Captain Jack's Woman (Bastion Club 0.50)
He dressed with unusual care, choosing a morning coat of simple elegance, determined to impress his wife with every facet of his personality. He knew exactly what he’d do. After greeting her coolly, he’d insist on seeing her alone. Then, he’d explain to her why her action in leaving him was unacceptable behavior in Lady Hendon, why no circumstance on earth could excuse her absence from the saftey of his hearth. Then he’d kiss the damned woman witless and bring her home. Simple.
He grabbed a cup of coffee and ordered Champion brought around.
“If she’s not here, where the devil is she?” Jack ran an agitated hand through his hair, dragging golden strands loose to fly in wisps about his haggard face. He paced the Gresham’s morning room like a caged and wounded tiger.
Amy watched him, sheer amazement in her face.
“Perhaps, my dear, you should get us some refreshment.” George smiled reassuringly into Amy’s eyes. Drawing her to her feet, he steered her to the door and held it for her.
Once Amy had escaped, George shut the door and fixed Jack with a stern eye. “I told you not to leave Kit alone.” His voice held a note of decided censure. “And if you left without explaining what was going on, I’m not surprised she’s left you.”
Jack paused to stare at him.
George grimaced and rummaged in his coat pocket. “Here,” he said, holding out the note Kit had sent him. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t need to show you this, but obviously your wife knows your stubbornness even better than I.”
Puzzled, Jack took the note and smoothed it out.
“Read the last sentence,” said George helpfully.
Jack did. I feel sure that you, being so much more in Jack’s confidence, will know better than I how to proceed. Crushing the note in his hand, Jack swore. “How the hell was I supposed to know she felt that strongly over it?” He glared at George.
George was unimpressed. “You knew damn well she wanted to know. Dash it—she deserved to know, after what she did that night on the beach. And as for her recent efforts in the cause—all I can say is she’s been damned understanding.”
Jack was taken aback. “You don’t even approve of her!”
“I know. She’s wild beyond excuse. But that doesn’t excuse you.”
Hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed and smoky grey, Jack glared at George. “You’re not going to tell me you’ve told Amy of our mission?”
Unaffected by Jack’s belligerence, George sat on the chaise. “No, of course not. But the point is, Kit’s not Amy.”
Jack’s lips twisted in a pained grimace. He fell to pacing once more, his brow furrowed. “If I’d told her, God knows what she’d have got up to. Our dealings were too dangerous—I couldn’t expose her to such risks.”
George sighed. “Hell, Jack—you knew, what she was like from the start. Why the devil did you marry her, if you weren’t prepared to accept those risks?”
“I married her because I love her, dammit!”
“Well, if that’s the case, then the rest should come easily.”
Jack shot him a suspicious glance. “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means,” said George, “that you wanted her for what she was—what she is. You can’t start changing bits and pieces, expecting her to change in some ways but not in others. Would you be pleased if she turned into another Amy?”
Jack bit back his retort, his lips compressed with the effort to hold back the unflattering reply.
George grinned. “Precisely. Not your cup of tea. Thankfully, she is mine.” The door opened at that moment; George looked up, smiling warmly as Amy entered, preceding her butler, who bore a tray burdened with a variety of strong liquors in addition to the teapot. Dismissing the butler, Amy poured tea for George and herself while George poured Jack a hefty glass of brandy. “Now that we’ve resolved your differences of opinion, what exactly has happened?”
With a warning frown, Jack took the glass. “I came back from London on Monday evening and got your message—as you’d instructed, as soon as I’d crossed the threshold. I went to see our friend, then returned to the Castle. Kit wasn’t there.” He took a swallow of his drink, then pulled a letter from his pocket. “As we seem to be passing my wife’s epistles about, you may as well read that.”
George took the letter. A quick perusal of its few lines had him pressing his lips firmly together to keep from grinning. “Well,” he said, “you can’t claim she’s not clear-headed.”
Jack humphed and took the letter back. “I assumed she’d gone to Cranmer Hall and reasoned she’d be safe enough there until I got back from reporting Anthony’s news to Whitley.”
George’s gaze was exasperated. “Hardly a wise move.”
“I wasn’t exactly in a wise mood at the time,” Jack growled, resuming his frustrated prowl. “I’ve just endured the most harrowing morning of my life. First, I went to Cranmer. I didn’t even make it t
o the Hall. I met Spencer out riding. Before I could say a word, he asked how Kit was.”