Simply Irresistible (6 page)

He sighed and sat back. He wasn't even sure why he was writing the damned letter when he and Captain Ford were due to leave within a day or two. But he still hadn't decided what he was going to do. Part of him yearned to join forces with Jeremiah and simply travel the world without any responsibilities or cares.

Could
he walk away?

Should
he?

A month at sea and the weeks at the plantation had given him plenty of time to reflect on his life and his situation. James's death and Jason's solid support had also allowed him to think about what he wanted for
himself
for the first time in his life.

It wasn't as though he didn't want to return to Abigail. He still felt as if he'd never completely recover from her loss. But what if he went back, and she had found another man? He didn't want to be the kind of man who used her guilt and obligation to her dead husband's lover to insist that she marry him or no one else. If she'd found someone, he would truly be pleased for her.

Another revolutionary thought struck him. He didn't have to go back to Abby, or Val, or Sara. They would take care of one another. Even more importantly, he didn't
need
them to survive. Despite everything, he hadn't succumbed to the temptations of opium or alcohol after Abby's dismissal. He wanted his friends, he
loved
them, but he would be successful and happy without them.

With a yawn, Peter sanded the letters, folded them both up and put them in his pocket. He was too tired to decide what to do now. He'd go to bed and sleep on the matter. The creak of a door opening overhead and the sound of footsteps made him pause at the bottom of the stairs. Was Jason finally giving in to his desire to be mastered by Jeremiah and offering himself up for punishment?

Peter kept moving up the stairs as he heard the low murmur of male voices. He almost wished they'd ask him to come and watch. He would probably enjoy it.

The smell of cigarillo smoke drifted past his nostrils and he went still. Altering course away from his own bedchamber, he went to check on Jason, who was not in his bed. Of course he wasn't. He was with Jeremiah, neither of whom had ever smoked a cigarillo in Peter's presence in their lives.

With a soft curse, Peter crept toward Jeremiah's bedroom and cautiously tried the door, which was locked. Without allowing himself to think further, he entered the empty guest bedroom beside Jeremiah's and walked along the upper balcony until he could step in through the open French windows.

The smell of sex greeted him, and the sight of a fully dressed Jeremiah, not wielding a whip but kneeling on the floor fucking a man with long black hair he held in his fist.

Peter closed the window and leaned against it until Jeremiah finished and finally looked up.

“Mr. Howard!”

Peter didn't smile. “Perhaps one of you would like to let me know what in
damnation
is going on.”

Chapter 6

“I'm grateful for everything that you and Valentin have done for me, Sara, but I do feel it is time for me to take Jamie home to Beecham Hall,” Abigail said firmly.

She was sitting with Sara in the drawing room of the Sokorvsky town house. It was late in the evening. Valentin had gone out to his club, leaving the ladies to enjoy a quiet night at home.

“Are you quite certain?” Sara sat forward in her chair, her hands clasped together on the roundness of her stomach. “I was hoping you would stay with me until this baby is born.”

“That won't be for months, Sara. I'll come back. I swear it.”

“It was worth a try.” Sara sighed. “You don't wish to stay until Peter returns either?”

“We have no idea if he plans to return at all.” Abby kept her expression and her voice even. “He always wanted to travel the world, and for the first time in his life he has the means and the opportunity to do so.”

“Do you not want him to come home?”

“I want him to be happy.” Abby said it with conviction.

“But Val and I assumed that his happiness was centered around you.”

Abby met her friend's concerned gaze. “Then perhaps you shouldn't assume such things. Peter deserves to be his own man.”

“You are very brave, Abby.” Sara shook her head. “I didn't cope very well at all when Val deserted me to go to Russia. I was almost ready to go after him.”

“And he would've respected you if you had done so.” Abby hesitated. “I don't
want
Peter to feel pursued, or that he
has
to come back and make things right for me because it is somehow expected. I want him to come back because he chooses to. I want him to want me for myself.”

“I understand.” Sara nodded. “That's exactly why, in the end, I waited for Val to make up his own mind and come back to me.”

“Peter's spent the whole of his life having others making choices for him—not all of them bad, and most of them offered with love, but still
their
choices.” Abby offered Sara a wavering smile. “I want him to be free.”

The sound of argumentative voices echoed up from the hall below. Sara looked around. “Were we expecting visitors? It isn't exactly the conventional hour to make a call.”

Valentin swept into the room and bowed to his wife and Abby.

“Lady Beecham? Would you mind coming down to my study for a moment?”

Abby rose to her feet, leaving her sewing on the chair. “If you wish. Is something wrong?”

