Always Yours

by Cheryl Holt

  He rubbed his side, where old wounds continued to plague him. “It hasn’t been all that grand.”

  “Liar. You wouldn’t trade a minute of the adventures you’ve had.”

  “I might trade a few. Several of them turned out to be quite deadly, and I’d just as soon not reflect on them—or tell anyone about them.” He riffled in the stack and handed her a letter. “I have some information about your friend, Miss Robertson.”

  Sarah Robertson had run an orphanage in London, and Nell had met her at church when she’d been shamelessly begging parishioners for donations.

  Nathan was eager to be introduced to her because he was searching for his two half-sisters, Sissy and Bec-Bec, from whom he’d been separated as a boy of six. He’d grown up, not remembering he had sisters. His despicable relatives had persuaded him that he’d been an only child.

  He was desperate to find them, and Sissy had been taken to Miss Robertson’s orphanage when she was three. He’d intended to confer with Sarah to discover if she had any records from that long-ago period. But he and Nell had stopped by the facility shortly before their wedding, and it had been shuttered, a huge For Sale sign nailed to the front door.

  “You found her?” Nell asked, looking overjoyed.

  “No, but my clerk spoke to some of the merchants on her street. The building was sold, and she was evicted by the new owner.”

  “Oh, no! I thought she owned the building. I thought she inherited it from her father when he passed away.”

  “Evidently not.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “No one had any news, but I’ve been given an address for her sister.”

  At the revelation, Nell was bewildered. “She has a sister? I had no idea.”

  “The woman has a home outside London. Next time we travel to town, we could visit her.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Nell was aware of how much he loathed paperwork, and she pointed to the pile.

  “You’ve been very diligent in your efforts this afternoon,” she said.

  “Yes, and I deserve a reward.”

  He flashed a salacious grin, and she shook a scolding finger in his face. “You can’t have a reward just yet.”

  “When can I have it then?”

  “I have to talk to you about an important issue, and after I’ve finished, we’ll see what sort of temper you’re in.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. What have you done?”

  “Why would you automatically assume I’ve done something?”

  “Because I know you.”

  He pushed back his chair and patted his thigh, and she snuggled herself onto his lap and riffled a hand in his hair. He’d lived his life around rugged, manly men, struggling through in dire circumstances. There hadn’t been any women in that world, and he treasured her small ministrations.

  “I’d like you to grant me a favor,” she said.

  “What is it? Before you inform me, I must remind you that I can’t tell you no on any subject.”

  “I realize that fact, and I’m counting on it.”

  “You presume on my kindly nature.”

  “Yes. I’m quite brazen about it.”

  He snorted with disgust. “At least you admit it.”

  “You have to promise you won’t get angry.”

  “I can’t promise you that. Not without hearing what you intend to confide.”

  “Then you must promise you’ll try to not get angry. Try to do this for me in a calm manner—to the best of your ability.”

  “You’re terrifying me, Nell. Cease your coaxing and put me out of my misery.”

  She slid to her feet and gazed down at him with a great deal of affection.

  “This matters to me,” she said. “Remember that. I’m thrilled that this is happening. I think it will make you feel better.”

  “If you want to make me feel better, you could take me up to our bedchamber.”

  “Not now, and don’t you move. I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Fine. Go.”

  He nodded toward the door, and she skittered away. As he watched her depart, he chuckled with amusement. While still a bachelor, if he’d been pressed for an opinion about marriage, he’d have categorically stated that he deemed it to be a horrid condition.

  Previously, he hadn’t understood why any male would proceed to matrimony, and he’d never pictured himself to be a viable candidate for a husband. With her, he became more besotted by the day. She intrigued him. She humored him. She amazed him. She delighted him in every way, and he suspected she always would.

  She returned quickly, and there was someone with her, a man from the sound of the booted strides. He leaned back in his chair, braced for whatever mischief she was about to instigate. Yet when she entered the room, and he observed her companion, his smile vanished. Suddenly, he was so incensed he considered throwing the ink jar through the window.

  Sebastian was standing with her, looking proud and imperious as ever. How dare he show up! How dare he coerce Nell into being his ally!

  “This is your surprise?” he furiously demanded of her. “This is the favor you ask of me?”

  “Yes,” she firmly retorted. “Mr. Sinclair needs to speak to you about his father’s inquest and other…things. I told him you would.”

  “And I told him, if I ever saw him again, I’d kill him.”

  “You’re not killing him,” she insisted, her tone exasperated. “You’ll talk to him—like a civilized, rational person, like the old friend you used to be.”

  He glared at her, being so hideously disappointed, but he wouldn’t bicker with her in front of Sebastian.

  “I can’t believe you’d do this, Nell,” he quietly said. “You’ve gone too far this time.”

  “In my view, I haven’t gone nearly far enough. I’ve let this quarrel fester, and I shouldn’t have. I expect you to converse in a sensible fashion.”

  “We can’t,” he said. “It’s not possible.”

  Of course she ignored him. “I’ll be right outside. If voices are raised, I will have to act as your mediator. I’d rather not. You’re adults, and you’ve known each other since you were boys. You have to settle this between yourselves.”

