Redeeming Jack (19 page)

Owen stuck out his lip, reminding her forcibly of his father. “Martha never comes to get me. I’m nearly five. I know to come home before it gets dark.”

Carys chose not to answer him. Her maternal fears for his safety were probably all in her head. It was unnecessary to burden Owen with them. As the sun disappeared behind a towering wall of clouds, they reached the cliff top. Martha stood in the garden of the cottage, taking down the washing.

“I found Owen,” she called to the woman. “He was just where you said he would be.”

Owen pulled out of her grasp. “Of course I was.” He smiled at Martha, ignoring his mother. “Can I get a glass of milk and some bread, please? I’m starving.”

Martha patted his arm and urged him toward the kitchen. “Of course you can. Remember to cover the milk jug and put it back in the pantry.”

Carys took the ends of the heavy sheet and smoothed out the corners, not quite meeting Martha’s shrewd gaze. She threw the wooden pegs into a wicker basket with a clatter before shaking out one of Owen’s nightshirts.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, Carys? You looked in fear of your life.”

Carys glanced at the kitchen door, where Owen’s tuneless whistling spluttered to a stop, submerged in his glass of milk. “I’ve almost convinced myself that I’m worrying over nothing. I’ll tell you what happened after Owen goes to bed.” She folded the last pillowcase and placed it in the basket. “You were right about the duchess. She didn’t pass on my letters to Jack.”

* * *

Much later, Carys kissed her son good night and went down to the kitchen, where Martha awaited her. It took her only a few minutes to describe her visit to the Llewelyns and the duke’s threats against Owen. “Should I take Owen away from here?”

“Where would you take him? Your parents would certainly not welcome such a burden.”

Carys sighed. “My parents would feel morally obliged to give Owen to the duke if he arrived on their doorstep. He has always intimidated them. I was thinking about leaving him with Gareth’s family.”

Martha pursed her lips. “If the duke was intent on capturing Owen, I seriously doubt he would neglect to check your relatives.”

“And Gareth needs the living the Llewelyns provide even more than my father does.” She sat up straight. “Should I warn Owen? He is old enough to understand when things are dangerous.”

“I’d leave the boy out of it,” Martha said firmly. “You don’t want him fearing his own shadow. We can make sure that he’s never alone. My brother would welcome him at the farm, as well.”

Carys lapsed into silence as Martha drained her teacup and got to her feet.

“Have you considered asking Lord Rice for help?”

“A week ago I would’ve said yes. Now I fear to embroil him in any more of my family’s problems.” Carys frowned. “If I owe him yet another favor, he’ll expect me to repay him by going through with our marriage.”

Martha washed out her cup and replaced it on the oak dresser with a thump. “I expect Jack might have something to say to that.”

Carys half-smiled. “I expect he might.”

After Martha’s calm goodnight, Carys sipped at the chamomile tea Martha insisted would steady her nerves. She wished Jack were here. He’d always tried to support her, even when she was afraid or weak. She knew in her heart that he would do anything to protect her.

The only time she’d seen his confidence falter was on their wedding night. At the cold, dingy inn in Gretna Green, his determination to elope with her seemed to crumble in the privacy and intimacy of the marriage bed. She’d been the one to pull off his shirt and explore his muscled flesh, to kiss his heavenly mouth and press her aching breasts against his chest.

A wave of desire flooded her, turning her body soft and pliant. She ran her finger over her bottom lip, trying to remember the taste of him. A woman could drown in the sensual pleasure of Jack’s intriguing scent.

If Jack hadn’t known Owen was his son, perhaps there was a way to sort out their tangled lives and move forward? Carys opened her eyes and stared at the blackened kitchen range. She reminded herself that her passion for Jack led to three miscarriages and Jack’s gradual disappearance from her bed and her life. Gossip had also provided him with a mistress. Was she willing to reopen the wounds she’d tried so hard to close?

When she saw him again, perhaps it was better to start by mentioning Robert and the missing money. If she felt bold enough, she might also mention the duke’s threats about Owen. The duchess had said she planned to meet with Jack in Swansea before she left for London, so it had to be soon. If Carys left in the morning, she might reach Swansea and speak to Jack herself.

