighed, and Jason knew it would not be long before he’d be keeping his promise.

But why wait? If he left for America at once, he could wrap up his affairs and, with luck, return before it was too late. If his presence eased George’s mind in his remaining days, then it was worth enduring Rachael’s hatred.

“We will see each other again soon.”

“If not in this life…” George smiled.

They chatted for a few more minutes, but Jason could see the visit had taken a toll on George. Eventually his eyes closed and he slept.

Jason stayed by his bedside until the shadows in the room deepened and the day turned to dusk. Finally he took his leave, bidding good-bye to Mayfair and entrusting him with the care of the earl and countess.

He didn’t see Rachael on his way out and thought that, too, was for the best. His head filled with the myriad details of winding up his business interests in America, and in a habit as natural to him now as breathing, he absently rested his hand against the small pocket in his waistcoat, heavy with a familiar weight carried on his person day and night for seven years.

And through the fabric his fingers traced the distinct and unmistakable shape of half a gold coin.

1815

I suspected, or perhaps simply hoped, that you had resolved to return home before my death. I fear, my dear boy, you will not make it. The hostilities between America and England will make travel difficult if not impossible
.

I should have forced you to tell her the truth when you came to London. Yet even then I was afraid of losing her. Worse, I feared she would stay with me out of pity. And that, I could not bear
.

What I did not have the courage to do in life, I can do in death. I have instructed my solicitor to deliver this letter to you and another for Rachael only upon your return to England. I do not wish for you to be separated by an ocean when she learns all. She will need you then
.

Do not allow the actions of others that have heretofore shaped your lives determine what is yet to come. Do not allow the mistakes of the past to eclipse the promise of the future. And do not allow Rachael’s memories to color what is here and now
.

Jason’s gaze idly searched the crowd. Would there be a familiar face among the guests present? It had been more than a decade since his last appearance at a London ball, and he had not kept in touch with past acquaintances.

He sipped his champagne ruefully. He wasn’t fooling himself. He didn’t care a fig for past acquaintances. There was only one familiar face he wished to see. He’d put off going to see her since his return to London. Now would George’s letters change everything?

Would she indeed need him? Or had she come too far from the girl she’d been to so much as consider the possibility of reunion? It was not inconceivable that
George’s admissions would bring her peace and she would view Jason in a more cordial manner, but that would be the extent of it.

And what of him? What if, upon his first glance of Rachael, he realized the past was over and done with and it was time to go on with his life?

He chuckled softly. Despite years of hard work, a few adventurous moments here and there, and any number of women whose names he could not remember, Rachael had always been in his mind. And in his heart.

Somewhere along the way, he’d come across the idea of souls destined one for the other. No matter how hard he’d tried every day, every minute, he couldn’t escape the belief, somewhere deep in his gut, that his soul was bound with hers for all eternity. They were meant to be together. Matched by fate. Each incomplete without the other. Halves of the same whole.

Sides of the same coin.

Six

I have no doubt of your fondness for me, but, my darling Rachael, I know as well the love we shared was but a faint imitation of what you knew with Jason. I have watched you through the days of my illness grow strong as I grew weak. You have handled the details of my life, whether personal or in affairs of business, with a courage and intelligence I had not suspected. I am proud of you, my dearest wife
.

You are not the same girl I married those many years ago, and it may well be too late to find again what you once had with Jason. I can only hope there is still a chance for happiness for the two people I care for most in this world
.

It is my most fervent wish that you do not close your heart to the possibility that what once was lost may not be gone forever
.

W
ITH EVERY MINUTE
and every dance and every pleasant conversation, her tension eased. Obviously Jason wasn’t here tonight and the inevitable could be put off for yet another day. She needed at least that much time
to come to terms with everything in George’s letter. And decide what, if anything, was to be done about it.

Dear Lord, it had been three years since she’d seen Jason, but each word of their last conversation still echoed in her mind as it had every day since his visit. She’d been horrid to him and hadn’t regretted it for a moment until today. Only now did she realize he’d attempted to explain everything and she’d refused to listen to even a single word. Perhaps, if she’d allowed him to tell her…

What would have happened then?

“Lady Lyndhurst.” The voice she still heard in her dreams sounded behind her and her heart stopped. “It has been a long time.”

She turned slowly and gazed up into the dark eyes that had once held her world. She pulled a deep breath and adopted a polite, public tone that belied the rush of blood in her ears.

“My lord.” She extended her hand and marveled at its steadiness. “What a delightful surprise.”

He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across it. In spite of her gloves, a shiver shot through her at his touch. “A surprise?” His gaze met hers. “Surely you expected to see me here tonight?”

“One never knows who will or will not appear at a New Year’s ball, my lord.” His brow rose and at once she wished the words back. She knew now he was not at fault for failing to meet her so long ago. Still, it was hard to forget the years of bitterness that had started with that one night. She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held tight. “Please forgive me, I do apologize.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said simply, his
gaze boring into hers as if he wished to read her very thoughts.

“On the contrary, there is much I need to apologize for.”

