The Jacobite's Return (The Georgian Rebel Series) (15 page)

“Trust me, sweetheart, I have no intention of being harmed or, for that matter, of becoming a fugitive again. I merely have one or two things I wish to discuss with your husband.”

He remained on the drive, watching them as they walked away, his expression grim and set. Rosie looked back in time to see him turn and go into the house.

* * *

“Gone?” Tom frowned in disbelief. “How could he be gone? That shot I put through his arm should have well and truly clipped his wings.”

“Nevertheless, by the time I returned to the parlour, Sheridan had vanished.” Divesting himself of his cloak, Jack threw himself down onto a sofa near the fire and stretched his legs in front of him. Dawn had begun making lighter inroads into the darkness of the sky when he finally returned to Delacourt Grange. It had been a long night. Every muscle ached with weariness. “I have searched the old dower house twice over. Believe me, he is not there. I also took the stable lads out, and we spent the remainder of the night checking the grounds as best we could in the darkness. We found no trace of him.”

“Hell and damnation!”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

“The man’s mind is unhinged, Lord Jack.” Tom’s expression was sombre. “I hope you know I would have moved heaven and earth to prevent the marriage had I known of his mental state.”

“From what Rosie has said, no-one knew of it. There seems to have been a recent decline triggered by the stress and worry of his debts. I know you have the family’s best interests at heart.”

Tom’s frown deepened. “What we saw… That was not the behaviour of a rational man. Can he return to normality from the depths of such mania, do you think?”

Jack sighed. “I’m no expert, but what little I do know tells me that those who suffer from disorders of the mind can consider themselves to be quite well. In which case, Sheridan will be convinced that he is behaving rationally while everyone else is at fault. He will believe himself to have been most unfairly treated, even persecuted.”

“Could he have fled, never to return?”

“Don’t get your hopes too high, Tom. I think it more likely he will be back to seek revenge. His rage appears to be focussed on Rosie.” Jack sat up a little straighter. “How is she?”

“I sent one of the stable boys into Matlock, and he brought the doctor back with him. Although her wrist is broken, he believes it will set with no lasting damage. The head injury is a nasty cut, but her skull is not broken. She’ll be sore for a while but nothing permanent. Thank the Lord.”

Jack nodded. He had no words to explain the storm of feelings that had raged through him when he arrived at the window of the old dower house and saw Clive attacking Rosie. It felt like his stomach was being wrenched from his body by a giant hand, turned inside out and then thrust into his throat to obstruct his breathing. For a man who had looked danger in the eye a hundred times, it was the first occasion on which Jack had ever truly known fear.

“And the child?”
My son
. He knew it now with absolute certainty. Even if he had not heard Sheridan’s words about Rosie sleeping alone each night since they married, the suspicions he had nurtured for some time were confirmed when he looked into Xander’s eyes. They were a mirror of his own. There was nothing of Sheridan in the child’s fine-featured face. He and Rosie would need to have a lengthy conversation about that fact when she was stronger.

“Unscathed. Thanks to Harry. Sheridan quarrelled with Violet and turned her off. The girl is devoted to Xander and Rosie, and when she realised they were to stay at the old dower house instead of here at Delacourt Grange, she smelled a rat. She questioned Sheridan’s motives, at which point he lost his temper and dismissed her. It did not occur to him that Xander would need food, milk or attendance to his basic needs. ’Tis a fortunate chance that Harry followed and was able to act as a substitute nursemaid.”

“How
did
Harry come to follow them?”

“Harry told me that Beau woke him. The dog was restless and refused to settle, going back and forth to the door and whining. Harry knew there was something very wrong by Beau’s behaviour, so he got out of bed and peeked out to see if he could discover what was troubling him. He saw Sheridan going into Xander’s room. Knowing that Rosie didn’t trust the man alone with her son, Harry threw on some clothes and went to see if he could discover what was going on. He was able to hide in a darkened alcove as Sheridan passed him with the sleeping child in his arms.” Tom’s lips tightened in disgust. “When he entered Xander’s room, he discovered Sheridan’s note and was able to guess his intention. He added a brief note of his own for Rosie and left it in his own room when he set off in pursuit.”

Jack laughed. “Such resourcefulness. That lad will fulfil his ambition to lead a regiment one day, I swear. How did he manage to get here?”

“He was able to follow Sheridan’s carriage on foot through the streets of London because of the slow pace. Once he saw the direction it was taking and he knew Sheridan was headed north, he guessed—as we did—that Derbyshire was his destination. He hitched a ride with a young gentleman who was driving a sporting vehicle. Luckily, he was travelling even faster than Sheridan. He was able to take Harry as far as Matlock and Harry made his way on foot across the fields from there.”

