“You’re at Crawford House, the Earl of Adair’s holding in Northamptonshire.”
Grace had no idea who that was, but the title of earl brought to mind an old, dignified man. Though she searched her memory, she didn’t remember meeting him nor could she think of how she and Matthew had arrived there. Her mind was completely blank. They’d been walking to the vicar’s. That much she remembered, along with the foul weather. The rest was all a blur, a muddle of memories that made little sense.
“May I see my son?”
“Of course. He’s been to visit you several times.”
Alarm filled her. “How long have I been here?”
“This is the third day.”
The swell of panic that rolled through her brought on another bout of coughing. She couldn’t stop it any more than she could halt the worry that filled her. Matthew must be terribly distraught. They should’ve been in London by now. She could only hope Charles hadn’t learned of their whereabouts. Had their host discovered their identity and sent word to him? Oh, how she hoped not.
“May I give you some medicine for your cough?” the maid asked.
“After I see Matthew.” Grace warily eyed the brown-tinted bottle on the bedside table. Most cough medicines contained laudanum, which would make certain she slept. While rest might aid her recovery, she couldn’t do so peacefully until she’d seen her son and ensured he was well.
“I’ll return directly.” The maid rose and hurried from the room.
Grace closed her eyes, swallowing hard to keep the hopeless feeling at bay. Nothing had gone right since they’d left home. First the theft of their luggage and much of their money, then her illness, the weather, and now this. She couldn’t help but press a hand to her side, amazed at how sore she was, throbbing with every movement.
The memory of a coach and horses rumbling toward her in the dark flashed in her mind.
Dear heavens. Had she been struck by the coach?
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
“Come—” She had to stop and clear her throat. “Come in.” Her voice was so raspy that she wasn’t certain whoever was at the door had heard her.
The sight of her son’s face chased away all her worries.
“Mama!” Matthew’s smile lit her heart as he ran toward her.
Her relief knew no bounds as she opened her arms for him. He scrambled up onto the bed and into her embrace. She did her best to hide her discomfort, grateful he was on her uninjured side. “Darling, I am so happy to see you.”
He drew back to frown at her. “You sound like a frog. Are you still ill?”
“I promise I will be better before you know it.” She gave him another hug, pleased to see him looking so well. “How are you faring?”
“Very well. I like it here. Crawford House is big. The cook bakes wonderful biscuits that are this big.” He held his fingers into a large circle. “She let me help yesterday.”
“Truly?” Noting the maid waiting near the door, she whispered to him, “And what of the earl? Is he nice?”
The sound of a distinctly male throat clearing had her looking at the doorway again. Broad shoulders in a black suit coat filled the space, the maid suddenly nowhere in sight.
All thoughts of an old, distinguished lord flew out the window. This tall, handsome, virile man who slowly approached stole her breath with his dark good looks. His grey eyes held shadows in their depths, reminding her of a stormy sea.
A cold, stormy sea.
“Good day,” he said, acting as though he hadn’t heard her question. “I hope you don’t mind my stopping in to see how you’re feeling.” His deep, gruff voice sent shivers coursing down her back.
Suddenly, images of this same man bending over her in the rain filled her mind. He’d smelled of pine and the sea and had cradled her against his chest ever so gently. Yet his cool reserve had her wondering if that had been a dream.
Matthew bounded off the bed to grab the man’s hand and pull him forward. “Mama, this is Adair.”
Grace felt her cheeks heat as her enthusiastic son tugged the reluctant man closer. Never mind that she wasn’t properly attired, that she was in bed, that she must look like coddled eggs warmed twice over.
The Earl of Adair moved forward with sinuous grace despite Matthew’s claim on his hand. He exuded confidence, his mere presence commanding respect. Perhaps it was the way he held himself with perfect posture or the tilt of his head. But what truly caught her was the reserve in his expression, as though he found life something to be watched from a distance rather than embraced. There was a crevasse between him and the rest of the world, and she’d bet her last coin he preferred it that way.
Black hair swept across his forehead with the back brushing his collar. High cheekbones were balanced by a slash of dark brows. His lips were perfectly straight as if he deliberately chose to neither smile nor frown.
“It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I’ve yet to learn your name.” His deep voice rumbled through her, lodging somewhere in her throat, which caused her to cough again. Her side ached terribly when she did.
Matthew released the earl’s hand to climb onto the bed again. He knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “There, there. Would you like some water?”
She nodded and took a sip from the glass he handed her to calm both her cough and her wayward thoughts. “Your hospitality is much appreciated.”
“I hope you’re comfortable and beginning to recover?”
“Yes, I am. Thank you.”
“Is there someone I might notify of your location?”
“No need to trouble yourself.” She glanced at Matthew. Had he kept their secret? She’d told him how important it was not to tell anyone their name, though she couldn’t blame him if he did after her sleeping for so long.
“It’s no problem.” Those eyes assessed her, but she had no idea to what conclusion he came. “It’s the least I can do.”
