by Jane Charles
Upon his return to Wyndhill Park, Tristan went directly to Elaina’s chambers, except she wasn’t within. After enquiring into her whereabouts, nobody could claim to know where she was. For a moment, he stood on the terrace wondering where Elaina had disappeared to and then he remembered. She was probably in her favorite reading spot.
Elaina had to get out of the manor. After she’d dressed for the day, her maid had busied herself in Elaina’s set of rooms and Elaina got the impression that she was being supervised while she sipped her tea waiting for the woman to be done.
How long did it take to make a bed and put a nightshift and wrap away? Then she went about dusting when there wasn’t a speck of dust within either room. With irritation and knowing that she’d not get any privacy, Elaina picked up the horrid Radcliffe novel and requested a fresh pot of tea. As the maid did her bidding, Elaina set the book aside, retrieved the last journal and, hiding it wrapped in a shawl over her arm, left the manor and made her way directly to the folly where hopefully she’d be left in peace.
The only person she passed on her way was Lucian. “Escaping?” he asked.
He did know her well. “I’m in need of fresh air,” she admitted.
“Escaping watchful eyes,” he countered. “Not that I blame you,” he whispered. “Run along to your folly, I’ll not let anyone disturb you.”
Her older brother did understand and wasn’t nearly as irritating as she’d written.
As soon as she reached the folly, Elaina curled up in a seat and opened the journal.
“I was wondering if you’d find them.”
She gasped and looked up to find Lucian leaning against the entry. He’d followed her. Perhaps he was still an irritation. Then she realized what he had said. “You knew about these?”
He nodded.
“Have you read them?”
“No, though I’ve been tempted.”
Elaina narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“I feared that your romance with Pierre had progressed beyond kissing, given your mourning of him.”
Elaina’s face heated. “It hadn’t.”
“I realize that now, not that there was anything that could have been done, but I worried about you then. Deeply worried,” he admitted.
“I truly was heartbroken,” she admitted. “But I think it was more that I romanticized our circumstance, two people in love, torn apart by war and country…” she rolled her eyes. “Very Romeo and Juliet,” she laughed.
“At the time I had hoped that was the case, but feared it was more, with reason.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I must have been quite vexing to be around then.”
“At times,” he smiled. “But you were my sister and I only wanted what was best for you, but wasn’t mature enough to know what that was.”
He’d been her guardian. Only two years older than herself but was tasked with her care.
“You did well, Lucian.” She grasped the book. “Are you going to take this away now, or tell Xavier?”
Lucian shook his head. “They are yours and I’m not going to censure your reading.”
“Even if it could bring on a bout of hysteria?” she teased.
“As you’ve been reading them for the past two or three days and seem quite well, I remain unconcerned.”
She gaped at him. “How did you know? Did Tristan tell you?”
He chuckled. “Your husband tells us nothing, much to Xavier’s aggravation. I came to the conclusion on my own because there is no other circumstance that would keep you in your chambers for so long. Certainly not a Radcliffe novel, as you claimed.”
She snorted. Lucian did know her better than she gave him credit.
“My question is, have they helped return your memory?”
She shook her head. “As I told Tristan, it’s like reading a novel, someone else’s life, who just happens to have the same names as my family, husband and friends.”
Sadness dawned in his eyes. “I had hoped…”
“So had I, but I’ve still gained much from reading them. This is the one I’ve been most anxious to read.”
“Why is that?”
“I believe it contains my courtship with Tristan.”
Lucian frowned. “When did you write in it last?” The concern in his voice was the same as Tristan’s.
“I’m not certain,” she admitted. “I’ve not skipped to the end of the book.”
“Perhaps I should...”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what everyone is trying to hide, but Tristan already checked the dates and concluded that no harm will come from me reading to the end.”
Lucian’s shoulders dropped as if relieved. What were they all afraid of her discovering?
“Enjoy and for your sake, I hope that your writing was as lively as that stage in your life.”
With that, he left Elaina pondering what he meant before she decided to read for herself.
* * *
I had no hope that there’d be any excitement today, given that I couldn’t very well move about yet. My ankle is still swollen and painful and bruising has developed on the side. The colors are rather interesting. At first they were dark but now it’s beginning to turn brown. I tried to match the colors in a painting but failed to portray them accurately and gave up.
I then suffered through the calls of three gentlemen who are not worth naming. They’d heard of my injury and came to bring me flowers and read more dreadful poetry, and I had resigned to suffer through the most horrible afternoon. Then, Lord Trent called to inquire as to my health and my ankle.
I really thought I’d not see him again though wondered if he’d secretly continue to watch me.
At least he didn’t bring poetry, though flowers would have been nice. However, with Lucian’s permission, he presented me with a book, as he believed it would help occupy my time since I was unable to move about.
