by Laura Landon
“My father calls me Evie.” She frowned. “It’s not very flattering, and it sounds quite childlike. But I like it when he calls me that.”
“It sounds like a special name between father and daughter. I prefer to call you Eve, however. If you don’t mind?”
“I would like that.”
He rose and extended his arm. “Would you care to return to the cottage? It’s getting late, and I never trust myself to be out-of-doors after late afternoon.”
She rose and took his arm. “Is that when your seizures mostly occur?”
He nodded. “Usually, yes.”
She didn’t take the first step back to the cottage, but paused to consider this revelation. “You mentioned once that you kept a record of each time you suffered from an attack. May I see it?”
“Of course. It’s in my study.”
They walked back and he kept the conversation going concerning what he remembered of the seizures. Eve wished she had her note pad handy to write down the details she considered important.
“I didn’t write down the exact time the attacks occurred, only an approximate time,” he said. “Such as, after dinner, or late afternoon, or early or late evening. Do you think that might be important?”
“I’m not sure. It will be interesting to see if there’s a pattern of sorts as to when the seizures occur. Have you been doing this long?”
“Almost from the day I arrived,” he answered.
“That will be most helpful.”
They walked in silence until they reached the cottage. Eve’s mind was too busy thinking what it might mean if there was a pattern to the seizures to think of much else. Lord Sheffield opened the door when they arrived and entered the foyer.
“You may wait for me here, Thomas,” she said. “I’ll be right out.”
Eve followed Gideon into the house, then down the hall to the left. He entered the study and walked to the bookcase that lined the far wall.
“I didn’t keep as detailed an account then as I do now. Only when the seizures occurred and how I felt before they started, then after I recovered.”
“That will be most helpful,” she said as she took two small folders tied with a brown cord. “Do you mind if I take them with me?”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
She smiled at him, then reached for one of his hands. “Don’t give up hope, Gideon,” she said, squeezing his fingers.
“How can I,” he answered, “with you working to help me?”
Their gazes locked for several moments, then he took a step toward her until they stood toe to toe.
He was going to kiss her, she was almost certain of it. And there was nothing she wanted more.
His gaze moved to her lips, then he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
Their kiss wasn’t filled with heat or passion, how could it be when Eve doubted Gideon was any more experienced than she was. But the touch of his mouth to hers was the tender mating of two people who were drawn to each other because of a situation not of their making.
He pressed his lips to hers as if accustoming himself to the experience. As if becoming acquainted with the feel of her pressed to him, as if learning the technique of something unfamiliar.
He ended their first kiss, hesitated, then lowered his head again. The second kiss lasted longer. And was more heated than the first.
Eve leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He deepened his kiss slightly, then lifted his mouth from hers and pressed his forehead against hers. “Thank you,” he whispered.
She cupped her palm to his cheek, then stepped away from him and walked to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nodded.
“Will you be all right?” she asked.
The confident smile on his face was answer enough.
. . .
Gideon rose early the next morning. He hadn’t been able to sleep much the night before. He sat at his desk with one of the estate ledgers open in front of him and tried to concentrate. But so far he hadn’t been able to write down one entry, or add up one column correctly. All he could think about was the kiss he and Eve had shared the day before.
That had been the most amazing—yet terrifying―experience of his life.
This wasn’t his first kiss. And yet it was. He’d kissed a pretty young upstairs maid once or twice when he was fifteen, then kissed the scullery maid when he was a little older. After all, what young lass didn’t want to say she’d kissed the heir to the Duke of Townsend? But none of the kisses had come close to the kiss with Eve.
Eve.
That’s how he thought of her now. Not Miss Cornwell. But Eve.
He told himself over and over that the kiss hadn’t meant anything. It was only a gesture of appreciation. He’d only kissed her because he liked her.
How could he not like someone as beautiful as she was? How could he not respect someone who spent as much time with him as she did? Who wasn’t afraid of him, who didn’t look at him as if he were some kind of freak? How could he not admire her? Or worship the very ground upon which she walked?
She held his future in her hands. She gave him hope for a normal life. For a life free of the seizures that had debilitated him since he’d been eight years old. But he could never let his feelings for her develop into something more. Which was why kissing her had been so foolish. Why he wished he could turn back the clock and take back his kiss.
Kissing her had been a mistake. A monumental mistake.
Gideon shoved his chair back from his desk and rose to his feet. He needed to go for another walk. He needed to work off some of the frustration building inside him. Although this would be his third walk today, maybe this one would dispel the unacceptable thoughts that kept intruding upon his work. The other two hadn’t helped. Maybe if he walked faster, or went farther it would help. But he doubted it.
He left his study, walked down the hallway and across the foyer. He pulled open the door, and stopped before he took his first step over the threshold.
Eve stood in front of him with her arm raised as if she were about to knock.
“Good morning, Gideon,” she said with a bright smile on her face. “Were you about to go out?”
