by Cheryl Holt
“Do I have a choice?”
“Of course you have a choice.”
“In what way?”
“Well, I can jump on my horse and hightail it to my old regiment to begin soldiering again.”
“Or…?”
“I could remain here. With you.”
“You’d…resign your commission? Is that what you’re offering?”
“Yes.”
“You’d stay at Greystone?”
“Yes.”
“You’d be a farmer?”
“Yes. What would you think of that?”
She was gaping again, the entire conversation leaving her off balance.
Could their union become a real marriage rather than a sham? If he didn’t trot off to the army, he’d be her husband in truth, on the premises and constantly underfoot. They’d have to work to be amiable, to be friends. A husband and wife needed a foundation to build a future. Their chance had been destroyed before a single brick had been cemented in place.
She tried to picture him as a country gentleman going through the motions of learning to farm, struggling with the dreary tedium that amounted to a rural existence. She couldn’t imagine it. In a fortnight, he’d be chafing and miserable.
Then again, he’d been grievously wounded and might have died. Perhaps he was weary of fighting and soldiering. Perhaps a dull life in the country sounded like Heaven.
“You’d be bored to tears, living here,” she said.
“So…you want me to depart?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m simply telling you it’s slow and monotonous, and there’s no excitement or stimulation. You’re Captain Harlow, the nation’s hero. There is no action or adventure at Greystone, no daring-do or wild escapades. The days blend together, and the serenity would drive you mad.”
“What if it didn’t? What if I was happier than I could ever remember being?”
“Are you staying at Greystone? Is that what we’re talking about?”
“I’ve resigned my commission, but whether I remain at the estate or not is up to you.”
“Up to me? Why would you think so? This seems like a decision you should make for yourself.”
“Yes, but you’re the one who will be most impacted by it. Is it all right that I’ve retired from my post? Or should I send a fast message to my commanding officer and retract my notification? Should I inform him I’ll keep soldiering on?”
She didn’t answer immediately. She was overcome by too many conflicting emotions. In the short time they’d been wed, he’d proved irresistible to her. She couldn’t deflect his easy charm, couldn’t ward off his charisma or flamboyant magnetism. If he stayed, she’d be drawn into his web without his exerting any effort at all.
She’d end up loving him again. She’d become sickly devoted. If he hurt her again, if he dabbled with mistresses or had affairs or sired bastard children, it would kill her. She was too kind-hearted, and she’d only ever wanted to fit in, to belong. If she glommed onto him, but it was another disaster, how would she survive it?
He’d been smiling at her, but when she didn’t reply to his last volley, his smile faltered.
“I guess I was wrong,” he murmured.
“About what?”
“About you, and I was hoping so much to…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence, and she pressed, “Tell me. What was it you were hoping?”
“I’d like us to start over. We wed so rapidly, and we really don’t know each other very well. I always assume I can forge ahead and fix matters to my liking, but sometimes I can’t. Sometimes it’s impossible.”
“What is Miss Bernard’s opinion? If you took up with me again, wouldn’t she be upset?”
Clarissa could have kicked herself. She was determined not to seem petty and juvenile, yet she posed the most immature query of all.
But he shrugged and chuckled. “It’s none of her business what I do. It never was, and I’ve split with her. I never intend to speak with her ever again. I’m very sorry that I shamed you when we were in London.”
“Thank you.”
She didn’t expect that he apologized very often, and she accepted the remark as being very sincere.
“I’ll just show myself out,” he mumbled, and he pushed himself to his feet. He wasn’t as agile as usual, his slow movements providing ample evidence that he was under the weather. “I’ll write my commanding officer as soon as I’m back at the Abbey. I’ll rescind my resignation.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I probably should. There’s no reason for me to linger at Greystone. I’ll remain for a few more weeks though. I’m not hale enough to return to duty right away.”
“Yes, you should rest—for as long as you need. You’ve had a bad experience.”
“And even though I’ll be at the Abbey, you don’t have to stay in the Dower House. In fact, I wish you wouldn’t. I’ll worry if you’re out here by yourself.”
“I brought several servants with me.”
“We could be cordial if we were together at the Abbey, couldn’t we? I promise not to bark or snap at you.”
“I’ll think about it. I’m not sure about anything anymore, and I have no idea how to decide what’s best.”
He sighed and walked out, and she sat very still, listening to him depart.
Her heart was pounding, and she felt like weeping with regret. Would she let him go without a fight? Would she let him flit off to the army? Would she force him back when, clearly, he wasn’t healthy?
Oh, what was wrong with her?
She’d always thought he was overly proud, but was she any different? He’d hurt her feelings. He’d wounded her tender sensibilities, but she wasn’t a toddler that needed coddling.
He’d put his mistress aside, and he’d traveled home to Clarissa, his bride, his wife. For the past ten days, she’d been moping over his chasing her away from Fox Run, but he simply hadn’t wanted her to watch the surgery. He’d wanted Rafe to help, Rafe who was a soldier and who had no doubt witnessed many medical emergencies.