It is not well done for a gentleman to give such a gift, especially when he barely knows the lady and there are no thoughts of a betrothal, but Lord Trent thumbed his nose at Society rules and I was so grateful. That is, until I opened the package and read the title The Italian by Mrs. Radcliffe. I hope I hid my reaction because it was very kind of him to go out of his way and bring a book to me. It isn’t his fault that he has no idea how strong my dislike is for this particular author.
We spent a pleasant afternoon, I thanked him for the gift, and promised to read the novel as my ankle healed. It was a lie, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Though in all honestly, I would have preferred he’d written me bad poetry.
* * *
Elaina laughed and turned to the next page.
* * *
I long for this ankle to heal. It has only been a few days but being sequestered in this townhouse as if I’m an invalid is more than I can stand. Not only is there little to hold my interest, but I’m missing a ball this evening. A ball that I know Lord Trent will be attending.
He will probably dance with any number of misses seeking a husband, and they’ll flirt with him, bat their lashes and giggle, just as the misses do around Lucian.
They may have him for one dance, but he called on me again today. At first I was quite shocked when he demanded that I return the Radcliffe book to him. What kind of gentleman demands a gift back? Then he admitted that he hadn’t been aware of my dislike of Radcliffe until Lucian told him earlier in the day. With that knowledge, Lord Trent had returned to the lending library and obtained a book he was certain that I’d enjoy much more and presented me with The Lords of Erith by Catherine Manners. I’d heard of the novel but had not yet had time to obtain a copy for myself.
I think a part of me may have fallen in love. What kind of gentleman would correct his error so quickly? I can think of no one of my acquaintance who would go out of their way to do such a thing and his actions have quite warmed my heart. It would be warmer still if he were here with me and not dancing with every available miss in London.
* * *
&n
bsp; Elaina sighed and turned the page.
* * *
“Am I winning you over yet?”
She started at Tristan’s voice and couldn’t control the smile that came to her lips, so happy to see him.
Chapter 24
“Well, you did save my life and then purchased a novel for me to enjoy while my ankle healed.”
Tristan winced. “The first book?” Maybe she hadn’t read past the first book,
“The second,” she grinned and leaned in. “Very scandalous to give such a gift when we hardly knew one another,” she whispered as delight danced in her green eyes.
“I wanted to make an impression on you,” he admitted. “I knew that other gentlemen would bring flowers and such. Those die, but a story, once read, remains with one forever. And, if it was a particularly good book, then perhaps you’d recall me fondly as you reflected on what you’d read.”
“I think I’d recall you fondly each time I saw a horse,” she laughed.
His heart had nearly stopped when he’d witnessed Elaina trip and fall in the path of an uncontrolled Arabian.
“You’ve not read very far.” What she described were the first events, the beginning of their courtship. He’d hoped that she’d read further.
“The maid wanted to straighten my chambers. Then she wanted to dust. Truthfully, I think she was snooping. I escaped as soon as I could and came out here.”
Tristan settled into a chair.
“Lucian found me, however,” she confided.
Alarm rose. “He caught you reading the journal?”
“Yes.” Then she described their discussion. “He promises not to tell Xavier, and like you, doesn’t see any harm.”
With those assurances, Tristan relaxed and placed the package on the small table.
Elaina’s eyes lit. “What is that?”
“A gift.”
“For me?” She grinned with delight. The same expression their children had inherited when excited or presented with a gift. It made his heart ache that the four of them were not yet together. He needed them to be a family again and enjoy the happiness they’d once shared. Of course, Jonas and Eloise had been so young that they had no memory of that time any more than Elaina. His wife had already missed so much of their young lives and Tristan didn’t want her to miss any more.
“May I have it?” She reached out, but Tristan pulled back the gift.
“Not until you’ve finished your journal.”
At that she pouted. “I promise to finish. After all, it is my favorite story.”
Tristan supposed she was correct. Elaina was not going to stop reading the journals until she’d reached the end of their story, which coincided with the beginning of their marriage.
With those thoughts, he handed her the package.
Elaina pulled the string away and unwrapped the brown paper then gasped. “Books!”
“I recall how much you enjoyed Sense and Sensibility before you sailed to France. These two, by the same author, were published after you were gone.”
“They were?” She hugged them to her chest.
“Do you recall reading Sense and Sensibility?” If she did, then perhaps some of Elaina’s past was returning to her.
But, as the light dimmed in her eyes, Tristan knew.
“No. I don’t recall reading the book.”
“I wasn’t certain if you had a chance to read on Alderney, or what selections were available, but I can return them if you’ve already read them.”
Elaina studied the titles. “Mansfield Park and Emma. No. I have not had the opportunity to enjoy the stories.” Then she glanced up at him, warmth in her green eyes. “Thank you.” She titled her head. “Have you made it a habit to buy me books?”
He chuckled. “I learned early in our marriage that you would prefer a book over a necklace as you have no need for unnecessary adornments.”
She blinked at him.
“You own jewelry, and there are a few pieces that you adore. However, you saw no need for costly purchases when there were family jewels enough that you could wear when a situation called for more formal attire.”
