Wes had never seen his father look so shocked. Or angry.
“Who the devil do you think you are to deny me? You’re naught but a third son and a most unimpressive one at that. I’m surprised the Kellington chit would even have you. Get out of my house! You can run back to Lynwood’s poor relations and never return.”
“I cannot think of a better way to spend my life.”
* * *
Violet could not believe this day had finally come, as she stood in the small anteroom of the church in Marston Vale. The guests were already seated, consisting mostly of her family and the Emersons. Soon, it would be time to walk down the aisle to the man she adored. But first, she had some time alone with her two best friends. “Do you believe this is really happening?” she asked Letty and Anna.
“I believe I am overjoyed that you and I will truly be sisters,” said Letty. “Whoever thought that Wes’s visit to the Manor all those years ago would result in the happiness of someone I love so much?”
“I thought it would happen,” said Anna. “I could see friendship blossoming between Violet and Wes from the very first visit. And I saw it deepening through the years. But they are not the only ones who have grown closer.” She looked meaningfully at Letty. “Robert looks particularly handsome today.”
“Does he?” said Letty with a forced casualness. “I had not noticed.”
“Even I will admit Robert looked quite handsome when we snuck a look at them,” said Violet. “And I only have eyes for Wes. I believe Robert truly cares for you, Letty. I do so hope you and he find your way to the altar.”
“I am not the one you have to convince,” said Letty softly. “Is there any word from Mark?” she asked Anna.
Anna shook her head. “I pray that he is well. But sometimes I wonder if I will ever see him again.”
“You will,” said Violet. “For today proves that true love perseveres.”
Violet hugged her two friends, who then left to find their seats. She turned her attention to her young attendants, all the Kellington and Emerson girls who were under twelve years old. Her youngest sister seemed on the verge of tears.
“Fiona,” she said. “What is the matter?”
“Why do you have to leave us?” said Fiona, before throwing herself into Violet’s arms.
“Oh, Poppet, I am not going so very far away. Wes and I have taken a house in the village. I suspect you will see me almost every day.”
“Will I also see Wes?”
“Yes.”
“Oh!” Fiona pulled away. “Then that is quite wonderful.”
With that, the young girl ran off to join the others.
“Are you ready, love?” Violet’s father held out his arm for her. “You are so very beautiful. But, then, you always are.”
“Oh, Papa! Mama trained you very well.” She hugged her father, barely choking back her tears.
Violet walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, looking out at the people she loved so much. Great Aunt Prue and her companion Mariah were already crying. Aunt Lizzie looked on lovingly as she held her youngest son on her lap. Uncle Arthur and Uncle Hal looked as if their own daughter were about to marry. And Uncle Liam’s eyes were moist. The great duke dabbed at his eyes, then kissed his duchess.
Violet finally arrived at the altar where her papa handed her over to the man she would spend her entire life loving. With a kiss for her father and a wave at her beloved mama, Violet faced a future not too dissimilar from her past. It was filled with love, family and the warmth of good friends.
Violet Kellington had found her one true love. And, fortunately, so had Lord Wesley Addington.
The love story of Lord Robert Carmichael and Lady Leticia Emerson
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Eton, February 1826
Robert was slowly making his way across the green. His leg was aching and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to climbing all those stairs to his rooms. His father had insisted on placing his lodgings there, claiming he was trying to make his son stronger. Robert could have told him that no amount of climbing stairs would ever reshape the bones and muscles which simply would not move as he would like them. Ever since the year he became ill, he had tried to walk normally, but to no avail. He had endured leeches, cupping, bloodlettings and splints which had nearly broken his bones, but nothing had ever made a difference other than Robert’s own efforts to work his leg as much as possible. But he knew there were limits to what even he could do, despite the very great desire to walk as others did.
He had grown ill after swimming in a pond on his family’s estate and had often wondered if there had been something in the water which had caused him to grow so sick. His father had dismissed his theory, blaming it instead on a weakness in Robert’s body and mind. No one else in the family had ever had such a thing happen, no matter how many times they had gone swimming in the pond. For that matter, there had never been any weakness at all in the long and storied history of the Marquess of Selden family line. They were the leaders others feared. They were the conquerors, not the ones who could not walk without a hideous and shameful limp.
As Robert had begun the laborious process of learning to walk again, his father had berated him for his weakness. When that did not magically heal him, his father began striking him with regularity during his exercise sessions. When even that did not produce the desired results, his father withdrew completely from him, leaving him to the mercy of indifferent attendants, and forbidding his two younger brothers from having anything to do with him.
When it had finally become apparent that, despite the hard-earned progress Robert had made, he would never walk without a pronounced limp, his father had called him into his study and said he was ashamed that the historic title would one day be handed down to such a weakling.
“Fear not, my lord,” Robert had said. “Mayhap another illness will kill me before that happens.”
His father had leaned back in his seat and said, “God knows either of your brothers would do a better job of it. At least we would not have to worry that the next generation would be deformed imbeciles.”
