by Kelly Boyce
Oh, how she wished to grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him back. Explain. Whisper the truth into his ear and rejoice in finally setting it free. But his posture brooked no softness, no hint he had any interest in her secrets or justifications, and so she held her ground even while it crumbled beneath her feet.
“You should return to the Assembly Room,” he said. “The night grows cold. You’ll catch your death if you stay outside.”
Except she didn’t want to go inside. She did not want to leave him. Not yet. Not like this when there was still so much left unsaid between them. As if sensing her desire, his posture changed, hardened. There would be no breaching the divide this night. Perhaps not any night.
“Good evening, my lady.” He bowed and turned away from her, walking further out into the night to where the candlelight from the Assembly Room no longer reached him and left him shrouded in shadows.
“You should have told him,” she whispered, unable to stop the sheen of tears that caused his retreating image to waver until he disappeared completely.
But how? And to what end?
Chapter Four
“You look like the picture of health,” Arran said as Beatris breezed into the morning room, color blooming in her cheeks and a smile lighting her face. “Fully recovered are we?”
He could not prevent the sarcasm from edging into his inquiry.
She ignored it. “Indeed. I feel most restored after a night’s rest. Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
He gave her a look. Not a happy one, though she received it with a light laugh, then proceeded to fix herself a small plate from the buffet table.
In truth, he could not remember the evening with much clarity. Every minute that came after his meeting with Glory had occurred in some blurry netherworld between confusion and anger and crazy, irrational hope.
Why did she wear his locket? It didn’t make any sense. Surely she had other pieces—more expensive and ostentatious baubles—she could have chosen. Perhaps, if it had been only the one time, he could toss it off. Women of her ilk had plenty of trinkets to choose from. Likely her lady’s maid had selected it and she thought nothing of it. Had forgotten its significance over the years. Did not even recall who had given it to her. If it had been only once. But it hadn’t been.
She would have changed and dressed for the evening’s entertainment. To choose to wear the locket again, after changing from one outfit to another, indicated a conscious decision on her part. But why? What did it mean? And why a lock of her son’s hair? Did she mean to mock him with it? To remind him Blackbourne had taken everything from him, even going so far as to taint his gift to her in such a way?
His thoughts had troubled him long into the night, making for a very restless sleep and when he finally succumbed, she haunted him there as well, so that he was afforded no respite from the suffering of seeing her in the flesh once again.
How he wanted her. Still. Instantly. Desperately. Despite everything she had done to him, abandoning him in favor of a titled lord who thought of her as nothing more than a pretty possession to be strutted about like a prized mare.
Beatris took a seat next to him at the round table near the window and glanced at his plate. “You have not touched your breakfast, brother dear.”
“I find myself lacking in appetite this morning.”
“Patience indicated Lady Blackbourne attended the Assembly last night. I must confess I am sorry to have missed that. It has been years since I have seen her, although my lovely daughter informed me that the Dowager Countess has aged remarkably well and rivaled the beauty of any of the younger women who attended. I can’t help but think my dear girl was suggesting a comparison to her old mother and found me lacking in that regard.”
“I am sure she meant nothing of the sort,” he said, without acknowledging anything regarding Glory, her presence, or the effect it had on him even hours after their encounter.
“Please, we both know where Patience’s values lie. Heavens, but I do not know where I went wrong with that child.” Beatris shook her head and took a small bite from her buttered biscuit.
“You allowed your husband to spoil her within an inch of her life.”
“Hm. Daughters have a knack for being able to wrap their fathers around their little finger.”
Arran peered at his sister over the edge of the morning paper. “Spoken from experience, I assume?”
She smiled, a sly, knowing grin that always made him nervous. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your avoiding my inquiry about Lady Blackbourne.”
He scowled. The woman possessed the uncanny ability to divine information from the smallest things. A truly annoying trait, in his humble opinion.
“Was there an inquiry?”
“You know there was. Did you speak with her?”
Arran straightened and raised the newspaper. “Did I not forbid this particular topic?”
“And have you not noticed how awful I am at taking such dictates from my little brother?”
He sighed. He should have known Beatris would not hold her tongue forever. Raised amongst three boys, two older and one younger, she had quickly filled the role of mother to them upon the death of their own and was quite nimble-footed when it came to maneuvering around them to get her own way.
Perhaps Elmsley wasn’t completely to blame for Patience’s behavior, after all. Perhaps she had learned too well at her mother’s knee. Despite that, he did not hold such things against his sister. When Mother had died, Beatris had stepped up to fill the role as best she could, despite being but four and ten at the time. But her role was short-lived when, less than a handful of years later, Baron Elmsley expressed an interest. Soon, his only sister married and Arran was left alone once again. As the heir and the spare, Boyd and Donald held their father’s full attention, while he…well, he’d had Glory’s, hadn’t he?
