“Shh,” she hushed the distraught woman.
Christine walked past Mrs. Whitman into the nursery. The nurse strode ahead of her and into the bedroom. She rearranged the bedcovers. Outside, daylight pressed against the windows. Holding a finger to her lips, Christine left the bedroom. Behind her, Mrs. Whitman shut the door.
“I awakened when I heard a noise in the nursery,” the nurse said. “The countess was here. She didn’t see me. When I discovered the tyke gone—” she pressed a hand to her heart and Christine worried that the woman might collapse—“I did nae know the tyke was gone. I thought the worst…”
“Because Lady Erin’s grandmother was in here? Surely that is nothing that should frighten you.”
“It is just that seeing anyone in this nursery is unusual. Even Lady Sophia does not go into the child’s bedroom without asking me first.” Drawing in a deep breath, Mrs. Whitman straightened. “Where did you find the wee lass this time?”
“She was with her father.”
“I should not have panicked, mum. I apologize. You are correct. The countess is Lady Erin’s grandmother.”
Christine did not return to Erik’s chambers. Instead, she ran up to the tower, found that Annie was already awake and preparing her toilette. Christine washed and changed into a dove-gray morning gown. The chilly morning air made her move more quickly.
“We must do something about the temperature up here, Annie,” Christine said as the girl finished pinning up Christine’s hair.
She needed to appear regal this morning, but after an hour of preparations was on the verge of expressing impatience, when Annie announced she’d finished. Christine made her harried way down four flights of stairs. She found the countess sitting alone in the dining room, eating a poached egg and drinking tea. Her head lifted at Christine’s entry.
The chilly morning air outside contrasted with the warmth and smells of warm bread within the dining room. “My lady,” Christine said. “You are awake early this morning.”
The countess set down the serviette in her hands. “I thought I would see what it is like to awaken before afternoon tea. My son had no need of my help this morning, so I came in here. It has been a long time since I have eaten a meal at this table.”
Christine served herself at the breakfront and sat across from the countess. The chair where Erik usually sat remained empty. “Boris took him his meal,” the countess said.
What she did not say was that Erik wanted nothing to do with her.
A child’s laughter outside the doors drew the countess around. Lady Erin was awake and with her nurse. The countess rose and walked to the windows.
Christine didn’t know why she suddenly felt sorry for the countess. She was in this large room all alone, trying to be part of a family she did not know, and mother to a son who did not like her.
Christine thought of her own mother, dead and buried somewhere in Italy. Christine had always thought it was her fault that her mother left. That Christine had not been good enough or pretty enough or had misbehaved one too many times. All silly observations in hindsight, but to a little girl they had been real. Now she realized that sometimes mothers just left, and there was nothing Christine could have done differently. Having a child was no measure of a woman’s character.
After pouring a cup of tea, Christine walked to the window. Erin and Mrs. Whitman were leaving the gardens.
“She is the image of her beautiful mother,” the countess said. “I do not see any of Erik in her face.”
“I understand you went to the nursery this morning to see her.”
The countess returned to the table. “I wanted to see Erin before the household awakened. I would not have disturbed her sleep. If you must know, my son has given me orders that I am not to be alone with her. I am sure the only reason I have not been thrown out since he has awakened after the accident is because of you.” More than bitterness tainted her words. Pain filtered into her voice as it wavered slightly.
“Me?”
“My son seems to hold an unusual fascination for you,” Countess Sutherland said. “He has been on his best behavior. How would it look if he tossed me out for no apparent reason?”
“If he wanted to toss you out, you would be gone, my lady. I hold no sway over his actions.”
“You do not think so? Have you been here long enough to see the castle?” the countess inquired, stirring milk into her tea as she observed Christine. “All of his life, he has been a connoisseur of beautiful things. Becca said that after Elizabeth’s passing, he closed nearly every room in the castle and covered every piece of furniture. Now he is opening some of these rooms. Why is that, do you suppose?”
Christine suspected the countess knew exactly why Erik had closed off that part of his life, as if by hiding it away, he could hide himself from his feelings. She had taken note that some of the coverings had begun to come off the furnishings. “Perhaps he chooses to no longer blame himself for her disappearance.”
“One cannot deny the effect you have on him. Whether he has found something new with which to indulge his passions, or if he is running away from the old indulgences and you are as far away as he could run, does not matter to me.”
The barb hurt, and Christine did not entirely understand it, before she realized the arrow had not been aimed at her heart as much as it was aimed at her son’s. “You do not like him very much, do you?”
“I cannot be faulted for loving my daughter more, if that is what you mean, when my son has done everything in his power to push me away. My daughter needs me. My son never did. I need to feel important, you see. I cannot bear the thought of growing old alone.”
“Maybe if you were not so self-involved, you would see that it isn’t about your needs at all.”
The countess set down her cup. “When is anything we say or do not about our needs? We are all selfish in our way. You cannot tell me you married my son on the pretext of some great affection for him. You have not known each other that long. Yet you wed him. So do not speak to me of selfish needs. Has he told you that Erin is not his?”
