When the Splendor Falls

by Laurie McBain

  What had initially amused him, then troubled him, however, had been the strange look the mulatto maid had given him when he’d seen her passing by the door, craning her long neck to see inside the parlor, her slanting yellow eyes piercing as they settled on him as if in recognition, and he would have sworn she’d mumbled an incantation beneath her breath as she hurried from his sight, bumping into the grizzle-haired butler and nearly overbalancing the tray of juleps he carried.

  “There you are, Nathan.” Euphemia greeted her eldest son as he entered the library, her words drawing Neil from his thoughts of Travers Hill.

  “Papa! Papa! I poured the tea, just like a proper lady, Gran’mama said,” Noelle cried out proudly, her flying feet carrying her into her father’s outstretched arms with unladylike speed.

  “What an armful you’ve become,” he complained with a deep laugh, thinking his daughter was growing up far too fast for his peace of mind. His gaze traveled across her dark head to meet his wife’s, and the warmth exchanged between them was as declarative as if they’d spoken aloud of their love.

  Neil moved uncomfortably as he witnessed the gentle meeting of glances, and he looked out the window again, his restless gaze seeking something unknown in the peaceful landscape beyond.

  “I fear becoming a representative has brought me rather more work than I suspected. Never realized there were quite so many people who wanted attention,” Nathan said, accepting the brandy Adam had poured for him.

  “Or favors,” Adam said. “I warned you against becoming successful,” he reminded him. “Brings you nothing but trouble. You will never be able to please everyone.”

  “You’ve finished your correspondence for the day, then?” Althea asked, thinking Nathan had time for little else nowadays, even his practice. “Come here, dear,” she said, holding out her hand to Noelle. “One of your ribbons has come untied.”

  “Completely, at least for now. I fear I shall have to hire a secretary by year’s end, though,” Nathan said, joining Neil by the French windows. “Ah,” he sighed, taking a deep swallow of his brandy. “Never knew a fellow could work up such a thirst at so quiet a task, nor that I would look longingly at dusty law books. It’s good to see you looking so well, Neil.”

  “And you,” Neil returned, a smile of genuine warmth momentarily softening the hardness of his mouth as he raised his glass.

  “I did not have a chance to tell you yesterday how very sorry we were to hear of your wife’s death.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It must have been very difficult for you, and for your wife’s family. Something so tragic, well—”

  “Yes,” Neil interrupted, his almost rude abruptness usually discouraging further questions or offers of sympathy, but Nathan was his cousin, and a lawyer used to getting information out of difficult witnesses or defendants on the stand. Nathan ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end, which was a sure sign to those who knew him that he was troubled. And he was, for he was suddenly thinking of his own cousin as if he were a criminal he was trying to get a confession from. And yet his lawyer’s instinct told him that Neil was hiding something from him. But what?

  Neil swirled the brandy around in the crystal globe of the glass, warming it against his palm, then he emptied the contents. “I did not murder Serena, if that is what is troubling you so.”

  “Good Lord! Certainly not,” Nathan said, wondering whether he should feel more offended or guilty by his cousin’s offhand remark. Either way, it made him all the more uneasy. “I did not think anything of the kind, Neil.”

  “Then I apologize,” he said, inclining his golden head slightly in deference. “But there were many who thought as much. It is no secret that I came close to being lynched by an angry mob of my wife’s bereaved relations, and others who saw a chance to rid themselves of my presence.”

  “So I gathered.”

  “Yes, of course, your mother and my stepmother have few secrets and their will to correspond is without equal. But as you can see, I survived, as I always seem to.”

  Nathan wanted to reach out and comfort his cousin, and his friend, but he knew his gesture would seem pitying, and Neil was not a man to be pitied; feared, yes, but never pitied, even though Nathan could sense the deep wound that Neil carried within and allowed no one to heal.

  “It would seem as if I timed my arrival perfectly. I understand that there will be quite a celebration this weekend when one of the Travers daughters announces her engagement on Friday. Perhaps Stuart Travers will know a generosity of spirit, and prove his hospitality to a stranger by not trying to rob me when selling his bloods,” he commented dryly, wishing to change the subject.

