by Vanda Vadas
He’d let his anger, the driving force of his existence, fuel his inexcusable behaviour. Too late he’d realised the gross error in his reasoning.
When he should have set her from him, the truth behind his actions had surfaced. She’d aroused him. Stirred his senses. He’d been reluctant to surrender her soft, warm lips. She’d tasted sweet, heady, and though she’d baulked at his initial onslaught, she’d capitulated as quickly as he. That alone had fuelled the heat building inside him.
Which is why he’d kissed her, artfully angling and moulding their lips together. He’d known she was an innocent. A fact that completely floored him, and a detail he’d chosen not to dwell on. Rather, the knowledge had cautioned his ardour, his pace. She’d returned his kiss with all the fervour of an eager novice: delightfully clumsy, yet enticingly willing.
Derby drew Zach from his private thoughts. ‘Perhaps you interrupted something. An impending tryst on the terrace between His Grace and the woman?’
A tryst? Zach considered the suggestion distasteful. What did it matter? The woman meant nothing to him despite noticing, when he’d pressed his lips to her gloved hand, the absence of a wedding band. Given her pleasing appearance, why was she yet to snare a husband?
He met Derby’s gaze. ‘You could be right. Perhaps she sees herself as the future duchess.’
The viscount leaned forwards in his chair. ‘Who was she? Did you get her name?’
‘No. She was a guest who showed courage in challenging me. I had to silence her for fear of being discovered.’ He detailed the events as they occurred, omitting they’d kissed.
Derby looked bewildered. ‘She accused you of thieving horses?’
‘Yes.’
‘Preposterous! Besides, such problems are not your concern. We’ve matters of much greater import to discuss.’
Zach returned to the chair.
‘Now,’ said Derby, ‘I have it on good authority that His Grace has all but frittered away your family fortune.’
‘In the gambling dens and whorehouses of London, I dare say?’
‘Indeed. As for his investment in trade –’
‘Ah, yes. Shipping. My crew and I have taken great pleasure in plundering those vessels over the years. I’m a rich man because of it. What more have you learned?’
‘He owns the shipping business outright. Naturally, he doesn’t openly engage in the day-to-day running of it; however, I understand the company is barely keeping afloat.’ Derby winced. ‘Excuse the pun. Should one more shipment fail to deliver –’
‘And it will,’ interrupted Zach.
‘– he’ll be completely ruined.’
Zach reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded parchment. He leaned forwards, handing it to the viscount. ‘Take this. It contains the details of my late father’s lawyer. When you’re in London, make arrangements to meet with him. Ask him to draw up a promissory note. Tell him, as the duke’s anonymous benefactor, and in the likely event the duke will soon declare himself bankrupt, I want the shipping company and the deeds to Arlington Palace.’
‘And if the duke refuses to sign?’
‘He won’t.’
Derby grimaced. ‘How can you be so sure?’
‘As you said, he’ll be completely ruined. I’m convinced he’ll do anything to save face and spare himself the public humiliation.’
Derby nodded. ‘Another thing. He wears your father’s ring. It carries the ducal seal. He never removes it.’
Zach remembered the heirloom. In quiet confidence and companionship, his father had often discussed with him its significance in inheriting the dukedom. Was it the first thing Gareth had snatched from their father’s body before the man had drawn his last breath? ‘I’ll reclaim it as soon as the opportunity presents itself.’
Derby sighed. ‘Vengeance. Soon we shall both have it. What a gullible fool I was to believe His Grace an honest man of business.’ He raised his glass. ‘I consider myself blessed the day our paths crossed. Thanks to you, my financial losses will soon be restored and my daughters shall not be denied their inheritance. You will be free to reclaim your heritage.’
‘What I want is to step on English soil a free and innocent man.’
‘And you shall have it. How I crave the day you will oust your half-brother and return to your peers as Miles Zachary Fenton, fourth Duke of Arlington.’
‘I care not what people will call me. A man’s mettle does not come from his name, or a title, but rather, his actions.’
