He bit back a groan and tightened his hold. “You’ll never be alone again, love,” he assured her, kissing her hair. “I’ll always be here. I’ll always miss you. And I will always look for you. You’re not alone anymore.”
She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, clinging just as tightly. “Neither are you,” she replied.
He closed his eyes and pressed a soft kiss against her skin, wondering if that could even be possible.
Chapter Eleven
Very early the next morning, Lucas slipped from the bed quietly, careful not to jostle anything. Not that it would have mattered, Gemma slept more soundly than anyone he’d ever known and he suspected war could break out and the cannons would not even give her a stir.
He dressed with quick efficiency, and had his horse saddled. If all went accordingly, he would be back before Gemma woke, and he could have the pleasure of waking her himself.
Mornings with her were his favorite.
But he had matters to see to, and she could not know of them.
The morning was still and hung with a heavy mist, the sun just barely breaking through. It would have been a perfect opportunity for a long ride and contemplation, but he was only going four miles.
Beverton House soon loomed before him, and he grunted in discomfort.
He’d battled with himself over this course for quite some time last evening, but it was the only solution that made any sense.
He knew the earl from their dealings with the landowners in the area, and knew him to be a man of sense, wisdom, and discretion.
And he had a vested interest in Gemma, which made Lucas inclined to trust him more.
He could be of some assistance in this.
A stodgy but remarkably alert butler showed him into the quiet house, and he faintly wondered if the earl would need to be woken for this interview.
That would hardly be a good way to start.
But a few moments later, Beverton walked in, casually dressed, and looking mildly curious.
“Blackmoor,” he said in greeting as he came and took his hand.
“Beverton,” Lucas replied, shaking firmly. “I hope I am not come too early, I do not wish to disturb.”
Beverton shook his head and waved him to a nearby room. “Not at all, I had just finished breakfast.”
Lucas nodded, satisfied that his instinct had been correct.
He glanced around the room, a comfortable and masculine study that reflected a taste similar to his own. Simply furnished, classically designed, and free of distraction, with plenty of books lining the shelves. The massive desk was organized and at the moment bore several sheets of parchment with details and plans very similar to the ones Lucas had been poring over with his solicitor for the past few days. It seemed that the problems plaguing his tenants were not limited to his lands alone.
“Did you come to examine my study, Blackmoor, or is there something else?” Beverton asked, his tone polite but amused.
Lucas turned to look at the earl and found him leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching him carefully. The man was direct, but he appreciated that. He rather preferred frankness and honesty, and saw no need for inflation in word.
“There is a… private matter,” Lucas said carefully, clasping his hands behind him. “One that I would prefer my wife not become aware of, and though we are not close, I trust your judgment.”
“I am glad to hear that, I feel the same way,” the earl replied. “Why can Gemma not know?”
Lucas exhaled slowly. “It may be a dangerous sort of matter.”
Beverton stiffened at that and his brows rose in surprise. “What sort of danger are we talking about? Are you into something…?”
He shook his head at once. “No, nothing of the kind. I cannot even say for sure what it is, but…” He trailed off, not knowing how to describe what he was feeling, the foreboding that seemed to seize the breath in his chest.
“Why me?” Beverton asked in a low voice. “You have better acquaintances than I, other men you can trust.”
“All true,” Lucas replied with a nod. “But you are here. And you value Gemma on a personal level. And that is all that I need.”
He received a firm nod in return. “I’d say I’m honored, but at the moment, I think I will reserve judgment.” There was a quick smile and then he was serious once more. “You may tell me whatever you wish, and it will remain between us. I will do what I can to help. What is it?”
Despite the oddity of coming over to this man’s estate early in the morning, of desiring to confide in a man with whom he had only ever done business, and acting in a manner completely unlike his usual behavior, his natural reservation was suddenly there in full force.
Beverton waited patiently, apparently feeling no need to rush him.
There was nothing for it, he supposed. He needed help and his resources were limited.
“When Gemma came to visit you yesterday,” Lucas began on a reluctant exhale, “she was approached by a man. She did not recognize him, and he gave no name. He only asked that she give this to me.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the missive, handing it out.
Beverton took it, his brow furrowing. “Did she read it?”
Lucas shook his head. “No, she said it did not seem important, and almost forgot about it. I treated it with little importance for her sake and did not read it myself until much later.”
Beverton opened it and read the contents, then frowned more. “‘Mind your valuables’.” He glanced up. “Is that supposed to mean something to you?”
“Not really,” he said, taking it back. “I have no valuables at Thornacre. Nothing of significant monetary worth, nothing I would miss, nothing anyone would gain by stealing.” His jaw tightened and he met the earl’s dark gaze steadily. “Except my wife.”
Beverton stilled completely, every feature suddenly hard.
“I cannot say for certain that is what was implied,” Lucas continued, his voice markedly lower. He folded the missive and replaced it in his pocket. “But I have thought on it over and over, and it is the only thing that makes sense.”