  Sebastian was still hovered in the doorway, and she urged him into the room and pulled the door closed. Nathan envisioned her dawdling in the hall, listening like the dedicated eavesdropper she could definitely be.

  He yearned to leap up, march over, and pummel Sebastian again. He yearned to rail and accuse and toss him out of the house, but to his aggravation, she had asked him to remain calm, and he couldn’t disregard her request.

  She had that effect on him.

  Besides, she’d mentioned the inquest, and he’d been wondering about it. He was anxious to attend so he could shout to the entire world what an immoral lout Sir Sidney had been. He’d frequently imperiled their crew with his licentious antics.

  After two decades of traveling with him, Nathan had decided the major reason he journeyed out of the country so often was because carnal rules were more relaxed in foreign locales. He could fornicate with a reckless abandon and not worry about the consequences.

  In light of how their last expedition had ended, Nathan would like every hero-worshipping idiot to discover the truth. But on the other hand…

  Oh, on the other hand! He couldn’t imagine betraying Sir Sidney that way.

  He, himself, had worshipped the man—usually. He’d rescued Nathan from his brutal childhood. He’d treated Nathan like a second son. He’d replaced Nathan’s father who’d been killed in an accident when he was six. He’d given Nathan a future and a purpose. By bringing Nathan along on their explorations, he’d made Nathan rich and famous.

  Nathan had loved him, faults and all, and even though he’d passed away the prior year, in a distant land, surrounded by strangers, Nathan was still desperately grieving. He’d missed the numerous funerals and memorial services, and he couldn’t bear to skip the inquest too.


  Nor could he bear to utter a single derogatory remark that might dampen the memories people had of his mentor and idol.

  What was the rest of the team planning to say? He’d been sure Sebastian would have had a false account devised, but Nathan had been too livid to contact him and learn what it might be.

  Now, here he was: his oldest friend, the man he’d called his brother. The man who’d left him behind to die.

  A fraught interval spun out, where neither of them could deduce the appropriate opening comment. Nathan wasn’t about to start the discussion.

  Ultimately, Sebastian pushed away from the door and walked to the sideboard. He filled two glasses with whiskey, then carried them to the desk. He slid one to Nathan, then seated himself in the chair across. Sebastian sipped his liquor, but Nathan simply stared, indicating Sebastian should get on with it.

  Sebastian finally spoke. “An interesting woman, your wife.”

  Nathan wouldn’t talk about her with him. “Why have you slinked in?”

  “You didn’t invite me to your wedding.”

  Nathan scoffed with derision. “As if I would have.”

  “She advises me you’re on your way to being a father.”

  “My wife has a tendency to gossip too much.”

  “I like her,” Sebastian said. “I’m glad for you.”

  Though Nathan had promised Nell he wouldn’t lose his temper, it was flaring. “I’ll give you five minutes to explain your purpose. Then, when your time has expired, if you’re still sitting in that chair, I will bodily drag you out of my house.”

  He peered over at the mantle to check the clock, and Sebastian sighed with frustration. “Will you ever stop being angry?”

  “No.”

  “Will you ever forgive me?”

  “No. I’m meeting with you because why wife asked it of me. It’s the only reason. Tell me what you want.”

  Sebastian bristled and stewed, then cast away his attempt at reconciliation. “You were subpoenaed to the inquest, and I have to know what you intend to say.”

  Another tense interval played out, and a vision of that terrifying day washed over him. It happened occasionally. He’d smell the jungle and hear the war cries. He’d feel his heart pounding in his chest, shoving the last drops of his blood into the dirt.

  The longer he was home, the frequency and the virulence of his recollections were fading, but they still had the power to rivet him, to make him suppose he was back in the middle of that violent scene.

  He inhaled deeply, tossing the ghastly sight away. “What would you like me to say? Just spit it out.”

  Sebastian nodded, accepting Nathan’s olive branch.

  “We’ve concocted a story.” He reached into his coat, retrieved some papers, and placed them on the desk. “I wrote it down. You can modify it a little so it sounds more personal.”

  “What is the basis of our lie?”

  Sebastian winced at the word lie, but that’s what it would be. None of them could ever admit what had actually occurred. They wouldn’t tarnish Sir Sidney’s reputation, but also, they wouldn’t humiliate Sebastian’s mother. She didn’t deserve to have such a salacious tale spread about her husband.

  If rumors ever circulated, Nathan wouldn’t be the one who circulated them.

  “We’ll claim it started over a mistranslated comment,” Sebastian said. “We’ll claim we thought we’d obtained passage across a tribal hunting ground, but we were mistaken about what we’d been allowed. When Sir Sidney tried to placate the tribal chiefs, a quarrel broke out.”

  It was a believable yarn, and Nathan could force himself to stumble through it, but it didn’t clarify the hardest portion. “And my grisly part in it? How am I to smooth over the edges so it’s not horrific?”

  “Your part can be completely true. You intervened to quell the argument, but you were swept up in it instead.”

  Nathan tsked with irritation. “What about my being left behind? I’m certain the audience will listen to every detail with bated breath, but if I’m candid, you won’t look too good.”

  “I didn’t leave you behind!”

