by Allison Lane
Yet you did nothing, his conscience growled. You made no effort to discover her circumstances. You let her go into service without a word. You—
He finally broke the silence.
“It pains me to see you in service, Chloe. Especially with Laura.” Realizing that he was clutching her hand, he released it. “How can you stand living with her after the way she abused Kevin?”
“What had Laura to do with Kevin?”
Pulling the team to a halt, he stared. “He never told you?”
“Told me what?”
He cursed. “Damn my loose tongue! I was sure you knew. Kev was never one to hide grievances.”
“What grievance?” When he remained silent, she grasped his arm. “You can’t stop now, Andrew. What did Laura do to Kevin? I’ve tried for years to understand why he bought colors. It can’t have been to emulate you.”
“No.”
“Did he—” Her voice broke, but she tried again. “Did he challenge you?”
“Whatever for?” he gasped in shock.
“When he left so suddenly, I feared that he had discovered how I threw myself at you that day, trying to seduce you away from duty. Kevin turned rather sanctimonious that last year, often grumbling about forward girls who expected men to throw over their plans on a whim. It fit so perfectly that I was sure he meant me. I tried to distract him with riding and fishing, the way you always did when he sank too deeply into study, but it didn’t work. So when he left, I feared that he’d decided it was your fault rather than mine and meant to punish you.” She kept her eyes averted during her recital.
Andrew finally found his voice. “Dear God. I was crueler than I thought.” He let out a shuddering breath, then drew in another. “You did nothing wrong that day, Chloe. I lost my head and all but raped you, then turned my temper against you using the most cutting words I could devise. The memory haunted me for years. I was sure you hated me.”
“No.”
His heart leaped at the word, but he ignored it. “Thank you. Set your fears at rest. Kevin said nothing. Not at the time. Not in letters. Not when he joined the regiment.”
“Then why did he buy colors? He hated fighting.”
The memory of Kevin bouncing into regimental headquarters in London made Andrew shudder. I’m your new ensign, Drew. His eyes had burned with fury, fear, and hatred. “He never should have done it. Anything would have been preferable. God knows I tried to keep him safe,” he murmured. “But Kev was no soldier.” His voice broke.
“I know that, Andrew. And if anyone could have saved him, it was you. But why was he there?”
He bit his lip.
“I’m no longer a child, Andrew. Don’t treat me like one. And if this concerns Laura, I have a right to know.”
He berated himself for starting this, but she was right. If nothing else, he could save her from Laura. After this morning, he had to wonder if William was wrong. Laura didn’t act like a mature, settled lady. She seemed more arrogant than ever.
He set the team in motion so he needn’t watch Chloe. It was bad enough that he’d seduced her without honorable intent. Now he had to bare even more failings.
“You know what Laura was like that last year I was home – flirting with every man she met, expecting them all to fall at her feet. And she was only thirteen.”
“Even then she drew men’s eyes. They found her combination of beauty and sweetness mesmerizing.”
“The sweetness didn’t last, or so Kevin claimed. He said that by seventeen she’d become arrogant and greedy, always wanting more than anyone could provide. She cared little for those who fawned on her, yet expected anyone who ignored her to hold the key to paradise.”
“You can’t mean—”
“Kevin despised Laura. He knew her better than anyone, for he often called on William. Thus he’d seen her throw herself at grooms and footmen and stalk disinterested gentlemen – which doubtless spawned his grumbling. He was always careful to avoid her, but she ambushed him one day, cornering him in the stable. When he spurned her, she vowed to tell Father that he’d forced her. Father believed every word she said. Rather than face a scandal, Kevin fled. Sir Nigel agreed to buy his commission.”
“No wonder Father let me accept this post. It was another way to punish me. My God, how can I face her again?”
“You needn’t. I can find her a new companion.”
“No. I’ve nowhere else to go. Returning to Fields House would be worse than serving Laura.”
A glance convinced him she was serious. “How can you prefer someone who treats you like a slave?”
