When Marrying a Scoundrel (26 page)

Sadie busied herself fixing cups of coffee. Jack noticed she made one for Mrs. O’Reily as well. “Well, then surely you can tell us what it says?”

The thin man turned to Jack. “My lord, this is highly irregular.”

Jack shrugged. “Mr. Walters,
nothing
about this situation is regular. Why don’t you share the will with us as Mrs. Moon suggests? I promise you, I have no plans to contest anything within it.”

The solicitor was uncomfortable, but seemed to relax a little when Sadie gave him coffee and a plate of delicious smelling sugar biscuits.

“If it makes you more comfortable, sir,” Jack suggested, “you can speak only of matters pertaining to people in this room.”

The reedy solicitor relaxed further. “As you wish, my lord.”

What followed was both surprising and, then again, not. For example, Jack wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear
that everything entitled came to him—that was simple law. He was a bit surprised, however, to hear that almost all of his grandfather’s personal wealth and possessions were his as well. The servants were left generous gifts, especially Alistair, Mr. Brown, and even more especially, Mrs. O’Reily. The woman was bequeathed a generous pension and a small house in Chelsea.

Even more surprising than this, was how Sadie held the woman as she sobbed. She shot Jack a glance that told him everything he needed to know and much he wished he didn’t. Mrs. O’Reily and his grandfather had been lovers.

Was that why she wanted the woman there? Why she wanted Jack to hear this now? Because she was willing to be his lover but not his wife? That better not be the reason, because he wasn’t going to play that sort of game. He wasn’t going to hide his feelings for Sadie and marry some poor, unsuspecting girl just because that was how things were done. Sadie was going to be his wife or nothing at all, and he had his heart set on the former.

“There’s something for you as well, Mrs. Moon,” Mr. Walters said, cheeks flushing.

This could not be good, Jack thought, watching the birdlike man shift on the sofa. Sadie felt it as well, he could tell from her sudden stillness. She patted Mrs. O’Reily on the back and then gently set the woman to the side, so she could compose herself. “What of me, Mr. Walters?”

He cleared his throat. “It says, ‘To Sadie Moon née O’Rourke, I leave the sum of fifty thousand pounds so that she might continue with her business pursuits and provide a comfortable living for herself. I bequeath this to Mrs. Moon on the proviso that she agree to have no future contact with my grandson and heir, Jack Farrington. Should Mrs. Moon violate or disagree to this clause, then the sum will be kept in trust and settled upon my grandson’s bride, provided she be of good birth and social standing.’”

Perhaps it wasn’t appropriate, but Jack burst out laughing. He glanced at Sadie, who’s mouth had fallen open. As soon as her lips closed, she too began to chuckle, and soon Mr. Walters and Mrs. O’Reily were left watching in confusion as the two of them cackled like Bedlamites.

“Is that all, Mr. Walters?” Jack asked, voice cracking as he settled himself to rights a few moments later.

The man looked at him as though he thought him completely mad. “He goes on to say that if neither provision is met the funds are to be put in trusts for your future heirs. That’s the end of it, my lord.”

“Very well. What of my grandfather’s wishes pertaining to his burial?”

Mr. Walter’s consulted another sheet of paper. “He wanted to be interred in the family crypt on his estate in County Kerry.”

Jack nodded. “Of course. If you would be so good as to leave that information with me, or share it with
my grandfather’s secretary, Mr. Brown, so he can send word ahead of me, I would appreciate it. I’ll leave for Ireland tomorrow.”

Sadie’s head jerked up. She was no longer laughing either. “So soon?”

It filled him with perverse warmth to see such alarm in her expression. She didn’t want him to go. But was that because she wished him to stay with her, or because she was afraid he might not come back?

Foolish girl. She had no idea that she was honestly stuck with him for the rest of their lives.

He nodded sharply. “I have to get him home and properly taken care of.” Really, there was no need to go into all the things that could happen to a body, and happen all the faster because it was July.

“I would be more than happy to discuss the arrangements with the late earl’s secretary,” Mr. Walters said, placing his papers back in his case. “Mr. Brown and I have known each other a great many years.”

“I’m sure you have.” Jack rose to his feet and the solicitor followed suit. “If you will come with me, I’ll see if I can find him.”

“Try the study,” Sadie suggested. “I think you’ll find him there.”

She knew more about his household than he did. What else had he missed while asleep? “Thank you,” he said, bowing slightly in her direction. “Follow me, Mr. Walters.”

The thin man followed him from the room, across
the great hall, and down the corridor toward the study. Sure enough, Mr. Brown was exactly where Sadie predicted he’d be. She did seem to have a knack for these things.

