"Is that how you think of yourself?"
"That's how I was." My voice was dull.
"Hmm." He ran his thumb across his jaw and I stared into my own glass, trying to think of a way to excuse myself. "I suppose I was imagining you as more of a radiant spot of sunshine."
My fingers tightened around my goblet as a wave of sorrow crashed over me. His wish to know me as I was before reawakened my own longing to go back to that time, to erase the damage that Damian had inflicted.
"Am I wrong?" he asked.
I shook my head. "No, you're right. If you'll excuse me." I set down my wine and pulled the napkin from my lap. A footman appeared and drew my chair back. I smiled in thanks and left the room, only to have Edmund appear by my side.
He touched my elbow, making me stop. "Have I said something?"
I breathed deep and faced him. "Just reminded me of something I've lost."
He sucked in a breath and I could see him trying to think of a response. Instead he gestured toward the door to our right, urging me toward it.
We entered the drawing room. "I'm sorry that my honesty caused you more pain. But I want you to know that the reason I can imagine you that way is because I've seen glimpses of it in my interactions with you." He studied my face. "I can't fathom why my brother didn't cherish that radiance."
I smiled, grateful for the words, whether he meant them or not. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Princess." He took a step closer, his eyes falling to my mouth, and I stiffened. "I always wondered what it might be like to have a competent woman to rule beside me."
I forced a laugh, hoping to dispel any romantic thoughts he was having. "I've always known that I would not be a competent ruler. I was more than happy to leave that to one of my sisters."
A smile graced his lips, but his focus remained fixed on my own mouth. "I don't think you realize your own merits." He bent, obviously meaning to kiss me.
I turned my head and stepped away from him. "I should be going upstairs. Good day, Edmund."
"So, you only kiss men who are trying to take advantage of you?"
I stiffened at the bitter accusation. "I beg your pardon?"
"Sutton," he bit out.
I sucked in a breath. "I have no wish to discuss Mr. Sutton with you."
He threw up his hands. "Well, I'm afraid that as your closest male relative, I am obligated to protect you."
"I don't need protection from Mr. Sutton," I said through clenched teeth.
"How do you know? What do you know of his past? His character? Have you not wondered why a man of his position and social standing has not yet married?"
"I didn't realize there was a law against not being married."
"Why do you suppose he became so incensed when he discovered he was being followed about by a mere boy? Wouldn't it be prudent of you to discover what he's trying to hide before you throw yourself headlong into another disastrous relationship?"
His words sliced me open, and every insecurity, every vulnerable thought I'd battled since Damian's death came oozing out. I trusted James, cared for him, but I had cared for Damian as well.
My distress must have splashed across my face, because Edmund pointed at me, saying, "See. I knew it. You do have your doubts. As well you should."
I opened my mouth, wanting to stop him from talking, wanting to stave off this conversation. But he spoke first.
"Surely Damian spoke of our sister, Juliana?"
This line of questioning brought me up short. "Yes. Once or twice."
"He didn't like speaking of her. It pained him too much. It pained all of us because she died young, too young."
"What does that have to do with—"
"I'm getting to that," he said with surprising patience, his eyes bleak. "We spent our summers here every year. Three, sometimes four months out of the year, this was our home. As children, it gave us plenty of land to explore. My father was quite an exacting master when it came to our studies, but my mother insisted that we be allowed the chance to be children for a few months out of the year. All three of us grew up here, our land butting up to the Sutton fields. James and his older brother were our playmates. Over the years, an attachment formed between my sweet sister and James."
My heart constricted, but I swallowed my nerves, hoping that I could keep my emotions down.
"It started when they were young. Ten and twelve years old. They were the best of friends, quite inseparable. She would pout the entire journey home when our summer visit came to an end. But the summer that she was 15, things started to change. It wasn't just friendship anymore. I knew it. Damian knew it." An angry fire lit his eyes. "We warned our mother, told her that they shouldn't be allowed to romp about the countryside on their own. It wasn't appropriate. Mother just waved it off. She always was too indulgent where Juliana was concerned." His nostrils flared, disdain curling his lip. "At the end of the summer, it was the same old scene. James, the love-sick pup that he was, stood in the drive and waved at Juliana as we drove away. I was glad to be rid of him, glad to separate him from Juliana. He didn't deserve her. So imagine my surprise when he showed up at Winberg castle in early spring. Juliana made a spectacle of herself, flying down the stairs to meet him in the entry, dragging him off to show him something or other in the conservatory."
"And that was wrong?" I asked, honestly perplexed.
"She was an heiress of the Winberg duchy. He was not worthy of her."
"So all of the anger you hold against him is simply because you consider him below you?"
"No, not at all. Perhaps I did not think that he was her equal, but if his intentions had been sincere, if he had truly cared for her and kept her safe, then I would not have stood in their way." His eyes grew cold. "But he didn't keep her safe."
His statement sank in, and a knot of dread hardened in my chest. "She was hurt?"
