Promise: A Lords of Action Novel

by K. J. Jackson

  Momentarily dumbstruck by her mother’s unapologetic gall, Talia’s eyes went to slits as she stepped to her. “Does it matter if Louise is married? Does it matter to anyone but you? Do you hear yourself Mother? This is madness. Louise is not in a position right now to be courted. To be married. To be with society. It has only been days—”

  “Do not say it.” Both of her mother’s hands flew up, stopping Talia’s words. “Do not even utter it, Natalia. We will speak of what happened no more.”

  “Yet it happened, Mother.”

  “No, it did not.” Her mother glanced over to Louise in the bed. Tears still streamed down her face. “It did not happen if Louise is to make a proper match. Move on with her life. Move on with a husband.”

  Talia’s voice dropped low, and she turned slightly away from Louise. “You are assuming she can move on with her life. There are certain things Louise will never be able to hide from a husband.”

  “She will. I will school her on what she will need to do.”

  Talia’s head shook. “Louise jumps every time someone touches her, Mother. This is far too soon to force her into society. What sort of match do you expect her to make?”

  “She will improve at this, Natalia. We need only work at it.” Her mother’s arm swung in a wide arc. “We do not have time to waste. We have to keep up appearances, now that fortunes have changed for us. We need to salvage what we can of Louise’s prospects for marriage—if only she could have entered the marriage mart years ago. As it is now, we do not have the luxury of time, and every single one of those ladies below is crucial to that end—to Louise making a match.”

  Growling, Talia rubbed her forehead. “Mother—”

  A sharp knock on the door cut Talia’s words. She went to open it.

  “Mr. Flemstone.” Talia stepped aside to let the doctor and the nurse into the room before closing the door. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  Mr. Flemstone was already to the side of the bed, looking down at Louise with worried eyes.

  Talia looked to her mother, her voice shaking, just barely under control. “Mother, please, you need to go below and finish whatever it is you are trying to accomplish with those ladies, and then rid them from this house.”

  Her final glare evident, her mother moved past Talia without a word, anger in every step. Talia opened the door for her, and she exited Louise’s chamber.

  Closing the door, Talia ducked her head as she took a deep sigh, attempting to control her right hand that wanted to grab the vase within reach on the bureau and heave it across the room.

  She looked up only to see Mr. Flemstone reach down and gently pick up Louise’s hand. Her sister didn’t jump. Didn’t cower.

  Louise jerked away when anyone—even Talia—tried to touch her. But with Mr. Flemstone, nothing. Louise was as solid as a rock.

  Her tears, in fact, had dried.

  Talia looked from her sister to Mr. Flemstone, curiosity squinting her eyes. He continued to whisper to Louise in a low rumble, his look never veering from Louise’s eyes.

  And then it happened. The slightest curl to Louise’s lips. A smile. Tiny. But it was a smile. Talia had thought to never see her sister smile again.

  She approached the bed, stepping behind the physician. “What did you give her?”

  His hand not releasing Louise’s fingers, he glanced over his shoulder at Talia. “Actually, nothing. I weaned her off of the laudanum days ago.”

  “You did?” Panic clutched Talia’s heart. “But that was the only thing calming her—that is cruel.”

  Talia recognized the instant look Mr. Flemstone gave her as patience for the ignorant.

  “It would be crueler to keep her on it, Lady Lockston. I do not intend to have her harmed, and I have seen too many become harshly dependent upon the substance.” He looked back to Louise. “I am not about to allow that to happen to your sister.”

  Talia shook her head slowly, staring at the profile of the physician. “No, I do not suppose you are, Mr. Flemstone.”

  She looked down to her sister, recognizing for the first time the obvious adoration—but more importantly, trust—in Louise’s eyes as she looked up at the doctor.

  Talia backed away from the bed, nodding at the nurse by the door as she passed her. Talia left the room.

  Thoughts firing, saturating her mind, Talia’s feet moved down the hall and stairs on their own accord.

