Her door opened, and she turned to find Laura there with a tray.
“Good morning,” Ava said as the maid placed the tray on the table by her fire and poured her tea.
“Good morning, Lady Ava.” Laura glanced at her as she arranged Ava’s breakfast carefully. “Are you well this morning?”
Ava tensed at the worry in her tone. “After so short a time, it seems you know me very well judging by the way you phrase that question.”
Laura shrugged. “You only appear tired, my lady. Is there any way I can offer assistance?”
Ava stared at the food, unwanted with her stomach fluttering from everything that had happened in the past few days.
“How long have you served this house?” she asked, watching Laura carefully.
The maid drew back a little and folded her arms in front of her. “I—well, I became Lady Matilda’s personal maid a year before she came out. Before that, I served for three years, so…ten years now.”
Ava’s heart leapt. “Then you must know a great deal about the family, about the duke himself, after working here for so long.”
Laura’s expression faltered a little. “Yes,” she whispered. “I have been privileged to know this family well.”
Ava felt for the girl. She could only imagine how close she had been to Matilda. And all servants feared being sacked on some level, even if they weren’t employed by a mercurial sort such as Christian.
And yet Ava asked her questions…
“I realize it puts you in a difficult position, but I truly only wish to…to help Christian,” Ava said, hoping and praying that this girl would see the truth in that statement. “And I fear he will not allow me to help him if I approach him directly.”
“How do you wish to help him?” Laura asked with a questioning tilt of her head.
Ava rubbed her eyes. “Surely you have seen the damage the battle between our families has done. I have as well.”
“You mean, I suppose, your brother’s injuries,” Laura asked, tone carefully neutral.
Ava nodded. “Yes, but the damage is much deeper than the physical. I see Christian’s pain beneath his anger. I would like to ease that pain if I can. I would like to leave him with some kind of legacy of healing before I go. But I simply don’t have access to the information that would help me.”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Laura pressed.
“I have, and I have been surprised by how open he can be.” Ava wrung her hands. “But you know him. He fears pity. He fears betrayal. And I need more than he is ready to give at this time.”
Laura turned away from her, and Ava could see the struggle on the maid’s face.
“I hate to do this, I hate to ask you to betray any confidences. But I assure you, I would do everything in my power to protect you should you be so kind as to help me,” Ava insisted.
Laura bit her lip as she looked at Ava, and then she slowly dipped a hand into a pocket in her dress. She withdrew a key there and held it up.
“This…this is the key to my lady Matilda’s chamber. The duke keeps it locked, but I am allowed to go in once every fortnight and tidy it, clear it of dust. Perhaps if you were to visit there, you might find the information you seek.”
Ava’s heart leapt as Laura held out the key to the room. Certainly a visit into the private sanctum of Christian’s beloved sister would give her more information.
“If the duke finds you there, he will be furious!” Laura insisted. “And I could be—probably would be—dismissed.”
“I promise you, I will be discreet,” Ava swore as she took the key and pressed it to her heart with her palm. “And if I am caught, I will say the key fell from your apron. I will accept full blame for anything that happens.”
Laura nodded, but her face was still pale. “Give it back to me once you have finished your search.”
“I will.” Ava stepped forward and enveloped the girl in a brief hug. Laura remained stiff in her arms, so Ava stepped back to give the girl space. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Laura said and took the empty tray. “Good morning, Lady Ava.”
She slipped from the room, leaving Ava alone. Ava looked again at the tea and light pastries that had been left for her and could not bear the thought of sitting to eat rather than racing off immediately to conduct her investigation. She took one sip of tea, then stepped from the room and moved down the hall to the locked door that hid the chamber where Matilda had once led her life.
Ava stared at the door. If Christian found out what she was doing, Laura was probably right that he would be enraged. And yet she couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to stop herself. Because she knew whatever was behind that door would tell her even more about Christian than she knew already.
She slid the key home into the lock and heard the telltale click. She drew a deep breath, opened the door and stepped into the room.
Stepped into a shrine was a truer statement.
The room looked as if someone still lived in it. The curtains had been drawn back, letting in glorious light throughout and revealing how the bed was neatly made with what were obviously clean sheets. A freshly pressed gown hung on the outside of a wardrobe, as if the occupant of the chamber would be back to dress at any moment.
On the dressing table, lines of lotions and powders were arranged, along with a few brushes and pretty, decorative combs. There was even a book open on the end table next to the bed and a half-used candle.
Ava shivered and forced herself to step farther into the room and shut the door firmly behind her. The room was so silent, so still that it felt a bit tomb-like. It actually took courage to continue her journey inside.
“You are here for a reason,” she murmured to herself, as much to hear something in the silence of the room as to remind herself. “Don’t lose your nerve now—look around.”