“Yet he didn’t fall into the same trap we did and think Sheridan would go to Sheridan Hall?” Although he was bone tired, Jack was fascinated by the story of Harry’s resourcefulness.

“No, he came here first. Before he entered this house, however, Beau led him straight to the old dower house.”

“We are all indebted to that dog this night. Don’t tell me the young rascal confronted Sheridan?” Jack asked with a touch of incredulity.

Tom nodded. “You have to admire the lad’s courage. Sheridan overpowered him, as you would expect. He then locked both Harry and Beau in the cellar. Harry persuaded him that he could help him look after Xander, and by that time it seems Sheridan was desperate to know how to care for the child. So he allowed Harry to leave the cellar every few hours to look after Xander. Although he kept asking for his mother, Harry doesn’t think the child was particularly traumatised by the experience and was quite content once he saw his uncle and Beau.” Tom shook his head. “Of course, the one who is suffering the most severe anguish now is Harry himself. He loves that dog.”

“I’ve heard tales of canine bravery, but I’d not have believed tonight’s events had I not seen it with my own eyes. To think I owe my life to a hound.” Jack could hear the disbelief in his words. “I take it the dog will live?”

“Oh, aye. ’Tis a flesh wound only, the bullet passed straight through his haunch. Harry is already planning how to spoil him royally for his heroism.”

“Even so, I don’t like our chances of keeping Harry’s hands from Sheridan’s throat if they meet again. That brings me back to our most pressing problem. We have to make this place secure, Tom. For it is my prediction Sheridan will come here in search of Rosie. We need to be prepared for him.”

Jack’s knew his mouth was set in grim lines. When Rosie spoke of Sheridan’s mental disorder, he had seen fear in her eyes, but something more as well. There had been sympathy for the man who had subjected her to the devil knew what during their marriage. Despite his understanding of the man’s illness, Jack would not allow compassion to overrule his judgement. Sheridan must never be allowed to get his hands on Rosie again. Jack had followed his allegiance to Bonnie Prince Charlie, and left her that day and gone to fight at Culloden. His duty to his prince had placed Rosie—alone and carrying Jack’s child—in Sheridan’s power. He still did not know what had compelled her to marry Sheridan—the worst of all possible choices. All he knew for sure was he had failed her then. He would not do so again. It was a solemn vow. One he made to himself this time.

Chapter Thirteen

When she woke the next day, Rosie was conscious that every muscle in her body seemed to be on fire, while the persistent ache in her head made her feel slightly nauseous each time she moved. The feelings contrasted oddly with the well-being that enveloped her when she realised that she was in her childhood bedchamber at Delacourt Grange. Even more profoundly satisfying was the memory that Xander was tucked up safe and well in the adjoining dressing room. He had been cared for well by Violet up until her dismissal the previous day and, because Delacourt Grange was his second home, all of his feeding, clothing and changing needs could be met here.

It took a moment or two to recognise another cause for contentment. Despite the discomfort it caused her to move her head, she turned to examine the face on the pillow beside hers. Jack was fully dressed, awake and watching her, his expression unfathomable.

“How long have you been here?”

“An hour or two, no more.”

“Have you slept?” He shook his head, reaching out a hand to gently cradle her uninjured cheek. “What happened between you and Clive? Tell me you have not killed him, Jack.”

“I have not. He was gone when I returned.”

“Oh.” Rosie frowned as she assimilated the implications of that news. “I think he will be back.”

“So do I. That’s why I’ll be staying close beside you until he’s found.”

She indulged in a moment of weakness. “That sounds nice.” Something flared in the depths of his eyes. Something both wonderful and dangerous. “Did Martha and Fraser know you were alive before the king pardoned you?”

Jack blinked in surprise at the abrupt change of subject. “I was injured at Culloden, left unconscious, thought dead by the redcoat who struck me a blow with his sword. Cumberland gave the order that there was to be no quarter for the Jacobites. That meant his men were to kill the wounded and dying and to shoot any who tried to flee or surrender.”

Rosie nodded reminiscently. The horror of that day was imprinted on her memory. “I remember Auld Rab came to tell Martha of it as we stood on the battlements at Lachlan and waited for news. No-one could believe that a soldier would treat his enemies in such a foul manner.”

“Cumberland may call himself a soldier, but he has no understanding of the code of honour of a true general. On our own side, the Jacobites were heroes led by fools. Our brave men were half-starved, exhausted and ill equipped. We never stood a chance on that stinking moor. But what no-one, including Cumberland, knew was that the Falcon was at work that day with a gang of his men. I was one of the fortunate ones rescued from the field and taken to France.”

“If only I had known.” Rosie’s voice caught, and she battled to get it back under control. “I was there all the while, so close by, yet they came to me and told me you were dead.”

