by Liz Tyner
Even as their grandfather placated them both, Everleigh always knew his grandfather favoured him most. After all, he’d inherited his mother’s crowning jewels, her eyes.
‘What was the fight over?’
‘A saddle.’
He and Daniel were saddling the horses when Everleigh noticed Daniel hadn’t cinched his saddle firmly enough and as the older brother he’d mentioned it. Daniel had pulled the leather tighter, fury flourishing, and they’d both grown angrier. Louder. More emphatic.
They were fighting over a saddle that Daniel had corrected just as Everleigh had said, but then it became over who said what and how often Everleigh said it and how Daniel wasn’t a child but how he acted like one and how Everleigh acted like a Roman Emperor and not one of the good ones.
Finally, he’d told Daniel to take the saddle and ride off to somewhere better if he could find it.
Everleigh was certain Rothwilde had seen Daniel in the interim, but Daniel had kept his distance from Everleigh.
‘You haven’t seen your brother because of a saddle.’
‘I gave my father a letter to post for me. Daniel didn’t answer.’ He’d felt worse than when Daniel had punched him. That hadn’t hurt. It didn’t feel as deep as the crevasse he was digging for himself now. A nice, safe, deep crevasse with a lot of jagged, piercing sides.
‘Perhaps you should try again.’
‘Some rifts never mend.’ He felt judged again. By her. Yes, he was the heir. The chosen one, if only by fate. But in return, he gave his life to others. As he should. As was expected and required.
‘For me, there is no rift to mend,’ he said.
‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘what you’re not telling me.’
She stared at him the same way Mrs Rush did when she didn’t know he saw her watching him. Women—some of them—were strange creatures. Well, all he had ever met.
He gathered his thoughts, putting them into words for the first time.
‘My grandfather was more a father to me. Ella Etta was more like a roguish grandmother or aunt your family would keep you away from as best they could. Mother was a painting on the wall to be admired. Daniel and Father were close and, for some unknown reason, Daniel and Mrs Trimble, the housekeeper, had a friendship. Probably because he didn’t remember Mother as well as I did. Perhaps he didn’t really understand she’d been Father’s mistress...for a long time.’
He recalled his mother darting in and out of his life. ‘I remember my mother kindly. But not lovingly. From what I hear, she was as driven as my grandfather. Mother married Rothwilde for the title just as much as he had married her for what finances he planned to get from Grandfather. His views were simple. Hers were better thought out. She planned to become a countess. My father was the incidental part. He didn’t like discovering that, although he had no choice but to live with it.’
Everleigh shook his head. ‘She married Father for the title and found a mistress involved. Father married for funds and found a father-in-law holding tightly on to them and grasping at everything Father had ever had.’
He slid his legs over the side of the bed, and sat. The wall loomed dark in front of him. ‘My grandfather. I could smile at him and ask if the dung he spouted would make the flowers grow better and he would pretend to strike out to hit the pest—me—buzzing in front of him, missing on purpose. I would always dodge.’
‘Your mother produced two heirs. That should have made both men happy.’
‘It upped the stakes. Grandfather hadn’t expected that Rothwilde could control through keeping Daniel and me near him. Since they were so alike, Grandfather made sure that if anything happened to me or Daniel the funds could not possibly be diverted to Rothwilde. If I died, Daniel would have been in control. Without him, and without me, the funds were set to go to the church.’
His grandfather had had no affection for religion. He’d only wanted to be certain that his son-in-law never gained another pence of his fortune without the heirs.
‘You must have hated the struggle between the two men.’
‘I knew no other life. I was used to their outbursts at each other and their silent struggles for control.’ He was the only chess piece in the game. Each player felt so much depended on him and that, on a whim, he could change course. He strode a careful line, keeping the two from each other’s throats. When he wavered, he could see fury building and made peace.
‘My family was the opposite.’ The covers moved. He could tell by the sound of her voice that she lay back on the pillow.
‘Not all families need to prop each other up for Sunday dinner. Some even try to knock each other over.’ He remembered the hidden barbs, the surface sunshine and the feeling of putting out flames before they became an inferno.
She paused. ‘And you considered a marriage not based on love?’
‘It worked well enough.’
‘Well, everyone kept their head, so to speak.’
‘It wasn’t all fights and flare-ups.’
‘What enjoyment did you have?’
‘The fields. Pretending to be a vagabond. Playing at being a proper gentleman when Grandfather took us to London. Grandfather wanted us placed exactly as we should be in society. He and Father both agreed on that. Only Daniel rebelled. He didn’t like it. Said some of it was nonsense. Perhaps it was, but Grandfather knew how to roll the dice, which pair to pick up and how much to wager.’
He could see enough of her from the corner of his eye to know she studied him. She could only see his profile, he knew. He slowly turned his head, meeting her gaze, enjoying the fascination.
His thoughts lingered on her form, his mind taking a pleasant interlude to sketch the contours of her body. All of the curves dangerous...to both of them.
‘I share things with you that I didn’t ever feel necessary to speak of before. It’s my life, simple enough.’ He shrugged the words away.
