The old man, his eyes closing again, smiled smugly. "Because I cheated, Jon."
Jon smiled sadly. "You didn't cheat. I let you win."
"Liar."
Jon laughed, his hushed voice oddly comforting to them all. "So I am."
Hunter's father took Jon's hand and with his last bit of strength, brought it to his hollow chest. It rose and slowly fell and then didn't rise again.
Mab cried out.
Alexandra brushed Hunter's shoulder with her fingertips. "I'm sorry," she whispered, not knowing what else to say that could comfort him.
Jon sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment and then gently pulled his hand out from under the Earl of Dunnon's hand. Looking one last time on the old man's face he covered it with the sheet and rose. He walked past Hunter and Alexandra toward the door. "If you need me, I'll be in my chamber."
Hunter and Alexandra quietly stood there listening to the sound of Mab's soft crying. Outside a rooster crowed. Soon it would be dawn.
Hunter sat at the long mahogany dining table long after Jon, Alexandra and several overnight guests had taken their leave. A green glass decanter of brandy wine rested in front of him, but the glass was empty. Liquor wasn't going to solve his problems. Headaches lasting three days had convinced him of that.
Hunter wet his finger and ran it along the rim of the glass, listening to the hum. Earlier in the day, he had buried his father in the small churchyard beyond the south walls of the castle. He had laid him to rest in a grave among many graves. The funeral guests had called Hunter, Dunnon. Lord Dunnon. The Earl of Dunnon.
Hunter still couldn't believe his father was dead. And now the true weight of the earl's responsibilities were on his shoulders. Crossing his arms on the table, he lowered his head to rest his forehead on his forearms. He'd promised Alexandra he'd come up to bed and turn in early with her, but he couldn't bring himself to go upstairs.
"Master Geoffry?"
Hunter lifted his head to see Mab in the doorway. She was dressed in her cloak with a bag tucked under her arm. Now that the earl was dead—she had told Hunter—it was time for her to retire to her daughter's cottage in Dunnon village. Tonight she would sleep there.
"Mab?"
She stepped into the large dining hall and closed the door behind her. "I got something to say to you, Master Geoffry. Been thinking about it since your father died."
Hunter motioned for her to take the chair to his right but she shook her head. "He should have told you, but he didn't."
"Told me what, Mab?"
She hung her head. "I thought sure he would say. I never thought he'd go to the grave with it."
"What Mab, what are you talking about?"
She fussed at the cloth bag she held in her hand. "You take a look at it for yourself. You do what you think is best. I don't know that it's right to go against a dead man's wishes when he makes it obvious what they are, but . . ."
Hunter groaned, running his hand through his hair. "Mab, what are you babbling about? I don't have the patience or the energy tonight."
She lifted her head, her gaze meeting his. "I'm talking about a piece of paper you got to see."
He turned in the chair. "A paper?"
"Aye. In his desk. Pull out the center drawer. She sticks, so pull hard. Look on the bottom."
Hunter rose. "Some sort of document. You're not making any sense, Mab."
She turned away from him and shuffled back to the door. "Do what you will . . . what you think is right. I don't know. I just don't know."
Hunter followed her out. Mab, who had always been so sensible, was now making no sense at all. She was in shock no doubt. "I'll have someone take you down to the village in a coach."
She waved him away. "I need the walk, Master Geoffry. Now you see to the paper. Destroy it. That's what he told me to do, but I couldn't."
Hunter opened the door for her. It was the first of May. Already, the air smelled of turned soil and springtime. "Good night then," he said.
She shuffled out the door and he closed it behind her.
For a moment Hunter stood in the empty hallway. What document could Mab have possibly been speaking of? What could his father have wanted her to destroy?
What better way to know than to go see?
Hunter took a candle from a sconce on the wall and wandered down one hallway and then down the next, his footsteps echoing in his head. Dunnon Castle was so large, so empty.
Inside his father's library he lit the candelabras on the mantel, then one on the desk. He sat in his father's chair and rolled out the center drawer. As Mab said, it wouldn't open all the way, but he yanked hard on it. A piece of wood cracked and the drawer came free.