She hesitated, hating to ask more of this stranger. But the fewer people who knew where they were, the better. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue to say what she wanted, something she was unfamiliar with doing. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
He frowned, obviously displeased.
“It would be my preference that no one knows of our whereabouts.” She glanced at Matthew, reminding herself of what was at risk. But would the earl honor her wish? Or was she too late?
“No one has been notified.”
Relief, both sweet and light, filled her. “Thank you.”
“As you wish.”
The earl’s puzzled expression made her want to explain, but she pursed her lips before she could. This man was a stranger. She had no idea if she could trust him.
“Matthew has kept me entertained. He’s quite the young man.”
Grace studied the earl from beneath her lashes, uncertain what to say. Her head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton, and she simply couldn’t think straight. Surely her illness was the cause, rather than his presence.
“I am terribly sorry we are imposing on you like this,” she began.
“No, it is I who must apologize. My coach struck you.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, making her wonder at the cause. “Unfortunately, we were traveling too quickly for the conditions and didn’t see you in the rain.”
The lines of his face sharpened, and she had no doubt how badly he felt about the accident.
“I-I should’ve known how difficult it would be to see me standing there.” Grace realized she’d been able to spot the coach because of its lights, but that hadn’t meant the driver could see her. “Between the waning light and the rain—”
“The blame lies squarely with me, my lady.” His lips tightened even more.
She glanced at Matthew, surprised at how comfortable he felt with the earl. “We appreciate you taking us in.”
“Anything to aid your recovery. Are you comfortable?” He looked about as though prepared to adjust her pillow
if needed. The idea of him drawing nearer sent heat into her cheeks.
“Quite. Thank you.” A wave of exhaustion tugged at her, reminding her how weak she was.
“Young Matthew and I intended to stroll in the garden after visiting you.”
Grace hardly knew what to say. It was kind of him to entertain her son when he could have easily left him with the servants.
“It finally stopped raining, so we’re going exploring,” Matthew announced. “Adair has a maze.” He frowned at her. “I suppose you need to rest some more before you can come with us.”
“I suppose so.” His thoughtfulness warmed her heart.
The maid who’d been with her earlier entered the room with a tray with several covered dishes on it. She curtsied at the earl then moved around the side of the bed.
“You must be famished.” The earl nodded toward the tray. “Cook has sent up some broth and a few other dishes to entice you to eat and regain your strength.”
The idea of eating was daunting when she could hardly keep her eyes open.
To her surprise, Adair held out his hand to Matthew. “Shall we do our exploring and return to visit with your mother again afterward?”
“Yes, please.” Matthew took his hand only to pause and glance at Grace. “You don’t mind, do you, Mama? I am most anxious to see the maze.”
“Of course not. I’ll have a nice rest while you’re gone.” She swallowed hard, finding the idea of Matthew leaving with a stranger difficult, no matter if he was their rescuer.
“Have no worries regarding Matthew. We’ll take good care of him while you’re recovering.” Those grey eyes held hers, his expression unreadable.
Did he never smile?
“Thank you.” Grace watched as the pair strode out of the room. She couldn’t remember Daniel ever taking Matthew somewhere on his own, even if was only to the garden. In all honesty, she wasn’t certain how to feel about it. Not after the past two months with Charles. Naiveté was a trait she was training herself out of.
She no longer gave her trust easily, no matter how much she was tempted to by stormy eyes.
Chapter Three
“Under a penalty of twenty shillings a month for every case of default, the parochial authorities were bound to provide work for the able-bodied.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Tristan drew a relieved breath as he closed the door behind Matthew and him. He’d never been so tongue-tied in his life. He had no idea what made him feel quite so inept around the lady. After all, he’d been around his share of women, including his fiancé.
Was that the problem? That he was now engaged?
No, he was certain it had more to do with the woman herself. She was lovely. He shook his head, realizing at once that lovely was an understatement. She appeared to be one of those rare souls who was beautiful inside and out. Why he believed that on such a short acquaintance, he didn’t know. She’d only just awakened.
Yet there was a gentleness in her spirit that was undeniable. Perhaps that quality was what put him on guard—the idea that he could crush her if he wasn’t careful. Which was the reason he’d offered for Samantha. Her strong personality allowed him to release any concern that he might inadvertently offend her or hurt her feelings. And heaven knew he would. Despite his efforts to control his temper, he managed to do so with everyone he encountered whether they were family, friends, servants, or strangers.
While he’d thought a woman like Samantha the perfect solution for which he’d been searching, as she allowed him to marry and beget an heir without worrying about their relationship, he’d been filled with regret since he’d asked her.
Regret that what had seemed like an ideal marriage would be anything but. That he’d made a terrible choice. He’d brushed aside his worries, thinking it must be normal to ponder over such a momentous decision. After all, marriage was a lifetime commitment.
Hence the reason he’d left London. A few days away were supposed to give him the perspective he needed and allow him to adjust to the changes soon to come.
Unfortunately, his concerns had only deepened since he’d arrived at Crawford House. His brief time away from London and the situation had done nothing to ease his regret.
“How long have you had the maze?” Matthew asked, pulling him back to the moment.