  When she looked up, Talia realized her feet had brought her to the center of the rear gardens. She stood in the middle of the neat rows of the dormant gardens, her boots crunching the cold gravel of the path.

  Having never taken off her cloak, she tightened the heavy wool around her waist. The cool air wrapped around her head, chilling her flushed cheeks.

  She stood for minutes, unable to lift her feet from that spot.

  Glancing upward, she found her sister’s window in the back of the townhouse. The peach curtains were drawn, an extra layer against the chill.

  A deep inhale and the cold air went sharp into her nostrils, stinging. She exhaled, her eyes not veering from the window.

  All of her problems were solved. Louise saved. Her mother already working to rebuild their social status—whether Talia wanted it or not. A beautiful house to live in. Food more than plentiful. More money than she could ever imagine spending in five lifetimes.

  Every single thing wrong had been righted.

  Everything.

  Yet here she stood, lost, in the middle of long-dead plants. Hollow.

  A hollow hole gaping in her chest that only grew larger each day.

  She had tried to ignore it. Hoped it would ease. But it remained, casting a shadow over everything she had thought she needed.

  Maybe her mother was right. Pride had no place when happiness was at stake.

  She did not want this life.

  She wanted Fletch.

  And she wanted him alive.

  { Chapter 15 }

  Shifting on the hard settee, Talia pulled her shoulders as far back as she could strain them. She had feared her anxiety would flare on the carriage ride to Aunt Penelope’s home, but now, sitting inside her warm drawing room, Talia felt at ease for the first time in a social situation since her father had died.

  “Tell me, dear, what has prompted this unexpected call?” Ensconced in a wingback chair that hugged her perfectly, Aunt Penelope donned a short silver turban that matched her silver day dress. The color brought sparkle to her grey eyes. Shrewd eyes that settled on Talia.

  An exquisitely translucent Spode teacup and saucer had been thrust into Talia’s hands by a maid immediately upon seating, and it afforded her an elongated moment of silence as she carefully took a sip and then set down the cup and saucer onto the low table in front of her. Her hands folded on her lap as she met Aunt Penelope’s look, attempting to keep the creep of humiliation from flushing her neck. Talia had hoped for a few minutes of inane chatter, but she should have known not to expect it from Fletch’s aunt.

  “Do you know where Fletch went to—currently is?”

  “I do, dear.” Aunt Penelope didn’t flinch with the question, but her head tilted slightly to the side. “Why is it that you need to ask me?”

  “He left. Left me.”

  “Why?”

  Talia’s bottom lip drew inward, at a loss. Why did he leave her? She wanted to bear his child? She wanted him? She wanted the exact thing a wife would want from a husband?

  “He finally told you of the curse?” Aunt Penelope asked, her eyebrows rising into her wrinkled forehead.

  “He did.”

  “You did not react well?”

  “I do not know how I reacted.” Talia shrugged. “It was not right, whatever I did. I thought…I want him, Aunt Penelope. I told him as much. I do not believe in this curse, but even if it is true…I want him.”

  “I told that fool boy he needed to tell you before you were married.” Her cane hit hard on the floor, the area in front of her chair a battered mess of bruis
ed and torn wood. “Selfish of him, but I let it slide. He deserves happiness—at least for the next months.”

  Talia’s breath caught. “So you believe he will die as well?”

  “I have witnessed the death of every male in my family by the age of thirty-three, my dear.” Her fingers tightened over the gilded pigeon on the top of her cane. “So yes. I have no choice but to believe in the curse.”

  Talia nodded, trying not to let Aunt Penelope’s obvious acceptance of Fletch’s upcoming death dishearten her own hope.

  “I can see the hope in your eyes, child. Hope is dangerous. Hope will destroy everything.” She waved her cane in the air at Talia. “For that fact alone, I will not tell you where he is. If Fletcher desires to be alone, I must respect that. He left you for a reason, dear.”

  “No.” Talia scooted to the edge of the settee, leaning forward. “Please, you must tell me. I am denying every shred of pride I have just to come to you, Aunt Penelope. Please.”

