The Shocking Secret of a Guest at the Wedding (Millworth Manor) (5 page)

“Not really coming back,” Father said pleasantly, “as I was never actually in the grave.”

“Basil wants to take Jackson back with him to England. To meet the rest of his family,” Mother said.

“Jackson’s family,” his father said firmly.

Mother ignored him. “Basil’s brother is an earl and Jackson will one day inherit the title.”

Daniel stared at her. “And?”

“And . . .” Mother chose her words with care. “If he leaves he might never come home.” A pleading note rang in her voice and she moved closer to Daniel. “Don’t you see, we could lose him entirely.”

Daniel studied her for a moment, then turned his attention to Jack. “What are you going to do, Jack?”

Jack stared at the other man. Daniel hadn’t called him Jack since he was a little boy. His heart twisted for the man who had been just as badly treated by his mother as he and his father.

Jack shook his head. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“It’s a big decision.” Daniel nodded thoughtfully. “If you want my advice, I think you should go.”

Mother gasped. “Daniel!”

“You’ve always wanted to travel, this is your chance.” Daniel favored him with a half-hearted smile. “And you’ve always wanted a father. This is your chance for that, too.”

“I think it would be a mistake for you not to go, Jackson.” Lucy met his gaze directly. “You’ve always done exactly what was expected of you. This would be, oh, an adventure I think and you should seize it. Go against everything you’ve always done. Why, you don’t have an impulsive bone in your body. You’re steadfast and reliable and not at all the type of man prone to adventure.”

“Thank you?” Jack said.

She waved off his words. “You know what I mean. You’re responsible and sensible. You don’t take risks. You don’t head off into the unknown—”

“Good Lord, Lucinda, it’s only England,” Grandfather said. “He’s not going off to explore deepest, darkest Africa. England is quite civilized. And I am sorry, Elizabeth, but this is his decision. The bank will be here when he returns.” He met his grandson’s gaze. “No regrets, Jackson, but I do apologize, for whatever it’s worth.”

Jack nodded. “Thank you.”

“Well?” Mother’s eyes held a mixture of fear and hope. “Are you going with him or not?”

Jack stared at his mother for a long moment. No matter what she had done, no matter how many poor choices she had made, she was still his mother. He didn’t doubt that she wanted what was best for him. He had never gone against her wishes before.

If someone had asked Jack last week or yesterday or even an hour ago if he had so much as a single rebellious bone in his body, he would have laughed in a wry manner and said no. His gaze shifted from one expectant face to the next. He had known all but one of them for most of his life. In that moment Jackson Quincy Graham Channing realized while he had no particular desire to be an English lord, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to be a New York banker either. At that moment he realized what he really truly wanted in life . . .

Was to escape.

Eight days later, October 1887,
Millworth Manor,
the country estate of the
Earl and Countess of Briston . . .

 

 

 

Jack resisted the ridiculous urge to hide behind one of the potted palms clustered decoratively around the perimeter of the grand Millworth Manor ballroom.

That he was ill at ease in a social setting was a new experience. He wasn’t used to feeling both somewhat invisible and altogether conspicuous. But then what hadn’t been a new experience in the last week?

His gaze drifted over the wedding guests now enjoying the wedding ball and lingered on a lovely, tall, red-haired woman who seemed to be in charge. A friend of the family no doubt. One he would probably meet at some point. If his father ever returned.

He sipped his champagne and considered the odd twist his life had taken since the moment he had stepped into his grandfather’s library and met his father.
His father.
He was still trying to get used to the idea although nearly a week onboard ship together helped. He had learned a great deal about Colonel Basil Channing, about his family and his years spent in the army and the adventurous life he had lived since. Jack suspected there were few spots on the globe his father hadn’t visited. He had been on safari in Africa, traveled down the Amazon, seen for himself China’s Great Wall and the ancient temples of Angkor. He had hunted for treasure in the West Indies and the deserts of Egypt and narrowly escaped headhunters on the islands of Polynesia.

They had forged a rapport during their voyage that was part friendship, part father and son. With each day in his father’s company, Jack liked him more and more. Trusted him more and more. Onboard ship, his father had delighted in introducing Jack as his son and always with a note of pride in his voice. As odd as it was to now be someone’s son, there was something about publicly acknowledging their relationship that struck Jack as right, as it should be. As it always should have been. And if, when the conversation turned to family and home, there was a touch of wistfulness in the older man’s voice, Jack diplomatically ignored it. But that too served to strengthen the growing bond between them.

And his father called him Jack, which was as natural,
as right,
as everything else.

Once they arrived in England, his father was as apprehensive as his son. They agreed the colonel should find just the right moment to present his newfound offspring to the rest of the family. Jack had stayed at an inn in a nearby village last night while his father went on to Millworth Manor.

