The Cynfell Brothers Collection

by Samantha Holt

  Why was that not enough to satisfy her any longer? This past year her love of the business, of the power had been waning. It had started, she supposed, when there had been rumblings of news of her son. Suddenly, gaining yet more money and power did not seem important.

  But what was important to her?

  Anna sighed and closed her eyes. Her son, but there was nothing she could do for him now. She would always remember him, but there was no sense in doing anything other than follow his life from a distance. He was happy, and that was enough for her.

  So she supposed it was Harris, then. He was what was important to her. That little glimpse into his family life, into his brothers’ lives, had teased and taunted her. It had given her a taste of a different sort of life, one where no one judged her or treated her differently. There was so much love between all of those people, and she didn’t think they had any idea how privileged they were to have it.

  “Is that what I want?” she asked aloud.

  After shaking her head, she rested them in her hands again. She just didn’t know. She had never really thought of the future. If she had somehow taken back her son, Stourbridge would not have been a suitable place to raise him. And if she had not, she would have run the place until she was old and grey, she imagined. All she had been focusing on was the endless stream of work the house created.

  A knock on the door jolted her. She lifted her head and winced at the pain in her neck. Somehow, she’d fallen asleep at her desk. Pushing up and trying to smooth her hair, she peered through bleary eyes at the clock. She had been asleep for nearly two hours.

  “Enter,” she said, her voice croaky.

  She stood when Dr Simmons entered. “Thank you for coming.”

  The doctor was a young man—at least for his profession—and only seven years older than herself. He had helped Harris when he’d been shot and was used to coming out to Stourbridge to fix various bumps and cuts when patrons got into the occasional scuffle. Nothing seem to faze the man, and she appreciated his straight-forward approach to life.

  “Miss Dubois, how are you?”

  Anna shook his hand and motioned to the chair. “Please sit.”

  He set down his leather bag next to the elegantly embroidered gold chair.

  “Can I get you a tea or coffee?” She stood to pull the bell, but he motioned for her to sit.

  “Not at all. Nora implied that your business was quite urgent, what can I do for you?”

  Anna sighed. “She should not have done that. There is nothing urgent. I’m sorry you have rushed here.”

  “She seemed quite concerned.”

  “I have been a little under the weather recently, but it is persisting. I had spent time in a household infected with consumption so I wanted to ensure there was no chance I had contracted that.”

  The sandy-haired doctor leaned forward. “What are your symptoms?”

  “I’m extremely tired. In fact, you just caught me sleeping. You know I am not one for sleeping much.”

  “I do indeed.”

  “And I am finding my appetite has gone. Which is odd because it was quite healthy not long ago.”

  “Have you a cough? A fever?”

  “No, none of those.”

  “Then it is very unlikely you have consumption, Miss Dubois. You would have presented symptoms long ago had you contracted it.”

  “I thought as much. I am sorry to have wasted your time.”

  “The chances are you are suffering from exhaustion. I know you are not one for time off but may I suggest a long vacation?”

  “You may, but I may not take it,” she said with a smile.

  “I thought you might say that, but I must warn you, do not let yourself ail further. Your body could be weakening and susceptible to further illness. I have no wish to treat you for pneumonia.”

  “I know, I shall look after myself, I promise.”

  He pulled the bag onto his lap and unzipped it. “Do you mind if I listen to your chest?”

  Anna nodded and drew off her jacket. He stood and pressed a stethoscope to the cotton of her shirt. She waited and breathed in and out as instructed.

  “You sound healthy, Miss Dubois. As I say, rest is in order I think. No person can work as hard as you do and continue to thrive.”

  “Of course.” Though she secretly admitted to herself she was not sure she could take any more time off. While Stourbrige had run well enough without her during her stay in London and Warwickshire, there had been plenty to catch up on. Not to mention she was hoping Harris would visit when his nephew was fully recovered.

  The doctor packed away his stethoscope. “You know where I am if you need me.”

  Anna slipped into her prim jacket and did it up to her neck. While at Stourbridge, she preferred more professional attire. It seemed odd perhaps that she was not always bedecked in beautiful gowns to match the elegant wear of the men and women at her home, but she had found dressing in a certain manner helped her maintain a business-like manner.

  “I apologise again for wasting your time.”

  Dr Simmons shook his head. “It’s been a while since I visited. How is that chap, Lord Cynfell, doing?”

  “Very well. He still limps a little but is recovering well.”

  “A man like himself does not suffer for the limp, I suspect. I imagine many ladies find it quite endearing.”

  “I imagine they do.”

  “Well—” he put on his hat “—if that is all, I shall bid you good day.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” She moved to sit back down but paused when the doctor stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

  “I don’t suppose...” He shook his head as if the idea was laughable. “You will forgive me for saying this, but are your courses as they should be?”

  Anna blinked. “Yes, of course.”

  “Excellent. Then I should not worry.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I see many pregnant ladies with symptoms like yours. If you were any other woman, I would be saying they were expecting.”

  “Oh.”

  “I can see you’re busy, Miss Dubois. I shall leave you in peace. Good day.”

