Eulogy's Secret (The Huntley Trilogy) (28 page)

Another dawn, but this time clear blue light filtered through the frost-crazed window. As Eulogy surfaced from a deep sleep, she sensed the change and her eyes flew open. There was Jack, stretched out beside her, all muscle and sinew, magnificent as a slumbering lion. Outside, in the stable yard filtered the unfamiliar sound of activity, doors banging and hooves crunching on snow. Her head fell back against the pillow.

“What is it my love?” a sleep drugged voice crooned in her ear.

“A noise woke me.”

Jack yawned and stretched, throwing a muscular arm above his head. “Hmmm, and I smell cooking. Bacon and fresh coffee.” His eyes flicked open. “Lord but I’m hungry.”

With a swift peck on her cheek, Jack sat up and threw back the covers. Still unused to the vision of a naked man rising from her bed, Eulogy blushed but didn’t look away, transfixed as he flexed his toned muscles in a way that sent fresh shafts of desire winging to her core.

“Breakfast, my lady?”

“If that’s all that’s to offer.”

He threw back his head and laughed with carefree abandon. “My little wanton. I can see I need to keep my strength up so, breakfast!”

 Jack was already hopping into his breeches, tugging on a shirt and reaching for his hessians. Blowing at kiss at Eulogy, he made for the door.

“Shant be long.”

Eulogy’s heart sank as the door shut behind him.

She withdrew beneath the blankets, listening resentfully to the unmistakable sounds of the inn coming to life. When the thaw came it meant only one thing, a return to London. With sudden restlessness she rose to tend the fire.

She dressed, still favoring the freedom of Jack’s spare breeches and shirt. Running her hands through her tangled hair, she wrestled it up as best she could, checking her appearance in the dull mirror of the window. Her lips felt swollen, bruised by Jack’s kisses, and she smiled contentedly.

Bearing fresh-baked bread, cheese and a flagon of ale, Jack tumbled through the door. The stench of stale beer and unwashed bodies wafted in over his shoulder, and Eulogy hastened to shut it out. Safe once more in their private den, Eulogy inhaled the mouth-watering smell of a warm yeasty loaf. It was only then she appreciated just how ravenous she was and stole a snatch of bread.

“Steady,” Jack laughed, “mind you don’t eat me by mistake.”

As she danced around, his wary expression stopped her short. His smile faded, leaving taut lines around his mouth. No longer the happy-go-lucky Jack of the past few days.

“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” Alarmed slammed through her chest. Had someone said something? Had he changed his mind about her?

“No my love, nothing’s happened.” He half smiled. “The thaw’s started, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

Putting down their feast, he pulled her against his chest, burying his chin in her hair. “Soon the roads will be open–”

“And we must return to London,” she said, finishing the sentence.

 “Well we can’t hide away forever and I’m glad we’ve had this time.” Her lip trembled. Days ago she’d decided to offer him a way out. “I won’t hold you to the proposal if you’ve changed your mind. No one need know.” There, she’d said it. Jack stiffened and pulled away.

“You won’t marry me?”

“Oh no!” she cried. “I love you enough to let you go if that’s what you want.”

His face softened, tenderness in his eyes. “My love, this is just the beginning. We shall have such a wedding, just you wait and see. All the ton invited. Only the best for you. A carriage with four white horses, a feast to rival a coronation.”

“Stop, stop!” Eulogy shook her head. “I want none of that.” She reached up to caress his face. “Just a simple ceremony and you.” Stretching up, placing her lips against his she whispered. “Besides, it will be at least a day until the London roads are passable.”

A low moan escaped the base of his throat as Jack cupped the curve of her bottom. “Best then, we don’t waste another minute.”

As the day progressed, an eerie quiet descended on a peaceful snow-capped world. Birds emerged from hidden roosts, scratching around for berries. Tracks appeared, the snow longer pristine as those who lived close by set off home. A hay cart creaked into the yard and the stabled horses snickered at the prospect of fresh feed. Each time Eulogy went to the window, she armored her heart against the thaw, bracing herself for their inevitable return to London.