He had joined his father at the family’s ancestral home a few minutes before the late afternoon wedding. Father had decided, given the chaos at Millworth upon his arrival, to wait until after the wedding to reveal Jack’s existence to the family. While the colonel assured Jack of his welcome, it was obvious he didn’t entirely believe his own words. Jack was more than willing to take a seat in the back of the manor’s chapel for the ceremony while the colonel joined the rest of the family in the front.

Perhaps she was a member of the family? Jack’s gaze again settled on the red-haired beauty, drawn back as if of its own accord. Not that it mattered what her connection to his family was. He had Lucy to consider after all even if she had essentially broken things off with him before he left New York.

Lucy had said, as they were not officially engaged and he might well be starting a new life, and, as there would be an ocean between them, he shouldn’t for a moment consider himself under any obligation to her while he was away. She said he should regard himself as completely unencumbered. Besides, she had pointed out, this was the opportunity for both of them to discover if they were really meant to be more than good friends or if they had just assumed they were meant for each other to please their families. Why, when one thought about it, wasn’t it significant that they had both put off announcing their engagement over and over again? And really, wouldn’t it be dreadful if they married and then later discovered it was a mistake? He had objected, of course, but she had been adamant and, in the end, he had reluctantly agreed with her. He had discussed the matter during the voyage with his father who agreed that women, as a rule, were incomprehensible. His father had also noted that it was his experience that women who gave a man his freedom often did so because they wanted freedom themselves. Jack had scoffed at the time, this was Lucy they were talking about after all, but a few days later he found himself wondering why it was so easy for them to part. Why neither of them had declared their love for the other. And why that now bothered him even though there was also a distinct sense of relief. Which bothered him as well.

He took another sip of his wine and watched the redhead move from one group of guests to the next. There were a surprising number of Americans present. His father had explained that the groom, Grayson Elliott, had spent nearly a decade in America. Jack didn’t realize until he saw the man at the altar that they’d met but were no more than acquaintances. There were other Americans here too that Jack had met in the course of business although no one he knew more than casually. He thought it best to avoid them for now given that he wasn’t at all sure how to explain his presence.

He and his father had avoided the other guests after the ceremony as well. Instead of joining family and friends for an early supper in advance of the wedding ball, the colonel had escorted his son on a tour of Millworth’s extensive and impressive grounds. His father took him to the pond where he and his brother had skated in the winter and learned to swim in the summer, in spite of governesses who had forbidden them to go near the water. Father showed him the Grecian-style folly that was built by a long-ago owner of Millworth for his wife and told him the story of the star-crossed lovers that were said to haunt not only this folly but one exactly like it on the grounds of a nearby estate. It was foolish, of course, no sensible man believed in spirits. But it was also poignant and romantic and touching, even if one was a sensible man who did not believe in such nonsense.

And everywhere they went, everything they saw, brought to mind a memory for his father. He told Jack stories about his brother and his brother’s children, the girls who had grown up here. He talked about those long-gone generations of Channings who had made Millworth their home and spoke of heritage and history. But with everything his father told him, everything they talked about, the one thing his father didn’t say was the one thing that hung unspoken in the air between them:
One day all this will be yours.

Jack still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. If he wanted to be the next earl, wanted everything that went along with it, or not. And even if by virtue of blood he was half English, in mind and spirit he was firmly American. Still, there was no need to make a decision about his future yet. His father had recommended he take one step at a time and Jack had to meet his new family first. His father was even now breaking the news of his existence to them.

The red-haired woman laughed at something said to her and even at a distance it sounded delightful and genuine.

Onboard ship his father had said there was nothing that made a man feel more optimistic about life than a dance and a flirtation with a beautiful woman. Jack could use a bit of optimism at the moment. He hadn’t felt this ill at ease in a social setting since his first ball more than a decade ago. Even now he remembered the discomfort of the stiff, starched collar of his formal attire. The collar he wore now was every bit as annoying as the first but he no longer noticed. Odd how one grew accustomed to even the most uncomfortable things with time and age and experience. Although he suspected he would never grow used to feeling out of place.

Well, enough of that nonsense. It was only nerves. He had no real reason to feel anything other than completely confident. Jack studied the redhead and adjusted the onyx studs at his cuffs. He was, after all, a successful banker with an exceptional heritage on both sides of his family. Granted, his family connections were far more complicated than they had been a month ago but the circumstances of one’s life changed and one needed to be able to change with them.

He started toward the woman who had caught his eye. Besides, he was an excellent dancer.

 

 

Lady Theodosia Winslow resisted the urge to allow the pride and elation that comes from the satisfaction of a job expertly accomplished to show on her face. It wouldn’t be at all proper to smirk.

