Gallant Waif by Anne Gracie (the alpha prince and his bride full story free .txt) 📗

none the worse, to take up her life elsewhere. At least this time, with a substantial income at her disposal, she would not starve.

Not for food, anyway.

She focused back on the scenery flashing by, becoming aware that her hands were very cold. Fishing around in her small travelling bag, she pulled out a pair of gloves. Kate looked at them. They were a very large pair of gloves, well-made leather, worn and soft, fur-lined. A gentleman’s gloves. Only yesterday Jack had noticed how cold her hands were and had given her his gloves to wear. She must have forgotten to give them back to him.

Small frozen hands slipped into the big furry gloves, taking comfort from the size, the scent, the warmth of them. She rested her cheek in one gloved hand; the other was cupped against her heart. She leaned against the hard corner of the travelling chaise and closed her eyes. Finally, cradled in Jack Carstairs’s gloves, Kate slept.

“Quiet, ain’t it?” murmured Francis. He glanced across at his companion. Kate had left almost a week before, her face white and set, her eyes tragic. Since that day, Jack had spent his time furiously riding about the countryside, pushing himself to the absolute limit, galloping recklessly as if invisible demons were pursuing him. And in the evenings he got silently, determinedly drunk.

Francis had accompanied him in all things, understanding Jack’s need to purge himself of the excess energy, to tire himself out, to blot a certain woebegone little face out of his memory, to try to drown his guilt. For a time at least.

“Got something to say to you, old man. Don’t think you’ll like it. Going to say it anyway.” Francis drained his glass.

Jack glanced at his friend in disgust. “You’re foxed.”

Francis nodded. “Probably. So are you,” he said. “Still going to say it.”

“Well, for God’s sake just spit it out, then, instead of rambling on.”

“All right, then. Think you did the wrong thing. Shouldn’t have forced her to go.”

Jack swallowed the contents of his own glass and slammed it down on the table at his elbow. “Oh, God, not you too. As if it isn’t bad enough, the whole household looking at me as if I’d taken the girl out, slung a brick around her neck and drowned her in the river. Damn it all!” he exclaimed. “It’s for her own good! Not a blasted Cheltenham tragedy… Anyone would think I’d sent her off to her own execution!”

“Well, you just might have, old man,” said Francis, after a pause.

Jack swung round in his chair. “What the devil do you mean by that?”

Francis didn’t answer immediately. He got up and poured another measure of brandy into both glasses. He caught Jack’s eye. “Planning to get us both stinking drunk,” he said. “Tell you something in strictest confidence, old chap. Delicate matter. Concerns Kate.”

Jack frowned. “If you mean what happened to her on the Peninsula, I know about it.”

Francis nodded thoughtfully. “Told you in the carriage, didn’t she? Thought that was it when I saw your faces that day.”

“So full marks for observation,” muttered Jack sourly.

“Brave little soul. Very painful to bring that sort of thing up again.” Francis added, “Probably frightened that you’d despise her, too.”

“Despise her? Despise her?’ Jack’s voice was angry. How could anyone despise Kate? “What the devil do you mean?”

“Not saying I do,” interjected Francis pacifically. “Not saying anyone should. On the contr’ry. I’m talkin’ about what she thinks. Thing is, it damned well looked like you couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Less than twenty-four hours after you find out she’s been… sullied… by a Frenchman, you bundle her out of the house. Girl probably thinks you do despise her. What else is she to think?”

Jack whitened. “She wouldn’t…she couldn’t…”

“Nothing to indicate she don’t,” said Francis quietly. “Didn’t exactly make it clear to her, did you? Threw her out, not to put too fine a point on it.”

“But I…”

“Oh, yes, I know what you were about, but did she?”

Jack groaned and clutched his hair in anguish.

“Expects to be despised, you see. Happened before. Lost her betrothed for that reason. Not saying that was a bad thing, mind you—chap wasn’t good enough for her. He’d known her all her life, childhood sweetheart sort of thing. Didn’t stop him despising her after the scandal. Fellow called off the wedding on account of it. And most people thought he did the right thing.”

Jack groaned again. “I didn’t know…didn’t think…”

“Thing is, the story got out and all the cats got stuck into her in the most appalling fashion.”

“My God.”

“Things some of them said to her would make your hair curl. Ha! The gentler sex! Bitches carved young Kate up in the most vicious and cold-blooded fashion, and all the time with the sweetest smiles on their faces. Held her to be a traitor because she nursed wounded French soldiers. Claimed she went with them willingly. Called her a whore behind her back…and a few said it to her face. And all with such smiling politeness and seeming sweetness… I tell you, Jack, it almost put me off women for life. The gentler sex.” He shuddered.

The beautiful, hypocritical face of Julia Davenport appeared in Jack’s mind. “I know just what you mean,” he muttered grimly. The two men sipped their brandy. The flames danced in the grate.

“Thing is, same thing could happen in London. Some of the tabbies in Lisbon last year are bound to be in London now. Even if they aren’t, you know what women are like for writing letters. Bound to be someone who knows the story. Come out sooner or later, I’d say—just a matter of time.”

Jack was too appalled to speak. He felt as if his stomach had dropped out of his body. Oh, God, no wonder she’d looked as if she was going to an execution; she would have an axe suspended over her head the whole time she was in London, and it was only a matter of time before