He shook the solicitor’s hand, took his card, and thanked him for his assistance. He also assured him that while he had his own counsel for business transactions, he would retain Mr. Walters’s firm for all things related to the earldom, as the company had taken care of such matters for almost fifty years. It was a similar situation to what he planned to do with Mr. Brown. He already had a man who assisted him with business matters, but Brown knew the family, and the title, not to mention all the servants in all the households. Jack had no intention of letting the man go.

Mr. Walters seemed relieved to hear that news, and was smiling as he entered the study. Perhaps he didn’t think Jack a total madman after all.

When he returned to the drawing room, he half expected to find it empty, figuring his lovely little bird of a wife had decided to take flight. Instead, he found her waiting for him, and Mrs. O’Reily was nowhere to be found.

“How’s the grieving widow?” he inquired, with more sarcasm than was polite. He meant no disrespect; it had merely been a surprise.

“Grieving, of course,” came her lilting reply. “I think she’ll be all right. How are you?”

He shrugged. “Been better. I’d be worse if you hadn’t been here to help me. Thanks.”

She shook her head. “You’d be fine, but you’re welcome.”

Awkward silence fell then, leaving them both standing there, staring at each other. All that intimacy between them earlier seemed strange now—something that made each of them feel vulnerable and unsure. He entertained bringing up the absurd clause in the old man’s will, but thought better of it. They’d had a laugh over it, but he didn’t want to put it in her mind as a valid choice.

“So,” she said, licking her lips. “You’re off to Kerry tomorrow?”

He nodded. “You could come with me.” He didn’t have to be a tea-leaf reader to know what she was going to say.

“You know I cannot do that. I have much to do in regards to my shop. Besides, people would talk.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say to hell with what people said, but it wasn’t his reputation that would suffer, it was hers. He didn’t want to do anything to cause her grief, not when he felt he’d already done so much. So much that he desperately wanted to spend the rest of his life making up to her.

“Sadie,
we
need to talk. Either we do it now or we do it when I get back, but we need to discuss our future. Together.”

“Do we have a future, do you think, Jack?” she asked, her voice tight with genuine curiosity.

“Sadie, you’re my wife.”

She took a step toward him, hand fisted anxiously in front of her. “I know what I’ve been and what I am. What
I need to know is if you want me to be your wife. After all, there’s no proof of our marriage. You could have someone else, someone better suited to the role.”

“All the proof I need is right here.” He placed his hand over his heart. “In my heart, you will always be my wife. There’s no one better suited for me than you. And even if there were, I would always think of myself as
your
husband. Do you understand?”

She nodded, mute. He knew he’d gotten through to her when he saw her lower lip tremble.

He moved toward her, hands out in supplication. “So, don’t we owe it to ourselves—to each other—to try again?”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

Did he kiss her or shake her? What would it take to make her see reason? To make her brave enough to give him—give them—a second chance. “What if it does?”

She paced a small expanse of the carpet. He could practically see the war waging in her head between the part of her that wanted to believe and the part of her that was terrified. “Perhaps I should take the money and do what the old man wanted—leave your life forever.”

He scowled at her. She wasn’t that foolish, was she? “This isn’t a melodrama, Sadie. This is our life! What we should do is what will make us both happy.”

“At the risk of both of us being ostracized from society?”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

“Your grandfather loved Mrs. O’Reily and he couldn’t bring himself to marry her. For twenty-five years that poor woman was his closest companion and she can’t even mourn him the way she ought, because that’s how this world operates.”

“I don’t care. You’re my wife. I lost you once, I won’t lose you again.”

“You may not have a choice.”

“Are you going to walk away from me, Sadie? Take your revenge for my stupidity ten years ago?”

“Of course not.”

“Good, because it won’t wash. There’s always a choice, Sadie. Ten years ago, if you’d asked me not to go, if you’d told me about the baby I wouldn’t have gone.”

“And you would have resented me for it.”

He stared at her. “Is that what you think? Christ, Sadie how could I resent you for wanting me here with you and our child? I would have crawled back to my grandfather on my hands and knees and begged him to look after you before I’d turn my back on you.”

Tears spilled from her wide eyes. “I thought you wanted to go. You had to prove yourself to your grandfather.”

“Yes, I did. But had I known the truth, had I known the consequences, not even my pride would have been worth losing you. Ten years, Sadie! We can’t get that back, and I don’t want to lose any more.”

When she didn’t say anything, he added, “I know you’re afraid, but if we don’t let go of the past, then you’re right—we don’t have a future. We can’t have one.
I want a future with you, and I don’t care about the cost, because I’ve already paid more than any man should have to. So have you.”

She wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands, sniffed and squared her shoulders. Her watery gaze locked with his, her jaw trembling. “Take your grandfather home, Jack Farrington. When you come back to me, we’ll talk.”

S
adie had plenty of time to think about the things Jack said while he was in Ireland taking care of his grandfather’s funeral and other estate-related issues. She was still thinking about him when her shop, The Tea Leaf, opened to a very successful first day.