She’d assumed the worst, had refused to consider why he’d sent her away. He’d been protecting her, yet she’d slinked off like a dog with its tail between its legs. She’d been pouting and sulking over her lot in life, when in all actuality her life was better than it had ever been. All the good changes that had happened were because of him. Because he’d picked her. Because he’d married her.
He could have chosen any woman in the kingdom, but he’d chosen her. As he’d mentioned, they hardly knew each other. Why had she believed each and every moment would be easy? Why had she expected there would be no bumps in the road as they started down it?
A slew of images raced through her mind. She recalled the heady period when their wedding had been approaching and that luscious interval immediately after. She’d been giddy with elation, with joy and bliss.
What if she could retrieve those emotions? He’d said he’d like to begin again. What if they did, and it was splendid the second time? What if it went exactly as it should and they lived happily ever after?
Just as he stepped into the foyer, she leapt up and whirled around.
“Matthew?”
“What, Clarissa?” He looked eager as a young boy.
“Why didn’t you send for me last night?”
He frowned. “Last night?”
“Yes. You came to Greystone in the afternoon, and I assumed you’d wish to meet with me at once. But you didn’t summon me to the Abbey, and I figured it meant you weren’t interested in meeting with me and didn’t care.”
“You ninny. Don’t I always tell you you’re a silly fool?”
“Yes.”
“My first priority was to get Angela off the property as quickly as possible, so you would never have to fret over her ever again.”
“I thank you for that. Over and over, I thank you.”
“Then, I quarreled
with Rafe, and I conferred with Miss Edwards and tried to talk some sense into her.” He pointed to the letter that was crumpled on the floor. “As you can see, my words had no effect.”
“No. Apparently it was futile.”
“After all that, I was exhausted. Have you noticed I’m not well?”
“Yes, I’ve noticed.”
“I lay down on a sofa to nap for a few minutes, after which I was going to march over and ask why you’re behaving like such a shrew.”
“Me! I’m not a shrew! I waited for you all night.”
“But I fell asleep, and when I awakened, it was after midnight. I didn’t suppose I should bumble in at that late hour.”
“So…you planned to speak with me?”
“Lord, save me from idiotic females.” He glanced heavenward as if in prayer. “Clarissa, come here. There’s something I have to say.”
When she’d initially stumbled on him in the parlor, he’d told her to come closer, and she’d refused. This time, she walked straight over. They stood toe to toe, his beautiful blue eyes glittering like diamonds.
“What is it?” she inquired.
“When Roland shot me, I was on my way to Greystone to apologize for every awful thing that happened in London.”
“I appreciate it very much.”
“And I intended to tell you this but didn’t have the chance.” He stunned her by dropping to a knee, and he clasped her hand. “I love you.”
“You…what?”
“I love you, and I’m so glad I married you.”
A whisper of joy bubbled to the surface. “You are? You’re still glad?”
“Yes. It’s what I meant to say to you. It’s why I was hurrying to your side. Once you left the city, I couldn’t bear it.” He kissed one palm, then the other. “Do you imagine we could start over? Could we try again?”
“Yes, of course we can try again.”
“Can you forgive me for London and Penelope and—”
“Ssh.” She rested a finger on his lips, silencing him. “Let’s don’t talk about it.”
“And can I stay at Greystone with you? Can I resign my commission and be your husband? I’m not very good at it yet, and I need the practice.”
He was so adept at charming her, and she smiled down at him, thinking he was the most handsome man, the most remarkable man. He was her heart’s desire, and he would be hers forevermore.
He’d wed her despite all her protests. Why had he? With how dour and dejected she’d been, she was lucky he’d insisted on keeping her. She wasn’t worth it, but she wouldn’t ever allow him to discover that fact.
“I agree with you,” she said. “You definitely should practice at being a husband, and I’ll tutor you at your lessons until you get it right.”
“I’m a fast learner.”
“Are you? I predict you’re too stubborn to learn.”
“I’m betting I figure it out without too much trouble.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will.” He grinned up at her. “Now then, will you help me to my feet?”
“Help you? You can’t stand on your own?”
“I’m a mess, Clarissa. You have to take care of me. If you say you won’t, I really and truly don’t know what will become of me.”
She liked to hear him confess that he needed her, that he’d admit it out loud. She liked that he would lean on her, that he would permit her to carry his load when he was laid low and not his usual strong self.
She slipped her arm into his and raised him up, holding tight until he’d gained his balance.
“I feel very sorry for you,” she said.
“Why?”
“I’m a horrid nurse.”
“You can kill me with kindness then.”
“I’ll certainly try.”
“Just don’t ever let me go.”
He was so amazing, and she’d been so stupid and petty. And blind. She’d forgotten how happy he made her, how glad she was to belong to him. Captain Harlow, the kingdom’s hero, but hers too. How could she have considered—for even a single second—that she didn’t want him, that she didn’t love him?
“I won’t ever let you go, Matthew. Not until I draw my very last breath.”
“And maybe not even then?”
“Maybe not even then.”
EPILOGUE(S)
Evangeline sat at her desk in the front parlor of Fox Run.
