The Guise of a Gentleman (34 page)

Jared bolted up with a hand at his throat. Seized by wild terror, he gulped air in ragged gasps, vaguely surprised he could do it.

“Jared. It’s all right.”

A soothing voice pushed gently through the horror that left him shaking and cold. Soft hands touched him. Perspiration ran down his face and back. For the moment, all he could manage was to breathe.

Slender arms went around him. “You’re safe.”

Pushing back the darkness, he focused on Elise’s angelic face. Fear and despair receded. The ropes were gone; his neck was free, his arms unbound.

He touched his throat, fingering the welts and the open, raw skin and he flinched against the soreness. Swallowing brought a new wave of pain, but assured him he truly lived.

Elise’s fingers combed through his hair and caressed his face. He let her pull him into her arms and guide his head to her shoulder. Finding solace, he leaned against her. Comfort and peace drove away the terrifying memories.

“Oh, Jared,” Elise whispered. “What you must have endured.” Her arms tightened around him and she wept softly.

Jared closed his eyes, moved beyond words that someone would weep over him, and thanked God for the gift of this angel whom he clearly did not deserve. He’d never in his life felt so safe.

After a moment, she loosened her hold on him and pressed a cup to his lips. When he’d drunk a few painful swallows, she arranged the pillows before she let him lay back.

Jared could not take his eyes off her. She sat next to him on his bed, wearing a rumpled gown, her hair slipping out of its hairpins. Her leg rested against his and her eyes were soft with affection. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Tenderly, she touched his face. “Rest.”

“Stay with me?” he whispered.

She curled up next to him. “Always,” she promised.

He drifted to a place of peace for a time. He awoke with Elise in his arms. Were they still aboard his ship, and the capture by the navy, his flogging, imprisonment, and hanging, were lingering visions of a terrible nightmare?

But no, those were real memories. He lay in his old room in the family London home in Pall Mall. At least he did, indeed, hold Elise in his arms. She lay unmoving, with one arm resting on his chest, and one leg over his. Her body melted into his
, perfectly relaxed, the rhythm of her breathing told him she lay awake.

She raised up on an elbow and looked down at him. The love in her expression nearly made him break down and cry. She touched his face, her fingertips light and soft, and kissed him.

“Are you thirsty?” she asked.

At his nod, she reached to the nightstand and retrieved a glass of water. Frustrated that she saw him in such a weakened state, and fighting his natural instinct to be self-sufficient, he had no choice but to let her hold his head while he drank. A part of him he’d repressed for years enjoyed her attention. Her gentle hands soothed him.

She lay back down next to him, warm and comforting.

He nuzzled against her and whispered, “Do you wish to run off to Gretna Green, or shall I obtain a special license?”

She raised her head to look at him, a gleam in her eye. “Any special reason why we’re in a hurry to marry?”

“I don’t want to give you opportunity to change your mind. Once the adventure of these last few weeks wears off, you might decide you don’t want to marry me after all.”

“There’s no danger of that. But are you sure you can bear my quiet life?”

“My angel, as long as you and Colin are there, it will be heavenly.” He looked at her soberly. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Jared, of course I will. You’ve asked me three times, now. My answer will not change.” Her eyes danced mischievously. “And I promise to leave both my gun and my candlestick outside the bedroom.”

In the gardens behind Elise’s manor house, serenaded by the heavenly strains of a harp, Elise smiled in awe. She’d just married the irrepressible Jared Amesbury. She counted herself blessed.

Still amazed at how close she had come to losing him, she looked up at her husband of only a few hours and tightened her grip on his hand.

He glanced at her with a smile and squeezed back. Resplendent in his wedding superfine, with nary a mark from his brush with death, he laughed with his brothers Cole and Christian. The three brothers standing together made an impressive picture of masculine beauty, yet Jared stood out as if a light shone upon him. If she’d thought him handsome before, he was positively stunning now. She admired the shine of his dark hair, the breadth of his shoulders, the brilliance of his smile. Once again every inch the gentleman firmly entrenched in the world of aristocracy, he stood with the assurance of a nobleman. His usual undercurrents of watchfulness had faded.

More at ease than she’d ever seen him, he tousled Christian’s golden hair and laughed at the objection his youngest brother raised.

The wedding breakfast had been consumed yet the guests lingered, enjoying the fine company and the fine weather.

She met Jared’s gaze and he awarded her with a roguish grin. Tenderly, she smiled, hoping he saw the promise in her eyes.

Charlotte Greymore and Lily Standwich—now Mrs. Harrison—embraced her and wished her well. “I’m so happy for you, dear one,” Charlotte said.

Elise smiled. “Thank you. I never imagined I’d be so happy.”