“I was so close to death I might as well have been placed straight into my shroud, or so the French nuns who nursed me told me later. I remained unconscious throughout the crossing to France, and I knew not who I was or how I came to be there. Even the Falcon, who I have known since my childhood, was a stranger to me for many weeks. He believes it was my loss of memory that saved my life.” Jack’s lips twisted into a bitter smile.

“How could that be?”

“His theory is that, had I been in possession of my memory at that time, nothing would have kept me from you. I’d have returned to England to seek you out, been captured and, as one of the highest-ranking rebels, been executed on Tower Hill for treason.” His smile, as he gazed into her eyes, made her heart give a little jump, despite her warnings to it to behave itself. “He was right, God rot him. He usually is.”

“Then I must be glad you lost your memory, even though what followed ripped our hopes and dreams apart.”

“Ah, those dreams. They were wonderful while they lasted, were they not, Rosie?”

Tears glistened briefly in her eyes before she resolutely blinked them away. This conversational territory was too dangerous, her heart could not bear to go there. “They were.” She surprised herself with the calm tone she was able to adopt.

For a moment, Jack studied her face. Then he continued the tale of his exile. “When I regained my strength, I could not bear to kick my heels in a French nunnery and hear of the atrocities Cumberland was wreaking upon the highlands. The Falcon was fighting back in his own inimitable way, and I insisted upon joining him. We waged our irregular war on the English troops, haranguing them and blighting their attempts to damage the highland way of life. The Falcon was also assisted by Fraser, although he had no inkling that I was still alive until we rode together for the first time. We were on a night-time raid to rescue a party of clansmen who were destined for deportation. He was stunned to realise who his companion was.”

“And Fraser, of course, told Martha.”

“He could not have kept such a secret from his wife. They decided not to tell you. I had to remain ‘dead’ or face my trial for treason. You were already married to Sheridan. What good would it have done to tell you?”

“So I learned you were alive when I saw you again at Her Grace of Rotherham’s ball.”

Jack’s eyes told her that he could read the memory of her feelings in her expression. His voice was soft. “My poor Rosie.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. When she opened them, she raised them to Jack’s face. “It broke me in two. I have never known such a storm of conflicting emotions. First came the joy that you were alive, but hard on its heels there was the heartbreak of losing you all over again.”

Emotion blazed in the blue depths of his own eyes. “Rosie…”

Rosie immediately feared she had said too much. The strain of the last few days had been so great. In spite of everything Jack had done for her, she still could not bring herself to tell him the truth. Why was that? Had she become so conditioned to fearing Clive that, even away from him, she could not contemplate defiance? Her mind froze at the prospect of confiding in Jack.
Clive has trained me to keep this secret hidden inside me. Can I break free of the invisible chains he has placed about me?

Before Jack could say any more, a soft cry from a few feet away reached their ears.

“It is Xander.” Rosie did her best to keep her relief at the interruption out of her voice. “He always wakes hungry.”

“Let me fetch him to you.” Jack waited a moment for her permission and, when she nodded, left the room. He returned a minute or two later with a squirming Xander clasped firmly in his arms.

“Mama.” Xander held his arms out to Rosie while casting a reproachful look in Jack’s direction.

“He seemed to feel he was being kidnapped all over again,” Jack explained as he handed him over to Rosie. “He is a very beautiful child.”

“Yes, he is.” What was the point of continuing to pretend? Her smile was shy as she looked up at him. “He takes after his father in both his looks and his capacity for mischief. I think it is high time you were formally introduced to your son, Jack.”

* * *

Jack remained deep in contemplation for some time after he left Rosie alone with Xander. What was it that had brought the shutters down so swiftly to disguise the emotion within those beautiful grey eyes? It wasn’t Xander’s cry that had changed the atmosphere between them, that was for sure. She must have known he had been about to tell her he still loved her.
Because, God help me, I do. And she loves me.
Now that the barrier of her society manners was gone, he knew it with a fierceness that was beyond certainty.
So what is it that prevents her from admitting it? What is this hold that Sheridan still has over her?

He had convinced himself that the fortress she had built up around her heart must be because of the secret surrounding Xander’s parentage. But Rosie had been open about that, making no attempt to hide the fact Jack was indeed the father of her son.
How could she do otherwise? Apart from his dark curls, the little imp is my image in miniature.
The thought brought an unexpectedly proud smile to Jack’s lips. Something good had come out of the heartache of the last two years, after all.

Could her continuing reserve be about Louisa? What was it Rosie had said? He frowned in an effort to remember. Something about keeping himself entertained in Louisa’s bed. He supposed it was his own fault if Rosie
was
jealous. He had been making a very determined effort in London to try and move on. But after the night they had spent together at the inn, Rosie couldn’t seriously believe there was any other woman for him but her. Could she?

So whatever it was that held her back must still be to do with Sheridan. Well, it was up to Jack to discover the truth and show Rosie there was no obstacle they couldn’t get over together. Because he was determined. They were going to be together.