With a shiver, she moved to the dressing table first, where she sat down. The chair was very comfortable. She looked in the mirror where Matilda had spent time every day, probably multiple times a day, as she readied herself for her life. Ava saw her own reflection and tried to picture what that other girl’s thoughts might have been as she looked at her face each day.
Was she afraid of the future? Lonely? Did she approve of her brother’s continuation of the family war? Or did she hate it with every fiber of her being?
There were two miniatures in frames along one part of her dressing table, and Ava lifted one. It was of a woman, probably Christian and Matilda’s mother, judging from the eyes, the expression. The other was of Christian, but not the angry, broken Christian of today. This portrait was of a young man with a wicked half smile and eyes that were bright with promise. He looked young enough that it was probably painted before his father’s death.
Before he had been duke, before he had taken over for all his family’s important matters, including their wars.
“How I wish I’d known him then,” she whispered and knew how very true it was. If they had met then, if they had never known each other’s names…well, things might be very different.
She started at the thought. Started at the notion that they could…be together, even in a universe that did not and could not exist.
She set the miniature aside and placed a hand on one of Matilda’s drawers. What she was about to do was a terrible invasion, but it was necessary. She opened the drawer and looked inside. There were a few pieces of jewelry and a selection of blank paper, but nothing else of interest.
She sighed as she closed the drawer and got up. Laura had said she might find something she sought by coming to this room, but so far there was nothing of great interest to catch her eye or teach her anything about a lady lost or a gentleman wrapped in a cocoon of anguish.
She paced to the wardrobe and opened it, but there were only clothes within, even as she pushed them around to be certain they weren’t hiding more. The drawers below were the same, only stockings and underthings there.
With a sigh, Ava moved ove
r to the bed. The book that was open there was a volume of Byron. She lifted it to see which poem Matilda had last been reading but was distracted by what she found beneath the book. Hidden there was a small bound notebook, a pencil tucked into its pages.
Ava’s heart began to pound as she set the Byron aside and picked up the other volume. Slowly, she opened it, praying it wasn’t merely lists of things to buy or people to whom to write letters.
But the moment she turned the first page, she sank down to sit on Matilda’s bed, utterly engrossed. It was a journal and the very first line read, I have often lamented the fact that I am not allowed to fight my family’s battles simply because I am a woman.
Christian paced his office, restless. In truth, he was beginning to feel like a prisoner in the room, locked away because he did not want to see Ava.
Or…he wanted to see her too much.
After seeing how hurt she was by the blurb about her kidnapping in the Society pages, after recognizing that he needed to begin to distance himself from her because their time together was so limited… Well, all those facts addled his mind.
The most discomfiting thing was how he wanted find her, to wrap her in his arms and tell her all would be well. That he would find a way to protect her, to save her, to make up for what had been done.
Only there was only one way to do that…marriage. And that was utterly out of the question, considering her name and family. And, of course, his own feelings on the matter.
Whatever those were.
He cursed and slammed the tip of his cane against the floor. If she had come here to make his life a dizzy frustration, she had certainly succeeded! He might think she had done it on purpose, only she had been the one kidnapped and ruined and had no part in orchestrating the time that she had been in his control.
He scowled as he moved to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. He tipped it back, but as he swallowed he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
He had avoided mirrors since the accident. Seeing himself as a hollow shell of what he had once been gave him no pleasure. But now, he looked…changed. More alive than in months. There was a light in his eyes.
He set the drink down and scrubbed a hand over his face. Ava was getting to him. She was beginning to wend her way past the barriers he threw up between them and into his soul. With her touch, with her kiss, but also with her light spirit. With how she challenged him.
“There is only a short time more,” he muttered to the man in the mirror above him. “Are you willing to throw it all away?”
The man in the reflection shook his head, and Christian pivoted toward the door. He would find Ava, he would make love to her all afternoon and he would worry about the longer-term consequences later. He had earned that, hadn’t he?
He moved up the stairs slowly, but with slightly less pain than that action usually caused him. At the top of the stairs he was about to turn toward the guest quarters in the hopes of finding Ava in her room, but something from the opposite wing of the house caught his eye.
He turned toward the family areas and frowned. There was a door open in the hallway. Not his door, where his servants might be airing out his linens or tidying his space. No, this looked like his sister’s room.
But that couldn’t be. Matilda’s chamber was kept locked except on a very rigid schedule of light cleaning. Her door should not have been open.
He forgot Ava for the moment and moved down the hallway, fists clenched at his sides. He was trying very hard to keep his anger in check, but the fact that someone was in his sister’s chamber was the ultimate act of violation.
He turned into the room, ready to scold a wayward maid or rail at a footman, but he stopped short. There, sitting on his sister’s bed, her back to the door and reading what appeared to be a handwritten journal, was Ava.
He stepped into the room and slammed the door behind him.
She jolted at the loud bang and staggered to her feet to face him. All the color drained from her face as she met his eyes, and the guilt that altered her normally open and friendly expression angered Christian even more.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he barked.