“She’s not a person I can like – especially now – but I can handle her. Peter is another matter. I would never have a moment of peace at Fields House.”
“Why?” He held the team to a walk, for they’d already covered twenty miles today. “His gaming?”
She nodded. “Fields House is unentailed. At least at Moorside I have a roof over my head. But you needn’t worry about Laura. I will be leaving next year.”
“To do what?”
“Teach. By then I will have saved enough to buy a cottage. I can live with her that long. It will take William time to find a good replacement anyway, for the job involves more than providing companionship.”
“Surely Peter would welcome you for a year.”
“You are not thinking. Without the post, I’ve no way to increase my savings. Peter will never part with a farthing on my account. He needs it for his next game.”
“Is that why you never visit home?”
“Not entirely. I’ve no transport. And when I returned for Mother’s funeral, the welcome was so chilly, I removed my few remaining possessions and vowed never to set foot in the place again. I wouldn’t be here today if Laura hadn’t cut up stiff,” she admitted, blushing. “Perhaps a day alone will settle her.”
Andrew shook his head. “I wish I’d known. Kevin would have hated to see you in such straits.”
“It is the one reason I’m glad he is gone.” She brushed a piece of lint from her sleeve, then inhaled deeply. “How did he die?”
“I told—”
“I know what you wrote at the time, Andrew. Your letter meant more to me than you’ll ever know. But once the initial grief passed, I realized that it actually said very little. You skirted the truth by a wide margin, which is why I feared he had died in a duel. There comes a time when one needs details.”
“There isn’t much I can add.” He pursed his lips, cursing that she knew him so well. He’d written many letters to families over the years, but only Chloe recognized the platitudes. If she thought he’d shot Kevin in a duel, it was a wonder she hadn’t castrated him on the doorstep.
“Try.”
“I blocked that day from my mind for years.” He’d tried to, anyway. But one of fate’s cruelest jokes was that the things he most wanted to forget remained the clearest in his mind – Chloe’s tears, Kevin’s death, the bloodiest battles…. “I should have protected him.”
“Protecting Kevin was not your job.”
“But it was. As his lieutenant, his safety was my responsibility. I knew he was as green as they came and hadn’t had time to learn even basic duties. Men of his sensitivity do not belong on a battlefield.”
“Hush, Andrew.” Her hand soothed his arm. “Guilt is pointless. You had nothing to do with Laura. You weren’t even here.”
“That doesn’t matter. Why the devil didn’t he go back to Oxford? Why buy colors?”
“Andrew!” Her tone could have called a company of raw recruits to attention. “If Laura threatened to cry rape, he had no choice. I know her well after two years in her employ. Even if your father had questioned her story, she would have written the school. They would have sent him down.”
“Damn her!” His fists clenched around the ribbons. Why the hell hadn’t Turner’s bullet landed a foot lower? Death would have been a fitting retribution for her crimes against Kevin.
And if that thought didn’t condem
n him to hell, nothing would.
“Enough. Tell me about Kevin. Everything. Good and bad. And no more of this dying gloriously for king and country. A noble death wouldn’t wrack you with guilt.”
He’d forgotten that her backbone was as strong as his. “Very well. We sailed for Portugal only two days after he joined us. Two damned days. If only he’d been a week later.”
“Stop it,” she ordered. “Stick to facts.”
A breath restored his composure. “Kevin was a scholar, not a soldier, too willing to consider alternatives, listen to objections, and question orders. I worked with him every day we were at sea, reminding him that his life and the lives of his men depended on instant obedience, but I failed to instill the right instincts. When the French attacked, I positioned his unit in the back of the square and told him to follow my lead. He had good sergeants under him. They knew what to do.” He swallowed. “But as the first wave attacked, Kevin broke from the square. We never figured out why. Maybe he spotted a problem in the next square. Or maybe his nerve collapsed. It doesn’t matter. I ordered him back, but he was down before he could respond. I should have expected it, should have remembered how disorienting the first battle can be, should have watched him more closely.”
