by Cheryl Howe
“Don’t listen to anyone else but me. If you want a brother, you’ll have one. Your mother and I intend to be very happy together.”
Lark jumped to her feet. “That’s what makes them mad. I saw it with my own eyes. I know you don’t believe me, but when my mama and papa were happy, my papa always got sick. Reverend Fitzgerald promised that Jesus would protect me because he loves the little children but who will protect you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
She shook her head and tears filled her eyes. “But you’re sick now. And my mama is sick too this time. You have to believe me because you will get worse like my papa.”
James touched her chin and looked squarely into her serious eyes. “I believe you, Lark. Together we will rid Eastlan of these spriggans. I’ll search the garden high and low until we discover their hiding place. What do you think?”
She wiped her tears and nodded. “I want my mama to be happy and I want to have a brother to play with like other children.”
James stood. “I’ll work on that tonight.” At least, that’s one promise he could keep. “Wesley is waiting.”
Lark grabbed his hand. “He doesn’t want me to have a brother. He’s glad the spriggans made my papa sick.”
James turned to study Lark. Her insight did not surprise him. Wesley had no doubt been in love with Astra long before her husband’s demise. “I have my eye on Wesley Hutton. No aiding and abetting spriggans while I’m the baron.”
“I’m glad you came to Eastlan. Everyone is.” Her blue gaze brightened and a smile broke across her face. Suddenly, James was struck by the striking resemblance between them. Lark truly would be his daughter in every way.
“Not everyone. But don’t you worry. I’m going to attend to him right now. Run along and take care of your mother.” James patted her head, more like he would a dog then he intended, but it was a start. “Tell her it’s going to be fine. I said so.”
Lark nodded then did as he asked, literally galloping down the hall without further explanation. James headed for the stairs, but had to stop and lean against the wall to catch his breath. He hadn’t been this sick since his stint in a prison camp, where he had learned that the difference between death and survival meant a strong stomach. He learned to eat things that would make most people retch. And being a sailor, he could also drink like one, so he shouldn’t be this incapacitated.
James took deep, even breaths to fight off the sharp pain in his gut. Admittedly, he had drunk quite a bit, but this incident rivaled the time he’d eaten a rat poisoned with arsenic. It had been at the beginning of his imprisonment—before the British had decided whether they should treat their captives as prisoners of war or hang them for treason. A fellow prisoner had died from their experiments. The prison officials had called in a doctor to ensure James didn’t have the plague. James had discovered that the prison rats weren’t safe to eat and the good doctor complained of the prisoner’s inhumane treatment. After that, the prison officials fed the Americans just enough to keep them from starving. Thankfully, the locals charitably donated baked goods to supplement the prisoners' diet and James never contemplated eating vermin again.
James mustered his strength, stumbled down the stairs, and swung open the door to his study. Hutton lounged in a chair before James’s desk, his legs stretched out in front of him, not even bothering to adjust his position at the sound of the door. He wore an expensive riding suit and a highly polished pair of knee boots. Wesley’s clothes looked freshly delivered from a very expensive tailor. No doubt he was sporting his best for a second go at persuading Astra to run away with him again. Not that James had heard their conversation, but their guilty expression when he stumbled upon them had spoken volumes. He wasn’t too stupid to figure out what had happened behind that willow tree.
“Comfortable?” James slammed the door behind him. Apparently Wesley had decided to cease his portrayal of the groveling family friend and retainer.
Wesley slowly turned to stare at James over his shoulder, his eyes wide with undisguised shock. Apparently, he had been witness to James’s condition yesterday and must be astonished to see him up and about. Slowly, Wesley rose from the chair and backed toward the desk as if James intended to lunge at him.
James pulled down the ends of his vest and strode to his desk, racking his memory for what he might have done to cause such a reaction. The effort brought on renewed pounding in James’s skull and a sheen of sweat under his coat. God, he needed to sit down. He paused at the side table and poured himself a brandy. Though he almost gagged at the smell, he needed fortification, or at least something to help kill his misery. Either way, he needed a drink.
When James returned his attention to Wesley, the man continued to stare wild-eyed at him.
“I’m not armed so you can relax. If I was going to beat you, I would have done it yesterday.”
James sat in his chair behind his desk, braced himself and took a swig of brandy. The fiery liquid hit his stomach like a hard punch. James gritted his teeth and took another.
Wesley glanced at the door as if he thought to run, then slowly took his seat. “I wasn’t sure if you still wanted to visit the tenants today, but I came anyway.”
James wasn’t about to ask him when he had made the appointment, or admit that he had forgotten all together. Wesley continued to study him cautiously.
“I don’t look that bad. You look like you’ve seen…” James stopped himself from saying a ghost. Too many occupied Eastlan.
“I’ve not seen Lady Keane today. Is she well?” Wesley asked anxiously.
“When I last saw her, she looked quite lovely. But women tend to be at their best after an amorous night.” James would be damned if he let Wesley know he spent his wedding night snuggled against a chamber pot.
Wesley glared, then quickly glanced away, his jaw tight.
