Always Forever (Emerson Book 5)

by Maureen Driscoll

  “It was not for lack of trying, I assure you. It was hard enough prying the window out of its casement. Pushing that gargoyle off the roof strained my extremities. You could kiss them to make them feel better,” he added hopefully.

  “I think not. At least not until you finally succeed in your mission. All you have done so far is raise Bancroft’s suspicions, and probably Grayson’s, as well.”

  “But they’ll suspect each other, won’t they? That’s the brilliance of my plan. They will suspect each other and one will likely kill the other. I would say it was rather clever of me, wouldn’t you?”

  “I am not certain I have ever called a failure clever before. But if it persuades the two men to kill each other, then half our work will be done.”

  “Exactly!” said Canning.

  Mirabelle almost felt sorry for the simpleton. But then she thought better of it.

  “You had best go,” she said. “It would not do for someone to happen upon us here together.”

  “You said no one comes to this portion of the castle. I think we should have another go at it.”

  He looked so hopeful it would be cruel to turn him down, which is what made it so fun. “I am afraid our exertions have given me the headache. Do hurry along. We would not want to raise suspicions.”

  “I cannot wait for our next rendezvous,” he said in a horrific French accent, as he bowed over her hand. Mercifully, he then took himself off.

  Mirabelle watched him go with relief. Men could be so very tiresome. When she was once again a widow, she would be most selective regarding whom she shared a bed with. She would not marry again unless the man was richer than Bancroft and in failing health. Strictly speaking, she would not have to marry again at all, since she would have enough blunt to support her for the rest of her life. She still remembered the years of growing up not knowing where her next meal would come from – and the things she had to do to survive. She was far beyond that point now, but there was no such thing as rich enough. She would keep an open mind about marrying again.

  It was almost time to dress for dinner, so she set out for her chamber. She hated the old wing of the castle. It was dusty, filled with boring paintings of Bancroft ancestors she did not give a fig about and always dark. Today it was also cold and growing colder still as she made her way through the maze of hallways with only the light from her candelabra to guide her.

  She came to a dead end and did not know whether to turn left or right. She saw a light at the end of the hallway to the left, so she turned that way, mentally preparing an excuse for whomever she met.

  But as she grew closer to the light, she panicked. Bancroft was at the end of the hall. Did he know what had happened? Did that imbecile Canning give them away? He said nothing and he looked…odd. It was only when she walked closer that she realized it wasn’t Bancroft, but someone who looked a great deal like him. Except this must be an illusion, for he appeared to be floating. It appeared to be some sort of spectre. He was dressed in the clothes of a much earlier era, but was wearing the Duke of Bancroft’s signet ring. She would know that ring anywhere for she had wondered how to remove the diamonds and replace them with paste.

  She looked into the spectre’s eyes and for the first time in a long while knew cold, hard fear. The apparition before her seemed to have deadly intent. He glided toward her and she noticed that the hand with the signet ring now held a knife. Mirabelle backed away, but the ghost continued to follow. It was closing the gap when she turned and ran down the hall to the adjacent corridor. She could still feel the cold at her back, could still sense the foreboding which followed close behind. She was nearly at the entrance to the servants’ stairs when the door suddenly opened to reveal the spectre once again.

  Mirabelle screamed, fearing she would faint, when someone – a real, living breathing person – gripped her arms hard.

  “What is it?” asked her husband.

  “There was a thing, a spirit, a ghost!” she said, trying to break his hold so she could continue her flight.

  “You are in hysterics!” His voice was harsh, edged with anger.

  “You would be, too, if you had seen him!”

  “Seen whom?”

  “Are you going deaf? The ghost! He is right behind me!”

  Bancroft looked over her shoulder, even as she struggled to get away. “There is no one behind you.”

  “Let me go, you fool!”

  “Look behind you! I will not have a coward for a wife!”

  He forcibly turned her. She looked up to see an empty corridor. The ghost has vanished. “He was there,” she said. “He was chasing me. He had a knife.”

  “You are behaving like a child. It is most unbecoming behavior in a duchess.”

  “I know what I saw.”

  “I would not repeat the story. Unless you want to be delivered to Bedlam, that is. You would not be the first hysterical wife to be sent there.”

  Mirabelle took a deep breath and calmed herself. She would not put it past him to send her there, though probably not until she delivered his son. It was another reason why she would be better off when he was dead. “Forgive me, Bancroft. It must have been a trick of the light. If you will excuse me, I must dress for dinner.” Then she pulled away from him and exited through the entrance to the servants’ stairs.

  She would have to expedite her plans for his demise for she doubted she could play the obedient wife much longer.

  * * *

  Bancroft watched his wife disappear through the door, then turned back around. The Mad Duke was in front of him, still holding the dagger in the hand which wore the ring. It was the same ring which was now on Bancroft’s hand. The Mad Duke had simply worn it two centuries earlier.

