Tempting Mr. Jordan

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Chapter One

London 1871

That’s it, then. Lady Julia Tenwick failed to keep the gloom out of her voice as she strolled along the Serpentine.

Your father won’t allow any more seasons? Her friend, Lady Constance Reynolds, walked beside her. Mine won’t either. He said my sisters managed to find a husband in one, so there must be something wrong with me if I couldn’t do it in four.

What an awful thing to say!

Constance shrugged. "Perhaps he’s right. Maybe there is something wrong with me."

Julia patted her friend’s arm. No, there’s not. You’ve been holding out for a love match, just as I have. My brother had one, so why shouldn’t I?

None of my sisters did. She held up one hand and counted on her fingers. Jane married a duke—Mother was beside herself over that one—Samantha married an earl, and Maria married that disgustingly rich American. Oh! Speaking of Maria, I have news!

Does she like it in America? I’ve always wanted to go. My brother-in-law tells such interesting stories.

Constance led them to a bench, and they sat. I’ve no idea, but we’re going to find out.

What do you mean? How?

Maria has invited me to visit her in Boston, and you’re to come with me! Constance was grinning from ear to ear.

To America? With you? Julia shook her head. She must have misheard. Constance loathed the very idea of travel. She had been born and raised in London—anything south of the Thames or north of King’s Cross was too far.

Constance swatted Julia’s arm with a well-manicured hand. Oh, you. Of course with me. If we’re going to be old maids, we might as well have a grand adventure now. And maybe we’ll find some dashing Americans to marry.

Maria’s husband is the only dashing American I’ve ever met. But he didn’t choose me, did he?

Oh, Jules, we were both doomed last year. How on earth could we compete with Maria? Not that you aren’t beautiful, of course, with that stunning auburn hair of yours.

Julia wrinkled her nose. "Hmph."

Neither Julia nor Constance had been able to hold a candle to Maria. Constance’s younger sister, Maria was the toast of last year’s season. More than beautiful—she was stunning, if one liked overly buxom blondes who tossed their heads a lot when talking to gentlemen. Mr. Harvey, a wealthy American from Boston, had traveled to London to find himself a well-born English wife, and everyone, including Julia and Constance, had paled in comparison to Maria.

Julia rose and tugged on Constance’s hand, and they resumed their stroll. So. Tell me of this plan of yours.

Maria lives in a grand house in Boston, on Beacon Hill, I think she said.

Beacon Hill?

Boston’s version of Mayfair, or so I gather. I can tell she’s feeling a bit lonely, although she’d never admit it. Her husband is always traveling, building hotels hither and yon. She says Boston is quite a lovely city, though. Not as old as London, of course, but not so dirty either.

I should hope not. I stumbled crossing the street yesterday and stepped in a pile of something. Completely ruined a new pair of boots.

Alongside the path there was a row of paintings resting against the trees and benches, each prettier than the last. Julia’s attention wandered to them, away from talk of travel.

Oh, look, Constance. They’re beautiful. And isn’t this the spot where you fell in the river last year? She pointed at one of the watercolors depicting what looked like the Serpentine. At the sound of a chuckle, she turned to see a gentleman bent over an easel, his dark hair obscuring his face. She began to walk toward him to see what he was painting, but Constance pulled her away.

No, it’s not, she said with a huff. That was farther down. Well, what do you think?

Julia was quiet for a moment, thinking. Not, however, about America. Her brother might like one of those paintings. A talented artist in his own right, Jonathan always appreciated fine work.

Please? Julia’s attention was diverted to Constance, who clutched at her arm, a slight desperation in her tone. We’ll have such fun!

Constance wouldn’t be able to go if Julia didn’t accompany her—her mother would never allow it. Knowing Constance, she had probably told her parents it was Julia’s idea.

The thought of a grand adventure had undeniable appeal. Julia’s stomach tingled, just a little bit.

Oh, very well. She sighed in mock exasperation, and Constance clapped her hands with obvious glee. I shall have to ask my parents, though, and I cannot guarantee they’ll agree.

