by Meara Platt
“Yes.”
She laughed and shook her head once more, tousling her curls. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The butterfly flitted away, and they watched it disappear over the stone fence. Dillie turned to him, her gaze soft as she nestled against his body, her curves fitting so perfectly against him. “All I know is that everything feels right when I’m with you. I don’t understand why.”
“Blame it on the Chipping Way curse,” he said.
She looked up at him and smiled. “It isn’t really a curse, thank goodness. I’m so happy when I’m with you. I love being with you. Even when facing down blackguards in a stable or a fashionable London street.”
“You’ve always believed in me.”
“It wasn’t hard to do.” Her eyes were sparkling as she continued to gaze at him. “I love you, Ian. My heart twists in knots every time I think of the pain your family has put you through. James’ death was an accident. If the situation were reversed, you jumping in to rescue James, I know you would never have blamed him.”
“Dillie,” he said, his voice and every limb in his body shaking. He wanted to say more, but didn’t know where to start. Instead, he reached into his boot and withdrew the letter he’d just finished reading when she came upon him. He led her back to the tree where he’d been sitting and handed her the letter. “I’d like you to read it. Hell, I don’t know what to make of it.”
She sat on the grass, propped her shoulder against the trunk of the old oak tree, and unfurled the letter. Ian felt too much on edge to sit beside her, and instead began to pace along the water’s edge. “Tell me what you think, Dillie.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “You’re the only one I trust to tell me the truth.”
***
Dillie’s heart was pounding through her ears as she began to read. Ian trusted her, valued her opinion, and she simply couldn’t make a mistake. He’d handed over more than this mere letter, for along with that sheaf of paper, he’d handed her his heart. She knew this was the most important letter she might ever read in her life.
For that reason, she took her time going through it, not just once but several times before she dared to set it down. However, she still had questions. “Ian.” He stopped pacing and cast her a grim smile. Indeed, grim was an apt description of how he must be feeling, his insides painfully knotted and thoughts confused. “Who is this Mr. Badger?” She was referring to the gentleman who’d written the letter.
“Celestia and my cousins had let a house in Belgravia. Badger was their head butler. He came with the house, as did the rest of the staff.”
“What an odd name.” In truth, Daffodil was little better. Duchess Daffodil. Ugh! Almost as bad as Duchess Daffy.
“I thought so, too. I only met him a couple of times, when I stopped by to visit Celestia.” He ran hand through his hair again. “I never stayed long. You know how suffocating a mother’s affection can be at times.”
The sarcasm was evident in his voice, but so was his anguish. If only that horrid woman had ever held him, praised him, or kissed him goodnight. Just one hug, one kiss, or kind word would have been enough to sustain Ian. But it had never happened, not even once. “I’m sorry.”
She dared say nothing more, for he’d take her words as pity. He wanted honesty, no matter how brutal those words might be.
“I didn’t know what to make of Badger when I first met him. He looked so familiar, yet I couldn’t place him. There was something about his eyes, and something in his manner... a paternal kindness about him. I don’t know. I just sensed it. But what would I know of kindness?” He sighed and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have told you anything about him. I want you to form your own opinion of the man. For all I know, he could be a bounder, paid to write that pack of lies at the behest of Celestia. This would be the sort of cruel hoax she’d devise.”
“If it’s any consolation, I also thought Mr. Badger was an honest man. I sensed a pain in his own soul, and I don’t think that is something easily faked.”
Ian strode from the water’s edge and knelt beside her, arching one eyebrow. He looked handsome enough to melt her heart. “Go on, Dillie. Tell me more.”
“The letter sounds more like a confession, as though he’s wanted to relieve his burdened soul for several months now, but never quite found the courage. I’m glad he finally did, though I can’t blame him for his hesitation. It could not have been easy for him to open these old wounds about your brother.” Dillie felt her eyes misting and knew she’d likely be in tears before this conversation progressed much further. “We have to talk about that day, Ian. Do you trust me enough to tell me everything?”
