Jack (The Jaded Gentlemen Book 4) Read online

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Belmont said. “Mothers can be quite—”

  “Maternal,” Mr. Belmont said, kissing his wife’s hand and keeping possession of it.Madeline finished her tea cake, which tasted less enticing than it had smelled—not quite sweet enough, a little too dry.

  “I realize I’m asking a lot,” Sir Jack said, “but there’s nobody else upon whom I can impose.” To Sir Jack, even soliciting advice would be an imposition.

  “You might need to hire a new butler,” Mr. Belmont suggested. “Or to clean house, figuratively. Nothing like making an example of a slacker to inspire good effort from those who’ve taken their posts for granted.”

  Sir Jack rose and went to the window, which looked out over a drive lined with maples. Though Christmas would soon be upon them, the autumn had been mild. Golden leaves carpeted the grass and clung to the branches, turning the afternoon luminous. One winter storm, one windy morning, and the last of the foliage and its brilliant light would be gone.

  Winter, for a man who’d spent nearly a decade in India, would be long and trying. For a woman who thrived on industry, winter in the Belmont household would be a cozy, peaceful, little slice of hell.

  “I had hoped Mrs. Belmont might speak to my housekeeper,” Sir Jack said. “Perhaps review Cook’s menus, organize the maids’ schedules, and have a word with Pahdi about the footmen’s responsibilities.”

  “Madeline looks after the menus for me,” Mrs. Belmont said.

  “And the maids here at Candlewick are on the schedule Madeline devised for them years ago,” Mr. Belmont added, the wretch.

  For years, Madeline had been Hennessey to him, and he’d been a widower distracted by grief, and by the need to parent two rambunctious boys. Madeline had enjoyed wayward notions where Axel Belmont was concerned—when she’d been young and foolish, and he’d been not quite as young, and devoted to his first wife.

  Sir Jack turned a considering eye on Madeline. “One senses Miss Hennessey is competent at all she turns her hand to.”

  Oh, no, Miss Hennessey was not. In the opinion of her aunts, Madeline had failed utterly to make a good match. Sir Jack was guilty of the same shortcoming, but being a man, nobody would dare chide him for it.

  Then too, he was the magistrate. Madeline was not overly fond of the king’s justice or those who claimed to enforce it.

  “What you need,” Mr. Belmont said, “is a second-in-command or aide-de-camp.”

  Fortunately, Madeline was neither of those things. “Do you mean a house steward, Mr. Belmont?”

  Mr. Belmont studied her with the unblinking scrutiny he turned on his botanical specimens, and Madeline abruptly felt like one of those blooms. Torn from the vine, helpless to avoid visual dissection under Mr. Belmont’s quizzing glass.

  “Not a house steward,” Mrs. Belmont said. “Sir Jack, does your mother travel with a companion?”

  Sir Jack folded his arms and leaned back against the windowsill. He was indecently handsome in his riding attire. Tall and lean, tending to casual elegance and soft edges that gave him a deceptively comfortable look. Madeline had seen him on darts night, though, with his cuffs turned back, his gaze fixed on the target.

  Though a notably retiring man, he was a good neighbor, a conscientious landlord, and a reliable partner for the wallflowers at the local assemblies.

  And his darts team always won, provided his teammates were at least half-sober.

  “My mother does not have a companion that I know of,” Sir Jack said. “She has scores of friends in London, and claims they provide her adequate company. One does not argue with my mother and come away unscathed.”

  One didn’t argue with Sir Jack either. Madeline couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen somebody even make the attempt.

  “The older ladies need to be charmed,” Madeline said. “We think because they’ve lost their youth that they’ve lost their taste for flattery, and that’s not so. They need the silly banter and the sincere compliments all the more for being at a lonelier time of life.”

  Both men regarded Madeline as if she’d just described how Napoleon might have won the Battle of Waterloo. Mrs. Belmont lifted the lid of the teapot and peered inside.

  “I have an idea,” Mr. Belmont said, and Madeline stifled the urge to break the teapot over his helpful head. Whatever his idea, it did not bode well for her.

