The Secrets of Lord Lynford

by Bronwyn Scott

  ‘Nor will they. As of this morning, they are no longer shareholders in the corporation. They have sold their shares to me. That gives me a majority in the company.’

  ‘Detford, you haven’t voted.’ Brenley skewered him with a prompting gaze.

  ‘I only hold five per cent of the shares, so it wouldn’t matter which way I decide,’ Miles prevaricated. He smiled at her as if his abstention was some sort of victory for her. Was it? Was abstention a way of siding with her? She could hear Eaton’s warning in her head. Detford was not to be trusted.

  ‘So, we are to be a board of five, then?’ Brenley challenged.

  ‘Perhaps, or maybe I will sell my shares at some point. Not today, though, and not to you, although if you are jealous of your friends’ profits made in selling to me, I am happy to purchase your shares at the same rate, as well as anyone else’s here at the table.’ That included Detford, who’d not declared his side, more was the pity, but that was not the main concern today.

  ‘Replacing us will strain your resources.’ Brenley glared. ‘We are not so easily bought as these other piddling stakeholders.’ No, they wouldn’t be. Their shares would be expensive, but she did not flinch.

  ‘I am offering to treat you equitably, as I have treated your colleagues, even though you secretly plotted a mutiny behind my back after I have spent years making you money.’ Eliza rose from the table. ‘As the single majority stockholder, I declare that the underwater tunnel will cease once it reaches the ocean and the schools will go forward as planned. This meeting is adjourned.’

  She made it to the door of the Ship Inn before Miles reached her. He placed a hand on her arm as she stepped outside. ‘Eliza, what do you think you’re doing? Did Lynford put you up to this?’

  ‘I put myself up to it, Miles. Since when does a man put me up to anything?’ All she wanted right now was to be with Sophie, with Eaton.

  ‘I’ve never known you to be reckless. Do you think you can simply buy them out and your problems will be solved?’ Detford kept pace with her as she marched up Budoc Lane. ‘Brenley’s right, you can’t buy out the rest of us without breaking your bank to do it. You’d have to sell those shares immediately.’ It was as if a light came on in Detford’s mind. ‘Lynford has investors lined up, doesn’t he? Don’t be a fool, Eliza. He’s setting up to take over the corporation. How long do you think you’d remain in charge?’

  ‘As long as I like,’ Eliza all but snapped. She was done discussing business.

  ‘As his whore? Or will he seduce it out of you?’ Miles snarled. ‘You know that’s what everyone will say. They’ll say Lynford is propping you up because it humours him to let his mistress run mines. What do you think they’re saying upstairs right now? It’s already started, Eliza. They will come after you and this time they won’t play by the rules. You should have pacified Brenley’s coalition when you had the chance.’

  She reached her carriage. ‘Thank you for the advice, Miles.’ She got in and pointedly shut the door behind her, leaving Miles alone on the street. She had much to think about. She’d poked a sleeping dragon and now it was awake and roaring. The meeting had gone as expected. She had what she wanted. But the fight had just begun. By tomorrow, the rumours would start. She had one last day of peace and she would spend it with Sophie and Eaton.

  Eliza leaned back against the leather seat and shut her eyes. Eaton. She should not want him. He would be the undoing of her, perhaps not in the way Miles predicted, but there were other ways to steal her control and undermine the life she’d built. There was no future with him. They both knew it and yet they both continued to pretend it didn’t matter. But it did. When it ended, she would be disappointed. Eliza sighed. Already she knew that word was too mild to encompass what she would feel. Intentionally or not, Eaton had given her a glimpse of heaven, a glimpse of herself, how she might have been if only things had been different.

  * * *

  ‘Mama! Mama! Come see the parakeets!’ They were the sweetest words in the world to Eliza as Sophie tugged on her hand the moment she stepped inside the orangery.

  Eaton emerged behind Sophie, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, a wide, open smile on his face. He’d been enjoying himself. ‘You’re just in time.’ His gaze was intent, lingering on her, looking for signs there’d been trouble. ‘We’re going to feed the birds.’ She smiled, offering reassurance that all had gone as well as could be expected. There’d be time to talk later. Eliza allowed Sophie to drag her off to the aviary, the tension of the meeting rolling off her with each step. Moments like this were what mattered. This was what she was fighting for, to protect Sophie’s inheritance.

