The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  “’Tis good as done,” said Trick. “I’ll have Jane and her mother take care of it.”

  “Good,” Giles sighed. “Then I’ll make plans to go to town.”

  “An excellent notion,” commended Royce. “Information is the basis for any good strategy.”

  “I’m leaving Lady Gwyneth, and her safety in your hands,” said Giles, staring at each man in turn. “I am relying on you to keep her safe, and yourselves as well. That includes you, Trick. I need to know that you and Jane are secure at Fivetrees. I would not recommend your letting anyone in, no matter what the circumstances. I’m sure you can come up with a believable excuse.”

  Trick nodded. “I’ll take no chances with Jane and our babe, believe me. But if I’m needed here…” He looked at Giles, and then at Gwyneth.

  “We’ll manage, Trick,” answered Jeremy. “The four of us can protect her, and hold Wolfbridge. Besides, these are precautionary measures. We don’t yet know what battles we’ll be fighting, only that a few enemies have been sighted.”

  “Well put,” said Evan. “But you are already fully aware, Giles, that our first priority is now, and always will be, our Lady.”

  “Without question,” added Gabriel.

  “No doubt about it,” finished Royce.

  Gwyneth turned to Giles and he was glad to see her gaze steady. “I am well in hand, Giles, as you can see. Go and gather the information you need, then return safely to us and we’ll put a plan together that would make Wellington weep with envy.”

  “Er…are you planning on invading Ditchley, my Lady?” Jeremy’s lips curled into a smile.

  “If I have to, Jeremy. If I have to.” She lifted her chin.

  “She would too,” added Royce. “And God help Ditchley if she does.”

  *~~*~~*

  Gwyneth had done her best to absorb all the information that was disclosed around her.

  It almost felt as if they were under siege, and for the first time she began to fully understand the meaning of the Manor whose name she now carried.

  Wolfbridge wasn’t just a sanctuary for its Ladies. It clearly offered more; a home for men who had been wounded in one way or another. Everyone who lived within its walls found some measure of healing and strength. It was an enlightening discovery, and she looked at each face, knowing now that they were so much more than just her gentlemen. She also became aware that the interactions, within Wolfbridge, although seeming on the surface to be of benefit to the Lady, also benefitted everyone participating in them. She couldn’t help thinking about how the desire that flared more and more these days might give the men as much pleasure, if not more, than she took from them.

  They had agreed that Giles would leave and in his efficient fashion, he was on the road within the hour, promising to keep everyone apprised of his whereabouts.

  She stood on the front steps of Wolfbridge, surrounded by the four men, watching him ride away on the first leg of his journey.

  “He’ll be fine,” said Royce. “I am coming to realise the level of his astounding abilities when it comes to accomplishing his goals.”

  “Can’t ever underestimate him, that’s for sure,” said Jeremy.

  “If there’s anything to learn, he’ll root it out.” Evan folded his arms and nodded.

  “He’s rather intimidating in many ways,” sighed Gabriel. “I swear his spine is steel, but he cloaks it well.”

  A grey cloud drew closer, and the sunlight faded away making Gwyneth shiver.

  “Come on, back inside with you, my Lady.” Evan put his arm around her. “You probably should be resting.”

  “I’ll be on my way,” Trick said. “I have to go and start reassuring my wife that all’s well. And that we’ll be staying inside for a while. At least she will.”

  “Good luck with that,” Jeremy grinned. “You might want to send a message to her mother right away, or you’ll have Mrs B beating down your door.”

  “Point taken,” nodded Trick. “If you need anything…” he shot a stern glance at all of them.

  “We know where you are.” Royce gave Trick a little mock salute. “Go home to your wife. We’ll let you know when Giles returns.”

  The afternoon seemed quiet, with Evan in the kitchen, Jeremy and Gabriel playing chess in the Rose room, and Royce in his small study.

  Gwyneth found herself unusually idle, not caring to read, and unsure enough of the weather to want to go for a walk. Besides, she doubted she’d be allowed out of the house at the moment, for fear some or all of the malevolent parties might decide to do something dreadful.

  Her own worries weighed on her, exacerbated by those she’d listened to earlier, so she left the Rose room, reassuring Jeremy and Gabriel of her intentions to stay close, and went to find Royce.

  “Hullo.” She peered around the door to his study, finding him with his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up and a pile of papers in front of him. He squinted at them with a quiet terrible frown. “Am I disturbing you?”

  “Yes,” he grunted, then pushed back from the desk. “And I’m glad of it, to be honest. What can I do for you, my Lady?”

  She made a snap decision. “Take a few minutes and walk with me in the garden? The sun looks like it might come back out, although I know not for how long, and I’d like to breathe a little. Just around the lawn.”

  He glanced outside, then nodded. “A good idea. I need to breathe too.”

  She smiled as he stood. “We can tell Jeremy and Gabriel if we go out through the doors at the end of the hall. They’re playing chess in the Rose room.”

  He grinned. “And Evan is cooking something magnificent. I can smell it from here.”

  Taking her arm, Royce walked with her down the corridor leading outside. They popped in to let the two men at the chessboard know where they were and then sauntered out onto the terrace.