  “Mr. Belmont,” his wife said, “I believe I will be exceedingly impressed with this idea.” She beamed at her husband, and he… Axel Belmont was not capable of simpering. He was well over six feet, blond, muscular, academically bright, and tough as only the father of both adolescent boys and a newborn could be.

  He beamed back at his wife, their mutual regard as luminous as the last of the leaves beyond the window, and far more durable.

  “Madeline must join your household as a temporary companion to your mother,” Mr. Belmont said, sounding pleased with his own genius. “She will have your domestics sorted out, and even you will not grasp quite how she accomplished that miracle.”

  Madeline choked on the last of her tea cake, only to have Sir Jack return to her side and thump her soundly on the back.

  “Belmont, not well done of you,” he said, whaling away between Madeline’s shoulder blades. “Your henwitted notion has clearly upset Miss Hennessey.”

  Madeline waved Sir Jack off, though he remained right where he was. “I’m fine,” she rasped. “A crumb—something—went down the wrong way.”

  “Madeline is surprised that I had a good idea, is all,” Belmont said. “I haven’t come up with a good idea since—”

  “This morning,” Mrs. Belmont interjected, smiling at her tea service.

  An odd silence germinated, then expanded, while all eyes fixed on Madeline, as if she hadn’t been sitting on the very same sofa for the past five minutes.

  “Mr. Belmont’s idea is not henwitted,” she said, “but neither is it well thought out. With the holidays approaching, and more Belmont family visiting from Sussex, we’ll have much to do here at Candlewick.”

  “We’re not hosting a royal progress,” Mrs. Belmont said. “Matthew and the boys consider this their second home. And Sir Jack’s mama isn’t coming until after Christmas.”

  Madeline had a sense that a significant shift in household affairs had happened without her noticing. One moment, her praises were being sung, the next, she was being pushed down the drive.

  And all the while, Sir Jack studied her as if she were the center ring on a championship dartboard.

  “Candlewick is my home,” Madeline said, indignation warring with panic. “Are my services no longer required?”

  Her services had lately included everything from supervisor of the nursery maids, assistant to the housekeeper, confidante to the cook, and cribbage partner to the butler.

  “Of course this is your home,” Mrs. Belmont said, in soothing tones that reassured Madeline not one bit. “We would miss you terribly if you accepted another post, but Sir Jack is our dear friend, and he has sought our assistance.”

  He’d sought the Belmonts’ assistance, and he was no friend to Madeline.

  “The situation would be temporary,” Sir Jack said. “My mother has never stayed more than two or three months.”

  In other words, the daft man was considering this scheme.

  “I take it she’s managed without a companion in the past,” Madeline said. “Might she be insulted at your presumption, choosing a companion for her now, Sir Jack?”

  “My mother enjoys a state of chronic affrontedness, probably much like your Aunt Hattie. By selecting a companion for her, I will conveniently indulge her gift for finding insult where only consideration was intended.”

  “And I’m to be the insult you offer her?”

  “One of many, I’m sure,” Sir Jack replied. “The food, the bed hangings, the placement of the candles on my library mantel, the tone in which I address my servants, or the fact that I address them at all… My ability to disappoint my mother i
s as limitless as—”

  He fell silent, but not soon enough to mask an air of genuine exasperation. Madeline had a premonition of winter evenings in Sir Jack’s library. He’d be happily engrossed in some old soldier’s literary reminiscences of war, while his poor mama went barmy from boredom.

  “Perhaps you should dissuade your mother from visiting at such a dreary time of year,” Madeline said. “You might remove to London yourself, and thus have the ability to come and go at the times of your own choosing.”

  Mr. Belmont poured his wife a second cup of tea and helped himself to a lemon biscuit. “Mothers, in my experience, don’t take kindly to attempts to dodge an inspection. If Sir Jack went on evasive maneuvers, she’d redouble her pursuit.”