  ‘Did the gambit work?’ Eaton asked once Sophie was busy with the parakeets.

  ‘Yes, the coalition was exposed and they were reminded I retain control of the board for now. But Brenley made threats.’ She paused. ‘Nothing we did not anticipate, but I’d hoped it would not come to that. He will say awful things about me, Eaton.’ She watched Sophie hold up a finger for a parakeet to perch on and giggle when it did. She was so sweet, so innocent. ‘I would not want her to hear those things said about her mother.’

  ‘It will not come to that.’ Eaton’s voice was fervent and low. ‘Once we have a new board in place, people will see the truth, I will see to it. Your reputation will remain intact.’

  ‘It’s not your responsibility, Eaton. It’s mine.’ Eliza felt the prickles of Miles’s warning creep up her spine. No, she would not believe that of him. Doubt would only serve Brenley. What would Eaton do with a mining corporation? He didn’t need it. There was no reason for him to take it over. Any more than there was ever a reason to help her, her conscience whispered. Why had he bothered at all? What did he gain?

  ‘Your responsibility alone, Eliza?’ Eaton queried. ‘It doesn’t have to be.’

  ‘Yes, it does,’ she insisted. What could he want? What could ever come of this association? Everything was so much simpler when she’d just been a patron of his school, a faceless widow who wrote cheques, who didn’t know how handsome the Marquess was or how persuasive. This conversation was fast becoming about more than managing the board. This was about managing them—this relationship. Did one night in his bed constitute a relationship, or had that relationship existed long before they’d made love?

  ‘I thought we’d settled the bit about being alone.’ Eaton offered her a devastating smile. ‘Can we argue about this later? I promised Sophie we’d pick oranges for tea. But I’d like to continue this discussion tonight?’ She heard the invitation in that. She ought to decline. Accepting would make it harder to leave.

  Just one more night, she promised herself. Then it would have to be over and she would be alone again. The lines of demarcation were clearer that way. She’d had just the smallest taste of how easily it could all slip away if she indulged herself with him. To blur those lines was to blur her priorities. Eaton could not be one of them, no matter how much she wanted him to be.

  Chapter Seventeen

  One more night. One more night of torturing himself with a glimpse of what might have been, showing himself what could never be. Eaton would take it, whatever its guise. Sophie finished playing the spinet in the parlour and went up to bed, Eliza with her, while he waited downstairs with a glass of brandy. It was a fatherly, husbandly thing to do. Not for the first time he thought how different things might have been if he had not gone into Kilkhampton that day fourteen years ago. He might never have contracted the measles, might never have been stripped of his ability to reproduce. He wouldn’t be faced with losing a woman he loved.

  Up until now, the consequences of his infertility had been a theoretical concept. Certainly, he had agonised over what it would mean for his life as he grew older, how it shaped the choices he would make. That theoretical concept had become more real with Richard Penlerick’s death and the overt pressure put on Vennor to marry. Now, with Eliza, that reality was complete.
There were no more hypothetical dimensions to it. He’d met a woman he loved. A woman he wanted to marry. A woman who wanted children. A woman he couldn’t have.

  ‘Are you thinking about Richard Penlerick? You seem sorrowful.’ Eliza entered the parlour.

  ‘In part,’ he offered. ‘I was thinking of you and Sophie and how much like a little family we’ve become.’ He gestured for her to join him on the settee.

  ‘You’ve been good to her. She likes you.’

  Eaton played with the stem of his brandy glass. ‘And her mother? Does her mother like me?’ Eliza was beautiful in firelight, the flames catching her chestnut hair.

  ‘Her mother is very thankful for your support in this difficult time. You didn’t need to give it and I fear your kindness has been repaid by dragging you into the quagmire.’ Eliza’s hands were tight in her lap. She was nervous. ‘I think it might be time to leave. I don’t want to be the guest who overstays her welcome.’