‘My life was simple,’ she said.
‘Yet you want to escape from it. To explore. To dance. To be frivolous. Much like my brother does.’
‘If you put it that way, I suppose so. The world is harsh and I want it to be less so.’
She rolled from the bed and collected her chemise.
He waited, then, when she reached for the corset, he stood, moved to her and laced it loosely. ‘Will you be able to get out of it by yourself?’ he asked.
‘I just twist it around when it’s loose. Though it’s not as easy as it used to be, thankfully.’
He helped her dress, enjoying the simplicity. The connection. Her femininity.
‘I’ll light a candle for you,’ he said.
He caught himself slipping on his trousers and knew why he did. To prolong the moment.
* * *
Vivian felt the brush of his hand on her back as she stepped beyond him and into the hallway, leaving him to follow.
She reached to pull at the shoulder of her gown, when she saw shadows moving. Rothwilde halted at the end of the hall, studying her. He lifted a dim lamp.
‘Vivian.’ He gave a nod of his head. ‘Do take care. The hallway can be treacherous in the dark.’
She reached up, wishing she’d done something with her hair before she’d left the room. The door opened wide behind her. She whirled around. Everleigh stood in the doorway, shirt off, moving towards her. The lamp his father held, and her candle, illuminated them.
She saw Everleigh’s inner calculations, trying to outguess his father. His expression hardened. His eyes flashed and she could feel—actually feel—anger from his body.
Neither man moved or spoke, until Rothwilde gave a tight nod to his son, then walked away, leaving them in darkness.
She shivered.
‘I really am ruined,’ she said, after she was certain Rothwilde could not hear her.
‘He’ll not say a word. Not one word.’ Everleigh
clasped her elbow, irritation fading. ‘You have nothing to concern yourself with on that account. It is as if he never saw you.’
‘But he did see.’ She stepped back. ‘He knows.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘But it does to me.’
He took her arm. ‘I’ll see you to your room. I’m more familiar with this house than you are. I can navigate in the dark.’
She hesitated before moving.
He stopped. ‘Vivian, I’m not an innocent. Neither is my father. Likely he was planning a visit to his mistress and was interrupted when he saw you.’
‘I know you say that to make me feel better, but it doesn’t help. Not at all.’
He took the candle and pulled her close. His cheek touched hers. ‘I’m not going to live the same life as he did. He has had a mistress since before he married my mother. When she found out, he spirited his lover away in the night and he brought her back when my mother died. She didn’t have to come far as he’d put her in a house on the estate.’
‘Why didn’t he just marry her in the first place?’
‘An earl can’t marry his housekeeper, particularly an earl strapped for finances. He had no choice but to marry my mother. It really was an arrangement that suited everyone, more or less. Do not concern yourself, Vivian. It’s the past. It’s over.’ The words had too much emotion. It wasn’t over for him.
She took a step back, feeling a confusion she couldn’t understand.
‘This is only one night, Vivian. One night. Nothing happened between us that a sunrise cannot erase.’
‘A sunrise can erase everything that happened between us?’ she repeated softly.
‘Yes.’
‘You will withdraw the proposal?’
‘I will,’ he answered. ‘Today.’
Chapter Eighteen
The knock on her door brought Vivian upright in her bed.
Her mother walked in. ‘Dear, you’re going to be late for breakfast. I came to help you get dressed.’ She walked to Vivian’s bedside. ‘But what I really wanted to know is whether you and Everleigh have discussed marriage again?’
‘We have,’ Vivian said.
‘Then we might extend our stay a little longer. It’ll make you appreciate the way I’ve furnished our house more. If someone died, there aren’t any mirrors in this room to drape with black.’ She assessed the dark furnishings. ‘It does give the sense of a room dressed for mourning, when no one cared enough to return it to normal.’
‘This house is just dreary because of the weather.’
‘It’s dreary because it’s hard to make dark furniture add a splash of brightness to brown walls.’ She looked at the room again. ‘Would it be a crime to put a few gilt pieces around to reflect the light? Open the curtains wider? Add mirrors?’
‘I think we should leave, today,’ Vivian said. ‘As soon as Everleigh talks with Father. Everleigh is going to withdraw the proposal.’
Her mother took in a slow breath. ‘Is it what you want?’
‘Yes.’ She had to want it. She’d been in bed with him and melted into him, and he’d kissed her on top of her head and moved away.
He’d turned a special moment into something darker and more painful. He’d told her of the rift between his family and the inability to mend it. He’d told her of the distance he’d felt from his mother.
‘I can see things better now. More clearly.’ She flicked her eyes around the room. ‘The house reflects the owners.’
‘You’ll have to wait until later in the day for Everleigh to speak with your father,’ her mother said. ‘Rothwilde has taken your father off on some wild goose chase. With the weather this dreary, and for them to be out exploring the countryside, it can only mean that they both want the same thing.’ Her mother stared heavenwards. ‘Since I don’t think your father is finding a tavern, it is a case of matchmaking papas. They’re likely staying away to give you and Everleigh a chance to see things their way.’
