Why Earls Fall in Love

by Manda Collins

  “You are splitting hairs, my lord,” Georgina said tightly, and Con could see that she was growing frustrated. “It is my concern and no one else’s. And has absolutely no bearing on your aunt’s safety.”

  At last.

  “Then you admit that there was more to last night’s to-do than an imagined mouse?” he demanded, stopping and grasping her arm to pull her to a halt as well.

  She stopped, but wrenched her arm free. “Yes,” she hissed, keeping her voice low, though his cousins were long gone down the path. “Yes, something other than a mouse upset me last night, but I assure you that was all. A simple trick of the light. Nothing more.”

  He could see from her expression that whatever had happened frightened her more than she was willing to admit. “It worries you,” he said. It was a statement, not a question. He did not like to see a woman like this overset by anything. She was too strong for that. And it was a mark of just how dangerous whatever had disturbed her was, that it could cause her real fear. “Doesn’t it?” he prompted.

  Her expression softened under his gaze. “I am quite well,” she assured him. Then, laughing, she said, “It was nothing. Really, it’s amusing in the light of day.”

  Con clenched his jaw. There was something wrong here. He was sure of it. “I beg that you will tell me what it is so that I might share the joke,” he said, unwilling to let her continue without revealing her secret.

  Perhaps realizing that he did not intend to let the matter drop, Georgina’s shoulders fell and she spoke in a voice that was low enough to not be heard by his young cousins ahead of them. “It was the oddest thing, but through the window last night, I thought I saw my dead husband standing in the garden.” Her voice was strained as she said it, and when she made eye contact with him, he could see how hard she was trying to appear unflappable in the face of what must have been a highly disturbing moment. “There,” she said brightly, “is that not amusing? That I should have thought to see a ghost? It’s ridiculous.”

  He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t that.

  Wordlessly, he took her hand and tucked it into his arm.

  “What made you think it was your husband?” he asked after a few moments. “I mean, was it the man’s face or his clothing, or what?”

  He felt her exhale, as if she’d been holding her breath lest he didn’t believe her. “I suppose it was just the general look of him. Though if one were to be exact, this man was wearing a coat and boots and breeches, whereas my husband was normally in uniform. But this man had his height and build. And his hair looked to be the same light brown shade as Robert’s.”

  “So, it wasn’t your husband as you remembered him?” Con asked. “Not as if he’d walked straight out of your memories?”

  “Well, no,” Georgina said after a moment. “That’s odd, isn’t it? I mean, if I were going to imagine him there it would surely have been as I’d seen him, wouldn’t it? I could hardly remember him in a way I hadn’t seen him.”

  “The mind is quite good at tricking us into all manner of things,” Con said. “But, no, I don’t think you’d remember him in a way you’d never seen him. Of course, it might have been some stranger down there who you then imagined to be your husband since you’d been thinking of him moments before.”

  “But I wasn’t,” she protested. “I was thinking of … other things.”

  Interesting, he thought, tucking away that tidbit for later. “Whoever it was, he had no business loitering in my aunt’s back garden like that. I’ll go take a look at the spot when we return from our walk.”

  “Oh, do not go to any trouble,” Georgina said vehemently. “I do not wish to impose upon you with my foolish imaginings. It’s the reason I told no one what happened. Not only do I feel like a flibbertigibbet, but I also did not wish to worry anybody.”

  “Mrs. Mowbray,” he said firmly, “you are as far from being a flibbertigibbet as any lady I’ve ever met. And I really must insist upon checking out the scene for myself. If this man was indeed standing back there last night, then I need to know who he was and what he was doing back there. Not only for your sake but for my aunt’s as well.”

  He felt her deflate a bit beside him. “Oh, I suppose,” she said with a slight sigh of resignation. “Though I do hope you won’t tell anyone else. Your cousins and their wives already think I am out of place in your aunt’s house. Goodness knows what they will say if they hear I’ve been imagining my dead husband.”