  Gwyneth took a breath. “This could be lovely come summer,” she looked around. “The grass is greening up nicely. Now we need some flowers.”

  Royce followed her gaze. “Yes, I think you’re right. But I’m not the man to ask, since my knowledge of flowers extends only to those provided to ladies after a pleasant evening.”

  She laughed, knowing he intended his jest to have that result. “Very well. I won’t ask you about putting in some rhododendrons or azaleas.”

  “Whew.” He wiped his brow, dramatically.

  They strolled out onto the grass, and Gwyneth took that deep breath she’d been promising herself. An idea had lurked in the back of her mind since she’d received that fateful letter. This might well be the time to explore it.

  “Royce, may I speak to you in confidence?”

  He turned his head, and looked at her, puzzlement written large across his handsome face. “Of course, my Lady. You never need to ask that of me.”

  “I meant no insult. But I am still not sure of the rules—if there are any—pertaining to you and the others and me…” she huffed a little laugh. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do, my Lady,” he smiled.

  “Firstly, please…it is Gwyneth, when we’re alone? I find I’m tiring of always being my Lady. We are all becoming much too close to each other for that formality.”

  “Very well. Gwyneth.” He squeezed her arm against his ribs. “But only when Giles isn’t within earshot.”

  “Agreed.”

  Their steps took them to the edge of the lawns and they turned, circling down the margin of the grass, beneath the greening oak trees.

  “I need to ask your opinion about something.” She kept her eyes focused on their path.

  “Ask away.”

  “To do so, I must share a confidence that is intensely private. Not even Giles knows this. At least I don’t believe he does…”

  “Are you sure you wish to share it?”

  She nodded definitively. “Yes. Completely.”

  “I’m honoured, Gwyneth. You have all my attention.”

  “I received a blackmail letter a couple of days ago.”
>
  “What?” Royce almost skidded to a stop and turned to stare at her. “Did you tell Giles?”

  “Yes, I did,” she answered. “He needed to know. He has it all.” She shrugged. “I have to assume that this incident was also part and parcel of his decision to go to London. How it might be linked, I’m not sure. I’ll leave that to his wiser mind.”

  “All right.” Royce sounded concerned. “I am most distressed to hear this, but since Giles already knows, how can I help?”

  “Giles knows of the letter, but not of the reason. He did not ask and I did not tell him.”

  “I see.”

  “I do need to tell someone. Just in case.” Her steps slowed. “And for some reason, I believe you are best positioned to be my confidante.”

  “You do me a great honour, Gwyneth,” he said again.

  “I suspect you to be less…emotional, shall we say, than the others. The episode in my past happened when I was only seventeen. I can speak of it now with a minimum of pain, but it would be easier to reveal it to someone who can listen objectively. I know you better than to presume you would judge me, but I don’t need comforting either.”

  “So no cuddling then?” He raised his eyebrows and grinned.

  She shook her head and laughed. “I have nothing against cuddles.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he answered, his lips twisting into a smile that was as wicked as it was attractive.

  It thoroughly seduced her and she made a snap decision. “Royce, would you come to me tonight and let me unburden myself to you?”

  “That depends.”

  “Oh? On what?”

  “Will we be alone?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  “Will you be naked?”

  She choked in surprise. “Er…” Her brain scrambling, she answered honestly. “I could be.”

  “Good. I’ll be there.” He turned them both toward the house. “And now we must return, lest my breeches reveal the direction of our conversation.”

  She wanted to look—oh God, how she wanted to look. But she reminded herself that she could wait for the day to end and then look her fill.

  She gritted her teeth and let him walk her back into Wolfbridge, where she could virtuously look the others straight in the eye, then run upstairs and tend to a few body parts that were unusually damp.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Gwyneth counted the hours until it was time for her to retire. Were the others aware of it? She hoped not. Evan cooked a wonderful meal they all enjoyed, and then the evening ended with brandies in the Rose room and a conversation that roamed over a variety of topics…until at last she felt she could reasonably bid everyone good night.

  Whether they knew Royce was to attend her later, she didn’t know.

  It was still an area in which she was unsure of herself and her gentlemen, but perhaps they had it worked out between them so there wouldn’t be any interruptions.

  Even Gabriel gave her a sunny smile and nod as she left. She hoped he’d not pop in unexpectedly, although…she tingled at the memories.

  However, her room was silent and empty, and she prepared herself for bed with her usual routine. Having short hair wasn’t stylish, but she had become quite used to the simplicity of keeping it clean and tangle-free. A quick brushing and she was done…no one hundred strokes a night.

  Her robe covered her, and she’d donned a nightgown, not knowing if Royce was serious about her being naked for him. She frowned at herself. She was the Lady of Wolfbridge. He should be asking if she wanted him naked, not worrying about herself. Why was it so hard for a woman to demand what she wanted from a man? Why could she not have looked at Royce in the garden this afternoon and said “I want you in my bed tonight” without feeling like the most depraved creature in the world?

