Kate stayed out of the way. They weren’t the least bit interested in her, only the new earl. So she explored the ruin of the manor, poking her nose into endless, devastated rooms, trying and failing to imagine what it might have looked like in good repair. Trying harder, and failing at that, too, to imagine what Jim might have been like, young, headstrong, laughing, running through the halls and tumbling into trouble.
Now and then she couldn’t resist peeking in. Jim seemed to be doing more listening than talking, his head bent their way, nodding encouragement, his face intent. She snatched a word here and there: seed, irrigation, breeding stock, repairs.
Late in the day, as the sun slid rapidly down the sky, the snow turning blue as twilight, she came down the stairs to discover him standing in the foyer by the tall, arched, broken-out window, unmindful of the cold that gusted through, staring down the length of the long driveway as yet another man trudged away.
“Jim?”
“Hmm?” he responded, automatic, distracted.
“How are the roads?” she asked as she came up beside him.
“A bloody mess.” For the first time in weeks, he didn’t slip his arm around her as she stood near. So she did it for him, resting against his side, sliding her own arm around his waist. “We have to leave in the morning, though, no matter what the condition. We’re running out of time.”
“Yes.” His arm came up, heavy across her shoulders, and he sighed. She could feel the stiffness ease from him. Good. “We’ll make it.”
“We’d better,” he said with a new fervency.
“Who were all those men?”
“Tenants.” The cold seeped in, through her clothes, beneath her skirts. She ignored it. “Can’t believe there are so many of them left, but I don’t suppose they had any choice. Better a slice of tired ground, a few lousy walls, than none at all.”
And now they’d all rushed here, hoping against hope, against hundreds of years of Harrington history, that they finally had a lord who wouldn’t drain every last bloody scrap from the estate, leaving them with nothing.
“You’re staying, aren’t you?”
Jim had felt since the day they’d headed for England that Fate had suddenly, belatedly, decided to take his life in hand. What had surprised him was not the turn of events but how little he’d fought it. He should have been kicking and railing and running for the hills.
“Yes,” he said calmly. Perhaps he’d wanted this all along, a chance to make it right. He’d roamed so far and run so hard because he’d never truly thought he’d have the opportunity. He hadn’t been able to save his mother, but maybe he could repair some of the damage his family had done. She would have liked that.
Kate sighed and leaned against him, quietly accepting. Oh, what a gift she’d been to him, that this time had been.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” he said. “They all believe that I can save them. Praying that I can save them. But it might be too late. There’s almost nothing left to work with.”
“There’s only one thing for it, then,” she said. “We’ll just have to win.”
They started out early, both rising while it was still dark, silent, their nerves jittering. By unspoken accord, they left nearly everything there—minutes could make all the difference now. Time to travel light.
The temperature had climbed overnight, the snow melting into a thick icy stew of mud and rapidly shrinking drifts. It was slow, hard going, taking a good twenty minutes to wind their way through the narrow band of trees and across a field to Will’s house. Will’s hut.
It seemed impossible to Kate that a growing family could be living in such a place. Perhaps after seeing her sister Emily’s pitiful claim shack, such things should no longer surprise her. But there were children here, two quiet, shy girls with brown hair who hid behind their mother’s skirts and a bald-headed baby who beamed indiscriminately from her mother’s arms. Too thin, all of them, but friendly and polite, and all so proud of each other it shone from their faces every time they glanced each other’s way.
“You’re leaving?” Will frowned and opened his mouth to argue. Earl or no earl, if Jim needed a talking-to, Will wouldn’t shirk from giving it.
“Only briefly,” Jim said.
“Good.” Will nodded. “That’s good.”
The two men tramped out to the stables—Kate had glimpsed it on the way in, a roughly built shed, nearly roofless—to bridle the mare.
Jane, Will’s wife, stood uneasily near the tiny hearth, her babe on her hip. “Are you hungry?” she finally asked. “I could put on some tea.”
“Goodness, no. We ate better last night than we have in weeks.”
Jane smiled, tentative, hinting at the loveliness she might have carried as a young woman. “We were all pleased to welcome Lord Harrington home.”
“Did you know him? When he was young?”
“Oh, we all knew him.” She chuckled. “Hard not to. He was a busy child, always here or there. Trying to get out of that house, most likely.”
Oh, information! Other than the bits that Jim doled out. “Can we sit?”
“Of course.” She rushed to pull out a chair by the small, scarred table.
“You too.” At Jane’s dubious look, Kate continued: “He may have a title, whether he wishes it or not, but I assure you I have none beyond Mrs. Please, join me.”
She slid into a chair. “It’s good to get off my feet,” she admitted. Behind her, the little girls clattered pots together in a corner that served as the kitchen. The baby sat happily on her lap, stuffing her fist in her mouth.
“May I?” Kate asked, holding out her arms. She could either avoid it completely, or enjoy what she could have. She was going with the second option. Why not begin now?
Jane blinked in surprise. “Certainly.”
The baby was light, swan’s-down light, looking curiously up from her new perch. Her skin was perfect, her hair just a few tufts of near white.
“You do that well,” Jane commented.