Hunter dumped the contents of the drawer onto the desk, his curiosity piqued. How odd of his father to hide something from him. To his knowledge he had never done so before.
Sure enough, there was a flat square of leather tacked to the underside of the wooden drawer. Hunter pulled it away and opened it. Inside was a slip of foolscap. He quickly unfolded it and scanned the slanted handwriting, faded by time.
A marriage certificate?
He reread it. Horace Geoffry Rordan, Earl of Dunnon married to a woman called Mary? It was dated May of 1683.
Mary? Who was Mary?
He read it a third time. The woman's last name was blurred, apparently on purpose. He pulled the candlestand closer to shed a stronger light on the faded document. "Mary She-Whispers?" he murmured aloud.
Then it came to him. It struck just as hard as if a man had hit him on the head with a warclub.
Mary. Mary She-Whispers. Mary, She-Who-Whispers-To-The-Wind.
"Jon!" Hunter leaped up out of his father's chair and ran for the door, the marriage certificate still in his hand. "Jon! Alexandra!"
He ran down the dark hallways to the grand staircase and shouted up. "Jon! Alexandra! Come here!"
A door opened upstairs.
"Geoffry?" Alexandra called.
"Alexandra, get Jon. Bring him down here. Immediately! Father's office!"
Alexandra frowned. What did Hunter want? He was driving her nearly to distraction with worry. Since his father's death he had been even more sullen and preoccupied. Nothing she had been able to say or do had seemed to help. Her life was falling apart around her and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it.
Alexandra lifted the skirts of her mourning gown and hurried down the hallway. She rapped on Jon's door. "Jon."
"Alex?" She heard footsteps and then he opened the door.
"Jon, Hunter wants us downstairs in his father's office."
Jon screwed up his face in a grimace. "Now? I'm dressing to go. I've a lady expecting a late-night visit. He knows that."
She shrugged. "He said now. There's something wrong, I just know it."
Jon rolled his eyes heavenward. He was only half dressed. He wore his stock loose around his neck and had not yet donned a shirtwaist and coat. "All right," he sighed. "All right. His father's just died. I suppose we can amuse him a little longer." He stepped back into his room. "Tell him I'll be there in a trice."
Alexandra turned back down the hall and went downstairs. She walked through the dark corridors to where the light shone from the Earl of Dunnon's study. She slipped inside. Hunter stood near the cold fireplace, a piece of paper in his hand. "What is it? What's wrong?"
He held up a finger. "Wait for Jon. He's coming?"
"Yes." She stared at him. He had such a peculiar look on his face, one she didn't recognize. What was wrong with Hunter? Was he losing his mind? "Jon said he'd be down in a minute," she said softly to the man who was her husband, but seemed like a stranger.
"Sit." He pointed to the chair behind the desk. She went to it and sat down, noticing quills and loose papers strewn across the desk.
The sound of heels hitting the floor echoed down the hallway and Jon appeared. "What the hell is it now, Hunter? You know I've plans."
Hunter waved the sheet of paper. He was g
rinning a grin that stretched from ear to ear. "Guess what I've found." He looked at Jon and then at Alexandra and then back at Jon again.
"What?" she asked.
He still fluttered the paper. "A marriage certificate."
"What? Whose? Make sense, Geoffry!"
"Our father's. Your mother's."
Jon looked at Alexandra. She rose out of the chair. "What?" she whispered.
Jon looked shocked, too shocked to speak.
"Tell us," Alexandra urged softly.
Hunter set the paper down on the desk and struck it with his hand. He gave a little laugh. "Our father, your mother, She-Who-Whispers-To-The-Wind. They were married."
"No," Jon managed. "It's not true."
"It is true. I have the legal document here in my hand."
Alexandra had never seen Jon so utterly caught off guard. He grasped the door frame, his knuckles turning white.
Alexandra lifted the document off the desk and scanned it quickly. It was indeed a marriage certificate. In 1683 the Earl of Dunnon had married a woman named Mary. She looked up at Jon. The earl had married his Shawnee mother before Jon was born.
It all came so quickly to her that she sat down. "Jon was your father's son."