  “You leave my cousins and their spouses to me,” Con said, grateful to have an excuse to speak to the others. He’d been none too pleased with the way they treated her last evening, and now he could tell them to leave her be with good reason.

  * * *

  By the time the party reached Farley Castle, with its crumbling walls and towers rising into the sky, it was lunchtime, and their walk having given them all an appetite, the party made short work of the baskets of food Lady Russell’s cook had made for them.

  “It really is lovely, isn’t it?” Lydia asked as she waited for her cousin James to finish peeling her apple. “I’ve never been very interested in old estates and the like, but even I can admit that the ivy growing over the gatehouse is quite picturesque.”

  Con, who had finished his lunch and taken up his charcoal and sketchbook, looked up from his work. “I am glad to hear you say it, Cousin, for I’d begun to fear there was nothing in that pretty head of yours but silliness.”

  “You needn’t tease, Con,” she responded with a frown. “Not all ladies can be as serious as Mrs. Mowbray.”

  Georgina had been packing their lunch things back into the basket they’d carried them in, but at Lydia’s words she looked up. “Oh, I am not so serious as all that,” she responded to the younger lady. “I simply do what I must to ensure that my behavior does not reflect poorly upon your aunt Russell.”

  Before Lydia could respond, Georgie saw Con exchange a look with James, who handed the peeled apple to Lydia and rose from the blanket they were seated upon. “Let’s go take a look at the tower, Lyd,” the younger man said, reaching a hand down to help her up. Georgie expected the girl to protest, but she allowed him to pull her up.

  “My aunt isn’t here now, Mrs. Mowbray,” Lydia said, tucking her arm into James’s and turning to walk with him in the direction of the far tower.

  “I hope you will not refine upon Lydia’s teasing, Mrs. Mowbray,” Philip said from the same blanket that Lydia and James had just abandoned. “She is still quite young.”

  Looking at the way the young man sprawled back on the picnic blanket, one ankle crossed over the other, at his ease in that way only young men could manage, she would have liked to ask young Mr. Callow whether he was Methuselah’s age, but bit her tongue before she could say the words. He was hardly to be blamed for his cousin’s words, or his youth. Remembering herself at that age, she was grateful to be past it. Aloud she said, “I daresay you are correct, Mr. Callow. I thank you for your concern.”

  Georgie had supposed that she was quite adept by now at dampening the pretensions of young men in search of affection from an older lady, but apparently she was not as skillful at the task as she thought. For Philip’s next words were to ask if she’d care to accompany him to view the intact tower ruins.

  “I have been assured by friends that they are quite sound, Mrs. Mowbray,” he told her, standing over her as she finished packing the basket. “There is no danger, I promise you.”

  Georgie was not unaware of her own appeal to the opposite sex. It was difficult to come of age surrounded by dozens of young men in search of dalliance without knowing that they liked the way she looked. But, since her return to England, she’d been careful to ensure that whatever allure she possessed was hidden beneath drab gowns and severe hairstyles. Such measures did not seem to work on Philip Callow, however.

  Perhaps he was the rare man who could see past her disguise.

  Then, noticing the way he glanced at his cousin Con, seated behind her
, she saw that whatever had prompted the young man to ask for her company had more to do with Con than with her. Interesting, she thought.

  “I should like that very much, Mr. Callow,” she said to Philip, accepting the hand he offered to assist her to rise from the blanket. “I have always been fascinated by ruins.”

  Not surprising her in the least, Georgie heard Con flip his sketchbook closed behind her. Turning, she saw him rising as well. “I’ll come along, Cousin,” he said to Philip, who was not so ill-mannered as to show his displeasure, but if Georgie wasn’t mistaken, was not best pleased by Con’s decision to come along.

  With a slight shrug, Philip tucked Georgie’s arm into his and led her across the open field toward the tower on the opposite side of the castle from the one that Lydia and James had set off for.

  “I suppose you’ve never seen something like this before, have you?” Philip asked her as they approached the ruin. “It is truly remarkable, isn’t it?”