“I’ve nephews, a niece.” From the robust appearance of her new brother-in-law, Emily would give her one or two more in the near future as well. And she would spend far more time with them all from now on, she vowed, pride be damned, and her sisters would just have to put up with her. “So what was Jim like as a child?”
Jane smiled knowingly. Ah, so that’s the way of it. “Serious, for all that he seemed to be constantly bumping into trouble. Kind.”
Kate was being horribly obvious. She couldn’t help it. “And his mother?”
“Ah, there was a quiet one. Sometimes you’d hardly know she was there for all she was a countess.”
“His father? Did she love him?”
Jane frowned, her brow furrowing. “What’s to say about that man? She had a fortune, he had a title, their fathers wanted the marriage. That’s often the way of it, isn’t it?”
Kate was no stranger to marriages that were more business transactions than bonds of the heart. So why did hearing it now bother her so much? But it did, coiling in her chest until she had to hug the babe to ease it.
“So she didn’t love him.”
“Who could? The man was—” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“Jane. Please,” Kate said, making no attempt to hide the fact that there was far more than mere curiosity behind her probing.
Jane studied her carefully and then nodded. “All right then. Evil is not too strong a word for him—for the lot of them, really, all the earls up to this one. Have to say he got what he deserved, damn near blowing his own head off because he was too sotted to hold his hunting rifle the right way.”
“And his mother’s death?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer. Could his father have done something like that? It didn’t seem beyond him, from what she was hearing about the man. If only she could call him back and take that rifle to him herself.
“Oh, now there was a sad one. I was young, you understand, but that didn’t mean I couldn’
t hear what was whispered about it.” Her expression pinched. “A sudden fever, it was. Over in a matter of days. But my mum always figured that the countess just couldn’t bring herself to fight it any more than she’d ever been able to fight him.”
“And his—”
The door slammed inward, startling them both, a quick squall of protest from the baby. Will charged in, Jim slung, belly-down, over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
“What happened?” Kate came to her feet in a rush, forgetting the baby in her arms who, startled, began to cry until her mother took her and shushed her.
“Got bit by a spider,” Will said, dumping Jim on his bed below the window. Jim sprawled there, arms wide and limp, out cold.
“But…” She ran to his side, unable to catch enough air to form the words, her mouth opening, closing, without bringing in any air. “There aren’t any poisonous spiders in England.”
“Not for most people, no. But he never could be like most people,” Will said. Jane took charge, handing the baby to her husband, bending over Jim, touching his brow, the side of his neck. “He always reacts like this—”
“Oh, hush, Will, you’re scaring the girl.” Jane straightened, hands on her hips, casting him a disapproving glance. “He’ll be fine. His pulse is fast, his breath a bit labored. Stomach cramps, I’d wager, which I’ll be giving him something for when he wakes up. A few hours rest and he’ll be perking up. By tomorrow morning he’ll be good as new, though I’ve not got high hopes about keeping him in bed that long.”
“I…” Kate reached down and laid her own hand against his neck, needing to feel for herself. Just as Jane promised, his pulse was strong and steady, if quick, his throat warm, sturdily alive. But the way his chest pulled in and out…he coughed, hard enough to double him over, although he didn’t wake. She bent a hard gaze on Jane, demanding the truth. “You’re sure he’s going to be all right?”
Jane nodded solemnly. “I promise.”
Kate longed to plop right down on the edge of the bed and stand watch, measuring every breath Jim took. If something happened to him…her own heart nearly seized in her chest. She wouldn’t consider it. She couldn’t.
“Hmm.” A few hours, a few hours… She glanced around the tiny cottage, more patches than wall, shredded blankets pinned over the windows. She thought of Harrington, the ruin they’d just left, and all those men who came to welcome him home. A few hours.
And she thought of Jim and what she knew he’d say if he could.
“Will,” she said firmly. “Where’s Jim’s pack?”
The Hawk’s Tower, Jim had told her, was built on the highest spot along the entire Sussex coast by the long-ago Marquess of Hawksbury, who liked to look down on all his neighbors. There was no other use for it, a slender column of stone perched on top of a cliff. It looked as if it might blow out to sea at any time, though it had stood for nearly three hundred years.
The small mare proved game, plodding steadily through the sloppy roads. Thank goodness they’d discussed their plans that morning. The tower was precisely where Jim had told her it would be, visible tall and sharp above the trees long before she reached it.
She was not the first one to arrive. A cluster of horses stomped to the right of the tower, a lone one tethered to a tree at the left. Hurry, hurry. She swung her leg over and slid off her mount, yanking off the coat that had felt good when she set out but had become far too heavy with the exertion and the sun.
Those who’d come before her had churned up the soft earth around the base. Kate skidded in the mud, nearly going down as she picked her way across the open ground, her heart beating faster, for no matter how much she hurried it didn’t seem fast enough.
Up close, the tower seemed taller, forcing a painful bend in her neck as she looked up, and up. Thank heavens she wasn’t going up there. Beneath it lies the jewel…
There was no one about as she hurriedly searched the ground at the base of the tower—oh, but her shoes were done for, the mud oozing in the seams. Had they found the clue already? Inside, too, the packed earth floor completely bare, no hint of anything buried beneath.
