by Regina Darcy
“You have a lot weighing on your mind, I think.”
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to Thayne’s and saw nothing but concern in his expression—and still, her wariness remained.
“Mr Thayne, as I have expressed to you already, my foolishness of late will, quite certainly, turn you from me,” she said slowly. “Besides which, I cannot tell whether your intentions are truly good as you have said or if there is a darker motive behind your kindness.”
A shadow passed over Thayne’s expression. “I am not a cruel man by nature, miss.”
She shrugged. “I cannot know that for certain, sir.”
A sigh of exasperation left his lips, but Christiana forced herself to remain unmoved. She had learned her lesson in blindly trusting Lord Archibald and was not about to do so again.
“That is fair, I suppose,” Thayne murmured, after a moment’s silence. “Might I surmise that you were on your way to Scotland?”
An ice-cold hand grasped her heart.
“You need not look so surprised,” Thayne continued, with a quick smile. “This is on the way to Scotland, and it would not be the first time that such a thing has happened to a maiden.”
Swallowing hard, Christiana tried to smile. “I believed the gentleman in question cared for me a good deal.”
“And he left you here, alone?” Thayne pressed gently. “But why?”
Christiana shook her head, her throat working painfully for a moment. “He did not leave me here, at this inn,” she admitted, wondering why she was so willing to talk to him about what had happened to her. “I awoke in the carriage to find myself entirely alone.”
Something like fury flitted across Thayne’s expression. “You were left alone in a carriage?” he repeated, leaning forward across the table as though he could not quite believe what she had said. “With none to help you?”
Closing her eyes so that she would not give in to tears, Christiana nodded jerkily.
“The blaggard,” Thayne muttered, his expression dark. “And you made your way here?”
It took Christiana a moment or two to regain her composure, determined that she would not cry a single tear for Lord Archibald and what he had done.
“I was blessed in that I had thought to take my reticule and pin money with me,” she answered, glad that her voice was not breaking with the pain of it all. “It was behind where I was sitting, and I had to spend what I had on food and a room here for a day or so whilst I thought about what to do next. Growing swiftly desperate, I asked the innkeeper if I might work for my room’s board, and he agreed, given that he has only one other maid and she is not at all well at the present moment.” She managed a rueful smile, dropping her gaze to the table so that she would not have to see the compassion in Thayne’s eyes—a compassion she could not count on.
“And you have no recollection of this fellow leaving you alone in the carriage?” Thayne asked, sounding a little confused. “How can that be?
Now came the worst of it. She would have to confess to her own gullibility.
Fidgeting, Christiana looked about her, but there was no wiggling out of the truth. Finally, she confessed, “I believe Lord Archibald—for that is his name—put some laudanum in a beverage I drank. When I awoke, my head was in terrible pain, and it was hard to regain my focus.”
“Unfortunately,” she continued, one hand pressed to her chest as though she might feel the pendant still there, “unfortunately, Lord Archibald took my most precious possession from me, after ensuring that I brought it when I left my father’s house.” Her eyes were swimming with tears, and she was almost too afraid to continue, desperate not to make a fool of herself in front of Thayne. “My mother passed away some years ago and left me with an emerald pendant. I have worn it almost every day since. Lord Archibald knew this and encouraged me to make certain I wore it the day I left London. He—he took it from me.” Her voice was hoarse now, her words sticking in her throat. “It is priceless to me, but he did not care. I was nothing more than something to be used for his own benefit.”
She could not look up, aware of the warmth on her cheeks from her tears. She was crying silently, unable to prevent the steady flow of both pain and regret.
Suddenly, she felt Thayne press something into her hand and, catching her breath, looked up to see him handing her a small white handkerchief. Such a small kindness had her tears overflowing all over again, and she cried into it for a long time. Christiana did not care who saw her pain, realising that in sharing her story with Thayne, she had let loose the dam that she had built up within herself the last few days by refusing to let herself feel a single thing.
“My dear lady, I am truly sorry for what you have endured,” Thayne said quietly. “Although I confess, I am not surprised to hear it. You see, I am acquainted with Lord Archibald.”
Her eyes shot to his, her breathing catching in her chest.
“He knew my wife before she wed me,” Thayne continued, his voice low. “I believe they were known to one another from childhood, and he attempted to have her wed him, believing her to have a dowry large enough to take him from his present financial difficulties.” He shook his head, a small, sad smile lingering on his face. “He was quite wrong in that regard, I’m afraid, although no amount of talking to him would convince him of that fact. My dear lady was loyal to the betrothal that was already in place and wed me, as was expected. Neither of us heard from Lord Archibald again and certainly did not so much as think of him. How sorry I am to hear that he has not changed in his ways.”
Christiana closed her eyes tightly, feeling her sea of pain begin to settle into a calmness of spirit. “I cannot return to London, given the shame that will befall my family. My sister, Prudence, is not yet wed, and I will not risk her reputation. I have written to them and pretended that all is well. That will remove some of the burden from their minds, I think.”
Thayne sat back in his chair and eyed her carefully. “That is most considerate of you, miss, but how are you to look after yourself?”
