Читать книгу The Lady Who Drew Me In - Thomasine Rappold - Страница 10

Daisy’s dream for the day home was as dead as her reputation. No one would entrust her with the care of their children now. Tears welled in her tired eyes, but she brushed them away. She had to fix this.

During the long ride to Troy, she’d convinced herself she could. Her head swam with the memory of the stunned faces of those who’d witnessed Cuffy’s surprise appearance at the meeting yesterday—her ears buzzed with their gasps and hushed innuendos. Her stomach lurched. Those not present for the scene were sure to hear all. Felice Pettington would see to the task. Daisy uttered a curse at the loss of all she’d hoped so hard to attain.

The memory of the Palmers, the couple who’d taken her in and then tossed her away, incited her anger. To be rid of her in the wake of that horrible night, they’d shamed her into marrying a man more than twice her age. She’d had little choice in the matter, but she’d paid her penance for the scandal she’d caused by using her entranced drawing so frivolously.

And now here she was, being punished for using it to help a child. It was all so unfair… She glanced out the carriage window, felt the crush of her past all around her. Memories crowded the sidewalks and streets, surrounding her like an angry mob. Every familiar sight and sound was a reminder of the fire and all she strived so hard to forget. The lost lives, the guilt. Her life had been spared, but surviving the tragedy had changed her forever.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and she lifted her chin. The street lamps lining Troy’s Washington Square glowed softly in the early evening dusk as Daisy climbed from the carriage and made her way to the impressive brownstone. Inhaling a breath, she trudged up the stairs as though facing the gallows, and then rang the bell.

“Good evening,” she said to the elderly housekeeper who’d answered the door. “I wish to see Mr. Gallway.”

“I’m sorry, miss…”

“Mrs.” Daisy snapped. She forced a smile, reclaiming her manners. “Mrs. Lansing,” she said, calmly.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lansing, but Mr. Gallway is…” She glanced over her shoulder at the wide parlor doors. “Presently engaged.”

“But he’s home?”

The woman blinked. “Well, yes, but—”

“I must see him immediately,” Daisy said as she brushed past the sputtering woman and into the wide foyer.

“But he has instructed me not to disturb him.”

“Then you shan’t,” Daisy said. She tossed her wrap to a chair by the umbrella stand and marched down the hall.

“Mrs. Lansing…”

Ignoring the harried housekeeper chasing behind her, Daisy pushed open the heavy doors and charged into the room.

Jackson shot to his feet, eyes wide. “Mrs. Lansing.” His surprised expression deepened the stark blueness of his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. She’d almost forgotten how handsome he was. She managed to drag her gaze from him, glancing to his companion. The young woman lounging on the settee straightened, fluffing her skirts. Her pursed lips were painted with red lipstick, and her cheeks were flush from more than rouge.

“I tried to stop her, Mr. Gallway,” the housekeeper said, clenching her hands.

“It’s all right, Josephine,” he assured her before she slipped from the room.

Jackson strode toward Daisy. “I haven’t yet had an opportunity to review your late husband’s will.”

Two glasses of bubbling champagne sat on the table. “Yes, I can see you’re a busy man.”

He frowned at her sarcasm.

“But that’s not why I’m here,” she said. “I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

He stiffened, sobered by her tone. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”

The concern on his face almost made her feel sorry for the blow she was about to strike him. The lipstick stain on his cheek chased her sorrow away.

“I’m fine,” she said. “But I must speak with you.” She glanced past him to the woman on the settee. “Privately.”

The woman’s frown of displeasure at the interruption deepened.

“I’ll see Miss Swootz to her carriage,” he said. “Have a seat.”

He escorted the flamboyant Miss Swootz to the door, murmuring his apologies as Daisy settled into the seat the woman had vacated. The strong smell of perfume filled Daisy’s senses, fueling her ire. Had she really expected Jackson Gallway to be sitting home alone in front of the fire, nose buried in a book?

She huffed at the ridiculous notion of it, glancing toward the two champagne flutes. Despite all common sense, her body stirred at the memory of kissing him. The feel of his warm mouth on hers…the sting of his hasty rejection.

As though standing on the ledge of some dark precipice, she squeezed shut her eyes, praying for the strength she needed to jump—to deliberately plunge into the depths of future regrets.

Jackson returned to the room moments later, closing the doors quietly behind him. “Now, what’s the matter?”

She took a deep breath, straightening her spine. “I am ruined,” she said.

He blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“The entire town of Misty Lake knows we spent the night together.”

“How?”

Her temper flared at the note of skepticism in his tone. Did he think she was lying? “What difference does that make?”

“We were discreet. The situation cannot possibly be as bad as all that.”

“It is worse, I assure you,” she said. “Cuffy made a surprise visit to my meeting yesterday.”

“Cuffy?” He narrowed his eyes. “What happened?”

“He had my stocking. He—”

“Your stocking?”

“I’d forgotten it, and he found it in his bed.”

“Christ,” Jackson muttered. He sank into a chair across from her, completely deflated.

“He meant no malice of course, but everyone knows,” she said, staving back tears.

“That crazy coot.” Jackson moved to the settee to console her. “It’s all right,” he said, clasping her hand.

She relaxed, welcoming the familiar scent of him. Her body melted in the heat of his nearness, the solid grip of his hand. She nodded in relief. “I must admit I was afraid you wouldn’t understand.”

“Of course I understand.”

She placed her hand atop his, feeling so grateful. Hopeful. “Neither of us expected to marry under these conditions, but it’s the only recourse—”

“Whoa.” Retracting his hand, he shot to his feet. “Who said anything about marriage?”

She stared incredulously. “But you just said—”

“I said nothing of marriage.”