“Why would it make sense?” Beverton asked, moving to sit in a chair and waving Lucas into one as well. “And why would a threat of any kind be made towards you? Who wishes you ill?”
Lucas sighed as he sank into a chair. “It would be easier to list the people who do not wish me ill than the alternative. The rumors surrounding my person continually over the last few years see to that quite handily, and I have seen no reason to refute the onslaught of them. I do not care, you see. To be perfectly blunt, I care for nothing of Society and none but a scant few individuals. Gemma is the chief of those. Anyone who would truly wish me ill could hurt me the most through her.”
The earl swore softly and ran a hand through his hair. He shook his head, then looked back at him, placing his hand near his mouth thoughtfully. “But why threaten you at all?”
Lucas chewed on the inside of his mouth for a moment. “What do you know of my family’s history, Beverton?”
He shrugged, his eyes steady. “Only the rumors. And what is said out here.”
That was to be expected. His own tenants did not trust him, but as he had proven over time to be a most capable and considerate landowner, they remained and had confidence in his abilities. None of them would be speaking well of him in other respects, but neither were they fleeing the county with horrifying tales to tell.
“My family has been living at Thornacre for centuries,” Lucas told him, settling into his chair. “The ancestry was once respectable, but wild behaviors and a taste for excesses soon rid them of that. My father inherited those same behaviors and tastes.”
He snorted and shook his head. “For all of his claims of important peerage and parading his title, he ruined the family more than anyone else in the past combined. The only way to salvage anything was to marry an heiress, and he managed to persuade one that he was in love with her.”
“Your mother,” the earl murmured, keeping his voice low.
He nodded. “Not a pleasant match for her family, but her heart was lost to him. And soon, so was her fortune. He never loved her, never treated her well, and we watched her suffer for it. None of her fortune went to restoring the estate and the lands, it went to my father’s pockets, and then to the tables and pockets of other men. And women.”
Lucas ran a hand over his face, suddenly fatigued. “My brother was the same sort of man. Reckless, wild, extravagant… Cared for absolutely nothing but his own satisfaction and pleasures. I was the only remotely sensible one, and they knew it. I was the one who worked with the solicitor to try to salvage things. I was the one who wanted to restore whatever shred of decency our family ever had. I was determined that at least one of us would amount to something.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Beverton commented with an amiable shrug.
Lucas did not respond to that. “Because they knew my nature, they could use me to their ends. My brother refused to marry, had absolutely no interest in anything of the sort. He and my father made enemies faster than I could attempt to resolve matters. Not that it would have done any good, I am not exactly adept at dealing with people.” He broke off for a tight, humorless smile, which Beverton returned without comment.
“The only way to salvage anything,” he continued with a harsh sigh, “as any one saw it, including myself, was to marry an heiress. Again. My brother wouldn’t, and for that all of England ought to be grateful. So it came to me to save the family, and I did it. I would be a credit to my family. I married an heiress with popularity and a respectable pedigree. Her fortune, however, was mine to control and not my father or brother’s. I put it to use for the estate and built up what I could.”
“And then what?” Beverton asked when Lucas did not continue.
He snorted again. “And then three months after my marriage, my brother died of an overdose of laudanum while intoxicated in a brothel. My father died a few months after that in a duel over a horse he had bet on. The rumors festered and grew from there, but I can honestly say most of the things they say about my family are true. Even with my own rumors, I am still the most respectable one. Not that anyone else sees it that way, it just proves their point about us.”
He shrugged and rubbed at his eyes. His life was one exhausting tale of disappointment and failure after another, and the telling only reinforced that. “So you see, the idea of a threat is fairly second nature by now. I am surprised it has taken this long for one to appear.”
Beverton whistled low and shook his head. “I never imagined anything like that. What a waste.” He sat forward, his eyes focusing on Lucas. “What can I do?”
Was it really so simple as that? He told one of the darkest parts of his history to this man, and there was no judgment or recrimination? Merely an offer of his help and support?
It was astonishing beyond measure.
“I must protect Gemma at all costs,” Lucas said, feeling a bit dazed. “I don’t even know if the threat is legitimate, or if it is truly regarding her at all. I do not have the ability to glean information as easily as others. We are returning to London shortly, but the threat was issued here. If you could keep your ears open, apprise me of anything you hear… I do not hear all that I should, and I listen even less. I would not trouble you if it were me alone, but with Gemma…”
Beverton held up a hand, shaking his head. “Say no more. I would be happy to. I happen to have some gossiping tenants, and I’ve been wondering what to do with them. Good people, honest workers. I can see what comes up.” He tilted his head just a little. “What about London? Do you anticipate trouble there?”
Lucas glowered and slowly rose. “I always anticipate trouble in London,” he muttered darkly, “but there, at least, I have some resources.”
The earl rose and extended his hand. “You may consider me one there as well. Whatever I may offer, I do.”
Lucas shook his hand, the unfamiliar sensation of gratitude swelling within him. “Thank you. I hope this all proves unnecessary.”
