“Of course not!” Olivia handed a nearly full cup of tea across to Louella. “I would never!”
Only she had. Just not with the man she’d promised to marry.
“Then why?” Louella blew on the hot liquid and then took a tiny sip.
“Those children… those poor children needed a mother. I could have been their mother, Louella.”
“You will have your own children one day, Olivia. I know you have all sorts of misgivings, but you are going to fall in love, just as I have. And you’re going to have a family of your own. It was sweet of you to consider giving yourself up for those children, but, Olivia! What would your life be like then? I’d hate to think of you toiling in that tiny hovel every day, day after day, never having any time to yourself. It’s not as though you could have hired a nanny to help you.” Louella fell silent a moment. “What are you going to do now? Shall we go to the vicar? You were betrothed to him… and now he’s gone.”
“No one knows. And you mustn’t tell a soul. Promise me.” People might believe all of it was her fault… Olivia dropped a white cloth over the bread she’d been kneading and then turned to sip from her own cup of tea.
“Not even Crawford?” Louella asked.
“Not even the dead one,” Olivia murmured under her breath. “No one.”
“I won’t. I just… hate that you consented to begin with! That you felt you had no other choices,” Louella lamented.
“It must be in the blood. My affliction. Mama said she had an aunt with a meandering eye just like me, remember?”
“I remember. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a happy marriage! Olivia—”
“No!” Olivia burst into tears as she could only ever do with her sister. “I don’t deserve what you have! I’m a horrible person! After betrothing myself to him… I regretted it. I wanted to call it off… Don’t you understand, Louella? Now he’s dead! And I grieve for his children, I do! Oh, Louella. I am so very ashamed of myself. A part of me is relieved.”
This, along with all the mixed-up feelings she had where Gabriel was concerned, had been eating her up for days now.
“But you did not wish him dead. I know that much about you. All of us, Olivia, all of us are only human. But your feelings on the matter had nothing to do with tons of earth caving into the tunnels that day. If anyone is to blame, it was the old duke. And now he’s dead as well. What with all of us taking our part of the blame in this, at the very least, let’s allow the majority of it to go to where it belongs. Good lord, what with Stanton thinking he’s at fault, and Lord Kingsley even– “
“What did Lord Kingsley say?”
“He believes the fault lies with him. Soon enough, he’ll be returning to London and his fiancée. Perhaps she can soothe his broken conscience… Have a care! Olivia, you must be more careful with that!”
Louella had burst from her chair and was dabbing a dry cloth where Olivia had clumsily spilled tea upon herself. Her skin burned where it landed, but that didn’t hurt nearly as much as hearing about his fiancée.
Soon, he would be miles and miles away from Misty Brooke––from her.
She’d always known that he was not staying permanently. “Have you met her?”
“Her? Here’s a wet cloth. Hold this against the burn so you don’t scar. Really, Olivia, you must be more careful. You mean Kingsley’s fiancée?”
Olivia nodded, trying not to appear overly curious. It would not do for Louella to realize she had taken a fancy to a man as unattainable as Lord Kingsley. The last thing Olivia wanted from her sister, or anyone else for that matter, was to become even more of an object of pity.
“I met her briefly in London. She is pretty and clever. She’s lost both her parents, a sister, an aunt or some other sort of relation. All within the last five years. She’s been in mourning all that time and has been forced to postpone her and Kingsley’s wedding at least four times now. I don’t think she gets out much, though, or has many friends. From my understanding, her aunt is something of a tyrant—doesn’t allow her to participate in Society much. I cannot imagine such a prolonged engagement. As it was…” And then Louella blushed before adding, “Poor dear Kingsley has had to remain a lonely bachelor all these years.”
Olivia exhaled a long sigh. “Yes. Poor dear Kingsley.”
“I imagine if he hadn’t been betrothed, some other lucky debutante would have snagged him up by now. Although my husband insists the opposite.” Louella was sitting down again, sipping her tea cautiously.
Olivia didn’t want to feel sorry for Gabriel’s poor dear fiancée. The young woman had been betrothed to one of London’s most prominent bachelors and then forced to put off the wedding year after year. And then to be watched over closely and not given any independence… All the while her fiancé traveled and caroused.
Olivia’s heart sunk into her shoes at the thought of him carousing all throughout Europe. How many different women had he…?
Olivia pitied his fiancée and yet…
“She’s a lucky lady indeed.” Olivia could have bit her tongue the moment the words flew past her lips.
Louella glanced up at her apologetically. “Are you certain you had not formed an attachment to Mr. Smith? Are you mourning him, Olivia?”
But Olivia shook her head. “I think that this spring has been more trying than most. And I have simply been missing my sister horribly.”
Louella blinked away tears. “I’ve missed you, too! Oh, Olivia! Everything has changed and I–I, well, I love Cameron, but it can be difficult to share… everything with another person. With a person one isn’t completely used to.”
“But you are happy? As happy as one can be right now?” Olivia wanted, at the very least, to know that Louella and her new husband were happy together. For the past several years, Louella had been her main concern.
