Law of Attraction Read online

  “The stories Father told were pillars of veracity, of course,” Cian added.

  Everyone laughed.

  Will shook his head. “They were rather wild and colorful, weren’t they? If you can sort the truth out from among them, they may be of some use, Neil.”

  “I doubt it,” Neil said. “The regiment is posted to the Swan River colony, and Father spent his time in Botany Bay.”

  “They’re far apart, those two places?” Jack asked.

  “Botany Bay is on the eastern side of the island. The Swan River is on the other side,” Neil said. “Or so they tell me.”

  “You could visit Botany Bay and speak to people who knew Father, then?” Cian asked.

  Neil’s face worked, as if he was debating something in his mind. Then he said apologetically, “No one has ever crossed from one side to the other by land. It takes two weeks by ship, if the trade winds are running.”

  The silence that greeted his words was thoughtful.

  “That makes England feel rather small in comparison, doesn’t it?” Cian said.

  Will raised his glass again. “May your ship leave soon, Neil and spare you the grief of the coming days.”

  Jack sighed and said nothing. Instead, he drank with the rest of them.

  Chapter Six

  Present day: The Wakefield Residence, St. James Square, London. February 1867. The same day.

  Sharla handed Jenny a small glass of madeira. “Not that I encourage drinking for recovery, only there are times when it helps. Are you ready to continue?”

  Jenny looked around the morning room, as Dane patted cushions on the sofa into place behind him and Ben pulled the upright chair closer to Jenny’s chair. “It is rather draining to speak about Jack. Perhaps I should move on to the events in the journal, rather than bother you with everything that came before.”

  Ben looked startled, as he put the chair in place. “You said it was necessary to know everything that came before.”

  “You said you wished to understand,” Jenny said. “You said things might go badly if you don’t.”

  “That is true,” Ben admitted.

  “I want to spare Jack any of this disaster, if I can,” Jenny told him. “If I must talk until I am hoarse to do that, then I will.”

  Ben grimaced. “It may not be possible to spare him, Jenny. Jack is named in the papers.”

  Her heart sank. “If you know everything, every little detail, will it help shield him at all?”

  “It might,” Ben said. “If I am prepared, I can mitigate some of the consequences.”

  “Very well then,” Jenny said and sipped the madeira.

  Sharla smiled and settled herself in the wing chair in the corner. “What Ben is not saying is that he wants to know the whole story now. You have caught his imagination, Jenny, with your tale.”

  Jenny looked at Ben, startled. “That is not why I am telling you everything,” she said, alarmed.

  Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m interested,” he admitted. “It appears you and Jack have been living a secret life right here in the middle of the family and no one suspected a thing.”

  “We wanted it that way, at first,” Jenny admitted. “Afterward, we were forced to secrecy and…well, I suppose I should explain that, too. Sharla, are you and Dane not interested? You said only Ben was.”

  Sharla looked uncomfortable. “Dane told me you and Jack had a connection no one knew about, years and years ago.”

  Jenny looked at Dane, startled. “We gave ourselves away?”

  “At the gathering in Cornwall, in eighteen sixty-two,” Dane said. He gave her a warm smile. “We didn’t tell anyone else.”

  “You didn’t tell me, Jenny. I presumed I should not tell anyone,” Sharla added.

  Jenny bit her lip. “Oh, Sharla, I have been so unkind to you and you have been such a good friend, despite my treatment.”

  “You are my sister,” Sharla told her. “Besides, I shunned the family for years, myself. I understood that you might need to do so, even if I didn’t know the reasons why.”

  Jenny gripped the small glass in her hand, letting the crystal bite into her flesh. “That year at the gathering…that was where everything changed.” She hesitated. “Only, that was the end of the change, not the start of it. It really started in March, although I wasn’t aware of it until April, when the family returned to London for the start of the season…”

  * * * * *

  Five Years Ago: The Wardell house, Grosvenor Square, London. April 1862.

