Georgie Lee

by Heros Redemption

  They broke from the woods, startling birds and rabbits before slowing as they approached the first small hill. Pulling their horses into a walk, Devon led them along a well-worn path, past pastures of grazing sheep and fields of growing grain.

  “I love Malton Hall at this time of year.” He swept one hand toward a field of tall grass swaying in the breeze.

  “It’s beautiful land.”

  “I have plans for it. One is a new system of crop rotation, the other is draining the marsh just over the ridge.” He pointed his riding crop at a distant hill traced by a low stone wall.

  “That’s quite an expensive undertaking.”

  “But necessary. The tenants believe it’s the source of the yearly summer fever but Father never listened to them.”

  “What convinced you?”

  “I saw how Napoleon curtailed fever in France by draining marshes. I hope to achieve the same results while providing more farm land.”

  “I’m impressed,” she said. “I doubt any other Lord knows so much about his own lands.”

  “Keeping busy helped distract me from other things.”

  “I understand. I used to mix new ointments and oils as a way to pass the long hours.” She adjusted the reins in her hands. “I have an excellent liniment for sore muscles.”

  “Another night like last night and we’ll need it,” he teased and Cathleen smiled with an equal mixture of embarrassment and pride. “Then I’ll be sure to prepare a bottle once we return.”

  They crested the hill and came upon a freshly plowed field on the other side. A farmer stood near the fence, surveying the land, and Devon stopped to introduce Cathleen and speak with the man. His stallion pawed at the packed dirt as Devon listened to the grizzled old farmer’s concerns about the new crop rotation system. Instead of dismissing the farmer with the paternal arrogance of most landowners, Devon answered his questions with respect, carefully explaining how the new system would benefit all the tenants.

  While Devon spoke, Cathleen examined his profile. He sat in the saddle with a powerful grace. In time, would a deeper feeling grow between them? Flicking a speck of mud off her boot with her crop, she silently chastised herself for being so greedy. She’d wanted this safety and security for so long and now, with it in her possession, she filled her head with romantic notions like some silly girl who’d read too many novels. If love never bloomed between them, it wouldn’t be so terrible to live with an amiable and thoughtful man. There were worse fates a woman could suffer. She’d glimpsed enough of them to know.

  Devon finished his conversation, bid the farmer good day and guided them back to the bridle path and into a pleasant walk. “I want you to learn the workings and people here in case I need you to manage affairs while I’m away.”

  “You’re a brave man. There aren’t many old married men who’d trust their wives with business affairs, let alone one who is newly married.”

  “It’s because I’ve married an intelligent, capable woman.”

  “Then I’ll endeavor to learn and not disappoint you.”

  Coming down out of the forest, they rode into the little village nestled between the lazily flowing Malton River and a small hill. Cathleen remembered it from her carriage ride to Malton Hall and marveled again at the bustle of people along High Street. Two gentlemen inspected a gorgeous dark brown horse with a white patch between his eyes while some women admired the bonnets and gloves in the window of a shop. “I’m amazed at how busy this village is.”

  “With so many people traveling through on the way to and from London, it does quite a trade.” Devon pointed his crop at a low brick building with a bow front window. “There’s the milliner. If you need anything while we’re here, the woman who owns the shop will help you.”

  “I think Elizabeth has provided me with everything I need,” Cathleen laughed.

  “Yes, she’s already planning your dress for Lady Uplands’s ball tomorrow night.”

  “A ball?” Cathleen shifted in the saddle, careful not to move too fast for fear of unseating herself. “So soon?”

  “Lady Upland holds it every year. I don’t usually attend but I thought it an excellent way to introduce you. Much less formal than a London ball.”

  “Thank you for including me in your plans.”

  “I’m sorry.” He laid one hand over his heart, less than contrite. “With everything happening so fast, I didn’t want to startle you.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve failed.”

  “In the future, I’ll be more successful.”

