by Diana Bold
“Of course.” Julian frowned. “Does he need a doctor?”
Christian gave a violent shake of his head, still unable to draw enough breath to talk.
“No,” Ethan answered for him. “He’ll be fine. He just needs to get home.”
Julian hurried off down the hall, and Dylan and Ethan assisted Christian toward the exit. Ethan hated the way everyone stopped what they were doing to stare. His friend must be dying of embarrassment.
Relief poured through him when they reached the club’s front steps. Their coach pulled up moments later, with Julian himself at the reins.
He leaped down so the harried coachman could take his place and rushed to Ethan’s side. “Do you need me to come with you?”
Ethan shook his head. “Thanks. But we’ll be fine. May we postpone that dinner invitation?”
Julian nodded and helped Christian into the coach. “We’ll do it later in the week. Bring Christian and your fiancée.”
“We’ll be there,” Ethan agreed, then signaled the driver to make haste for Christian’s townhouse.
This latest coughing fit had rendered Christian weak as a kitten. When they arrived home, Ethan ignored his friend's protests and carried him bodily up the stairs to his room.
Jessalyn met them in the hall, her brow creased with concern. “What happened? Is he all right?”
Ethan shook his head, and Jessalyn followed in their wake, her lip caught between her teeth in worry.
As he lowered Christian onto the bed, he was struck by how slight and unsubstantial his friend seemed. They'd once been comparable in weight, but he feared Christian had lost at least a stone. Christian's face was pale and wasted. Impossible to believe he'd been laughing and exuberant just yesterday.
"I'm sorry," Christian rasped. "I ruined everything."
"Nonsense. You did nothing of the sort."
"I wanted you and Julian to work things out."
"We did," Ethan assured him. "At least, we made a start. Now that I'm back, we have all the time in the world."
"That's good." Christian leaned back against the headboard and fumbled in the nightstand drawer for a bottle of laudanum.
Jessalyn brushed Christian's hands aside and retrieved the bottle. "Are you certain you don't want me to send for the doctor?" Her forehead wrinkled with concern as she measured the correct dose and brought the spoon to her brother's lips.
Christian took the medicine with a look of mule-headed irritation and then sank back. "I'm fine. I just need to rest."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Ethan took her hand and squeezed it in warning. Christian had already suffered enough humiliation for one night.
"Good night, Chris," he said.
Christian attempted a wan smile. "Goodnight."
Jessalyn was still frowning when Ethan led her from the room. "I really think I should get the doctor," she muttered, once Ethan shut the door. "He's getting much worse."
He sighed and leaned against the wall. "I think he knows that. But let him be the one to decide when it's time to send for the doctor. After all, what can anybody do for him now?"
She buried her face in her hands. Her slender shoulders trembled with suppressed emotion. "I'm so afraid for him. I don't know what to do."
"I know." With a feeling of inevitability, he gathered his future bride close and tucked her head beneath his chin. "It's all right to cry, Jess."
God knew he felt like crying himself.
She tensed for a moment, then melted against him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest. "Oh, Ethan. Thank God you're here. I don't know how I'd ever get through this on my own."
His arms tightened convulsively, even though her words eviscerated him. He didn't want her to rely upon him, didn't want to see the light in her eyes fade when she realized how unworthy he was.
As much as he enjoyed having her in his arms, he was all too aware they were embracing openly in the middle of the hall. Anyone might come upon them, and he didn't want Jessalyn's reputation to suffer any more than it already had.
"You should go to bed," he whispered.
She looked up at him, tears filling her wide blue eyes. "Don't send me away, Ethan. I can't bear the thought of being alone right now."
In truth, he didn't fancy the thought of being alone either. "Where shall we go?"
She took his hand and led him down the hall. Her bedroom suite was lovely, decorated in light shades of peach and green.
He hesitated in the doorway, his gaze fixed upon the huge, canopied bed in the center of the room. He didn't think she was issuing that sort of invitation, but his entire body tensed as though she had.