Lily, with her arm through her husband’s, said, “Now, isn’t this better than widowhood?” Her eyes twinkled.

Elise laughed somewhat sheepishly, remembering her reaction when Lily first told of her decision to remarry. “I should never have disagreed with you, Lily.” She exchanged a loving glance with Jared, nearly melting at the tenderness in his expression.

Greymore called Jared from her side, and Cole and Christian also moved away to allow her to converse with her friends. As she stood talking, she cast longing looks at Jared standing in a circle of relatives and neighbors. He looked away from Mr. Greymore, who smiled knowingly, to meet her gaze. He sent her a look so smoldering that she felt breathless.

Grant stood apart from the others, darker and more contemplative than normal. In his immaculate superfine, no doubt thanks to Cole’s intervention, he looked respectable and more like his brothers, except for the thunderous expression he wore.

After excusing herself, she went to Grant. On the way, she snatched a glass of champagne from a tray and handed it to him. “Weddings are supposed to be happy occasions.”

He glanced at her coldly, his steely eyes making a sweep of her wedding gown as he fingered the glass she handed him. “Nice dress.”

Elise smiled. High praise from Grant.

He sipped his drink and glanced at Jared. “Seems happy enough, for the moment. See that you don’t change that.”

“Oh, yes, sir.” Her smile broadened.

His dark brows drew together and he tossed back the rest of his drink. With a low voice, he said, “Let me know if he mistreats you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep him in line. I’m a very good shot, you know.”

Something which might have passed as a smile touched his lips. He bowed slightly and strode away.

A footman approached, holding a letter. “Forgive me, madam, but this just arrived for the Honorable Christian Amesbury. The messenger said it was urgent.”

Elise glanced about until she found Christian, surrounded by a group of young ladies. “I’ll take it to him.”

As she approached Christian, she watched Jared’s youngest brother. While his ready smile flashed frequently, it never seemed to quite touch his eyes. He often looked down as if shy around women. And yet, there was something more … something guarded that reminded her of herself when she’d been protecting her heart. Had his been broken?

She shook off her musings and offered him an easy smile. “May I have a moment of your time, brother-in-law?”

“Certainly.” Christian bowed to the ladies, who made sounds of disappointment, and offered her his arm.

As Elise fell into step with him, she held out the letter. “This just arrived for you.” She stepped back to allow him the privacy to read.

He broke the seal, and after a brief perusal, looked up. “Where’s Jared?”

Dread clutched at Elise’s stomach as she searched for Jared’s beloved face. “With Cole,” she managed.

“Come. This involves you, as well.”

Elise hurried to keep up with Christian’s long strides, her heart thudding.

Please no. Please let his past stay buried.

When Christian reached Jared, he glanced about and lowered his voice. “I just got word. I made some inquiries as to the fate of your shipmates.”

Jared blinked. “You did?”

Christian shrugged. “You were worried about them.”

“I was. I … thank you.” Wonder and gratitude reflected in Jared’s eyes. “And?”

“Dubois, Anakoni and O’Brian were set free the day after your…er…” Christian winced, “hanging.”

“The day after?” Jared went still. “Then, the Admiralty didn’t wait to verify whether or not I’d been truthful about the cache on the island.”

“Apparently not,” Christian said.

Elise took Jared’s hand. She wanted to weep each time she thought of him standing with his men against impossible odds, and later, bargaining his life for theirs. “They must have perceived you are a man of honor.”

Jared took on a far-away look as if replaying his trial. “Perhaps.”

“Then they are free.” Elise, too, had worried over the fate of the pirates who’d been so kind to her.

Christian’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “They’re free. They boarded a passenger ship and left England a few days after their release.”

Cole playfully punched Christian’s shoulder. “Well done.”

Jared smirked. “Good thing there were two islands and two caches; one for the navy and one for my men.” Then he turned wistful. “I wish I could tell them I’m still … but no, Black Jack must remain dead to all who knew him.”

“All but to me,” she murmured as she snuggled against his side.

Jared put his arm around her and squeezed.

Christian’s eyes twinkled. “He’s not dead to everyone; apparently one of your mates found you out. Dubois gave this to the man I hired to make inquiries.” He held out a second note wrapped inside the first, addressed to ‘The Honorable Jared Amesbury.’

Jared broke the seal and opened it, holding it so Elise could read.

Thank you, mon ami, for your sacrifice on our behalf. I’m happy to know you managed to cheat death yet again.

We recovered the cache, and refitted and sold the Venture. Thanks to you, we will live like kings.

Dubois

P.S. Please wish Miss Elise the best of luck. She’s going to need it married to you.