  They rode further, past a two story black and white timber building. Over the main door, a wooden sign with a swan painted on it swung in the breeze. A carriage stood out front, rocking as the passengers stepped down and walked inside to rest or make arrangements.

  “There’s the Silver Swan. The coach from London stops there, so it’s usually busy with travelers.”

  They rode by the entrance, the wide main street between them and the building, when a woman wearing a simple homespun cloak and hood alighted and made her way inside. Cathleen caught a glimpse of the woman’s profile and a shock tore through her. Gripping the reigns, she twisted around in the saddle to get a better look but the woman disappeared through the dark timbered doorway.

  “Of all my holdings, the tavern is the one you find most interesting,” he laughed. “I hope I won’t have to go in there one night and pull you out.”

  “I have no interest in the tavern. I only thought I recognized one of the passengers.”

  “Which one?” Devon turned to examine the people but all had gone inside and only the driver remained, unhooking the horses from their harnesses.

  “She’s gone now but it couldn’t possibly be who I thought it was.”

  “Who?”

  “Martha, but she couldn’t be here. She detests the country.”

  “Then it can’t be her,” Devon reassured her. Their horses ambled along the edge of the old church cemetery.

  Cathleen adjusted her leg over the pommel. “Unless she thinks there’s something to gain by coming here.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know but Lucien and Martha let me go too easily. It’s not like them to miss an opportunity to make money.”

  “Is there something I should know? Something they could use to blackmail you?” he asked, the suspicion she’d seen outside the pawnbroker’s lurking in the question.

  “Only the lies they’ve concocted in my absence,” Cathleen fumed, hating the way her relations cast a shadow over her happiness. What affection could grow between them when mention of her family clouded his eyes with distrust?

  “When we return to Malton Hall, I’ll send a man to the Silver Swan to investigate.”

  “No, please don’t trouble yourself or any of your people with such a foolish errand. Lucien and Martha know I won’t give them anything and I doubt they’d spend what little blunt they have to come pester me. If they plan to try anything, it’ll most likely be when we return to London.”

  “Tell me immediately if they contact you and I’ll put an end to it. A few words to their creditors should silence them both.”

  Cathleen smiled appreciatively, feeling his momentary distrust replaced by the protective circle he drew around them. She took comfort in it, but it didn’t dispel her worries. Lucien and Martha wouldn’t be so easily put off. They’d cause problems for them in London, if not through the ballrooms, then in secret insidious ways. Though Devon enjoyed the power and protection of his rank, she’d seen at least one great man fall victim to Lucien and Martha’s schemes. Hopefully, by the time they returned, the creditors would finally drive them abroad and she’d be done with them.

  * * *

  Devon panted hard, his shirt wet with perspiration, his leg muscles burning from the vigorous run. Mr. Matthews stood nearby, watching, his thick arms crossed over his massive chest.

  “Why did I bring you here to torture me?” Devon gasped, glaring at the hulk of a man.

&nbs
p; “It wasn’t to serve yer tea, milord,” he scoffed. “To build back the muscle, you must use it, now keep running.”

  At this moment, Devon detested Mr. Matthews but he continued sprinting, ignoring the pain. Devon employed the former boxing champion to help him recover the strength in his leg. The man’s style of training had done more for his recovery than any of the London doctors’ leeches or tinctures. Touching the fence post and heading back to the stable, he ran faster and harder, hoping the exercise would clear his mind, but questions still plagued him as well as guilt.

  The memory of Cathleen’s face outside the Silver Swan, pale with concern, continued to haunt him. Whoever the mysterious woman was, her presence dampened Cathleen’s happiness, making her tense and reserved during the return to Malton Hall. He’d tried to reassure her that Lucien couldn’t harm them, but uncertainty lingered in the nervous play of her hands on the reigns. If Lucien threatened her, Devon wondered if she’d trust him enough to come to him or if she’d take matters into her own hands and fall deeper into the scoundrel’s debt.

  “Don’t slow down. Keep up the pace,” Mr. Matthews commanded.