  The fact that she could have done so and didn’t, showed her that she still had a way to go before reaching her full potential. She needed to take strength from these men, but if she didn’t ask for it, it would take much longer. It was a difficult concept, and she stared at the two candles flickering on the table by her bed as she thought about it.

  Four men, dedicated to the service of their Lady, willing to give their all, including their bodies to her as needed. Handsome, charming…and apparently all with secrets of their own. Jeremy’s confession about the incident with the young woman—that would be more than enough to scar him for life. And yet here he was at Wolfbridge, a merry and positive man who gave unselfishly of his time, his laughter and his wit.

  It had to be the effects of Wolfbridge. The complete unconcern about the past and the stringent rules of society. Here, a person’s character was what mattered the most.

  A tap on the door recalled her wandering thoughts, and she crossed the room, opening it to see Royce standing in the shadows with his robe on. She couldn’t help noticing that his feet were bare. A sensual tingle ran through her—apparently the sight of Royce’s naked toes was some kind of magical arousal.

  “Good evening, Lady Gwyneth,” he said, his eyes heated as they looked her over, much as she had done to him. “May I come in?”

  “Please do.” She moved aside and waved him through, shutting the door behind him.

  “Lock it,” he said.

  “Pardon?”

  “Lock the door, Gwyneth.”

  Slightly amazed at the commanding tone, she simply nodded and snicked the key home, then walked back to her bed. He’d taken a seat on the chair beside it, leaving her no other choice than to hoist herself up and sit on the edge of the mattress. She gathered her robe around her legs.

  “Don’t bother. I’ll see all of you soon enough.” His eyes lingered on her calves, then he glanced up at her face. “Now tell me about this blackmail letter? I am very much bothered at the thought of it. If there’s a way to do something about it, I need to know the facts, the situation…anything you can tell me will help.”

  Gwyneth swallowed. “This is difficult. It’s not anything I’ve spoken of in many years and it brings back a painful time in my past that I’ve tried hard to put aside.”

  “I can understand that. However, someone has dug up that secret past and is now using it as a weapon against you. I’d like to know who, and I’m sure you would as well. So you must tell me, Gwyneth. Tell me everything. I promise you cannot shock me.”

  “All right.” She took a deep breath. “I lived a sheltered life near a small village, not unlike Ditchley. My family was comfortably situated—a nice house, a couple of servants, and so on. We were not rich, by any means, but we were…well, comfortable is the best description, I suppose.” She sighed. “I was the only child, I’m sure I was a wilful nuisance to my governess, but overall it was a happy childhood.”

  “I sense a ‘but’ coming…” Royce raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re right. I was seventeen when I met a young man. His name was Michael.”

  “Ah.” He crossed his legs at the ankle. “Let me guess. You fell hopelessly in love, as only a young girl can. And he wooed you, then spurned you for another?”

  “Yes and no,” she answered, folding her hands together in her lap hard enough to turn the knuckles white. “I did fall in love with him. Helplessly and hopelessly. I believe he felt the same. But he was a second son, and…well, as you know, ten years ago there was a great demand for soldiers.”

  “He enlisted?”

  “His father bought him a commission, which delighted him to no end since he had always cherished the idea of fighting for his country. He became a lieutenant in the cavalry.”

  “I see.”

  “So yes, Michael spurned me in a way…but to become a soldier. He left for the Continent, and two weeks later I realised I was carrying our child.”

  Silence fell after Gwyneth’s confession. She closed her eyes, hands still tightly gripped, recalling with clarity the moment she knew, without a doubt, that his child slept within her.

  “That must have come as a shock,” said Royce with s
urprising gentleness.

  “It did. I wrote him immediately, and he answered with a brief note—he was readying for battle, but we’d settle it all when he returned. There were no sweet words, or expressions of affection. He had found the love of his life, I think. He was where he wanted to be, and home—and me—neither played a part in any of it. I thought he was the love of my life…obviously the reverse wasn’t true.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She glanced at him, expecting to see a sarcastic curve to his lips, but he was looking at her with tenderness. It was hard to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Since the worst of it was now out there, she lifted her chin and continued.

  “I had planned to tell Mama and Papa as soon as Michael wrote again.”

  “What happened?”

  She paused for a moment, then looked him straight in the eye. “The Battle of Sahagún.”

  “Bloody hell,” Royce closed his eyes and winced. “That was…a victory that came at too great a cost.”

  Thinking of the slaughter that reportedly occurred as the 15th Light Dragoons met two regiments of French cavalry, Gwyneth nodded. “And the French fared even worse.”

  “War is a useless and terrible thing that is seldom fought by those who started it,” muttered Royce.

  “You were a soldier, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.” His tone was hard and that one word said it all. He turned to her. “What happened when you learned of your Michael’s fate?”

  “The news came by letter to his family,” she said. “So we all found out a couple of weeks after the event. I’d wondered why I’d not heard from him, but communications weren’t easy between England and Spain at the best of times.” She swallowed. “I was…devastated, of course, but I had to hold it all back, other than the expected sorrow. I went for a long walk. It was cold, very cold, that vicious December bitterness, with some snow and slush on the ground.” She gave a short humourless laugh. “I can remember every detail with such clarity, even after all these years.”