  “Good day,” Anna finally said to the closed door. She stared at the desk, sightlessly before dropping to her chair.

  Her courses...were they...? She could not even say for certain. She had been so busy, she had not even considered...

  She lifted a hand to her mouth. Of course the doctor would not expect her to have a lover or any chance of getting pregnant. She was famed for her dislike of men, and if anyone knew how busy she was, it was the good doctor. He likely had concluded she did not even have the time to take a lover.

  How wrong he was.

  Mentally, she skipped back over the weeks. If she was, it meant her protection had failed.

  She dropped her hands to her stomach and considered her body carefully, trying to compare it to when she had fallen pregnant with her son.

  “Oh goodness.”

  She was with child. She had to be. But what would she do about it? What would she tell Harris?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Two weeks without her and he was beginning to go mad. Harris tweaked his necktie and eyed his reflection in the train window.

  Still, the wait was almost over. Before long, he’d be at her side again.

  His heart bounded, and he felt a little like a silly school boy with his first taste of lust. Hell, he could hardly recall how she tasted or what her skin felt like next to his. It had been far too long.

  He swallowed and peered at his reflection again. He eyed himself severely, daring himself to say it aloud—admit to the words that had been swirling in his mind since she’d left. No, perhaps sooner than that.

  “I love her,” he told himself.

  There. That was not so bad, was it? He even managed to smile at himself. But what was he to do with the knowledge? Anna had come to trust in him, and there was no denying she desired him as much as he did her, but anything more?
He just did not know. Even with having broken down her barriers, he couldn’t tell if the feeling was mutual.

  Perhaps he would get his answer when he visited her, but what would he do once he found it? He’d never wanted to take on a full-time mistress. Somehow, he could not see Anna deigning to be a mistress. It didn’t suit her. So the only other option was...marriage.

  He waited for that inevitable ice to coat his heart, but it didn’t come.

  “Marriage.”

  No, nothing. He said it again before turning away from the window. “Marriage, marriage, marriage.”

  The word didn’t even sound frightening anymore. Instead, it sounded appealing. Christ Almighty, what had that woman done to him?

  He’d visit her. Then he’d make decisions. For once in his life, he would think this through carefully. There was too much at stake here.

  “Sir?”

  The ticket inspector had entered the compartment and was eying him like he was a madman. It wasn’t far from the truth actually. That woman had sent him mad the first moment he set eyes on her. Maybe he’d even fallen a little in love with her then. In lust, certainly, but love...? He smiled to himself. Maybe.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, sorry.”

  “There’s a fallen tree on the track. We’re not sure how long we will be delayed. It’s a big one.”

  “I see.”

  “We’re just letting passengers know that there will be trains from Woking Station. It is only a ten-minute walk down the line.”

  “Right. Yes.” Harris stood. “I shall walk then.”

  The conductor looked taken aback by his sudden movement. “Of course you can stay and wait if you’d prefer, sir.”

  “No, no, I’ll walk. Thank you.”

  Harris snatched up his travel bag from the storage above and made past the conductor. He pushed down the window and leaned out to open the door. Thankfully they weren’t on an embankment or half of the passengers would be rolling down the hill. He noted quite a few had also chosen to walk rather than wait. He was hardly on a deadline, but now he had come to certain conclusions, he had little desire to wait.

  Pushing open the door, he held onto the side and swung himself down, landing on the soft ground. He could stroll ably along to Woking Station and find himself a carriage there. With any luck, he would be at Stourbridge within the hour.

  And he’d tell her he loved her. And wanted to marry her.

  Would he?

  Would she panic? Would she retreat behind that cold wall of hers? He’d thought he’d successfully vanquished that between them, but she was a difficult woman to predict. He had to admit, he liked that a little. Life would never be dull with Anna.

  The steady walk behind the passengers who chose to disembark soothed him a little. It solidified the knowledge that he would not be content keeping her as a mistress. She had been through so much in life; she deserved something good and proper. He almost regretted the way in which he pursued her.

  Almost, but not quite. Had he not, he had no doubt he would never have managed to get close to her.

  When he reached the platform, it was crowded with passengers awaiting the next train. He bypassed them but the people who had disembarked before him had taken up what few carriages were waiting. He peered up and down the road but there was no sign of any other hacks. Damnation.

  Well, he would walk the rest of the way. The house was only a few miles from Woking Station. A little more walking would do him no harm and his leg seemed to be holding up well.

  He set a quick pace, walking out of the town and along the country roads. No carriages passed him by so he had no chance of hitching a ride with someone. By the time he was well out into the country, with great oak trees and bramble bushes surrounding him, his leg had begun to ache. And still no sign of Stourbridge. How far away was the damned house?

  Taking a moment to lean against a farmer’s gate and eye the surroundings, he thought he spotted the tall chimneys of the mansion jutting up from between the gentle rolling hills.

  Still quite a way to walk then.

  Blast him for being so impatient. He should have waited for the next train.

  With a grimace, he walked on, and with each step, his leg grew more painful and more like it was on fire. There was a distinct difference between rowing and walking through London and lovemaking to a country hike. Clearly he was not as well-mended as he’d hoped.