He would give anything to spend the rest of the night making love to Jessalyn. He longed to find forgetfulness in her arms, if only for a little while.
To his mingled dismay and relief, Jessalyn led him to a cozy little sitting area in the corner of the room near the fireplace. Two overstuffed chairs sat in front of a merry fire, and he settled himself across from her, glad for the warmth. He'd been cold ever since he'd returned to England. His body had become accustomed to sultry South American climes.
“Who is Julian?" Jessalyn asked, as soon as he was seated. "Is that where you were today?”
He sighed and stretched his feet toward the fire. He supposed he could change the subject, but maybe it was time she knew the truth.
Perhaps once he told her, she'd realize he wasn't fit to be a husband. In fact, if she refused to marry him, perhaps it would release him from the promise he’d made to Christian.
"Julian is my brother. The only family I have left. We haven't spoken in years and probably never would have, if not for Christian's interference."
“I've always been under the impression that you didn't have any family.” She leaned forward in her chair, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. "What happened to keep the two of you from talking for so long?"
Unable to meet her guileless gaze, he toyed with the cuff of his jacket. It was hard to force his lips around the words he’d held inside for so long.
“When I was twelve years old, my twin sister Elizabeth and my oldest brother Nathaniel died in a terrible accident.” He closed his eyes and tried to force away the image of Lizzie’s terrified face. “It was my fault. Everyone blamed me.”
“Oh, Ethan.” She threaded her fingers through his. “I’m so sorry.”
He’d worshipped Nathaniel. And Lizzie had been so much a part of him, he still felt like he was missing half his soul. He would have blamed himself regardless. Still, he hadn’t expected the fury his father had directed upon him, the beating that had almost killed him.
Even his mother, lost in her own bottomless grief, had turned away from him.
“The last time I spoke to Julian, he told me he hated me. He said he never wanted to see me again.” Ethan gave a weary shrug. “I took him at his word.”
“That was a long time ago. I’m sure he spoke out of anger and grief.”
He sighed. “That’s what he said. He claims he never meant those things. Never hated me.”
“But you’ve hated yourself, haven’t you?” She ran her thumb over the scar on his wrist and erased any lingering doubt that she’d seen it. “You’ve blamed yourself more than anyone else ever could have.”
He pulled away, feeling naked. He forced himself to meet her gaze as he pushed out of his chair. “So, now you know my darkest secret. Still want to marry me?”
“Of course.” She reached out an imploring hand. “Don’t go. Sit back down and tell me the rest of it. Tell me what happened to Elizabeth and Nathaniel. Tell me why you think it’s your fault.”
“I can’t.” Panic clawed at the back of his throat as he strode for the door. The ghosts of his past followed hard on his heels.
Chapter Eight
Later that week, Jessalyn stared in wide-eyed wonder as Christian’s coach pulled up in front of a magnificent St. James Square mansion. When Ethan had first mentioned his brother
had invited them to dinner, she’d never expected this.
“Is your brother a duke?” she joked in an attempt to lighten her future husband’s mood. Ethan’s shoulders were tight with tension; his expression more brooding with each passing block.
He shook his head as the coachman opened the door. “No. He’s just an earl.”
Just an earl?
She remained frozen in place as Ethan alighted and turned to offer her an impatient hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She slid her gloved fingers into his and allowed him to help her down. “Do I look presentable enough for dinner with an earl?” She’d hate to embarrass Ethan in front of his brother.
“You look beautiful.” He gave her hand a distracted squeeze. His troubled gaze swept the façade of the mansion where he’d spent a large portion of his childhood. “I thought you knew my brother was Lord Basingstoke. I never meant to keep it a secret.”
She let him lead her toward the front door, but her mind whirled with this new information. For some reason, she’d always assumed Ethan came from a wealthy merchant family, perhaps minor gentry. She’d never guessed his father was an earl.
How could she not have known this?