He cleared his throat and folded the paper, pushing the thought away. “If you must know, yes, Lady Blackbourne was indeed at the Assembly and, yes, we spoke briefly. But I am sorry to disappoint, it was all terribly civilized and uneventful.” Save for when he touched her face, her soft skin burning against his own and creating a need so deep and visceral he had yet to shake it.
“On the contrary, I am most pleased to hear this. It means you will have no excuse to avoid her upcoming birthday party.”
He clenched his jaw, certain he had just backed into the trap his sister had cleverly set for him. “I am quite certain I will be indisposed that evening.”
“I am afraid you cannot be. You see, Elmsley has sent word he is in need of my presence in London. Some important dinner with the Duke of Franklyn that cannot be missed and for which my attendance is required. He believes they may be eyeing dear Charlie as a husband for Lady Susan. It would be quite the boon if our son could nab himself a duke’s daughter and I simply cannot pass up the opportunity presented.”
“I fail to see what that has to do with me or my attending Lady Blackbourne’s birthday party.” Nor did he want to see. What he wanted was for the subject of his former lover to be dropped. Was it not enough that she plagued his dreams? Must she also permeate his waking moments as well?
Not that he needed his sister to assist in that regard.
“Allow me to enlighten you. Given Patience’s rather…eventful first Season—” Beatris cleared her throat, and her expression became that of a beleaguered mother whose daughter had inherited her own strong will, much to her detriment. “—I believe it best she remains out of London for the time being, until the memory of the ton grows short. However, the party for Lady Blackbourne is likely to bring about many eligible gentlemen and well-placed lords and ladies that Patience will benefit from getting to know—under proper supervision, that is.”
“Such proper supervision being me, I take it?”
“I knew you would agree.”
“I have agreed to no such thing.”
“Then you may be the one to tell her, and Judith, that the party they ha
ve been looking forward to will have to be missed. I don’t have the heart to do it myself. Especially after I have seen the excitement in their lovely faces upon informing them you would, naturally, escort them in my place.”
“You didn’t.”
His sister’s smile grew wider. “Oh, but I did.”
“Hell and damnation, Bea!”
“Language.” She leaned back in her chair, a look of satisfaction upon her pleasant features. “Now don’t get your back up. After all, you loved each other once, did you not?”
“I—we—that is—” Words sputtered out of him at his sister’s blunt question, but none of them made any sense. She waved him off.
“And you are now both widowed and practically living next door to each other. I think it a most fortuitous twist of fate, do you not?”
“I do not.” He found it anything but fortuitous. He found it maddening. Agonizing. Terrifying.
“Pish. She is a lovely woman. Everyone says as much. I see no reason for you to hold onto past hurts. It’s like you’ve used them to build an iron cage around your heart and I can think of nothing more tragic.”
He could. Losing her all over again would be far more tragic. It would be devastating. Soul-crushing. He wouldn’t survive it a second time. He’d barely survived the first.
“Put away your romantic notions, Beatris. You may play matchmaker for your children, but me. She and I were not meant to be then, and nothing has changed in the over thirty years since it ended.”
Beatris stood and made to leave, stopping in front of him on her way to the door. “Except that it has never really ended, has it?”
She did not wait for his reply. Nor did he have one to give her. No. That was a lie. He did have an answer. He simply lacked the courage to admit it.
* * *
“A crow? Called Shadow? What an odd thing.”
Nicholas set down the newspaper and took a sip of coffee, his expression less reminiscent of the Earl of Blackbourne and more like the young boy Gloria had raised—one with a habit of questioning anything that sounded even remotely curious.
“Yes. A crow. Quite tame, to tell the truth.” She wasn’t sure what possessed her to speak of Callum to Nicholas. Her intention had been to let the matter be. But as she sat down to enjoy an early breakfast with her son, the story popped out, as if it had a will of its own.
“Would a boy not prefer a dog?”
“I suppose not in this instance. Although his father had always favored dogs and likely has at least one, so I assume he is not lacking in that respect. But the bird seems quite taken with the boy and he, it. There was something quite charming about it.” She smiled. Her brief meeting with Callum Sutherland had left an impression on her, one that had lingered in the days since she found him calling for his crow to come down from the tree.
“He must be quite the young fellow to be able to command the respect of a bird who could simply fly away if it chose to, never to return,” the Earl of Glenmor commented.
Abigail’s brother, Benedict, had arrived late the previous day to spend time with his younger sister and new nephew and to attend Gloria’s birthday party the following week. He’d brought with him his mother, Louise. Gloria had never been more thankful to see her dear friend. She could use a sympathetic shoulder that did not belong to one of her children. The matter that plagued her was not for their ears.
After her unexpected encounter with Arran outside of the Assembly, she could not settle. Worries and fears whirled about inside of her, tangled with need and desire. Her feelings for Arran had not diminished over the years, nor did she expect them to any time in the near future. Being in such close proximity did not help matters. She supposed she could leave for London, but she had always preferred the country and had no wish to return to the city more than was necessary.