Derby looked wistful. ‘Hear, hear!’
Silence fell, giving each man space to his thoughts. To lift the pensive mood, Derby asked, ‘What of your reputation? Still feared among the sea-faring brethren?’
‘Feared but fair.’
‘Has an island beauty claimed your heart?’
Zach gave a wry smile. ‘I’ve but one true mistress.’
Derby spoke in jest. ‘Ah, yes, but the sea can be cruel and merciless.’
‘As can a woman.’ Zach suppressed the memory of his late stepmother.
‘Not all women. Wouldn’t you prefer the embrace of a warm, willing temptress?’
Much to Zach’s annoyance, he pictured the proud, not-so-swooning beauty he’d encountered earlier this evening. He remembered their kiss. Did she? He stood abruptly. ‘I must bid you goodnight.’
‘Of course. The hour is late. You’re weary, without a doubt.’ Derby gestured to his surrounds. ‘Please, enjoy the hospitality of my home. I’ll see you in the morning before I leave for London.’
Zach strode from the library. He rolled his shoulders in reaction to the linen shirt abrading still-sensitive puckered scars on his back. He’d never forget how he’d acquired the marks. Hatred for his half-brother flared. With determined effort he unclenched his fists, reminding himself everything was going according to plan. Ten long years in the making, retribution was no longer a dream but rather nigh-on a reality.
Tonight, he would rest easy.
Julian stared out through the window of his sister’s bedchamber. He stood almost oblivious to the distant rolling hills, breathtaking in their verdant splendour. The gardens below thrived with spring’s daffodils, snowdrops and bluebells.
The sun had risen hours ago. He swore beneath his breath. What had happened to his sister last night to have kept her lying abed and unconscious for so long?
In hindsight he should have insisted she return to the ballroom with him instead of leaving her unchaperoned. Foul play had occurred, for she was a sure-footed young woman.
The recollection of her piercing scream had him turn away from the window. A dishevelled appearance laid claim to a night spent worrying about her, keeping a vigil by her side.
He considered the several suitors who’d discreetly approached him for her hand last night. He knew them to be fortune hunters. Had one of them developed a sour attitude at being rejected and forced himself upon her?
Apart from a handful of grazes and scratches on her arms, the swelling at the back of her head remained the only outward physical evidence of her injuries.
He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. He stroked her soft pale skin, and prayed she make a speedy recovery.
Catherine entered the room. A maid followed, carrying a tray of assorted sliced meats, bread, cakes and tea. She placed the tray on a table near the window, bobbed a curtsey and quietly left the room.
Catherine, heavy with child, rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder. ‘You must eat something or –’
‘Julian?’
The voice was both weak and hoarse.
‘Elly! Thank God you’re awake.’
Catherine gasped with relief. ‘We’ve been so worried about you. How do you feel?’
Eloise turned her head towards the two familiar voices. She squeezed her eyes shut, grimaced and brought her hand to the back of her head.
Julian laid a cool, damp cloth on her forehead. ‘Are you in pain?’
‘Water,’ she mouthed.
Catherine reached for the water pitcher, promptly filled a glass and passed it to Julian.
With care, he lifted his sister’s head off the pillow and raised the glass to her lips, allowing her to sip freely. ‘What happened, Elly? We’ve been worried sick about you.’
She eased her head down onto the pillow and opened her eyes.
‘You must be famished, sister. Shall I have Cook prepare you something to eat?’
‘No. I’ll not have you rouse her in the dead of night.’
Julian and Catherine exchanged a puzzled look.
Willow Warblers sang a melodic phrase outside. The whinny of a horse carried on the breeze and gravel crunched underfoot from ground staff crossing the drive. Julian observed his sister’s face. She blinked, opened her eyes wide, and blinked again. Her expression turned from confusion to distress.
He took her hand in his. ‘Elly?’
‘What time is it?’ she asked.
‘It’s an hour past midday,’ said Catherine. ‘You’ve been asleep for near on fourteen hours.’
