by Rebecca King
“Ah, hello again. I should be delighted if you have returned to give us the wonderful news that you have changed your mind and will dine with us?” Mabel gushed; her cheeks florid with the force of her discomfort.
“No,” Ryan bit out. “I have alternative plans. But thank you.”
Sian struggled to keep her gaze locked on the floor, but some inner streak of defiance forced her to look up. The moment their gazes clashed she knew, deep in her heart, that he had somehow heard every word she had said about him and was angry. The steady tick of a muscle in his jaw warned her that he was doing his best to withhold his fury, but only just.
Defiantly, Sian tipped her chin up and refused to offer any word of apology.
“I have left my riding gloves in the study,” Ryan informed them.
“Oh, are they in here?” Mabel disappeared into her husband’s study and returned momentarily with said gloves, which she duly handed over. As she did so, she threw Sian a dark look that warned her to mind her manners.
Sian barely noticed. She was absorbed by the hurt that bloomed with the knowledge she had just made Ryan Terrell hate her a little bit more. Why he seemed determined to dislike her in the first place was beyond her. She had always been polite with him, whereas he had always been stand-offish, distant, and more than a little contemptuous.
Sian was aware of the wild hammering of her heart which increased its heavy pounding when Ryan stalked toward Mabel and retrieved his gloves. As he passed back, their gazes clashed once more. There was a hidden message in the look he gave her, but she couldn’t hazard a guess as to what it was. Was it a warning?
I don’t think I am ever going to know.
Sian suspected that after today, Ryan was even more likely to avoid her whenever their lives brought them together. Consequently, she memorised everything she could about him while he was there, not least because she suspected it was going to be a long time yet before she saw him again. The sense of discomfort she felt when a heavy silence settled in his wake was something that left Sian battling a melancholy that was so strong, she suspected it was going to take some eradicating.
“I should have stayed out of the way while he was here,” she whispered.
“Oh, but he didn’t hear,” Mabel assured her.
“Really?” Sian asked, trying desperately to find light in a world of misery.
“He heard every word and is furious about it,” Martha snorted with all the gauche honesty of youth.
Mabel tutted and sighed.
“Well, he hates me anyway,” Sian blustered defensively. “What will it matter if he hates me even more?”
It won’t matter. It won’t matter at all. I hate him too.
But she knew she didn’t. Ryan Terrell was the man of her dreams. He was everything she had ever wanted in a husband, and the only man who had ever, in her girlish fantasies at least, been her Knight in shining armour. He was bold, strong, confident, sophisticated, and a little bit roguish. He had an excellent reputation amongst the locals, and had wealth, status, and a huge mansion across the valley.
“I wouldn’t worry too much. He is a gentleman,” Mabel assured her daughter when she saw the distress Sian couldn’t quite hide. “There. Look. He is going now. Father is waving him off. He doesn’t look angry, does he?”
Sian studied her father, who merely looked thoughtful as he re-entered the house. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realise that everyone was still in the hallway, until he closed the door and realised his path to the study was blocked by the women in his life.
“What in the Devil’s name is going on?” he demanded.
“Mother is eyeing up the lord of the manor. She thinks he would make a suitable husband for Sian,” Lucinda informed him.
“He would not. Ryan Terrell would never consider someone like me as a wife,” Sian snapped.
“And why not? Eh? We are as good as any other well-to-do family around these parts. We already have an acquaintance with his father. Why wouldn’t Ryan consider taking one of you as his wife, eh? It’s not that unheard of, you know,” Mabel argued.
“Now, Mabel, let’s not get into all of that right now,” Arthur chided. His shoulders were stooped as he stomped down the hall to his study.
“Is there a problem? Did he bring you bad news?” Mabel asked hopefully, wondering if her husband was going to take her into his confidence this time.
“Yes,” Arthur grunted dismissively. He slammed the door to his study closed to give himself a few brief moments of blessed peace, and the women the opportunity to talk amongst themselves, and therefore missed his wife’s crestfallen expression before she turned away.
“He never changes, does he?” Sian growled.
“He has a lot on his mind,” Mabel offered.
“Like what? All he does is sit in his office all day. He doesn’t do anything, mother. That is why he is always grumpy. Don’t you think it is high time he found himself something to do?” Sian cried.
“Now, we are not going to go into that right now. For the time being, let’s go and take some tea, shall we?”
“Oh, yes, lets because tea really solves all of our problems, doesn’t it?” Sian snapped sarcastically. “Do you know what? I think my problems would be better resolved by going for a walk.”
She jerked when Lucinda gasped. “And no, Lucinda, you shall not come with me.”
Snatching her shawl back off the peg, Sian hurried through the house and, moments later, slammed out of the house. Her long legs ate up the distance to the garden gate, which gave the family access to the fields and moors at the back of the house. The open countryside ran for miles in all directions, but Sian’s favourite route took her to the very edge of the Terrell estate, and Carson House which sat in the centre of it. While it was closer to Ryan than she would have liked, Sian suspected that Ryan was already on his way to the house. He wasn’t likely to venture anywhere near the derelict church located at the bottom end of his property. Sian, however, did.