  The first time Bancroft had seen the Mad Duke, he had just discovered he was being cuckolded by his first wife. It had enraged him, but not because he had loved her. Theirs had been a union of old families and large fortunes. But it had angered him to know some man was using what Bancroft owned. They were laughing at him. And that he could not tolerate.

  This time he should have known the risks of marrying such a young and attractive widow. But he had needed an heir in case he had to kill Grayson and had had little time to shop for the right wife.

  The ghost held up the hand with the knife in it. The meaning was clear. A Duke of Bancroft must always do what was necessary to ensure the line was pure. There could be no other way.

  Bancroft nodded, then disappeared through the door to the servants’ stairs. A plan would have to be made.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Win lay in her husband’s arms, exhausted and sated from making love. Of course, she spent much of her days and nights exhausted, but at least this time she had the pleasure of being closer to her beloved husband.

  “I fear we should not have relations while you are in such a delicate state,” said Alex, as he pulled her closer.

  “I do not know about you, but I cannot abstain from coming together with you for that long,” said Win, as she enjoyed the warmth of being so close to him. “Mayhap you do not enjoy our relations as much as I do.”

  She had to smile as he pulled back to look at her. “Make no mistake, my heart. It is impossible for you to enjoy them more than I. But I am worried about you and the babe.”

  “Jane Kellington said marital relations have no effect on the babe and actually help relax both the mother and the father.”

  “Love, I daresay I will not relax until the babe is delivered and three months old. Probably not even then. Do parents ever relax?”

  “I do not think good ones ever become complaisant. Look how worried I am about Rose and Nate. I feel terrible not being able to help them.”

  “Rose knows how much you love her. And she is just as worried about you as you are about her. I hope we hear back from Arthur and Vanessa soon, but in the meantime, I will show the duke that both Nate and Rose are well protected. Will that give you peace?”

  “Yes,” she said with a smile. She
kissed him to show her appreciation. Then kissed him again, slower this time, as her hands roamed his body.

  “Win, are you certain this is wise?” he asked, while offering no resistance whatsoever.

  “Very wise, my love. And you would not deny me this, would you? After all, I am the mother of your child.”

  “I cannot imagine denying you anything, although I am the one who will get the most out of this.”

  They kissed again, then there was no need for words.

  * * *

  “Colin,” said Ava, as she joined him at the window where he was looking out into the night. “Please come to bed.”

  “Forgive me,” he said, as he put his arm around her waist. “Am I keeping you awake?”

  “That is not my point. I am worried about them, too, you know. But I am also worried about you.”

  Colin laughed mirthlessly. “Do not worry about me. I always land on my feet. A penniless wastrel with no means to support myself? I somehow managed to wed the best wife imaginable.” He hugged Ava a bit closer. “My sister arrested for murder? A stranger steps in to save the day, sacrificing his own career in the meantime.”

  “You do not hear Alex complaining, do you?”

  “Hush, love. I am not yet done feeling sorry for myself. My brother comes home, after being cheated out of the land he bought after years of hard work. Could I help him? No. The best I could offer is a place to live while he manages the estate I would have made a mull out of running.”

  “James chose to give up his land so he could marry Irene. And they did not need to return to the estate. They could have gone anywhere, though Anna and Letty would have been heartbroken to part with each other.”

  “What about Letty? What future can I give her? What future can I give that wonderful daughter you carry or that mischievous son? Actually, our daughter will very likely be quite mischievous, as well.” He pulled Ava in front of him, so he could put both hands on her swelling abdomen.

  “Our children will be incredibly fortunate to have you as their father.”

  “Nick was ready to give up his title in order to spare me more difficulties. And now dear Rose sleeps under the same roof as a murderer. I have not helped any of them. I am at a loss on how to proceed.”

  “Oh, Colin,” said Ava, near tears. “I stand here safe and warm in your arms when you are the one who should be comforted. You are the best man I know. But you cannot do everything and you lead a family with very resourceful men and women. We all know you would give your life for any one of us. But sometimes, my dear, wonderful husband, you can only do your best then pray.”

  “I know you are right.”

  “A wife cannot hear that enough.”

  “If it ever happens again, I shall let you know, forthwith,” he said, as he kissed her neck.

  Ava turned in his arms, but she resisted his kiss for once. “I am in earnest, Colin. You use humor to deflect your worries.”

  “I do not do that,” he said, as he managed to kiss her neck, eliciting a shiver from her.

  She reached out to try to push him back just far enough to continue their conversation. “I must amend my earlier statement. You use humor and your skills in the bedchamber to deflect my attention. But I will not be dissuaded. Everyone depends on you, but you are not in this alone. We will each be the stronger for working as a whole. Stop taking everything onto your broad, strong shoulders. And come back to bed.”

  For a moment, it looked like Colin would make a jest, but then he slowly lowered his lips to hers with a gentle kiss. “Thank you for being the very best part of my life, love. I will always treasure you. And, yes, let us go back to bed.”

  * * *

  Kate lay draped over her husband, in their lovely bedchamber at the dower house.