“I'll leave that for you to decide.”

There was a grim note to Valentin's answer that made Abby pause and look across at Sara.

“Shall I come with you, Abby?” Sara asked.

Val took hold of Abby's elbow and steered her rapidly toward the door. “I'd rather you didn't, my lady. I'm sure Lady Beecham will tell you all about it later.”

Before she could utter a protest, Abby was marched down the stairs and into Valentin's study, where an unknown man awaited her.

“This is Lady Beecham,” Valentin said. “Now, what exactly do you have to say to her ladyship?”

The man bowed to Abby. “I apologize for disturbing you, my lady, but my time here in London is very limited and I could not wait to make an appointment.” He met her gaze. “I'm Jeremiah Hodges.”

Abby put her hand to her cheek as a thousand conflicting emotions ran through her. “Mr. Hodges? I am very pleased to meet you, even in such sad circumstances.” She extended her hand and he kissed her fingers. “How are you, sir, and what brings you to London?”

After a quick glance at Valentin, who obviously had no intention of leaving, Jeremiah lowered his voice. “I'm staying at the Rose and Crown off Pultney Road. I would be honored if you would agree to meet me there.”

Ignoring Valentin's attempt to answer for her, Abby nodded. “I would be most happy to do so. When would be a convenient time?”

 

 

The next morning, accompanied by her maid and trailed by one of the Sokorvsky footmen, Abby made her way into the small but respectable back parlor of the inn where Mr. Hodges was staying. Her maid set about refurbishing the meager fire and drawing the curtains, tutting at the dust she shook out.

Just as Abby had begun to believe Mr. Hodges had forgotten her, there was a knock at the door. It opened to disclose a young boy, who grinned at Abby and proffered her a folded note.

“Guv said to give the pretty lady this, so I reckon that must be you.”

Abby smiled and handed the boy a coin. “And you shall receive a sixpence both for your efficiency
and
your charming manners.”

He winked, pocketed the coin and ran off before Abby was able to ask him whether he required an answer. Turning her back on her maid, she opened the note and read the short message.

Abby took off her bonnet and laid her muff on the seat next to the fire. “Drat the boy for leaving so quickly. I need to answer this note.” She looked around the small parlor. “I wonder if the innkeeper has ink and paper.”

“Do you wish me to go and ask, my lady?”

“That would be very helpful, Maggie.” She smiled at her maid. “If I'm not here when you get back, I'll be using the necessary.”

“Yes, my lady.”

She repeated the same message to the footman stationed outside the door, who blushed a fiery red and obediently looked anywhere but at her as she headed back into the main part of the inn. Gathering her skirts in one hand, she went up the stairs and located Mr. Hodges's door. After a deep, steadying breath, she knocked twice.

She was pulled inside the room so quickly that she barely had time to register there was a hand over her mouth and a hard body pinning her against his. She tried to shriek and bite the man's finger, but he simply tightened his grip.

“Be still. I wish you to see something, and I don't want you to scream.”

She recognized Mr. Hodges's voice and stopped fighting as a man dressed in the simple clothes of a sailor with long black hair tied back at the nape and a full beard came out of the shadows behind the four-poster bed and stopped in front of her.

“Good morning, Abby cat.”

Shock made her sway back and forth in Mr. Hodges's grasp as he slowly uncovered her mouth.

His smile was as sweet as ever. “No, love. James died in the fire. He is buried in the churchyard near Trade Winds. For our purposes, he no longer exists.”

Mr. Hodges helped Abby sit down and went to lock the door. For a long moment she simply stared at James, drinking him in.

“I don't understand.” She turned to Mr. Hodges, who had come to sit beside James. “Did you plan this together?”

“No, Jeremiah didn't know anything either.” James grimaced. “I needed everyone to believe I was dead—especially Jeremiah, or he would not have been able to play his part so convincingly after my ‘death.' ”

Mr. Hodges looked straight at Abby. “If I'd known what he'd planned, my lady—the heartache and the pain he chose to cause us all—I would
never
have wanted James to go through with it.”

“So I did the right thing, didn't I?” James looked at them both and then sighed. “It's quite straightforward. James Beecham is dead. His son Jamie inherits everything in England, his wife is a widow free to marry her lover and ‘James' gets to live as humble John Smith, valet to Mr. Jeremiah Hodges.”

“But if you go back to Trade Winds, someone will eventually notice that James and John Smith are the same person.” Abby finally found her voice. “You are deluding yourself.”