Gideon stared at the face that had occupied every second of his sleepless night. He realized that being forthright and honest was the best course to follow. “Yes,” he said in a clipped tone. “I was about to go for a walk.”
“But Thomas told me as I approached that you had already been on two walks.”
“Uh,…yes. I have. But…”
“Would the reason for your frequent walks this morning have anything to do with the frown on your face?”
He paused. “Please, Miss Corn—” He stopped. “Eve. Please, come in.”
“I’d love to.”
She stepped into the foyer and Thomas followed. Gideon closed the door, then escorted Eve to his study. Thomas took his place outside the room, yet close enough he could hear her call if she needed him. Gideon closed the study door.
“I owe you an apology,” he said when she’d taken a seat on the floral settee in the center of the room.
“You do?” she asked.
He walked to the window which put him at a reasonable distance from her, then turned to face her. He braced his feet wide and locked his hands behind his back.
“Yes, I do.”
She lifted her head and looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “I hope you don’t intend to apologize for kissing me yesterday, Gideon. Because if you do, I will take great offense in it.”
“Why would you be offended?” He was surprised by her attitude. She should be offended that someone confined to an asylum for those with mental diseases had been so bold.
“I know I’m not experienced at kissing, but I did enjoy what we shared yesterday. Perhaps, with a little practice, I’ll get better.”
“You’re not experienced,” he said louder than he’d intended. He took a step towar
d her. “You think you need to get better?” He stared at her in open-mouthed surprise because he couldn’t believe what she’d just said. “I am the one who is inept. I’m the one who was clumsy in my attempt to kiss you. But even more than that, I shouldn’t have been so irresponsible.”
“May I ask why you consider a kiss between two consenting adults irresponsible?”
“Because of who I am.” Gideon couldn’t hold her gaze any longer. “Because of what I am.”
“I see,” she whispered. “I should have realized.”
Gideon returned his attention to the woman sitting in his study. There was something about her words that puzzled him. Something about the tone of her voice that caused him concern. “What do you see?” he asked when he saw the red circles on her cheeks. When he saw the look of embarrassment on her face.
“I shouldn’t have let myself forget that you are the heir to the Duke of Townsend, while I am the daughter of a country doctor.”
“Bloody hell, woman. Do you think who your father is makes any difference to me?”
She lifted her gaze and stared him in the eyes. “Of course it does. It’s who you are. You were born with an inordinate amount of expectation placed on your shoulders. There is much that is demanded of you, and providing the next heir to the dukedom is one of your responsibilities.”
“And who do you think would dare to marry a madman?” he asked bluntly.
Her eyes turned hostile. “You are not a madman. Do not ever say you are.”
“Then what would you said I am?”
“You are a perfectly sane man who suffers from a condition to which we haven’t yet found the cure. But we will. Of that I am certain. We simply have to find the cause of your attacks first. Then we will be able to treat them.”
Gideon couldn’t help but smile. “You are so good for me,” he said. “You offer such hope.”
“That’s because I want to find a cure for you so badly. You deserve to have back the life that was taken from you.”
Gideon took in his angel of mercy’s features. She was as special to look at as she was to talk to. As she was to be near. He felt his pent-up tension ease, and crossed the room to sit in a chair facing her. “If I know you,” he said glancing down at the papers in her lap, “you have gone through my notes and have a question or two.”
She smiled. “I have.”
“Then ask your first one,” he said.
She took out a clean sheet of paper and prepared to write. “You mention several people who have visited you since you came here. One of them is a man you name only as Henry. Who is he?”
“That would be Henry Willow. He’s the gardener at Townsend Hall.”
“Was he special to you?”
Gideon smiled. “Yes. Or, perhaps I was more special to him than he to me.”
“Why’s that?”
“The incident happened when I was just a lad.”
“Before or after your first seizure?”
Gideon had to think. “Before, I think. Yes, I’m sure it was before.”
“Go on.”
“Henry was a different fellow. It was rumored among the staff that he’d spent time in prison and most of the staff at Townsend gave Henry a wide berth.”
“But you didn’t?”
Gideon relaxed back into the chair and propped one ankle atop the opposite knee. “I remember the first time I saw Henry. I thought he was a giant. He’s well over six feet tall, and has arms as big as small tree trunks. He’s also the strongest man I’ve ever met.
“I was out playing one day when I came upon Henry in the wooded area that surrounded Townsend Hall. He was kneeling on the ground at the base of a large tree and bellowing swear words I’d never heard before. As a young lad I was in awe. He frightened me, yet I was curious to see what he was doing that had him so outraged. I snuck up on him as quietly as I could, and hid behind a tree. After a few moments when I thought I was safe, I peeked out from behind the tree and saw him tending a baby fox that had been caught in a trap.
“Henry didn’t allow traps set on Townsend land, a rule that Father agreed with. He was furious that someone had gone against the rule, no doubt for a larger animal, but a fox had become caught in the trap. Henry had opened the device with his bare hands, and was tending the wounded animal.”
“What happened?” Eve asked.