  The return to London every year after Easter was an annual event Jenny dreaded, especially after her coming out in 1860. This year, though, the date could not arrive fast enough. Jack would be waiting for her, although to the rest of the world, he was attending his family’s affairs and the matters surrounding his expertise as a mining engineer.

  After months of holding their love secret, they would be able to speak of it to others. Jenny was ready—more than ready—to have everyone know the truth.

  She fidgeted for the duration of the train journey and seethed as the carriage from the station constantly slowed and stopped on the clogged London streets. Finally, though, the carriages halted in Grosvenor Square.

  The children were the first to climb to the pavement. As Jenny was on the far side of the carriage, she was forced to wait until the remaining adults exited. Then she stepped onto the footpath in front of the white stone house and could hurry inside, looking for Jack.

  She brushed past the Paulson. The first place she looked was the library, which would be a natural place for Jack to be. The room was empty. The drawing room and morning room and the smoking room were all the same.

  Jenny tried the dining room, even though it was the least likely place Jack would be.

  He was sitting at the table, newspapers before him and a cup and saucer and teapot on the other side.

  Jenny halted, delight filling her. “Jack!”

  He didn’t smile.

  Blanche and Emma pushed into the room behind Jenny, making her hoops sway. “Jack!” Emma squealed and leapt at him.

  Jack caught her and lifted her high into the air before settling her on his knee and tipping her chin up to examine at her. “You’ve grown again, Miss Emma!”

  Blanche hugged him from behind. “You didn’t come home for Easter!” she accused him.

  “I was working,” Jack told her. “While you were chasing rabbits, I was deep underground, digging in mud.”

  “You were not,” Blanche said stoutly, with a wise expression. “You’re a Baron!”

  “Lords can muck about in mud just like other people,” Jack told her gravely. “It’s a mistake to think they can’t. And I am not a Baron yet.”

  Blanche’s eyes widened. “Then you really were in mud?”

  “That is what an engineer does,” Jack assured her.

  “Ugh.” Blanche shuddered.

  Jack met Jenny’s eyes and shook his head. It was the tiniest movement.

  Jenny understood. Now was not the time. Normal family concerns must come first.

  She withdrew and went to her room to see to the unpacking of her trunks, content to bide her time.

  Only, family concerns filled all the time there was. It seemed to be impossible to find a space where there was not another person or a servant. There was no corner of the big house where they could be alone and avoid interruptions.

  Every time Jack drew her aside, into the smallest private corner, someone would call for one of them.

  After supper, the children were tired enough to go to bed without protest and the adults settled in the drawing room for after-supper drinks and conversation. Jenny crept into the morning room, which was cold and unlit, and waited.

  Jack found her there a moment later. He was a dark shadow among the black space of the room. His scent was comforting and his lips warm and firm.

  They came together. Jenny’s body ached with the pleasure she had missed in the weeks Jack had been away.

&
nbsp; “Jenny! Jenny! Where are you?” Elisa called from the drawing room.

  Jack hissed his frustration. “This is impossible,” he said, his voice ragged.

  “I must go to her,” Jenny warned him.

  “Two in the morning,” he said. “There is no one abroad at that hour. The library. Meet me there.”

  She nodded.

  He kissed her roughly and quickly. “Go,” he told her and pushed her toward the door.

  * * * * *

  Five Years Ago: The Wardell house, Grosvenor Square, London. April 1862. A few hours later.

  Jenny lit a candle and tied a wrapper firmly around her, then eased out of her room and down the stairs to the ground floor. She had barely been able to sleep, for fear she would sleep too deeply. Instead, she had turned the clock Jack had given her around to face the window so she could read the time in the moonlight. She waited for two o’clock to arrive.

  Now the time was here.

  She reached for the handle of the library door, only the door opened before she could touch it. Orange firelight spilled out. Jack eased the door open enough to admit her and glanced behind her, then pulled her inside.

