Secrets in Mourning

by Janelle Daniels

She didn’t have it in her anymore. And if she were being honest with herself, which she needed to be in her own head, she had come to love the old estate.

  It had character. It was so different than everything she had known before.

  Just like the owner.

  Is that what fascinated her? That he was different from other men? Was it the fact that he was attracted to her but fought it that she found so inviting?

  He was handsome, to be sure, but that wasn’t all. He was kind. Kind in a way she hadn’t seen before. Not only to people of his own class, but to everyone.

  He was special. But he wanted her to leave.

  And she would be wise to heed his wisdom. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong with him.

  Her nose twitched again. Then a third time.

  Was that smoke?

  She froze, standing like a doe sensing a threat. Definitely smoke.

  A high-pitched ring pierced the night sky. The estate bell was ringing, signaling people from all around to come and help put down a fire.

  Which had to mean it was large enough for someone to have noticed already.

  Moving easily through the manor, she made it out of the house, barely affected by the small doses of smoke in this area of the building.

  People were already filtering outside when others from the village ran toward the manor. A line had begun, ranging from the east wing down to the lake so that water could be moved swiftly.

  Leaving the west wing of the house, Victoria felt her stomach fill with pitch as she rounded the corner, watching in horror as fire shot out of windows, the glass exploding from the expanding air.

  “Molly!” Victoria ran to the girl who was helping another servant with a minor burn. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, although tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m not injured.”

  “Is everyone safe?”

  “I’m not sure.” She scanned the gathering crowd. “It looks as though everyone made it out. The fire was just coming into the servants’ quarters when the alarm was sounded. It could have been much worse.”

  “Thank heavens.” Victoria sighed in relief, but began searching the crowd again, looking for one face in particular. She didn’t want to think about how her heart began to accelerate as she sifted through the faces, her panic rising as she didn’t see Connor. And now that she thought about it, the Dowager Countess either.

  “Oh, good Lord,” Victoria whispered. Dread settled in her heart, knowing they were both still in the burning building. “Have you seen the Earl or his mother?”

  “Yes, I…” her mouth opened and closed. “No. Actually I haven’t seen either of them.” Her voice rose to a squeak. “You don’t think they could still be in there?”

  “They must be.” And at that moment, Victoria knew what she had to do. It didn’t matter if she got injured; it didn’t matter if she died. All she knew was that she couldn’t let him die. She began to run toward the house.

  “No! Victoria, no! It’s not safe!” Molly screamed, but Victoria barely heard her.

  If there was even a remote chance Connor was in there, trapped, she need to help him. Any anger she had felt from his rejection melted away as her heart screamed one truth over and over again.

  She couldn’t live without him.

  With love blazing as hotly as the flames that licked at the dry, decaying wood, Victoria pushed herself harder through the house, making her way to the room of the woman who had made her life hell.

  If he was anywhere, he would be heading there to save his mother.

  ***

  Connor cursed as the minor burn on his leg got splashed by the passing buckets. What the hell had happened?

  He knew people were often lax on festival nights as they over-imbibed, but he couldn’t imagine that one of his servants would be so careless as to leave a flame unattended. But accidents happened.

  “Move faster!” Connor called out, standing in line with the others, moving water buckets as quickly as possible while shouting out commands.

  Every hand was needed if they were going to save the manor. Including his own.

  After being assured that everyone was out of the house, he had begun leading his people in what needed to be done.

  “My lord!”

  “Molly?” He pushed away some of the hair that was sticking to his face from sweat. “Molly, what is it?” He took in her panic-glazed eyes and quickly moved out of the water line. When she began babbling incoherently, he gripped her shoulders hard, forcing her to focus. “Slow down. What happened?”

  “It’s Victoria,” she finally croaked out. His heart lurched in his chest. “She went back inside!”

  “What!” he roared, looking up as another window burst.

  “She thought you were in there with your mother and she went in after you.”

  “My mother?” He jerked his head around the crowd, not seeing her anywhere. “Good God!” He pushed by her quickly, going numb as he ran back into the burning building. Fear clogged his throat more effectively than the black smoke that billowed around him.

  He couldn’t lose her. Not now, not ever.

  He ignored the flames licking at the walls, occasionally flicking out long, hot tongues that scorched his skin. None of it mattered.

  “Connor!” He heard Victoria yell as he entered his mother’s suite. “Connor, thank heavens! I can’t get her to wake! I don’t know if she’s breathing.”

  Moving quickly into the room, he saw his mother’s limp body on the bed, Victoria pulling her, unable to move her unconscious weight.

  Seeing the flames had already entered the room, he knew there might not be enough time for them to get out. Not wasting another second, he scooped his mother’s limp weight in his arms. “Hurry! This room might collapse any moment,” he yelled over the flames.

  He didn’t need to tell her a second time. She followed closely at his heels, coughing as her lungs protested the black smoke. They made it to the first floor a moment before the stairs collapsed behind them.

  Victoria’s screams struck pure ice in his veins, but she kept moving with him, scared, but uninjured.