More relieved by the thought of seeing Jack than she was prepared to admit, Carys finished her tea and blew out the lamps. It would be safer to shut the house and let Martha take Owen to her brother’s farm for two days. She climbed the narrow stairs, guarding the flickering flame of her candle. If she intended to leave for Swansea the next day, she needed her sleep. And if she intended to face Jack again, she definitely needed her wits around her.

“GARETH, YOU’LL BE FINE,” Jack repeated for the fourth time. “Mrs. Mansell will be delighted to put you up for another night. It’s me she’s after, not you.”

Gareth scratched his head, a haunted expression on his freckled face. “You don’t know what she’s like. The government should employ her to interrogate spies. She’s
relentless
.”

Jack shrugged into his coat whilst attempting to brush off the straw and dust from the hayloft he’d slept in. “You’ll be out all day visiting the good citizens of Oxwich village. She can’t follow you there.” He pulled on his boots and searched for his battered hat.

“Aren’t you supposed to be coming with me? Wasn’t that the whole point of this exercise?”

“I’ll join you tomorrow. I have to go back to Swansea today to meet my mother.” Jack made a face. “I was hoping to avoid her, but my newly acquired conscience will not allow it. If she truly is ill as Robert says, I would hate to leave unfinished business between us.”

Gareth’s indignant expression faded. “I agree with your brother. The duchess really is unwell. You are making a wise decision.” Gareth put on his hat. “I’ll manage without you for a day.”

Jack laid an arm across Gareth’s shoulders. “I don’t have to tell you to leave Mrs. Edwards until tomorrow, do I? No heroics, Gareth. I promised Carys I would return you safely to your wife.”

Gareth looked mutinous. “All right, I’ll behave myself.” He handed Jack his gloves and riding crop with a sigh. “Take these—you’ll need them more than I will. If you hurry, you might even make it back today. It’s less than fifteen miles.”

Jack studied the bright, cloudless sky. “I might if the weather holds. I’m as anxious to settle this business and get on with my life as you are.”

“More so, I should imagine.” Gareth nodded. “Go on then, and give your mother my best wishes.”

Mounting the horse he had borrowed from Richard, Jack headed for the main road back to Swansea. He should be there by noon. The horse moved smoothly into a canter and settled into a steady rhythm. Jack inhaled the bracing sea air as he skirted the cliffs overlooking Oxwich Bay and then turned inland.

With such a well-trained horse, Jack had plenty of time to consider how he was going to deal with his mother. The hurt she’d inflicted on him still burned like a slow fuse inside his gut. After Carys’s betrayal, his mother’s insistence that she, too, must obey the dictates of his father and ignore him had destroyed his last hope of salvation.

Jack allowed the horse to walk. But hadn’t he learned from those betrayals? He was no longer the spoiled son of a nobleman. He was a man who realized life could be cruel and that forgiveness was a major part of growing up.

He stared unseeingly over the barren landscape as a flock of seagulls swooped over his head. Could he forgive his mother? He gathered the reins and urged the horse forward. It was time to test his new sense of self and find out.

* * *

Jack didn’t have time to change after his hurried ride across the Gower. Robert was already loitering outside the Fisherman’s inn. His brother’s face lightened as he followed Jack around to the stable yard.

Robert grabbed Jack’s hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m glad you decided to come. Mama’s in the best parlor waiting for you.”

Jack took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly as nervous as a child. “Are you joining me?”

Robert backed away, an uneasy smile on his face. “Not me, old chap. I hate scenes. Last time I tried to help, I ended up causing a duel between you and Gareth.”

Jack paused on the step. “Yes, you did, didn’t you? Perhaps it is better if I go alone.”

“Thanks, Jack, and good luck.” Robert disappeared around the corner, leaving Jack to his ordeal.

Shaking the dust from his coat, Jack removed his gloves and found his way to the door of the parlor. He knocked softly on the scarred wood. A faint voice bade him enter.

His mother sat by a meager fire, her black cloak concealed her slight figure. Her shoulders were hunched to her chin. By the window, as if poised for flight, stood her long-time companion, an ancient Llewelyn cousin named Louisa.

To gain time, Jack turned and bowed to her. “Cousin Louisa, it is good to see you again.”