 “Jack, when we get to London, promise me you’ll stay away from Devlin.”

He tensed.

“I can’t do that.” His voice was cold and shocking. She glanced at him pleadingly.

“I don’t want any misplaced squabbling over my honor.” She attempted a laugh, but it rang hollow. “It is like writing in dust, a waste of time.”

Jack’s lips formed a hard, taut line. As she gazed into his closed off eyes never had she felt so afraid. Trembling, she placed a hand against his unyielding chest.

“What Devlin did is unforgiveable. He cannot be allowed to get away with it.” He straightened his shoulders, a wall of irate masculine muscle.

“Jack, I need you to listen.”

Staring into the depths of his hazel eyes, she saw a familiar flicker. Slowly, he took both her hands and pressed a kiss on each fingertip. She must not be distracted, she had to make him understand; his life depended on it.

“Violence is not the answer.”

“It is the only language Devlin understands.”

“It is abhorrent to me! After what my mother suffered, the last thing I want is to descend to Devlin’s level. Can’t you see that?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. With tender concern he ran the pad of his thumb over her lips to hush her. “Sweetheart, that man tried to harm you, more than once and he may try again. I can’t take that risk. If he goes unchallenged, who knows what he may try next.”

Fear sat cold and hard in her stomach. “He wouldn’t dare. Not now, you know the truth.”

“That man is ruthless and unpredictable.”

“And that’s precisely why you must leave him alone.”

“The ton needs to know the truth. Do you want him to marry and make some poor woman’s life a misery?”

Eulogy whimpered. “No, of course not but not at the cost of your life. What matters is that we are together. Please, I begging you. Don’t do anything rash.”

With a terse nod Jack turned aside. “I’ll consider it.”

 The sun appeared in a cold clear sky, casting long blue shadows over the dips and ruts of a recently passed cart. Jack and Eulogy felt the change, but it was sensible, they decided, given the length of the journey, to wait and start for home the following day.

At dawn the next day, Jack and Eulogy dressed in silence.

After the easy freedom of breeches, her stays felt like a punishment. Jack tightened the laces, fastening the tiny buttons with the seriousness of a squire equipping a knight for battle.

Eulogy trembled as they made their way downstairs, recoiling at the stench of boiled cabbage and sweaty bodies. After the seclusion of the attic room, the bustle and noise of the inn was overwhelming.

Outside in the yard, Eulogy found the chestnut mare well cared for as the horse bumped her nose against Eulogy’s palm as if she were an old friend. Jack’s stallion, however, snorted and tossed his head as the lad struggled to bridle him. After days of inactivity, the horse clearly longed for a gallop. The grooms led the horses into the yard, the stallion stilled, seemingly enraptured by Eulogy’s chestnut mare.

“Clever chap.” Jack patted the stallion’s arched neck and winked. “Like his master, eh?”

Stepping onto the mounting block, Eulogy threw a final lingering look over her shoulder to the attic window. Jack’s hands spanned her waist to lift her, she shivered. It exhilarated and frightened her that his touch could do this to her body.

“Everything will be all right.” He squeezed her hand.

“I know…” She so wanted to believe him, whilst hating this new distance between them.

“And yet..?”

“I wish we could stay like this. Just you and me.”

Jack shook his head. “My love, you know that isn’t possible.”

She smiled bravely. “Of course, we must go back.’

Jack swung purposefully into the saddle. “London it is.”

Several hours later, as they neared London, the prospect of seeing her guardians, lifted Eulogy’s mood as she hoped they hadn’t been too worried by her absence. Obviously the same thought occurred to Jack because, as they clattered into the city, he escorted her straight to Red Lyon Square.