  ‘Leave? Now? You can’t leave now, not when you’ve just got control of the board. What about your school?’ This was the worst possible time for her to leave—unless this wasn’t about business but about them. Knowing he had to let her go was one thing. Actually letting her go was another.

  ‘I control the board whether I am here or in Truro. The shareholders don’t need me to be here for them to take their places. I won’t see them in person until the next quarterly meeting, assuming I survive Brenley’s character assassination.’ It was coolly said, but for the first time, Eaton saw how worried Eliza was.

  ‘You will survive it,’ Eaton assured her. ‘Why wouldn’t you? Brenley and the others will sell out before long and walk away because they won’t be happy once your new board members are in place. You simply have to wait them out, let them save face. You can afford to be a gracious victor.’

  ‘I don’t control the community. Even if I win this battle of wills, I wonder if it will be enough? I’ve wondered all day if I should have taken Brenley’s deal. I wonder even now, at the eleventh hour, if I should write to him and accept the offer, as much as it would gall me to do it. Still, it might be better than what is to come.’ Better than having her name dragged through the mud if Detford’s information was right. Better than having Eaton’s name dragged there, too. He deserved more for his assistance than a scandal. She’d been a poor investment to repay him thusly.

  She gave him a sad smile. ‘Victory at what price, Eaton? At the price of my good name? At the price of a scandal my daughter will hear of?’

  ‘Is that why you’re so anxious to be off to Truro? You want to avoid Brenley’s next barrage?’ Eaton drew her to him, wrapping her in his arms and tucking her head beneath his chin in the hope of giving her comfort. ‘There’s the principle of the matter, too, Eliza. If you accept Brenley’s offer, you would be letting dishonest men win.’ Eaton paused, allowing her to digest that piece.

  ‘I can have peace. That is no small thing.’ She sighed against his chest. God, he loved having her in his arms.

  ‘But what of the miners? What peace will they have when Brenley pushes the tunnel out into the ocean at their risk?’ He had her there. He could feel her tense in his arms, another reminder of how multifaceted the fight was and how she was the shield maiden for so many. Perhaps it was for that reason her answer surprised him.

  ‘I may reach a point very soon where they will have to fight for themselves. I can’t hold up the world for ever.’ There was a new weariness in her tone. ‘Please don’t talk to me about ethics and principles, Eaton. I know I should fight for them.’ She looked up at him, her green eyes filled with regret. ‘But Sophie needs my protection, too. At some point, a parent doesn’t have the luxury of fighting for ethics. If I have to choose who to protect, I’ll choose Sophie.’

  But who protected her? Eliza Blaxland manned the wall of her defences alone. She needed a protector, an ally. He stroked her hair, his thoughts wandering down tangled paths. How could he make this right for her? How could he protect her and Sophie so that Eliza could fight?

  ‘Does my choice disappoint you?’ she asked, her eyes searching his face.

  ‘No, it makes you honest.’ And smart and brave, all the things he’d come to admire about her, love about her. It was not the first time he’d associated that word with Eliza. He loved her strength, her independence, her fierceness, her willingness to sacrifice everything for those she loved, and perhaps that meant he loved not only the characteristics that made her who she was, but he loved her, too.

  Temptation whispered, You can protect her. You can marry her, give her the protection of your name and your station. Save her mines, ensure her reputation, be a father to Sophie. Marriage to her gives you everything you’ve ever wanted.

  But it gave Eliza nothing. She would resist. She’d made her position on marrying clear. He would have to put it to her carefully and at the right moment. This was not that moment. She was too conflicted, too uncertain. His offer would look like charity coming now on the heels of her fear. And he’d have to tell her his secret, something he didn’t discuss even with his close friends and family. They knew, of course, but he hadn’t been the one to tell them. He had to tell Eliza. She had a right to know what marriage to him would cost her. It would cost her dream. Telling her might very well cost him his. He could lose her over this and that came with fears all its own. But loving Eliza demanded he take the risk. He’d not told a woman about his condition, ever. There’d never been a need to. How did one go about divulging dark truths and shattering dreams and hope to emerge intact? But those were discussions and considerations for another, better, time.