  “Pride is a tricky thing, dear. It too easily manipulates one’s objectives. Yet pride does not deliver results.”

  A chuckle burst past Talia’s lips.

  “Dear?”

  Talia’s fingers flew in front of her mouth. “I apologize. My mother said very much the same thing not but two hours ago.”

  “She did?” The cane tapped lightly on the floor. “I shall have to reacquaint myself with your mother.”

  Talia nodded, attempting to keep the dryness from her voice. “I am positive my mother will make that happen very soon.”

  “Good.”

  “But what of Fletch, Aunt Penelope? Please tell me where he is. For whatever I did, I know I asked too much of him, and I need to make it right.”

  Aunt Penelope leaned forward, her hands clasping on the top of her cane. Her eyes went to slits, burrowing into Talia. “I have one question for you, dear.”

  “Whatever it is, I will tell you.”

  “How do you love someone that you know will die at any moment?”

  Talia’s gaze met the steel in her grey eyes. Unflinching, her answer was immediate, her words shaking with vehemence. “As hard as I possibly can. Within every single second, enough for a lifetime. That is how.”

  Aunt Penelope stared at Talia for long seconds, weighing her words. With a pleased grunt, she sat back, letting the chair wrap her once more as she nodded. “Good, girl. He is in Surrey, staying with his friend, the Duke of Wellfork, at Wellfork Castle two hours south of London.”

  A pent-up exhale whistled past Talia’s teeth, her chest tightening. “Thank you.”

  “But you cannot travel alone, dear. I will ask Lord Reggard, Rachel’s widower, to accompany you. He is family, and he still does my bidding. Rachel made a wise choice with that one.”

  Talia nodded, her mind already planning.

