A Fine Passion (Bastion Club 4)

Jack held James’s gaze, read his sincerity. Knew the matter wasn’t as simple as James had painted it. But…he grimaced. “The best I can promise is to think about it, along with every other option.”

James smiled. “Good, good.”

His immediate relaxing made Jack inwardly smile, fondly, if cynically. Having explained his problem and handed it to Jack to resolve, with his customary single-mindedness James turned back to the task on his desk. He dipped his pen in the inkwell, then frowned at the sheet on his blotter. “I’d better get on with these lists, then, heh? Don’t want to delay you, and they’ll take a few days as it is.”

Jack finished his list and left it with James to fulfill. He departed the rectory without encountering Clarice; he considered, but didn’t seek her out. Opting to take the longer route home, he sank his hands in his breeches’ pockets and ambled down the drive, and did what he’d promised James he would.

He thought about dissuading Clarice from going to London.

Unlike James, he could see some distinct pros as well as the obvious, now he’d heard the full story of Clarice’s past, cons.

There was no denying that once in London, she would command the family’s immediate attention. More, they would accept that she would not let them stand aside and not support James; if they wanted her to leave them in peace, they would have to act in James’s defence. Not having to convince people of one’s steely and unbending nature was an advantage he appreciated.

On a darker note, he hadn’t forgotten the not-quite-a-gentleman with the round face. If he persuaded Clarice to remain here and leave the London mission to him, in stirring matters up in London, might he precipitate some action directed against James here—here where Clarice would undoubtedly insist on standing in front of James?

Not a comforting scenario. In such a situation, he would be second-guessing himself constantly, hamstrung in prosecuting James’s defence in London.

In similar vein, given he seriously doubted his ability to convince her to remain at Avening, if he refused to take her with him, she would travel to London on her own. Not only would that leave her facing the con James sought to avoid, it would also leave her a free agent, one beyond his immediate reach.

In London.

If, alerted by her activity on James’s behalf, the round-faced man took it into his head to silence her…London was a far more dangerous stage if she became a target, and he wasn’t prepared to allow her to become a target here, in the sleepy country where she was surrounded by people who knew and valued her. As Anthony’s carriage accident had proved, the sleepy countryside wasn’t all that safe, not if one was stalked by one skilled in the art.

Jack knew all about such things; he didn’t need to dwell on them. Turning out of the rectory gates, he headed down the road and turned his mind to London, to the nature of the welcome James was sure awaited Clarice there.

Was James right? He might have been right seven years ago, but was that how matters still stood within the Altwood clan? Certainly Anthony and his clergyman brother didn’t view Clarice as persona non grata, as a female ostracized by their family. Swinging through the manor’s gates, Jack looked up at his house and made a mental note to charm Anthony that evening and see what he could learn.

However…

He looked down, staring unseeing at the graveled drive as he climbed the long slope to his front door. Even if James was right, and Clarice faced a hostile reception in London, regardless of whatever pain that might cause her, did he, or James, have the right to interfere, to make that judgment—the judgment that she shouldn’t face that pain—for her?

He mentally replayed that moment when she’d first decreed that she would go to London on James’s behalf. She hadn’t made the decision lightly, in haste, without considering the pros and cons. She knew better than James what she would face in town; she’d known what she was doing in deciding to go.

James hadn’t asked; she’d insisted on making a sacrifice on James’s behalf. Was it right for him to dismiss that as meaningless? Offering themselves as sacrifices was what warriors did…and she was a warrior-queen.

Jack grimaced and kicked a larger stone out of the driveway, then paused to look down the rolling meadows to the stream. He wished he didn’t understand her quite so well; in some respects, it made life more difficult.

Protectiveness, especially with respect to females, especially females of his class, was second nature, something bred into him; as with James, it was an instinctive reaction. If the lady in question had been anyone but Clarice…but it wasn’t. With her, unlike James, because he understood, he had to think before he acted, because for her—for a warrior-queen—protecting her might not mean the obvious.

Protecting Clarice, acting in her best interests, might actually mean taking her to London with him. Allowing her to brave the wrath of her family and beard the dragons of her past and their rejection, potentially to conquer it, to overcome it, all while he was there, by her side, for support. That she had the right to face whatever battles she chose was, in dealing with her, a very real consideration. To his mind, he had a corresponding right to stand by her side, but not to stand in her way.

He stood for a time, assessing his logic while the burbling of the stream soothed his senses. He couldn’t fault his analysis, his reading of her. Eventually, he turned and continued up the drive.

There were other, to him highly desirable outcomes that would be served by taking Clarice with him. He didn’t underestimate the logistical difficulties, yet the chance of placing him and her together in a situation tailor-made to help him persuade her to look at him more deeply, to consider him as her consort, was hard to resist. In London, especially given their misson, she would see sides of him few ever had, and all against the backrop of his and her rightful circle, the ton.

At some point, he would have to jar her into seeing him as more than a brief liaison, as a lover for all seasons rather than just one. Spending time together alone, not necessarily private but without being constantly surrounded by people who relied on them and demanded their attention would be essential; the chance of spending time together in London seemed god-sent.

At the back of his mind lay the notion that in order to succeed in his pursuit of her, to change her mind and convince her to consider matrimony again, he would need to exorcise the ghosts he presumed must exist given her past history with men and marriage. Dispatching such ghosts would be much easier if he could see them, and London was their haunt.

His front door rose before him. He halted before the steps, stared at the door, and let the final thread of his argument run through his head.

The final consideration. Him.

Taking Clarice with him to London meant he would know she was safe. Regardless of all else, in order to function efficiently, to concentrate and accomplish all James needed done, he would need that assurance. Fussing over her, hemming her in, here or there, would put her back up, and perhaps reveal too much of his intentions too soon, but if she was with him, he would know without needing to ask.

Drawing in a breath, taking his hands from his pockets, he climbed the steps to his front door. James would have to live with his fears; he did not intend to put a foot wrong in his pursuit of his warrior-queen.

Chapter 10