“As do I.”
Lucas nodded and walked for the door.
“Blackmoor?”
He turned slightly and only raised a querying brow.
The earl was facing him, arms loosely folded across his chest. “What happened to your first wife?”
He had expected the question earlier, and with more finesse than that. But the earl had been an army man before he inherited, and Lucas’s experience with him had only proven the man to be open and forthcoming. He tried to ignore the irritation at being questioned thus, as it was hardly a comfortable thing, but he did have validity in asking. Considering what help he had offered and the willingness with which he had listened, Lucas would allow it.
But it did not mean he would be forthcoming in return.
He offered a bitter hint of a smile. “She died. That is all I have ever said on the subject.”
Before he could be questioned further, he nodded and quit the house, desperate to be rid of the shadows that had descended.
He needed to go home and hold his wife.
While he still could.
“I have never been this nervous in my entire life, and I once played for a royal prince.”
“Did you really?”
“He was ugly and fat and an unimportant cousin,” Gemma snapped, fidgeting with her silk. It would take some time for her to become accustomed to the finery she was now dressing in, and on a night like this, even the smooth silk was chafing. “And if anybody had mentioned that to me before my performance, I would have felt much better about it.”
Lucas plucked her hand off of her skirt. “I am sure you were delightful. Now, why are you nervous?”
She looked up at her husband incredulously. “We are about to meet your closest relatives, who just happen to be the most influential members of Society. The fact that you are as calm as you are is absolutely ridiculous.”
He chuckled and squeezed her hand when she tried to drag it back to her dress. “They are my family, love. I am not intimidated by them at all. If it weren’t for you, I would not even be seeing them tonight.” He frowned in mock consternation. “Though I don’t understand why you agreed to come our first night in London. You haven’t even seen the house yet. I had a grand tour planned.”
Gemma’s cheeks flushed but she glared at him all the same. “I may be new at being your wife, Blackmoor, but I certainly know a duty when it is presented. We are paying our respects to your family, and considering the imposing nature of said family, I am quite terrified, so you might as well stop teasing me and set me at ease!”
Lucas slowly released her hand, and she was quick to begin examining her gloves. They were a pristine white, but she still felt as though they were tainted with age, as all her previous ones had been. And she could not go to the Rivertons with aged gloves.
“You’re right.” Lucas murmured softly. “I am sorry.”
Unwilling to give in to emotion, for fear she would never recover, she nodded just once, readjusting her gloves for the third time.
Her husband released a heavy sigh beside her and reached out to graze her cheek with his bare fingers. “I miss life at Thornacre already.”
Gemma’s eyelashes fluttered as his touch soothed her more effectively than any word could have, and memories of Thornacre flashed across her mind and heart with surprisingly painful clarity.
She took his fingers from her face and kissed them gently. “So do I,” she whispered.
There was nothing else to say on the subject, and they rode the rest of the way to the Rivertons’ in silence, a thick, unspoken emotion between them.
The last three days at Thornacre had been some of the most treasured, and it pained Gemma to leave. London was a return to the reality of life while Thornacre had been an idyllic fantasy for them both.
Lucas had been free of care and worry there, for the most part, and she had grown closer to him than she had dared hope. H
e’d shown her places he’d found as a child, including some ruins of an ancient monastery, had raced her across the estate on foot, waded through a stream with her… Everything she had ever wanted to do as a wild young girl, he had known and fulfilled. He had chased her through the house, lay with her in the grass as they watched clouds pass, and loved her long into the night with more tenderness and feeling than she could ever have imagined. Tears had been shed on her part, much to her chagrin, but he had merely kissed them away and held her closer.
Thornacre would always be home.
Nerves faded and she leaned her head on Lucas’s shoulder, and was rewarded at once with his arm around her, pulling her close.
She said nothing, and neither did he.
They pulled up to the impressive estate, just on the outskirts of London, and Gemma moved away from Lucas with a faint gasp of astonishment.
She had never seen any building look as grand as this, and all alight as if expecting the high Society of London to flock unto it. The windows were large, but fine and clear, the stone polished and smooth, and the candles within only highlighted the perfection of the edifice. If the exterior could be so impressive, what would within be like?
“A bit much, isn’t it?” Lucas muttered dryly. “Not sure whose idea it was, but they do enjoy making a statement.”
Gemma turned a critical eye to him, only to find his lips twitching a little. “You like them,” she pointed out, smiling herself.
He shrugged, but she could see it in his eyes. “They are family.”
“So why not acknowledge it?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
Immediately his expression shuttered and he shook his head. “Not now, Gemma. Not tonight.”
“But…”
“I mean it.”
She clamped down on her lip and stared at him for a moment, noting the tension in his entire frame, but especially in his jaw. The coldness in his eyes, the furrow between his brows… She had never seen him so serious and focused, and she knew she had pushed too far. Which seemed odd, as she had not pushed at all.
A Wager Worth Making (Arrangements, Book 7) Page 13