It was her most favourite place on earth, and the only place Sian could go to get away from the dull monotony that was life. While she was like any other young lady of means, and invariably spent her time reading and sewing like any well-bred young lady should, Sian also walked as often as possible. If she didn’t then she struggled to contain the urge to break free of all the restraints of her life so she could breathe and be herself for a while. Out here, with nobody for miles around, she could truly be who she was meant to be.
“If I am honest, there is nothing I can do at home without getting bored,” Sian whispered as she spied the derelict building standing like a ghost waiting to be found amidst the trees. “I need to walk and hope to feel better about everything by the time I get back.”
CHAPTER THREE
Sian spent an indeterminable night tossing and turning, and pretending she was able to think of something other than Ryan Terrell. At some point she gave up and flopped onto her side to stare blankly out at the encroaching thunderstorm. Her thoughts felt as tumultuous. She wished that she was able to rattle the beating drum like the clouds created thunder, and all her tension and worry would be resolved, but she knew it never would be.
“I know what is wrong, and I know there is nothing I can do about it,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
She had been in love with Ryan for as long as she could remember. As a young girl she had taken one look at the local lord’s son and fallen hard. He had been bored, that much she could remember, but he had still sat patiently beside his father, who had come to the house to discuss business with hers. Sian had taken one look at that youthful visage of Ryan Terrell, and her entire world had changed forever.
“You know, you really must stop thinking about him.”
Sian sat upright in bed. She glared across the room and saw Martha hovering in the doorway.
“I should have remembered you don’t like thunderstorms,” she muttered.
Martha remained where she was, until a flas
h of lightning tore through the night. As quick as a blink, Martha positively flew across the room and launched herself into bed.
“Where do you think he is now?” Martha asked whimsically when she was settled beneath the covers.
“Probably sound asleep like we should be.” Sian made no apology for the crispness in her voice.
“He is handsome, though.”
Sian didn’t answer.
“He is kind as well.”
“To you, maybe.”
“He hasn’t ever been rude to you,” Martha chided.
Sian had to concede that Martha had a point. “He is a cold fish.”
“What makes you think that?”
Sian contemplated the night sky. “Well, take this afternoon, for instance. Did you see that muscle ticking in his jaw?”
“Of course,” Martha replied with a sniff. “He was probably cross that you insulted him.”
“I didn’t insult him. I just said that he hates me, which he does. To you, he talks and often makes you giggle. To me, he is barely civil. He clearly dislikes me.” Sian had to stop talking because her voice had thickened the more that she had spoken to the point that it didn’t even sound like her anymore.
“I think he likes you really.”
Sian’s heart flipped at that. She felt a yearning start to bloom out of nowhere but it suffused her with an icy grief the likes of which truly did make her want to cry. She felt as if she had lost something, but then knew that it was impossible to lose something you never had in the first place. Ryan Terrell could never be hers.
“He belongs in a different world, Martha, and I should thank you not to go about suggesting to people that there ever could be an association between us. It makes me look as if I have ideas above my station. Lord Carson comes around here to do business with father. He has never had nor ever will have any romantic inclination toward me.”
“I am sorry, Sian. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Martha placed a hand on Sian’s arm, but the last thing Sian needed right now was sympathy. She was struggling to keep a tight hold on her emotions as it was.
“Do you know what business father might have with him this time?”
Sian knew that her father had inherited a fortune in his early forties and had promptly retired to the countryside to live off it. Consequently, he had no real business to conduct, yet he supposedly had some business with Ryan and his father hence they kept coming around and locking themselves in the study with him. Of late, though, those meetings had taken far longer and been far more intense than they had ever been. Further, Ryan’s father had stopped coming around, leaving Ryan to act as go-between.
“They were discussing something about some financial problems father has,” Martha explained.
Sian looked sharply at her. “How many times have you been told not to listen at keyholes? You are getting as bad as mother.”
“Well, don’t pretend you aren’t curious,” Martha replied with an unapologetic shrug. “You just asked, didn’t you? If I hadn’t listened at the keyhole, we wouldn’t know that father is helping them with money, or vice versa. I also heard him mention something about marriage.”
Sian’s panicked gaze flew to her sister. “Ryan is getting married?”
A wave of pain slammed into the centre of Sian’s chest the kind of which she had never felt before in her life. It hurt so much that she struggled to breathe. Her world ceased to exist, but when it did start to move again it shifted on its axis and turned into an alien world of loss and suffering the likes of which she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to survive.
“No. He – father – said something about needing to marry us off.”
“God, I hope father hasn’t suggested that Ryan offers for one of us,” Sian muttered with a disgusted huff.
Martha gasped and looked alarmed. “You don’t think Ryan would offer for me, do you? He is more your age than mine. I like my Isambard, though. Now he is nice and has a good position now he has become a trainee at Mr Richardson’s accountancy firm. Of course, that house of his needs a few feminine touches here and there but it is large enough, don’t you think?”