After that, Robert had been left out of almost all family activities. The trips abroad were deemed too arduous for him and his presence in London too much of an embarrassment. It had been a relief to finally come to school, even if he did have to climb all those stairs.
He was so lost in thought he did not see Percy Reynolds and his gang of idiots until it was too late to avoid them. Robert almost groaned aloud. Reynolds was a classic bully who delighted in exploiting the weaknesses in others. After being treated so cruelly by his father and brothers, Robert was not as bothered by Reynolds’s taunts as he might have been, though they did have the unfortunate effect of making other boys stay away from him. No one wished to incur Reynolds’s wrath by befriending one of his victims.
Robert tried not to dwell on his lack of friends too much, but it was difficult. He had come to school hoping to find acceptance and a friend. After one term, he still had neither.
“Oh, look! It’s the cripple,” said Reynolds, who immediately began imitating Robert’s limp. As expected, the other boys laughed as if they hadn’t seen their leader repeat this very same taunt every day since the start of school.
After Reynolds made fun of his limp some more, Wes Addington tried to draw him away.
“Percy, let’s go!” said Addington. “Appleton just smuggled in some French postcards. The older boys will have confiscated them if we don’t get there first.”
Reynolds would not leave, of course, and after Robert bested him in a duel of wits – the only duel Robert could consistently be triumphant in – Reynolds was seething with anger.
“Drink from that puddle!” Reynolds said to him.
The puddle was disgusting, filled with mud and God knew what else. Robert had a feeling he would be drinking from it eventually, but there was no way he was going to give Reynolds the satisfaction of bowing before him. He raised his chin. “No.”
“What’s that?” asked Reynolds, playing for the crowd which was now gathering and cheering him on.
“I said no,” said Robert. “And what’s more, you’re a bastard. And….a whoreson. And a bloody imbecile.” He tried desperately to think of other insults for if he were forced to drink puddle water, he wanted to be sure it was worth it.
He then took a swing at Reynolds, the first time in his life he had ever done such a thing. Surprisingly, he even connected enough to bloody Reynolds’s nose, though, unfortunately, the momentum he used threw him off balance and he fell to the ground. Humiliation warred with pride, though he also knew pain would soon follow in the form of Reynolds’s retribution.
“Kick him!” said Reynolds to the other two boys, who immediately obeyed his orders.
But then something extraordinary happened. A tall boy named Jones threw off first one boy, then the other. After a moment of shock, they both rushed Jones. But with a few deft moves, he deflected their attack and somehow left them both on their backs winded.
Reynolds’s look of astonishment was most gratifying. “Get off your arses and hold him while I beat him!” he said. But just as Reynolds started toward him, Addington punched him as hard as he could, knocking Percy out cold.
* * *
A quarter of an hour later, after seeing the gratifying sight of a groggy Reynolds being carried away by his ruffian friends, Robert was left with Addington and Jones. He and Jones turned to Wes rather warily. Robert wasn’t certain if this wasn’t part of a larger plan to embarrass him even more at a later date. He had yearned for friends for such a long while, it would be devastating if Addington was only pretending to be nice to him.
Addington inserted himself into the awkward pause. “I’m Wesley Addington. And I am not really Percy’s friend.”
“You’re with him and that gang of his often enough,” said Jones.
Addington’s only response was a not-so-reassuring shrug.
A bell rang out in the tower.
“I have to go,” said Jones. “I serve in the dining room.”
As Addington began gathering his things, Robert asked, “Do you two want to study some night?” He winced inwardly, knowing how desperate he sounded. But he did not want to miss the best chance he’d had in months to make a friend.
For one humiliating moment, neither of the other boys said anything. Then Jones nodded, his dark brown hair flopping into his eyes. “Aye. I’d like that.”
Addington was more non-committal. But at least neither of the boys had said no, which meant this was Robert’s best day of school since he had arrived some five and a half months earlier.
* * *
Robert was in his suite trying not to keep looking at the door to see if either Jones or Addington would appear. He knew it shouldn’t matter. He had spent most of his time alone since coming to school. To be honest, he had been alone most of his life, even while at home with his family. It should not matter if either of the boys came to study with him, though he had placed sweets on a tray just in case.
“You certainly live at the end of the earth, Lorton,” said Addington, who had brought his trunk with him.
For a horrid moment, Robert wondered if Reynolds had commanded that he be placed in it then be brought back downstairs, but he dismissed that, hopefully, fanciful notion. It turned out that Reynolds had kicked Addington out of their quarters.
Then something extraordinary happened. Addington asked to move in with him.
Addington looked a bit uneasy. “If anyone takes me in, Percy will make his life a living hell.”
Robert had a solution for that. “Since he has already vowed to do that to me, you might as well move in here. There is plenty of room.”
Addington agreed, then added, “Percy said the charity students’ rooms have rats. Mayhap Jones could stay here, too, if you would not object.”
“I would like that,” said Robert, who was pleased to know Addington had compassion. “I’ve been alone for much too long,” he added quietly.
“I think all three of us have, even when I was living with Percy and his mates,” said Wes. “I was impressed with the facer you planted on him.”