“How? By ignoring your own job? It wasn’t your fault, Andrew.”
“I know that here.” He tapped his head. “It doesn’t help. He was one of the best men I knew.”
“On that we can agree.” She sighed.
He couldn’t talk about it anymore. His chest had tightened until he could hardly breathe. To give himself time to settle, he changed the subject. “Do you know anything about Sir Nigel’s recent investments?”
“No. He never wrote, and discouraged me from corresponding with anyone. Why?”
“I’m trying to reconcile some oddities in his behavior last night – strictly for my own satisfaction. The fall was straightforward – he tripped over that table in the upper hall and tumbled down the stairs. But no one knows why he rose after midnight, dressed himself, then went to the library. He was rushing back to bed when he fell.”
“Was Peter there?”
“No. He was at the Golden Bull and didn’t return until several hours later. William had already been summoned by then – he’s the nearest magistrate – and we’d examined the house. Peter was too drunk to really take in what had happened. I spoke with him this morning, but he had no idea why Sir Nigel was up.”
“You talked to the servants?”
“What few remain. They are also baffled. Sir Nigel didn’t even summon Simms to help him dress. Peter claims that he’d just made a new investment. But he didn’t know what. All he said was that Sir Nigel was euphoric at dinner.”
“That sounds right. Every investment starts with euphoria. Most end in fury and despair."
He hadn’t fully believed Peter. But this confirmed the habit.
“What other questions do you have?” she continued, seeming to read his mind.
He bit his tongue. Asking her to discover when Peter had left the house was impossible, for it implied suspicion of Peter. No matter what quarrel she had with him, Peter was family. Nor could he mention the blood in the library. Chloe was a lady.
“Night candles,” he said. “There were too many night candles, and none of them were in the expected places.”
“Gramling always sets out six each evening,” she said. “Five for the family plus an extra. I doubt that has changed. He kept six out when Kevin was at school. And he kept six out after Kevin died and Mother shut herself away in her rooms.”
“There were six last night – three in the hall and one each in Sir Nigel’s room, Peter’s room, and the library. What I’m curious about is where the library candle originated – it had been dropped on the carpet – and why Sir Nigel left his in his room. Peter’s is easy. He slipped out late, against orders.”
“I’ll talk to Sally.”
“Do that. The staff is too small to clean each room daily, so perhaps the library candle had been there a day or two. And she will also know how long the piles of books have been on the floor.”
Chloe nodded.
Silence descended – a welcome silence, for he was still battling seven-year-old memories of Kevin’s dying plea.
After the way Andrew had ignored his vow, Kevin must be turning in his grave. Andrew had known even as he gave his oath that he would not follow through. Cowardice reared up whenever he’d considered facing her, for he’d been unable to forget his dishonor. And deep inside, he’d known that his regard still burned hot.
Yet cowardice had resulted in new insults, for she’d been mired in guilt instead of hatred – guilt he could have alleviated years ago with a word. Even after he’d hurt her unpardonably, she’d taken the blame.
Damnation, he cursed silently. Why had she grown so beautiful? It would have been hard enough to remain aloof from that fifteen-year-old dreamer. Now it was next to impossible.
* * *
Chapter 5
Monday
Chloe shut her bedroom door, glad for a few minutes alone. Not that she could rest for long. She must return to the drawing room for the final formalities.
The interment had been brief – a few words from Peter, even fewer from the vicar. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Sir Nigel would return to the ground from whence he’d sprung.
Testament to Peter’s haste and Sir Nigel’s penchant for irritating everyone he met, few mourners had attended – Andrew; the family solicitor, Mr. Barry; four gentlemen from Sir Nigel’s club, who had come solely from duty; and the staff and tenants. Sad, in a way. A baronet should have commanded more respect.
She shook her head as she folded her nightgown into her bandbox. Everything about this visit was sad.
