Realm 06 - A Touch of Love

by Regina Jeffers

  Her uncle’s mild oath did Lucinda well. If she had been a man, she might have challenged Gideon Warren to a duel for his total disregard for her future. “Why did you not return to Merritt House?”

  “Father had let the property when he returned to service, and I had always wanted to visit London. I purchased passage on a coach and made my way to the Capital. With my widow’s pension and the small allowance from my mother’s will, I did well until Simon appeared on my doorstep.”

  Charleton appeared quite vexed. “I should never have accepted the Belgium reports that you likely perished. Early on, I checked Captain Warren’s files, but there was no news of your claiming his allowance.”

  “While he was still alive, Father would not hear of my accepting the allowance, but after Father Warren’s rejection, I held no other alternative.” Thankfully, her uncle did not comment on her refusal to seek his assistance.

  “Did you not claim the rents to the Devon estate?”

  Lucinda forced the lump in her throat away. “I had no rights to the property.”

  The earl’s tone was kinder than she deserved. “I demanded the old earl bequeath the property to Roderick upon his marriage to your mother with the understanding it would be left to their child–their children. The house is yours if you wish it. At a minimum, the rents should be returned to you.”

  Moisture returned to Lucinda’s eyes. She owned a piece of property. She felt her heart falter. Small, it was, but she was not destitute, after all. “The rents would do me well for now. I am not certain I would wish to live along side Coltman Hall and the Warrens.”

  Her uncle said by way of agreement, “I will send word to my man of business to learn what has become of the rents and to make arrangements for their immediate dispersement to you. That is if you hold no objections.”

  “That would be most kind, Your Lordship.”

  Contentment glittered in his nut-brown eyes. “This has been an superb beginning. Thank you, my Dear. I believe it is time I have the acquaintance of young Simon now.”

  Carter had not gone far. In fact, he had chosen an adjoining sitting room to read through the reports, which had arrived in his absence. Carefully, he had released the latch and set the door ajar so he might eavesdrop upon Mrs. Warren’s conversation with the earl. He could not decipher the words, but he could hear the tone and knew satisfaction. No anger peppered their speech.

  If the lady knew of his deviousness, Mrs. Warren would not appreciate his continued meddling, but Carter held little self-control when it came to the woman. He felt compelled to see her well. After all, bringing Charleton into her life had been at his urging.

  Her soft sobs brought him closer to the door, and Carter debated upon whether to step into the room; but when she chose to respond to the earl’s encouragements, Carter had resumed his pretense. It was odd to be so obsessed with anything beyond his work, and he was uncertain he liked the person he had become of late.

  Finally, he heard the boy’s uneven hop upon the steep stairs. The child looked up from where he held tightly to the balustrade. “You are home, at last,” Simon said with an easy smile.

  Carter smiled in return. “Mrs. Warren and I were absent but eight and forty hours.”

  “It felt longer,” the child confessed. His expression changed to one of wonder. “Did you hear, Sir Carter? I am to greet an earl.”

  Carter lifted the boy from the stairs to set Simon before him and then knelt to straighten the child’s jacket. “You have met an earl previously,” he reminded the boy. “Lord McLauren is an earl also.”

  Simon’s forehead scrunched up in disapproval. “This is different,” he declared. “Lord McLauren is Ethan’s family, and Lord Charleton is mine.”

  Carter loved the way the child reasoned. “Then it is important you not keep the earl waiting.” He led the child to the sitting room door. “Should I announce you?” he asked conspiratorially.

  The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Add a ‘mister,’ please.”

  Carter offered an abbreviated bow. “An excellent idea,” he said as he tapped on the door. Swinging the door wide, he said with delight. “My Lord, permit me to present Mr. Simon Warren, recently of London, England.” Carter rested his hand on the child’s shoulder as a reminder for the boy to bow.

  Charleton beamed with delight. “Come in, young man.” He gestured Simon forward, and Mrs. Warren held out her hand for the child. Carter offered the room an exit bow, and with a wink of approval, he disappeared into Blake’s Run passageways. Yet, he purposely left the door partially open; it was a habit he could not quite break. He should have been pleased: Mrs. Warren had discovered family; yet, Carter experienced a real sense of loss. Before the week was complete, the lady would have no need for his presence in her life.