  Devon ran faster, unable to escape the scraping claws of guilt. He’d asked Cathleen to trust him but he didn’t trust her enough to reveal his deepest secret. He couldn’t tell her, not yet. He wasn’t ready to watch her gentle looks turn to hate, to hear her blame him for her poverty and Thomas’ death, or risk losing her like he’d lost all his old friends.

  “Stop,” Mr. Matthews commanded. Devon slowed to a walk before coming to a halt. Hands on his knees, he drew in a few deep breaths until he’d recovered enough to accept a clean towel from the boxer. “How does the leg feel?”

  “Quite limber.”

  “And durin’ the day?”

  “If I keep moving it doesn’t trouble me.”

  “Warm muscles won’t.”

  “In the mornings I feel it.”

  “I’ll get ya more liniment for the night, keep the muscle from stiffenin’.”

  “No, I have a new liniment I wish to try.”

  Mr. Matthews eyed him suspiciously. “Not some useless vinegar from an apothecary looking to fleece yer lordship?’

  Devon laughed, clapping the man on the back. “No, I assure you, it’s from a reputable source.” Mr. Matthews looked dubious but Devon had more to discuss with the boxer than liniment. “Matthews, I want you to do something for me.”

  “Whatever yer lordship commands.”

  “You know the Silver Swan?”

  “Stop there for a nip now and then.”

  “Have a drink on me tonight and while you’re there inquire after a man and woman who might have taken rooms. Last name is Wells, though they might be traveling under assumed names.” While they walked to the house, Devon described Lucien and Martha. “Don’t speak with them, just find out, as subtly as you can, if they’re there.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  “Thank you, Matthews. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Mr. Matthews gave a quick bow before striding off to the stables. Devon climbed the stairs of the back patio where the butler greeted him with a glass of lemon water on a silver tray. Devon downed the contents, wincing at the bitter concoction Mr. Matthews insisted he consume after each exercise.

  “Where’s Lady Malton?”

  “She’s gone riding, milord.”

  “Again?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  A hard wind blew across the patio and Devon’s crisp shadow faded from the stone beneath his feet. He looked up at the fast moving clouds and thought of the Silver Swan and the strange woman who’d made Cathleen so anxious. Cathleen insisted her brother had no hold over her, but Devon had his doubts. Perhaps the whole scene in town was part of some new scheme she was embroiled in and it was guilt, not worry, that had stolen the smile from her face.

  Devon returned the glass to the tray. “Ask Lady Malton to find me the moment she returns.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  Devon strode through the sitting room, hating the suspicious feeling sitting hard on his shoulders. But there it was, proving stubborn to dislodge.

  “There’s the happy husband,” Elizabeth sang out from her place on the settee, an assortment of pattern books piled around her. “Though you look very glum at the moment.”

  Devon stood behind a chair, his fingers trilling the dark wood. “Cathleen has gone riding.”

  Elizabeth tossed a pattern book on the table. “This is a crisis.”

  “We recently returned from riding.” Devon ground his teeth, irritated at his sister’s flippant reaction and how ridiculous his concerns sounded once aired aloud.

  “Perhaps she enjoyed it so much, she wanted to do it again.” She moved to stand and he helped her up. “Or with everything that’s happened over the last few days, she needed some time alone.”

  “You don’t find it strange?”

  “No. Why should you?”

  Because, like a fool, I’m denying her the trust I want her to place in me. “I suppose I’m not yet used to her habits.”

  “Or you’re irritated because she’s chosen riding over more interesting afternoon pleasures,” Elizabeth answered with a saucy smile and Devon threw back his head and laughed. “Now, help me outside. I wish to walk in the garden before the weather turns truly frightful.”

  He looked out the French doors at the fast moving clouds. “Do you think it’s wise?”

  “We won’t go far. I only want some fresh air.”

  He escorted her out onto the patio and down the small flight of stairs to the garden. A stiff breeze heavy with the scent of rain rushed over them, shaking the branches of the shrubs along the path.