“Why the hell are you here?” James said, perturbed that he had to lie about being with Astra and a little disgusted with himself for what he’d said. If he’d actually slept with his wife last night, he would have been too much of a gentleman to say so.
“You have been insisting that we visit all your holdings.” Wesley turned and didn’t bother to hide his hate-filled gaze. “I’m just trying to honor your request, my lord.”
“Honor my request, my ass.” The brandy must have kicked in because James was suddenly in a fighting mood. “You didn’t expect me to come down the stairs today, did you? And why is that Hutton?”
Wesley shifted, crossed his legs. “I…” He began, then paused. “I wanted to ensure Astra was well. She seemed quite upset yesterday.”
“Astra’s well-being is wholly my concern now. You have no need to trouble yourself with her affairs any further.”
Wesley raised his chin defiantly. “Astra shall always be my concern.”
“But never your wife. Be warned, Hutton. I don’t take my marriage to Astra lightly. I won’t tolerate your interference.”
“She doesn’t love you.” Wesley sneered.
“When did sentiment come to play in a proper English marriage?” James shrugged and sat back in chair, pretending a detachment he sure as hell didn’t feel. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you explained this to me yourself the day we visited the village. Love bears no importance. But fortunately my land and title does. I’m quite a catch.”
Wesley kept his gaze on his hands that had become unnaturally still. “I should be on my way.”
“But you never answered my question.” James forced himself to stay behind his desk, not trusting himself within swinging distance of the man. “Why are you here? You said your concerns were for Astra, but here you are in my study. I imagine I would be the last person you would want to see today.”
“My position as Eastlan’s steward is far more important than my personal preferences.”
“You don’t say? You can hardly tell that by the ledgers. Perhaps Astra is your real concern.”
“I love Eastlan as much
as I love…” He paused and took a deep breath. His pale skin blotched with red patches on his cheeks and neck. “Eastlan has been a part of my life since the day I was born. My mother was raised in this very house. She loved this land as much as her brothers. Unlike, your father, she would have never left if she’d had a choice.”
“I didn’t ask to inherit Eastlan, but I have. I take my responsibilities seriously as well. I’m not sure that you are the best man to handle the estate’s affairs.” James had been intending to remove Wesley from his position as steward when the time seemed appropriate. And there was no better time than the present.
Wesley swallowed, apparently momentarily unable to speak. “But I know more about Eastlan’s workings than anyone.”
“And the estate was near ruin when I arrived. Perhaps someone with knowledge of the latest agricultural reforms would be better suited to revive Eastlan.”
“No. No one cares more for Eastlan than I.”
“I care—”
“You care only for the profit you can squeeze from her soil.” Wesley charged the desk and pointed a shaking finger, forcing James to stand. “You don’t care about her beauty, her grace. You’re a disgrace to everything she stands for.”
“I take back what I said, Hutton. I’m positive you’re not the man to handle Eastlan’s affairs. It’s time you moved on.” James returned to his seat and flipped open a ledger. “You’re dismissed.” The man should leave immediately before James stopped caring that he outweighed him by more than a little and broke his stupid finger still pointing in the air at him.
“You cannot terminate me.” Wesley blinked several times, his expression disbelieving. “This land is my life. My home.”
“It’s my home,” James said with a conviction he suddenly realized to be true. He had a wife, a family. And they all belonged here, at Eastlan.
“It should have been mine. Lowell wanted me to inherit. “Wesley braced his hands on the edge of the desk and James wondered if he would have to bodily throw him out.
“Well luckily for me, it was not Lowell’s choice. He might have changed his mind if he knew how you coveted his wife.” James gauged Wesley reaction and wasn’t disappointed.
“I loved Lowell.” Wesley blinked rapidly and paled. “We both wanted what was best for Astra.”
“So much so that you helped his death along?” James stood and slowly came around the desk. “What did you do? Leave his window open at night? Tamper with his medication?”
Wesley backed toward the door visibly trembling. He appeared so ashen, James didn’t know if he’d hit upon something or if he had gravely insulted him.
“I shall go now, my lord. I see that you have much on your mind after the turbulent events of the last few days. We can discuss this further at a later date.” Wesley gripped the door handle, his face now averted from James.
“That may well be true, but I am quite clear in the fact that I’m terminating you.” James rose and walked quickly to the door, bracing his hand on it, halting Wesley’s escape. “Be glad I’m not charging you with misappropriation of funds. Or murder. People seem to grow ill at your convenience.”
“You have no proof to back up your lies.” Wesley abruptly turned away, putting space between himself and James. “Astra will never believe you. No one will.”
“Perhaps not, but I think I’ll be a lot healthier with you out of my life.” James slammed open the door. “My bank account certainly can’t suffer more. I believe you have already been paid for the rest of the month. Consider it your severance pay.”
“I won’t be treated like this.” Wesley stiffened.
“You don’t have a choice.” James stepped away from the open door and slipped back behind his desk.
Wesley calmly met James’s gaze straight on. James’s head cleared with the knowledge that the man was truly desperate not to take the clear escape route offered to him. Eastlan and Astra were everything to him. Desperation made a man dangerous.
“I am sorry you feel this way, James. I hope you will change your mind.” Wesley bowed before heading for the door.