  “Quite,” Sir Jack said. “Though I suspect Belmont’s older sons would attribute the same tenacity to their own dear papa, whose fixity of purpose puts one in mind of a cocklebur. Miss Hennessey, might I tempt you into a position as my mother’s temporary companion? You could reconnoiter the situation below stairs, gather intelligence, confer with Mrs. Belmont, and make some suggestions? I would be most grateful.”

  Madeline did not want Sir Jack’s gratitude, nor did she care for his own impersonation of a cocklebur.

  “You really must take pity on a clueless bachelor,” Mr. Belmont said. “One has a Christian duty, Miss Hennessey, and the members of Sir Jack’s staff will thank you for it. A household in disarray is not a happy situation.”

  Madeline had no use for happy situations, though she did fancy having a roof over her head and a meal or two each day. She did not fancy a post under Sir John Dewey Fanning’s roof.

  “I am flattered, of course,” Madeline said, “but the nursery maids here are both new to their duties, and with colder weather approaching—”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Belmont interjected. “You’ve trained them wonderfully, and the baby is thriving. You made an excellent ladies’ maid when I was widowed, and you were the housekeeper’s right hand here at Candlewick before that. Your aunties treasure you, though they hardly have a kind word to say about anybody. A temporary change of scene will do you good.”

  More beaming went on, while Madeline wanted to pitch this brilliant idea through the window. The Belmonts were good, kind people with whom Madeline could speak her mind. They valued a cheerful staff and yet tolerated no misbehavior toward the female domestics.

  Madeline liked them. The realization was disconcerting, particularly when she did not like Sir Jack.

  Though she didn’t dislike him, exactly.

  “You are not taken with the idea,” Sir Jack said, a monumental understatement. “I am prepared to be generous, Miss Hennessey. Desperately generous. You see before you a man with no pride.”

  Madeline saw before her a man with no scruples and less charm. “Part of the reason your household is at sixes and sevens, Sir Jack, is because you’re the magistrate. You hold parlor sessions some weeks, but not others. Your schedule isn’t your own, and if a serious matter comes before you, it absorbs all of your attention. Mr. Belmont was the same way when he was the magistrate.”

  “She’s right,” Mr. Belmont said, around a mouthful of shortbread. “Damned job wrecks a fellow’s peace when folk are naughty. When livestock are naughty too. Your mama won’t be keen on you riding off at all hours to investigate the love life of Hattie Hennessey’s ewes.”

  “Belmont,” Sir Jack said, “need I remind you from whom I inherited the magistrate’s position?”

  “And you’ve never thanked me for stepping down, you ingrate. Miss Hennessey will take pity on you, because she’s soft-hearted.”

  That was the outside of too much. “I’m not—”

  “You spoil your aunties rotten,” Mr. Belmont went on. “You spoil us rotten, the boys, the baby… Spoil Sir Jack’s mama, plant a few ideas in his housekeeper’s head, marvel at his cook’s syllabub, and inflict your flirtations and lectures on the footmen. Work your magic, and you’ll soon have his household running as smoothly as you do Candlewick.”

  Madeline opened her mouth to scold her employer for that bald overstatement—Candlewick had a superbly competent housekeeper and equally talented cook, though both women were getting on. What they lacked in energy, they made up for in experience.

  “You flatter me shamelessly, Mr. Belmont.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  “I would,” Sir Jack said, “if I thought it would inspire you to take this post. You’ll have my undying gratitude, a glowing character, the gratification of fulfilling a much-needed office—”

  “And his coin,” Mr. Belmont said. “Lots of coin, such as no sensible young woman refuses.”

  Madeline was no longer young. Somewhere between fending off the callow swains in the churchyard—most of them, anyway—and passing every penny she could spare to her aging relatives, she’d made her peace with reality. She worked hard—she’d always work hard—and if she was lucky, she’d have a little coin to see her through when hard work was beyond her.

  “I hazard to point out that your aunts would tell you to take the offer.” Sir Jack wasn’t teasing or exaggerating. He was making the one argument Madeline could not refute. Hattie would wax scathingly eloquent if Madeline turned up her nose at a chance to be the companion of a true lady.