“I…” She trailed off, looking down at her empty plate and wondering if it would be the last warm meal she would have for some time. “I do not know, sir,” she admitted quietly. “I want, more than anything, to have my emerald back—not because of how expensive it is or how much it is worth, but because of what it means to me. I want to show Lord Archibald that he is not the victor in all of this, that I am not cowed in defeat, but that, I think, is something of a foolish dream. I can do nothing alone, and yet, I have no one else to turn to.” She still could not understand what it was about Thayne that allowed her to speak so openly to him, so freely, and yet, it was as though the words forced themselves from her lips, refusing to remain unsaid.
Thayne regarded her carefully for a few moments, although there was nothing malicious or lecherous in his gaze. Instead, he simply studied her as though trying to work out what he ought to do.
“I am not your responsibility, Mr Thayne,” Christiana said quietly, when the silence grew too much to bear. “You need not worry about what will happen to me. As I have said, all of this is my own doing, my own responsibility. Somehow, I will find a way.”
Thayne’s lips curved upwards. “You have a strong spirit, I think.” Leaning forward again, he touched her hand for a moment before withdrawing it. “Please, might you not tell me your name? I do not judge you for what has occurred; I swear it. It is Lord Archibald who is at fault in this matter. Had he been honest and true in his profession of love to you, then you might now find yourself wed and settled.”
Christiana let out a long breath, steeling herself.
“Lady Christiana,” she answered, her voice hoarse, “youngest daughter of the Marquess of Winchester.” She closed her eyes upon hearing Thayne’s sharp intake of breath, her shame mounting with every moment, sending heat flooding into her cheeks.
“My goodness,” Thayne murmured. He said nothing more; unable to take the silence, Christiana opened her eyes to see him smiling at her. Her own lips c
urved in response, as though in telling him her name, she had taken a small step towards trusting him.
“I can well understand why you do not want to believe anything I have to say,” Thayne said calmly, once she was looking at him steadily. “But I mean you no harm. The truth is, my lady, I cannot abide Christmas, and assisting you with this particular matter may help me endure what is to me a terrible season.”
Her brows lowered. “You dislike Christmas?”
“Dislike?” He laughed, the sound harsh and grating. “Dislike? I hate it with every fibre of my being, my lady.”
“Might I ask why that is, sir?” Christiana asked curiously. She did not want to press him, but found that she wanted to hear the story from his lips, as though knowing why would give her some sort of reassurance that he could be trusted.
Something flickered in his eyes.
“Because,” he replied softly, “one Christmas, some years ago, I came home to find my wife murdered.
FOUR
Christiana rose from her bed the following morning, feeling stiff and sore. It was a feeling she had become used to the last few days, given that she had been working harder than she’d ever had to in her life before. Normally, she would have to rise quickly in order to help the innkeeper prepare the place for morning breakfast, but this morning, she was able to take her time.
Forced to break the thin layer of ice in the bowl of water, Christiana shivered violently as she washed quickly, silently praying that the carriage would have hot bricks within it to keep her warm. Dressing as fast as she could, she set about pinning up her hair, ignoring the shivering that was going on within herself.
She was not certain what it had been about the Honourable Mr Thayne that had her agreeing to go with him to some boarding house a good hour’s carriage drive away, but she had, for whatever reason, said that she would allow him to help her. The way Thayne had looked at her had sent a shiver racing down her spine—but it was not one of fear or displeasure, instead rather a sensation that told her she was almost excited at the prospect of going with him.
“But that is only because you are to be free of this place,” she told herself, looking at her reflection in the shard of mirror that had been placed on the windowsill in her small, dank room. It was not at all because she felt anything for Mr Thayne, especially when she was as uncertain of herself as she was of him. Her foolish heart had led into one predicament already, the consequences of which she would not be able to escape from. However, if Thayne proved to be as honest and as trustworthy as he claimed, then she might, at least, be able to recover her pendant.
But what then?
Hesitating, Christiana looked out of the window, which was so dirty that she could not tell whether or not the day was truly as dark as it seemed. Once she had her pendant back, what would she do? Write to her father? Pray that he might see fit to allow her to return to the family estate, even though she had disrespected his wishes, been foolish, headstrong, and going so far as to lie to her own sister about her supposed happiness?
A wretchedness filled her soul that almost took her breath away. She wanted to lie back down on the straw-filled mattress and sob until the pain dissipated, even just a little, but Christiana knew she could not allow herself to do such a thing. In fact, she was learning, slowly but surely, that she had a good deal more strength and fortitude than she had thought. When she had first awoken in the abandoned carriage, she had been frightened half to death, but now here she was, preparing to take leave of the inn where she had managed to procure enough work to keep herself fed and dry.
“And if Thayne turns out to be a cad, then I shall simply dispense with him and make my own way for a time,” she said aloud, attempting to fill her heart with the courage she needed. Quite what she would do in order to ‘dispense’ with Thayne, she was not quite sure; although, should it come to it, she did have her hair pins. They were small, yes, but would easily deliver a sting that could deter someone attempting to wrong her.