He paused with his hand on the knob. “Astra begged me not to leave England as I’d planned when I heard of your impending nuptials. Do tell her I’m sorry to have to disappoint her. I cannot stay and watch you destroy everything that I care about.”
Wesley finally left the study and closed the door behind him.
James took a deep breath and let the urge to go after him ebb. Beating Wesley to a pulp would only make matters worse. No doubt Astra would find it difficult to believe James’s suspicions. James stood from his desk, and headed for his room before Mr. Rudd cleared away any evidence Wesley might be stupid enough to leave behind. There was a certain doctor who lived near an abandoned prison camp on the coast of Plymouth that he intended to find.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Astra rattled the locked gate leading to Ivy’s small estate. The black iron scroll work hardly budged but a large swirl framed the disheartening sight of boarded windows. Ivy’s brief note had said she intended to leave Cornwall for London. Astra had hoped for the chance to see her first. Apparently Ivy posted her written farewell after her departure. The few lines only claimed that Ivy missed the excitement of London, though she was grateful for her renewed acquaintance with her childhood friend. Astra knew better.
She rang the bell attached to the gate, feeling more bereft than ever. The heavy gong sang mournfully through the damp morning but no one stirred, not even the flock of birds Astra’s first attempt to gain admittance had scared away. She turned from the gate, completely alone. She touched the silk-covered stomacher that concealed her cherished secret. Not completely alone. The pleasurable shock the knowledge of her child brought still surprised her. Her bouts of nausea had subsided to only the early mornings, alerting her to the fact that she was indeed carrying James’s child. Deciding how to tell James became more tortuous the longer he stayed away from Eastlan.
He had not returned for dinner two nights in a row, and had still not been heard from when she left the house in the early afternoon. Mr. Rudd’s vague explanation of James’s whereabouts left more room for suspicion than answers. Even Wesley had deserted her.
“Astra, are you alone?”
As if conjured by her deep need for a friend, Wesley stepped onto the road by way of the dense underbrush surrounding the lane.
“Wesley! I feared you had left England as you had threatened.” Astra’s smile faded when she noticed his wrinkled riding suit and uncombed hair. A faint dark blond stubble darkened his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
He strode toward her. “You don’t know?”
“No. What has happened to you?”
He rushed for her and tightly embraced her. “Your husband is mad.”
She struggled out of his arms to examine Wesley at arm’s length. “Did he hurt you? I can’t imagine James doing anything so violent.” Unfortunately, she could and she worried that James had decided to direct his anger at Wesley. Astra, James had thoroughly ignored.
“I wish it were that. A physical challenge was to be expected from a bully such as James Keane. It is far worse. James has terminated me. Banished me from Eastlan. I am lost Astra. I cannot bear to leave you to his clutches.”
“He is upset. For the most part, James is quite reasonable. He will calm down if we allow him time.” At least that was what she prayed would happen in her own situation. Surely James would forgive her eventually and things would be as they had been between them. He had to realize the child she carried was his. Who else’s would it be?
She stared at Wesley and her hopes dimmed.
“I shall talk to him,” Astra mustered. “Try to talk him out of this.”
“It will do no good. I must leave England. I beg you to come with me.” Wesley gripped her elbow.
“I cannot.” Astra easily pulled from his pleading touch. “There are things…” Astra stopped herself from telling Wesley about her condition. James should be the first
person she told. “I am legally married to James. I will insist James return you to your position.”
“We had words. Ugly words.” Wesley turned his profile away from her and studied Ivy’s recently vacated house. “I must leave the country. I could go to prison if I stay.” He lowered his head. “I’ve done something, Astra. Something awful and I hope you can forgive me.”
Her first fear was for James. “What have you done? Is James all right? Where is he?”
Wesley lifted his head, and she saw a flash of hatred that chilled her. “Oh, Astra, where do you think he is? With his mistress, I’m sure.”
“But I’m his…” Astra suddenly realized that she was no longer James’s mistress but his wife. The other position was conveniently vacant. Or so she hoped.
“Have you seen Melva about lately?” Wesley’s strange laugh sickened her as much as his words. “I doubt it. At least he had the decency to set her up elsewhere now that he has a wife underfoot.”
Astra could not believe James would have the foresight to do something like that, but he had caught on to English custom quicker than she had expected. And despite not wanting to, she had noticed Melva missing from Eastlan along with James.
“What has that to do with you? What have you done, Wesley?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t wish to upset you, but I have put you in danger. James insinuated that I mishandled funds from Eastlan and I fear he is correct.”
“Is that why Eastlan is bankrupt?” Astra covered her mouth and shook her head. “Why would you do that? You love Eastlan as much as I.”
“I did it for you, Astra. I wanted you to have the inheritance you and Lark deserve.” He gripped her shoulders and tried to pull her to him.
“I don’t understand.” Astra shook off his touch though she felt a bit lightheaded.
“You have an account with over twenty thousand pounds.” He balled his hands into fists at her rejection of his touch, but wrapped his arm in front of him instead of reaching for her again. “It would have been more, but…I wish you would have consulted me before you sacrificed yourself to that beast.”