The Jacobite's Return (The Georgian Rebel Series) Read Free

with Sir Clive’s aunt. Sheridan Hall is not fit to live in, certainly not for the child—”
    “Rosie has a child?” Conversation be damned. Jack’s interruption was like a whiplash.
    “She has a son.”
    Jack flinched. It was a further signal, if one was needed, that he must move on. Rosie was married. It shouldn’t matter that she had also borne Sheridan a child…but somehow it did.
    He drew a breath. “She does not spend time in London, then? I seem to remember Sheridan was fond of visiting the capital.” Tom’s answer to this question would help him decide his next destination. He had promised his uncle he would return to England. London was Sir William’s preferred option, being the best place for Jack to renew his acquaintance among the nobility. The subtext was clear. It was also the best place to meet eligible young ladies. But if there was the slightest chance he would encounter Rosie…
    Tom was shaking his head. “Rosie has a deep-rooted dislike of London.”
    London it was then. Had Tom’s answer been different, Jack would have ignored his uncle’s advice and gone directly from Delacourt Grange to St. Anton Court, his family estate in Northumberland.
    “And how fares young Harry? I cannot believe he was happy with his sister’s choice of bridegroom.”
    Jack thought back to the idealistic twelve-year-old boy he had known in the winter months as the new year of 1746 dawned. Harry Delacourt had regarded Sheridan with loathing. As had Rosie at that time, Jack recalled. He could not believe that Sheridan had won her round with some swift wooing.
    “His father’s death hit Harry hard. It was a difficult time for us all.” Tom took a breath as though debating whether to speak his next words. “Not least Rosie, Lord Jack. Losing you destroyed something inside her. And then her father’s heart attack came so soon after Culloden. When I travelled to Scotland and escorted her home to nurse him, she was a mere shadow of her former self…” He broke off, observing Jack’s reaction warily.
    Jack took a ragged breath. “I understand how it was for her, Tom. Truly I do. I even understand why she married. Why she felt the need for the protection of a wedding ring. What I have never been able to understand is why she chose Sheridan. Good God! He was the very man who did his best to send Fraser and me to the gallows after Swarkestone. Yet Rosie chose to wed him? And so soon after she thought me dead. It has troubled me ever since I heard of it.” Troubled? He almost laughed aloud at his own understatement. Haunted. Tormented. Cursed. All infinitely more suitable ways of describing his feelings in regard to Rosie’s marriage.
    Tom reached out a hand to grip his forearm, but Jack shrugged it off. Collecting himself with difficulty, he poured another glass of port and dashed it down quickly. He had come here to bid her farewell. Why must his mind persist in torturing him by seeing her in every part of this estate? Out there in the rose garden, or beyond in the golden wheat field, turning to smile at him as she walked the laurel path between Delacourt Grange and the old dower house. Placing a hand on his shoulder as she rose on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek. She refused to be banished from his thoughts.
    “I came here to see if I could finally shake off the memories.” He heard the tremor in his voice and cursed it.
    “Mayhap one day you will be able to find the good in those memories. Because there was much joy in your heart back then. You cannot deny it.”
    “Mayhap,” Jack repeated, returning to his unseeing scrutiny of the view.
    “There is one matter we must discuss.” Tom’s sombre tone made Jack turn to face him. “Rosie must be told.”
    Jack didn’t reply. For two long years he had rehearsed meeting her again. In his thoughts he had examined every possible look, gesture and nuance. He knew it was something he would never be able to face in reality.
    Tom seemed to sense his