Chapter Six
“Lendale, a moment of your time, please.”
Jack had almost escaped, but fortune was not with him today. In fact, although Lady Luck had been with him for many a long year during the war, the fickle beauty had clearly abandoned him once he’d returned home to England’s verdant shores.
As he transferred his hat back to the footman who waited by the front door, the fellow gave him a slight, sympathetic grimace. Lady John had all the servants hopping these days, now that she’d finally gotten herself established in the Bedford Square mansion. It had been his mother’s fondest dream for as long as Jack could remember, and although her dream had finally come true, it presented enough challenges to daunt even his strong-willed parent.
“There’s no need to address me so formally, Mother,” he said to the dignified woman waiting for him in the door of the library. “Jack served quite well for my entire life.”
Her narrow, clever eyebrows pulled together in a slight show of disapproval, but she refrained from answering until the footman closed the doors of the library behind them. His mother crossed to one of the slender, Hepplewhite-style chairs grouped around a table that looked much too delicate for the masculine décor of the library. The furniture grouping was new, as were the gold window hangings. They were not to his personal taste, but he had no doubt his mother’s choices were bang up to the mark and expensive.
She took a seat, nodding for him to do the same. Jack waved a hand, preferring to remain on his feet in the hope that she would receive the unspoken message that he was pressed for time.
“Now that you are master of this house,” she said, “it would be inappropriate for me to address you with so negligent a degree of respect. What would the servants think?”
“That you’re my mother and that I’m your son?”
He heard her breathe out a tiny sigh. “My son, as much as I esteemed the previous marquess—”
“That would be my uncle and your brother-in-law, I believe.”
“Really, Jack, must you keep interrupting me?”
He laughed. “I’m sorry, Mother, but sometimes you are remarkably easy to tease. And I did get you to call me Jack, which I count as a small victory.”
The corners of her mouth tipped up, albeit reluctantly. When she forgot her worries—or her pride—she transformed into the good-humored woman he remembered from his childhood. Too many cares and too much bitterness had made that woman increasingly hard to find as the calendar turned one year to the next.
“Touché,” she said. “But my point remains. As fond as I was of your uncle, he was too lax in his domestic affairs, and that led to a degree of vulgarity in the tone of his household. For your sake, that state of affairs must not be allowed to continue. We may address each other informally when we’re alone, but it’s important to maintain the appropriate decorum in front of the household staff.”
Jack knew there was little point in arguing with her; she would do as she wished regardless. And he had given the running of Lendale House over to her because he had more than enough on his plate dealing with Stonefell.
“I bow to your superior judgment in such domestic matters,” he said.
She studied him with a disconcertingly acute regard. “I know all these rules and restrictions are not to your liking, but the servants gossip, you know. And that talk never stays within the household because they all have friends and acquaintances working in other London establishments. You may think your secrets are safe, my dear, but they are not.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Mother, I have no secrets worthy of salacious gossip. And even if I did have something of interest to hide, I would not share it with any of the staff, including my valet. I know you think me guilty of a low sense of informality, but I am not a stupid man.”
Her slight flinch represented uncharacteristic vulnerability and immediately made him feel guilty. When it came to his mother, guilt was a constant companion. As much as he cared for her—for his entire family—that unpleasant emotion was one of the reasons he’d been happy to remain on the Continent. Life had been easier when he was Major Jack Easton. Then his only problem had been French soldiers, and sometimes he thought he’d understood those adversaries better than he did his own family.
“I apologize,” he said quietly. “You must know how grateful I am for all your help. It certainly hasn’t been easy for you these last several years.”
Her answering smile was warm but tinged with sadness. “And you must know that I would do anything for you, my son. I realize that I must seem like the worst sort of stickler, but for too long our family has been an object of mockery. It will take a lot of work to restore the appropriate sense of dignity to the Easton and Lendale names.”
He thought she overstated the case, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, given how both his father and uncle had misbehaved. No wonder his mother, who with quiet grace had suffered years of humiliation, longed to see the family’s reputation restored.
“I understand completely. Now, what did you wish to speak to me about?” He hoped to God she wasn’t about to hand him an unexpected set of bills. He’d given her a free hand to reorder the household, trusting in her good sense not to spend beyond their means. Unfortunately, he may have underestimated her eagerness to restore Lendale House to its former glory. To his mother, the family’s dignity was just as bound up in external appearance as it was in the appropriate forms of address.