“Isambard?” Sian knew her father would have a conniption if he could hear her, not least because the Rodgers’ family had no connections whatsoever.
“He is coming into some money soon as well,” Martha added, as if Sian needed persuading.
“No, he won a bet on the horses. Well, that is what I heard in any case. Father hates the Rodgers family. There is no possibility he would ever agree to you marrying Isambard.” Sian winced when she saw Martha’s devastated look. “Believe me, I know what it feels like to have your dreams crushed. Take it from me, it is best if you stop all thoughts of matrimony to a man you love. Marriage is a business contract, really. It rarely has anything to do with love.”
“Now you sound like father, Sian.” Martha stared at her sister as if she had never met her before.
Sian sighed. “Well, if you cannot marry the man you love you will have to marry for financial reasons. We cannot stay here forever, can we? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be the one to have to look after mother and father in their dotage, do you? Don’t you want a house of your own and a little bit of freedom?”
“But you won’t have freedom being married. Your husband will tell you what to do. Oh, you do get some wayward notions into your head, Sian.” Martha, still stinging from the cautionary words about her beloved Isambard, flopped back down onto the bed and draped the blankets over her.
Sian eased out of bed and settled her shawl over her shoulders as she moved closer to the window. Once there, she hugged her shawl and stared blindly outside. She wished she knew what she had done to Ryan to make him dislike her so. She felt sure that if she knew what he found so irritating about her she might know what to do to correct it. As it was, she couldn’t even hazard a guess. Everything she seemed to do was wrong and she couldn’t think of something intelligent to say that would engage him in conversation.
That’s because every time you see him you behave like some tongue-tied adolescent who cannot string two words together.
It was galling, but true.
“If only he wasn’t so handsome, I should know what to do to make him like me. But then, why should I change for a man?” Sian whispered.
“You are going to have to change if you marry. I mean, life can’t ever stand still, or we couldn’t live.” Martha’s voice turned drowsy and she yawned widely.
Hoping her sister would fall asleep sooner rather than later, Sian remained quiet. She perched on the window seat and tucked her knees up so she could wrap her shawl around her frozen toes. Once again, her thoughts turned to Ryan, and the adoration she felt for him. It hurt to think that he might eventually marry. The thought of him having a wife was just something she couldn’t even bear to contemplate. It was devastating, but she suspected she was going to have to live through the ordeal of knowing he loved another anyway. It was only a matter of time. At four and thirty, he was indeed a prize catch. His family had a sterling reputation and was one of the oldest families in the area. Together with his brothers, Gregory and Stuart, the Terrell brothers were recognised by practically every female with a heartbeat in the surrounding counties.
Strangely, though, none of them had ever married. Was Ryan to be the first?
A wave of misery settled over Sian’s shoulders and made her want to cry. She was cold, tired, and knew she should at least try to get some sleep, but her mind wouldn’t settle no matter how much she tried. Instead, she began to pray for a miracle.
At some point, she must have dozed because she was awoken by the sound of dull thudding coming from somewhere deep in the bowels of the house. At first, she blinked sleepily and tried to remember why she wasn’t tucked up in bed. When her gaze landed on the hunched form of Martha still huddled beneath the sheets, Sian remembered exactly what she had been doing – thinking of Ryan again.
“Now who in the world could this be calling upon
us at this unearthly time of the night?” Sian whispered when she realised the sound was someone knocking on the door.
She tried to look at the clock on the mantle. Now that the thunderstorm had passed, the room was bathed in an eerie blackness that made it too dark to see the clock’s handles. It also made crossing the room a hazard. Still, Sian fumbled her way over to the table and clumsily lit a candle.
“What’s going on?” Martha whispered when the sound of heavier knocks was interspersed with a loud commotion outside their bed chamber door.
Sian shrugged and hurried out of her room.
“Who is it?”
“How in the Devil’s name should I know?” Arthur snapped at his wife.
Mabel glared at his back and sighed. “Whoever it is send them on their way. This is not the time of night for a calling on decent folk unannounced.”
Sian rolled her eyes. Her thoughts immediately sprang to Ryan, but she discounted any notion that it might be him on the doorstep. Regardless of how he felt about her, she knew he was too well-bred to ever have a need to call upon them in the middle of the night. Tugging her dressing gown tighter around her, Sian huddled closer to her mother and Martha and waited to see who was trying to beat the front door down.
“What in all that’s holy is wrong?” Arthur thundered.
He slammed the bolt back on the door and yanked it open with a heavy scowl only to be unceremoniously shoved out of the way the second there was enough space. He stumbled back and watched in amazement was a large woman stalked into the hallway with a flurry of feathers and a disgruntled snort.
“It took you long enough, Arthur,” Aunt Wilhelmina growled. “Don’t you know it is raining outside?”
Arthur blinked at her before slowly turning to look at the large carriage parked as close to the door as it was possible to get. The driver was busy untying ropes from the roof of the conveyance while another man was dragging bags out of the interior of the carriage.