The Forgotten Marquess

by Jane Charles

“I am so glad I was able to catch up to you.”

  “We were afraid we’d be chasing you all the way to Cornwall.” Sophia emerged from the carriage.

  Alarm shot through Tristan. They’d left London not five hours earlier. What could have happened in such a short amount of time that had his sister and her husband chasing after them?

  “It’s Jamie,” Scala announced. “A message arrived just after you and Lady Jillian left London. Thank goodness we’d already prepared to travel today as well.”

  Lady Jillian stepped from their carriage and came to join Tristan.

  “What about Jamie?” she asked and glanced to Tristan. “Your youngest brother?”

  “Yes,” Scala answered. “He’s been arrested for horse theft.”

  A chill skated down Tristan’s spine. “Jamie is many things, but he is not a horse thief.” It was not a claim to make lightly and if convicted, his brother would hang from the gallows. “Who brought such a charge?”

  “Lord Bowerton,” Sophia answered.

  “Everyone knows that Bowerton is a cheat and a liar,” Tristan objected.

  “Yes, that’s what we’ve been told,” Sophia said.

  “Regardless, the accusation cannot be ignored,” Scala insisted. “Mr. Culling, his friend, I’m to understand, swore an affidavit that Jamie had taken the horse.”

  “Where is he now? Jamie?” Tristan demanded.

  “Wyndhill Park,” answered Scala.

  Tristan expected his brother-in-law to name Newgate, or perhaps a jail close to Newmarket, but not the home of Elaina’s brother.

  “Does Jamie have any witnesses to speak for him?”

  “Gideon.”

  Bloody hell. Tristan thrust his fingers through his hair. Gideon left for Scotland weeks ago and nobody had heard from him since. This day had just gone from bad to worse.

  “What of Harrison? Has he returned to London?”

  Sophia shook her head.

  “I’ll ride to Wyndhill Park and see what I can learn,” Tristan said after a moment.

  “Wyndhill Park?” Jillian asked. “Isn’t that the home of the Earl of Garretson?”

  “Yes, it is,” Tristan answered absently. “Why is he there and not in jail?”

  “Too many doubt the accuser,” Scala answered. “The magistrate agreed to Garretson’s request that Jamie remain under arrest, but in his home, until this matter could be brought to trial.”

  “When was the theft supposed to have occurred?” Tristan demanded as he tried to come to terms with what needed to be done. At least his brother was currently safe.

  “Supposedly last year. It was not winning and Bowerton was in need of funds. Jamie purchased the horse, changed the training, and the horse won the first race it was entered in this spring.”

  “That’s when Bowerton decided he wanted the horse back,” Tristan concluded with irritation. “As Bowerton probably couldn’t afford to purchase the animal outright, he made a claim of theft.”

  “Because of the length of time between the theft and claim, and the coincidence of the horse losing and now winning, the magistrate is being lenient with the treatment of Jamie until all the parties who witnessed the sale, or have additional information, can be brought forward.”

  “Thank goodness for a reasonable magistrate,” Tristan blew out. “I’ll first travel to Portsmouth to see if Harrison has returned, if he has, I’ll send him to find Gideon and bring him back. If Harrison has not returned, I’ll leave him a letter and go on to Wyndhill Park to see what I can learn.”

  “Do keep us posted when you receive any news,” Sophia begged. “We’ll travel onto Cornwall in case Gideon has returned home. It would be just like him to have done so and not informed us to avoid London.”

  “I will. I promise,” he assured his sister.

  It took them over a day to reach Portsmouth and even though Tristan and his wife spent the night at a coaching inn, he arranged for separate rooms. The following morning, Jillian sulked in the corner of the carriage for the remainder of their journey and Tristan found he didn’t particularly care. Jamie’s life was far more important than worrying about if his wife was happy.

  Unfortunately, Harrison was not at home and neither Harrison’s footman nor housekeeper knew when he’d return. After spending the evening in his brother’s lodgings, Tristan wrote a letter to his brother and prepared to travel onto Wyndhill Park.