He stroked his finger lightly across her cheek, his touch quite comforting and tender. “I have no secrets from you.”
Dillie was surprised by his earnestness. In truth, he could have lightened his words by calling her a snoop, for she was an incorrigible one, always with her ear to the keyhole. But he’d just been open and heartfelt about it. He wanted her to know the workings of his heart. “I love you, Ian.”
He grinned. “I know.”
She felt herself melting again. Crumpets! How could any woman ever resist this man? She turned away to peer down at the letter now open on her lap and began to read it aloud. “Your Grace. My sister, may she rest in peace, was in your father’s employ, charged with the care of you and your brother.”
Ian immediately tensed beside her. “She was our nanny at the time of the accident,” he explained, his voice tense and raspy. He seemed reluctant to continue, but Dillie encouraged him with a nod, for he needed to speak the words, the haunting thoughts he’d kept bottled inside for all these years. “She was with us that day. We called her Miss Nell. Never knew her full name. Just Miss Nell. James and I liked her. She was a cheerful, decent sort who rarely shouted at us, even though we often deserved it. We always got into mischief.”
“All little boys do. It’s in their nature.” She returned her attention to the letter. “My sister told me what happened shortly before she died. That was several years ago. Your Grace, please believe me when I say that she had no idea of the suffering your family has put you through. She would not have stayed quiet had she known.”
Dillie reached out to take Ian’s hand.
He laughed softly and gave her hand a light squeeze. “Still trying to protect me?”
“I can’t help it. I want to throw my arms around you and kiss away your pain. But I know that you’re no longer a little boy.” She now had her fingers entwined in Ian’s hand. His touch felt good, but it always did. She hoped her touch felt as good to him. “You and young James were playing by the frozen pond when your mother’s carriage passed by. She’d just opened the door to issue instructions to my sister when her dog jumped off her lap and bounded after a squirrel.”
“Raggles, her little terrier,” Ian murmured.
“The squirrel took off across the frozen pond and her dog chased after it.” She paused a moment and swallowed hard. “Your brother ran onto the pond, thinking to catch him and return him to your mother.”
Dillie paused and gazed up at him. “James was the one who ran onto the ice.”
“So Badger says, but I don’t know if I believe him. Problem is, I don’t remember most of what happened, only that James died and I was blamed for it.”
“You and Nell were on the shore, calling out to James and begging him to come back, but he was determined to catch the dog. The blasted creature finally ran back to Nell. She had just carried him back to your mother and was hurrying back to the pond when your brother suddenly fell through the ice. You were closest and ran out to him, then fell in as well when the ice broke under your feet.”
Dillie felt Ian shudder, couldn’t begin to imagine the anguish he was feeling. He knelt beside her, unmoving and brittle. She felt his composure begin to slip away. She was beginning to unravel as well, her heart lodged in her throat as she imagined what four-year-old Ian must have been thinking and feeling. “You ran to save y
our brother. I believe it, Ian. This is exactly what you would have done.”
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “James would have done the same for me.”
She nodded, for although she knew almost nothing of James, the brothers had been close. No doubt James was as valiant as Ian, and she felt a sincere tug of regret that she had never known him. More important, she deeply regretted that Ian had lost the only person who had ever loved him. What a horrid family! “Both of you went under, Your Grace. Nell found you first and hauled you out, then jumped back in after your brother.”
Dillie let out a groan as she wiped at the tear rolling down her cheek. She must not have been very quiet, for the next thing she knew, Ian was putting his arms around her and drawing her onto his lap. “I’m trying to be strong, but I feel as though my heart is about to burst and all my feelings about to spill out. Oh, Ian! Nell said you had been holding onto James, but your hands were numb and James was so frightened he kept struggling against you. You were so little! Too little to hold on to him.”
