Sweet Surrender (35 page)

"I’m so glad Miss Bennett is gone," his mother muttered.

"So am I," his grandmother replied.

"How confident are you in Mr. Rafferty?  Are you sure she’ll be transported to Australia?  What if something happens and he isn’t able to get her on the ship?"

Percival bit down a gasp.

"Mr. Rafferty is incredibly competent," Beatrice said, "and he’s never failed me.  He’ll get her on the ship.  Don’t fret about it.  She’ll never bother us again."

"I wouldn’t want Jackson to ever figure out what we did to her."

"She deserved to be tricked."  Beatrice shrugged.  "How can I be blamed if the stupid fool signed a false confession?  Any result she suffers is her own fault."

"I believe Jackson might have been fond of her.  He won’t be happy if he discovers she’s been badly used by Rafferty and that we paid him for his services."

"He won’t learn of it.  Who would tattle?  You?  Me?  We’re the only ones who know, and I don’t intend to ever tell him.  Do you?"

"No."  His mother started pacing again.  "What if the servants can’t find the boy?"

"They’ll find him," Beatrice grumbled.  "There are only so many places he can hide.  Stop fussing."

"What have you heard about that orphanage where you’re sending him?"

"Just that it’s very far from Milton Abbey.  Michael Scott will disappear, so you’ll always be a countess and Percival will always be the earl.  Georgina Scott, Grace Bennett, and their dirty little secret will be buried forever.  Now
stop
fussing."

Percival shook with fury.  Michael was his brother and his friend, and Percival would never let any trouble befall him. 

They’d already worked out how their futures would unfold.  Michael would become earl, and he would do all the things that he was good at doing.  He would boss and lead and order people about.

But there were many other tasks that came with being earl.  There was money to count and papers to manage.  Percival liked to read and study and write his letters, and Michael hated those chores.

Percival would do them for Michael.  He would spend the rest of his life assisting Michael.  They would never be parted—Michael constantly said so—and Percival didn’t care what his mother or grandmother thought about it.

They could not be allowed to hurt Michael.  If they succeeded, he would end up like the elderly footman Percival had liked so much.  He would vanish, and Percival would never know where he was or how he was faring.

He sneaked out of the room and raced down the hall.

As he left, his mother asked, "Who was that?  Was someone there?"

For once, he ran like the wind, so even if she looked out, she wouldn’t notice him.

He dashed out of the house and through the garden, not slowing until he was at the fort.  Michael saw him and hurried out.

"What’s wrong?" Michael inquired.

"They’ve had Mr. Rafferty take Miss Bennett away."

"Take her!  She’s gone?"

"Yes.  They tricked her and made her sign a false confession.  And guess what?"

"What?"

"They’ve arranged to have you taken away, too."

Michael’s eyes widened with dismay.  "To where?"

"To an orphanage that’s so far away, you’ll never be able to find your way back to Milton."

"Is it in London?"

"It must be," Percival wailed.  "If they catch you, you must promise you’ll come back.  No matter what, you have to come home."

"Of course, I’ll come home," Michael vowed.  "It’s you and me together forever.  Remember?"

"Yes, I remember."

Michael stuck out his hand, and Percival clasped hold.  They proceeded with their secret handshake that only they could ever know.

"I wish Uncle Jack was here," Michael said, "so he could rescue Grace."

"What should we do in the meantime?"

"We have to help her ourselves.  Let me think on it.  We have to figure out where she is."

"Rafferty is putting her on a ship—to Australia!"

"Then she must be in London.  There’s a huge harbor there."  Michael scrutinized Percival.  "We might have to ride to town.  Could you Percival?  If Uncle Jack doesn’t return, we might have to save her."

"Yes, I could ride to town with you."

"You’d have to disobey your mother."

"I would Michael.  For you, I would do anything in the world." 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jackson rode up the long drive toward Milton Abbey, and he paused to enjoy the view. 

The house was situated on a slight hill overlooking the fields and park.  The afternoon sun cast the stone a warm peach color.  The spot appeared peaceful and serene, the sort of place where a family could be content.

Though they had property all over the kingdom, he’d passed most of his childhood at the Abbey, and it was difficult to believe it could have been so unpleasant.

His father had died when he was tiny, and he had no memories of the man.  Jackson wondered—had his father lived—how things might have been different.  Had Beatrice always been cruel and petty?  Or had he reined in her spiteful impulses?

He’d been gone for three days, pointlessly chasing after Duncan and Eleanor.  They were trailing after him at a much slower pace.  He couldn’t guess what would become of them.  They were so besotted that they weren’t worried over their plight, and Jackson had no idea what he’d tell Grace.

She’d likely kill them both, beginning with her sister who, it seemed, had orchestrated the entire debacle.  Duncan shouldn’t have abetted her, but it was too late for assigning blame.  The deed was done, their path set.

To his enormous annoyance, Jackson thought he’d probably wind up dumping money on the newlyweds.  What other option was there?

The notion of providing a single farthing to an irresponsible wastrel like Duncan was galling, but perhaps—with Eleanor as his bride—he’d mend his worst ways.  It wasn’t likely, though.  Eleanor relished his bad habits, but Jackson could always hope.

On the journey, he’d had plenty of time to ponder the future.  He’d reflected on family, on happiness, on what he wanted out of his life.

He’d been away from England for so long, and his history with Susan and Beatrice had clouded his every waking moment.  So he had to cut the tie that bound him to them.  He had to start fresh, with his prior animosities pushed aside. 