  “I’d prefer you return me to London,” Jillian insisted over breakfast.

  “I’m not returning to London. I need to see how I can assist my brother.”

  “Then take me to your estate and I’ll await you there while I plan our wedding.”

  “I am not going to travel extra days to take you to Cornwall only to return to Wyndhill Park. My brother has been accused of a serious crime and that takes precedence.”

  Jillian pursed her lips. “We’ve been married but two days and already you care more about your brother than you do me.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to agree with her and admit it was likely he’d always care more for his family, as his and Jillian’s marriage was far from a love match. “My family is extremely important to me. Something perhaps you should have taken into consideration before you kissed me.” He reminded her of how they had come to be in this situation. “Therefore, I will not be returning you to London or taking you to my estate.”

  She sucked in a breath at his harsh words, but Tristan had very little patience.

  “We are married, Jillian. However, my duty is still to my family and one is in danger of hanging from the gallows, so forgive me for any lack of tenderness in my words.”

  Her eyes widened as her bow lips parted. This might be the first time that Lady Jillian wasn’t given her every desire, or doted upon, and it wouldn’t be the last. She may be his wife, but Tristan had difficulty even feeling the friendship he’d once possessed for Jillian. Those emotions had been quashed when she’d intentionally trapped him in marriage. Honor was what bound him to Jillian, not love or affection.

  “Well, if you won’t take me back to London, or to your estate, I will remain here.” At that, she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You will go to Wyndhill Park with me. You are my wife.”

  At that, she raised an eyebrow. “In name only.”

  Tristan’s face heated, but this wasn’t a discussion either of them were going to have now. “I can’t leave you here, alone.”

  “There is a footman, a housekeeper, and my maid. I’ll hardly be alone,” she sniffed.

  “I’d have you with me. I am your husband and Wyndhill Park is more to what you are accustomed.”

  Harrison’s set of rooms were pleasant, more so than most bachelor homes, but it wasn’t nearly as elegant as her father’s home, Tristan’s estate and especially Wyndhill Park.

  “I’ll remain here.”

  He’d thought Elaina was stubborn, but it appeared that his second wife suffered from the same unpleasant trait. However, where it had been an irritation that often led to a passionate encounter with Elaina, the same personality flaw wasn’t the least bit appealing on Jillian. “What do you have against Wyndhill Park? Has the Earl of Garretson offended you somehow?”

  “The Earl of Garretson is your brother-in-law, brother to your former wife.”

  “Yes, but I don’t understand your objection.”

  “I have no desire to be reminded of your past.”

  “You’ll be reminded of it when we return to my estate, as I have two children waiting for me.”

  “It’s unlikely they even remember their mother,” she dismissed. “It’s not the same.”

  Her words were like a knife to the heart. In fact, neither his son nor his daughter remembered Elaina since Jonas had only been two and Eloise one when they had sailed. It was a wonder they survived the storm. If not for the nursery maid and Elaina’s maid, Tristan could have very well lost his entire family in one horrible tragedy.

  “I don’t wish to sit there wh
ile you and your in-laws reminisce over the past. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll remain here and wait for your return.”

  Tristan didn’t have the patience, or the time, to argue with his wife. Instead, he tossed aside his napkin. “As you wish.” He stood. “I’ll send word when I have news.” Without a backward glance, Tristan left Harrison’s set of rooms. They’d traveled in two carriages. One for him and Jillian and the other for the servants and luggage. He left his personal carriage for her use. If Jillian wished to return to London or continue on to the estate, she’d have a means to do so, though Tristan hoped she didn’t continue onto Cornwall without him since he needed to prepare his children for their new mother.

  “Clive is a good man,” Rebecca stated while she and Elaina pulled weeds from the flower beds.

  “You shouldn’t be helping me in the garden,” Elaina said, ignoring Rebecca’s statement.

  “Before I married my husband, and before he was a colonel, I spent many hours in a kitchen garden and caring for a home. My life was simple, and I enjoy this.”