  And Nathan, this time, was willing to allow him to do so. Looking surprised, he said, “That news, which has yet to be announced, certainly traveled fast. I would not be in the least bit surprised to learn you heard about it in the territories,” he declared, then following Neil’s glance, he nodded good-naturedly. “I should have realized that Julayne would not be able to hold her tongue concerning so momentous an occasion about to occur in the county.”

  “Then it is true?” Neil asked casually, as if amused by the whole affair.

  “Yes,” Nathan confirmed, and having glanced away to watch his daughter pirouetting across the carpet, he didn’t notice the tightening of Neil’s mouth. “Althea told me last night that Matthew Wycliffe will ask permission of her father this weekend for Leigh’s hand in marriage. And from what Althea confided in me concerning her sister’s feelings, I would say Leigh will accept without hesitation. If anyone knew the truth of the matter, or of Leigh’s heart, then it would be Althea. They are quite close, even for sisters.”

  “A love match?” Neil murmured.

  Nathan looked at his cousin thoughtfully, for he had not missed the edge of sarcasm in his voice.

  “Yes, I believe so. Although, even were it not, they would be well suited to one another, and it could prove most providential for Travers Hill.”

  “Really? In what way? Travers Hill looked quite prosperous when I rode in yesterday. And I was in the stables. One can usually tell the state of affairs from the condition of the stables, and I’ve seldom seen any finer.”

  Nathan laughed. “That is because Stuart Travers loves his horses almost as much as he does his family, and to Sweet John, his handler, those horses are his children. This is in confidence, and I would not speak of it outside of our family, but Stuart Travers is dangerously in debt. He has even mortgaged Travers Hill to pay off his most outstanding debts, and were not the man who held the mortgage a gentleman, and soon to become his future son-in-law, then, well…” Nathan shook his head, amazed anew at how quickly a man’s fortunes could change.

  “How very convenient, and farsighted of this Wycliffe fellow. Having met Leigh Travers, I can understand the man’s determination, despite the cost, to make her his wife. She is exquisite, and quite extraordinary,” he added.

  “Yes, Leigh is a lovely young woman, and much sought after. She has countless beaus, and would be welcomed as a daughter-in-law in any family in the county, despite the Travers family’s reputation for being slightly unconventional. But since they are so well liked, and have one of the best stables in the South, and Beatrice Amelia Travers is so very proper, they are forgiven their little eccentricities.”

  “Then this Wycliffe is even smarter than I suspected. For how better to ensure his position of favor than to have the daughter of the family, whom he hopes to wed, feel indebted to him for saving the family home and fortunes,” Neil said, his eyes narrowed in thought, an unpleasant twist to his lips as he speculated upon Matthew Wycliffe.

  “True, but you’re mistaken about Matthew Wycliffe, Neil. Were it any other man, I might be inclined to agree with you, for it is not unknown for a man to take advantage of a situation in order to strengthen his suit with a lady. But Wycliffe is no scoundrel. In truth, he is the most honorable gentleman of my acquaintance,” he admitted, and Nathan was an excellen
t judge of character, and his approbation and respect were not given unless well deserved. “I’ve never met so high-principled a man. In all of his business and personal dealings, with those of his own station, and even with those who do the most menial work for him, he is evenhanded, generous, in fact, to a fault. I have never heard even a breath of scandal attached to his name.”

  “Obviously a paragon,” Neil said.

  “Some have said as much. You might think, and with every reason, that a man like Wycliffe, with his family name, which is highly respected, his fortune, which is vast, and his appearance, which has made him the most eligible bachelor in the South, would be supercilious, and yet he is one of the most unpretentious people I know. He and Guy Travers, one of Leigh’s brothers, have been friends for years. And he has most kindly recommended, without expecting anything in return, my law practice to friends of his who have need of legal advice here in Virginia. Mrs. Travers is from Charleston, and they visit relatives there quite often, and Leigh attended finishing school in Charleston, so when Leigh moves to South Carolina with Matthew, she will not be without her family and friends. I can honestly state that I cannot think of anyone I would rather see Leigh marry than Wycliffe. I’m very fond of her. She’s quite a young woman.”