“I was thinking it past time for us to host a proper dinner party,” she said. “It’s been some years since your sister has been to Town, and we should hold one to honor her visit.”
Jack’s sister had married a prosperous country squire with significant holdings in Somerset. Richard Kendall was a thoroughly decent man who adored his wife and children but abhorred city living. Although happy to indulge Anne, he put his foot down when it came to anything but short visits to London. Now that Jack was marquess, Kendall had finally agreed to let his wife come for an extended stay. She was due tomorrow and would remain with them at Lendale House for over a month.
“I’m sure Anne would like that very much,” he said. “And I suppose we’ve got to start entertaining sooner or later.”
The idea didn’t thrill him, but looking like paupers might scare away wealthy members of the Ton who were potential investors in his mining scheme.
“Your sister will be delighted. Poor Anne has been rusticating for so long, I wonder if she remembers what a proper party looks like.”
“Surely you exaggerate,” Jack said. “Kendall is a very wealthy and generous fellow. And he seems to dote on her, from what I can tell.”
His mother flicked an impatient hand. “Yes, but he’s a country squire, my dear.” Her jaw worked for a moment. “You’re well aware of the hopes we had for your sister when she came out.”
Anne had been considered a diamond of the first water, a beautiful girl with a kind nature and quick wit. By all rights, she should have made a splendid match. Unfortunately, she was virtually lacking a dowry, thanks to the spendthrift ways of her father and uncle.
After three years on the marriage mart, Anne had been verging on spinsterhood. Only Richard Kendall, in London visiting aristocratic relations, had proposed. Since it was clear she’d never receive a better offer, she’d accepted. She’d done it with good grace, too, unlike her mother, who still hadn’t overcome the cruel disappointment of her beautiful daughter being forced to marry into the country gentry.
“How could I forget?” he said dryly.
“You know the sacrifices your sister made on behalf of our family,” his mother said tartly. “And how generous she’s been in helping us through many a difficulty.”
“Kendall, too,” Jack said. “He’s never once voiced a word of complaint over the years. He certainly had every right to, given how many times he’s pulled us out of the River Tick. We’d probably be in debtor’s prison without his help.”
His mother blushed. “I’ve never denied Richard’s better qualities, but I do not believe we must resort to vulgar cant to acknowledge them. You’re a marquess now, my son, not a soldier on the battlefield. You must act accordingly.”
Jack was tempted to point out that he’d known many a common soldier with better manners than the average male aristocrat but refrained. “Point taken. As to the party, I’ll leave all the details in your capable hands. How many do you expect to invite?”
“At least forty, I should think.”
That made him blink. “That many?”
She nodded. “It will be a splendid opportunity for you to meet some of the Ton’s most eligible young ladies and their parents. You can’t put it off much longer, Jack. You need a wife and a helpmate.”
His stomach turned sour, but he forced a smile. “Why? I’ve got you taking care of everything for me.”
“Jack—”
“Very well. I’ll inspect as many heiresses as you care to trot out. But right now I must be off. I have a fairly urgent matter to attend to.”
He bent to press a quick kiss to her cheek but drew back when she frowned. “Now what?” he asked.
“You’re going to visit her, aren’t you?”
Christ. “It’s nothing to concern yourself about, Mother.”
“I thought so. You’re going to see that Kincaid girl.” Though she didn’t raise her voice, her tone was heavy with disapproval.
“I am,” he said tersely. Though Jack never discussed the Kincaids with his mother, he’d been forced to tell her why he’d unexpectedly returned to London. They’d already had one argument about Lia.
“I don’t know why you bother,” she replied in a cold voice. “You told me that she’s staying with her mother and stepfather. It’s their responsibility to take care of the girl, not yours.”
“If I had any confidence that Mrs. Lester would exercise her parental responsibility, I might agree with you. But because she’s never shown any inclination to safeguard her own child, I’m not hopeful. Besides, as I already explained, the Lester household is not an appropriate place for Lia.”
“I would think the opposite is true. Miss Kincaid is now at her level, instead of pretending to be something she isn’t,” his mother said with a curl of her lip.