He was roused from his reverie by the sound of carriage wheels on the drive, and he looked up with a frown. It could not be the person he had sent for. The message he had dispatched before he left London would certainly have reached its destination, but the recipient was most unlikely to roll up to the front door in a carriage. Strolling outside, he was greeted by the sight of a grand travelling vehicle piled high with luggage. He watched with interest as a footman let the steps down and Lady Harpenden alighted.

“You know how much I detest travelling, Cordelia.” She spoke over her shoulder, and it was clear she was not in the best of moods. “I hope that this particular journey will not prove to be a waste of my valuable time, particularly as I have cancelled invitations to a prestigious ball, a card party and a trip to the theatre. If these sacrifices have been made for the sake of a wild goose chase, I will be forced to take you sternly to task over the matter.”

Lady Drummond’s hands fluttered in a helpless gesture as she descended from the carriage in her sister’s wake. “Indeed, Alberta, I hope you know I would not cut up your peace for all the world. But when our nephew, his wife, their child, her brother and his dog all appear to have vanished into thin air without a trace in the space of one day… Well, even you must admit ’tis a most irregular circumstance.”

“Vanished?” Lady Harpenden turned so abruptly that her sister took a step back and looked around her as though seeking a means of escape. “Must you be so melodramatic? I hope you did not partake of the sherry at that dreadful inn where we were forced to spend the night?”

Lady Drummond buried her face in her hands. “How can you ask me such a thing, when you must recall that fortified wines bring on my most alarming spasms?”

Jack, judging it to be time to put an end to this sisterly exchange, strolled forward to greet the arrivals. It was an action that provoked an extreme reaction from both guests. Lady Drummond forgot her woes and appeared to have been fixed to the spot. Her sister raised a long-handled lorgnette to her eye and regarded Jack through its lens as though he was a particularly distasteful specimen.

“I must confess my surprise, Lord St. Anton. You are the last person I had expected to find here at the childhood home of my nephew’s
wife
.” The emphasis on the last word was deliberate and pronounced.

“The reason for my presence will become clear once you have seen Lady Sheridan.” Jack bowed and gestured for the two ladies to enter the house in front of him. “I am sure she will be cast into transports of delight to have the pleasure of your company.”

His sarcasm earned him a look of intense dislike from Lady Harpenden as she stepped across the threshold. Her ladyship was a commanding presence at any time, and Mrs. Glover, caught in the act of berating a housemaid for not polishing the front door knocker properly, was more than a little overawed by her hauteur. Bobbing a nervous curtsy, she invited the two ladies into the drawing room and said she would inform Lady Sheridan of their arrival. Lady Harpenden thanked her with benevolent hauteur and went to gaze out of the window at the immaculately tended gardens.

“Well, what a delightful room.” Lady Drummond untied the ribbons of her bonnet and cast it aside before taking a seat on a sofa. “Such a pleasant aspect with the morning sun entering the windows as it does.”

“Pray do not waste time on small talk, Cordelia. Lord St. Anton must know we have not travelled all this way for a social call.” She turned to face Jack. “Where is my nephew, my lord?”

Jack smiled. “That is the burning question of the day,” he informed her. “And one which, I am afraid, I am not able to answer.”

Her frown deepened, but before she could embark on one of her scathing putdowns, a sound behind her made her swing around. For possibly the first time in her life, Lady Harpenden was bereft of speech.

Rosie appeared in the doorway, leaning on Harry’s arm, and Lady Drummond was so shocked at her appearance that she let out a most ungenteel exclamation. One side of Rosie’s face was black and blue, her right cheek swollen and marred by a cut caused by Clive’s ring. Her left arm was in a sling. The dark shadows under her eyes were emphasised by her pallid complexion and vied with her bruises for depth of colour. Her short curls refused to be restrained, and they clustered like a halo about her head, accentuating her fragility. Her eyes went straight to Jack’s face as if seeking reassurance, and his features automatically softened into a smile.

“My dear child, what on earth has happened to you?” Even as she asked the question, it was apparent that the horrible, sickening realisation of exactly what
had
happened to Rosie was dawning on Lady Harpenden.

“No. Oh, please, tell me it is not so.” Lady Drummond raised a shaking hand to cover her lips.

Rosie did not really need Harry’s support, but her brother had become quite alarmingly attentive, and she did not want to offend him. As it was, he was glaring at their visitors in a most unwelcoming manner.

“Your nephew did this to her!” Harry burst out before Rosie could speak. “And he shot my dog. He tried to kill Beau, although his intended victim was Jack.”

Mumbling an apology to Rosie, Harry threw himself out of the room. Rosie took a seat next to Lady Drummond. Lady Harpenden took a chair opposite, her features rigid.