  “I feel like there is some countessing I should be doing,” she said, as she slowly ran her hand over her husband’s chest.

  “I am not certain countessing is a word, dear heart.”

  “It is now,” she said.

  “Then I believe you have already done your most important countessing by making love with me,” said Nick as he kissed her.

  “I must say I much prefer this to menu planning. But I want to help Ava. We may be guests, but I do not wish to be of no use. And what can we do for Rose and Nate?”

  “You are not to do anything for Rose and Nate. Leave that to us men. It is much too dangerous.”

  “More dangerous than when you were set upon by brigands and I helped you to safety? Or when we were attacked on our wedding night?”

  “Dear heart, while I realize you have shown you are more than capable of taking care of both of us, I cannot allow you to take any more risks. They are not part of your countessing duties.”

  “Your family is my family. If I can help, I am bound to do so.”

  “You can assist the most by keeping yourself safe and helping here. Especially since Ava is expecting. Please, love, tell me you will obey me in this.”

  “I promise I will take no undue risks.”

  “That is not good enough.”

  “Yet, it will have to do. Now, can we repeat my countessing duty from earlier? Make love to me, Nick.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” he said as he rolled her onto her back.

  “While it gladdens me to think that is true, I hope it will not be solely your pleasure,” said Kate, though she knew her pleasure was always his priority.

  “Minx,” said Nick as he kissed her.

  * * *

  “I will sleep on the floor,” said Victor to his bewildered wife. “Or, if you’d like, I can sleep across the hall in the cook’s room. I can also pull up a chair and watch you sleep. Yes, that would be the best idea of all. I will watch you sleep and make sure all is well.”

  Maude looked at her beloved husband, whom she had just informed of his pending fatherhood. “Don’t be daft. I need you by my side.”

  “And I’ll never leave you. But I cannot possibly sleep in the same bed with you. There isn’t enough room.”

  “Of course there is. Especially when I’m nestled in beside you.”

  “But what if I roll over onto you during the night?” He got a look of horror on his face. “I was on you earlier tonight when we made love. What if I hurt the babe? I’ll never forgive myself. You should have stopped me. That’s why I should go away. I’m an oaf. I’ll do something wrong. I’ll…”

  Maude held out her hands. “Come back to bed, love. You did not hurt the babe. And you are already an excellent father. Please, Victor. Our bed is cold without you.”

  Because he could never refuse his wife anything, Victor got into bed, then held his wife as she nestled into him.

  “What’s wrong, Victor?”

  For a moment he did not speak. He could not speak. “What if….” He said quietly. “What if our babe is ashamed of me? Or, even worse, afraid of me because of my scars?” Because of his war wounds, he was severely scarred on the right side of his face and body.

  Now it was his wife’s turn to sit up and move away from him. Without thought he reached for her, but she held him at bay.

  “Do you think our babe will be a halfwit?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Do you think our babe will be a halfwit? Will he be unable to see his father’s love and kindness?”

  “This would not be our child’s fault.”

  “And it is not yours, either. The only person who’s at fault is them generals and governments who sent good men to war. I do not even notice your scars, love. Nor does anyone else who knows you.”

  “But I do not want our son or daughter to be ridiculed by other children for having a monster for a father.”

  There. He’d said it. Victor had been amazed that he could attract a beautiful wife, but secretly feared she would one day grow repulsed by his appearance. He wanted a child more than anything, but his heart would break if his son or daughter turned away.

  “Victor,” said Maude, as she returned to his side. �
��Your heart is what draws people to you. You are my handsome husband, just as you’ll be the papa all the other children will want to have. Just as I am the envy of other women. You are the greatest man it is my honor to know. Now make love to me once more. And do not ever speak such nonsense again.”

  As Victor Stemple gave in to his heart’s desire to make love to his wife, he realized he was the most fortunate man in the world. And his scars would never change that.

  * * *

  James was sitting by the fire, staring into the dying embers, as Irene sat on his lap. His arms came around her, as if anchoring him to safety. She did not say anything. She knew him well enough to know the words came slowly when he was most upset.

  She simply held him and waited.

  “I know I have not told you much about my time in America,” he said. “About the things I did to survive. They are not…pleasant. Sometimes I wonder if my misdeeds have resulted in difficulties for those I love.”

  “You wonder if God is punishing others for your supposed misdeeds?”

  “I hate to disillusion you, love, but there is no ‘supposed’ about it.”

  “First, I do not believe God works that way. There are many terrible events in the world but I do not believe He causes them. He helps us get through them, if we trust Him. And if God doesn’t cause them, I hardly think James Emerson does. You are strong, love, but not that powerful.”

  “You are trying to make me feel better.” He kissed her.

  “Yes. But it is also true. I have a question for you. Did you ever deliberately harm an innocent person?”

  “No. But that…”

  “Shhh. I know you are an honorable man.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I know you. I see what kind of a father you are. What kind of a husband.”