Louella nodded and then grinned. “Now we simply need to find a handsome and wealthy gentleman for my lovely older sister. I refuse to be the only one of us basking in true love.”
“I don’t know about that, Louella.” Olivia wondered how she would explain the loss of her innocence to said handsome wealthy gentleman landed for her by her sister.
“Well, if not wealthy, then at the very least handsome!” Louella laughed.
Olivia groaned.
“Well tolerable then.” And for the first time in days, both girls had a reason, silly though it was, to give in to a little laughter.
All in all, including the duke, thirteen bodies had been recovered.
After digging and removing rubble every day for weeks, what was left of the crew finally managed to locate where the weakness had been and repair it. It was understood by all, however, that no risks were to be taken.
Without the old duke’s interference, Stanton had appointed all new engineers who’d been instructed to consult with him over the most minor of concerns. His father’s men had all been dismissed.
Regardless, the damned thing was no longer Gabriel’s responsibility and he was relieved to finally be on the road to London. The last month spent in Misty Brooke had been nothing short of hell. But his conscience had not allowed him to leave Stanton to deal with all of it alone.
Gabriel shifted in his saddle, happy to be leaving but knowing it would follow him forever. He could walk away from the mine but the broken families resulting from his cowardice, the orphans, the widows… Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. He could leave them all, but the knowledge of what he’d done would haunt him forever.
And Olivia. God help him. Every day he’d fought the temptation to go to her, to ask for her. He’d worked himself into exhaustion in order to purge her from his mind.
He’d failed miserably.
Perhaps it would be easier with more physical distance between them. He could only hope.
Perhaps he was fooling himself.
Gabriel reached out and rubbed the hair on Brandy’s neck, needing… something…
He’d expected to make this journey alone, but at
the last minute, Stanton had said he’d accompany him, informing Gabriel he needed to meet with a few members of Parliament. Session had been adjourned weeks ago, but it seemed the running of the government persisted, nonetheless.
Stanton was Crawford now. Gabriel could not think of him thusly, though. To him, Crawford was a villain; a selfish, greedy parasite. Gabriel slid a sideways glance toward his friend, who was caught up in his own thoughts as they rode away from Ashton Acres, away from the mine, away from the sleepy little village of Misty Brooke… It would be a while before he could think of Stanton as Crawford.
Gabriel had struggled with a different breed of demons upon inheriting his own title.
His father had been everything to him.
Unlike other titled gentlemen within the ton, the late Earl of Kingsley had doted on his wife and children. As Gabriel had grown past his toddlerhood, Lord Kingsley had taken his son with him on errands, to meetings, riding, hunting, whenever it had been humanly possible.
He’d not left Gabriel’s education to tutors. He’d taken it upon himself to pass along the wisdom and knowledge he’d gained from his own father, and his father’s father before him.
Gabriel could not believe anything would be strong enough to smite his father’s life. He had been a relatively young man, not quite fifty, when he’d fallen off his horse. And even then, he ought to have healed and gone on to live an additional twenty or so odd years.
But a few days after the fall, the earl’s health had begun deteriorating. Something inside of him had been bleeding.
Gabriel had not believed that his father was going to die at the time. He’d held onto a tenuous hope until the last day, when his father’s chest had rattled, and the man Gabriel had always depended upon could no longer lift his head or his hand even.
Gabriel had sat with his mother, his sister, and two brothers in the darkened room, held his father’s hands, and taken several vows. Gabriel had also bargained with God.
In the end, God had taken the virile earl anyway.
Becoming the Earl of Kingsley had seemed overwhelming. Yes, his demons were, indeed, quite the opposite of Stanton’s. Whereas his friend needed to unburden himself of Crawford’s crimes, Gabriel feared he could never live up to his father’s legacy.
With good reason, too, apparently.
Shame rode heavy upon his shoulders.
The morning he’d awoke in Olivia Redfield’s arms, for the first time since making it, he’d been tempted to break the promise he’d made at his father’s bedside.
He’d wanted to make all sorts of promises to her instead… Defy his father’s final request.
Which caused him to hate himself all the more.
Because not only had he taken a woman’s innocence, he’d contemplated betraying the one person he’d loved more than anyone else in the world. His father.
Gabriel glanced to his right, ignoring the emptiness that washed over him as he passed the path that led to the small swimming pond. He doubted he would ever return. What had once been a peaceful retreat for him, had become the location that would always remind him of the worst parts of himself.
The monument to mark his dishonor.
“Hand it over, Crawford.” This ride was going to go on forever if he had only his own thoughts to entertain himself. Although the title tasted bitter on his tongue, Gabriel assumed he’d eventually get used to it. “If you’re starting early, I might as well, too.”
Stanton plugged the flask of whisky he’d been making use of and tossed it over.
Gabriel snatched it out of the air.
It seemed odd that his friend would leave his bride so soon. “I cannot imagine Her Grace was thrilled at your departure,” Gabriel commented innocently.
Her Grace. Olivia’s sister. He’d not gone to Olivia to say goodbye. They’d said everything that fateful morning.