  The entire entryway was encased in flames. “To the back!”

  Even the furniture was on fire, charred and collapsing where it fell. Flames raced up the walls, eating the dry timber like a starved bear who had just woken up from a long winter.

  The halls seemed never ending. Time slowed by as every heartbeat hammered in his chest.

  Icy fear grasped hold of him. His sweat clammed his skin. He didn’t know if they’d make it out alive, didn’t know if these were the last few moments of their lives.

  He hadn’t told her that he loved her. And he might not ever have that opportunity again.

  The hallway in front of them was blocked, the door warped in its frame. Hefting his mother up higher in his arms, he made sure Victoria was clear before kicking the wood down, leaving splinters in its path.

  And when he thought they’d never take another breath of fresh air again, their feet touched the cobblestone of the garden, the path quickly turning into grass.

  A safe distance away, he laid his mother down, freezing for a moment until he saw her chest heaving in ragged breaths.

  She would live.

  He turned quickly to Victoria, scanning her for injuries. Seeing none, he felt his body sag in relief.

  “The house… I’m so sorry.”

  Yanking her into his arms, his mouth went to hers. His body shook as he realized he had come so close to losing her. He didn’t care about the damn house. Didn’t care about anything but her.

  She rode the storm with him, tongues darting, flicking, mingling as they purged their fear. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, racing in time with his as they both charged forward.

  Breaking contact, his hands shook as he brought them to her face, carefully holding her jaw like porcelain.

  “What were you thinking?”

  She didn’t turn away fr
om his blazing look and he felt a small thrill. “I thought you were in there. I didn’t see you outside.”

  “Oh, God. You could have been killed.” He shook again, his eyes closing sharply at the thought.

  Her cool hand touched his face, leaving a smudge of soot in its wake. “I’m all right. And I’m glad I went in.” She looked down at his mother. “I couldn’t have borne the thought of her dying because I hadn’t the courage to go in after you both.”

  “After everything she’s done?” He couldn’t weed out the disbelief in his voice. He didn’t know many people that would risk their lives for someone who had treated them so poorly.

  “Yes. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

  In that moment, he wanted to pick her up and carry her off somewhere quiet where he could tell her how much he loved and admired her. She was a strong-minded woman, and she had come so far from the spoiled debutante that had first arrived. That woman wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help another for any reason. But this gorgeous, courageous woman, who chipped in on laundry day and befriended servants, had almost sacrificed her life for another.

  If he hadn’t been in love with her before, he would have loved her now.

  Pride welled in his chest, but now wasn’t the time. He needed to help salvage the house.

  Reading his look, she stepped away from him. “Go. There’s still time to save it.”

  He nodded, giving her one lingering look before leaving.

  ***

  They had saved the house, but just barely. The guest wing would need to be completely rebuilt, but with some intensive cleaning, some of the family’s quarters would be habitable within the week.

  Inspecting the damage the next morning, Connor was grim with how much destruction had been done. And how much it would cost to repair it.

  The servants were exhausted, the entire manor was dusted with soot, and he had come close to losing the only person he had ever loved.

  Last night, when he hadn’t been sure if they would make it out of the house alive, he had regretted not telling her that he loved her. But now, he was glad he hadn’t.

  There were no ties between them, nothing holding her here.

  She needed to go.

  Kicking what once was a gilded chair leg, he watched it crumble as it rolled across the remnants of the Persian rug.

  He had nothing to give her. Nothing to offer her. Not even a dream. Since he had inherited the title, he had dreamed of seeing Lynfield Hall back in all its glory. While that dream would still be accomplished in time, he wouldn’t subject Victoria to the life they would have to live in order to carve out the finances for the project.

  She would never have the newest gowns, never have the most modern furnishings. And there most definitely wouldn’t be yearly trips to London.

  Regardless of how far she had grown, she would die without those things. And he wouldn’t be the man that made her wilt.

  He refused.

  He would rather let her go than ruin her. And if she stayed in this burned heap, that’s exactly what would happen to her.

  It was for the best that he avoided her until she left. There wasn’t anything left to say to her. With the excuse of always being too busy to talk and with a message passed through a servant that he ‘wished her to have a pleasant journey,’ he was able to keep his distance.

  Though it almost killed him.

  But he couldn’t keep himself from watching out the window as her carriage was loaded. The trunks that had seemed so luxurious when they had arrived were covered in the same coat of blackness that permeated the entire house. No doubt her belongings looked as if they were used to clean the chimney. But he doubted it would be difficult to order a new wardrobe.

  She would be sitting in the carriage by now, waiting to leave. Was she thinking of him? Would she miss anything from her time here? he wondered with an ache in his heart.

  Though it cost him, he stood still as the driver climbed atop the coach, giving one quick snap of the reigns before the horses moved to a walk. The carriage slowly disappeared down the lane.

  She was gone.

  The pain that seared through him was unimaginable, and every cell in his body screamed to go after her and bring her back home. But this wasn’t her home. And she didn’t belong here.

