Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

Fanny tried to appear bright over lunch, but the downcast spirits of her daughter, earlier, and Jack’s obvious solicitousness towards Odette depressed even her. Time was ticking towards Jack’s nuptials, but Bertram’s plan to bring together Derry and Odette seemed increasingly doomed to fail, if not ridiculous. The surreptitious glances Jack and Katherine sent each other endorsed the fact they were secretly in love, but Odette’s shining love for Jack and her frail dependence upon him would make it impossible for him to forsake her. Fanny knew him too well.

As for Odette and Derry, it was clear the pair enjoyed one another’s company when on the dance floor and during the few minutes she’d ensured they sat alone together at her little gathering. But what possibility was there of them suddenly being overcome with wild romantic love for one another without provocation? And what provocation could possibly be instigated?

When Jack and Odette rose, declaring they must leave, there was nothing to suggest that fate would run its course. Katherine and Jack, she feared, would again be denied.

Chapter 24

It was only three hours to Patmore Farm, and travel was to be conducted during the day. So when Odette’s aunt declared herself suddenly unwell, it was agreed by all over pudding that it would be acceptable for Odette to travel in the same carriage with Jack, unaccompanied.

“What a treat,” she murmured, pressing her cheek against his shoulder when the door was closed upon them and the horses moved forward. “Soon we can be together, forever, always. You’re all I have left, Jack. Papa will be gone soon, and I will have no one. No one except you.”

Jack squeezed the little gloved hand she placed in his and tried not to think of Katherine. She’d looked so beautiful and so tragic over lunch today. If Jack were free to offer her the world, offer her his heart, he would do so. But with Odette depending on him so heavily, he could not.

“And my adoptive parents,” he added. “They’ve been so good to me when under no obligation. I owe them the world. You will be like a daughter to them, I know it.”

She smiled. “I hope so. But Jack, I do wish you’d stop referring to them as your adoptive parents. They gave you their name and their backing. There’s no need to tell the whole world you’re adopted, and there’s certainly no need to tell them you’re originally from the foundling home.”

“It’s the truth, and I’m proud of it,” Jack said. “Would you not consider it worse if I were to say nothing and then have people think I was trying to deceive them or present myself in a false light?” He paused. “Would you have felt differently about me if you’d known earlier that I was an orphan who had no idea who his parents were? You say you fell in love with me from afar and long before you met me. And your father never said anything to you about my origins—but if you’d known, would you have felt differently?”

He’d been gazing through the window at the passing countryside now they’d left behind the city and straggling villages clustered on its outskirts. He glanced at Odette. She was toying with the fringe of her flounced skirt, biting her lip, and when she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes.

“Your unknown origins—as you refer to not knowing about your parentage—means nothing to me, Jack,” she whispered. “But it would be wrong to pretend other people feel the same unconcern.” Her shoulders trembled, and for once Jack felt no desire to hold her to him. Odette’s frail need had once appealed to his sense of manliness. He’d wanted to protect and nurture her. In India, she’d seemed like a fragile flower in a hot and hostile environment. Since coming to England, however, she’d shown a steely resilience that had at first impressed him but now had him questioning who she really was, since she alternated so greatly between fire and frailty.

“So, what are you saying, Odette? That I should pretend to the world that the Patmores are my real parents? Why, half of society knows the truth.”

“Well, there’s no need to tell everyone on your first meeting with them,” she muttered.

“Do I?” He squared his shoulders feeling aggrieved, for she made him out to be some angst-ridden get-ahead man who hadn’t reconciled the truth of what he was. Dread assailed him. But he had, hadn’t he? He’d long ago accepted he was a bastard, just as he’d reconciled himself to not knowing what his parents might have been. A prostitute for a mother, and a murderer for a father? He’d accepted the worst possible pairing he could come up with so that he was prepared, should he ever be served up the truth. Not that that was possible unless someone visited the foundling home twenty-five years later looking for him and revealed the truth, which may or may not ever be delivered to him.

“It’s not like you blurt it out in the first conversation, but you have a habit, as you progress your acquaintance, of ensuring that people know the Patmores are your adoptive family and that you are an orphan. And then, if they ask, you furnish them with details of coming from a foundling home, Jack.” She put her hand on his sleeve and obviously tried to look ameliorating. “I don’t mind admitting that I cried myself to sleep when I learned the truth months after I’d fallen in love with you—”

“You never said, Odette.” His words sounded cold even to his own ears. It was not like him, but a great hardness towards her was welling up inside him. Her words sounded like a terrible betrayal, even though he knew it shouldn’t since she’d simply offered him the truth and still professed to love him, as she once again reiterated.

“You know my heart belongs to you, irrespective of all that,” she said urgently, gripping his lapel. “Yes, I worry about our children and how society will judge them, and that’s a truth I’m both ashamed to admit—for your sake—but which I think is only natural. But wouldn’t you rather the truth, Jack?”

He stared at the heartfelt look in her eyes and found no answering surge of feeling. He’d have expected to feel a great warmth at her honesty for hadn’t she been brave in admitting that when she must have known it would have been unpalatable to him?

Swallowing down his disappointment, he lightly squeezed the hand she thrust into his. She was desperate for his acceptance of all she’d said, and if they were to be married—as they inevitably would be—he had to exonerate and forgive her for feelings they both might not like. The most important thing was that she’d admitted the truth and the truth trumped all.

“Thank you for being so honest, Odette,” he said, forcing himself to smile. “If I could have given you my name, I would have. I am proud of the name Patmore and the lineage. But it isn’t mine.” Saying the words aloud was more painful than he could possibly have imagined. He closed his eyes. “I shall, however, endeavour not to embarrass you with my can

dour when I go out and about in society, but nor shall I dress up the truth with lies.”

“Oh, Jack—”

Her words ended in a squeak as the carriage went into a deep rut, sending them swaying perilously to the side before it righted itself and continued. But the pile of rugs on the opposite seat had fallen to the floor, and Jack was about to reach out to pick one up to put over Odette’s knees when out of the woollen layers emerged a little head.

“Oh!” said a little girl, staring wide-eyed at them from the floor.

Odette gasped while Jack exclaimed, “Diana, what are you doing here?”

She rubbed her eyes. “I was sleeping.”

Odette leaned forward to peer closer. “Diana! You naughty child! You shouldn’t be here.” She sounded so cross, whereas Jack felt only a great affinity with the child whose chatter he’d found quite endearing on several occasions. She reminded him so much of her mother when Katherine had been a child.

“I am not naughty. I was sleeping,” said the little girl, staring at Odette with a rather challenging look.

“But why…in our carriage?” Odette demanded.