Here were questions she would never have an answer for because Jack was not here. Oh, what she would give to have him in front of her.
Or to be able to give him a shake and tell him how rotten she thought his treatment was of everyone who cared for him, most of all her.
Or did he think she preferred the duke? There was a thought she had not considered.
Char rose to her feet and paced the length of her room, practically distraught over the idea that perhaps Jack hadn’t realized the depth of her affections for him. By the time she had reached the other side of the room, she’d discarded that worry.
Jack had known she cared. He. Knew. And there was no excuse to leave the country without telling her.
Her eye went to her open wardrobe door. The wardrobe where her breeches and boy’s disguise were still hidden.
The house was quiet.
A daring plan took form in her mind. Jack owed her an explanation and there was only one way she could receive it. Furthermore, she owed him a good setdown.
Before she could question the wisdom of her actions, Char pulled her breeches from the wardrobe and began changing.
The Horse and Horn was not that far from Mulberry Street. She would say what she had to say and be back in an hour.
However, to give herself time in case Sarah decided to check on her, Char used her cloak to create the impression that there was a body in her bed under the sheets. She quickly braided her hair, wrapped the braid around her head, pinning it carefully in place, and pulled her wide-brimmed felt hat low over her eyes.
She blew out the candle and tiptoed down the stairs. Cold air rushed through the house when she opened the door, but it did not deter her. She took off into the night with one thought in mind—to find Jack Whitridge and let him know one didn’t trifle with Charlene Blanchard and walk away.
Chapter Seventeen
Jack could say that he had given Gavin’s men a good fight. In the wee hours of Monday morning, when Henry and the footmen had escorted him to the inn, Jack had been compliant. Why should he not be?
However, when he saw Perkins and realized the intent was on keeping him prisoner in a locked storeroom in the basement, Jack’s good humor ended. Then they had a fight on their hands, right there in the public room of the Horse and Horn.
Jack was proud that his first blow broke Perkins’s nose. He might have broken a few more in the melee. In the end, they had overpowered him. It had taken six grown, strong men. They had accomplished what the Seven had been unable to do.
Of course, no one witnessing the fight offered to help Jack. Certainly not Silas or Matthew. Silas had actually watched the furor as if pleased. Jack didn’t know where Matthew was. Probably playing with his knobby. That took up most of his brainpower as it was.
The footmen had bodily carried him down a set of stairs and had thrown him into a storage room full of odds and ends like brooms and buckets. There was a window, but it was close to the ceiling and too small for a grown man to climb out of. They hadn’t been too nice about tossing him in, either.
Jack had landed heavily on his shoulder. He’d stayed where he was, bruised and humiliated.
Perkins had knelt over him, a kerchief held up to his bloody nose. “Rest easy. We’ll come for you before your ship leaves Tuesday evening on the tide.”
“My meeting,” Jack had ground out.
“There is no meeting. His Grace canceled it.”
Perkins left the room. A key turned in the lock and Jack lost consciousness. When he came to his senses, the light from the window let him know that Monday was well advanced.
He had tried to escape but there was no way out that he could find. He’d banged on the door to make a disturbance that could have caused attention to his plight but no one came. He had tried to barge through it. He had then threatened and cajoled and prayed... and still he’d been trapped.
That Gavin had done this out of jealousy gnawed at Jack. His mother had been aware of the argument. Did she know about this as well?
Damn his family. Damn all of them.
Evening fell. Daylight through the window was replaced by pale winter moonlight.
Gavin would be dining with Charlene. He was probably telling her that Jack had left London without so much as a farewell. She would not understand. She believed the very best of Jack, but this could break the bond between them.
It was one thing to ruin his reputation with the powerbrokers of London, but destroying Charlene’s opinion of him was a different thing. She’d trusted Jack. He knew without being told that trust was not something she bestowed on many, and he had no idea how to reach her before it was too late and the damage was done.
He cursed repeatedly for not having told her Sunday night that he loved her. He should never have returned to Menheim without saying those words to her. He should have gone to Mulberry Street and roused her out of her bed.