She missed him. She wanted him here with her to see how well her business—and his investment—was paying off. She wanted to share this pride and happiness with him.

And secretly, part of her had to admit that every day he was gone was another that she wondered if he was ever going to come back. Oh, she trusted him and believed in him, but it was difficult to shuck off that old fear entirely. She was trying, though, and determined to rid herself of all doubt if it was the last thing she did.

Jack would come back to her. He always did, even if the last time he’d been rather late. There was no one left to conspire against them. The future was theirs, wide open to be anything they wanted. All Sadie had to do was conquer her prejudices and fears. All she had to do
was not give a damn what anyone said or thought. She had to accept that she would become part of that rung of society she often mocked and regarded with derision.

She had just finished a reading in the back room when the Duchess of Ryeton entered the shop with her husband, mama-in-law, friend Eve Elliott, and Lords Archer and Trystan in tow. The three gentlemen looked decidedly uncomfortable to be the only men in an establishment they no doubt had decided was strictly feminine territory.

Fortunately there was a table for them. Sadie didn’t know what she would have done if there hadn’t been room. It wasn’t good
ton
to keep a duchess waiting. But more than that, she thought fondly of Her Grace and would hate not to be able to oblige her.

These people, the Kane brothers and Her Grace especially, had been good to her—friends to her. That was humbling in the worst way, and made her see how wrong she’d been in her judgment of the aristocracy. They were not all like Jack’s grandfather—who had only been a product of his own pride. They were good people, people she considered herself fortunate to know.

And if she married Jack—again—she would be in a position to know them better.

The duchess’s face lit up when she spotted Sadie. “What a crush!” She gushed, as she took Sadie’s hands in hers. “My dear friend, this is simply astounding! How proud you must be.”

Proud? No, that was an emotion she was going to temper for the time being. “I am very pleased,” Sadie
allowed truthfully. Then she showed them to the one empty table, and since she didn’t have anyone waiting for a reading, she joined them at their request.

“Any news from Ireland?” Archer asked sometime later as he lifted a scone loaded with clotted cream and strawberry preserves to his mouth.

Sadie flushed the tiniest bit, a little embarrassed to discuss Jack in front of Miss Elliott and the dowager duchess, but neither of them seemed concerned. They watched her with the same polite curiosity as the rest of the table.

“Yesterday,” she replied. “Lord Garret hopes to return to London before the end of next week.”

“Excellent,” Trystan remarked, with obvious release. “I need him.”

The duchess slid her brother-in-law an amused glance. “I’m sure you are his primary consideration in all Lord Garret’s actions, Trystan.”

He grinned, not the least bit chastised. “I expect not, my dear sister. Perhaps secondary.” He winked at Sadie. Her cheeks warmed even further as she lifted her cup to her lips. How odd it felt to sit with them this way, to be so accepted by them. As though she’d been born to their ranks.

She liked it. And while she knew not everyone would be so accepting of her, she knew there would be those who let her in. And even if no one did, she didn’t really care. She already had enough friends—friends that made her life so very full.

“I wonder, Your Grace,” she said, turning to the
duchess, “if you would care to see the private reading room?”

The duchess looked slightly surprised. “Why, yes, I would, but only if you call me Rose as I’ve requested.”

Sadie smiled at the teasing chastisement. “Of course, Rose.”

Begging pardon from the others, the two of them rose to their feet, and carrying her cup and saucer, Sadie led the way to the small but comfortable room set aside for readings. It was decorated much like her tent at Saint’s Row, in muted shades of purple and orange that called to mind the exotic east. The air smelled faintly of tea and cloves—incense that Indara had given her as a gift. Even the lighting was soft and muted, but bright enough for Sadie to work by.

“It’s beautiful,” Rose proclaimed with an air of approval. “But, no offense, my dear. I don’t really have a need for you to read my leaves.”

“None taken,” Sadie replied with a smile as she sat down at the table and flipped her cup over on her saucer. She turned it three times counterclockwise before righting it and sliding it across the spotless cloth toward her friend. “I want you to read mine.”

Jack Farrington, former useless bastard and new Earl of Garret returned to London on a gray and drizzly day. He hadn’t written to tell Sadie of his arrival because he wanted to surprise her.

And because he hadn’t wanted to give her a chance to run off or come up with a stupid excuse as to why she
couldn’t be his wife—because, really, at this point any excuse was going to be a stupid one in his estimation.

Unfortunately, because he hadn’t told her he was coming, he also didn’t know where to find her. He checked both her shop and her house before finally having the coachman take him to Saint’s Row, where he found her having tea with Vienne La Rieux.

Damn, she looked good. The cut was the only thing prim and proper about her magenta day gown with black piping. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he suspected the touch of black was a sign of mourning for the old man, not that he deserved it.