“We don't intend to go back. Jeremiah already made his intentions to leave the island and travel the world known to the locals. The plantation is in the process of being sold to the fellow who owns the one next door. He wasn't keen on having to deal with a commoner like Jeremiah and was willing to pay a high price to get rid of him. We'll have more than enough money to live on for the rest of our days.”

“You planned this quite carefully, didn't you?” Abby stared at him and shook her head. “This is ridiculous.”

“It isn't, Abby. It's the only way that we can all be happy. James Beecham is
dead
. I
hated
being James. I loathed every minute of my existence. If it hadn't been for you and Peter setting me free, I would have been driven to doing something stupid.” He swallowed hard and continued more quietly. “Even if you don't choose to acknowledge that, as far as everyone else is concerned, James is legally buried and his son has inherited the title.” His expression grew stubborn. “I'm not coming back, Abby. I'm
never
coming back.”

“And what do you think of James's irresponsible scheme, Mr. Hodges?” Abby inquired tightly.

“I almost killed him the first night he turned up in my room,” Mr. Hodges admitted. “But I've had a long sea voyage to think matters through, and I cannot find fault with his plan. We can finally be together without anyone giving a damn. Who notices what secrets a man and his valet share, or even cares?”

James came to kneel at her feet and took her gloved hand. “And you, Abby, are now a widow and can marry Peter.”

She gently withdrew her hand from his. “Please don't decide my future along with yours. I can't stop you following through with this outlandish scheme, but I refuse to allow you to involve me in it.”

He blinked at her. “You don't want to marry Peter?”

“When I will know in my heart that I am committing
bigamy
?”

“Abby, don't be stupid. If I hadn't come and told you the truth, you would've gone ahead and married again, wouldn't you?”

“Possibly.” She glared at him. “And what would've happened
then
if you'd decided you wanted your old life back?”

“I do not want my old life back. Abby,
please
listen to me. I swear to you on everything that I am. I will
not
come back. I want Jamie to live without the shadow of my shortcomings looming over him. I want you and Peter to be as happy as Jeremiah and I am. And this is the best way to achieve it. I swear it!”

Abby looked away from his impassioned face and tried to gather her senses. James grabbed her hand and held it tight.

“If you let me go with Jeremiah, you will never have to worry about me again. I know he will take care of me.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I wish you hadn't told me.”

James snorted. “I told Jeremiah that, but he would not be swayed. He said I had deceived you enough, and that you deserved the truth.” He held her gaze. “And we used to be best friends, Abby cat. When I left, I promised you I would never lie to you about anything again, and I've kept that promise. For the first time in my life I will be
free.
”

“Lady Beecham, if it is of any comfort, I can confirm what James has said. I promise I will share the rest of my life with him until my last breath.” Mr. Hodges hesitated. “We only wish you to be happy as well.”

Abby nodded, aware of time ticking away, and that her maid would be wondering where she was. “When are you leaving?”

“Within the next few days, depending on the tides,” James said. He rose, too, and smiled at Abby, the lines of strain evident on his face. “Even if you don't believe me and you don't choose to marry again, you'll eventually realize I'm never coming back. You can't stop me. Perhaps in a few years you'll finally accept that I'm serious and forget I ever existed.”

“How could I do that when I'll be living in your house and at your expense for the rest of my life?”

“Not at my expense, at my son's, and I don't think he'll begrudge a penny of it.”

“You are
impossible
, James.”

He had the gall to grin at her. “I always have been, but for the first time in my life I have the chance to live my life as I want to. I'd be a fool not to take the opportunity.”

Abby shook her head again, and James's smile disappeared.

“There is one favor I would ask of you before we leave, Abby. Could you perhaps take young Jamie to the park one day so that I might see him from afar? It would mean a lot to me.”

Abby found herself glaring at him. “Why not come right up and speak to him? The poor child has no idea what his father looks like anyway.”

James looked away for a moment before returning his gaze to hers, his eyes bright with tears. “I'm more sorry about that than anything else in my miserable life. You have a right to be angry, Abby. And a right to protect your son.” He stepped back. “It was a stupid, sentimental and selfish idea. Please forgive me.”

With another ferocious glare, Abby went through the door Mr. Hodges held open for her and somehow found her way down the stairs. She caught a glimpse of the footman's startled face as she headed for the exit of the inn and kept going. Three steps outside the inn, she realized she couldn't be seen to be running anywhere. Even in a modest part of town like this there were curious glances at her agitated state.

“Damn him, damn him, damn him!” Abby muttered to herself as she strode purposefully through the park and sank down onto one of the benches that faced the lake. She smacked her gloved fist against the wood. “How dare he do this to me? Hasn't he done
enough
?”