Your mother will be delighted to see the back of you, I expect. Constance grinned impishly.

Julia swatted her in protest, but she suspected Constance was right. Given how much time Julia and her parents had spent together this season, it would do all of them some good to be apart for a while, although she thought three thousand miles might be a bit too far for comfort.

She gave her friend a wry smile. Fine, Constance. I will ask them this afternoon, and I’ll send you a note with their answer.

Constance jumped up to kiss her on the cheek. They’ll say yes. I just know it. She practically dragged Julia along the path, skipping and chattering all the way home.

****

Permission obtained and arrangements made, three weeks later Julia found herself on the quay in Liverpool, staring at the steamship that would take them to Boston. Her mother, Lady Longley, had become increasingly attentive over the last few days. Julia had a feeling she was beginning to regret giving her permission for this grand adventure. Her entire family—both parents, her brother Jonathan, her sister-in-law Theodora, and all three of her nephews—had taken the train from Durham to see her off. Theodora’s brother, Edward, had visited for several days before they left, the only one among them who had ever been to America.

Her nephews shook her hand and in turn said farewell very formally, even the two-year old, which made her laugh.

Theodora kissed her on the cheek and whispered, I am so envious of you, Julia. Find a nice American husband so we will have an excuse to visit you. Jonathan will never take me otherwise.

Stay out of trouble, Julia. I shall be very put out if I have to come over there to get you out of a sticky situation. Jonathan gave her a tight hug and kissed her on the top of her head.

I second that. Her father held her more tightly than she remembered him ever doing before. When he released her, she swore a tear glimmered in his eye, but she must have been mistaken. When she blinked, it was gone.

Then, finally, came her mother. This time it was Julia whose vision blurred with tears. Goodbye, Mama. I’ll miss you terribly!

You’ll have a wonderful time, darling. Be good, and write to me every day.

I will, I promise. Julia’s mother enveloped her in a hug.

Julia inhaled the lavender smell of her, imprinting it on her memory.

And mind you don’t disappear like my brother did. I would be very cross. Julia laughed at Theodora’s remark, only because otherwise she would cry instead.

Constance, who had been bidding adieu to her family a few feet away, bounced over to Julia. Come! Everyone is beginning to embark.

As Julia studied the great ship that would be her home for the next two weeks, excitement began to replace the fear and the sorrow she felt at leaving her family. She kissed her mother quickly, waved at everyone else, and followed Constance up the gangplank onto the ship.

Constance took charge, as she always did. Julia often thought she resembled a tiny blonde Napoleon, especially in the hat she was currently wearing. She bullied a porter into leading them to their stateroom and providing a tour along the way. Their maids, Florrie and Dorcas, were already there, unpacking efficiently and giggling with anticipation. Constance and Julia deposited their reticules and returned to the main deck to wave goodbye to their families.

They were all there, assembled on the quay, impossibly small and far away. The butterflies in Julia’s stomach beat their wings a little faster with each passing moment.

Julia and Constance waved and smiled and flirted with the gentlemen standing next to them. Or rather, Constance flirted. Julia was too nervous. She waved until her arm threatened to drop off from exhaustion and smiled until her mouth hurt, watching her mother doing exactly the same.

Finally, a loud horn sounded, and the ship pulled away from the dock. Julia watched as they steamed farther and farther from her home, until she could no longer see her family, or the port, or England at all.

Constance looped her arm with Julia’s, diverting her from the scene. A sympathetic smile softened her otherwise somber face. I know it’s difficult to say goodbye, Julia. But we’ll have a wonderful time, you’ll see, and before you know it, we’ll be on our way home.

Julia smiled. I know. I have never been so long apart from them, but I confess I’m quite excited.

Constance beamed her approval. Well, then, let’s begin our adventure.

Chapter Two

Constance and Julia must have explored every inch of the ship, or at least every inch they were permitted to see. Which was not, Julia thought, all that much. She had taken tours of ships at her brother-in-law’s shipyards, and there were miles of corridors passengers weren’t permitted to enter. Nor were first class passengers allowed to descend to steerage, which she supposed was just as well.