Her mother helped her dress and took extra care with Vivian’s hair.
‘There,’ she said, finishing. ‘Everleigh is waiting at the breakfast table. I suspect he doesn’t usually take this long to eat. I told him I would get you.’
‘Et tu, Brute?’ Vivian said.
Her mother smiled, then chuckled. ‘Not really. If I were matchmaking, you’d already be married. Make your own choice. Either way, I’m fine with it. But I think you should have breakfast with him, as he is rather determined to have a meal with you.’
‘You said you’re not matchmaking.’
‘I’m not. You’re old enough to know your own mind, if that is an age any of us ever obtains.’
* * *
Everleigh had finished his meal, but he stood in the breakfast room, staring at the sole plate remaining. Waiting.
He’d expected to feel as if he’d done the right thing when Vivian had left his room. Not like a cad.
He owed her an apology, but if he gave her one, she might misunderstand.
He didn’t want to tell her goodbye. He didn’t want to see her walk out of his life, yet he didn’t want her to remain with one foot in and one foot out, and him the same. They could not stay together without the whole world knowing. She’d be ruined. Vivian could hardly handle stumbling over someone in the hallway.
He wondered if the servants would be disappointed that Vivian wasn’t to become mistress of the house, but he knew that the housekeeper would not welcome his wife easily.
Mrs Trimble would smile and say all the right words, but in a way that showed she was pained. That was as far as she would dare to go.
He had let her stay once after an infraction, but he would not do so again.
One could not throw an earl out of his own house, but his father knew where the funds for the salaries came from. Rothwilde had made certain Mrs Trimble kept out of Everleigh’s sight when Everleigh visited. Not that the estate was his favourite place to be.
But it was home. Not a home that he preferred, but the place he’d spent his childhood. The place his grandfather had visited him and where he and Daniel had rushed outside to listen to tales of bravery, and stories of cunning.
The unwelcoming façade never cheered him when he arrived, but still pulled him into it.
A skirt rustled and Vivian came into view.
‘It appears our fathers are out, roaming over the estate and meeting tenants.’
‘I’m not surprised. Father does that often. Although it doesn’t seem to stop his...’
He paused, thinking of his father’s gambling habit. His father had not asked for funds recently, nor had he been to the clubs.
‘My grandfather used to give me all sorts of advice,’ he said, as Vivian filled her plate from the sideboard. ‘He said I should always keep my vision on what is behind me, beside me and in front of me. And not to be losing my direction.’
‘Why would he tell you a ridiculous thing like that?’
‘He would laugh afterwards. He wanted me to keep aware, but not to let what was going on be such a distraction that I lost my own direction. If he were here now, he would probably tell me I’m missing something.’
He took a sweet from the sideboard. Shortbread. He looked at the triangle shape and realised he had an answer to whether Cook was pleased to have the guests.
Taking two of the triangle-shaped biscuits, he sat across from her. He offered her the shortbread for later consumption, but she waved it away.
He could see he might have trouble keeping a secret about their togetherness as much as she would. ‘Did you sleep well?’
She took a bit of bacon and nipped an end of it. ‘Of course.’
He tasted the confection. ‘I’ll tell your father, when he returns, that I’m withdrawing the proposal. Rothwilde will be disappointed.’
‘My father will probably be ups
et. He even wished for me to marry while I was ill. He seems to think he’s failed if I don’t marry.’
‘You may some day. You still can, you know.’
She deliberated on the bacon, then raised her chin high. ‘I have options in my future.’
He couldn’t respond. He had a feeling something might break if he did and he wasn’t sure if it would be the bacon or glassware.
Then she popped the last bite into her mouth and the tension in her lessened. She lifted her fork. ‘It may take Father a while to absorb the news, but once he sees that both of us are in agreement he’ll accept it.’
‘He’ll have no choice.’
Everleigh rose and moved around the table. Her fork was poised in mid-air. He made sure no one was aware and brushed a kiss on her cheek before leaving.
Chapter Nineteen
Vivian watched and listened to the dinner conversation. The two fathers spoke as brothers. Her mother was silent except for a quiet word of assent when needed.
Everleigh seemed as convivial as the others, yet she suspected they all were seeing only his façade. His ever-so-proper society motions. The ones his grandfather had taught him.
Just as his father got up to move them into the drawing room, her mother put a hand to her temple. ‘I’m so very tired. I must beg off for the evening. Please forgive me.’
Everleigh rose as well.
‘Before you leave,’ he said. ‘I wanted to discuss the proposal of marriage I made to Vivian earlier.’
The fathers’ heads swivelled to him.
Vivian’s mother pursed her lips.
Everleigh gave a nod to Vivian. Then he informed everyone, ‘I withdraw my marriage proposal, as I don’t feel Vivian and I would suit. We have discussed it.’
Her father jumped up, throwing down his napkin. ‘Breach of promise.’
‘Absolutely unthinkable.’ Rothwilde spoke with precision. He clenched his napkin, his hand fisted. ‘Breach of promise.’
‘I can do it and I have.’ Everleigh spoke softly, without hesitation.