Chapter Twenty-Three

After The Ball Is Over

With dead silence during the ride, Wolferton and his two ladies departed the coach. Halbert opened the townhouse door and took their cloaks and accessories.

Wolferton walked to his study door with heavy footsteps, then turned. “Camille, I’m about to have a few strong drinks. After Miss Moreux has explained the circumstances to you, perhaps you both would join me. I’m most interested to hear her fairytale.” He slammed the door.

At the liquor side-table, he poured a healthy four-fingers of cognac and fisted the glass tightly. He walked to the base of the stained-glass window to toast the Guardians. “This exchange should be of interest to you both. I look forward to your reaction.”

The moonlight lit the background. Between sips, he spoke to the images. “This could have been a ruinous mess. Jaclyn is a handful to control. Perhaps I approach this in the wrong way. Halifax is charming, a liar, a cheat, and a licentious rake intent on seduction. Tempted as I was to challenge him, a duel would raise questions. My role is of protector, defender of her virtue, and the man who wants to marry her off to someone else. You are my witness. I will kill him if he harms one hair on her head. My life is inconsequential since my conscience continues to remind me as if the emphasis is necessary. She has a future while I have a past. It’s an impossible relationship though I find myself intrigued with the potential, for the legend would indicate that she is predestined to belong to a worthy duke. Dare I hope I am that man?”

The wolf’s eyes winked a bright blue in response.

Wolferton paced to the fireplace and back. “How would I handle this if we were at war and I needed to eliminate a dangerous enemy? In wartime, to kill is honorable. In peacetime, it is murder despite the fact the scoundrel deserves such for his callous disregard of me and mine. Do I feel this way because I consider Jaclyn as more than my ward and have come to regard her as my possession?” The apparition wolf’s mouth flickered. “So you agree I have my motives confused?” Eyes blinked twice.

He spoke to the golden-boy angel. “Is it possible I look for redemption in a beautiful chaste woman?” Stark eyes fluttered three times.

“I used to have a blackened heart, but now it is redeemed. I’ve erased my past to embrace my future. Such a dilemma, and I’m open to all suggestions.” He went to the liquor cabinet and refilled his glass. “I wish you could give advice instead of your silent gaze. Your inability to communicate in speech forces me to think and rethink, for I’m tired of living with this yoke of shame.”

A knock sounded. Wolferton went to the door, glass still in hand. Camille stood at the entrance with Jaclyn behind her. “May we come in, Radolf?”

He stepped aside, and with a mock sweep of his left hand, gestured to the seats in front of his desk before he closed the door. Wolferton took one last look at the stained glass, which stood in mute witness of any decision he made.

Jaclyn spoke first. Tears rolled down wet cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he planned a rendezvous. But Your Grace, part was my fault because I did suggest I needed help and instruction. It was many days ago.” Her hands kneaded her silk dress, her discomfiture obvious.

“May I ask the kind of instruction you had in mind?” He arched one eyebrow, a signature reaction of his, and held her wide eyes, but she lowered her gaze.

“ I-I-I…”

“Go on, Miss Jaclyn. I can hardly wait for your pronouncement. Bloody hell, what kind of instruction?”

“You’ve raised your voice,” Camille said.

The glance he shot his sister was one of storm gale winds pelting a barren shore.

“How to kiss.” She sobbed and reached into her reticule.

Wolferton arose from his chair as if propelled by some force, pounded his desk with such ferocity it shook the inkwell and his glass. The ink stain and all it represented brought a memory to light. Then he wiped the image away.

“Kiss? Why? Was it your intent to seduce him into some untoward action?” His breath exhaled at the vision in his mind, and he clenched both fists at his sides.

“No,” she whispered. “I needed experience.” Again, she moved back into her chair and averted his gaze.

“Are you some strumpet that you need to know this before your marriage? Have I harbored a wild light-skirt all these years?” He turned his back, eyed the stained-glass window—amber eyes turned black. Once.

“I don’t know what a light-skirt is.” She sobbed.

“It’s cant for a prostitute.”

Her saucer-eyed stare of horror tortured him. Control. He needed to control his anger. He would only succeed to push her away, which was not his intent. Control, old chap.

Jaclyn arose from the chair, went to him and kneeled. “I am naïve in the ways of men. I wanted to learn some female wiles.”

“You have a candidate in mind?” he asked in a voice so low, the sound tore at him.

“I cannot lie. It is for my future husband.” She lowered her lids to the carpeted floor averting her eyes from his. “Something inside me has a curiosity about the happenings between a man and woman. How will I know if it is truly love? What is lust? I’m confused.” Her voice cracked, tears riveted down her cheeks. “Why do I always feel ashamed of my actions and have to apologize? Is there a demon inside me? I’m afraid to look in the mirror, because I don’t see me reflected. Just an image that is a stranger to me. Don’t look at me. I’m mortified, tired of humiliation. Perhaps I should have stayed in the convent.” She swiped at the tears. “Don’t hate me.” Jaclyn placed her hand strongly over her month in a gag.

“Jaclyn, your body is developing…maturing…it’s natural.” Camille went to her and lifted her from her knees. “Come and sit again.”

“I’m getting old? Then no one will want me.” More tears streamed accompanied with sobs.

“Any man would want you.” Radolf didn’t realize he spoke aloud.

“You don’t.” She sniffled.

If you only knew how much I want you.

“I did not go to the salon with any such intent but to advise Halifax to stop telling me his lies about someone I care about very much. He made a supposition. Now I realize that if you and Camille had not sought me out, it would have been disastrous. How could I know he would…misunderstand?”

“He didn’t misunderstand. Halifax is a sly cunning fox. He baited you in the hope he could compromise you and then force you into a marriage, not only because you are beautiful, but you have a handsome dowry.”

“You have nothing to say?” Wolferton turned to Camille in exasperation in a struggle for restraint.

“You’ve said it all, brother. This evening has been a strain on us. The night is late. Perhaps we should retire. Clearer heads will prevail tomorrow. Jaclyn has learned a strong lesson. Please remember they do not teach such etiquette in religious schools. They warn but do not explain. Any young girl would be curious.”

“You weren’t,” he retorted.

“Now you can read minds, brother?” This was said in a voice so crisp it would freeze fish to the bone.

Wolferton went to Jaclyn. “It is imperative that you understand that twice you’ve come close to ruination. The first was your venture out alone in a carriage with just your maid because you wanted to fly away. This more egregious situation of being found alone with a rake of Halifax’s reputation is even more serious. I…We’ve tried to understand that our societal rules may be new to you, but nonetheless, they must be obeyed. Tomorrow is a new day. I need time to think. Good night.” And not sure why, he gently kissed her forehead.

He made up his mind—if anyone were to instruct Jaclyn in the art of a kiss, it would be him, not Halifax. And sooner better than later, that was more than apparent. It also might have a delightful aftermath.