Nevertheless, they were fairly exhausted by the end of their wanderings, and it was with some effort they dressed and headed to dinner. At their table were two gentlemen who looked vaguely familiar to Julia, although she couldn’t think where she had seen them. It wasn’t until Constance enthusiastically greeted them that Julia realized they were the men who had been beside them when the ship sailed. They were both reasonably attractive. The shorter one was fair, like her brother, and had a serious but friendly face. The darker, taller one had a melancholy air about him that Julia found somewhat intriguing.

She was pondering what his story might be when Constance’s voice broke in on her imaginings. And this is my dearest friend, Lady Julia Tenwick.

Um. Yes. Hello. Finding it difficult to make the switch from her imaginings to reality, Julia almost tripped over her own feet, managing only the barest curtsy. Her mother would have been appalled.

Lady Julia. It is our great pleasure to make your acquaintance, the shorter man said, with an odd accent. It was almost English, but not quite. My name is Thomas Jordan, and this is my brother Geoffrey.

It is my pleasure as well, Julia said demurely, watching Geoffrey Jordan out of the corner of her eye. The man said nothing, just nodded. She wondered if she’d seen him before; the way his hair fell over his cheek was oddly familiar.

The waiter held out chairs for Julia and Constance, then daintily laid serviettes on their laps. The two men sat opposite them.

Thomas, clearly the more gregarious of the two, sat opposite Constance. So, ladies. From whence do you hail?

I am from London, but Julia is from the northeast. And you, sir?

My brother and I live in Maine. Do you know where that is?

Julia tried to recall Maine on the American map she had studied, but she had always been hopeless at geography. Fortunately, Constance had a much better visual memory than she did.

Of course! It’s north of Boston, is it not?

Indeed. Quite a bit. It gets very cold.

Constance shivered dramatically. Being from the north, Julia is used to cold, but I much prefer milder climes.

Is that true, Lady Julia? Thomas asked. Do you enjoy the colder weather?

I do, actually. My brother and I have always liked snow.

Well, we have plenty of that in Maine.

Their conversation was interrupted briefly by the waiter, who poured wine into their glasses.

What brought you to England, Mr. Jordan? Julia took a sip of her wine.

Business took me to Manchester, and then to London. My brother grudgingly consented to accompany me.

You do not enjoy traveling, Mr. Jordan? Julia addressed Geoffrey, who was applying himself to his claret with little enthusiasm.

No, not particularly. He did not apply enthusiasm to much of anything, it seemed.

Geoffrey is a bit of a homebody, I’m afraid. This was his first trip abroad in some time.

Constance ignored Geoffrey and batted her long eyelashes at his brother. Did you leave your wife at home with the children, Mr. Jordan?

Julia snorted to herself. Subtle was not a word with which Constance was overly familiar.

Oh, neither of us are married, Lady Constance. Thomas chuckled, clearly aware of Constance’s motives, but then sobered as he looked at his brother.

Geoffrey stared into his glass. For the first time, Julia noticed he was dressed entirely in black, with the exception of a narrow gray tie. She felt like an idiot for failing to observe it before.

I’m so sorry, Mr. Jordan. You are in mourning?

Thomas Jordan spoke for his brother, who was not diverted from his contemplation of the claret. His wife passed two years ago. Thomas frowned, as if to express his opinion on two years of mourning.

An awkward silence descended upon the table. Even Constance was subdued, sipping her wine and trying not to show she was dying to discover more details.

Julia regarded Geoffrey from beneath her lashes. He looked sad, she decided, not simply melancholy. Genuine grief. She had thought Mr. Jordan rude, when really he was simply in pain. She tried to imagine how she would feel if someone close to her had died, no matter the circumstances. It was too horrible to contemplate, and she was grateful when Thomas cleared his throat and changed the subject.

What brings two fine ladies such as yourselves to America?