  In fact, Georgie had seen any number of crumbling estates and towers in ruin as she crossed Europe with the army. Clearly Philip had no notion of what it meant to cross the continent on one’s feet. “It is remarkable,” she responded, ignoring the first part of his query. “I shall never become used to the sight of what must at one time have been a beloved family home falling into such disrepair.”

  “Oh, I daresay whoever lived here was well off enough to build another, better home,” the young man said dismissively. “It is the way of the world. One house crumbles, and you buy another.”

  Before he could expound further on his theory, the voice of Lydia intruded. “Philip!” she called. “Philip! You must come and see! It’s the most extraordinary tomb you’ve ever seen!”

  Soon Lydia and James appeared over the horizon and hurried their way. “They are perfectly carved in the shape of the dead person, Phil. It’s positively ghoulish! You must see it.”

  For a flash, Georgie caught a glimpse of what Philip as a little boy must have looked like. He appeared to debate within himself whether he should go with Lydia and James or continue whatever it was he wished to accomplish with Georgie.

  Thinking to spare him the inner conflict, she placed a hand on his arm. “Go and see,” she said firmly. “I will walk with Lord Coniston. And I’ve no wish to see any ancient burial sites. I’ve seen quite enough of death for one lifetime.”

  “If you are sure,” Philip said a bit guiltily. He spared a look back at Con, who stepped forward to take Georgie’s arm in his younger cousin’s stead.

  “So be it,” he said, patting Georgie on the arm as if she were a favorite spaniel. “Show me these tombs, then, Lyd.”

  “How fickle the young men are these days,” Georgie said with a shake of her head as she watched the trio disappear back over the hill.

  “You don’t really mean to tell me that you are disappointed,” Con said with a roll of his eyes. “I might not have years of war experiences behind me, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  Allowing him to lead her around toward the back of the tower where the doorway and the stairs were located, Georgie gave what was suspiciously like a snort. “Hardly,” she said with mock disgust. “I am not an ancient, but I believe I have the good sense to avoid entanglements with men as young as that.”

  “Aha,” Con said, feeling more satisfaction at her pronouncement than he should, “then you admit to entanglements with men!”

  “Well, I will hardly become involved with entanglements with women,” she said calmly. When he laughed she stopped. “What is so funny about that?” she demanded. “It is only the truth.”

  But Con knew that now was not the time to explain just how entanglements between women might work, so he patted her on the hand and nodded his agreement. “You are perfectly correct. Forgive me. I simply thought of something that amused me.”

  By now they’d reached the doorway leading into the tower. On the ground around the base of the tower, blocks of stone lay in varying positions, as if they’d fallen from the top and simply stayed where they’d landed for the last several hundred years.

  “Shall we ascend?” Con asked, gesturing for Georgie to go first. From his position he had a nice view of her backside as she climbed up the narrow staircase. But soon enough it became too dark to see anything, no matter how much he’d wished to.

  “It is so dark,” she said from above him, and he could hear her hands pressing against the stone walls to ensure that she followed the right path.

  “You’re doing very well,” Con said, resisting the urge to press against her body that was so close in front of him. Not so much for licentious reasons but because he wanted to ensure her safety. “Do not let go of the walls.”

  “I won’t,” she assured him. “Without it, I do not think I’d be able to follow the path.”

  Finally a small beam of light shone over their heads and Georgina heaved a sigh of relief. “Finally,” she said, “I was afraid we’d never find the top of this tower.”

  By the time they’d walked a few steps farther they were in full sun. Stepping up and onto the parapet of the tower, Georgie gasped. The view of the surrounding countryside, including Bath and the river Avon, was extraordinary.

  “Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Con asked, stepping up beside her. “It’s been years since I’ve been up here, but it is just as overwhelming as when I first made the climb.”

  “It is difficult to believe that it’s all real,” she said, raising her hand to shade her eyes from the glare of the sun. “Bath and all its buildings look like a child’s miniature set.”