He’d let them have too much power over him, so he’d given himself permission to be free of their influence.  On seeing Duncan with Eleanor, on realizing how his friend had latched on to Eleanor and risked all for love, Jackson was intrigued beyond measure.

Because Susan had betrayed him, he’d told himself that he would never attach himself to a female again.  But then…he’d met Grace.

Over the past few weeks, he’d dallied with her, and through it all, he’d kept telling himself it was just a temporary affair of limited scope and duration.  Yet why did it have to be temporary?  Why assume they had to part?

Grace was smart and kind and loyal.  She’d persevered through hardship and adversity.  Any man in the world would be lucky to have such a woman by his side.

Why couldn’t Jackson be that lucky fellow?  Why not?  What was stopping him?

He wasn’t a nobleman as his brother had been.  He was an independent adult with his own fortune.  There was no one to command him, no one to choose who he would wed.

Why not wed Grace?

He was in love with her, and it wasn’t the silly, adolescent fervor he’d felt for Susan.  He could envision building a life with Grace, sharing every experience, growing old.  Together.

Suddenly excited to see her, he kicked his horse into a trot and hurried to the house.  His mind awhirl with plans, he leapt to the ground and raced up the steps and into the foyer.

He had to make some changes.  He’d ordered Susan to leave, but then, he’d pursued Duncan, so he presumed she was still in residence.  She and Beatrice had to go back to London.

Then he and Grace would stay at the Abbey with the boys, and he would begin the legal process of untangling the mess with Michael and Percival.

He didn’t care what Beatrice wanted.  He didn’t care what Susan thought.

Michael was Edward’s first-born son, and Percival was very likely not his son, at all.  Michael would be earl and deserved to be earl.

After the official wrangling was set in motion, he couldn’t say what he would do.  His initial choice would be to marry Grace, then sail away with her.  He’d bring the boys, and they’d travel to Egypt.  And then?  Who could predict their course?

They would spend the rest of their lives, talking and playing and being as merry as they were able to be.

The butler approached and bowed.  "Master Jack, I didn’t hear you come in."

"I just arrived."  He handed over his coat.  "Would you find my mother?  Have her meet me in the library.  Is Susan here?  Send her down, too."

"Both women are already there, sir."

"Marvelous.  I’ll kill two birds with one stone."

He marched down the hall and entered the library.  They were huddled at the desk, their heads close, and they were whispering and most likely plotting.

He should have been aggravated, should have instantly been on guard, but they had ceased to have any effect.  He wouldn’t
let
them have any effect.

Beatrice glanced up, and her expression was shocked and dismayed.  She nudged Susan who also appeared shocked, but they swiftly masked their apprehension.

"Hello, Jackson," Beatrice said.  "We didn’t know you were back."

"I just rode in."

"Please join us.  We have many matters to discuss."

"Yes, we do."

Jackson went to the desk, and Beatrice scurried out of his way without a petty argument over who should have the chair.  Apparently, she had accepted that Jackson was in charge and in control, which was a relief.  It would be easier if they stopped fighting.

"What is it?" he said.  "When I walked in, you looked positively anxious."

"You won’t believe what happened," Susan breathlessly gushed as she and Beatrice seated themselves.

"Tell me."

"Is he acquainted with Mr. Rafferty?" Susan asked Beatrice.

"No."

"Shall you explain or shall I?"

"I’ll explain," Beatrice said. 

"Who is Mr. Rafferty?" Jackson inquired.

"He’s a…detective I use occasionally."

"A detective?  Why on earth would you ever need to hire a detective?"

"Now and again, there are things I have to know that I can’t learn myself.  I found it beneficial to have someone who is more adept at uncovering secrets."

"Has he uncovered a secret for you?"

"Oh, yes.  A very big one."

Beatrice retrieved a pile of papers from a drawer and handed it to Jackson.

"This is a report I had Mr. Rafferty prepare," she advised.

"About what?"

"About Grace Bennett."

Jackson froze.  Very carefully, he laid the papers on the desk, and he sat back.  He studied Beatrice, trying to read her, but it had always been difficult.

"What about Miss Bennett?" he murmured.

"You won’t like to hear it."

"I’ll be the judge of that."

"The servants inform me that you’ve developed quite a fondness for her."

"If I have or if I haven’t, I’m not a child.  It’s none of your concern."

"It is when your attraction clouds your reasoning."

"My reasoning hasn’t been clouded, Beatrice.  Dispense with the drama and tell me what has you in such a state."

"When I was first notified of Miss Bennett’s arrival, I was extremely wary."

"I understand.  So was I."

"I had Mr. Rafferty investigate her."

"And..?"

They stared at him, actually looking pained, and finally Susan admitted, "It was all a lie, Jackson.  Her ward, her friend Georgina, Edward’s supposed marriage, it was a cleverly concocted tale, meant to win us over to her plight."

Beatrice finished with, "And earn the narrator a fat sum of cash."

Jackson scowled.  "What?"

"Miss Bennett is an experienced confidence artist," Beatrice said.  "Over the past few years, she’s tried this same scheme with two other families.  One attempt was successful, one was not."

"You’re claiming she was running some sort of…scam?"

"Yes."

"I had her investigated, too, Beatrice, and Duncan was
there
when Edward wed Georgina.  I’ll take Duncan’s word over some investigator I’ve never met."

"I don’t know what Duncan told you, so I can’t guess at his motives.  Perhaps Miss Bennett offered to pay him some of the money she hoped to embezzle from us.  He’s so bad with his finances.  Perhaps they had a deal on the side."