Constance looked up from the table with obvious relief. We are going to Boston to visit my sister and her husband.

Have you ever been there?

Oh no. My sister is newly married. Her husband came to London last year to…

Find a wife?

Julia laughed. Yes. London is the place to be if you find yourself in the market for a spouse.

How is it, then, that neither of you are yet wed?

Constance pursed her lips in annoyance, a sure sign the conversation had turned to a subject Constance would rather not dwell upon.

Um… Julia had no idea what to say, and Constance was no help whatsoever.

Oh, leave them be, Thomas. The only possible answers are that they haven’t been asked, or they are too picky and have rejected all their suitors. The first is embarrassing, and the second insulting. Julia’s eyes widened at her unlikely rescuer. These, the only words yet out of Mr. Geoffrey Jordan’s mouth, were remarkably true, despite the rude manner in which they were delivered.

He studied Julia and Constance as if they were scientific specimens. They are quite beautiful. His gaze fastened onto Julia’s. Obviously wealthy. Titled. No reason why they should not have been offered marriage, so I suspect the latter to be true.

Any gratitude Julia may have felt evaporated. She opened her mouth to object, then closed it as the waiter returned and served dinner. Geoffrey’s attention thus diverted, he did not say another word for the duration of the meal. The rest of them exchanged small talk, but it was clear to Julia that Constance was too embarrassed to continue to flirt, and it was with relief on the part of all participants that the meal finally ended and Julia and Constance could return to their stateroom.

What an insufferable man! Constance fumed as soon as the door closed behind them.

Which one? I didn’t think either of them particularly gifted in the social graces. Julia removed her hat and handed it to Florrie, who had been waiting with Dorcas for their return.

Constance flopped down on her bed and sighed dramatically. If these are the type of men we can expect to find in America, I fear we are both doomed to be old maids.

I’ll wipe the drool off your face if you’ll wipe mine, Julia said.

Constance laughed, just a little, which was all Julia wanted. She sat beside her friend and smiled sympathetically. It will be all right, you’ll see. You don’t need to fall in love with the first man you meet. I am sure your sister is planning elaborate balls to introduce us to Boston society even as we speak.

Chapter Three

Geoffrey went for a stroll on the deck after the uncomfortable dinner. He was annoyed with his brother, for flirting with the ladies, for insisting he go to dinner, for bringing him on this trip in the first place. Thomas did go to England on business, but he neglected to tell the ladies his primary motivation had been to find himself a bride. His newly acquired fiancée, Miss Laura Cotton, was the daughter of a respected physician. She came from a very large family and was seemingly happy to journey to America in the spring to become a society matron. Geoffrey secretly suspected that Thomas may have misrepresented just how small that society was, and that annoyed Geoffrey too.

Upon the death of their father ten years before, Thomas became the head of the family as well as the head of the family law practice. All of the Jordan brothers were lawyers, or soon to become one, with the exception of Geoffrey.

Geoffrey, the black sheep.

Geoffrey, the ne’er-do-well.

Geoffrey, who had sold his paintings up and down the eastern seaboard, and was now wealthier than all his brothers combined.

The last trait was compatible with the first two only because Geoffrey had not told anyone in his family how successful he was. At first he wanted simply to have one secret in his gregarious family, but after Phoebe died, he just couldn’t be bothered to talk to anyone about anything. It was easier for his family to think he was a wastrel, and after a while all but Thomas considered him a lost cause and left him alone.

He leaned against the railing, watching the water in the wake rise and fall. It was a clear, moonlit evening, just begging to be captured. He pulled a small sketch pad and charcoal out of his pocket and quickly outlined the moon, wispy clouds, the triangular path of the ship’s wake in the water.

He saw a flash of color out of the corner of his eye. A woman, cloak wrapped tightly around her against the brisk wind, stood at the railing a few feet away. He looked around but saw no one accompanying her. He sighed and returned his supplies to his pocket, his sense of chivalry outweighing his need to hide and continue with his drawing.

Good evening, madam. He approached