  She would get to Fletch. And she would make him listen to her. Make him see that, curse or not, he belonged in only one place. With her.

  ~~~

  Her back so ramrod straight it ached, Talia had forgotten how much maintaining the proper posture at all times could hurt. Her face angled to the carriage window, her eyes slipped to the left to steal another glance at Lord Reggard.

  He was a titan of a man with the surly disposition to fit. His large frame swallowed the bench across from her in the carriage—he was not only tall, but wide. Talia could tell by the lines of his finely tailored jacket dropping inward toward his waist, that his girth came from muscle instead of fat.

  He had said little more than five words to Talia since he had picked her up from her townhouse, the line of his mouth never veering from the bottom lip that insistently pushed upward, forcing a constant frown. True to Aunt Penelope’s declaration, he still did her bidding, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed being called upon.

  They had left early in the morning and were now already outside of the last sprawl of London, fields lining the road.

  Talia turned toward him, a smile forced onto her face. “I do apologize, Lord Reggard, that I have taken you away from your…” Her voice trailed off. She had no idea what this man did to fill his days.

  “It is no bother. When Aunt Penelope barks, I jump. I always have. Rachel always enjoyed watching me squirm under her aunt’s unnerving eye.”

  Talia expelled a nervous giggle, her body relaxing slightly. “I am not the only one, then? I do imagine she has half of London jumping at the slightest twitch of her pinky.”

  Half of his mouth curled up, close to erasing the surly lines along his eyes. Several stubborn lines of discontent lingered, but Talia was happy with the slight progress.

  “I do not doubt it,” he said. “I only hope when I am her age, I will wield my cane just as splendidly. She does not even need that thing for walking.”

  “She doesn’t?” Talia’s head cocked to the side. “I wondered at that. She can be unusually spry when she desires to be so.”

  “I heard she was rather quick to follow you and Lockston into the Vauxhall Gardens.”

  “You heard that? She is a canny one.” A flush tickled Talia’s neck. She didn’t want to have to revisit the embarrassment of her and Fletch getting caught in the gardens. She forced her voice light. “But still, you must have much better things to do than to accompany me in a chase after my wayward husband.”

  He brushed an invisible spec from his black trousers. “I wondered if you would admit to that.”

  “The wayward husband part?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have already swallowed my pride on the matter, so I will not attempt to cover my reason for this trip to Wellfork Castle,” Talia said. “I do not intend to make Fletch’s escape from me easy.”

  His eyes narrowed at her. “It is three months until his thirty-third birthday. Aunt Penelope told me you are aware of what that means?”

  Talia’s eyes went to the ceiling of the carriage, a cold inhale taking hold of her chest. “That fool curse Fletch believes in? Yes, he told me. It is why I am after him.”

  “To try to convince him he will live?”

  “To convince him that a curse—whether or not it is real—should have no bearing on the present.”

  Lord Reggard nodded, the blue in his eyes darkening as he looked at her. The center of his bottom lip lifted, returning his mouth to a frown. “Can I tell you a story?”

  Talia felt her own mouth go to a grim line, reflecting the somberness in Lord Reggard’s eyes. She nodded.

  He looked out the window, pausing as he gathered his words. “When I was five, I had the grandest dog that ever lived. A Spaniel, the best hunter in the shire, Goldie.” A soft smile touched his lips and he looked at Talia. “I loved that dog more than anything, and I still don’t think I loved her more than she loved me. Goldie slept at the foot of my bed every night. Would jump up the second I arose, licking my leg. Until I was nine. I woke one day, stepping out of bed, and there were no licks. Goldie was not there.”

  Talia’s heart sank, her breath held.

  “At first I thought she had snuck down to the kitchens. Or that a new housemaid had shooed her out of my room. I looked everywhere. But she was gone from the castle—nowhere to be found. I was frantic. My father knew what was happening, but he went out into the countryside with me anyway, searching for her.”

  Reggard’s hand went to the back of his neck, scuffing the short hairs as his gaze went back out the window. “I found her under a bush, not too far into the woods. She was wheezing, hacking. Fighting for every breath. I reached for her, but she would not have it. She nipped at me. Me. She was my shadow for four years. I was her world. I tried again to grab her. She bit me. Bit me hard. And then she took her last breath.”

  Talia couldn’t help the instant tears welling in her eyes.

  His head shook. “I couldn’t believe she had left my side in order to die alone—she knew I was the one that loved her the most in the world, but she did not want to die with me. Alone. She wanted alone. My father said it was innate—Goldie knew she was dyin
g and left because she didn’t want to weaken the pack.”

  He took a deep breath, his wide chest expanding, taking up even more of the bench he already nearly filled. His gaze meandered back to Talia, lazy, but when it landed on her, Talia could see the heartbreak, still, in his eyes. “But I never believed my father—I believe Goldie did it as a kindness to me, so that I would not see her suffer. Would not have to witness her last breaths. To the end, she tried to force me away, tried to protect me from it.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck spiking, Talia shook her head. She knew exactly what he was insinuating, and she would not have it. “But that is not dignity—dying alone under some random bush. That is selfish and insulting to all that loved it.”

  Lord Reggard pursed his lips, nodding. “Possibly. I think it depends on one’s perspective.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So you are defending Fletch’s actions? Defending his abandonment of me?”

  “I cannot defend something I know nothing of.” His hand lifted, palm outward to Talia to calm. “I do not know what has happened between the two of you. But I know that you are willing to go after him, and I also know the curse he has lived with his whole life. How it has shaped his perspective. So between what I can imagine, and what Aunt Penelope has said to me, I can see there is a bond between the two of you that Lockston does not know how to handle. I doubt he knows what to do with himself in his current married state.”

  Talia sighed, calming her pounding heart. Lord Reggard was not her adversary. Nor was she sure he was her ally. “You have known Fletch for some time?”

  “I have known Lockston for a very long time. Lockston, and I, and the Earl of Newdale were inseparable for many years—since childhood.”

  “The three of you are friends?”

  “The most loyal of friends once.” Lord Reggard’s eyes dropped, darkening with the words.

  “But not now?”

  “No.”