“Henry took a cloth out of his pocket and wrapped it around the fox’s bloody paw, then picked it up in his arms and stood. Without looking in my direction, he said, ‘I see you hiding there, lad. Did you set the trap that harmed this innocent animal?’
“I stepped out from behind the tree, but it took all my courage to face him. I answered that I hadn’t set the trap. Henry said, ‘It’s a good thing, lad, or I might have had to hurt you.’
“As you can imagine,” Gideon continued, “I was terrified.”
“What happened then?” she asked.
“Henry carried the small animal to his cottage to tend it. He told me that if I wanted, I could come with him and watch while he bandaged the fox’s paw.”
“Did you?”
Gideon nodded. “I didn’t want him to think I was afraid, even though I was. I was my father’s son, after all. How would it look if the Duke of Townsend’s heir was a coward?”
“Is that why he feels a bond toward you?”
Gideon shook his head. “That happened later. More than once Henry found a dead animal on the grounds. A squirrel once. A rabbit another time. At first Henry didn’t think too much about it. It’s not all that uncommon for animals to die in the forests. Then he found a dead cat. And another cat.
“Henry was livid. He knew someone from the Hall was responsible for what was happening.”
“How were they dying?” Eve asked.
“They were being poisoned.”
“What did he do?”
“He told Father.” Gideon sat up in his chair.
“Did he know who was responsible?”
“No, but I did. It was Cook’s son. I’d seen him setting traps, and when I could, I went behind him and sprang the traps before any animals got caught in them. I found some of the poisoned food he put out, but not all of it.”
“Did he know what you’d done?”
Gideon shook his head. “Not at first. His name was Clyve. Clyve Woodman. He was mean as a boy, and grew meaner as he aged. I was afraid to tell anyone at first, but when Henry found more and more dead cats, I had to tell someone. So I told Henry.”
“What did he do?”
“He told Father, and Father called the stable hands and the gardeners together.”
“Were you there?”
“Yes. I’d begged Father to let me come and he finally gave in. I wanted to see if Clyve admitted what he’d done.” Gideon paused, then continued. “Father explained what had happened and asked that the guilty party come forward. Of course no one did. But they knew who’d killed the animals. The way they shifted uncomfortably made it obvious they knew.”
“What happened then?”
“They all stood there. Silent. Finally Henry called out to Clyve Woodman. He asked Clyve if he was such a coward that he wouldn’t own up to what he’d done.”
“Did your father dismiss him then?”
“On the spot. He became violent. He told Henry he’d live to regret what he’d done, but Father said if anything happened to Henry, Father would send the authorities after him and they’d throw him in prison. Or worse.”
“Did anything happen after that?”
Gideon shook his head. “He isn’t allowed on Townsend land.”
“Does Clyve know you were the one who told Henry you’d seen him?”
“I don’t think so. If he did, nothing was ever said. Besides, that was the least of our worries.”
Eve lifted an eyebrow.
“Father and I were afraid that Cook would leave when her son was dismissed. We knew if she did, Father would never hear the end of it. Her Grace had brought Cook with her when she a
nd Father married. If Father even mentioned dismissing Cook’s son, Ernesta became terribly upset. She said she’d never find a cook as wonderful. And she was right. No one could prepare a meal that could come close to what Cook put on the table. And her desserts and pastries were the best of anywhere around.”
“Did the poisoning stop after that?”
Gideon nodded. “After Father dismissed Clyve, several of the men came up to Father and told him they knew what Clyve was doing, but were afraid to say anything.”
“Do you know if Cook ever sees her son?”
“I wouldn’t know. If she does, she goes to meet him. He isn’t allowed to step foot on Townsend land.”
“How old were you when this happened?”
Gideon had to think for a few moments. “Twelve, I believe. Nearly thirteen.”
Eve picked up her pen and made several notes on the paper in her lap. “How old did you say you were when you suffered your first seizure?”
“Eight.”
CHAPTER 7
Gideon walked through the small garden he’d planted earlier in the spring and pulled a few weeds that dared to sprout up among the beets and carrots. When the vegetable patch was clean, he stepped to the two flower beds at the front of the cottage that flanked either side of the walk. Lettie told him long ago that his mother had planted these flower beds.
When he pulled the last weed, he stepped back and looked over the beds of flowers. There was something special about tending the same flowerbeds that his mother had toiled in. He wondered which flowers had been his mother’s favorites. Which she’d picked most often to place inside her home. The home in which she’d spent the final two years of her life.
He wondered what it had been like for her. What she’d thought during the times when she was free of the seizures. If she had the same thoughts and fears that he had. If she had the same hope for an end to the attacks.
It had been more than three weeks since one of his episodes. More than three weeks without the excruciating pain and violent reaction. His father had been to see him twice during that time. Once just to visit. Another time for a different reason.
The first time they’d taken a walk through the park that surrounded Shadowdown and talked. His father talked about Gideon’s mother, and what it had been like for him, and for her, both before and after she came to live at Shadowdown.