  “I think so too,” Con said with a grin. “It is hard to believe that you cannot simply reach out and pick up Bath Abbey with your hand.”

  “I wonder if I can see Lydia and Philip and James,” Georgie said, stepping forward a bit to look over the edge and at the ground below.

  But instead of Con’s cousins, she saw something that made her blood chill. It couldn’t be him. It simply couldn’t.

  “What is it?” Con asked, stepping up beside her.

  How could the man be so bloody perceptive? Georgie wondered with a sigh. “Nothing, my lord. I just thought I saw someone I knew.”

  Immediately he stilled. “Your husband again?” he demanded.

  “I’m sure it isn’t him,” she said, not bothering to deny it this time. “It’s likely some stranger who looks like—”

  Con’s voice cut across her words. “Where is he, Georgina?” he asked, his tone brooking no foolishness.

  Knowing she had no choice, pointing, Georgie said, “There, over by the elm tree on the other side of the stables.”

  Silently, she watched as he shielded his own eyes from the sun and peered out across the open land at the stables which were some thousand yards from the tower.

  “I see him,” Con said, his voice sharp with anger. “I am going to go down. You stay here.”

  “Certainly not,” Georgie protested. “If this person is indeed my husband, then I have every right to confront him. If he isn’t, then I have the right to ask him why he is following me.”

  “I don’t have the time to argue with you,” Con said, giving up far more quickly than Georgie would have expected. “Just stay behind me and do not say anything to this fellow until I’ve spoken to him.”

  Georgie followed Con down the steps to the ground below. Once they reached the doorway, Con began to walk as quickly as he could, and Georgie had to run to keep up. When they reached the stables where they’d both seen the man who looked so much like Colonel Mowbray, they were both disappointed to find no one there.

  “Where did he go?” Georgie asked, gasping as she finally slowed her pace and stopped beside Con. “He was right here.”

  His walking stick clutched tightly in his hand, Con strode over every square inch of ground in the little area between the trees and the stable wall. “He is gone,” Con said on a muttered oath. “He must have realized you’d seen him.”

  “But how is that possible?” Georg
ie asked, feeling deflated and out of sorts now that their quarry had flown. “It isn’t as if I shouted when I saw him.”

  “No, of course not,” Con said, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He must have noticed us coming down to the ground below and suspected that you might wish to confront him. Whatever the reason, he is gone now.”

  Her knees suddenly going weak, Georgie collapsed onto a stone bench on the edge of the trees. Unable to keep up her pretense of nonchalance, she covered her face in her hands. “Why is he doing this to me?” she asked, her voice trembling. “This person must wish to frighten me. But why?”

  Lowering himself to sit beside her, Con took Georgie’s hand in his and squeezed it. “My aunt told me before I arrived that something was bothering you. Could this person who is following you be connected with that other matter somehow?”

  That must be his reason for watching her so closely last evening, Georgie thought with a sinking feeling. Her disappointment was absurd. Of course that was why. “Perhaps,” she said. “Though I cannot tell you. About the other matter, I mean.”

  “I’m afraid you must tell me, Georgina,” he said, calling her by her Christian name as if he had no concern for the proprieties. “I won’t have someone frightening you like this. No matter how strong and independent you think yourself to be.”

  “It isn’t that,” she protested. Though perhaps that was part of it. What bothered her more was that if she told him about the threatening notes, then she’d have to betray Perdita and Isabella as well. And that was the last thing she wished to do. “It isn’t my tale to tell.”

  “Do you think I am the sort of man who will go about town telling everyone I meet your secrets?”

  “Of course not,” she chided. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Then tell me,” he said, knitting his fingers through hers. “Let me protect you.”

  “I will consider telling you,” she said finally, unable to simply open up to him, but also unable to deny him outright.

  “I suppose I shall have to be content with that for now,” Con said, rising to his feet. “Let’s gather up the rest of our party and leave this place. The ruins are not as magical as they were when we first arrived.”