Jack had to swallow the impulse to snap back at her. “Despite Lia’s unfortunate parentage, she’s been raised in a genteel fashion in the country.”
“Yes, so genteel that she’s taken the first opportunity to run away to London to become an actress,” his mother said sarcastically. “The foolish girl seems determined to follow in her mother’s disreputable footsteps.”
Jack shook his head. There was a yawning chasm between them on the issue of the Kincaids. “Mother, I realize it’s difficult for you to understand, but I have a deep responsibility toward Lia. And whether you believe it or not, she has no idea what she’s gotten herself in to. She’s a country girl through and through, and the type of life she’s contemplating—through a ridiculously romantic haze, I might add—will destroy her. As her friend, I will not allow that to happen. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you at dinner.”
He started to turn away, but her desperate voice stopped him. “Jack, wait.”
Turning, his heart sank when he took in the pain in her gaze and the lines of bitterness scored so deeply around her mouth.
“You’ve forgotten what it was like,” she said. “You were able to escape to school and then to the army, so you didn’t have to live with it as your sister and I did. The humiliations your father inflicted. The mistresses I turned a blind eye to.” Her hands fisted into her skirts. “Your father spent so much on them, giving them jewels and fine clothes while I struggled to pay the bills. And the money he squandered on horses, the gambling . . .” Her voice quavered before she stopped, trying to regain her self-control.
Jack’s heart ached for her. He’d loved his father—they all had, including his mother. Lord John had been a handsome, witty man, with an affectionate manner and a gregarious personality that charmed all who knew him. The hell of it was, his father had genuinely loved them back. But he’d loved himself more. Like generations of Easton men preceding him, he’d been too spoiled and arrogant to control his baser appetites.
“I know what you suffered,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help you.”
She gave him a sad smile. “You did try, more than once. But nothing ever worked, did it?”
A few times, when it was especially bad, Jack had even come to blows with him. Invariably, his father apologized, shedding tears and promising to reform what he called his sad character. But his resolve only held until another beautiful woman or a cracking great horse crossed his path.
“No, but we weren’t entirely left to our own resources. Uncle Arthur always did what he could. He was very generous to me.”
Her ladylike snort signaled what she thought of that line of argument. His mother had hated the time he’d spent at Stonefell, fearing he would be corrupted by his uncle’s lax morals. She’d hated even more that Uncle Arthur had paid for his commission in the Horse Guards because she’d lost her staunchest ally in the fight against her husband’s reckless ways.
“Yes, and for you to pursue your dream,” his mother said, “Anne and I were forced to make many sacrifices.”
“I understand that, and I will do everything in my power to secure our family’s future and ensure that you never have to suffer again.”
“I’m sure that is your intention, but such is not the case. In fact, I think you are in danger of making the same mistake your uncle did—a mistake that will destroy everything I have fought to achieve for you and this family.”
Jack stared at her silently until clarity dawned. “You think I’m having an affair with Lia? That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” she asked in a haughty voice.
“You know it is.”
“Regardless of what I think, others might not find it so.”
“Others can mind their own damn business. I will not apologize for helping one of my oldest friends.”
His mother rose hastily to her feet. “Jack, you must make a good marriage. What respectable girl would wish to betroth herself to man openly involved with an actress, especially one with that particular name? No young woman of breeding, nor her parents, would even contemplate it.”
“For the last time, I am not involved with Lia,” he gritted out. “And she’s not an actress.”
His mother waved her arms. “Jack, it only matters what people think. And they will think you are just like your father—a rakehell of the first order. Someone who cares only for his own animal appetites.”
Disbelief and anger surged through him. “I am nothing like my father—or my uncle, for that matter. You know that.”
“Then give up this foolish notion that you owe anything to this creature or her family,” she pleaded. “She’s at her level and you are at yours. They cannot and will not ever meet.”
“Her name is Lia,” Jack said quietly. “And she’s a kind and decent young woman who’s never done anything to wrong any of us.”
“I know her name,” his mother said bitterly. “It’s Kincaid. And like every woman in that family, she wrongs us by her very existence. For God’s sake, let us be done with them before they ruin us yet again.”
She turned on her heel and swept from the room.