Chapter 19
“Excuse me?” Surely Jackson hadn’t heard aright.
“I’ve found you a wife,” Viscount Middleton repeated.
Edward, snickering from the corner of the room, didn’t aid the situation.
“You know you can’t just bring me a woman to wed, don’t you?” Jackson queried.
The viscount bristled. “You are hardly doing anything to find one for yourself.”
“You gave me a week.”
“And you’ve done nothing with that time,” his father countered. “I asked you to join society, to meet and mingle. Instead, you growled and glared.”
“I met. I mingled.”
His brother broke into a full-out laugh. “Admit it, your social skills are abysmal.”
Father intervened before Jackson could pummel his brother. “Silence, Edward. You are not one to talk given your propensity for chasing skirts. A pastime not likely to find you a wife.”
Edward merely grinned. “I’m looking. Just so happens I might have found myself one.”
At this, Jackson spoke up. “Is she aware of her impending doom?”
To his irritation, Edward continued to smirk. “Since she practically asked me for my hand, I’d say she is aware.”
“I’ll deal with you later, Edward. I can only handle one disobedient son at a time.” Their father’s voice rumbled through the room.
With no desire for the conversation to return to him, Jackson hoped his father had forgotten about his insane decree.
To his chagrin, Father’s frown pinned him in his chair, destroying all thoughts of fleeing. “Now, about your future wife. She has impeccable breeding and an outstanding demeanor.”
“Are you shackling me to a woman or a hound?”
“The latter, if you don’t hold your tongue.”
Jackson couldn’t remain silent. Not with his bachelorhood in danger. “What if I have other plans?”
His father’s eyes narrowed. “What plans would those be?”
Already in the thick of it, Jackson dug himself in deeper. “I want to travel the world.”
“I would wager my life Willie incited this.”
“It was my decision. I went to him.” A rift between the two friends was the last thing Jackson wanted.
His father huffed a breath. “I should have known he’d fill your head with craziness.”
“Again, it was my idea. Willie didn’t fill me with anything. He only offered me a chance to live my life as I wish.”
“And I don’t?”
Jackson laughed. Given the last fifteen minutes, how could he not? “You’ve instructed me to find a wife. Threatened me, actually. When I didn’t comply fast enough, you searched one out for me. Does that sound like allowing me to make my own choices?”
“I’m your father. I know what is best for you. The life Willie offers is filled with danger and uncertainty. A married life in England would give you security, happiness.”
“Whose happiness? Because it certainly wouldn’t be mine,” Jackson protested.
“I won’t support it. If you make this decision, you will be on your own. You’ve never fended for yourself. What makes you think you can do it now?”
Jackson’s temper flared. Just because he never had, didn’t mean he couldn’t. “I don’t require your support.”
“You must need something or you wouldn’t still be here.”
The truth kept Jackson silent. He did need something. One more allowance installment and he could pay Willie as promised. The old captain would let him sail without it but Jackson didn’t want any favors; he strove to be Willie’s equal.
“Well, what is it? What keeps you on England’s soil?” his father pressed.
Ready to reveal his need for the money, a small, rather annoying voice whispered perhaps the money wasn’t what held him back.
Kate.
If he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, Jackson swore he could still smell her on him. Having her wrapped in his arms had felt like acceptance, a new experience for him. Like a deep feeling of home and of belonging.
He’d wanted to lock her in his embrace and hold her forever. Painfully, he had let her go. What choice was there? She was a breath from betrothal to a duke. He had nothing to offer her. He doubted her father would consent to her marrying the second son of a viscount. Especially a viscount who’d earned his title. Not when Kate’s father already had a duke in his pocket.
Keeping her for himself would achieve nothing for either of them.
But would it make me happy?
The simple question resonated in his head. And not for the first time. He could spout to Kate about the legend of the mystical tree and how forces outside their control had bound them together; how they never would have chosen each other. Such drivel would all be false. He’d chosen Kate. His body had chosen, too . . . and last night they both had claimed her.
Today was less clear.
Whatever he decided, he first must contend with his father. Stomping out of the room as he so desired wouldn’t gain any favorable results. He needed to outsmart the man.
“Who exactly is this perfect wife you’ve uncovered for me?” It won’t make a difference.
“Lord Truell’s youngest daughter. Beatrice . . . or Barbara. Maybe it is Betsey.”
Jackson quelled the urge to glare at his father. “I’m assuming her name starting with the second letter of the alphabet is the only thing you are confident about. I’d think you’d have done more research pertaining to the woman with whom you wish for me to spend the rest of my life.”
“Does her name really matter?”
“I think calling my future wife by her actual name matters quite a bit, especially to her.”
“So, you agree to marry her?” His father never could ascertain heavy sarcasm.
From his chair in the corner of the room, Edward guffawed. “I’m so glad I got out of bed this morning.”
“Aren’t we lucky,” Jackson snarled at his brother. Turning, he confronted their father. “I agree to nothing, including marriage to the girl sight unseen.”
“If you must, then court her. I don’t care, as long as in the end, you marry her.”
The hard edge of the viscount’s voice sent a shiver of despair through Jackson. He feared his sire’s leniency in his life had come to an end. Should he have seen this coming when his father had issued his ultimatum? He’d been too confident in his ability to outmaneuver the old man.
“They will be dining with us this evening.”
Jackson’s jaw missed hitting the floor by only a few inches. “I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t be dense, son. You heard me.”
“Yes, I heard you. I just cannot believe you took the liberty to invite Beatrice, Barbara—or perhaps it was Betsey—without consulting me first.”
“I knew you’d object.”
No longer content to sit while his father rode roughshod over his future, Jackson jumped to his feet. “Of course I’d object! This is my life you seem determined to control.”
“One meal. Hardly cause for such dramatics.”
Obviously Father saw nothing wrong with this proposition.
“And if I don’t attend?”
The viscount sat quietly for a second longer than Jackson liked. Nothing good ever came from the man’s silences.
Finally, he answered, “I could end your allowance.”
“Do your worst, you old coot,” Jackson muttered under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face, reining in his frustration.
If he wanted to sail with Willie as an equal partner, he could not afford to lose his temper.
Abruptly, he stood. “It is only supper. I agree to nothing more.”
Father’s final words sat ponderously in the room. “We will see.”