Teddy stood off to one side of the ballroom and surveyed the ball, the final festivity of the day. Oh certainly, the wedding of Camille, Lady Lydingham, and Grayson Elliott was not entirely perfect but then what wedding was not without its moments of disorder and impending disaster? All of which had been skillfully averted, avoided, or circumvented by Teddy’s capable hands. Not that it was particularly easy as Camille had alternated between fits of temper, overwhelming apprehension, and the firm belief that her wedding would be nothing short of a catastrophe.

It wasn’t of course. And those moments of
imperfection
that did occur were vanquished as if by magic the moment Camille walked down the aisle on the arm of her father to marry the love of her life.

At this point, the hardest part was over. Teddy studied the gathering with a practiced eye. The ceremony was completed, dinner had been served without incident, and now Camille and Grayson’s family and friends could simply celebrate with the happy couple although admittedly she wasn’t quite sure exactly where the happy couple was at the moment. Not that it really mattered.

Guests were now enjoying the twelve-piece chamber orchestra Teddy had first employed last year for the Christmas Eve ball given by the Duchess of Roxborough. Yet another successful event coordinated and planned by Lady Theodosia and her mother, the Countess of Sallwick.

A good portion of those present tonight were on the dance floor just as Teddy had intended. There would be no wallflowers at this ball if she could help it. She had pointedly mentioned to several of the unmarried gentlemen in attendance that it never hurt to exert their charm toward those young ladies who had not been asked to dance. After all, one never knew if a less than extraordinary face hid a fine mind and a wicked sense of the absurd. She also subtly reminded them that heiresses did not wear signs indicating them as such. Not that nearly everyone here, with the exception of the Americans, didn’t know, or know of, everyone here. Still, family circumstances changed with an unexpected and alarming frequency. Teddy’s own life was a prime example.

She had also had a private word with the mothers of several of the young, unmarried ladies present and suggested their daughters might wish to extend the hand of English friendship to those American friends—those very
wealthy
American friends—of the groom who had traveled such a long way to attend his wedding. Even though Grayson had grown up at Fairborough, a nearby estate, he had spent more than a decade making his fortune in America and he had apparently invited everyone he had ever met there to celebrate his nuptials. It did seem that for every two of Her Majesty’s subjects there was at least one American visitor. Even those mothers determined to snare their daughters a lofty title were practical enough to see the benefits of a liaison with a rich American. Eligible men with respectable titles and decent fortunes were in short supply these days.

Teddy’s gaze constantly shifted between the guests and the hired waiters. Millworth Manor simply did not have the staff necessary for a gathering of this size. Part and parcel of her job was doing all in her power to make certain every guest had as good a time as possible. It would not do for a dissatisfied guest to gossip about what a dreadful time he or she’d had. She stopped a passing waiter and directed him to a group of gentlemen discussing whatever it was gentlemen were compelled to discuss when they clustered together at social events. But the gentlemen’s glasses were empty and that would never do.

Those not dancing milled and mingled, renewing old acquaintances, sharing the latest bit of gossip and, without question, dissecting every detail of Camille and Grayson’s wedding. Teddy allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. Such dissection would only serve to greater solidify Teddy and her mother’s position as one of the preeminent planners of society events in England. When they had started planning parties and weddings, they had been engaged primarily because there was nothing society hostesses liked better than having the socially prominent Countess of Sallwick and her daughter organize their events. Then too, not everyone could afford their exorbitant rates, which only served to add to the social prestige of the hostess hiring them. Rates her mother explained to prospective clients with a blithe wave of her hand as she charmingly pointed out there was a high price to be paid for the very best.

Of course, charm was Mother’s greatest contribution to their efforts, a reality of their new life Teddy had realized almost from the beginning. Teddy knew as well that the functions they planned had best be rousing successes if their business was to succeed. She might not have been born to the world of business but she understood that even a prestigious name would not make up for shoddy service. Teddy could name quite a few ladies who still suffered the taint of unsuccessful soirees held years ago. But social successes were not as easy as they looked. Teddy never imagined the organization of parties, fetes, soirees, and weddings would be quite as all-consuming as it was. She had never worked like this in her life. Still, it was worth it. They’d come a long way in a few short years.

Teddy gazed out over the crowd and wondered what these people would say if they knew this wasn’t just the eccentric hobby of the countess and her daughter. If they knew her father’s death four years ago had left them very nearly penniless and with debts still to be paid off. Only her closest and oldest friend, the bride’s sister Delilah, Lady Hargate, knew the truth. But Dee would take Teddy’s secret to the grave if necessary. There were any number of sins the upper ten thousand would forgive. Poverty was not one of them.