“I remember that part,” Ian said softly, “much the way Badger described it in his letter. By the time Nell reached me, I’d lost hold of James. I recall the struggling. I thought I had been the one frightened and pushing away. The water was deep where James and I had gone under. I blacked out, never remembered Nell hauling me to shore. Never remembered being tossed into my mother’s carriage.”
“Badger writes that your mother remained in her carriage, that she never ran down to the pond to help Nell or her coachman save you boys.” Dillie perused the letter still held in her trembling hands. “And then she wouldn’t give up her fur wrap to warm you and James. Her only concern was for Raggles.” Another tear rolled down her cheek. “The driver and Nell had to give over their cloaks. How can any mother be so callous? I would have—”
“You would have been first in that water.” He stroked his big, warm hand along her back, ran his fingers gently through her hair. “You would have given your life to save your children.”
Still sniffling, she nodded against his chest. “Precious moments lost, you and James suffering from the icy shock, and no help for it until you’d reached the manor house.”
Ian took the letter from her hand and began to read aloud, the rich depth of his voice tremulous as he spoke. “I don’t know if Nell could have saved James. She tried her best, but his body was blue by the time he was stripped and put into his warm bed. One of the footmen had started a fire in the hearth, tossing on enough wood to make a roaring flame. Another footman did the same for you as you lay in your room. Nell knew that you were in better shape and would survive, so she spent most of her time with James.”
He paused and let out a soft oath. “Celestia did nothing but fuss over her damn dog. James was her son and he lay dying. Her greatest worry was that Father would fly into a rage and order Raggles destroyed.”
Ian let out a bitter laugh. “She paid off the coachman and ordered him to leave Edgeware forever. She tried the same with my sister, but Nell would have none of it. When Nell heard your mother lie and blame you for your brother’s death, she tried to tell your father.”
“But he wouldn’t listen,” Dillie said in disgust.
“Celestia had gotten to him first, and my father was an arrogant bastard anyway. He wasn’t the sort to take the word of a lowly nanny, probably believed Nell was covering for her own mistakes.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck again. “I don’t know if any of this tale is true, Dillie. I want to believe Badger. If it is true, then he did the right thing in telling me.”
Dillie nodded. “I believe him, Ian. No liar could have crafted such a letter.”
“Badger bears a resemblance to his sister, in the shape and color of his eyes. That’s why I felt as though we’d met before, as though I’d known him for most of my life.”
She pursed her lips. “In a way, you had.”
“Badger thought it an odd coincidence that he should come into the service of the Markham family all these years after the incident that had gotten his sister sacked. He was reluctant to admit it to any of us, fearing we’d discharge him as well.”
“Then he realized how awful your family was and did his best to set matters right,” she said, her lips still pursed and her brow lightly furrowed.
He kissed her brow and drew her more firmly against his chest. “Well, I wanted to show you the letter. My mind’s still reeling. I feel as though I’ve been gored by a bull.”
She caressed Ian’s cheek. “You’ve been given a lot to take in all at once. He ended the letter with Bless you, Your Grace. Forgive me for opening horrific old wounds. A blessing and a request for forgiveness. Those are the words of an honest man. And he isn’t hiding from you. If we have more questions for him, we’ll know where to find him.”
“No wonder Celestia hated me so much. Every time she looked at me, she must have worried that one day I would remember exactly what happened. That her dog ran onto the ice, that it was her dog James was trying to catch when he fell in and drowned.” He kept his arms tightly wrapped around her. “Bugger. Tell me something pleasant, Dillie. Anything to stop me from thinking about this. And what does it matter now? Nothing will change. My mother will still hate me. My father, the old bastard, is long dead.”
She sat up and turned to face him. “Everything has changed, Ian. You’ve changed, finally accepted moving beyond the accident. In truth, I think you were already on the way to forgiving yourself before this letter arrived. You had already chosen to move forward, to marry me and embark on a new life.”