“Whether she was thrilled has no bearing upon the necessity of this journey.” His friend’s words were short, not at all like the gentleman Gabriel had always known him to be.
Olivia would be shattered if Crawford hurt Louella. If there had been one thing she’d been pleased with throughout the course of their… friendship, it had been that her sister was settled happily.
He needed to stop thinking about her. “Already wanting to slip the harness, eh?” He tossed the flask back to Crawford. If he could discuss someone else’s problems, perhaps he could forget his own for five minutes.
“She’s not happy with me.” The announcement came as a surprise to Gabriel. Furthermore, his friend looked pained.
“In bed?” Crawford appeared far too lovesick for his own good.
At least Gabriel wasn’t the only one.
“Hell, no. Matters in bed are more than… I’ll not discuss this with you, you bastard.” The newly anointed Duke of Crawford took another long swig of the whisky.
“Ah, so what doesn’t she like about you, my friend? Your good looks? Your lowly title? Your diligence in caring for your responsibilities? The friendly and respectful manner in which you treat those around you?”
All of which was behavior that Gabriel had failed at.
After traveling several yards, his traveling companion grimaced.
“Did you not bother to ask her why?” Gabriel pushed.
If Gabriel couldn’t make Olivia happy, the least he would do was encourage his friend to remain in her sister’s good graces.
Crawford glanced over his shoulder, almost as though contemplating returning to Ashton Acres. They were an hour away by now.
“She’ll be there when you return,” Gabriel reminded him.
His old friend rolled his shoulders. “Of course, she will.” And then he added, “Hell and damnation.”
Gabriel half hoped Crawford wished to go back. He’d take it as a sign that he needed to go to Olivia. But what would he say?
There was nothing more to say. It was done.
And so they continued toward London.
Gabriel did not see the lovely scenery as he rode away from Ashton Acres. He did not notice the bonny weather or birds singing. It was as though all the color in his life had drained away.
He had written to Victoria last week. They would discuss the tenuous date set nearly a year ago. They’d vaguely determined to marry at the end of the Season. It was only a few weeks away.
The poor girl had been forced to shroud herself in black for so long now that he’d likely not recognize her dressed in colorful or even lavender gowns.
And just as he’d experienced at other odd moments of the day, a pang of loss stole his breath away.
Olivia had welcomed him into her bed.
She’d been so trusting of him, so open and giving. Since the moment he’d stumbled on her at Crawford’s Ball, he’d known her to be naïve and innocent.
Crawford had warned him. Gabriel hated that he’d betrayed one of his best friend’s trust.
Perhaps Olivia would tell her sister, who would, in turn, tell Crawford. Crawford could demand Gabriel meet him on the field of honor, and then Gabriel would delope.
None of the answers to his own questions were acceptable.
He grimaced, feeling empty inside.
Chapter 19
London
“Horrible, nasty, dangerous business. That mine.” Gabriel’s mother ridiculed the task that had kept him from London these past months. “And what foolishness for you to have put yourself at risk, even for Crawford. God rest his father’s beastly departed soul.”
His mother hadn’t ever been one to mince words. Although his family had, of course, had an acquaintance with Crawford’s, they’d never professed to hold the old duke in very high regard.
Gabriel’s father had once confided to him that the late duke had essentially killed his own wife. The man had been greedy beyond comprehension. Tight-fisted with his land, his money, his heir. Of course, Gabriel’s own mother would not mourn the man’s demise.
“I’m vexed with you for taking it on.”
He’d not tell her of his hands, which had mended slowly but were now mostly healed. Nor of the greenish bruises that had taken weeks to fade from his chest and abdomen.
He rejected memories of delicate hands cleaning and soothing those very same bruises. It seemed he missed her more as each day passed, when it was supposed to work the other way around.
Damned Olivia and her cursed violet eyes.
“You could have been killed. Don’t try to keep any of this from me, young man. You may be Kingsley, but I’m still your mother. What would Victoria have done if something had happened to you? Aside from her aunt, you’re practically all she has left in this world.”
“But she will not lose me, Mother. And she has you and Prissy. Not to mention Gilbert and Nathaniel. Our family will always be hers. She is in town, is she not?” He’d only sent that one initial note from Misty Brooke. Since he’d only just returned to London two days ago, he’d not yet made an attempt to visit her at her aunt’s.
“She attended the Houghton garden party last weekend. Mrs. Beasley allows her to socialize on occasion. Poor dear. I cannot imagine what her life would be like if she did not have marriage to you to look forward to. Too many tragedies for one so young.”
His mother wasn’t wrong in such an opinion.
“I’ll have flowers sent over this morning.” Gabriel rose. “And I’ll call on her myself, this afternoon.”
His mother set aside her knitting and walked with him to the door. “Let me know as soon as you’ve set a new date. I’ll invite her and Mrs. Beasley here so that we can begin all the planning. I do hope nothing comes along this time. I’ve almost started to think the betrothal was cursed.”
His mother’s choice of words sent a frisson of something… not fear, but awareness, rushing through his veins. Gabriel didn’t believe in magic, or curses or supernatural forces of any kind.
The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2) Page 15