“And there was their aunt, you know, their mother’s sister. I wonder what happened to her.” She was stirring her fork through the applesauce beside her pork kniver.
“I still have trouble believing it’s Georges Cadoudal’s son, since he and my father parted friends.”
“You said that your father rescued Janine Cadoudal. Surely she couldn’t have hated him, couldn’t have taught her children to hate him. He saved her.”
“Yes, and evidently she offered herself to him. But father was coming back to a new bride, namely my mother, and so he refused. When she discovered she was pregnant, she told Cadoudal that my father had forced her, and the child was his.”
“Oh dear, I can see that such a story would make Cadoudal furious.”
“Yes. Cadoudal kidnapped my mother, as revenge, took her to France, and when my father and Uncle Tony found her, she was miscarrying a babe. In any case, Janine confessed the truth to Georges, Father and Mother returned to England, and that was the last time he ever saw Cadoudal.”
“So she had a child.”
“My father said he heard something about the child dying, then there was nothing more.”
“I’ve always loved mysteries,” she said, her fork set on her plate now, as she leaned forward toward him, her chin resting on her clasped hands, “but I don’t like one that could hurt my new family. We’ll figure it out, James. We must find the son.”
“Yes.”
“James, you’re looking at me again.”
“Well, yes, you’re my dinner companion.”
“No, you’re looking dangerous and determined. You were wearing the same look before you ripped my clothes off.” She lowered her voice, leaned over the remains of her pork kniver. “It’s lust, isn’t it?”
Slowly, James rose, tossed his napkin on the table, and held out his hand. “How do you feel?”
“Full and-”
“Corrie, between your legs, are you still sore?”
She picked up an apple, polished it on her sleeve, took a tiny bite, then smiled at him. “I think,” she said, “that I’m ready for my bath. You said you would wash my back for me.”
He nearly shook and shuddered himself out of the small private parlor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
JASON LOOKED INTO Judith McCrae’s dark eyes, felt himself fill with an odd mix of contentment and an excitement so powerful he wondered how a man could bear it. “Your eyes are darker than mine, at least at this moment.”
“Perhaps,” she whispered.
“My brother was just wed.”
“Yes.”
“I remember looking up-was it the Ranleagh ball?-and there you were, staring at me all the while waving that fan, and my heart fell into my shoes.”
She drew back, but her hands still clutched at his arms. “Really? Is your heart still there? In your shoes?”
He grinned down at her. “My heart even collapses into my boots when I wear them.”
“I am nearly twenty. Did you know that, Jason?”
“You do not look your age.”
A giggle escaped.
“Does this mean you’re near to the back of the shelf?”
“Your wit-well, I never thought of it like that, you know, being unacceptable to a gentleman because I was no longer as young as say, Corrie. I never considered that I would move in London society. The thought of going to London with the express reason of finding a husband, it simply never occurred to me. But then Aunt Arbuckle swooped into my life, brought me here, and introduced me to everyone.”
“Why didn’t you assume your aunt would introduce you into society?”
“There were fallings out, I guess you could call them, amongst everyone in my family. But no longer, thank God. I will tell you something, Jason. I was rather bored, I admit it, until I saw you-yes, it was the Ranleagh ball. I’m not an heiress like Corrie.”
“Why would that matter to me?”
“Well, you are a second son, Jason, no matter that you were born minutes after James.”
“I’m rich,” he said abruptly. “My legacy from my grandfather will keep me from penury. I can support a wife. I am thinking of breeding horses, Judith. It is something that suits me; unlike estate management, which suits James quite well. When the gods were casting the die, everything seems to have sorted out properly.”
“You mean you don’t mind being the second son? You don’t mind not being the future earl of Northcliffe?”
“Blessed hell, of course not. You said you never considered coming to London to find a husband. Well, I never considered being the earl of Northcliffe. My brother will make a fine earl when his time comes. And I, well, I will be myself and surely that is not too bad. Had you expected some burning sort of resentment on my part?”
“Perhaps. It seems to me that it would be natural to resent not having what he will have.”
He grinned down at her. “I would heartily detest dealing with all the problems my brother will have to handle as a matter of course. We’ve some tenants who make the vicar curse. No, I’m free to be what I wish and free to do what I wish. I am a very lucky man.”
He paused a moment, looked down at his boots, perhaps to see if his heart were there, and said, “I have been giving this a lot of thought, and I believe I should like to visit Ireland, go to The Coombes, to see your cousin’s operation. Is he a welcoming fellow, your cousin?”
“Ah, I’m certain he would much enjoy having you.”
“Good. Ah, there is also the Rothermere stud in Yorkshire. The Hawksburys live there. Their eldest son is my age. Perhaps you would like to see a stud?”
“Perhaps,” she said, and her fingers tightened about his arms. “I might even prefer traveling to Rothermere above visiting my cousin. Rothermere is new to me, you see, and thus of more interest. You are very strong, Jason. I’ve observed that in you.”
“My mother likes to tell James and me that the moment we could stand, we wanted to pick each other up. When I was three, I managed to hoist James over my head for perhaps one second. My mother, as I remember, applauded, which, naturally, didn’t make James happy at all. I don’t remember this, but my mother says that he stomped a toy wooden block on my foot he was so mad. I had a very fine childhood. Did you, Judith?”
Was there a flash of pain in her fine eyes? He couldn’t be sure. He wanted to ask her, but he sensed, deep inside himself, that she would back away from him if he tried to probe. She was an exciting mixture of shy and wicked, reticent and confident, combinations that drove him mad even while his heart speeded up. He realized too that he wanted to hold her close, tell her that he would care for her until the day he died, but he said nothing. He wasn’t yet certain what was in her mind. He wasn’t a patient man, but he knew to his bones that with her, patience wasn’t a lame virtue, it was a necessity. He wondered at it, but accepted it, just as he was prepared to accept her, her shyness and her wickedness, and anything else she could dish up.
“My childhood was fine indeed, Jason. There were some bad times, of course, as there must be in life. Happiness comes and then it goes, as does unhappiness.”
He said, lightly touching his fingertip to her chin, “Are you happy now, Judith? Now that you’ve met me?” She shrugged, began to fiddle with his cravat, and fell silent. He felt pain, at a girl’s seeming rejection? He’d simply never encountered such feelings before. Could he have been mistaken in her? No, that wasn’t possible, surely. She seemed inordinately fascinated by his cravat. He said nothing, waited.
Finally, she raised her face to his. “Am I happier now that I’ve met you? It’s odd, you know. When there is someone who is important, you forget that there was ever another life. You live from one burst of happiness to the next. Of course in between, there is uncertainty and plain misery, for you don’t know what the other is thinking, feeling.”