She inhaled and then exhaled slowly. “You promise never to use slaves. Ever.”
She watched as his jaw tensed, his whole person really. “I’ve already addressed this with you—”
“Then I shall return to Philadelphia, with or without your permission, and I will do everything I possibly can to discredit Jackson Whiskey. I dedicate myself to protesting the president and all aspects of slavery. I will write articles for the papers, I will go to your competitors. I will—”
“God damnit, Charley. Fine.”
Charley nearly tripped over her own feet. “What did you say?”
“I said fine. I’ll not use slaves. Will that make you happy?” Large wrinkles furrowed his brows and frown lines carved out the bottom half of his face, but…
A little flutter of excitement danced up her spine. “Excellent.” She knew better than to make a big deal out of his capitulation.
And then he turned his head to stare off into the distance. “Your mother didn’t like it either.” Charley’s heart stopped at the reminder. How had Charley forgotten something like that? A burning feeling settled in her chest and her eyes stung.
“Was that why she didn’t like living in America?” Not simply because it wasn’t proper enough? The hope that she’d had something so important in common with her mother was… everything.
The revelation nearly sent her reeling.
“It was one of her reasons. She insisted that it was inhumane, pointed out the laws England was passing to stop the slave trade. Said she’d take you and never come back if I so much as put a single slave to work… She was already gone when I seriously contemplated it.” He shook his head, as though to dismiss his melancholy, and then held her gaze with his. “Sometimes you are so much like her… Don’t know what I’ll do without you, despite you being a giant thorn in my side. But always know you are everything I could have ever asked for in a daughter. I’m so damn proud of you, Charley.”
Upon hearing these words, the stinging in her eyes gave way and long-suppressed tears streamed down her face. It was the most personal thing he’d ever said to her.
He’d never told her he was proud of her. Not once. In all this time…
“I love you.” Unable to contain herself, Charley flung herself across the few feet that separated them and buried her face against his shoulder. When his arms wrapped around her, she cried even harder. “I’m going to miss you dreadfully.”
They stood there for all of a minute, which might as well have been a lifetime for her father, before Charley pulled herself together and, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, stepped back.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“Your third condition?”
She swallowed the huge lump of emotion that had formed in her throat and nodded. “Just that you visit England, or Jules and I come to Philadelphia, at least once every five years. I won’t have my children not knowing their grandfather.”
His brows shot up. “Jules, eh? Not His Lordship? That sounds awfully familiar.”
And damned if that didn’t send a flush to her cheeks. Because she and Jules were becoming quite, quite familiar with one another.
“The wedding’s in two weeks,” she confessed.
And with that, the American Whiskey King threw back his head for the second time that morning and roared with laughter. “Double-crossed by my own daughter.” But his eyes twinkled when they landed back on hers.
Charley reached a handout, “We have a deal then?”
Shaking his head ruefully, her father grasped hers and gave it a shake. “That we do, Charlotte Arabella Jackson. I believe we do.”
Jules smiledto himself from where he watched Charley and her father through the window. Although several yards distant, he could make out that they were shaking hands, and by the skip in her step, she seemed quite pleased with herself.
Seeing her happy squeezed his heart. He’d spend the rest of his life doing whatever was required to ensure that she never regretted marrying him.
“Stone insists that you cannot balance two balls on top of one another.” Chase’s voice taunted him from across the room.
“Doubting me, Spencer?” Jules turned his back to the window as the soft music Peter had been playing on his cello went silent.
“It’s physically impossible.” Mantis studied the felt surface with a scowl.
