Lessons from a Scandalous Bride (Forgotten Princesses #2)(9)

She jumped as a gentle knock sounded at her bedchamber door. Setting down her brush, she bade entrance, assuming it was Berthe returning to see if she required anything else for the night.

Instead of the maid, she watched as the man who had sired her stepped inside her bedchamber. Jack Hadley. She felt none of her initial tension as she gazed upon the barrel-chested man. Over the months, they’d come to almost an accord. Not that she forgot or forgave him anything . . . but she acknowledged that he was a different man from that of twenty years ago. She saw regret in the worn lines of his face and longing in his eyes.

While it might appear that he longed for position and rank—which he ostensibly hoped to gain through marrying her to some titled lord—she sensed he longed for something else. Something more. A connection to others. Belonging. Money hadn’t bought him that yet. Even if he didn’t realize it, she suspected that was the true reason he had tracked her down. And not just Cleo, but two other illegitimate daughters. Jack Hadley wanted a family.

He nodded at her reflection in the mirror. “How was your evening?”

She turned to face him. “Fine, thank you.”

He looked as though he would like to say something more, but then shook his head as though thinking better of it. “Well, I won’t keep you. Good night.”

In the threshold, he suddenly stopped and turned. “You know . . . this courtship with the earl . . .” His voice faded away.

She nodded. “Yes.”

He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. She’d never seen Jack Hadley discomposed like this. But then, she seemed to be constantly reevaluating him.

“Yes?” she prompted.

“The earl is older than I am.”

A smile twitched her lips. “I’m aware of that.”

He looked rather pleadingly at her. “You’re a young woman, Cleo. You don’t have to settle on him. I realize he’s titled, but—”

“I’m quite satisfied with the earl’s courtship.”

Jack looked at her rather doubtfully. “Are you? Truly? Because I don’t want you to feel I’m forcing—”

“No one can force me to marry anyone.” She smiled at him with an arched brow. “Not even the great Jack Hadley.”

He snorted. “Well, your sisters seem to fear that I’m bullying you into this.”

“I’ll talk to them.” Or at least she would talk to Marguerite. She’d have to post a missive to Grier in Maldania.

He looked somewhat relieved at this and she suspected that they must have been badgering him a great deal over the matter. No one could understand her motives for accepting the earl’s suit. Which did not affect her one way or another. Her reasons were her own.

Jack stepped inside her chamber. “In fact, it’s rather nice having you about. I don’t see any point in your rushing into matrimony. The year you’ve been here has been . . . nice.”

“Indeed?” Despite herself, her heart thawed another notch. Her stepfather had never spoken a kind word to her. She really must be starved for a father’s care.

She quickly reminded herself that this is the same Jack who, a year ago, had been anxious to herd up his offspring and marry them off. Marguerite and Grier had actually obliged him—and rather quickly. Perhaps he regretted that now? Regretted that he didn’t have more time to acquaint himself with his other two daughters.

He looked a little lonely right then. And sad. Suddenly she had a notion of what might be bothering him. “Any luck on locating the Higgins woman?”

Several weeks ago, Jack had confessed he might have fathered another child with his former housekeeper. He sighed and shook his head. “The Pinkerton man I hired believes he may have found a lead on her. In Yorkshire.”

“I’m sure he’ll find her,” she murmured, even though she wasn’t certain of any such thing. She couldn’t help wondering whether this Higgins woman even wanted to be found. Her father believed he had sired a child with her, and perhaps he had. Perhaps she was happily married and wanted to forget Jack Hadley.

Staring at Jack, she felt a twinge of her old resentment. Jack had certainly been prolific in spreading his seed all about the country and leaving heartache in his wake. Still . . . if she had another sister or brother out there, she would like to know them.

Jack plucked at an invisible piece of lint on his sleeve. “Well, I won’t keep you from your bed.”

“Good night,” she murmured, watching him depart and musing over how she could not despise the man who had rejected her mother—and her. She had assumed the hatred would always be there.

When she first arrived, she had been quite willing to lay the blame for her mother’s wretched life at his feet. But Cleo didn’t have it in her to hate the man. At least her mother’s needs were being tended now. She also recognized that her mother had made her choices with open eyes. She’d known Jack Hadley was not the marrying kind and yet she’d gone to his bed anyway.

Her mother had paid for that mistake. And Cleo had learned from it. She would choose a different path. Even though she didn’t hate Jack any longer . . . she wouldn’t place her total trust in him. A smart, carefully chosen marriage would give her the lifelong security she sought.

Setting the brush down, Cleo used the small step stool to climb into bed. As she sank beneath the luxurious quilted silk coverlet, she marveled that this should be her bed—her life. She would never have to worry about an aching belly again.