  “Yes, so it would seem,” Neil said softly. “She is very beautiful. In fact, the whole family would seem to have been so blessed.”

  Nathan smiled, glancing over at his wife as he nodded his agreement. “Unfortunately, that is also the biggest cause of Guy Travers’s problems. Things, and people, come too easily to him. He doesn’t have to work hard enough to get what he wants,” Nathan said, voicing his first criticism of the Travers family.

  Neil smiled. “I had the distinct impression that he took an instant dislike to me.”

  Nathan frowned. “I had hoped you would not have noticed.”

  “It was rather hard not to when everything Adam said about my years with the Comanche, the stories of which even I admit have become highly exaggerated over the years and many a retelling, was questioned and dismissed by Travers as lies.”

  “I’d hoped you wouldn’t take offense, either. Guy can’t stand to be bested. For a good bit of his life he has heard Adam’s and my tales of you. I’m afraid you’ve become a bit of a legend around here, Neil. Guy is competitive. And he can ride as well as anyone I’ve ever seen, except for you, and one other,” he said, laughing as if at a private jest. “He knows that, and he’s jealous of you. Don’t be surprised if he challenges you to a race to prove who is the better rider, because unless you beat him, he’ll never accept it, and even then he’ll probably find a good excuse to explain his loss. Guy also loves to bet, too much for his own good. It is a pity, because, if given the right opportunity, Guy could become a fine man one day,” Nathan added, wondering what on earth could change the course of that young man’s life. “But Leigh, now Leigh is different. You’ve never seen her ride,” Nathan said with a wide grin of pleasure, “but the wind couldn’t catch her.”

  “No, but it would seem as if Matthew Wycliffe has,” Neil said, smiling slightly as Nathan laughed at his remark and turned the conversation to other, far more important subjects, but try as he may, Neil could not banish quite so easily the image of Leigh Travers from his mind—or his heart.

  Ten

  The wicked are wicked, no doubt, and they go astray and they fall, and they come by their deserts; but who can tell the mischief which the very virtuous do?

  William Makepeace Thackeray

  Friday. It was the day of Blythe Lucinda Travers’s sixteenth birthday party. Leigh glanced up at the house. She could see the veranda, crowded with people milling about. Some gentlemen were lounging on the steps, while others sat more decorously on benches and chairs close to the ladies, and the refreshments were being served by the green-clad majordomo and his elite troop of footmen, who seemed to be at every elbow at just the right moment with another tall julep or pale lemonade. The droning sound of voices, raised in chatter and laughter, drifted to Leigh across the gardens. The household was in a turmoil, with her mother and Jolie meeting themselves coming and going as they tried to stay a step ahead of the countless, last-minute details that suddenly popped up. Since midweek, carriages had been pulling up every few minutes and unloading family and friends to be settled in the guest wings, the unattached gentlemen placed in the rambling, genteel quarters between the house and the stables. Even Guy and Palmer William had given up their rooms to take up temporary residence with the other bachelors, where their late-night hours, filled with drinking and gambling and, perchance, vulgar jesting, might not disturb the more refined of the guests and their families visiting Travers Hill.

  But this afternoon, Leigh had escaped it all to wander down to the paddock, where the only disturbing sounds were those of softly neighing mares and the gentle thudding of hooves as their foals galloped playfully around the meadow, perhaps sensing, with a quick sniff in the air, the last days of summer were approaching all too quickly. In the cool shade of an oak, Leigh stood leaning against the split-railed fence.

  Neil Darcy Braedon. That was the stranger’s name—not Dagger, as Adam had been so quick to tell her. His cousin. And no stranger, as she had mistakenly thought, nor a common ranch hand, as Adam had claimed. And not a man easily dismissed by anyone. But then, she hadn’t been Rose, the servant, either. And had the tables not been turned so suddenly and surprisingly on her, she might have enjoyed the discomfiture that had momentarily flickered across his hard face when she’d descended the stairs and been introduced to him as one of the Travers family. Adam, however, had certainly enjoyed his little jest, and she’d hoped he would choke on his laughter all the way home to Royal Bay.