  “Really? I’m quite certain I staggered home by myself.”

  “I sent a team of men to search for you.”

  “Yes, dear Judah. Such a friend to me.”

  “They insisted you were dead under some ferns. They swore it!”

  “They lied.”

  “About which piece? They didn’t find you? You never saw them? What?”

  A wave of fury bubbled up, and he was eager to commit murder again. It was a crushing blow that Sebastian would question his description of the event, that he would accept Judah’s version over Nathan’s.

  He could barely compose himself enough to continue. “I was mortally wounded, and they had a lengthy debate as to whether they should carry me to your camp or abandon me to my fate. If I was about to perish anyway, why bother rescuing me?”

  “You heard them dickering over this? You talked to them.”

  “Yes, I talked to them, you idiot. Judah bluntly apprised me that you were worried I’d slow you down. He claimed your orders were—if I was beyond help—to let me die in peace.”

  “I never said that!”

  “Then what did you say?” Nathan’s expression was grim. “I’m surprised they didn’t slit my throat to hasten my demise, but evidently, it didn’t occur to them. They simply walked away.”

  “Swear it to me. Swear that’s how it happened, that you’re not confused or perhaps imagining things that never transpired.”

  Nathan felt ill. “Get out of my library.”

  “I never told them to leave you behind. I told them to find you! I told them to bring you back—no matter what.”

  “A likely story.” He gestured to the door. “Get the hell out of here.”

  “You’re aware of how trauma can affect a man’s perception.”

  “No, I’m not aware of that, and my perception is perfectly clear. Judah and his two chums declared that you were afraid my feeble condition would imperil the rest of the crew.”

  “It’s a damned lie.”

  “We’ll never know for sure, will we? Maybe I should stop by the Haven and ask Judah what your orders were.”

  “If your memory is correct, there will have to be consequences imposed on my end. Big consequences. Men will lose their positions. They won’t be able to travel with me in the future.”

  “Why would I care about that?”

  Sebastian studied Nathan, apparently hunting for a hint of perplexity or vacillation. But Nathan could recount every detail, right down to how many heartbeats had pounded out before he’d crawled into the jungle. He’d been gasping for air, praying for a quick death. And he’d been all alone.

  “Your five minutes are up,” he evenly stated.

  “I’m sorry,” Sebastian murmured.

  “You keep telling me that, but it doesn’t change anything.”

  “I guess I’ll see you at the inquest.”

  “Hopefully not. Hopefully, we’ll testify on different days.”

  Sebastian stood, and he hovered, obviously eager to offer a parting comment, but Nathan couldn’t abide another moment of the despicable meeting. His pulse was racing, sweat popping out on his brow. His insomnia was always bad, but after this discussion, he probably wouldn’t sleep for a year.

  He realized he was acting like a juvenile brat. Sebastian was trying to fix their quarrel, but Nathan wasn’t interested in having it fixed. He’d been hurt in such a distressing way that he didn’t think their rift could ever be mended.

  Ultimately, Sebastian whipped away and headed out, and Nathan said, “Give Judah a message for me.”

  “I will. What is it?”

  “I want my knife back. It was a gift from Sir Sidney for my eighteenth birthday. Remember it? When I was dying in the dirt, he cut it off my belt and stole it.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “I want it back. If I have to come and take it back,
it won’t be pretty.”

  “I’ll retrieve it for you. I promise.”

  “Thank you. Goodbye.”

  They shared a poignant look, then Sebastian yanked the door open. Nell was standing on the other side, and she frowned into the room.

  “Are you finished already?” she asked Sebastian. “You can’t be. You haven’t been in there five minutes!”

  “We’re done,” Sebastian replied.

  “Are you positive?”

  “Absolutely positive.”

  “At least there weren’t any fisticuffs. I suppose that’s progress.” She sighed with exasperation. “Let me show you out.”

  She led Sebastian away, and Nathan sat in his chair, frozen with regret, with visions that wouldn’t fade. He was once again being pummeled by a grueling sense of loss for what had been ruined in Africa. But he shook it away.

  He wasn’t a baby. He wasn’t a weak-kneed dunce. He was Nathan Blake, Lord Selby, and he was busy. He picked up his stack of letters and started reading through them, but he couldn’t focus on a single word.

  He downed the whiskey Sebastian had poured, then went to the sideboard and downed two more. The liquor hit his stomach, and the quaking in his limbs gradually abated.

  He walked to his desk, glared at his correspondence, and began again.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “My brother is very old-fashioned.”

  “I’ve noticed that about him.”

  Ophelia grinned at Judah Barnett and asked, “How about you? Are you old-fashioned?”

  “I’m not like Sebastian in even the slightest way.”

  “That’s a relief. With the mood I’m in today, I would hate to hear that you share any traits.”

  Judah chuckled, happy to play the part of confidante. “How has he vexed you this time?”

  “How hasn’t he?”

  It was barely past nine, and they were in the front parlor at the Haven and waiting for Miss Gordon to come downstairs. She was a sluggard and always late for every appointment. The two girls had decided to leave for town on the spur of the moment, and their bags were in the foyer and being loaded into their carriage.