She frowned at his back as he turned away. He paced the floor, a caged animal desperate for escape.

“There must be some other way,” he said. “Something else we can do.”

She bristled at his audacity. While she’d expected his distress, she’d also expected he’d have the decency to try to hide it. “We can do nothing without risking Andy’s safety,” she said. “Not that disclosing the circumstances would change things. We spent the night together. Alone.”

The reiteration forced him to silence for what seemed like forever.

“I just need a minute to think,” he said, pacing some more.

“It’s all been arranged.”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to face her.

“Your brother took care of everything.”

Jackson frowned. “Of course he did. I’m sure Dannion was only too happy to help.”

That Jackson was now angry at Dannion as well fueled her ire. “He wasn’t the least bit happy about anything, I assure you. But he and Tessa will be here tonight. The ceremony will take place in the morning.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tomorrow. I will not return to Misty Lake as a scandalous widow. I can’t. I won’t.”

“And what about me?” he demanded. “I had plans for my life.”

“So did I,” she shot back. “And they certainly did not include getting married again. Especially to someone like you.”

He blinked at the insult before his face turned to steel. “And yet, here you are.”

“And here I will stay until you agree to do the honorable thing.”

He snorted. “The honorable thing.”

“A foreign concept to you, I’m sure. But you will do what is right.” She couldn’t help herself. “According to your brother you’ve been in need of rightening for quite some time.”

“Is that so?”

“He told me about the circumstances leading to the loss of your position at the law firm.”

The taut line of his mouth tightened. “I see.”

“We have no choice,” she said, veering back to the matter at hand. “We’ve made this mess and must now clean it up.”

“And how tidy things will turn out for you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“The Gallway name carries weight in Misty Lake.”

“No thanks to you,” she muttered.

He clenched his jaw. “Nevertheless, your plans for a day home stand a better chance with the Gallway name behind you. Not to mention your late husband’s funds become available upon your remarriage. You’ve read the will, surely you know this.”

While this was indeed a brighter side to the bleak predicament, she resented the accusation. She took a furious breath. “Now you listen to me, Jackson Gallway, and you listen good.” She took an imposing step toward him, pointing her finger. “This is as much your fault as it is mine. My reputation is ruined because I helped you. If you do nothing else in your roguish life, you will marry me. You will do the honorable thing, or so help you—”

“All right. All right.” He held up a hand.

“Will you do it, then? Will you marry me?”

His sudden smile took her by surprise. “Are you proposing to me, Mrs. Lansing?”

She frowned, exasperated. He’d resorted to humor to mask his fear, but he was clearly terrified.

“Will you?”

All amusement drained from his face. “Yes.” His blue eyes pierced her like daggers. “I will do the honorable thing. But let me make something straight.”

She swallowed at his somber tone as he stepped closer. She’d never seen him wear a more dire expression.

“There’s much you don’t know about me,” he said. “But what you do know is true. I am a rogue, and I live a roguish life. So as you consider this warning, consider this as well. Are you certain you want to marry me?”

* * * *

While Josephine showed Daisy to one of the guest rooms upstairs, Jackson poured himself a brandy, dreading Dannion’s arrival. Jackson could almost hear the censure in his brother’s booming voice, the smug “I told you so.”

Married. Damn Jackson’s foolish idea to take Daisy to Barston, and damn the stubborn woman for insisting she go. That she’d conspired with his brother made him angrier. She’d run to Dannion first, enlisting his support to ensure Jackson did the honorable thing. Not that he could blame her for securing reinforcements. She was too smart not to formulate a solid plan of attack.

Even so, their lack of faith in Jackson was like salt in the wound. Would his reputation as a rake always supersede all? He stiffened, clenching the glass in his hand. If so, perhaps his future bride was not as bright as he thought for binding herself to “someone like him.”

He knew she’d succeed with her plans for a day home somehow. Then there was the matter of her late husband’s estate. He sighed, unconvinced. Money was not the motivation behind their marriage but merely a fortunate benefit. She cared about children. She was protecting the boy by remaining silent, as he was. Jackson shook his head, his thoughts tangling into knots. None of this mattered now; the damage was done.

The whole point of solving the Morgan case was to pave his way to St. Louis. The urge to leave town right now to escape this debacle was hard to resist. A few short weeks ago he wouldn’t have thought twice about shirking a case—or a scandal. He dragged around that damn promise he’d made to Morgan like he’d now drag the shackles of a wife.

But it could be worse.

He had to admit, somewhere deep in his anger, thoughts of marriage to Daisy Lansing stirred a certain amount of excitement. Since she’d kissed him that night, soaking wet from the rain, he’d had one hell of a time keeping her out of his mind. His admiration of her remarkable ability was part of the attraction, and the intellect behind her lively eyes appealed to him as much as what lay beneath her skirts. He couldn’t remember ever being so affected by a woman. Even Miss Swootz hadn’t managed to divert his brain from thoughts of the beautiful widow.

Be careful what you wish for…

The phrase rang in his head almost as loudly as his mother’s words. Her constant reminders that he wasn’t a marrying man. According to her, he wasn’t a working man, either, and Jackson had made sure that most people agreed. He forced away thoughts of his mother and took a long sip of his drink. “To hell with them all,” he muttered.

The calming warmth of brandy flowed like blood through his veins, clearing his head. He was wrong to blame Daisy for their predicament. She’d wanted only to help. He’d brought this trouble to her, and she didn’t deserve it. It was all his own fault.

For once, he was involved in a scandal that wasn’t caused by his lust, and yet he would pay the price for the rest of his life. By this time tomorrow, he’d be a married man.

Proving Randal Morgan’s innocence had damn well better be worth it.