Dread settled like a heavy weight in Julian’s stomach. He squeezed his sister’s hand. ‘Last night we found you unconscious at the foot of the garden stairs outside the ballroom. You’ve suffered a blow to your head. What happened out there?’
He heard her sharp intake of breath. Her hand gripped his even tighter. Her eyes darted from left to right, with lips compressed together in a thin line. She appeared to battle a burgeoning hysteria.
His sister’s anguish unnerved Julian. ‘What’s wrong?’
She opened and closed her mouth.
‘Tell me!’ He gripped her shoulders as if to brace himself for the worst. Against the verbal blow she delivered.
‘Julian … Catherine, I … I can’t see.’
Chapter Three
Later that afternoon, Eloise’s spirits plummeted to the depths of despair and rose marginally to settle into a state of depression.
The household fell quiet, leaving her with a sense of guilt in being responsible for an atmosphere of acute melancholy. Maisy, her childhood nanny and now her companion, made every attempt to elevate her mood.
Julian and Catherine danced attendance on her to excess. Feigning fatigue bought her time alone in her room. Time to be silent and still. To adjust her mind to a world of darkness. How did one process the concept of being rendered so pathetically useless after having been actively capable?
In a heartbeat she’d been robbed of her independence, requiring assistance with the most basic needs. Already she’d suffered the humiliation of having Maisy assist with her toilette.
Was this to be her lot in life? She breathed air as oppressive as her thoughts. Moving painstakingly slowly, she groped her way from the bed to the window and pushed it wide, grateful for the mild breeze upon her face. Skylarks sang accompanied by a chorus of thrush and hedge sparrow. She imagined clouds of white cup-shaped flowers on the wild cherry trees beyond. Sounds and images brought her great pleasure, a reminder that her fall had not left her totally incapacitated. Her injuries could have been much worse.
With this realisation, the road ahead seemed less bleak. Self-pity offered no respite. Nor would she give anyone the opportunity to pity her. She must learn how to live in a world without sight.
Her warming realisation just as quickly gave way to gut-wrenching fear, helplessness and vulnerability, which settled over her like a shroud. An hour ago, the doctor had paid her a visit. She wanted to hold on to the hope of her sight returning and put faith in his optimistic prognosis. He’d recommended a second opinion and had promised to secure her an appointment with a renowned eye physician.
Over breakfast the following morning, she enlightened her brother, Catherine and Maisy about her encounter with the masked man. Her pursuit of him had been nothing short of reckless. She’d caused her family tremendous worry. They deserved an explanation.
‘You what?’ barked Julian.
‘I chased him.’ Eloise sat poised for her brother’s criticism
‘Why did you do that? What were you thinking? Did you …’
A chair scraped against polished floorboards. Julian continued his rant, condemning her actions. His chastising sounded to the left of her, in front, and from behind. Her head turned with the sound of his voice.
Crockery rattling distracted her. The aroma of freshly baked bread and scented tea filled the air. A door closed. A sneeze sounded, from where she could not be sure.
Her world spun on an unhinged axis. Disoriented and light-headed, she would suffer no more of her brother’s scolding. Her thumbs hooked beneath the bandage protecting her eyes and she flung it aside.
‘Enough, Julian!’ Her palm slapped down on the table, upsetting a teacup and saucer. Hot tea burned her hand. She cried out, stood abruptly and lost her balance.
There followed the clamour of noise and gasps. Julian’s familiar arms caught her, steadied and re-seated her. ‘Quick, Catherine, pass me the butter,’ he said.
Eloise sensed the moment he rubbed the slippery substance over her stinging skin and dabbed it off with a cloth. She thought herself clumsy and as helpless as a wingless bird. Wounded pride summoned unbidden tears; tears she failed to hide from her brother.
‘Forgive me, Elly. Come, we’ll adjourn to the morning room.’
In his tone, Eloise discerned regret for his verbal reproof. She gratefully accepted his support as he settled her into a chair.
‘Why did you give chase to a man who could easily have caused you unspeakable harm?’ he asked.