Jared laughed with abandon until some of the guests turned to look. He put his arm around Elise and kissed her brow. “Indeed you will.”

Elise rested her head on his shoulder, warmth and contentment swelling her heart.

Jared drew Elise away from his brothers and wrapped both arms around her, smiling down at her with undisguised love. “You’re looking very happy, Mrs. Amesbury.”

“You are as well, Mr. Amesbury.”

“I’d be happier if we could shoo everyone away and be alone. Better yet, I’d like to take you on a long trip and keep you all to myself. For a year or two. ”

“What about Colin?”

At that moment, a laughing Colin darted through the guests, chasing one of the children.

Jared grinned. “The younglings will keep him occupied. We can send for him in a week or so.” He pulled her in and kissed her. “Mmmm. You don’t need any more kissing lessons. You’ve grown skilled quickly.”

“Surely I need many, many more lessons.”

“No more lessons. No more practice. From now on, it’s the real thing.”

She laughed and kissed him again.

Colin scampered in and threw his arms around them both. “This is even better than my birthday!” he declared rapturously.

Elise clucked over his mussed clothes and hair, and he ran off again, chasing a cousin-by-marriage.

Jared enfolded her in his arms and she melted against him. “I don’t deserve you, but I’ll do everything I can to help you overlook that painful truth.”

She smiled. “Hurry. I’ll only give you sixty or seventy years to do so.”

“That might not be long enough.”

Hardly able to contain her happiness, she nestled against him.

He kissed the top of her head, raised her chin, and kissed her long and tenderly. As he held her close, he murmured, “I love you, Elise. I promise to love you forever.”

She had no doubt he’d keep his promises. All of them.

Tarrington Castle, England, autumn 1801

Six-year-old Christian Amesbury stood in the churchyard, trying not to crush the flowers he’d brought to put in front of the family crypt where they’d laid his brother to rest, the brother he loved, the brother he killed. More alone than he’d ever been, he stood, shaking, as his last taunting words to Jason echoed in his head. He’d wanted to prove he was brave and strong. Instead, his brother, best friend, and advocate, was dead.

His throat tightened and tears blurred his vision. “I’m sorry, Jason,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I miss you.” He knelt and placed his offering of wildflowers in front of the crypt.

A drop of rain landed on his cheek and mingled with his tears. He stood, unmoving, embracing the desolation. He had no one to blame but himself. He’d never be happy again.

That horrific day three months ago had started out innocently enough, with Christian running with all his might after his older brothers, desperate to prove he wasn’t a baby who should have stayed in the house with his sisters. As usual, he couldn’t keep up as they raced to the tree but one day he’d outrun them all.

Christian’s brothers disappeared around a corner in the gardens, the shaking of shrubbery all that bespoke their passing. Drawing from some inner well of speed he didn’t know he possessed, Christian darted around the corner and skidded on loose gravel. His feet went out from underneath him and he crashed to the ground. Pain burst from his thigh and elbow. Now, he would be last. Again. But he wouldn’t quit. Blinking back hot tears of humiliation, Christian scrambled to his feet and charged down the stone path toward Zeus’s Garden. He flew headlong through the arch of roses, past statues, dodging fountains and flowers and shaped shrubbery.

His brothers’ voices led Christian to their tree. Perfect for climbing with low, strong limbs spaced as evenly as a ladder, he’d imagined it as a pirate ship or sometimes a navy ship, a castle where a dragon lived, and a deep, dark dungeon filled with ogres.

Hanging from a branch, Grant mocked Christian. “Sorry, Chrissy, you’re last. Go back home and sew and draw and play music with the girls.”

Christian stuck his chin out. “I don’t sew.”

“Rules are rules,” Jared said with a taunting smile. “Last one here has to go back and play with the twins. Maybe they’ll put bows in your pretty blond hair.”

“Aw, come on, let him stay.” Jason’s voice broke in. “Look, he fell and scraped up his leg and arm and didn’t even cry.”

“ ‘The perfectly perfect Christian’ is too perfect to cry,” Grant sneered.

Christian clamped his mouth shut as Grant taunted him with that all too familiar, sing-songy phrase that never failed to make his blood boil. He wasn’t perfect, but he did try to be good for Mama’s sake. Which was the only reason he didn’t climb up the tree and punch Grant in the face.

“Let him stay,” Jason urged again. “He’s not bothering anyone.”

Grant let out a snort. “You’re too soft on him.”

Cole, highest in the tree and holding a paper he’d rolled up into the shape of a spyglass, let out a long-suffering sigh. “You can be the cabin boy. Ahoy there!”

A ship, today.

From his perch on one of the lower tree limbs, Jason leaned down and held out a hand. “Come on up, Chris. I’ll help you.”