Despite the grey, sooty slush, and roads thick with gritty mud Eulogy’s heart sang, for it felt like coming home. She smiled indulgently at the stone obelisk at the center of the Square, and waved cheerily to a neighbor. The tired mare had no sooner stopped than Eulogy jumped from the saddle, and ran up freshly swept steps to Farrell’s door.

A strained looking Mrs. Featherstone answered her knocks. The housekeeper’s lips formed a perfect oval of wonder and she clapped her hands to her mouth.

“Why Miss Foster!” Joy sparked in her faded blue eyes. “Oh I’m reet glad to see yer safe.”

With a sob Eulogy flew into the older woman’s bony embrace. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Half-laughing, half-crying, Mrs. Featherstone patted her shoulder. “There, there dear. No harm done.”

“And Mr. Farrell, was he very worried?”

“Less said the better, you know what men are like, but he’ll be fine now yer home again.”

From deep within the house came an excited whoop.

“Well as I live an’ breathe if that ain’t the wanderer returned.” Farrell strode into view, his eyes shadowed but walking straight and no slur except his Irish drool. Without ceremony, he too threw his arms around her. It was several minutes, and much sniffing later, that the group broke apart. Mortified, Eulogy suddenly remembered Jack, shifting uneasily, forgotten on the doorstep behind them.

Self-consciously, she cleared her throat. “Mr. Farrell, Mrs. Featherstone…” But she needn’t have worried, as they bustled past, hands extended, murmuring warm greetings. Until this moment she hadn’t appreciated how much their approval mattered. Jack gave the housekeeper’s hand a gentlemanly kiss, clearly age was no barrier to his charms as Mrs. Featherstone blushed like a girl.

“Oh t’ank you, t’ank you so much for bringing our Eulogy safe back to us.” Farrell slapped Jack’s back. “Now cum in why don’t you? You must be thirsty after a ride in such weather.”

It was Jack’s turn to look self-conscious as he followed the jolly group inside.

Never had the kitchen seemed more welcoming as Mrs. Featherstone put the kettle on. Eulogy sat beside Jack, and to her surprise, noticed his hands shaking.

 Jack cleared his throat.” I…err…that is…I…”

Farrell grinned. “Spit it out man, I don’t bite.”

Jack grew pale. “To my regret, I previously neglected to ask your permission to take your ward as my wife. However, now I understand the depth of your bond to each other I wish to set that right and humbly request your consent to take Miss Foster as my bride.”

Farrell’s expression grew grave. “And the misunderstanding?”

“All behind us.” Eulogy chimed in.

“And tis what you wish, Mauvoreen?”

“More than anything.”

Farrell paused. “Then let it be so, with my full blessing.”

Half an hour later a very different Jack took his leave. Eulogy considered she had never seen him look as handsome as when he beamed with happiness. Mrs. Featherstone and Farrell remained chatting in the kitchen as she escorted him to the door. With a look of deep appreciation Jack took her hand and even through gloves, his touch had the power to make her light headed.

“These are good people,” he beamed, “you are fortunate indeed.”

“We all are.”

Jack leant forward to place a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. “I will return soon, hopefully with news.”

Eulogy froze. “News?” The old suspicions came flooding back. “Devlin isn’t important you promised to stay away.”

Tenderly Jack touched her cheek. “This has nothing to do with Devlin.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief. “Then what?”

“Actually, I was thinking of a special license.”

“Oh!”

“Yes, my love. The sooner we wed the better.” As his lips brushed hers and her body heated in response, she felt inclined to agree that speed was of the essence.

-oO0Oo-

Just as Huntley had suspected, in his absence, Chaucer had done a capital job of running The Gallery and neither drizzle, slush nor sooty light could dint Huntley’s good humor because in three weeks he and Eulogy were to be married. It was ironic, he reflected, that the ton had taken his fiancée to its heart, just as he discovered that he didn’t care what society thought. All that mattered was Eulogy’s happiness.