  ‘Don’t give in, Eliza,’ he whispered. ‘It will be all right in the end, I promise.’ He would move heaven and earth to make it so. He’d created a school for Cade and Rosenwyn. Surely he could do at least as much for the woman he loved.

  She smiled softly, something moving in her eyes. ‘I shouldn’t let you make impossible promises, but I don’t want to think about it any more tonight.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want to forget everything for just a little while. Do you have a remedy for that?’

  Eaton grinned. ‘I might. If you’d come with me, there’s a place I know.’

  * * *

  She should not use him for escape, but it was hard to remember the reasons why as she reclined on the pillows in the orangery’s antechamber, watching him disrobe. This little room had become their refuge, the place where the world could not touch them, where she was entitled to give her fantasy free rein. Eaton strode towards the bed, gloriously nude, all broad shoulders and muscled thighs, like a wild pagan god of old, desire heating his eyes with a fierceness that made her tremble. How phenomenal, how thrilling, that this man wanted her and how wicked that she should want him, too, with the same fierceness. Tonight she needed the pulsing, thrusting pleasure that drove one towards oblivion.

  He came to her and she drew him down, bringing his length against her until they were skin to silk, her nightgown already sliding up her thighs, already revealing her eagerness, her desire. She welcomed him. His eyes reflected her own hunger. She was hungry to forget the day, hungry to recapture the passion that had flared to life in this room, hungry to be touched, to be cherished if even for a few moments.

  ‘Tonight you are Breasal, the Celtic High King, come to earth.’ She nipped at his earlobe, whispering the fantasy from Cornish folklore. ‘You’ve come to claim a mortal maid for your pleasure.’

  He gave a husky laugh, his hand running up her thigh, bending her knee. ‘I will hope for better since his kingdom is only visible one night in seven years.’ He kissed the inside of her leg, working up her thigh with his lips. ‘Perhaps I am the mere mortal and you are the fairy Aeval, come to command my sexual favours.’ He kissed the crease of her thigh where it met with the entrance to her private core.

  ‘Hmm. I like that.’ She stretched, cat-like,
letting the warm thrill of him spread through her. ‘I always thought the story of Aeval’s midnight court was rather decadent, but secretly inspiring, that a woman might, nay, should command her own pleasure. Indeed, even hold a man accountable for it.’

  ‘And did you? Command your own?’ Eaton asked, his eyes dangerously feral as he kissed her navel, working his way up her body, heat following in his wake.

  ‘Absolutely, or I would have had none.’ She locked gazes with him, answering his look with one of her own just as wild, letting the implication settled on him. Married to Blaxland, she’d been responsible for her own pleasure alone in the dark after he’d claimed his rights. She’d never begrudged him that, but she begrudged knowing that there should be more, that perhaps she was entitled to more.

  ‘And the holding-a-man-accountable part?’ He sucked at her breast, drawing out a nipple with his teeth until she gasped.

  ‘Only you.’ She smiled wickedly.

  He answered with a grin of his own. ‘What does my Fairy Queen command of me this night?’

  She shifted her hips, widening the span between her legs. ‘Your Queen commands that you take her, swift and fast, that you drive her into pleasure’s oblivion until the sun rises.’ She kissed him hard on the mouth, reckless with desire and need, and he answered with a savage hunger that mirrored her own. She felt him move once and then he thrust deep, a bright spear that splintered her core. Yes, this was exactly what she needed. She gave herself over to it, knowing that oblivion awaited.

  * * *

  But so did the morning. Even Eaton’s exquisite lovemaking could not hold back the sun, nor could the pleasure of waking in his arms, her body tucked against his, override the troubles of the day. She was no nearer to any resolution than she had been the prior evening. She and Brenley were still at odds and viciously so. His threats still loomed like ghosts on dawn’s horizon waiting to take shape. But larger still was the issue of leaving Eaton. This had to end and she would have to end it. The longer she stayed, the more unfair it was to both of them. There was no expectation of a future, but there were feelings. How did one navigate the end of an affair neither party wanted to end? Last night had solved one need, but created others. If she wasn’t careful, she would fall in love with Eaton. Maybe she already had. Maybe that was why she was still here.