“Damn.” It couldn’t be easy, could it? Of course not.
She sidled up to the edge of the cliff—too much sea, too much sky. Too easy to sweep her right over it.
She took a deep breath—why was that supposed to help?—and looked down. Way down.
The chalky white cliffs fell away from her feet, the angle brutally sharp. Two ropes, looped around trees at the edge of the clearing, trailed over the edge. Far below curved a thin half-moon of beach, enclosed by two long arms of rock that ran out to sea.
People crawled over the beach, at least a half dozen. Off shore a boat headed in, carrying two figures who pulled hard on their oars. Even as she watched the current caught them, carrying them out to sea as they flailed wildly at the water with their oars.
A shout drifted up to her. Below her the people broke into a run, converging on a spot near the shoreline.
All right. They’d found it. That, at least, took any choice from her.
She briefly considered using one of the ropes already in place. They’d already held someone on the way down; they’d hold her. But their owners would soon be on the way up. If they pulled the ropes up while she was below she’d be stranded.
The trees looked too flexible to satisfy her, so she wound the rope from Jim’s pack around the tower itself. Twice, because Jim had always told her that caution was not fear but wisdom. And then she worried over the knot he’d taught her until she heard distant hoofbeats on the road. She couldn’t let anyone else get ahead of her, there were too many there already.
She didn’t look down. Didn’t look anywhere, except at her precious rope, her hands frozen around it.
The sun might have set as she inched her way down the cliff face, her feet planted against the wall as he’d taught her, her skirts rucked up around her thighs. It took forever. And yet she was surprised when she finally hit the bottom—on her rump, because she hadn’t checked to see how close she was. She groaned and scrambled to her feet, her hands burning, the muscles of her arms trembling.
She spun and hit chest. A very solid one at that.
“Jim!” She blinked, wondering if fatigue could spur hallucinations of senses other than sight. He’d felt very real. “You’re supposed to be in bed!”
He looked a little pale, a color reminiscent of the cliff beneath his tan, his hair clinging damply to his temples. But he stood steadily, smiling at her. “No fun without you,” he said.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Good as new.”
“Good. Remind me to tell you how stupid you are later, when we’ve time to do it properly.” If she hadn’t thought he might tip right over she’d have slugged him. “Did you just watch while I dangled there?”
“Well, part of the time I was climbing down, too.” His smile widened. “You were doing just fine. Didn’t want to interfere.”
“Right past me?”
“Well…yes.”
She tried to scowl at him. He deserved it. But try as she might, the frown kept turning the other way. “Don’t we have a clue to find?”
He held up a curl of paper. “Done.”
Had it taken her that long to crawl down that stupid cliff? “Where are we going?”
“London.”
Thank God, she thought. No cliffs in London. “Where in London?”
“Big Ben.”
“I don’t think I can do it,” she said moments later, her hand on the rope, the vast, sharp cliff rising above her. “My arms are still shaking.”
“That’s why I’ll be right behind you.”
“So we both can fall?”
“Oh, it’ll hold us. I checked the knot on yours before I came down another rope. Good job, by the way.”
“But—”
“Move it, Kate.” He whacked her on the rump. “I didn’t put up with you for all this time to lose.”
&nb
sp; Going up was easier than down. How could it not be, with Jim right behind her, murmuring encouragement, ready to catch her if she slipped. Gasping, she hauled herself over the edge and lay there for a minute until Jim stood over her and extended a hand to help her up.
“I’m not dead,” she said, too tired to be more than vaguely surprised.
“Nope.”
He pulled her to her feet.
“Who…” She started toward the figure she glimpsed kneeling near the ledge at the edge of the trees, breaking into a run when she saw who it was. “What the hell are you doing?”
Knife halfway through the rope, Hobson glanced up at her, then did a double take. “Miss Riley. You look…different.”
She didn’t care if she looked like Medusa. “What are you doing?”
His head jerked back at her tone. Then he shrugged. “There are two competitors still down there. Two ropes. With one less…it’ll get more interesting. Oh, don’t worry!” He held up a hand, all friendly innocence. “There’s no one on there now. I checked.”
“Well, wasn’t that ever so thoughtful of you.”
“The major,” Jim said from behind her, “in France he insisted that not everything had been his fault. I didn’t believe him at the time. But some of the sabotage was you, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, no…” He saw their expressions and gave up, smiling tentatively. “I didn’t do anything dangerous, I swear. Or anything to favor one competitor over another. None of the really bad stuff. That was all the major. I just…spiced things up a little bit. For the readers.”
“Our boat?” Kate asked softly.
“Well, yeah.” His careful smile turned into a leer, nasty and knowing. “But maybe you should thank me for that one, eh, Lord Bennett? I—”
She hit him. Square and sure on his nose. He howled, bringing his hands to his face, eyes screwed shut against the pain. Kate leaned forward to ensure he’d hear her. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she straightened, turning to Jim. “You got a horse?”
“Yup,” Jim said carefully, battling a smile. Lord only knew what Kate might do if he smiled at her now. He pointed at the beautiful, long-legged roan.
A Wedding Story Page 29