He nodded. "Just before his family was set to depart, he and Juliana went for one of their rides." Disgust saturated his voice. "They were reckless, irresponsible." His jaw worked back and forth. "She was thrown. Sutton dragged her back to the palace, barely conscious, and then left with his family before he even knew if she would be well. He just...left." His eyes were incredulous, as if he still couldn't believe it. "She woke up asking for him, and we had to tell her that he was gone. I'd never seen such pain on my sister's face before. She felt abandoned and alone. Nothing we said made any difference. She only wanted him."
"Perhaps he had no choice," I suggested in a whisper.
He slammed the palm of his hand into the arm of a chair. "Then why did he never come back?" His eyes blazed, and I retreated a step. "The doctor said she was well enough, but her leg had been broken. She could not get about as she wished to. And when summer came, she was not able to travel. My mother sent my father and us boys on our way, determined that Damian and I have our usual summer getaway. We came back to this house, carrying a letter from Juliana. Her limited mobility and her need for James had thrown her into a melancholy, so she sent us with a letter, asking for him to make the trip to visit her."
Shame filled me as a spark of jealousy settled in my stomach. Poor Juliana was dead, and all I could think was that she had had James's affection before I ever did.
Edmund took a deep breath and continued. "Damian delivered Juliana's letter himself, but James never went. He just went about his summer, never acknowledging that his careless actions had prevented Juliana's coming, and never making an attempt to visit her." He threw his hands up, then let them drop in a sign of defeat. "Until then, despite my disapproval of their relationship, I had never suspected that James's feelings for my sister were anything other than genuine."
I stared in silence, knowing that I didn't want to know how this narrative would end.
"We returned home early at my mother's urging and found that Juliana had taken ill. Her leg wasn't healing right. She kept getting fevers." His voice caught and his eyes swam with tears. "When winter came on, an infection of the lungs weak
ened her further. She didn't live to see the next spring."
My breath caught, and I blinked back my own emotions. "I am desperately sorry for the loss of your sister. I can't imagine that pain. But why are you telling me this?"
"I thought you would want to know that your kindly neighbor had caused the death of a young girl."
I stared in silence, my cheeks wet with tears. There had to be an explanation. Edmund's emotion was real, but how much of his narrative was truth?
"If you don't wish to attach yourself to me, so be it, but I'd advise you to keep your eyes wide open where James Sutton is concerned." He stalked past me and quit the room.
I flinched when the door hit the wall as it was flung open.
***
"Princess?"
I lifted my head from my hands to see Falstone standing close enough that I should have heard his approach. I'd been berating myself for the past half hour for the way I was handling things, for the way I had allowed Edmund to integrate himself into my life so completely. "Yes?"
One hand tapped the side of his thigh, a nervous habit that rarely showed itself. "I wasn't going to mention it, but I think I have to."
I shook my head a bit, trying to focus on his words. "What are you speaking of?"
"Mr. Sutton had his reasons for hitting Lord Rockwell."
An odd subject indeed. "I know that. He'd had his privacy invaded. I know he was angry."
"That wasn't why he hit him."
I just stared in confusion, wondering what he was talking about and why he didn't just speak plainly.
"When you turned to take Johnny off to the kitchens, Lord Rockwell said something to Mr. Sutton...about you."
I let his revelation sink in. "I take it that whatever he said was not flattering." It shouldn't have hurt—I'd endured so much worse from Damian—but it did.
He shook his head, anger tightening the muscles in his jaw. He looked away, clearly wishing he didn't have to say more.
I sighed. "Just tell me what it was."
"I'm only telling you this because I've seen how Lord Rockwell is trying to sully Mr. Sutton's name. But when your back was turned, Lord Rockwell said to Mr. Sutton, 'I guess you'll have to leave that conquest to me.'" His nostrils flared like a bull's, and his voice shook. "And he said how much he'd enjoy it."
I turned my face away, unable to look at him any longer. I was mortified and disgusted, but more than anything I wanted Edmund gone. I was finished dealing with his dishonesty and manipulation. I should never have allowed myself to trust him, to trust anyone.
I was shocked at how quickly my anger turned into a deep sadness. "I miss my old life, Falstone. I miss believing in people. And I very much miss being able to trust a gentleman."
"Rockwell is a cur, but Mr. Sutton deserves your trust. He hit Rockwell because he was defending you. He respects you."
I nodded, acknowledging the truth of his words. Still, it was difficult to hold on to my confidence in James when he was not here, when he had disappeared without a word.
Chapter Twenty-One
FOR THE FIRST time since Edmund's arrival, I sought him out, finally ready to take control of my situation. I found him in the drawing room, writing what I assumed was a letter. "Lord Rockwell. Might I speak with you?"
He raised his head, a smile that was too much like a leer crossing his lips. He crossed to me, hands outstretched. "Of course, Highness. Come in, come in."
I avoided the arm he offered, instead choosing to maintain a chilled confidence. I passed him by and went to stand by the mantle, holding my head high.
"What can I do for you, dear Princess?" he asked.
"Firstly, I would like to thank you for the time you've taken to help me in staffing and maintaining the house. You've been most generous with your time and knowledge." As much as it irked me to speak such flattery, I wanted him gone with as little trouble as possible, and I believed that overt politeness would work in my favor. "This estate runs quite efficiently now, and I know that I would not have been able to accomplish such a task, and certainly not with the speed you were able to."