  That had been four days ago, but her anger flared briefly again as she remembered Adam’s grinning face and the endlessness of that day, at least until Nathan and Althea, accompanied by Adam and their cousin, had left for Royal Bay. Neil Braedon had held an adoring Noelle in his arms as he’d made his polite farewells. Far too young and innocent to realize the danger of the man, Noelle had grinned down at everyone from her superior position above their heads. Holding out her arms to each of them, she’d demanded her customary hug and kiss, which Neil Braedon had generously allowed her by bending slightly to each person so she could wrap her short arms around their necks. Leigh had received her tight hug and smacking kiss from her niece, but it had seemed to her heightened senses as if Neil Braedon’s face had come far closer to hers when he bent down, bringing their lips embarrassingly close for just a moment, their eyes locking above Noelle’s dark head, before she was released and could step away, her heart pounding. She hadn’t seen any of them since, except for Althea when she’d come calling with Euphemia Braedon two days later.

  She didn’t care that he hadn’t come back to Travers Hill, that he had obviously found far more interesting things to do with his time, Leigh told herself for not the first time that week, wondering why she felt insulted by his actions. She suspected she felt exactly the way the serving girl he’d mistook her for would have when her gentleman lover had failed to return after enjoying her favors. How differently he had acted toward her before discovering she was a Travers, pursuing her ruthlessly, tracking her down, and trying to seduce her. But as soon as he’d learned she was no serving wench to be bedded and abandoned, his ardor had cooled considerably. Obviously, Neil Braedon was a man who took his pleasures without wishing to be held accountable for them. She would no longer be of interest to him now, she thought, wondering why that made her feel so angry, and so humiliated. Neil Braedon was nothing to her—nothing. So why should it trouble her, hurt her so, that he hadn’t come near her since that day. He’d wanted only a dalliance with her, a quick tumble in the hay, those had been his own casually spoken words. To have sought her out, to have offered her an apology for his actions, to have learned more about Leigh Travers, to have befriended her, had not interested him. No, once he had realized that she would say nothing of their embarras
sing encounter, he must have heaved a great sigh of relief. Yes, that was the manner of man this Neil Braedon, this Sun Dagger, was.

  Of course, she had heard all about the Braedons’ cousin from the territories that first day when he’d sat in the parlor of Travers Hill, his gentlemanly demeanor almost proving false the colorful stories Adam had entertained them with concerning his cousin’s unusual childhood. And despite herself, and pretending polite interest, she’d listened avidly to Adam’s talk of his cousin’s kidnapping by the Comanche, and the never-ending pursuit by Neil’s father to rescue him and his sister Shannon. And even if Guy’s questions had bordered on rudeness, his guffaws of skepticism becoming embarrassing after a while, he’d managed to elicit a great deal of information. But Blythe had more than made up for her brother’s lack of hospitality by her enthusiastic insistence on knowing every detail of Neil’s life. And he had been very patient in his good-natured answers to Blythe, even when she’d asked the awkward question about his dead wife, demanding to know if it had been the Comanche who had left her stranded in the canyon. Even Adam had had the grace to look slightly apologetic for ever having brought the subject up. But Leigh hadn’t been able to forget the expression that had crossed Neil’s face when he’d been reminded of his dead wife. It had been one of pained remembrance, and Leigh had known then that he must have loved her deeply, still loved her, and no other woman would ever be able to replace her in his heart.

  And for the last few days, even though she’d not seen the man, her curiosity about him had been satisfied again as Guy had regaled her with stories about the legendary Braedon cousin from the territories. Guy had ridden to hounds at Royal Bay and Evergreens. He was one of the best huntsmen in the county and he and his prized hounds were sought after for every hunt. He’d joined the shoot at River Oaks Farm, and after each day’s sport, he’d enjoyed a night of gambling and drinking with his gentlemen friends and their guests, among them Neil. Unfortunately, at least as far as Guy had been concerned, he’d held the losing hand far too often and lost heavily, and most often to Neil, which had angered him all the more, and Guy was as quick-tempered as their father. Leigh suspected had it not been for the calming influence of Adam, and a restraining hand gently yet firmly placed, her brother would have been guilty of accusing Neil of cheating, for he claimed no gentleman’s luck could hold for so long. If he played fair, that was.