Christian shook his head. “I can do it by myself.”

He would prove he could climb just as well as they could—without help. He stood below the lowest limb and jumped, his fingers curling around the branch as he caught it. After swinging his legs, he hooked his ankles around the limb and hoisted himself up.

“I’ll bet you can’t reach that one,” Jared said to Cole, their voices filtering down from above like falling leaves.

“Watch me.” Cole inched away from the trunk and tucked his feet below his body. After shifting into a crouch, his legs wobbling a little, he jumped toward an upper limb, and caught it. Within moments, Cole, Grant and Jason began leaping from limb to limb like sailors climbing the rigging of a ship.

Eyeing a branch far away from the others, Christian climbed. He’d jump to that far one, and prove he was as strong and able as the big boys. He ground his teeth against the throbbing pain in his elbow and leg, and hauled himself upward.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Jason put up an arm to block Christian’s climb. 

“Up there.” He pointed to the isolated branch near the top. “I’m gonna jump to it.”

Jason looked up. “That one up there? You’re mad.”

“I’ll show you. Bet
you
can’t jump to it.”

Jason let out his breath slowly as he looked up. “That’s a long way from the other branches.”

Christian nodded. If Jason admitted he could never do it, even on a dare, and Christian did reach it, they’d see how big and brave he was. “I dare you to try.”

Jason hesitated.

“You’re too scared,” Christian taunted. “But I’m not. I can do it.”

Grant’s voice cut in. “Jason’s not scared of anything.”

A bead of perspiration trickled down the side of Jason’s face and his hand trembled as he wiped it away. He jumped. His body made a graceful arc, his legs straight, his arms reaching outward. The tip of his fingers grazed the coveted branch. And slid off.  He fell.

Christian stared in horror as down, down, down Jason’s twisting body plunged, slowly, like one of Christian’s nightmares when it becomes impossible to run even when a monster is in pursuit. Someone screamed—a terrible keening noise that rent the air. Jason landed on the ground below with a thud that tore through Christian’s body like a lightning strike. Jason lay unmoving.

All sound faded away except for the wild pounding of Christian’s heart, and that terrible, terrible scream. Christian reached the ground without knowing how he got there. Faintly aware of searing pain in his hands, he collapsed on the ground beside Jason, reaching for him but terrified to touch him. Dizzy and out of breath, he gulped in air and the screaming stopped.

“Jason?” he rasped.

Other noises, other shapes, swarmed around him in a fog of confusion, but his vision fixed on Jason’s chest struggling to rise.

Christian put his forehead on Jason’s brow and wrapped his arms around his brother. “Jason, wake up. Open your eyes.”

Jason’s breathing grew more and more labored. It made a terrible rattle, then fell silent. All motion in Jason’s chest stopped. Christian’s own heart stopped. All the world stopped.

Someone peeled Christian off Jason and shoved him away. Voices, frantic and shrill, poured in all around him but he stood alone in a sea of horror. Adults shoved past him, crowding around Jason’s motionless form. A dull roar built up in Christian’s head drowning out everything but the image of Jason lying so still. Not moving. Not breathing. Not living. Somewhere the far reaches of his mind registered the knowledge that Jason would never open his eyes, never play, never laugh.

Someone shook Christian so hard that he bit his tongue. “What happened?”

Christian pushed back the suffocating fog. “He fell.” His voice sounded far away as if someone else were talking through the other end of a hollow log. The truth wrenched out of him. “I dared him to jump. And he fell.”

The ground had rushed up then, smashed Christian in the face, and had hurled him into darkness.

Another raindrop fell, jarring Christian back to the present. A moment later, the soft ping of raindrops pelted the roof of the crypt. Wiping his tears, he turned away, and stopped up short. Grant, as silent and dark as a shadow, glowered at him from the gate of the churchyard.

Christian glanced at the family coach waiting on the side of the road. The sound of Mama’s weeping scraped against him like sandpaper on bare skin. Father’s low voice as he tried to console her burned like boiling water.

He’d done this. He’d torn apart the family. It was his fault. Mama cried constantly and some days didn’t get out of bed. Father never smiled. Since Jason’s death, Jared’s antics had grown more and more reckless until finally, during a prank, someone got hurt—not seriously, but enough to cause concern. Christian never dreamed when he’d run for help that Jared would get the beating that would lead to Jared and Cole leaving home forever. Grant never spoke to him, only shot him murderous glares that left Christian constantly looking over his shoulder, half expecting to see a knife plunging toward his back.

Christian squared his shoulders and strode with dignity he didn’t feel past gravestones and monuments. As he passed Grant at the gate, his brother spoke his first words to Christian in three months.

“I wish you were the one who had died.”