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Chapter Twenty-Seven
When they were home, after the physician had finally left, Patricia crawled into the bed next to her husband, hugging him tightly. Jackson sighed with pleasure. He was almost asleep, exhausted from his trials, but he leaned over to kiss her tenderly on the forehead.
“This is a dream come true,” he whispered. “I thought that I would never hold you in my arms again.”
She tightened her grip around him. She was so very weary herself – she could barely keep her eyes open. She almost couldn’t believe that they were actually here. That the nightmare of the night was finally over and they were both safe and sound.
She nestled in against him. She had everything that she wanted right here. And she knew that she would never take it for granted. She had almost lost him tonight.
“I want you to hold me forever,” she whispered back. “I never want to leave your arms. I love you so very much.”
“As I love you,” he whispered gently.
The next moment, he was asleep. It was as if a candle had been snuffed out. She gazed up at him, watching his adored face settling into slumber. It was a mess of gashes and bruises, with his healed scar in the center of it. And it was more beloved to her than anything on this earth.
He had suffered for those injuries, as he had suffered for that scar. They told a story of the man he was. An honorable man. A good man. A man who would fight for what he believed in and a man who would never give up.
Her eyes finally closed. He was her man. And she would have him no other way.
* * *
Four weeks later
Jackson leant over his desk, staring down at the paper in front of him. Godwin was seated across from him, waiting his signature on the documents. Jackson picked up the quill determinedly and dipped it into the inkwell. Quickly he signed the documents, handed them to his man of affairs, then sat back.
Godwin stood up. “I shall go to the bank this afternoon and make sure that the funds are available immediately,” he said slowly. “Is there anything else, your Grace?”
Jackson shook his head. “No, Godwin. That is all.” He smiled wearily. “I am so glad we have been able to find a good home for Adam and a position for his mother, but I find that I am spent now that we have sorted these details. I might rest this afternoon.”
The man’s eyes flickered with sympathy. “You have recovered remarkably well, your Grace. It shows how much fortitude you have.” He walked towards the door, then hesitated, glancing back at Jackson. “I am so very honored to be in service to you. Your father would be proud of the duke you have become.”
Jackson’s heart lurched. The man’s words touched him in the most profound way. He had always sought his father’s approval, but he had never heard that from his lips. He wondered if Godwin was right. Fervently, he hoped so.
“Thank you, Godwin,” he said, just managing to keep his voice steady. “I appreciate it. More than I can say.”
Godwin smiled hesitantly, nodding his head, and then he left the room.
Jackson sighed heavily, staring out the window for a moment, lost in reverie. It had been a tumultuous time since the drama of the night when Cardigan had abducted him. For the first week, he had barely moved out of his bed. In addition to a broken nose and various lacerations, he had sustained many bad bruises. But he had slowly healed.
He smiled, thinking of Patricia. She had barely left his side for the entire time, nursing him constantly. He thought of her now as his angel of light. The very best thing that had ever happened to him.
And now, he was helping to repay that devotion in the only way he could.
He sighed again, reaching for a fresh sheet of parchment. He dipped his quill in the inkpot. He had just given Godwin the documents to take to the bank to withdraw the funds. Now he needed to write the letter to his wife’s father to tell him what he was doing. That he was giving him the funds for Lady Margaret’s dowry as well more to cover all his debts.
As he quickly wrote, outlining the plan, he thought of Viscount Chant. The man had acted recklessly, putting his family’s entire future and way of life at risk. He was giving him a chance to start over, but he was not going to tolerate any further bad behaviour in this regard. He hesitated for a moment, trying to choose the right words.
In return for making these funds available to you to clear your debts and provide a satisfactory dowry for Lady Margaret so she has the freedom to choose a husband she truly wants, I require your solemn vow that you shall abstain from gambling in the future. If I hear even a whisper that you have returned to the dice or cards I shall be greatly displeased.
I do this not for your sake, but on behalf of my wife. I shall not have her distressed over her family’s fate forevermore. She is not responsible for your actions and should not be pressured by you to resolve them. If you do break this vow and gamble away the funds again, there shall be no more forthcoming. My wife and I are in agreement on this matter. Think and act very carefully.
He finished the letter, signing his name with a flourish, then sat back. It was done. All he needed to do was seal and send it.
He put down the quill. He hadn’t lied to the Viscount. Patricia was in total agreement that no more funds be made available to her father if he did not do the right thing. In fact, it had been her idea.
“I refuse to have it hanging over my head for the rest of my life,” she had declared fervently, when they had been discussing the matter. “If he believes that he can take the money and keep gambling then I shall wash my hands of him. And I shall take Margaret into my own care and find her a good husband.”
And so, they had come to an agreement. Patricia still felt intensely guilty that she was asking this of him, but he had brushed her concerns aside. She was his beloved wife, and her family was his own now. But he agreed with her wholeheartedly that her father vow to give up gambling to take responsibility for the future of his own family.