Shock stilled her breath. “I don’t believe it,” she whispered.
“Then ask him yourself. He married Lady Elizabeth anyway, knowing that the child was probably not his. I tried to warn him the chit was not for him, but he gets his mind and heart set on a thing…He’s about to take on the Lord Advocate himself over the issue concerning your marriage. But once Lady Elizabeth fails to materialize this time, Lord Eyre will bring charges of murder down on him. He’ll do whatever it takes to get his granddaughter. He’ll bring up Erin’s parentage. A scandal will ensue. Erik claims that he does not care what people say about him, but he will care what they say about Erin. He’ll care when she is shunned by polite society, as Becca already is. Why do you think he has not allowed her to have a Season?”
Christine did not reply at first. Not because she didn’t know what to say, but because she knew exactly what had to be said.
“You are saying I should leave here and spare him. Do the honorable thing to protect everyone?”
“I am saying that my son is fighting a losing battle. Yes, perhaps there is honor in such a decision. You would not be thinking of yourself.”
“Then I should inform you that you have erroneously attached some form of nobility to my character if you think I will bow out. Doing so would not save him and his family the embarrassment that will ensue when he legally challenges the Lord Advocate’s judicial involvement in something over which the man should not have held any sway.”
Christine moved to the table and set down her teacup. “You see, I am also one of those who feel the Lord Advocate should be removed from power, as he has clearly proven he is prejudiced by his relationship to his brother, Lord Eyre, and prone to bribery. He has no business being in any position of judicial authority since he cannot perform his duties.”
Blanching, the countess came slowly to her feet. But Christine was not finished. “Or do you think I should go t
o my husband and beg him to allow Lord Eyre near Lady Erin? If Eyre is such a vindictive man as you claim him to be and would threaten to humiliate his own granddaughter because of his war with Erik…” Christine could hardly say the words. “I would not even allow the man near the child.”
“Then I misspoke. Lord Eyre in not vindictive. He is desperate.”
“I spoke to Lord John Maxwell last week and he knew all about what I have been doing at the cliffs. Becca is the only person who knew I was looking for the Sedgwick beast. Did she tell you? And did you then tell him?”
“Our families are not strangers,” the countess whispered. “Lord Eyre has been more Erik’s father than ever any man alive. What has happened is not all Lord Eyre’s fault.”
“Pah!” Christine brandished her hand dismissively at such drivel as if she were channeling Aunt Sophie. “Where were the both of you when he needed you most? Where was anyone? Do not talk to me about being alone now. As my Aunt Sophie would say, ‘You reap what you sow.’”
Tears of fury welled in the countess’s blue eyes. Eyes very much the same shape and color as Erin’s. “You cannot talk to me in this manner, young lady,” the countess said. “You…you aren’t even my daughter-in-law anymore.”
“Then no one can accuse me of being disrespectful to a family member.” Christine took a step nearer. “And before you say anything else to malign Lady Erin’s parentage, I suggest you take a closer look at the child. You may not see Erik in his daughter’s face, but you will see some of yourself. Look at her again and tell me that you believe she is not your granddaughter in blood and in name. Then try telling yourself Erik is not her father.”
Christine had said enough. Aunt Sophie always told her to leave an audience wanting more and if you could not do that, then leave them shocked. Her only regret as she swept out of the dining room through the glass French doors was that she could not slam them in her exit.
Erik did not move from his place beneath the trees as he watched Christine disappear around a bend in the path. He felt something stab low in his chest. Something that had nothing to do with lust, but with longing of a different kind.
Something that should have been unpleasant to him, yet wasn’t. His senses followed the soft pad of her angry steps on the sand-and-crushed-brick pathway until he could no longer hear her footfalls. He turned his attention to the open French doors leading into the dining room. His mother stood just outside, on the terrace. It took him a moment to realize she had not yet seen him.
He did not make it a habit to eavesdrop, but he had heard their voices, and so he had stopped in the gardens, leaning on his crutches because his leg throbbed abominally. Then he had remained and listened.
Maybe he’d been used to having his way for too long in this life. These past months had certainly been a reminder that his future was as fragile as his past. What he couldn’t remember was the last time anyone had ever waged a battle on his behalf.
He stumbled three steps to the tree trunk, set his palm against the rough bark, and stared off at the distant crags steeped in mist, wondering how many hours he’d stood in this exact spot contemplating the choices he’d made in his life, contemplating his incapacity for compassion and forgiveness, and the realization that he had no idea how to truly love.
Yet even for all of that, the world suddenly seemed less bleak than it had just five minutes before—even when he returned his attention to discover his mother standing at the edge of the terrace where the garden began, he did not feel his mood or temper darken.
She delicately tapped a finger to each corner of her eyes. “I suppose you heard everything?”
“I heard enough.”