She was a little pale, but that was undoubtedly his fault for surprising her like this.

La Rieux looked from him to Sadie and back again, like a cat watching a bouncing ball. Then, she set her cup and saucer on the low table before her and rose gracefully to her feet. “Dear me, I just remembered something I must attend to.
Excusez-moi.
”

As she passed Jack she stopped briefly. “I’m glad you’re back, now she will stop fretting about you. Also, your partner is an ass.”

Jack drew back from the vehemence in her tone when she mentioned Trystan. “I’m aware of that.”

She nodded then and carried on out the door, leaving Jack staring after her. What the hell had he missed? He turned to Sadie. “Should I even ask?”

She stood. “I don’t know, but she’s been raving about having Lord Trystan’s head, and other parts of his anatomy on a platter for the last week.”

Jack didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “And so it begins.” He could feel his gaze soften as it lingered on her. “Damn, it’s good to see you.” It felt like an eternity rather than just a few weeks since that night when he first entered this club and discovered her in that dark little room.

She flashed a bit of cheeky smile and said, “You came back.”

He smiled similarly in return. “Didn’t the leaves tell you I’d be back?”

“It’s bad luck to read your own leaves.”

“So you’ve been waiting with bated breath?” He asked it teasingly, not truly believing for a moment that she had doubted him. He’d written to her every day and knew that this time, she’d received his letters.

Her smile turned sheepish. “I got Rose—Duchess Ryeton—to read the leaves for me. She told me you’d be back soon.”

He laughed as he closed the distance between them. He laughed so much with her, and God willing it would never stop.

She met him halfway, allowing him to pull her to him in midstep, lifting her off her feet and into his embrace. He kissed her, her mouth eagerly clutching his. She tasted of tea and sugar, and of home and hope. So damn good he could weep.

No more running. No more debating and no more worrying about what society might think or if their past might come back to haunt them.

“Thank God you had the duchess to counsel you,” he
joked when he lifted his lips from hers sometime later. “Did she see anything in there about Trystan and La Rieux taking each other’s eyes out?”

She smiled. “No.”

“Archer getting called out for flapping his smart mouth at the wrong person?”

A giggle this time. “No.”

“How about the two of us living under the same roof sometime in the near future?”

She sobered enough that Jack’s heart plummeted. “About that…”

He could remind her that they were already married, but he didn’t because he wanted to hear what she had to say. “Go on.”

She eased out of his embrace, but didn’t go far. Jack sensed she needed the space and so he let her go. “I think…that is, Rose—and I—saw what we both believe to be a pregnancy in my cup.”

This was not what Jack had expected.
This
left him a little light-headed. “You? Us?”

She nodded, face strangely serious despite this wonderful news. “Jack, you should know that there’s a very good chance I cannot carry a child to full term. I would spare us both the heartache of another loss.”

Then he saw the fear and sorrow in her eyes. Christ, how he wished he could take that dark time away from her so she’d never have to feel it again. It made him feel the weight of what he was about to ask her all the more.

“But would you also deny us both the joy, if this time it’s different?”

She looked surprised, as though she hadn’t allowed herself to consider that. “Would you take that risk?”

He nodded. “I would if you think you might be willing.” Really, it was her decision. She was the one who would change physically, and would subsequently physically feel the loss if things went badly.

Sadie looked away for a moment, her hand pressed against her mouth, then she turned back to him, a glimmer of hope in her beguiling eyes. “I suppose if there’s a chance I might lose the child, there’s also a chance I might not, isn’t there?”

A smile pressed the corners of his mouth upward. “There is at that.” Then from his pocket he withdrew a small velvet box, and flipped it open with his thumb. “Everything’s going to be different this time.”

Her eyes lit up when she saw the delicate marquis emerald inside—so green and fine, no Irishman—or Irishwoman—could possibly find fault. A tiny mote of tears brimmed along her bottom lashes as she lifted her gaze to his.

“What do you say, Sadiemoon, will you marry me? Again?”

She stood there, a smile as bright as the sun on her face as tears trickled down her cheeks. “I think I might have to say yes.”

This time Jack’s heart felt as though it had been tossed into the air and given wings. He picked her up with an arm around her waist and swung her around in sheer joy.

“I love you. Always have, always will. Did your leaves tell you that?”

“No,” she replied, a tear slipping down her cheek. “They didn’t.”

“So perhaps they don’t know everything?” He was teasing, of course. He’d managed to come to terms with Sadie’s talent for fortune-telling, and comfortably shelved it amongst the things he couldn’t define but, regardless, believed in—like God and love and second chances.

“Perhaps not. I suppose that’s why I have you.” Her tone was equally light, and perhaps a touch sarcastic? “I love you, Jack Friday.”

He grinned, cheeky bastard that he was. “I know.” And then he kissed her.