Part 4 (1/2)
Luke was well aware of Jack studying him. He also knew his friend wouldn't ask what had prompted his latest fall, so Luke was surprised when he heard himself blurt, ”I had a visit from Lady Catherine Mabry.”
Jack furrowed his brow. ”Mabry?”
”Daughter to the Duke of Greystone.”
One of Jack's eyebrows shot up. ”My, my. Aren't we keeping distinguished company of a sudden?”
”She wanted me to kill someone.”
His other brow shot up. ”Who's the unlucky bloke?”
”She wouldn't say.”
”I a.s.sume you declined to do her bidding.”
”You a.s.sume correctly.”
”Were you bothered that she had little doubt you could carry out her request?”
He was bothered by the fact that she thought he would carry it out. With no explanation, no justification as though he was a man accustomed to was.h.i.+ng blood off his hands. But he wasn't going to confess all that to Jack so he held his silence.
Jack slapped him on the shoulder. ”Don't be troubled, my friend. They're no better than we are; the only difference is we know it, recognize our faults, and readily admit to having them.”
”I'm supposed to be one of them, Jack.” But he'd never felt comfortable around them, never felt as though he belonged.
”But we both know you're not.”
Jack was the only one who knew the truth of Luke's deceptions, knew he'd pretended to recall what the old gent wanted him to.
”No, I'm not.”
”Don't know why you feel so d.a.m.ned guilty about it.”
”I grew fond of the old gent. It didn't seem quite right to deceive him.”
The old gent had loved Luke because he'd thought Luke was his grandson. It was one thing to fool someone into giving him a coin so his stomach wouldn't ache when he went to sleep that night. It wasn't quite as easy to swallow the notion that he had tricked someone into giving him his heart.
”You made him happy, Luke. It's not often that we're able to do something that causes a person to die as the old gent did, content and satisfied, knowing that his kingdom was safe in your hands-and believing that in your hands it rightfully belonged. Draw some comfort in that.”
He tried. He really did. ”I'm taking Frannie out for a while.”
Jack grinned c.o.c.kily, but then everything about him was c.o.c.ky and self-a.s.sured. He'd even swaggered when they were in prison, as though it were all a grand joke, when Luke had never been more terrified in his entire life.
”Finally going to do it, huh?” Jack asked.
”I think you've made enough money off me.”
”I'll never have enough, but you're right. I'm tired of collecting on this wager. It's grown boring. Go make her-and yourself-happy.”
That was Luke's plan as he strode through the establishment, briefly acknowledging those of his acquaintance, until he made his way to the back where he knew he'd find Frannie. She did her good works during the daylight hours, but at night she saw to Jack's books. She was sitting at the desk, with her hair pinned up in a no-nonsense type of bun. She wore her usual non-enticing clothing and yet he was enticed, as always.
”Good evening, Frannie.”
She glanced up, without being startled this time. He'd no doubt caught her before she'd immersed herself fully in the numbers.
”I expected you to come by sooner for an accounting of how I spent your donation.”
”I was occupied with other business. Besides, I told you that you didn't owe me an accounting. I was wondering, however, if you might be willing to take a ride with me in the coach.”
”Whatever for?”
”I just thought it would be nice to get away from Jack's books for a while. There's no fog yet and London at night can be quite breathtaking. I'd like to share it with you.”
”You sound so mysterious.”
”We've not had much time together of late, and I always enjoy your company, as you well know.”
”I could show you the children's home. The building is almost completed.”
”I'd like that.”
As she stood, she gave him the same sweet smile that always warmed him. He s.n.a.t.c.hed her shawl from the hat rack near the door and draped it around her shoulders. Then he extended his arm. Shyly, she placed her hand on his forearm. Neither spoke a word until they reached his coach and the footman opened the door. She halted as Luke was a.s.sisting her inside. Her smile bright, she looked back over her shoulder at him. ”It's filled with flowers.”
”Yes, I thought they'd bring you pleasure.”
”They must have cost you a fortune.”
He heard the gentle scolding in her voice. She didn't believe in frivolous spending, and her att.i.tude only served to diminish his pleasure at giving her a gift.
”I can well afford it, Frannie.”
”You're far too generous, Luke.”
Sometimes he didn't think he was generous enough. She climbed inside, and he followed, sitting opposite her, the fragrance of the flowers almost nauseating. An abundance of bouquets were arranged on either side of her. He'd have his footman carry them to her living quarters when they returned.
As the coach rolled along the street, the dim light of the lantern inside allowed him to have a shadowy view of her. He always took such delight in watching her, and the confines of the conveyance created an intimacy that he'd not been able to achieve while she sat at her desk with her ledgers before her. Leaning forward, he took her bare hands in his. While he knew it was improper for his bare skin to touch hers, it somehow seemed appropriate at this moment. He'd memorized Shakespeare's twenty-ninth sonnet to recite to her, but he suddenly felt that he should rely on his own words, as inadequate as they might be. ”Frannie, I adore you. I always have. Will you honor me by becoming my wife?”
Her smile withered, her fingers tightened around his. She shook her head jerkily. ”Luke, I can't,” she whispered hoa.r.s.ely, and he heard the terror in her voice.
He closed his hands more firmly around hers. ”Frannie-”
”Luke, please-”
”Frannie, allow me to finish.”
She nodded.