Nicholas’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I would like to meet this crow-tamer. Perhaps he can talk some sense into young Roddy, who seems to think screaming at the top of his lungs in the middle of the night is perfectly acceptable behavior for a young viscount. Why I found my poor wife leaning against a shelf in the library napping on her feet yesterday, so exhausted is she after a week of getting up through the night to tend to him.”
“Is that not what the nanny is for?” Benedict took a bite of coddled eggs.
“Indeed, it is. However, Abigail has determined that when Roddy cries, he is not expecting to see a stranger’s face, but that of his mother’s and so off she goes.” Nicholas made a shooing motion with his hand.
Gloria smiled at the men. “It is the way of mothers to nurture their young. We do not hand over the care of them easily to another, no matter how exhausted we become.”
Benedict lowered his fork. “Even if you find yourself sleeping against a bookshelf?”
She laughed. “Even then.” How she missed those days now. Difficult as they had been at the time, at least she’d had a purpose. There had been nothing she wouldn’t have done for her son. She would have given up everything.
She had given up everything.
Her smile faltered.
“Perhaps we should pay Sir Arran a visit, Nick. What say you?” Benedict suggested.
Gloria choked on a sip of warm chocolate. “Oh no. No. That would be…” She cleared her throat and worked to regain the composure that had slipped away at the notion of Nicholas and Benedict descending upon Arran’s home.
“Mother?”
“It is just that…well, I imagine they are still in mourning after Mr. Sutherland’s passing.”
Nicholas gave her a questioning look. “But were they not at the Assembly last night?”
“Well…yes.”
“And did Abby not invite them to your birthday party, an invitation they readily accepted?”
“They did.” Her voice weakened along with her argument.
“Then it is settled,” Benedict said, his hand tapping against the pristine white tablecloth. “Shall we ride out this morning? The sun is bright in the sky and it is destined to be the perfect day to be out of doors.”
In the time she had known Abigail’s brother, Gloria had noted he often looked for any excuse to be outside as opposed to in. Louise suggested it was likely a response to his sudden elevation to Earl of Glenmor and the near crippling debt that had come with the title and properties. His mother suspected the fresh air made him feel a little less stifled. It was a tactic Gloria had oft employed herself and one she fully understood.
Realizing there was nothing more she could do to stop them, she managed a small smile and prayed Arran was not at home to receive them. “Then please send my best regards to the Sutherlands.”
As the gentlemen excused themselves to depart for their journey to the Sutherland lands, Gloria pushed away her untouched plate of food, her appetite extinguished in the face of Nicholas’s plan to visit the man she had given up for her son’s sake.
And for the sake of the man they planned to meet.
Chapter Five
“Father? There are riders heading this way. Do you think they are lost?” Callum’s eyes grew wide as he peered over at Arran, a gleam of adventure mirrored within them. “Highwaymen, perhaps? Shall Shadow and I run them off?”
“I sincerely doubt they are highwaymen and I strongly suggest you stay put.” He had taken Callum out for a ride on the new horse he’d recently purchased for him. His son had a strange ability to understand animals and the gentle thoroughbred had taken to him from the beginning. “What would they think, to see you charging down upon them? With Shadow perched on your shoulder, they may well think you were Death coming to call.”
Callum grinned, inordinately pleased by this. Arran tried, without success, to suppress a smile as he squinted in the direction of the riders approaching them. There were three in total, none of whom he recognized. Then again, with his long absence, very few from the village and surrounding estates looked familiar any more. They advanced at a good clip as if they were racing one another to see who could
reach him first.
“Stay here.” He issued the order as he pushed his heels into his mare and rode ahead. As the men grew closer, he confirmed he had not become acquainted with any of them, though two looked familiar and he suspected he had seen them at the Assembly the previous night.
He pulled up on the reins and heard Shadow’s caw much closer than it should have been had his son heeded his dictate and remained higher up on the hill where he had left him. He glanced over his shoulder.
Callum shrugged. “I could not help it, Father. Shadow wanted to see who they were.”
Arran shook his head and hid his smile. The boy had inherited the Sutherland’s strong will to do as he pleased.
“A-ha!” The tallest of the three announced, grinning at the other two who flanked either side of him. “I have bested you yet again!”
The man to Arran’s right with sharp features and dark hair addressed the other, his tone riddled in wryness. “You have cheated, once again, and I consider your claim forfeit.”
“How did I cheat?”
The man to the far left answered. “You took off before we were even in the saddle. And before you debate the issue, might I suggest we greet this other gentleman before he is convinced we possess not a single manner amongst us?”
The man in the middle grinned and Arran’s heart leaped to his throat as the late morning sunlight glinted against the man’s silvery eyes, revealing his identity before he gave his name.
“Forgive us. Allow me to introduce myself. I am—”
“Nicholas Sheridan, the Earl of Blackbourne,” Arran said.
Blackbourne straightened in his seat. “Yes. Have we met before?”
Arran shook his head. “No. We have not.” You have your mother’s eyes.