Louisa fluttered her fingertips at him and bobbed an awkward curtsey. Years of his mother’s gentle tyranny had reduced her to a twittering ghost.

Jack came down on one knee in front of his mother in an attempt to see her face. “Ma’am?”

The duchess raised her head and Jack fought to control his expression. He’d seen the shadow of death on too many faces during his bloody career in the army to mistake its insidious presence now. Instinctively, he reached for his mother’s hand. She didn’t pull away, but let her cold fingers lie in his. Jack was reminded of the bleached bird bones he’d found in Saint Iltyd’s church.

“Robert told me you have been ill and that father was taking you to Bath to recover.”

His mother sat back, withdrawing her hand. “That’s a fairytale. He’s taking me to Bath to die. There is very little hope I will recover.”

Jack stared into her sunken eyes and let out a breath. It was time to forgive. How had it been for her to be caught between two such strong personalities as he and his father? “There is always hope. I’ve seen men recover from horrendous injuries, and others die from a scratch.”

A faint ripple of amusement animated the duchess’ features. “Don’t lie to me, Jack. I’ve spent my life pretending to be an invalid. There’s a certain poetic justice in that for once I’ve proved to be right.”

Jack took the chair opposite, keeping his gaze on her ravaged face, drinking her beloved features in. “I’ve missed you, Mother.”

The countess snapped her fingers, and Cousin Louisa scurried forward and poured Jack a cup of tea. “Is that so? According to your interfering wife, you’ve been too busy trying to survive to worry about your family.”

“You’ve seen Carys?” Jack tried to keep his tone neutral. His wife had given him the distinct impression that she wasn’t on visiting terms with his family.

The duchess patted her narrow lips with a lace edged handkerchief. “You know how she is. She’s never respected her betters. If she’d been my daughter I would’ve taken a switch to her…”

Jack tried to restrain his impatience as his mother sipped at her tea and tucked her handkerchief away.

“Your wife had the audacity to appear at my home and demand answers from me.” The duchess’ nostrils quivered. “Her insistence on sorting out the past has become an obsession.”

Cousin Louisa poured Jack another cup of tea and disappeared into her corner before Jack could thank her.

“What did Carys wish to know?”

“What I had done with the letters she gave me.”

Jack pressed hard on the bridge of his nose. “What letters?”

“Letters for you, Jack. She begged me to pass them on after you abandoned her.” The duchess smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t want them. She’d chosen her path by refusing to leave with you and finding herself a lover.”

Jack put his cup down before he cracked it. “Did you read them?”

“Of course not! I threw them in the fire as soon as they were delivered to me.”

Jack remembered his response to the two letters Carys had managed to get through to him. He’d taken great delight in burning those unread, too. Perhaps he and his mother had something in common after all. “Did you tell Carys this?”

“There was no reason why she shouldn’t know.” She raised an eyebrow. “It was almost refreshing to be able to tell her what I did. Imminent death makes living so much easier.”

Jack studied his mother’s clenched hands. What had Carys wanted to tell him so badly that she’d trusted her worst enemy, his mother, to deliver the news? If his mother was speaking the truth and hadn’t read the letters, there was no point in questioning her. “Would you like me to come and visit you in Bath?”

Her brow creased. “Do not change the subject. I haven’t finished with the question of your wife yet.”

“I apologize, mama. I assumed you might wish to talk about other matters.” He’d forgotten his mother’s tendency to obsess over a subject.

“Your wife raised another interesting matter with me. At first I tried to dismiss it as the ramblings of a hysterical woman, but it’s been preying on my mind.”

“What has?” Jack found himself tensing. Was she finally going to apologize for abandoning him to his father’s mercy?

“Carys implied that the money I deposited in your bank account never reached you.”

Jack was beginning to feel as if he were fumbling his way through a maze blindfolded. “What money?”

The duchess made an impatient gesture. “The gold I instructed Robert to lodge in your name at Hoare’s bank. Despite your wife’s accusations, I hardly expected a son of mine to turn his hand to
trade
. I was mortified when your father told me your choice of career was the talk of the town.”

“I never received any money from you.”

She’d left him money to avoid him shaming the family. Had she done it out of love or pride or a complicated mixture of both? He doubted she’d know the answer even if he pressed her.