"No thanks are necessary. We've had our differences, but I only want to ensure your comfort and welfare. It's my duty to set things right."
"Your efforts are appreciated," I assured him. "However."
Uncertainty crept over his face.
"Now that the estate is fully staffed and functional, I believe it's time that I tried my hand at handling things on my own."
"You're doing an admirable job already."
"No, I'm not. You've been taking care of a good portion of the running of the manor and grounds. I need to be left on my own to take responsibility for the property."
He rocked back a step. "Are you asking me to leave?"
"I am."
"You are a widow. I can't leave you without protection."
"I have guards to watch over me and servants who see to my every need." I tried to keep my voice even and reassuring.
"It's not the same."
"The same as what?"
"As having a gentleman with status and connections."
"Perhaps not, but it must be done. You and I each have our own responsibilities that need to be attended to."
"I would not be at ease knowing that you were so solitary here."
"Mr. Sutton has offered to assist me if I need any help. I'm certain he will look out for me."
A blaze lit behind his eyes, and his nose flared. "And what will he want in return?"
"I beg your pardon?" How dare he suggest that—
"Will this be a business transaction? Both of you looking after the other?"
The way he said 'looking after' made it sound sordid and shameful.
I turned away from him, heading for the door. "You need to leave. Please go."
He stepped into my path. "Are you willing to sully your reputation for that puffed up—"
The crack of my hand making contact with his face silenced the room. "Get out." My words were quiet, humming with rage.
His chin and lips hardened as loathing filled his eyes. "You think you have the right to throw me out of a home that my family owns?"
"I inherited this house! I have my husband's will."
"Is that what Damian's trusty solicitor told you?" He smiled, and a chill swept through me.
"I want you to leave," I said with quiet force.
He took another calculating step closer. "Did you know that in the case of a husband and wife being married for less than a year, there is a very specific stipulation for a wife to inherit?"
"What are you speaking of?"
"I came here for many reasons, one of which was to see with my own eyes whether or not you would have the legal right to inherit this house, and I can say with a good deal of confidence that you do not."
"LEAVE!" I didn't want to hear any more. I didn't want to know that I had been fooling myself for the past three months, that I had lived up to my naive reputation.
"You're not with child," he stated with a sneer and a lengthy glance at my abdomen. "In order for you to inherit Damian's property after less than a full year of marriage, you must be carrying his child." He paused, likely to enjoy my look of embarrassment and shock. "I wonder what will happen to you when you are homeless."
"Guards!"
Falstone and Leo entered immediately, as if they had been waiting with a hand on the doorknob. "Princess?"
"Lord Rockwell is leaving. Please make sure he has all the help that he needs." I turned away from him, but he grabbed my arm, yanking me back.
"I'll have you thrown out!" he spat.
I shrank away from him as his face contorted into the same sneering rage I had seen time and again on Damian's face.
My guards dragged him away from me, propelling him toward the door.
I pulled my courage about me. "You can try, but you'd better bring a magistrate to carry it out." My voice was strong but gravelly as I held in my trepidation, my doubt.
He gr
owled as the guards pulled him from the room and down the hall.
Marcus came in and stood just inside the door, a quiet, confident sentinel. My legs shook, so I lowered myself to the chair, trying to calm my breathing and my heart. I wasn't having much success. "Marcus."
"Yes, Highness?"
"Where is Rogue?"
He stepped just outside the room, and I heard murmured voices for a few moments before he stepped back in.
I forced myself to inhale and exhale, but my body still trembled and my chest hurt. I heard the sound of paws clacking against the stone floor before Rogue trotted in. He jumped up onto my lap, squishing himself onto the chair with me. Normally I would have made him get down, but this time I didn't mind his weight on my lap or his paws that were likely damaging my dress. He whined and snuffled at my neck and face before resting his chin on my shoulder.
Was it true? Was my supposed claim to the life that Damian had built on top of me really contingent on my being with child? I closed my eyes, horribly grateful that I was not. I wanted children—I did—but not by Damian. I leaned my head back and stroked Rogue from head to back, again and again, until my heart slowed and the trembling stopped.
Rogue wouldn't leave my side for the rest of the day. We went up to my sitting room, and he lay on the couch beside me as I took tea and requested the company of Cecily and Emeline. Beatrice was busy orchestrating Edmund's removal from the new wing. There were several times that a shout or a crash would echo through the house, reminding me that I was not yet rid of him.
"He's not one to leave quietly, is he?" Cecily commented from her chair, where she sat mending aprons.
"He is more like his brother than I let myself believe." I jammed my needle through the cloth in my hand, wondering if I was going to ruin the happy grouping of flowers with my foul mood. Edmund hadn't been as hard-hearted or as violent as Damian, but he had the same domineering spirit. He had relented to many of my suggestions and allowed me to approve or disapprove of his decisions, but perhaps that was only because he didn't truly care about the little things. When it came to his removal from this house, I had hit upon the one thing that he was not willing to compromise on. Only then did his violent tendencies emerge. My arm carried bruises from where his fingers had dug into my flesh.
Saving Marilee Page 22