  The thought of seeing Anna pushed him on. He had to be a mere mile away when he paused to rest again. Sweat dripped from his brow, and it wasn’t even a hot day. He really was unfit. Terrible.

  The rattle of wheels perked him up, and he waved to the driver of the cart.

  “How can I help you, sir?” asked the scruffy old man.

  “Could you take me to Stourbridge?”

  The man gave him a look up and down, as if assessing what kind of devil he might be. Apparently he was not too offensive as the man nodded. “Hop on. Though I can’t take you past the gates. I’d likely be shot if I brought my battered old cart anywhere near the house.”

  Harris didn’t argue. Anna fiercely protected her business, and he understood well why. At least, he understood now. She had achieved so much on her own. He had no doubt he would be the same in her circumstances.

  They rolled down the lane at a leisurely pace. The ancient horse stopped every now and then in some attempt to take in the scenery of some such—or at least that’s what it seemed to Harris. It would have been quicker to walk but a lot more painful so Harris managed to keep his patience. The old man cussed and smacked the rear of the animal.

  “Damn beast. She’s a stubborn thing. Almost as bad as my wife.”

  Harris laughed. “Don’t let your wife hear you say that.”

  “She’s bloody well knows it.” The farmer climbed back onto the bench next to him and managed to persuade the horse to continue its deathly slow pace. “A stubborn wife is both a blessing and a curse. They’re determined creatures and not at all fickle. It’s hard to find a lass who isn’t fickle these days.”

  He nodded. Anna would never be fickle; she would never do things by halves. Could she love him? If she did, he had this feeling she would love him fiercely—and he would love her fiercely in return.

  “Well, here we are finally. Be warned, young man, all sorts of sinful behaviour takes place in there. You could lose more than a pretty penny.”

  “Too late,” Harris said. He hated himself for saying such words, even if to himself, but his heart was gone. Lost to the owner of the den of vice. What a soppy fool he sounded.

  “Ah. Well, best of luck to you.”

  The farmer persuaded the horse to move again, but the cart stopped a little way down the path. Harris chuckled to himself at the bellows and curses of the old man. Still smiling to himself, he made his way down the long drive way to the house. The elegant facade hid the true nature of the place. Tall sash windows and long pillars echoed a time when it was home to a grand family. And now it belonged to the woman he loved. It was all quite astonishing really.

  He scowled at the sight of several carts outside of the house. Boxes sat atop the carts, and there were many men moving in and out of the house with more boxes. What the devil was going on?

  He quickened his pace and pushed past the people coming in and out. The main hall that had once housed art and sculptures of the more sinful variety was empty. He peered left and right and stepped into the gambling room. The tables remained, but the bar was empty and no guests were playing. The place, apart from the servants, appeared empty.

  Where was Anna? What on earth had happened here?

  A young lad moved past him and Harris tapped his arm. “What’s going on?”

  The lad looked him up and down and frowned. “Sir? I’m to begin packing away the tables. Mr Sedgewick said I could.”

  “But why?”

  His frown deepened. “To be sold of course.”

  Harris turned on his heel.

  “Should you be
in here, sir?”

  He ignored the shout of the boy and made his way through the private dining rooms and the various drawing rooms. Still no sign of Anna, but the rooms were as bare and as barren as the hallway. He stopped and cursed his idiocy. Her office. That was where she would be. When he had been staying at Stourbridge when she wasn’t in his room, she’d been in her office. He strode through to the back of the house and tapped on the door.

  No answer.

  He pushed open the door and his stomach dropped. It was completely empty. Why would she not tell him if something had happened? He’d received a letter from her not long ago, keeping him updated and that she was looking forward to seeing him. Whatever had happened must have happened swiftly.

  Damn. Why had he not left Warwickshire sooner? Oliver was as well as ever. One would not even know he had been so close to death by the way he ran his mother and father and all his uncles ragged.

  He closed the door. Someone here would know what was happening, he just had to find that someone.

  He headed back outside and paced around the house in the aim of finding someone in a servant’s uniform or Anna’s secretary. He stilled when he caught sight of her. She still did it, still made his heart leap. He might have dropped to the ground in relief if she had not turned and spotted him.

  “Harris! Whatever are you doing here?” She strode away from the group of men she was instructing and came toward him.

  Gone were the tightly done up jackets and severe skirts and in its place was a pretty spring dress with tiny floral embroidery on it. His sisters-in-law would probably call it a teal colour. That was about the limit to his knowledge of fashion.

  “I came to see you, of course. I said I would.”

  “I had thought you would telegram to let me know when to expect you.”

  Her cheeks were slightly red, as though she had been caught doing something wrong. His brows dipped. “I was not sure when I could get away, but I assumed you would be here, regardless. It looks like had I waited much longer, you would have been gone.”

  “If you had telegrammed, I would have explained,” she said, a little annoyance in her voice.

  He grimaced when his leg gave a timely pang. “You could have telegrammed me. A few words would have been all it had taken. Harris, I won’t be at Stourbridge. I’m running away. Something like that would have been easy enough.”