She wasn’t given much time to ponder the situation, because Lucian and his lovely blonde fiancée waited for them in the sweeping front hall. The earl’s resemblance to Ethan was obvious, though his hair was darker and shorter. Lord Basingstoke exuded a polished elegance, where Ethan radiated a coiled wildness, even in his fine, tailored evening wear.
“Ethan!” The earl rushed forward to envelop Ethan in a bone-crushing hug. “It’s good to see you again.”
Given Ethan’s disturbing tale about his childhood, the earl’s exuberant show of affection surprised her. She’d expected the evening to be strained and awkward.
She gave the earl’s fiancée a helpless glance. “I feel as though I’m intruding on a private moment.”
The other girl wiped a few happy tears from her cheeks. “It’s so good to see them together. I was afraid they’d never mend their differences.”
Jessalyn wished Ethan trusted her enough to take her into his confidence. She wanted to know why he blamed himself for the tragic accident that had claimed his brother and sister’s lives.
The two brothers broke apart, and the earl gathered his fiancée to his side with a look of pure adoration. “Lady Jane Bennett, do you remember my brother, Ethan?”
Ethan glanced at his brother’s fiancée, then broke into a wide grin. “Janie? My God, you’ve grown up. I didn’t realize Julian was marrying our old neighbor.” He turned and drew Jessalyn forward. “Lady Jessalyn Hunter. My fiancée.”
Lord Basingstoke detached himself from Lady Jane. "Lady Jessalyn." His dark eyes saw far too much as he brought her gloved hand to his lips. "So good to finally meet you. I’m sorry your brother couldn’t join us this evening."
“Lord Basingstoke.” She gave him a nervous smile. Her unconventional upbringing in the country had left her socially inept. She feared she’d make some blunder of etiquette and embarrass them all. “It’s good of you to invite us. Lord Harding sends his apologies.”
“Call me Julian.” The earl bowed over her hand. “We’re soon to be family, after all."
“Let’s dispense with all formalities, shall we?” Jane motioned toward an open door down the hall. “I believe dinner is about to be served.”
Jessalyn liked Jane immediately. Lovely and refined, the woman did her best to make sure everyone around her felt at home. Her fair complexion glowed whenever she looked in Julian's direction. She obviously loved the earl to distraction.
Julian seemed similarly besotted. "A six-month engagement didn't seem too long when I proposed, but it's been endless.” He winked at Jane as they took their places at the dining room table. “If only it were still possible to rush off to Gretna Greene. I can't wait until the entire thing is behind us."
"When do the two of you plan to be married?" Jane smiled at Jessalyn. "In the spring?"
By springtime, Jessalyn would have already given birth. At a loss, she glanced at Ethan. She had no idea how to answer. They hadn’t even spoken about setting a date.
"I can’t wait six months to make Jessalyn mine." Ethan gave Jessalyn a look filled with sensual promise. Even though she knew it was an act, it took her breath away. "We've no one to invite except Christian and the two of you, so I hope to have the ceremony as soon as it can be arranged."
Julian looked startled and not at all pleased by the news, but he recovered quickly. "That's wonderful. I'm happy for you both." His restraint was admirable.
"Thank you, Julian." Ethan gave his brother a confident smile, but his lean body tensed. She knew he hated lying.
"Have you thought about where you'll live after the wedding?" Julian asked.
Ethan squeezed Jessalyn's hand. "I believe we'll make our residence at Harding Hall."
Julian cast an apologetic glance in Jessalyn’s direction. "Rumor has it that Harding Hall now belongs to the Marquess of Rothgar."
"I intend to buy it back from him," Ethan replied. "Jessalyn has her heart set on raising our children in her own childhood home."
Our children. Her heart skipped a beat to hear him say such a thing. How she wished her child really was Ethan’s. The thought of truly raising a family with him made her weak with longing.
Julian frowned. "Rothgar won't sell. The bastard owns half the country and is working on buying the other half."
"He'll sell," Ethan said. "I'm willing to meet whatever price he sets."
"Perhaps." Julian gave his brother a speculative look. "But may I suggest another option?"