“Never to me.” His lips quirked upward in the crooked smile she remembered all too well. But this was not the smile of a charming boy. A man stood before her now. His handsome face reflected the experiences of a decade and was, if possible, more attractive for it. “However, there is much to talk about.”

“Is there?” She pulled her hand free and fought back a rising sense of panic. She wasn’t at all sure she was ready to talk to him. She had no idea where to start.

“Yes.” For a long moment he studied her silently. “People are beginning to stare, you know.”

“Are they?” She swallowed hard. “I wonder why. No one knows of our past history and—”

“Rachael.” His voice was gentle. “I suspect there is a great deal of interest in this first meeting between the new earl and the dowager countess.”

“Of course,” she said, struggling to maintain her composure. “I should have realized.”

“I imagine they are all wondering if I shall throw you out into the streets.”

“How absurd.” Annoyance colored her voice. “The nature of my finances is no secret. Aside from my father’s legacy, George left the house in London to me. I shall never be homeless. The estates, of course, are yours and you’ll find everything in order, but…”

A twinkle showed in his eye.

She stared suspiciously. “Are you teasing me?”

“Indeed I am.” A slow grin spread across his face.

“Well, stop it at once.” She wanted to stamp her foot, the childish impulse a shock in itself. Hadn’t she grown out of such nonsense? Was it his presence that made her feel like the foolish child she’d once been? She heaved a sigh. “Welcome home, my lord.”

“Home?” He shook his head as if the very idea were odd. “I have not thought of it as such for a very long time.”

“Perhaps the time has come to think of it again as home.”

“Perhaps.” He stared down at her.

Had they already reached the limits of polite conversation? What on earth should she say now? He was a stranger, yet familiar and, God help her, dear. For a moment the years vanished and she was a girl again staring up into his eyes. A fierce longing swept through her and stole her breath and touched her soul.

Did he feel the same?

He bent closer and lowered his voice in an overly confidential manner. “People are most definitely staring now.”

At once she returned to the here and now and matched his teasing tone with her own. “What do you suggest we do?”

“I suggest we dance.” He offered her his arm. “I don’t believe we have ever danced together.”

“Then it is past time,” she said with a sense of gratitude. At least a dance would give her a few moments to compose herself. She placed her hand on his arm and ignored his assessing gaze. She knew full well what he was thinking: it was past time for so many things.

She allowed him to lead her to the dance floor and tried to concentrate on the cotillion, grateful it wasn’t a waltz. But whenever she glanced at him, his gaze was fixed on her in a most disconcerting manner. She moved through the steps as if in a dream. And why not? Hadn’t he often visited her dreams? At least during the dance there was no opportunity to talk, but the music drifted to a close long before she wished.

“I’m rather afraid our dance did not diminish the interest in us.” Jason glanced around the room. “Unless you would prefer to attract even more curious gazes, perhaps we should retire to a somewhat less conspicuous location.”

“Very well.” She took his arm, bracing herself against the feel of his hard muscles beneath her touch, and forced a light note to her voice. “Although we do them all a disservice. At this time of year London is bereft of many of those who routinely provide gossip for the ton. It is the duty of those of us who remain to do what we can to fuel the fires of rumor.”

“Perhaps we will do our part if they see us going into the garden—”

“No,” she said quickly, “not the garden.” She released his arm and stepped back. “This will not do at all. Not here. I can’t—”

“There is much to be resolved between us.”

“Yes, of course. I…” She drew an unsteady breath. “You must understand, until I received George’s letter, a scant few hours ago, I had no idea—”

“And it is unfair of me to expect you to discuss it tonight. Now I am the one who must apologize.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, his gaze never
leaving hers. “I shall call on you tomorrow.” He smiled and, before she could say a word, turned and crossed the ballroom, making his way through the crowd with the strong, confident stride of a man who has no question of his place in the world.

And what of her place in the world? In his world? Everything she thought she knew about Jason and George and her life had shattered with the delivery of a single letter and its shocking revelations.

And at the moment, she had no idea what those long kept secrets of the past would mean for the future.

The cold morning air stung her cheeks and she slowed her horse to a walk. It was not perhaps the most proper thing for a lady to ride unaccompanied in the park, but Rachael had learned through the years that propriety was an overrated attribute. As a married woman, and more as a window, she had a remarkable amount of freedom. Besides, it was barely past dawn and she’d seen only one or two other riders.

She’d taken to riding in the early hours during the years of George’s illness, and she relished it especially in winter when her horse’s breath blew out in white clouds and the grass crunched beneath his hooves and the cold invigorated her very spirit. It quite simply made her feel alive.

And it gave her the opportunity to think. All night she’d tossed and turned, her thoughts filled with a hundred questions about the past and the future.

Would Jason call on her this morning? Would he wait until afternoon? Was he anxious to see her in pri
vate without all of London staring at their every move?

She barely noted the sound of a horse fast approaching from behind her and absently nudged her mount to the side of the path to allow the oncoming rider to pass. What would Jason say to her? What would she say to him?

The rider pulled up on her left.

“I scarcely expected to see you here on a morning as crisp as this.”