That made Robert grin. No one had ever complimented him on something he’d done physically, though he had been rather chuffed with himself, as well. “But I am not the one who knocked him out, am I?”
“Do you want to be mates?” asked Addington.
Robert had not been expecting that question from this boy. At least, not that quickly. “This is awfully sudden.”
“How long does it usually take to become friends?”
“I cannot say since I don’t have any. Excuse my reticence, but up until an hour ago you were friends with one of the meanest boys at school. How do I know this isn’t some sort of trick?”
“All I can do is give you my word. My offer is good, even if you do not accept.”
Robert thought it over. He wanted to say yes, but it would hurt too much if this was a cruel trick. “How long will you extend it?”
“As long as it takes,” said Wes with a grin.
After returning from dinner, where they couldn’t find Jones, Robert helped Wes get settled. They were both pleasantly surprised by Jones’s appearance sometime later. It took little persuasion to convince him to move in.
Robert could not believe how much better the future looked now that he had friends.
* * *
Life at school became bearable after that. The climb was still tiresome, but there were times where if Robert forgot an item, one of his two friends would retrieve it for him. Evenings were the best part of the day. When Mark had to work, Robert and Wes helped him finish his duties so they could spend the rest of their time commiserating about the bad food, cold weather and irritating instructors. They also occasionally studied. Robert had never known the joy of friendship before and though the subject was never discussed, he got the feeling it was unique for the other two boys, as well.
While Mark was an excellent student in history and maths, he was a bit behind on Latin and Greek, since he had never had those lessons before coming to school. But with a little tutoring from Wes and Robert, Mark soon rose to the head of the class in those subjects, as well.
As predicted, Percy Reynolds had declared the three of them his sworn enemies, as if this were a medieval tale instead of boarding school, though both could be torturous. Reynolds followed through on his threats of physical violence only when he and his friends outnumbered Robert and his two mates. But even that stopped before too long, because Mark had taught Wes to fight and even Robert was now better able to defend himself, thanks to the boys’ tutelage.
Robert still dreaded the holidays between terms when he was parted from his friends. Wes was always called home, either to his family’s country estate or their house in Mayfair. Mark had to stay at school to earn his keep. And Robert was expected to return home to the estate, though his family was usually mercifully absent. He had asked if he might bring Mark and Wes with him, but his father had adamantly denied the request, implying there was something unsavory about wishing to be alone with two other boys. Robert suspected his father simply hated knowing he had friends.
But as time went by, Robert realized friendship went a long way toward making up for a family which cared little for him. It would be one of the most useful lessons he ever learned at school.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Eton, February 1829
Robert had spent his Christmas alone at his family’s country estate, while his parents and brothers had been in Rome. His father had even given the staff an unprecedented three days of holiday despite the fact he usually bristled at even giving them a half day off per week. But Robert knew it was so he would be alone at Christmas, having to fend for himself. He swore it would be the last time he ever went home at term’s end. He would much rather have spent the time with Mark at school.
Wes, on the other hand, had made an important discovery at home. His father had sired a dau
ghter with the late Countess of Ridgeway. It was the first Wes had ever heard of it, though the girl – his half-sister – must be thirteen.
“Do you want to contact her?” Robert asked.
“Father has forbidden it, though I find it odd to think I have a sister I do not know.”
“It is a good thing you found out now,” said Mark. “Otherwise you might have met at a ball and who knows what would have happened. We should keep the Greek tragedies in fiction.”
“I reckon so,” said Wes with a grin. “I decided to write to her brother. After all, father did not expressly forbid me from doing that. I will ask the earl about her, though it will be deucedly awkward. But I just want to be sure she is doing well, since my father does not care one whit about her welfare. I doubt she even knows of my existence and I do not wish to upset her. I must trust the earl to look out for her best interests.”
“I know I’d be pleased to find a long-lost brother,” said Mark. “Sometimes I wonder if I do have family out there. I was never told anything at the orphanage.”
“I have plenty of people related to me,” said Robert. “Yet none of them feels like family. I wish you well, Wes. And we will do what we can to help. I just hope the Earl of Ridgeway is a good man.”
Wes wrote to Ridgeway and received a response inviting him to visit the earl’s estate for the Lent break. Robert was both worried and hopeful for Wes. Ridgeway’s letter had been polite, though he had expressed some unease that this visit would be conducted in secret and against the Earl of Mayhew’s wishes. But he said he was well aware that some families had unusual connections – the three boys spent a great deal of time analyzing that portion of the letter – and that he believed the meeting could be beneficial. However, he cautioned in the strongest terms that he was very close to his sister and that if Wes hurt her, Ridgeway’s wrath would be severe and long-lasting.
The boys were not sure how to interpret that. They had each had their share of corporal punishment both at school and at home and wondered just how severely Lord Ridgeway would make his displeasure known. But they were impressed with his protection of his sister. And since Wes did not want to hurt the girl in any way, they all figured it was worth the risk in order to meet his sister.
Never and Always (Emerson Book 6) Page 10