"Yes." Hunter was still grinning like a madman.
"He didn't find me wandering in the woods. He kidnapped me," Jon said to himself, but loud enough for Alexandra to hear. "He took me from my mother. He was ashamed of me, but he couldn't leave me behind." He looked up at Hunter. "Then you and I, we're brothers."
"Half. He married your mother first. Then mine. Of course he didn't marry mine legally. You're father's only true son, his only legitimate son."
Alexandra covered her mouth with her hand in shock. Legally, Hunter was the bastard, not Jon.
After a moment of inability to speak, Jon seemed to gain control of himself. He stood in the doorway, an odd smile crossing his face. "My father didn't abandon me. He loved me enough to bring me here."
"He never told you who he was!" Hunter shouted. "He lied to you, to me, to my mother. For Christ's sake, he married my mother when he was married to your mother! He was ashamed of the color of your skin, Jon, of the Shawnee woman he'd loved. He brought you here to be a servant!"
Jon shook his head. "But I wasn't his servant. He never treated me like one. He treated me like his son and now we know why."
"And that's it?"
"I've lived a blessed life. I have him to thank for that."
Hunter shook his head. "You're a forgiving man, Jon."
He shrugged. "Why not be? He's dead. Anger will do us no good now. We all have our failings." He turned and started out the door.
"Wait. Where are you going?" Hunter asked, walking after him.
"I told you." Jon adjusted his Irish lace stock. "I've an appointment with a lady. Now tear up the paper."
"Tear it up?" Hunter grabbed Jon's arm. "You don't understand." He looked at Alexandra. "Neither of you understands what this means."
Alexandra came across the room and reached out to touch Hunter's shoulder. She didn't like the tone of his voice. He was scaring her. "What does it mean?" she made herself ask him.
"It means I'm free. We're all free."
Chapter Twenty-eight
"Free?" Jon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What the hell are you talking about? We've all had a long damned day, Geoffry, we're not in the mood for your word games."
"Don't you see?" Hunter slapped him in the chest with the palm of his hand. "You're the Earl of Dunnon, not me. Father was legally married to your mother, never to mine." He was grinning. "It's not my title, not my lands, not my money that I can't even find where the hell it is!" He laughed, hitting his thigh with his fist. "None of it's mine, Jon! It's all yours! Every thumping bit of it!"
"You can't do this . . ." Jon insisted. "It's not what Father wanted." He tried to grab the marriage certificate from Hunter's hand, but Hunter pulled back. "He wanted you to be his heir, not me."
"So he should have thought about that before he married She-Who-Whispers-To-The-Wind. He should have thought about that before he conceived a child, before he decided to return to England without his wife."
Jon leaned against the door frame, tipping his head back, closing his eyes. "You know what you're saying here?" he asked gravely.
"I know exactly what I'm saying." He gripped Jon's arm. "I'm saying you're my brother, my elder brother, and now this estate is your problem."
Alexandra watched the two brothers' gazes meet and lock.
"You don't have to do this, Hunter," Jon said, his voice barely audible. "I'm happy with my life as it is. I'll take nothing away from you. I love you too much." He grabbed a handful of Hunter's lined shirt. "Destroy the document. I'll never say a word. Alex will never say a word."
"You're missing the point, Jon. I don't want it. I don't want any of it, I never wanted any of it, and now I don't have to take it. You're the man Father always wanted me to be. But because of some silly prejudices he carried hidden, he tried to alter his past. He tried to pretend you weren't his legal heir. Damned if the man didn't take his secret to his grave."
Jon shook his head again and again. "I don't know about this. I just don't know."
Hunter took his hand and squeezed it. "Help me, Brother. Help me out of this mess," he begged. "I'll die here. I'll die inside. Be the man our father wanted. For him. For me." Hunter turned to Alexandra. "And you know what this means to you, don't you, sweeting?"
Alexandra could do nothing but stand there, her arms limp at her sides. "What?" she asked.
"Our marriage can be annulled. I deceived you. You were betrothed and then married to the Viscount Ashton. That's him." He pointed to Jon. "Not me."