  He shut the door, then locked it and put his back against it with a sigh. “Finally,” he breathed. He was still dressed in day clothes, although he had removed his jacket and cravat and the waistcoat was unfastened. She could see dark hairs on his chest, through the open neck of the shirt.

  Her heart fluttered at the sight.

  Jenny put the candlestick on the nearest shelf then turned to Jack, more than ready for another kiss. With a thrill, she realized that she was wearing no corsetry or linens, nothing but her nightgown and wrapper. She would feel every inch of him against her.

  Jack grabbed her arms and held her away from him. “Wait,” he whispered. He took her hands in his and held them, gripping hard. “We must talk first.”

  Jenny’s pleasure died. Jack wasn’t smiling. In fact, she couldn’t recall seeing him smile even once since they had arrived. “What is it?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Why do you look that way?”

  Jack drew her over to the small hearth. He’d lit a fire. The flames were the only light in the room beside her single candle. He’d pulled the two barrel chairs over to the fire and now he put her in the left-hand chair and settled on the edge of the other. Their knees brushed together as he leaned close to her.

  For a moment he didn’t speak. Then he let out a breath and looked at their joined hands. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

  Fear touched her. “You always say to start at the beginning and trace your way through to the end.” He’d told her that when she had examined one of his engineering diagrams and been bewildered by the lines and arrows and details.

  Jack nodded and lifted his gaze to meet hers once more. “The beginning…that would be last month.”

  Jenny nodded, trying to encourage him, for his voice was strained and her fear grew larger. “What about last month?”

  “I came to London for the opening of parliament.”

  Jenny nodded again. She knew this from his letters.

  “There was a supper. I don’t remember whose.” Jack let her hands go and ruffled his hair. In the firelight, his face looked drawn. “I was introduced to a man. Lord John Barstow, heir to the Marquess of Bedford.”

  “I know of whom you speak. I have never met him, though,” Jenny said.

  “He’s pleasant enough,” Jack said roughly. “He brought his sister, Mary, to the supper and introduced her to me.” He hesitated and met Jenny’s gaze.

  “You are introduced to eligible women all the time, Jack. Or would you prefer that I be upset about that?”

  “No, you don’t understand,” Jack said, his voice low. “It wasn’t a coincidence that Barstow took his sister to the supper. It wasn’t chance that led to our meeting. My father directed John to introduce himself. Specifically, to introduce his sister to me.”

  Jenny sat back, ice forming in her middle and making her tremble. “Your father…”

  “I’m not speaking of Vaughn,” Jack added.

  “I know.” The words would barely form. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? In a letter?”

  “I didn’t want to spoil your Easter,” Jack said. Then he shook his head. “No, the truth is, I didn’t think anything of it. Even with my father pulling strings all the way from India, I dismissed the matter. Barstow was almost apologetic about the introduction and blurted out about my father’s manipulations shortly after Mary was introduced to me. His father is in India, too, you see. Our fathers know each other. I can imagine the pair of them conniving in some Bombay palace, then sending letters to put it all in place.”

  “You received a letter…”

  Jack sighed. “It arrived later than it should have, I think. My father insists I propose to the girl.”

  Jenny wrapped her arms around her middle. The cold was spreading. “She is the daughter of a Marquess. It would be a suitable match.”

  Jack hissed impatiently. “It will never be a match, Jenny. My parents are always pressing for me to marry and produce an heir and so I will.” He reached for her hand.

  Jenny pulled her hand out of his reach. “They always press?”

  Jack griped the arm of the chair instead. “My mother, when she was here. Letters.” He shrugged. “They mean nothing.”

  “Nothing,” Jenny repeated woodenly. “Would that be the same nothing that forced Sharla to marry the Duke your mother selected for her?”

  Jack grew still. Wariness emanated from him, almost as noticeable as the heat from the fire. “No,” he said flatly. “Not like that.”