  “Come with me,” Arabella caught Lucinda’s hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Lucinda laughed easily. This amazing woman had opened her home and her heart to Lucinda. It was wonderful to have a true friend, something with whom she could share the trials and the triumphs of life. They entered one of the chambers located in the family wing. “And whose quarters are these?” Lucinda asked in comfortable companionship.

  “This suite belongs to my husband’s youngest sister, Delia. Is it not lovely?”

  Lucinda turned a slow circle. “It is magnificent. I cannot imagine growing into womanhood in such a place. All I knew while following my father’s military career were small cottages, officer rooms, and tents.”

  Arabella hiked her skirts to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Was it terribly dangerous? When I first heard you had followed your husband and then your father into battle, I was quite envious. Not many women have known such adventure.”

  Lucinda said ironically, “I am certain most ladies of the ton would think me a hoyden. In truth, much of the time was pure drudgery: constant mending of socks and uniforms. Preparing meals from meager commodities. Cleaning away mud and dirt. Yet, there were moments of valor among our men, and I bear witness to the best England has to offer.” Instinctively, Lucinda thought of Carter Lowery. In her mind’s eye, she easily imagined him on the battlefield, leading by example. Never accepting defeat.

  “I can assure you, no one shall ever think me a lady of the ton,” Arabella Lowery declared boldly. “I ride as if the Devil chased me. I speak when I should hold my tongue.” She blushed before expelling an ironic laugh. “However, Lord Hellsman seems to prefer me without all the refined manners my cousin Annalee purports to possess.” She whispered conspiratorially, “Baron Blakehell had shaped an alliance with Annalee’s family; I was not the baron’s choice for his son.”

  Oddly, from the moment of her acquaintance with the couple, Lucinda had thought the Hellsmans were a perfect match. “You are fortunate, Lady Hellsman. Most men wish to change the women they affect,” Lucinda declared. “If a woman possesses an original thought, she is seen as a bluestocking.”

  Arabella chuckled, “Most men would say it is we women who set our sights on reforming them.”

  Lucinda sat on the bed’s corner. “Is the battle only to be lost?”

  Lady Hellsman’s eyebrow rose is curiosity. “You were a married lady, Mrs. Warren. You understand the need to compromise.”

  “Compromise is often another word for obey,” Lucinda said bitterly.

  Tentatively, Lady Hellsman leaned forward to capture Lucinda’s hand. Arabella’s touch was both comforting and intimidating. “I agree. Some men take their vows too seriously.” She paused before asking, “Was Captain Warren one of those men?”

  Lucinda looked away. The memory of her time with Matthew Warren always left her feeling wanting. “I cannot say Mr. Warren was particularly strict…” She bit her lower lip to ward away the wave of emotions rushing to her chest. “Actually…” Lucinda cleared her throat. “Actually, Captain Warren was often quite strict. We were betrothed from childhood, but I do not think my husband was pleased with the connection. I have thought long on it: Captain Warren could h
ardly break a promise to the daughter of his commanding officer. I foolishly held hopes that after the war–once we were on our own–we could have found a commonality. Unfortunately, Mr. Warren held the belief others only saw his achievements as being a result of his connection to the colonel.”

  Sympathy laced Lady Hellsman’s voice. “Why is it we women find excuses for a man’s poor behavior? Why do we place the blame upon our shoulders, as if we possessed the power physically to force them to act insensitively?”

  Despite her low spirits, Lucinda smiled broadly. “Can you not see it?” she asked on a breathy inhale. “Matthew Warren, you must act the role of prat today!” She mocked as she shook a scolding finger at an imaginary figure.

  Lady Hellsman joined in the silliness. Placing her fists on her hips she said shrewishly, “Lawrence Lowery, you are to confront your father regarding our relationship.”

  Lucinda burst into laughter. “I cannot imagine Lord Hellsman doing more than pulling you upon his lap.”

  Arabella blushed, but she nodded enthusiastically. “Likely swallow my sharp-tongued words with a kiss of dominance.”