  “Your husband won’t like it.”

  “You know that isn’t true,” Rebecca argued. “And, I’m done letting you change the topic. Clive is quite taken with you, Elaina, dare I say in love, even if he hasn’t voiced the words.”

  Which made the decision even more difficult because she didn’t love Clive. Elaina had a deep fondness for him, but not love. Should she marry someone without love?

  “He’s also quite wealthy, as you know.”

  Clive owned warehouses near the Braye Harbour and had made his fortune in privateering and smuggling. Yet, even after the war, if it ever ended, he’d have a means to continue to increase his funds as he planned on returning to the merchant trade.

  “He also owns a fine brick manor and employs a number of servants. You’ll never need to weed a kitchen garden again,” Rebecca continued.

  Yes, her life would be easier as Clive’s wife, not that it was difficult now. “Those are not reasons to marry.”

  Rebecca grasped Elaina’s hand. “I don’t want to see you lonely and I know you have a fondness for Clive. Perhaps in time love would grow.”

  Clive had mentioned growing old and lonely to Elaina yesterday, and it was not something she wanted. Nobody wanted to suffer such a fate.

  She settled back on her heels.

  Clive was a good man. A kind man, and handsome, and she suspected he was not much older than herself. But, how could she allow herself to care about someone else when she didn’t know if a husband waited for her.

  “You could be a widow and holding onto what might have already been lost to you.”

  Elaina didn’t want to think that her husband was gone, but what other explanation could there be? Who would she have been traveling with if not a husband?

  Oh, she did care for Clive. More than she should if she did have a husband somewhere. Was she denying herself a happy future because she had no answers? Was it right to just let her past go and accept her future? What were the chances she’d ever leave this island again and find out who she truly was?

  “Have you spoken with Pastor Morgan?”

  He was the one person Elaina hadn’t broached the subject with because she believed she already knew his answer. If there was any chance that Elaina was married, she’d be committing adultery by taking another man, even if she never saw or remembered her husband again.

  But maybe that was the answer she needed. The answer everyone needed so that they’d stop pushing her to make a decision and maybe Clive would quit asking her to marry him. Nobody could argue with God’s law.

  Except, that would also leave her to be alone.

  Elaina didn’t want to be alone and even though she couldn’t remember what she had experienced in the past, she did long for strong arms to hold her close and a chest to rest her head upon. Clive offered that comfort. Did she dare accept it?

  Chapter 4

  It had been twelve days since Tristan left Lady Jillian in Harrison’s set of rooms. He had returned twice to check on her welfare, but she didn’t need him and seemed quite content to sit within the parlor and stitch or read. Such an existence would have driven him to madness, nor could Elaina have withstood such inactivity.

  Once again it was a reminder of how different his new wife was from his former.

  At first it was difficult being at Wyndhill Park, but not as difficult as when Tristan told Garretson that Elaina had been declared dead and the circumstances that brought it about.

  “To Wellington!” Micah Sinclair raised his wine glass in a toast. Just two days earlier, Napoleon had been defeated at Waterloo and as soon as the word reached them, the mood of worry for Jamie’s future shifted to one of celebration. However, Tristan found it difficult to be happy about anything, given his brother could still hang for being a horse thief, and he had a wife waiting on him who was not Elaina.

  If only he could take back those last words between them. The argument, the likes of which they’d never experienced in their marriage, perhaps he wouldn’t feel so guilty. He hadn’t even kissed her goodbye or assured her of his love before he left, and he’d never have the opportunity to do so again.

  That’s what was the hardest, he supposed. And now he had to face the fact that she was not ever going to return to him. Something he’d been unable to do for three years. He just hoped he could adjust by the time it came for him to be a husband again.

  “I can’t believe I was so reckless. This would have never happened when I was younger.” Tristan tossed back his brandy.

  “You are simply out of practice,” Garretson dismissed. “At one time we were both skilled at avoiding misses intent on making matches. I still am.” Garretson grinned.