  “You are a bigger fool than I had ever imagined,” his mother announced from the doorway.

  “Excuse me?” he asked, turning slowly from the window as if he hadn’t heard her correctly.

  “Oh, you heard me. You’re a fool. Didn’t I teach you to use your brain at all?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I’m not really in the mood for one of our heart to hearts, mother. Perhaps another time.” He gave her his back, dismissing her from his presence.

  “Don’t play lord of the manor with me, Connor. Remember that I was married to your father. There isn’t much you could do to scare me off.”

  “What do you want from me?” his voice raised as he whipped back to face her. “What can I do to get you to leave me alone? To get some peace?”

  “You don’t need peace. What you need is a good kick in the head. Perhaps it would help you to make better decisions.”

  “What on Earth are you talking about? I’m sick of your games, mother. I’m sick of placating you. I’m sick of paying for what Father did. I’m not him. So you can just stop treating me that way.”

  Her mouth hung open. “I’ve never—”

  “Don’t.” His voice was deadly quiet. “Don’t deny it. He went out on you, produced countless bastards and hadn’t the decency to hide it. He never cared one ounce about your feelings or mine. I know I resemble him. I’ve seen the way you look at me as if you were looking at him.”

  “That’s not true.” Her cane cracked on the floor. “Yes, you resemble him. And while at times, you have a look that reminds me of him and it dredges up memories, I have never held you responsible for his actions. Until this moment, I have only been proud to call you my son.”

  “Until now?”

  Her lips pursed as if she tasted a lemon. “It does not give me any pleasure to say this, but you are a fool if you let that girl get away.”

  “What?” he couldn’t help from yelling the question. “You hate her.”

  “I don’t hate her. In fact, if you must know, she reminds me of myself when I was her age.”

  “I’ll make sure never to mention it.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but her lips quirked slightly in amusement. “Cheeky boy. She belongs here at Lynfield Hall.”

  “No.” He shook his head emphatically, but his shoulders stooped under the weight of hopelessness. “She doesn’t. There is nothing for her here but a broken-down house, a motley crew of servants, a woman who treats her worse than a slave,” he said, looking at her knowingly. “and a life of going without,” he finished.

  “What about you? Are you not worth the sacrifice?”

  “She should never have to sacrifice anything. Especially for me.”

  “I think I should be the judge of that.” Victoria’s voice entered the conversation from the opposite side of the room.

  Jerking in shock, he could only stare at her.

  “And that’s my cue to leave,” his mother smirked, winking to Victoria before she left.

  “We’ll settle this later,” Victoria whispered to the woman, but it was loud enough for him to hear.

  “Indeed we will.” His mother left the room with a self-satisfied smile.

  “I thought you had left,” he said lamely.

  She walked into the room, taking off her gloves before setting them on the back of the sofa. “I did.”

  “Why?” He couldn’t seem to finish the question, but she knew it anyway.

  “Why did I come back? Hmm… let’s see.” She tapped her chin as if she were thinking of an answer. “I’ve decided that I quite enjoy it here.”

  He gulped, his heart leaping at her words as his mind screamed for him to turn her away, to make her l
eave so that she could have a better life.

  He wasn’t listening.

  She moved closer to him and all he could do was let his eyes feast on her. Gorge on the vision of her curves that he had thought to never see again.

  “Your time in mourning is finished. You’ll like London as well.” His voice was scratchy.

  “I’ve made friends here.”

  He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to haul her against him. “You have friends in London.”

  She shook her head softly and took another step toward him. “Actually, I don’t. I want to stay here.”

  He forced out a bitter laugh. “Well then pick up the broom in the corner, honey. There’s lots of work to be done.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Turning, she grabbed the broom and began to sweep.

  “Jesus!” He grabbed the broom out of her hands. “You don’t belong here, Victoria. Go back to London.”

  “I belong with you.”

  He shook his head firmly, though her words wove their own magic. “I can’t give you the life you deserve.”

  “All I want is you.” She moved close to him again, matching her toes up with his.

  Her scent wafted over him, the rose soap from her bath temporarily overwhelmed the smoke. “You would come to regret it. I can’t buy you new clothes, I can’t host grand balls, I can’t even give you a decent place to sleep, for heaven’s sake.”

  “I don’t care about any of that.”

  “You will.”

  “No. I’ll only care if I’m not with you. I love you, Connor.” The words were loud and strong, her declaration ringing in its truth.

  The breath knocked out of him. “Don’t. Don’t say that.”

  “I love you,” she said firmly. “Whether you want to hear it or not. I do. And you’re stuck with me. I’m not leaving.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He tried to sound firm, but his resolve was weakening. He wanted her, and he wasn’t a good enough man to turn her away when she offered something he so desperately needed.

  Her love.

  “I think I do.”

  His arms closed around her and her eyes lit with pleasure. “You will probably end up regretting those words someday.”

  “No. Never. I love y—”

  But he cut her off with a kiss. His lips sealing her words between them, using them to forge a bond between them that wouldn’t break.