Alexandra felt her jaw drop. He was serious. He was utterly serious. She looked to Jon. "Will you excuse us a moment, Jon?"
"Alex . . . Geoffry."
Alexandra walked to the door, giving Jon a push. "Excuse us," she repeated more loudly. She could feel her heart pounding beneath her breast. She was short of breath. Hunter didn't love her anymore. He didn't want her!
Jon took one look at Hunter and strode out of the room. Alexandra slid the door closed behind him and then turned around and leaned against it. "You no longer wish to be married to me?" she said, her voice sharp and cold. She was so angry, so hurt, that it was hard to speak.
"It's for the best. I'll submit the necessary documents before I go. Then you'll be free to remarry." He shrugged. "Marry Jon if you like. That makes the most sense."
She couldn't believe what he was saying. Her first instinct was to reach out and strike him across the face. How dare he turn the love they shared into a simple matter of whose name was on a marriage document!
"Go?" She could hear the hysteria rising in her voice. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going back to the colonies. I don't belong here, not anymore. Perhaps I never belonged here. I'm talking about freeing you, Alex. This wasn't working. It would never work."
She touched her hand to her cheek. "What are you talking about, Hunter?"
"I'm talking about setting you free. I'm sorry I've hurt you. I'm sorry I've made you unhappy these last weeks, but it needn't continue."
She stepped away from the door, staring at the face she loved, the man she thought she knew. "You could just leave me like that?" Her hand slid over her middle. Her flux was late. She might be carrying his child. She hadn't told him because she wanted to be sure. She stared at him. "You could just walk away from me?"
He turned his face away so that she couldn't see his expression. "It's what's best," he said coolly.
She watched him walk to the paneled door and slide it open. She was in such shock that she suddenly felt faint. Hunter's leaving me, she thought dully. He doesn't love me. He must never have loved me.
She laid her hand on the desk for support. She'd been strong enough to survive an Indian attack and all those weeks in the forest, she could certainly survive this. She had to. S
he had to be strong, if not for herself, then for the child whose father was about to abandon him.
"Hunter—"
He held up a finger, but he still didn't turn to face her. "Let's talk about the particulars later, shall we?"
He was being so stubborn. He seemed so sure of what he wanted . . . and what he didn't want. What he didn't want was her.
Alexandra felt a sob rise in her throat. Where had she gone wrong? Where had they gone wrong? They had seemed so sure of each other that night in the fort after Cain had died.
She looked up to see him walking through the door. He was leaving . . . he was leaving her . . . he was leaving England. She wanted to run after him, to shout to him, to make him turn around and tell her to her face that he didn't love her anymore. But she hurt too much. She had too much pride. She'd not beg. If he didn't love her, then she'd let him go.
His footsteps echoed in the hallway and Alexandra turned away and buried her face in her hands as the tears fell down her cheeks.
Alexandra paced back and forth across the Turkish carpet of her mother's antechamber off her sleeping quarters. Unable to spend another night in Dunnon Castle, Alexandra had fled to London, but not to her parents' house. She knew she would get no sympathy there, nor an ounce of understanding. It was Roland who had taken her in, that morning. It was Roland who had held her as she cried for all she was certain she had lost. It was Roland who had been insisting for days that it was time she ceased hiding and faced whatever her future would be.
For two weeks Alexandra had remained sequestered in Roland's town house. She had seen no one but him and Mark, and Jon who had come to visit twice. Jon said Hunter was absolutely serious about giving up his rights as the Earl of Dunnon. The marriage document of the late Earl of Dunnon and his wife, Jon's mother, Mary, had been filed with the proper authorities. Jon would be the new Earl of Dunnon.
Hunter had not come to see her. He'd not even sent a note, though Jon had told him where she was. Jon seemed to be as mystified by Hunter's behavior as Alexandra was, but he insisted she needed to go and see him, to talk some sense into him. He seemed to think that Hunter honestly thought she didn't want him, but rather the life she would have led as the Countess of Dunnon. When Alexandra said he obviously didn't love her, Jon had said she was a fool to think that. He said she and Hunter loved each other too much to let miscommunication and stubbornness ruin both their lives.
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