  Lucian Sinclair, the Earl of Garretson, was Elaina’s older brother and held on to his bachelor state as if it was the most valuable of his possessions. Of course, Garretson also had four younger brothers so there was no fear that his title would not live on after he passed. Unless none of them married or produced an heir, but the odds of such an occurrence were unlikely.

  Silas, the youngest, stared at Tristan with compassion. “We don’t blame you.”

  Tristan wasn’t certain if Silas was referring to his new marriage or that he’d had their sister declared dead.

  “We all waited and hoped that Elaina would return home. None of us wanted to believe that she was gone, but it has been over three years.” Silas glanced at Garretson. “Even we gave up hope after a year.”

  Garretson nodded. “It wasn’t easy and as much as my heart hopes that my sister will return, my mind is more rational.”

  The remaining brothers nodded.

  “We all wanted Elaina to come home.” Jamie set his glass aside. “She is gone, Tristan, and I know that it pained you to sign the documents declaring it so, but you still have a future.”

  A future with Lady Jillian. A future he’d not wanted for himself.

  “You have a new wife now, and even if it’s not as you wished it to be, perhaps you can find peace,” Garretson offered.

  Was there a way to find peace?

  “Resenting the circumstance for the rest of your life will be an unhappy existence,” Xavier offered.

  Tristan looked around the table. They couldn’t understand. None of them had been married. They may have lost a sister, but nobody was asking them to replace her like they were asking Jillian to replace Elaina.

  “Besides, it will be good for my nephew and niece to have a mother,” Garretson added. “Even if it can’t be Elaina.”

  Tristan prayed that Jillian was a good mother, but she was only twenty, and a privileged, spoiled young lady. What did she know about mothering and did she even wish to learn? Perhaps that was his greatest fear of all—that he’d bring his new wife into the home and she’d want nothing to do with his children, or worse, scorn them. Jillian hadn’t wanted to come to Wyndhill Park because of the reminder that Tristan had a previous wife. How could he trust that she wo
uldn’t hold the same resentment of being reminded daily by two children?

  “Are you returning to Portsmouth soon?” Garretson asked.

  “I suppose I should since it’s been a sennight since I’ve visited Lady Jillian.”

  At the movement by the entrance to the dining room, Garretson rose from his seat. “Good evening, Lord Gideon. I’m so glad you’ve finally arrived.”

  “Have you come to rescue me, dear brother?” Jamie asked just before he took a sip of ruby red wine.

  Thank God Gideon had returned. Now they could hopefully put this matter of Jamie stealing the horse to rest and behind them and return home. “It is good to see you, Gideon.”

  A footman placed a dinner setting before the empty seat beside Jamie.

  “Do join us,” Garretson insisted.

  “What do you need from me?” Gideon asked after taking a seat.

  “It is not I, but the magistrate. His requirement is either your testimony or a bill of sale. It’s not as if anyone actually believes Bowerton, but the accusation couldn’t be ignored either,” Garretson explained.

  Gideon nodded. “So, there will be a trial?”

  “I’m afraid so. Bowerton was adamant that no agreement took place and insists that any testimony from you could not be trusted as it’s your brother who is accused. He was not happy with the decision to wait until you were able to testify.”

  Gideon frowned. “There was no misunderstanding. Bowerton offered to sell the horse, Jamie agreed to purchase it for the price demanded and the two shook hands.”

  “Was the bill of sale signed at that time?” Garretson asked Gideon.

  “No. There wasn’t one to be had. It was to take place at the Jockey Club. At least that was my understanding.”

  “Which it did,” Jamie insisted. “I have no explanation for why the purchase was not recorded in the books.”

  “Was anyone present when the bill of sale was prepared?” Gideon asked his brother.

  “Mr. Culling, who happens to be Bowerton’s closest friend, but he claims it did not take place,” Jamie answered.

  “And therein lies the dilemma,” Garretson explains. “The word of four gentleman, who claim two different circumstances, and no evidence to support either.”