  Lucinda had never had such a free conversation: She enjoyed the idea of speaking without censure; yet, she captured her laughter to ask, “Why have you brought me to this lovely room?”

  Lady Hellsman swallowed her mirth to speak earnestly. “Because the former Delia Lowery is a most delicate woman,” she declared as she scrambled from the bed. “When Lord Hellsman rescued my sister Abigail, my cousin Annalee, and me from Dark Peak, our bags remained at our inn; therefore, the baroness opened her daughters’ wardrobes for our use. Delia is a tad shorter than I, more of your stature, and the dresses a bit too young, but I learned to love Delia’s sense of style. I thought you might make use of several of those that remain. You cannot depart for the earl’s estate with the looks of a poor relative.”

  Lucinda glanced at her well-worn day dress, and Arabella quickly apologized. “I meant no offense, Mrs. Warren. You are an incomparable woman, and few could claim your resilience.”

  Lucinda swallowed her pride. Arabella Lowery spoke honestly, and Lucinda had always claimed to respect frankness. “Perhaps you should show me the gowns and permit me to decide.”

  A smile exploded upon Lady Hellsman’s lips. “Wait until you see Delia’s riding habits. There is a blue one, which would do wonders in highlighting the golden tones of your skin.” Arabella removed several gowns from the ones in the dressing room and laid them upon the bed.

  In wonder, Lucinda fingered the fine cloth. Silks, satin, fine lawn, the best muslins. Regret rushed over her: She had lost so much by marrying Matthew Warren. “Oh, my,” she sighed. “These are exquisite, but will not Lord Hellsman hold objections to your offering his sister’s belongings to a stranger?”

  Lady Hellsman waved a dismissive hand. “No man would notice if a woman of your beauty wore the same dress twice.” She reached for the buttons on the back of Lucinda’s gown. “Don a few, and then make your choices.”

  Lucinda wished to feel the soft cloth against her skin. She still held the memory of Sir Carter’s eyes upon her entrance at the McLauren estate. She permitted Lady Hellsman to assist her to undress. Reaching for a delightful confection of the purest gold, Lucinda allowed the tawny yellow daydream to slide easily over her form.

  “Your skin and hair makes it possible for you to wear nearly any shade, but I suspect the deeper hues are more to your liking.”

  Lucinda nodded mutely. In the mirror, her reflection told the story of a woman she had yet to meet. “The color…the color is perfect.”

  “That it is,” Lady Hellsman said admiringly. “Carter will love it on you. Remove the extra row of lace, and you shall be a walking dream.”

  Lucinda’s color deepened. “Do you really think…? I mean to say, it would please me to know the earl’s acknowledgement.”

  Lady Hellsman frowned. “You wish only to please Charleton? What has become of my brother Carter?”

  The flush upon her cheeks spread to Lucinda’s neck and chest. “The baronet has stated his desire for us to part ways.” Her voice sounded strangely unfamiliar. Was it the fear of never seeing Carter Lowery again speaking?

  Arabella’s lower lip formed a pout. “I held such dreams of Carter finding happiness.”

  Lucinda hid her expression by smoothing out the gown’s wrinkles. “Sir Carter has chosen his mistress in the form of the Home Office.”

  Lady Hellsman also appeared embarrassed. “I suppose, but I had hoped to call you ‘sister.’” She reached for the gown’s laces and busied herself through the awkward moment.

  Lucinda would have counted herself blessed to have Arabella Lowery as her sister. “We may remain friends,” she assured. “When Simon and I depart for Lancashire, I would adore having a friend with whom to exchange letters and visits.”

  Arabella smiled comfortingly. “I would enjoy that also.” She tightened the lower laces and straightened the seams across Lucinda’s back. “Oh, look!” she exclaimed. “We must be sisters of the soul. I possess a similar scar upon my left shoulder. How did you come to yours?”

  The vision of her boldness brought another rush of color to her cheeks. “It was in Belgium. I attempted to protect a wounded British soldier, and his enemy struck me for my brazen behavior.”

  Arabella gasped. “You were so close to the battle?”

