The Trouble with Love (Distinguished Rogues Book 8)

by Heather Boyd

  She followed the butler upstairs, encountering the housekeeper on the way down, and stepped into a warm room. Dark wood, rich fabrics, and wide-open windows surrounded her. There were no drapes in this room and the sun warmed the space perfectly.

  “How lovely,” she murmured as she ran the tip of her finger along the damask comforter, thinking of the man she loved sharing this bed with his wife. She curled her fingers into her palm. She could no longer think of Alice as her friend. She could no longer consider herself Alice’s.

  Was Everett nervous?

  She lifted her gaze along the bed and encountered a letter resting on the pillow. “What is that?”

  “It is a message for you,” the butler advised, taking one last look around the chamber and nodding. “Lord Acton sent it with hope that you might come and read it before your departure.”

  Her hands trembled but she did not rush to snatch it up. “I will read it later,” she promised, turning toward Mrs. Roberts. Her companion appeared intrigued, but then she sighed. “I could use a nap, too, after this morning.”

  “Your room is this way, Mrs. Roberts. I directed your husband there before you came upstairs.”

  Mrs. Roberts left the room and the butler promised Whitney tea and biscuits soon. They left Whitney, and she busied herself by unpacking the few things she would need for the night. Anything to stop herself from snatching up that letter.

  When the housekeeper arrived bearing a tea tray, Whitney was as calm as she could be. The housekeeper backed out with a quick glance at the unopened letter. Whitney let out a sigh and collected it before returning to sit in the window seat overlooking the street. She ran her fingers over her name, deciding Everett had handsome handwriting, and broke the seal.

  She covered her lips as she read the first lines.

  My dearest Whitney,

  I cannot thank you again for the pleasure of your company and friendship. The hours we spent alone together have been the best of my life, and I am bereft that you have gone away, my darling girl.

  Nothing has changed here since I saw you last. Emily’s health remains in decline, and she is as ever utterly unrepentant of her past misdeeds. I know you wish me to be angry with her, furious, but I cannot in my heart turn aside the years of affection that existed between us. Her doctors have stopped suggesting I have hope now.

  The Taverham house party has finally ended, and immediately after your carriage left, I was invited by Exeter to call upon him when I visit London next. I thought he seemed genuinely cast down by how things ended between you. I know he considered you a great friend, and I also suspect he knows how I feel about you. Do let me know if you wish me to pursue a friendship with him for your sake? I’ve no doubt you could again enjoy his company upon your eventual return.

  Will it surprise you to learn that Lady Taverham, Miranda, knew of Emily’s location all along? Miranda and I have spoken of Emily’s health on several occasions, and she has been more of a comfort than I deserve. I remain astonished that she accepts what I’ve done for Emily’s care, though I know she remains a little anxious about it all. She also admonished me for informing Taverham about Emily. She says Taverham has become unbearably concerned and worrisome. Taverham’s open devotion to Miranda reminds me every day that I should never have let you slip through my fingers. I have never been happier than when I am with you.

  Since you are reading this letter, you must be in my house, in my bedchamber hopefully, enjoying the view of the sea through the front windows. How I wish I could be with you. My servants will look after you well enough in my stead, and I truly hope you can be comfortable and happy there.

  Now I must beg a boon from you. I know you will tease me for suggesting it, but I beg of you to write to me no matter where you go in your grand adventure in the years to come. I could not rest easy without having a letter from you tucked beneath my pillow at night, and will cherish each and every one you send. If I cannot see you, I must hear from you, as often as you can bear to write me, and I promise I will write to you very faithfully each week.

  You will find me at Warstone Manor until the worst comes to pass. After Emily is gone, I have decided I will spend the mourning period traveling, hopefully abroad. I should like to call on you one day, if you agree to see me again after all that has happened between us. I very much look forward to having you show me the places you’ve written about. If my health continues to be strong after six months has passed after Emily, we could deepen our friendship if you still like the idea. For that to happen, please write with your new directions as soon as you are settled abroad, and tell me of your journey.

  Yours most faithfully,

  E

  Whitney wiped at her streaming eyes hurriedly. Damn him. Now she would look for him coming every single morning. The last days had been hard enough without the torture of hope.

  She read the letter again, memorizing every loving word. She missed him. She missed him so much that it hurt. As she scanned the last lines of the letter for the third time, she frowned. He spoke only of his own future, and said not one word of Alice, or his marriage.

  …we could deepen our friendship if you still like the idea.

  Whitney’s breath came fast and shallow all of a sudden. Everett spoke only of remaining at Warstone for Emily’s sake. He said nothing of traveling with his new wife. What wasn’t he telling her? Had something gone wrong with his engagement to Alice?

  Concerned and hopeful all at once, Whitney covered her face with both hands and muffled a soft scream of frustration. Alice and her parents had been suspiciously absent that last day, when they had previously been always calling upon the marchioness daily. She should have asked Everett what had kept the Quartermanes away the day she’d left Twilit Hill.

  Had the engagement been broken before she’d even left Twilit Hill?