The annual estate party would start in a few hours, and she was enjoying a quiet interlude, attending to her correspondence before she jumped into the fray. The house was filled with guests, her husband, Aaron, loafing upstairs and too lazy to come down to breakfast.
Preparations were proceeding at a frenzied pace. There were long tables set in the garden, and Cook was in the kitchen frantically finishing the dishes that would feed so many people. Servants were hurrying in and out the rear of the mansion, their voices murmuring, calling out with questions or requests for instructions
It would be her first official act as the mistress of Fox Run. She’d worked very hard, and so had the servants. She hoped they would all make Aaron proud, and she thought they would.
She peered outside, and two riders were trotting up the drive. As they neared, she saw that it was Michael and Matthew. It was her brothers. Every time she reflected on the word brothers, she was overcome by such a surge of emotion she almost burst into tears.
Was there ever such a striking duo? If there was, she hadn’t crossed paths with them. Tall, dark, handsome. Buff, tough, fit. Arrogant, demanding, and regal. She could go on forever, listing descriptive terms.
When she recollected the tragedy they’d survived as toddlers, the lives they’d lived as boys and men, the futures they’d built for themselves, she was too amazed to speak.
They passed by the house and continued on to the stables, and they grinned and waved at her. She waved back. Her life was perfect now and would only get better, and she chuckled at the notion. Could a person’s life get better than perfect?
Well, Bryce could be home, their mother’s fate revealed. Radcliffe returned to them. All wrongs made right. She was an optimist, and she wouldn’t stop believing in miracles.
Gradually she detected the smell of roses, and she held herself very still. Whenever the scent of roses was in the air, it seemed as if her mother was hovering. It was probably nothing more than Evangeline’s active imagination, but why couldn’t it be Anne Blair? The possibility gave Evangeline such comfort.
Suddenly a hand was resting on her shoulder. The sensation was so real that, for a moment, she wondered if Aaron had tiptoed downstairs and sneaked in without her noticing. Yet last time she’d checked, Aaron wasn’t dressed.
Very slowly, she peeked around, and of course no one was there. But a male presence was so clearly evident. Was she feeling her father too? Why not? The room was alive with spirits, and she was happy to let them roam free.
She sifted through her pile of letters and picked up the one on the top. As she studied the handwriting, her pulse raced when she realized it was from Attorney Thumberton.
She’d retained him to help search for information about her parents. His clerks were scouring court documents and legal papers, trying to uncover details about her father’s death, about the inheritance at Radcliffe. They were hunting too, for information about her mother, about her trial and conviction, about her sentencing and transport to Australia.
Had Thumberton found something? Or was it simply an update on his clerks’ efforts?
She took a deep, calming breath, then flicked at the seal. She read what he’d penned, then flipped to the second page. It was a ship’s manifest of the convicts on board a ship named the Siren’s Song.
I direct your attention to Line Fourteen, Thumberton had written.
Evangeline stared down, and there it was: Anne Blair. Female. British. Age 28.
She was so shocked she was surprised she didn’t slide off her chair to the floor.
She leapt up t
o go find her brothers, and as she did the clouds shifted outside, the sky growing brighter. A beam of sunlight shone in the window. She glanced over and there—shimmering in the light—was her mother. Older. Serene. Sad. Peaceful. But still beautiful. Still stunning.
Her mother smiled a knowing smile, and Evangeline reached out to touch her, but she wasn’t actually there. Evangeline blinked—she didn’t mean to!—and just that fast, the apparition disappeared. The clouds shifted again, the golden rays fading away.
For a few minutes she dawdled, inhaling the smell of roses until it vanished completely. Then she grabbed Thumberton’s letter and rushed out into the garden. The twins were coming toward her, and when they saw her running, they halted and frowned.
“Sissy, what is it?” Matthew inquired.
“I’ve heard from Thumberton.”
“Has he upset you?” Michael asked. “If he has, I’ll ride to London and bash his teeth in.”
“No, no, it’s good news.” She was laughing, crying, and she shoved the paper at them.
“What is it?”
“Look at line fourteen. Read the name.”
The twins murmured it together. “Anne Blair.”
“We’ve located her,” Evangeline said. “We know the ship. We know the date.”
“I can’t believe it,” Michael said.
“Neither can I,” Evangeline agreed. “I was hoping we’d turn up some facts, but I’m not sure I’d truly convinced myself it was possible. And guess what else?”
Matthew chuckled. “There’s more than this?”
“Mother’s ghost was just in the front parlor.”
“Well, that’s nothing new,” Matthew scoffed. “She’s haunting this house.”
“Father was with her,” Evangeline said. “You don’t think I’m silly, do you? You don’t think I imagined it?”
“No,” her brothers replied in unison, and Michael added, “They’re watching over us. The air around me is constantly charged with odd energy.”
“It’s the same for me,” Matthew admitted. “At first I was rattled by it, but now I’m happy for it to be their ghosts.”
“I am too,” she said. “I’m so glad about it.”
She stepped in and slipped an arm through each of theirs, Michael on one side, Matthew on the other. They towered over her, and she felt safe and protected and so very, very lucky.