She edged off his lap and rolled to her knees, still facing him. “I suppose I’m glad Mr. Badger wrote you this letter, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. You were a child. You and James always loved each other. Whether he chased after you or you chased after him on the pond that day doesn’t change how two brothers felt about each other. It doesn’t change how I feel about you, how much I respect and admire you.”
She let out a squeal when he suddenly rose and scooped her into his arms. “What are you doing?”
“You respect and admire me?” She could see that he was still struggling with his own feelings. He’d been suffering too long to merely snap his fingers and expect the memory of James or that awful day to flit away as lightly as the butterfly that landed on her hand a short while ago. “Say it, Dillie.”
“What am I to say?” Her smile broadened as he gazed at her in expectation. “Oh, that.” She kissed him softly on the lips. “I love you, Ian. Always have and always will love you. Now, will you take me back to the lodge?”
He nodded. “Through the gate this time. No more leaping over stone walls. We have a wedding to plan.”
CHAPTER 17
DILLIE HAD LITTLE TIME to dwell on Ian’s reluctance to utter those three little words, “I love you.” Especially not today, almost three months after their quiet wedding, for their guests would soon arrive at their London townhouse to celebrate in style. All of her family, indeed most of London, had been invited to the Duke and Duchess of Edgeware’s ball, and almost everyone had responded with an acceptance. Even the Prince Regent.
Even Lady Withnall.
Dillie stifled a groan as she imagined the thuck, thuck, thuck of the little harridan’s cane resounding on the floor while she made her way up the receiving line toward her and Ian, her bat ears and hawk eyes ever at the ready.
Mercy! Dillie quickly dismissed all thought of London’s most prolific gossip, for she had more important matters on her mind. Their ball promised to be a crush, quite the grandest party of the London season. That she happened to be the Duchess of Edgeware still astounded her.
She paused at the entrance of the ballroom. All furniture had been removed and the floors polished. Indeed, furniture had been removed from most of the rooms, save the dining hall. Nothing was left but chairs and a few tables scattered against the walls of the ballroom and ladies’ salon. For those who didn’t wish to dance, gaming tables had bee
n set up in makeshift card rooms near the ballroom. Guests could play whist or the rowdier speculation that was more suited to the younger crowd.
Butlers, footmen, and maids were all scurrying about to put the final touches on each room. Dillie walked from one to the other, making certain the negus, lemonade, and champagne were in place in the refreshments room, that fresh biscuits were set out beside the punch bowls, and that Mrs. Mayhew—borrowed from her mother for the night—had supper under way for a crowd that might swell to five hundred at the height of the ball.
She gazed up as members of the orchestra began to tune their instruments. They were hidden in the ballroom’s balcony, behind a row of potted ferns. A glance at the ormolu clock on the entry hall table showed it was approaching eight o’clock. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I love you, Ian. I hope this party is a success.
Candles in the chandeliers, candelabra, and wall sconces were now lit, their red-gold flames shimmering against the crystal and silver fixtures. All appeared to be in glittering order. Felicity was at Daisy’s, happily spending the night in the care of Miss Poole and Ivy’s nanny. Dillie already missed having the little imp underfoot. Their townhouse had been far too quiet all day, even with all the upheaval of preparing for the ball.
Ian came up behind her and enveloped her in his arms. “You look beautiful, Duchess Daffy.” He planted a fat kiss on her neck.
“Ugh! You fiend, don’t you dare call me that in front of our guests.” However, she could never stay mad at Ian for very long, and certainly not now, for he looked devastatingly handsome in his formal garb, black jacket, waistcoat, and trousers contrasting with a crisp white shirt and tie. “Ashcroft did a nice job of dressing you.”
He turned her in his arms and cast a boyishly appealing grin. “And I hope you’ll do an even nicer job of undressing me after the ball. Promise you will, Duchess Daffy.”
She burst into laughter. “Stop calling me that, you wicked man. And don’t you dare call me that in front of Lady Withnall. I’ll never shake off the name once the old gossip spreads it about.”