She swallowed. “How did you know I was here?”
“I saw the light coming from the door into the hallway,” he explained.
She shook her head. “But I—I closed that door.”
“To hide your disgusting intrusion from the world, I assume?” he asked.
She flinched. “Christian,” she began.
He held up a hand. “This room was locked. How did you get in?”
She moved her gaze away from his. “Laura is serving as my maid—”
“Laura gave you the key?” he roared. “That—”
“No!” she interrupted, moving a quick step in his direction. “It fell from her apron pocket today. I was curious about it and thought I would try this door, your sister’s door. I was shocked when it worked. I swear to you she did not betray you.”
There was a flutter to her voice, a way she would not look at him that made him doubt the veracity of her statement. But Laura was another subject to be dealt with at another time. At this moment, it was only Ava who held his ire.
“Of all people,” he growled, “of anyone to break my sister’s privacy, that it would be you makes it even worse.”
She flinched. “Because I am part of the Windbury family.”
He nodded.
“And that is all you see when you see me, isn’t it?” she pressed, tears suddenly filling her eyes, though she blinked them away admirably. “You cannot bring yourself to look outside that fact.”
“Why should I?” he said with a shake of his head. “Why did you come here? Why did you search her room except to uncover more evidence to use against me? Or to laugh at what I’ve lost?”
“You idiot,” she said, coming toward him with unexpected bravery considering how angry he was. Grown men had been less bold.
“Be careful, Ava,” he whispered.
She ignored him. “I came here because I am curious about her. About you. And since you refuse to share anything with me of value beyond a few tantalizing morsels of your past, I thought seeing the room of the person you loved most would shed some light on who you are and how I can help you. There were no ulterior motives, Christian.”
“Just to help me,” he said, both moved by and wary of her statement.
She nodded.
He speared her with a look. “And that, I suppose, is why you are holding what appears to be a private journal of my sister’s?”
Chapter Nineteen
Ava flushed as she shoved the journal behind her back. Not that it would help, as Christian had already guessed what it was. But he didn’t know what it said, and she was fairly certain it would hurt him greatly if he ever found out.
“Give it to me,” he insisted, holding out a hand. His jaw was set with anger and infuriation.
She stepped back and held her ground even though his expression made it very hard. She hated that he was looking at her with such accusation. As if they had shared nothing since he snatched her away and changed her life.
“Christian, if you haven’t read this diary by now, why would you do so at this point?” she asked, tone gentle.
He shook his head. “How would I have known about it? You must have searched this room far and wide to find a secret such as this.”
She wrinkled her brow. “It was sitting on Matilda’s end table, Christian, only placed beneath a volume of poetry. I do not even think there was an intention to hide it, so there was no search involved on my part.”
He frowned and for a moment exasperation was replaced by confusion on his handsome face. “That—that cannot be true. When Matilda died, I had this room torn apart trying to find proof of her thoughts, of her heart.”
“You were injured…perhaps the servants did not search as thoroughly as you asked,” Ava offered.
He frowned. “I highly doubt it. Sanders led the search hims
elf and he would not betray me by lying. No matter what my state or his thoughts on the matter.”
Ava shook her head as she tried to wrap her mind around this information. If it was true, that meant Matilda’s journal had been placed where she found it, probably somewhat recently. She had no idea how or why that would happen.
In truth, she wasn’t certain she cared. After all, there were much deeper issues to be faced.
“Christian, I don’t know why this book was not found during your initial search. But perhaps that was for the best. Your sister’s private thoughts and feelings weren’t meant to be shared with you.”
His face darkened with anger, anger equal to that she had seen there over the years when he looked at her brother. Only this was directed at her, and it cut her to the bone.
“As if her thoughts were meant for you,” he breathed, his words clipped and short. “You are the last person she would have ever wanted to steal her confidence.”
Ava dipped her chin. His words hurt her in ways she never would have imagined he would be capable of a short time ago, but what was worse was that he would not let this go. He would demand the book, take the book—there was nothing she could do about it. She could not protect him.
“I’m so sorry to have your hate turned on me, even after everything we have meant to each other,” she whispered. Slowly, she came around the bed between them and held out Matilda’s journal with shaking hands. “This is yours, of course. I only hope it will not break your heart.”
He glanced up at her, concern lining every angle of his face, but he took the journal. He stared at the leather cover, then opened it. Immediately, he buckled, leaning on his cane for support. And though she felt a distance between them she had not experienced since her arrival, she stepped forward and offered a hand to steady him.
“Come sit by the window,” she said softly, motioning to a comfortable chair that was flooded by natural light.
He allowed her help him and sat down. She paced away to the fire and stared into the flames, knowing that Christian might be as destroyed by what he was about to read as one of the crackling logs in the fireplace. And there was nothing she could do now to prevent it.
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