  “You think I’m foolish to worry about Cathleen riding again?”

  “Yes. You can hardly expect to occupy all her time while you’re here. As it is, I’ve hardly seen either of you since yesterday. I was beginning to wonder if you’d even left your room.”

  “Don’t be a chit. We were at breakfast this morning, which is more than you can say.”

  “In my condition, I’m allowed to rest, though I’ve been far from lazy. I’ve already given Mary instructions for reworking my old pink gown so it will suit Cathleen for the ball.”

  “If she’s gone riding, then it must be to escape your enthusiastic planning.”

  They turned a corner, stepping into a wide avenue lined with low rows of flowers bending with each strong gust.

  “Deep down, I think she’s enjoying it. I know I am.” Elizabeth studied her brother. “I must admit, when I first received your note I was dubious. I thought you’d found a way to spite Mama for being so beastly to you these last two years. Then, when you told me your reason for marrying, I was worried. But since I’ve seen the two of you together and the effect she’s had on you, I know you made the right decision.”

  “Her effect on me?”

  “You’ve been so happy these last few days, as if a weight has been lifted from you.”

  “In a way, it has.”

  Thunder rolled across the landscape and another frosty wind whipped through the garden, catching the edge of Elizabeth’s skirt.

  “We better get you back inside where it’s warm.”

  They started for the house when Elizabeth stopped, clutched her stomach and sucked in a sharp breath.

  “What’s wrong? Should I call the midwife?”

  She shook her head, breathing hard for a moment before straightening. “No, it’s only a slight twinge. I’ve had so many of them these past two weeks, I hardly pay them any mind.”

  “I mind. You should be resting.”

  “Don’t act like such an old woman,” Elizabeth laughed, though her eyes held a note of worry in their light blue depths. “I’m quite all right.”

  “All the same, let’s get you inside.”

  * * *

  “Do you think she recognized you?” Lucien paced the small roo
m tucked under the inn’s roof. Outside, gusts of wind shook the glass panes and in the distance lightening flashed, the thunder growing closer and louder each minute.

  “I don’t think so or that high and mighty husband of hers would’ve stormed in here looking for us.” Martha removed the plain cloak and tossed it across the bed. Underneath, she wore a simple dress, her hair tucked under a white cap. She looked more like a maid than a baronet’s wife. Shaking out her hair, she congratulated herself again for insisting they take separate carriages and for dressing them both in clothes stolen from the servants.

  “Who knew the little minx would choose to ride through town the moment your carriage arrived.” Lucien leaned against one wall, shuffling a ratty deck of cards before removing the top one and displaying the queen.

  “Then we shouldn’t leave the room. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

  He slammed the cards on a side table. “I’m not staying confined to this hole, not with all these country nobs to make a pound off of. One good game will pay our passage to Italy.”

  “You better stay here.” Martha swiped the cards from the table and they flittered to the floor. “All we need is one of these country nobs running to the constable to tell him we were here. The sheriff will be after us in hours.”

  Lucien threw himself into a wooden chair by the window. “If I’d have known I was going to rot in some country inn for days, I’d have waited in London.”

  “It’s only until tomorrow night.” Martha pulled the cork from a bottle of wine and, grabbing a tankard from the side table, settled down on Lucien’s lap. “I was just downstairs speaking with Lord Malton’s driver. Only took one drink to loosen his tongue. Said the earl and his new wife are attending Lady Upland’s ball tomorrow night. We’ll do it then.”

  “You wicked little minx.” Lucien slapped her thigh then kissed her hard, nearly bruising her lips before pulling back, his small eyes narrowing with a questioning look she didn’t like. “Are you sure we should do this? What if they don’t have anything valuable? It’ll all be for nothing.”

  “Malton’s lord of the manor here. He’s not likely to let his new wife arrive at a ball looking like some poor country relation. Especially since his marriage is already the talk of the village. I heard more than one farmer downstairs discussing it.”