  And Sir Jack was offering only a temporary position, nothing more.

  Had Aunt Hattie’s spring crop of lambs not depended on a wandering ram, Madeline might have refused, but Aunt’s situation had been growing dire. Theodosia’s finances teetered close to desperate and had for years.

  Madeline would not even have a widow’s mite to get her by in old age, as her aunts often reminded her.

  “I will be your mother’s temporary companion,” she said, “and if I see problems with how the household is managed, I will bring them to your attention as discreetly as I can.”

  Sir Jack took her hand in both of his. “My relief beggars description.”

  Madeline snatched back her hand. “My requirements for taking the position can be articulated fairly easily, if Mr. and Mrs. Belmont would excuse us for a few minutes?”

  The Belmonts were on their feet and halfway to the door before Madeline had finished speaking. Their haste put her in mind of parents affording privacy to a young lady and a marriage-minded suitor.

  Which analogy was just plain ridiculous.

  Chapter Two

  * * *

  Winning a battle was only half a victory, as any soldier knew. The conquered territory must be held when the guns went silent, and the populace brought under the victor’s rule, which could be harder than prevailing in combat.

  Madeline Hennessey had acquiesced to the scheme Axel and Abigail Belmont had hatched, and so had Jack.

  May God have mercy on his soul, for Miss Hennessey radiated discontentment. “What are your terms, Miss Hennessey?”

  She rose, and Jack did as well, not only because a gentleman stood when a lady gave up her seat. Madeline Hennessey was tall for a woman, possessed of glorious red hair, a fine figure, and lovely features. Jack wanted to be on his feet when they parlayed.

  Her looks were striking, which a plain cap, severe coiffure, and utter lack of adornment only accentuated. Jack was honest enough to admit that in a small way, he enjoyed watching her, watching the woman who’d quietly kept a widower’s household running while offending none of his more senior retainers. The same woman who’d become a ferocious ally to Mrs. Belmont when her prospective husband had been slow to offer marriage.

  Madeline Hennessey was fierce, in other words, and that quality earned Jack’s respect as generous curves and winsome smiles never would. That same fierceness put his guard up too, of course.

  “I’ll want a bedroom on the same floor as your mother,” Miss Hennessey said, “though I don’t expect to be housed in the family wing. Stairs are the very devil when you must traverse them at all hours of the day and night.”

  “Easily done. What else?”

  “Sun
day and a half day off each week, and such other time to myself as your mother allows.”

  “My entire staff has Sunday and a half day each week. Those who’ve been with me for more than five years have a guarantee of evenings free as well, provided their assignments are complete.”

  She left off studying a sketch of some wild rose or other growing by a still pond. Belmont had likely done the drawing himself.

  “How does anything get done after sundown, Sir Jack?”

  “The junior staff tend to it.” As far as he knew. He hadn’t asked directly, lest his butler take offense.

  “And when your junior staff have all been with you more than five years?”

  “The junior staff don’t stay a full year of late. Perhaps you’ll be able to change that.”

  “How long will your mother bide with you?”

  Too long. “Mama is a force of nature. She comes and goes as she pleases, and one doesn’t—that is, I do not—presume to interfere with her plans.”

  Miss Hennessey folded her arms. “The household belongs to you, Sir Jack. Out of respect for you, your family must apprise you of their plans. How else is the staff to accommodate your guests, much less anticipate your needs?”

  At least she’d left off studying Belmont’s artistry. “Nobody in the entire shire will be left in doubt regarding my mother’s needs, wants, opinions, or desires. I joined a regiment bound for India, very much against her wishes, and nearly twenty years on, I’m reminded regularly of what a naughty boy I was.”

  “You are not a boy.”

  And Miss Hennessey was not offering him a compliment. “Neither am I quite doddering, madam. What are your other demands?”

  He’d meet them, whatever they were. The longer Jack conversed with Miss Hennessey, the more he was convinced she was the answer to his domestic prayers and an able match for Mama.

  That Miss Hennessey was reluctant to take the post only attested to her good sense.