  Lucinda immediately realized her error, and her mind raced to cover her mistake. “I…I foolishly…foolishly sought my father’s…my father’s remains on the battlefield. I held hopes of giving him a proper burial, but I came upon a wounded soldier left for dead. Scavengers meant to strip him of his clothes and weapons. When I attempted to stop them, one of the men struck me with a whip.”

  “What happened next?” Lady Hellsman whispered into the room’s silence.

  Again, Lucinda lied. “The soldier died when they moved him too roughly. I failed him.” She hated beginning her friendship with half-truths, but no one would understand how she regretted her decisions to prove herself worthy of being the colonel’s daughter. With an ironic smile, she added, “War is not all glorious victories.” Lucinda changed the subject. “And now you must tell me of your mishap.” She turned to catch up Lady Hellsman’s hands.

  Arabella laughed self-consciously. “As I said earlier, I am a hellion by nature; my father taught me how to ride hard, and he permitted me my head. Upon my acquaintance with Lord Hellsman, my reputation for mischief proved true. Lord Hellsman had saved me from the rainstorm on Dark Peak, later from a fall into the estate’s tarn, and then one of my suitors unseated him during the race to the hounds. Three soakings in less than a week brought on an ague and a high fever.

  “While my Lord recuperated, the baron had placed a wager with Hellsman’s university enemy for a horse race. If the Blake’s Run stable lost, Lawrence would forfeit his favorite stallion, the one upon which my husband wishes to build his line. There was no one else to ride Triton so I convinced Sir Carter to dress me as a groom, and I would ride against Viscount Ransing. The viscount did not appreciate my aggressiveness on the horse. He meant to knock me from Triton’s back.”

  “It is my turn to be stunned,” Lucinda admitted.

  Lady Hellsman grinned mischievously. “Lord Hellsman and Sir Carter arranged several ‘accidents’ to beset Viscount Ransing. The viscount is now married to my cousin Annalee and is theoretically ‘family.’ However, I do not suspect there shall be much interaction between the Lowerys and the viscount. Hard feelings remain between them.”

  Lucinda asked, “The same cousin who was intended for Lord Hellsman?”

  Arabella laughed paradoxically. “Yes, we are all family now. Stranger things could occur, do you not think, Mrs. Warren?”

  “And so you mean to leave in the morning?” Law said with disapproval.

  Carter had joined his older brother in their father’s study. He and Mrs. Warren had returned to Blake’s Run three days prior, and he had effectively
avoided her each of those excruciatingly long days. In fact, when he had received the missive from John Swenton, Carter had secretly celebrated having a legitimate excuse to depart. He required distance between him and the lady. “I am in the midst of several important investigations.”

  “And what of the attempts on Mrs. Warren’s life?” Law protested.

  “The earl can oversee the lady’s safety.”

  Law paced the open area. “I do not like this change of events, Carter. It is uncharacteristic of you to retreat. In fact, I have never known you to walk away from a challenge. What has changed between you and the lady?”

  Carter boldly asserted, “You misunderstood my relationship with Mrs. Warren. I have taken on her investigation as a favor to Thornhill.”

  His brother sat heavily. “Has the duke designs on the woman?”

  Carter shook his head in denial. “Thornhill only affects his duchess.” Even though Carter recognized the impossibility of Brantley Fowler holding an interest in Mrs. Warren, he had difficulty rebuking the idea.

  Serious displeasure crossed Law’s countenance. “I have observed the way you look upon the woman.”

  Carter fought not to squirm under his brother’s steady gaze. “And how do you suppose I look upon Mrs. Warren?”

  “As if you wish to swallow her whole.”

  Carter had not slept for four evenings, and his emotions had been wrung dry. His chest hitched as he sucked in a breath. He did not want to leave her. Even with their recent estrangement, he still enjoyed watching her move about a room–hearing the soft timbre of her voice as she spoke to those about her. He had thrived in her presence. When he had held Lucinda Warren in his arms, Carter had known hope. He wanted so much to know love–the same as his friends–but he feared he was not made to give his heart to anyone. “I admit I had thought to pursue a relationship.” He knew he must give Law a justifiable explanation or his brother would not relent. “Yet, in Manchester, when the earl discovered the lady and I had traveled unchaperoned, I did what any gentleman would do. I offered to declare my intentions.”