‘Because of his daring arrogance, his thievery. He had no right trespassing on our premises. I had to do something to stop his escape. Besides, if he’d intended me harm, why did he run from me?’
‘A valid question,’ agreed Catherine, ‘although perhaps he feared you may know him.’
Eloise turned her head in the direction of Catherine’s voice. ‘He was masked.’
‘Even so, did you recognise him in the slightest? His voice? His countenance?’
Eloise shrugged. ‘He … was rather …’ An involuntary blush heated her cheeks. She bowed her head, hoping to avoid the notice of others.
Her heartrate had launched into an uncontrollable cadence when he’d held her close. The warmth of his breath on her face and neck had made her shiver. How could she forget the penetrating command of his coal-coloured eyes? Even now, curse him, her heart tripped when remembering how he’d pressed his mouth to her gloved hand, followed by a kiss on her lips.
She tamped down the unsettling flutter in her stomach. In truth, he was magnifique. ‘I recognised nothing about him, and though he held me against my will, he promised not to harm me.’
As for the threat of his wandering hand upon her breast? Best not divulge his tactics in forcing her silence. Julian’s next question came as a welcome distraction.
‘It could be any number of men. Maisy, what do you know of gossip among the servants?’
‘Only that there’s been quite a few newcomers pass through the village of late. Eloise, could this man have an ulterior motive?’
‘Perhaps. He laughed at my accusation of him being a horse thief, declaring it an insult to his talents.’
‘Talents?’ scoffed Julian. ‘None of this makes sense.’
There came the interruption of a polite cough. The footman announced the arrival of the Duke of Arlington.
Greetings followed. Eloise listened to the heavy footfall of boots crossing the polished floorboards, then fading to a quiet pad towards her over the plush rug. She buried her injured hand in the folds of her skirts. He took her free hand in his.
‘Lady Eloise, what a horrendous ordeal you’ve suffered. I regret to learn of your loss of sight.’
‘Thank you, Your Grace.’ She graciously slid her hand from his. ‘Let’s hope the condition is temporary.’
‘Indeed. I’m at your service. Ask anything of me. Anything at all.’
She smiled. ‘You’re most kind.’
/>
Julian echoed her thanks. ‘We leave tomorrow morning for an afternoon appointment with the eye physician in Hanslow. We’ll spend the night there and return the following day.’
‘Then you must enjoy the comfort of the ducal carriage,’ insisted Gareth. ‘It’s the least I can offer. I’ll have it brought around in the morning.’
Eloise employed her most congenial voice. ‘There’s no need, thank you. We have a carriage.’
‘You’re offer is most generous,’ said Julian. ‘There is another thing you could do for me, Arlington.’
Eloise wished she could send her brother a scathing look. Any favour asked of the duke meant he would expect one in return.
Julian explained, ‘The men I’ve employed to assist with catching the horse thief are due to arrive mid-morning. I wish to speak with them on the matter, although it would mean delaying our journey and possibly the physician’s appointment.’
Eloise knew exactly what her brother had in mind. She had to put a stop to it. ‘You must settle business matters first,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve no objection to postponing the appointment for another day, or week.’
To her chagrin Gareth played right into her brother’s hands. ‘It would be my honour to escort your sister and her companion in your absence. In fact, I’ve no other pressing engagements, so if it’s not too much of an imposition I’d gladly make the journey there and back with you.’
‘Agreed,’ said Julian. ‘As soon as the men arrive and I’ve given them instructions, I’ll ride out and catch up with you.’
Eloise resented the manner in which her brother had contrived to bring her and Gareth together in such close confines. Did Julian not recall a word of their conversation on the balcony? To protest their plans would mark her as ungrateful.
‘And Lady Shafford,’ said Gareth in a charming voice, ‘you will be here on your own?’
‘Oh, no, Your Grace. My parents also arrive tomorrow. They’re keen to meet their first grandchild.’
‘Of course. I look forward to the pleasure of their company when we return.’