Jack glanced over at Ada. No one except Pearl Colgan had defended him to the St. Clair family. She gave him a warm smile, her blue eyes twinkling.
All talk lapsed as the waitress took away the caviar and replaced it with bowls of clear chicken broth. This was better than the previous course but, still, hardly filling.
St. Clair sipped at his soup. “You are active in the suffragette movement, are you not?” He spoke so abruptly that Ada choked on her broth. The old man waited until she had taken a sip of water and then pressed on. “I’m not certain that I want Laura exposed to progressive ideals.”
Ada, red faced from swallowing wrong or from the line of questioning—or possibly both—turned to Jack, the light of appeal in her blue eyes.
He gave in to pity. She was doing the best she could, and he needed to step up, too. He turned to the old man. “Laura’s my daughter, St. Clair,” he responded. “If I don’t mind Ada as her mother, then neither should you.”
These were fighting words, and he knew it. On the other hand, he wasn’t going to permit St. Clair attacking Ada. She was trying to help. Because of her, he might get Laura back. If the old man wanted to mock him for being a rube, he could have at it. These insults were nothing new. Insulting Ada was an entirely different matter.
St. Clair glared at him. “You know full well that my daughter’s will gave me authority over certain aspects of Laura’s life. She didn’t trust you to do much of anything with Laura in the event of her death.”
Jack fixed his father-in-law with a defiant stare, all the rage he had initially felt over Emily’s will rushing back, filling him with anger so potent that he clenched his fists.
The waitress chose that opportune moment to clear the soup bowls away and brought the main course.
“Chicken à la King,” Ada murmured appreciatively. “I haven’t had this since leaving New York. It’s one of my favorites. Our cook had just learned the recipe.”
Jack shifted his attention to her. How could she even have an appetite now? Was the woman made of stone? Yet, as he glowered at her, her hands trembled when she took up her fork. Her face was now drained of all color.
Her enthusiasm was a ruse to break the tension. She took an unsteady bite of her dinner, and as she chewed, her jaw squared. She was girding herself, in the same way he had done, for battle. Ada was nobody’s fool. By this time she had surely learned his father-in-law’s manner. First, flattery. Later, he would go for the kill.
“I understand your hesitation, Mr. St. Clair,” she continued, as though the fracas between the two men had never happened. “After all, you are Laura’s grandfather. She is your treasure, too. I assure you that my intention is to help bring her up as a young woman should be raised.”
St. Clair nodded, looking at Ada, and his keen brown eyes narrowed. “I worry that if I release her to your care, I’ll never see her again. St. Louis is neutral territory. If she goes with you to Winchester Falls, then I would probably have to journey to that rustic community just to see her.”
Ada shot Jack a pleading glance. “I’m sure my husband would have no objection if Laura came to visit.”
“I want her to come to Evermore, our family home, for two weeks every year. The rest of her family—cousins, aunts, uncles—wish to see her as much as I do.” St. Clair’s voice took on a clipped tone. He was in full bargaining mode now.
“One week,” Jack countered. He was feeling reckless. St. Clair had managed to rile him up enough that he was beginning to enjoy the thought of needling the old man.
“It will take at least a few days for her to journey there and back,” Ada spoke up. “Two weeks must include her traveling.”
“Two weeks if Ada goes along as her chaperone,” Jack snapped. Ada had no business lengthening the visit without his consent.
“Don’t you want to go?” Ada asked, her eyes widening.
“I’m never setting foot on Evermore soil again.” He leaned across the table, staring down his father-in-law.
“That, young man, is certainly fine with me,” St. Clair retorted.
Ada gasped. “Gentlemen.” It was the first time she had intervened without merely trying to change the subject.
Things must be too far gone if she was stepping in like this. A hollow feeling filled the pit of Jack’s stomach. Had he allowed himself to be goaded to the point that there was no way Laura could come home?
“Perhaps it would be best if I laid out a few plans,” Ada continued, giving each man a glare that easily said, clearer than words, Behave yourselves. “After all, each of you feels passionately about Laura’s welfare. That speaks highly of both your characters. Let us, then, come to an arrangement that will benefit the child, and not one borne of a grudge.”
St. Clair opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Ada quieted him with a wave of her hand.
“Your first concern was of my pedigree, Mr. St. Clair. As you have demonstrated, you know as much about my family as most people do. If my family background is repugnant to you, I beg you would say so now. It is still difficult for me to speak of my father’s passing. As much as he was flawed, I loved him in my way and I miss him.”
St. Clair flushed. He shook his head. “No, my dear. I have no objection to your family. Quite the contrary, in fact. The Westmores have been known in social circles for generations.”
Ada turned to Jack. “Your father-in-law is worried that he will not get to see Laura if she is removed from school. No matter how you feel about the man, he is Laura’s grandfather. A few visits to Charleston for her to know her mother’s family is not too much for him to ask.” Though her voice was sharp, her eyes held a beseeching look.
“I would like, in addition to a summer visit, to have regular reports on her progress,” St. Clair continued. “If at any time I feel Laura is not receiving adequate care, I will bring her back to boarding school.”
Jack’s anger, which had begun to cool, hit the boiling point once again. He opened his mouth to tell the old man to jump in a river, but Ada touched his arm under the tablecloth. He glanced over at her. She gave him a barely perceptible shake of her head.
Her touch was calming. He took a deep breath, willing his fury to ebb.
“I can send weekly letters, if you wish,” Ada replied. She started to withdraw her hand from his arm, but he grabbed it and held on tightly. He needed her. She was the only thing standing between him and disaster.
St. Clair looked skeptical, as though he didn’t expect Ada to be entirely honest when writing. She returned his stare evenly. Jack glared at the old man, too. If he spoke just one word against his wife— He was already thinking of Ada as his wife. That was an odd sensation. Even after he had been married to Emily for a year, he didn’t feel as close to her as he did to Ada.
“I suppose that will be sufficient, although I might have my man of affairs stop in now and then, when he can be spared,” St. Clair retorted. “And the summer visit?”
“Laura can go if Ada accompanies her,” Jack repeated shortly. It was all he could promise. He looked over at Ada, and she gave him an encouraging smile. It felt good and right to receive her support in all this. She had done so much more for him than he expected. In times past, a meeting like this would have drawn to an unsuccessful close much, much sooner.
Ada turned back to St. Clair. “Is that agreeable to you, sir?”
“I should be happy to have you as my guest,” St. Clair replied with a courtly little bow.
Ada took a sip of water. Her hand, still clutched in his, trembled.
Jack