  For a moment, Whitney considered swooning.

  There was no other reason for that sweetly worded letter than to express hope of a future together. That beautiful, secretive, idiotic, darling man might not be married, and could have been hers to claim.

  He should have told her he was free. She would have delayed her journey to wait for him.

  Whitney sprang to her feet, searched every room in the house until she found a writing table and paper, and then penned an expansive letter to Everett, telling him everything of her last few days, assuring him that she, too, could not wait to see him, and then asked after the new Lady Acton.

  She did not think he would lie to her in a letter.

  Once that was sent and on its way, she ate, bathed and then, exhausted, slid between the sheets of her lover’s bed. She fell asleep to dream that the man she loved had not married, and that he was racing along dark roads to join her. Their reunion had been so happy that she woke in tears as the sun rose and, for the first time in her life, considered giving up her voyage to return to him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A firm hand settled over Everett’s shoulder. “She is at peace now,” Taverham murmured, as the last of the townsfolk drifted away from the burial ground high on a hill overlooking Warstone.

  Everett continued to stare into the grave as it was slowly filled with earth. “She loved you till the end, you know.”

  Taverham sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” he whispered. “I wish she’d fallen in love with someone else. Maybe she could have been happy if she’d just let you go.”

  Taverham’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “Come away. Miranda and Christopher are waiting in the carriage to take you home.”

  He was concerned the boy had come. There had been no need for him to learn that Emily had lived so close to him for so long.

  The dowager was here, too, a grim figure in black mourning at the edge of the crowd. She bowed her head to him and returned to her carriage without a word. That was for the best. He still did not know what to say to her. The dowager had cared deeply about Emily once and been utterly betrayed.

  “I can’t
leave with you,” he whispered to his friend. “I cannot be in a carriage with them, or anyone. I was holding Emily’s hand as the end came,” he admitted.

  He would not willingly put Taverham’s family in any danger.

  “Oh,” Taverham, said and then fell silent. “I didn’t realize.”

  “Where else would I have been when the last of my family slipped away? Emily did not die without a struggle,” he confessed, heart growing heavy again.

  It had been a ghastly night, knowing the end would come sooner than he was ready for. He’d expected months more, not a mere week. But they had talked every day. Discussing the past, and the future she wouldn’t live to share. He never told Emily about Alice, but he’d told Emily everything about Whitney Crewe. How they had met, how she challenged him on every level. Her eccentricities were already known to Emily from gossip, and while Whitney’s character had concerned Emily in the beginning, she had come around by the end of her life.

  She had made him promise to pursue her. Sadly, it may have had more to do with Emily’s keen interest in the size of Whitney’s fortune than the woman herself. Emily had happily listed a number of improvements he could make at Warstone with the additional funds when he wed Whitney.

  However, any marriage would be for Whitney to decide in the end. It was her future, her life he wanted to bind with his. If he lived after this.

  Emily had coughed her final breaths in his arms, struggling for air.

  He took a step away from Taverham before he faced him. “Until I am certain I am safe, allowing enough time to pass to be sure, I must keep a distance from everyone.”

  Taverham nodded slowly, his expression grim. “How long?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I think at least six months must pass before I can relax my guard and be at ease around others again.”

  Taverham frowned. “What about the wedding?”

  Everett glanced at the carriage where Lady Taverham and her son looked on, clutching the window frames tightly. It was good of Miranda to come when she had never been a friend to Emily, and Emily had despised everything about Miranda.

  Miranda climbed out, urged the boy to remain behind in the carriage with his grandmother, and moved to join them.

  He smiled her way quickly and then faced his friend. “The day I told Miss Quartermane about my sister’s illness was the day she fled my estate and our engagement ended.”

  Taverham gawked. “Why didn’t you say something to us?”

  He winced a little. “I said nothing because I was not unhappy about it. I did not need pity.”

  Taverham brushed his hand over his mouth, likely holding back a question.

  He shrugged. “I only have myself to blame in the end for making a match that was not based on love. Seeing you and Miranda together again has reminded me of what was missing in my life. Miss Quartermane and I did not suit, and I am grateful that she released me before it was too late. There is nothing I want to do to change the situation. I hope you will remember that when you meet her again in London.”

  “Of course we will be kind to Miss Quartermane,” Miranda promised. “You can depend on us to make sure any gossip we hear is turned so it is favorable to both of you.”

  Taverham squinted at him. “What did you do to make her give you up?”

  “Give up being my countess, you mean?” At Taverham’s reluctant nod, he shrugged. “I confirmed it was me who lost my breeches at the Fairmont Bachelors Ball. That scandalized her mother quite a bit.”

  Taverham’s eyes widened. “That was you?”

  He nodded quickly. “But when I finally told her about Emily’s poor health, it was too much, apparently. I discovered Miss Quartermane and her mother have a mortal fear of illness. As soon as I told them of Emily, her current situation and prognosis for life, she practically ran from the room. It took her one night to decide to end the engagement and pack her bags. They left early the next morning while I was visiting Emily.”