  “No? You’re the heir to the titles, Jack. You, more than Sharla, have a responsibility to marry well.”

  “I intend to marry you.”

  “I am a commoner.”

  “You’re beautiful and accomplished and admired across London. Men fight to win your attention.”

  Jenny drew back, startled.

  Jack nodded. “Did you think I would not notice? That I wouldn’t hear the chat amongst them? They don’t care that you have no title. You would be an asset on any man’s arm, only I want you on mine and my parents can go hang.” He reached for her hand and this time, he gripped it. “I will fix this, Jenny. I will. I will speak to my parents and settle the matter.”

  “That will take weeks,” Jenny pointed out. She thought of Sharla’s white face, the morning of her wedding, and the ghostly, silent way Sharla had moved through the days of her engagement, speaking to no one, while her mother stood by, watching like a hawk. “I think you underestimate your family’s determination,” she added.

  “I think you fail to understand mine,” Jack replied. He shook her hand. “I will marry you. Only, I must have time to deal with this, first. Then we can speak to Mama Elisa and your father. Will you give me the time, Jenny?”

  “You know I will,” Jenny said. “I would wait for you forever.”

  He cupped her face. “Thank you.” He grimaced. “I will write to them tonight.”

  Jenny got to her feet. The ice had extended to every extremity. She felt stiff and achy. “Then I will let you get to your letter.”

  Jack looked up at her, shock showing on his face because she was leaving. “Jenny…”

  “I have no illusions, Jack,” she told him. “You are a peer and I am a foundling of unknown heritage. No one in society would condone our match, although they would tolerate it if you forced the issue, because everyone likes you. Your parents are determined you should marry well, though. I am surprised that while she was here, you mother did not expressly forbid you from marrying inside the family. She made it clear she did not think much of us.”

  Jack jerked, as if she had kicked him.

  “She did, then,” Jenny breathed.

  “It doesn’t matter a damn,” Jack replied, his voice rough. “I choose you.”

  Jenny nodded. “Because I love you, I trust that you will do what you say, that yo
u will settle this with them. My love gives me hope where there is none.”

  “You know I will do anything—everything—to marry you.”

  “I know.” She bent and kissed him, then made herself straighten and leave.

  It was the start of a season that Jenny had believed would be a glorious one. Instead, the season stretched on. Another year of drawing rooms and balls and suppers and operas and exhibitions and racing and rowing…the events blended into one another, till Jenny could not tell them apart. She moved through the months, trying to cling to the sliver of hope Jack had given her that he would marry her.

  She could no longer kiss him whenever they had a moment alone. It was too painful to think that this might be the last kiss, that Jack might fail.

  As debutantes announced their engagement, as weddings were celebrated and society tsk’ed and tutted over the suitability of matches and the lineage of brides, the coldness Jenny had felt that night in front of the fire intensified.

  Who was she to dare think she could marry a peer? Jack’s family were well respected, even though his father was in trade. Jack had continued the family tradition by taking up a career in engineering, a profession that suited his intellectual inclinations. Society forgave him the foible and gentlemen eagerly hired him for his expertise and because he was “one of them”.

  As the summer waxed and waned, Jack grew more drawn and pale. Every morning at the breakfast table, Jenny would try to read the faces of the letters waiting next to his plate, to see if any of them were from India.

  On the days she spotted the foreign watermarks and the odd, yellow paper, Jenny would lose all appetite. She made herself stay at the table, her hand clenched around her teacup and watch Jack while he read the letter.

  Each time, he would look up from the sheet and meet her eyes, then shake his head.

  The battle of wills continued into August and the end of the season, when everyone was packing and preparing to return to their country homes. The train to Hertfordshire was full, the first class carriages all occupied.

  As the train neared St. Albans, Jenny saw Jack pass by her compartment. No one looked up from their books. Jenny got to her feet and moved out into the narrow corridor.