Tristan couldn’t help but smile at the boy. He’d been a pleasant distraction the past few days. The lad had a knack for escaping the maid and seeking out Tristan. He’d reassured her several times that he enjoyed spending time with Matthew, but she remained unconvinced. Each time Matthew appeared and she discovered him with Tristan, she apologized profusely.
If anyone had told him he’d be spending time with a boy only five years of age and enjoying it, he’d have dismissed them without a second thought. But Matthew was special—of that Tristan had no doubt. He was intelligent, clever, and curious.
He wasn’t fearful of Tristan and had no expectations of him. The boy didn’t comment on how much Tristan resembled his father in appearance or mannerisms as Matthew had never met him. Matthew didn’t cringe each time Tristan spoke. It was almost as if Tristan could have a fresh start with Matthew. Tristan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been afforded such a luxury.
Because of his duties as earl, he spent his days much like his father before him. He’d been trained to do so, learning his responsibilities at a young age. During those years, he’d also been encouraged to act in the same manner as his father—rewarded even. From berating servants for the slightest transgression to snarling at his family to delivering the cut direct to anyone who annoyed him, he’d done it all.
No matter what he did, he couldn’t step out from the long shadow of his father, the one that left him in the dark and alone. People frequently commented on his similarity to his father.
But not Matthew.
Tristan wasn’t sure how to act without those expectations staring him in the face each and every day. For the first time, he wondered if change was truly possible and not something he merely longed for.
Matthew had told Tristan about his own father’s death just over a year ago but little else. He obviously missed him as tears filled his eyes when he spoke of him, but Tristan didn’t think they’d shared the same closeness the child had with his mother. The boy remained tight-lipped about the rest of his life, including his surname.
Tristan had done his best to accept the lack of answers despite the many questions circling through his mind about the boy and his mother. It would be wrong to prompt the boy overmuch. Such matters should be addressed with the lady, but already he could tell she wouldn’t give answers easily either. She’d seemed uncomfortable when she’d feared he knew her name. His inquiries in the surrounding area had yet to bear fruit. No one knew who she was.
The air of mystery surrounding her only made Tristan more curious. Now that she was awake, he hoped to learn more. He’d have to wait until she was feeling better, of course. He only hoped it wouldn’t take long.
“Where the hell did she go?” Charles Stannus paced the length of the library at Witley Manor. “She isn’t that clever. She can’t have gone far.”
“Perhaps we should return home now.” Lynette, his wife of seven years, made the suggestion quietly, much like she said all her words.
Charles turned to glare at her. “We soon won’t have a home to return to if we don’t get our hands on that fortune.”
“None of my dowry is left?”
“That pittance wasn’t enough to see us through a year.” He glanced at the door to make certain it was shut. The last thing he needed was the servants to overhear their conversation. He and Lynette had worked hard to gain the servants’ trust in the two months they’d been here. It wouldn’t do to lose it now.
“There’s no money left at all?”
“None. I won enough money at cards to pay for our tickets here. If we return home with nothing, the creditors will be clamoring at our door.”
“Do you th
ink Grace suspected something? Is that why she left?” She wrung her hands, a habit that only angered Charles more.
She insisted his behavior made her nerves weak. Her behavior made his temper flare. They were forever at odds.
He turned away to consider her question. “She must’ve. I thought I was being careful.”
“Mothers can often sense when their children are in danger.”
“How would you know?” Charles couldn’t keep the disgust out of his tone. “Seven years and you’ve yet to give me a son.”
“But I—”
He waved his hand in dismissal at her. “Never mind. Once we get our hands on the Chivington money, we’ll find a way to have a son, even if we have to buy him.”
Lynette sank to a chair, her face pale.
Charles didn’t feel any need to apologize for his remark. He’d made his feelings clear on her barrenness numerous times to no avail. He still didn’t have a son. He had yet to decide if he’d keep Lynette as his wife once he had the title and inheritance.
First he needed to rid them of Daniel’s boy. Charles wouldn’t have guessed how difficult it would be to make certain a child was the victim of an accident. The snake in the conservatory had been a long shot. There was no guarantee the thing would bite Matthew. The stampeding horse had better odds but had still been unsuccessful.
He’d thought for sure that when he’d dumped the sleeping boy into the pond, the lad would drown. He’d even added some laudanum into both the maid’s and the boy’s drink that night to make sure they slept soundly. Luckily, the boy hadn’t woken to find Charles carrying him outside. That would’ve been difficult to explain.
Blast the groundskeeper and Grace for interfering. Five more minutes, and his plan would’ve succeeded.
The next plot he devised had to be foolproof. But first he had to find them.
“Didn’t you say Grace mentioned she had a cousin near the border of Scotland?” he asked.
“Yes. In Manchester, I believe. She mentioned her a few times.”
“She must’ve taken the boy there. Why don’t you make yourself useful for once and go ask the housekeeper if she knows any details about the name or location of that cousin?”
Rescuing the Earl (The Seven Curses of London Book 3) Page 3