Elaina rubbed the base of the fourth finger on her left hand. “Did I have a wedding ring? There was once an indent, when I first awoke, as if a ring had been there?”
“Yes, you did,” he answered.
“Oh dear, was it very expensive?”
He chuckled and was about to answer but stopped himself. “We had a discussion at length about your ring and jewelry in general. If you’ve not written about it, then I’ll tell you, but you must finish your story first.”
She groaned. “Sometimes you are frustrating.”
“So we’ve established,” he chuckled. “Except, you shan’t read about it now as we are to ride.”
Her eyes widened. “Has it gotten so late?”
“Merely the afternoon.” Tristan stood and offered his arm.
Elaina followed, gathering her journal and books with her, then frowned, before she wrapped the journal within her shawl to hide if from prying eyes.
As much as Elaina enjoyed riding, especially since she hadn’t done so since the ship, her mind was on her journal. Eager to read more of Tristan’s courtship and their love. Even though her first impression of him had been poor, Elaina was also beginning to understand why she may have fallen in love with him. His kindness exhibited after her injury and what she had witnessed since her return to England were enough to make her heart warm now.
Tristan was also an excellent horseman and she much enjoyed his control of the Arabian. She’d fallen behind intentionally so that she could observe the strength of his thighs and his hold on the reins as he raced Asher across the fields. Her husband: handsome, strong, kind and compassionate. And even though Elaina still did not have the memory, she did realize that she’d been lucky to be the one who caught his attention and hadn’t lost him due to her audacity in the beginning.
He also treated her with respect and had yet to condescend to her, unlike her brother.
He trusted that she knew what was best for herself. Further, he held no secrets. At least none that weren’t harmful. It was the ones he was afraid to tell her, what everyone else insisted that she must come to on her own that caused worry. Yet, when she had remembered on her own, nothing had been terribly upsetting, so perhaps what awaited her about her marriage wouldn’t be either.
Yet there was a niggling of doubt in the back of her mind and in her soul that there was something very important being withheld from her. Pertinent knowledge that affected who she was, but Elaina couldn’t begin to comprehend what it may be, and she wasn’t certain she wished to know.
Oh, this was so exasperating and whenever thoughts, doubts and fears became too strong, she pushed them away, as there was nothing that could be done to alleviate her concerns since neither Tristan, nor her brothers were going to be forthcoming.
As soon as they’d returned from their ride, Elaina excused herself, claiming that she needed to rest. Xavier nodded in approval while Tristan and Lucian each had a mischievous glint in their eyes. They knew what she was about. Further, they approved.
I have to admit; I was quite thrilled when Lady Esther called on me this afternoon. She politely inquired after my health before launching into her complaints about the bachelors in attendance this Season. We’d had similar discussions in the past and this is also her fourth Season. Whereas Lady Esther is quite concerned that she’ll never marry, I’m very content to wait. Marrying for the sake of marrying did not bring happiness and could lead to a miserable life.
At first, she complained about Lucian, which wasn’t a surprise. I’m certain that the friendship I share with Lady Esther is due to my relation to the Earl of Garretson. Further, I suspect the same of all my friends. However, they’ve failed to realize that if my brother were to ever consider marriage, I’d be forthcoming as to the qualities of each friend, including the ones who are not particularly positive. After all, whomever Lucian decides
to marry will be my sister-in-law, and as I’ve yet to secure a husband for myself, I’ll also have to live with her and I’m very particular about who I wish to spend vast amounts of time with.
However, I digress. As I listened patiently to Lady Esther complain, not just about Lucian, but the others as well, she named Lord Tristan Trent. That was a name she’d never mentioned in prior discussions and I became quite interested.
“We all assumed that he’d have no interest in anyone else after the way he watched you last Season.”
I hadn’t even been aware that anyone had taken notice except myself.
“But, when nothing came of his infatuation, we assumed his interest had waned.”
Infatuation? I’d hardly call it such.
“Then he rescued you in Hyde Park and has started to call on you.”
People really needed to mind their own business. What did it matter who called on me?
“As you would unlikely be attending any functions due to the unfortunate circumstances of your ankle, we all assumed that Lord Trent would enjoy dancing with the rest of us, as he’d done since the Season began. Miss Melanie was quite hopeful of gaining his attention.”
I’d never cared for Miss Melanie. She’s called often but whenever she learns that Lucian is not at home, she leaves almost immediately. If he is in residence, she stays far longer than anyone else in hopes of seeing him. Perhaps I should tell her that as long as I’m entertaining eligible misses and ladies, my brother will continue to hide in his library for fear of being forced to engage in polite conversation with any of them. Whenever the first caller is announced, Lucian always says that he is retreating to safety and to advise him when all have left.
Now that Miss Melanie wants not only Lucian but also Lord Trent, I find I like her even less.
“Did she?” I finally asked, almost afraid of the response.