"Of course," Ethan replied, rather stiffly. She could tell he hated the idea of being indebted to his brother in any way. Once again, she wondered what had happened between them.
"I recently acquired a new estate of my own, in much the same way the Marquess acquired Harding Hall. Briarwood is almost brand new, but best of all, the man was an orchid fanatic. The estate boasts a huge, modern greenhouse and laboratory. Go take a look at it. If you like it, it's yours. Consider it a wedding present."
Ethan shook his head. "I can’t accept such a gift. I didn't come here to take anything that's yours."
"I know," Julian replied, his expression pained. "If it will make you feel better, you can buy the damned place from me. But I really think you should see it. It’s perfect for you. We'd live there ourselves if Jane wasn't in love with Basingstoke."
Jessalyn felt Ethan shudder at the mere mention of the family estate. She promised herself to try and find out the reason at the very soonest opportunity.
"Perhaps we'll look at it," Ethan agreed. "But I'll leave the decision to Jessalyn."
The decision was to be hers? She stared at her future husband in surprised delight. For the first time in her life, someone cared about her opinion. Even Christian had chosen her a husband without first asking what she thought about the matter.
She caught Ethan's gaze. "Thank you," she mouthed, wanting him to know how much it meant to her.
Embarrassed by Jessalyn’s gratitude, Ethan squeezed her hand. Such a simple thing, to consider her opinion in deciding something as momentous as her future, yet he sensed no one had ever done so before.
The evening was proving to be far more enjoyable than he’d imagined. He thanked God that Julian and Christian had conspired to bring him home. He’d needed his brother’s forgiveness more than he’d realized.
“I’m looking forward to having you home at Basingstoke for Christmas.” Julian shook his head with regret as he signaled for dessert. “The old place has been empty for far too long. I can’t wait until the halls ring with children’s laughter again.”
“You’re having the wedding at Basingstoke?” Ethan’s tentative sense of well-being vanished with his brother’s words. It had been hard enough to come here, to his family’s London house. The thought of returning to Basingstoke chilled him to the bone.
�
��Of course,” Jane answered, unaware of his distress. “We’re planning a candlelight ceremony in the estate chapel.”
“That sounds lovely.” Jessalyn’s voice held a touch of wistfulness, and he felt a momentary pang of regret that he couldn’t offer her the wedding of her dreams.
Julian caught his gaze, and his eyes narrowed at whatever he saw there. “If you’d like to skip dessert, I have some excellent cigars in the library.”
Thankful for the reprieve, Ethan nodded. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies. My brother and I still have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Oh, of course.” Jane beamed at them, and his future sister-in-law earned a place in his heart when he saw how much she truly wanted Julian to be happy. “Take your time. I’m sure Jessalyn and I can find plenty to talk about, with two weddings to plan.”
Ethan followed his brother out of the dining room and down the hall to the library, his gaze catching on the family portrait on the landing. Elizabeth… Nathaniel… His mother…
Guilt and regret washed over him. He stumbled and gripped the banister for support. The memories came fast and hard. He’d been a fool to ever believe he could bury the past.
Julian’s footsteps slowed, then turned back toward him, but Ethan couldn’t bring himself to meet his brother’s gaze.
“I don’t know if I can return to Basingstoke.” Ethan’s voice was ragged, much like Christian’s after a coughing fit. Hating for his brother to see him like this, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Julian. But being here, seeing that damned portrait, remembering the way things were before I ruined everything… It’s killing me.”
Julian clasped his shoulder. “Give it some time. Let yourself become accustomed to the idea. I think going home would do you a world of good. It’s just a place, after all. Basingstoke only has the power to haunt you if you let it.”
Ethan gave a mirthless laugh. “Tell that to the ghosts in my dreams.”
“I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” Julian squeezed Ethan’s shoulder once more, then released him. “If you feel this strongly about returning to Basingstoke, I’ll talk Jane into having the wedding here. Whatever it takes to have you by my side.”