And he was ready to be rid of her presence from his life forever as he awaited her excuses or some derogatory comment about Christine’s character. But her understanding of the situation showed with vivid clarity in her blue eyes. She had but to utter one harsh word…
“She was right,” his mother suddenly said. “Everything she said was the truth. I deserve to be thrown out of here. I deserved it before.”
“Bloody hell yes, you deserved it.” Hadn’t he told her once before if she ever spoke to a soul about Erin that he would sever his ties with her?
He leaned his weight on the crutch and stumbled again, and she was suddenly beside him, propping her shoulder beneath his. “Why is it you insist on trying to kill yourself?” she snapped. “You have never been considerate of those who worry about you.”
“Aye, Mother,” he laughed with masculine scorn. “It has always been my intent to hurt you by maiming myself, as I am happiest lying in bed suffering.”
“Oh Erik.” At her behest, he sat on the old stone wall and took the pressure off his injured limb. “No matter what I say, I seem to mangle the sentiment. Believe it as you will, I meant only that I worry about you.”
“And here I thought ye cared only for yourself,” he said.
“It is not so much that I care about myself. It is that I have found it easier to blame everyone else for what is wrong in my life. You might be surprised to know I have not unpacked and had intended to be gone before you were on your feet. I told Becca this before she brought me here.”
“How long have you been in contact with Maxwell?”
She crossed her arms. Her sleeves billowed over her wrists and she brushed at the lace. “When have I not been in contact with the old curmudgeon? We have been family friends since you were in short pants. Who do you think has been keeping me apprised of the events here? I was living at his boat house on the lake until we had a disagreement about you. You might be surprised to know I have since moved into a cottage near the hamlet.”
“You? Living in a cottage without an entourage of servants? I gave you enough money to purchase your own estate should you want one.”
“I did not take the funds you gave me. I would have gambled them all away. Nor have I had a single drink since that day you came to see me in London. I came to Scotland to be near you and Becca. Though I will admit I had not believed I would be offered the chance to be near you.”
“Then the recent slate of events has worked in your favor.”
“Only because I had unfettered access to you for an entire two days. I have not had that much time with you since you were practically stolen from my arms and brought here as the new duke of Sedgwick.”
Erik knew that his mother had barely been a widow of two months when that event had occurred. She’d been eighteen with no family support upon which to draw who did not want a piece of the Sedgwick name and fortune. A part of him even understood how she would have involved herself with a man like Becca’s father, this estate’s former administrator and the man who had held legal guardianship over Erik. Erik had literally been taken from her.
Women did not possess the same power as men when it came to controlling their future—even an independent woman like Christine. The proof lay in the fact that she had married him for the reasons she had. None that had to do with love.
His mother started to turn away and Erik took her arm. She startled at his touch. When was the last time they had touched?
He lifted his gaze and looked into the face of a woman he had barely allowed himself to know and, as he and his mother faced one another, a new kind of silence fell between them.
Perhaps for the first time in his life, he looked at his mother with emotions no longer weighted by the baggage they both carried from their pasts, his lightened considerably by Christine’s presence in his life.
Maybe almost dying had softened him.
Maybe falling in love—deeply in love, something he had never felt with this kind of intensity—had given him a new perspective on his other relationships, made him take stock of his faults. The man staring back at him from the mirror of his soul was not one he particularly liked. Certainly he was not one Erik welcomed any longer. How many wars in his life would have been averted had he just made some conciliatory move first? What would happen if he did so now?
; He still did not trust his mother with an open invitation into his life, but neither would he send her packing and on her way from Sedgwick as he had done so many years before.
“Do you want to remain for a few weeks?” he asked. “I do not expect you to stay the winter…” Small increments, he told himself. “But a summer’s visit—”
“Oh, Erik, I truly do. A few weeks would be wonderful.”
Again, he told himself he could do this. He needed to do this. “I will send someone to the cottage and retrieve the rest of your belongings.”
Erin’s distant laughter suddenly signaled his daughter’s approach up the garden path. She and Mrs. Whitman were returning from their morning constitutional. Beside him, his mother stilled. He could almost feel her panic.
“Have you spoken to her since your arrival?” he asked.
“She doesn’t know me, Erik.”
“Come.” He pushed himself up on the crutch. “It is time to meet your granddaughter then.”
An hour later, Erik left his mother with Erin and Mrs. Whitman outside in the garden, painting portraits of butterflies. He’d slipped away without either noticing, and stopped at the French doors in the dining room as he looked back at them.
“This arrived by special courier.” The butler gave Erik a letter.
Without looking at the front, Erik turned the letter over in his hand and flipped open the seal. The note was from Joseph Darlington and addressed to Christine. He hadn’t paid attention to the name on the missive when he’d turned it over. He tapped the letter impatiently against his palm. “It seems guests will be arriving tomorrow.”
Chapter 20
Christine’s voice touched Erik first, a moment before she and Joseph Darlington entered the stable, where he’d gone shortly after breakfast. Sitting on a three-legged stool in the stall that housed Christine’s mare, he stilled the pick in his hand. He lowered the horse’s front hoof and rose to his feet.
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