The estate had deteriorated badly in the last year. Even small things were now gone – the porcelain shepherdess that had once been her grandmother’s, the Italian urn her grandfather had acquired on his Grand Tour, a parquet tea table that had graced the drawing room for twenty years. The house seemed stark without paintings and sculpture. Rooms echoed, many devoid of furniture. The stable held only two horses instead of the twenty it usually sheltered. The staff was down to two maids and no footmen.
Kevin had laughingly bequeathed her a folio of animal prints before leaving that last time. She wondered if it remained. Now that she knew the truth, she recognized his laughter as a defense against tears. That verbal will had cloaked fear. She had no legal claim to the folio, but would like a tangible memento of his life – especially now that her guilt was gone. She had not sent him on that mad journey, so her grief was now pure.
But this wasn’t the time to think about Kevin. She should concentrate on her father. That grief was a surprise. She’d expected to feel only relief, but the moment Andrew had driven through the gates, she’d been awash in memory. And not just of those summer picnics. In the early years, Sir Nigel had doted on his children, teaching them to ride, joining them in treasure hunts and blind man’s buff, and telling them fantastic tales about ogres and witches and sleeping princesses. He’d been a kind and loving man before everything went bad.
Guilt washed over her, for it was too late to repair the gulf that had opened between them. They had parted in anger and could never again find peace. Her family was gone now, for Peter had no intention of accepting their connection. He was too young to remember the good times and too selfish to want a sister hanging on his sleeve. Last night’s welcome had been cold, and he’d barely spoken two words to her since. So she was alone.
And that was good, she decided, closing the bandbox. Once she returned to Moorside, she need never face his temper again.
Setting the box by the door, she headed for the drawing room. It was the only room in the house that retained a reasonable selection of furniture, though that wasn’t saying much. The chairs dated to her grandmother’s time. Even the best were now frayed.
Mr. Barry and Peter were already there. Gramling followed her inside, cl
osing the door behind him. He would represent the staff at this formal reading of the will.
Chloe chose a chair in the corner, wishing that she were on her way back to Moorside – or at least that Andrew were beside her. But he had declined to intrude, waiting instead in the library.
He’s right, swore her conscience. This is not his affair. The only reason he fetched you was guilt over Kevin.
Kevin was one of the ghosts she’d seen in his eyes, which explained why he’d held himself aloof for the remainder of the drive. His lingering guilt made it impossible to revive their friendship. Relying on his support, even for an hour, was a bad idea. She could not risk deepening her infatuation. He was a soldier who would soon return to duty. It might be another eleven years before she next saw him.
Infatuation had been understandable at fifteen. She’d been naïve enough to believe in fairy tales. He might think his words had been cruel, but only his harshness had brought her to her senses.
She’d tried to get on with her life. Despite refusing to lie about her circumstances, she had worked hard to make a match in Bath. It wasn’t her fault that the eligible gentlemen compared so unfavorably with Andrew. Nor was it her fault that even today, her most precious possession was the letter Andrew had written after Kevin died.
But that didn’t matter. Never again would she throw herself at a gentleman or let her heart stray in the wrong direction.
Peter poured a large glass of brandy for himself, then a smaller one for Mr. Barry.
Chloe watched in resignation. She had expected to be gone by now. When she’d first left for Moorside, her father had made it clear that she could expect nothing further from him. Going into service repudiated her class, forcing him to banish her from the family.
While Peter gulped brandy and Mr. Barry shuffled papers, Chloe recalled last night’s reunion with Sally – the one bright spot of this visit.
Sally had started as a nursery maid when Kevin was born. Now she was second only to the housekeeper. But Chloe considered Sally more than a servant. Lady Fields’s frequent inattention meant that it had been Sally who listened to Chloe’s hopes and dreams, Sally who bandaged hurts and soothed fears, Sally who kept confidences secret – even the day Chloe had goaded Kevin into a foolhardy climb up a cliff that had broken his arm. By the time it healed, Kevin had adopted sedate activities with William, leaving Andrew and Chloe to seek adventure on their own.