“Let us hope I will not need it,” Christiana murmured to herself, sliding the last pin into her hair. That done, she picked up her reticule—the only item she had to call her own—and walked from the room.
Thayne was waiting for her as she walked out of the front door of the inn, glad to be on route to solving her problem. Her stomach tightened anxiously as she made her way towards him, seeing the way he smiled at her with an apparent genuine happiness that she had chosen to go with him.
“Thank you for being so prompt, Lady Christiana,” he said, bowing in front of her. “I have organised a carriage as you can see. I will not be riding with you, however. I have my own stallion to take home.”
“Oh.”
Her breath left her in a rush, leaving her feeling weak with a sudden sense of relief. There was nothing to fear, it seemed. Thayne would be riding alongside her, not sitting opposite her in the carriage. It was not something she had realised she had been afraid of until this very moment, as though she had half expected Thayne to try and seduce her the very moment they were alone.
“There are hot bricks waiting for you,” he continued, his breath frosting the air between them. “Now, if you are ready, might we go?” He chuckled as he stamped his feet, rubbing his hands together. “It is very cold, is it not?”
“Indeed,” Christiana replied, her lips curving into a delightful smile as she watched the way the sunlight touched the frost-covered grass by her feet. There was something about these cold winter mornings that was utterly enchanting, and, to her mind, just as beautiful as the warm mornings of summer. Walking towards the carriage, she accepted Thayne’s hand as she climbed into the carriage. She had no gloves, and for whatever reason, he had not been wearing his own; from such a simple touch, Christiana felt a sudden heat ripple up her spine.
“I procured a muffler for you,” Thayne said, sticking his head into the carriage before closing the door. “The hot bricks will keep your feet warm, of course, but there are blankets for your lap should it become a little chilled.” He indicated the pile of soft blankets opposite her and the muffler that sat on top.
Picking it up, she marvelled at the softness of it and could barely speak at such generosity, wondering where he had managed to find something so beautiful in the short time they had been apart.
“Thank you, sir,” she murmured, feeling her fingers growing warm already. “You are very kind.”
“After how you have been treated, I think you deserve as much kindness as I can give you,” Thayne replied, a serious look in his eyes although he was smiling. “Now, onto the boarding house. It will be a little over an hour, I think, for there is no snow on the ground which is a relief. Mrs Hardcastle is expecting you. I sent a note this morning.”
“Mrs Hardcastle?” Christiana repeated, a little confused.
He grinned at her, his face lighting up and sending a dart of happiness into her own heart.
“I apologise, Lady Christiana. Mrs Cordelia Hardcastle is the lady who runs the boarding house. In fact, the place is called Hardcastle House! She is a rather stern creature but has a good heart. I think you will like her, and she will have a room prepared for you. Do not worry about anything, Lady Christiana. You will soon be settled again very soon.”
So saying, he shut the door and shouted to the driver to make his way forward before mounting his stallion. Christiana could not help but watch him from the window of the carriage, a slow growing contentment deep within her. She had not made a foolish decision in trusting Thayne, it seemed. She was not to be taken advantage of in any way. This place, Hardcastle House, seemed quite genuine, and she found herself beginning to trust Thayne entirely.
“He is not like Lord Archibald in any way,” she murmured to herself, pulling a thick, cosy blanket over her lap before replacing her hands in the fur-lined muffler. She was being treated with kindness and respect and all by a stranger who barely knew anything about her.
Her heart soared just as tears burned in her eyes. Finally, she had a little glimm
er of hope after what had been devastating days. Days when she’d been lost in a new world entirely of her own making, with no way out of it. And then, the Honourable Aaron Thayne had taken one look at her and realised, somehow, that she needed his help. He had known that the inn wasn’t where she belonged, knew that she needed to find a way out of her troubles, and, for no other reason, had offered her his aid.
Christiana could not help but look out at him from her carriage window, seeing how well he rode. His expression was set firm as he rode his black stallion alongside the carriage, as though ensuring that she would come to no harm. Tears warmed her cheeks, and she dashed them away quickly, before putting her hands back into the warm muffler. She did not need to cry any longer; she would regain her normally happy disposition. Whether or not she found her emerald necklace, she was quite sure that Thayne would not simply turn around and leave her at the boarding house with no means to support herself, not after he had rescued her from the inn and that life of squalor.
“He is a good man.”
The words were spoken aloud, and Christiana waited for doubts to assail her, for her memories of Lord Archibald to come flooding back to her—but they did not. Instead, there came a gentle reassurance in her heart that what she had said was absolutely true. Aaron Thayne was a good man, even though he had suffered such loss and devastation in his own life.
He had not said much about the passing of his wife, although she had been able to see the torment in his eyes when he had told her that the culprit still remained at large. Five years had gone by, and he had still never once found the person responsible for taking Ramona Thayne’s life. How terrible that must be! How much of a burden for him to shoulder every day of his life? Yet, despite that, he had not become bitter or angry, not shrivelled up with his grief and pain. He had remained steady and determined, for he had told her last evening that he had every intention of bringing the man to justice, whomever he was. Somehow, in some way, he would find the truth.