  “That must have been a terrible shock to discover they were so rude as to leave without saying goodbye,” Taverham said

  “Actually, it was a relief not to have to pretend I was happy to be with them anymore.”

  “It was for the best.” Miranda held out her hand. He glanced at it, reassured himself she was gloved too, and took her fingers lightly in his. “You know we worry for you,” she said.

  He shivered as a chill swept him, and for the first time in his life he felt oppressed by the close growth of the woods. He wanted to get away. He needed to be somewhere else soon. “Thank you both for coming.”

  “Of course we would come to support you at this terrible time,” Miranda murmured.

  “If you ever need anything, you know where we are,” Taverham began.

  “I will write,” he promised, earning a startled glance from Taverham. “I’m going away, you see. I would prefer it if you could keep news of my travels to yourself for a while.”

  “Leaving? No. Stay.” Taverham grasped his shoulders, appearing stricken. “If you become ill, I swear we will always look after you.”

  Everett broke free of Taverham’s grasp easily. “I’d never ask you to, but should that be my future, I want to see something of the world now. While I am well, I’m going to spend the mourning period traveling abroad,” he told Taverham. “Like we always talked of doing with Emily.”

  “Will you call upon Whitney?” Miranda asked, her eyes alight with speculation.

  “That woman does bear watching,” Taverham warned, seemingly without a clue that Everett’s interest in Whitney was slightly more romantic in nature than protective.

  “I will, but I will keep a distance for her sake,” he promised Miranda. “It is not my intention to curtail her time there.”

  Miranda smiled. “I am glad you are doing what is needed. You both wore such long faces the day you parted ways, but I understand why you could not stop her going, even if you should have told her the truth.”

  He frowned. “I will not risk her health, but I harbor a small hope that she will agree to accept my companionship for a while,” he murmured.

  “If I have learned anything about Miss Crewe, it is that she will hardly care for the proprieties.” Miranda turned away. “Come, husband. Let us not delay Everett a moment longer. He has a long journey ahead and a heart to recapture.”

  Taverham fought his wife’s managing. “What the devil are you talking about? What heart?”

  Miranda succeeded in steering him away a second time. “My dear husband, always so slow to grasp the obvious. Let me explain. Your best friend has fallen head over heels in love with the most eccentric woman we know.”

  “With Whitney Crewe?” he exclaimed a little too loudly as he turned back.

  Miranda dragged him on, whispering now, but clearly enough that Everett heard. “What better woman should he pursue than the one who already loves him?”

  Miranda all but forced her husband into the carriage, and they moved off and turned down their drive within minutes.

  He idly wondered how the rest of that conversation would go. Would Miranda admit to everything she’d pieced together? Everett suddenly didn’t care.

  He had a plan. The carriage was already packed for his trip and waiting beneath the shade beyond the cemetery.

  He had today and tomorrow to reach Dover, and the docks to book passage on a fast ship. Whitney was a full week ahead of him, but an easy crossing could make the interval much longer.

  He hoped he would not have to wait long for a ship that would deliver him straight to Whitney’s side. He had memorized her plans, but there was always the danger she might change them, too. He wanted to tell her face to face that he wasn’t a married man as soon as possible. He caressed the letter from her in his pocket.

  Whitney had promised she was eager to see him, and would always look for him. He was glad to know she’d taken up his offer of accommodation.

  He smiled, thinking of her enquiry about Lady Acton’s happiness. He worried
that his letter had given him away, and that Whitney suspected he’d been untruthful.

  He bid one last farewell to his sister and turned for the carriage. He set his cap upon his head, and looked up to find only the Blakes and Garrett Thompson had lingered after everyone else had gone away. The Blakes were holding hands, and he suddenly wanted the chance of love returned that he’d given up when Whitney had gone.

  He wanted her so badly he ached.

  He forced a smile for their sake to hide his distress. “Thank you all for coming.”

  “It’s no trouble. Are you all right, my lord?” Nancy peered into his face. “You’re very pale today, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “Merely tired,” he promised, restlessness gripping him a little tighter. He had spent his nights wondering if telling Whitney he wasn’t getting married would have made any difference to her plans. When morning broke through the trees and bathed his bedchamber in light, he had wanted to run after Whitney immediately and tell her before it was too late. The agony of waiting for her reply to his letter had only been appeased by hope when he received it. But there had been Emily to consider, to care for until now. Now she was gone, and he was truly free to do and say what he felt in his heart. “A little time will do me the world of good. Is there anything you need?”

  “No, nothing.” As Everett shuffled his feet, anxious to be on his way, Blake’s smile grew. “You’re going to chase after the redhead now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” he promised. “It may be some time before I see you all again.”

  “A merry dance she’ll lead you.” Blake laughed softly. “Knew you should have chosen her the day she stood in my workshop and you kept blushing.”

  “Now Blake, don’t tease him.” Nancy linked her arm though her husbands and smiled up at him in delight. “She’s just what he needs, and everyone who met her agrees with me. Redhead always make the best wives,” she said proudly, quoting Whitney back at him.