Summers' Embrace

by Lora Thomas

  “You did,” Elena said through sobs. “You silly, silly girl. You should not go out without me. I forbid you to do so again.”

  “Catrina!” Victoria said, racing to her. She wrapped Catrina in her arms. “Do not give me such a fright again.”

  “She got lost, Mother,” Elena said.

  “I am fine,” Catrina said. She pointed to the room. “I mistakenly thought these were our chambers.”

  “Whose room is that?” Victoria questioned, hostility in her tone.

  Catrina shook her head. “I do not know. No one is there. It looks unoccupied.”

  Douglas and Mr. Ingram approached, both breathless.

  “Thank heavens you have been found,” Douglas said.

  “It is a blessing,” Mr. Ingram chimed.

  “Whose room is that?” Victoria said. “Room three hundred and two.”

  Mr. Ingram looked at the door. “One of Lord Huntsley’s rooms.”

  Victoria’s eyes widened as a flash of heat went over them. “Lord Huntsley’s.”

  “Yes. He insisted upon renting the room beside his for privacy.”

  “So, no one resides in that room?”

  Mr. Ingram shook his head. “No, Mrs. Paxsley. It is empty. What happened, Miss Wilcox?”

  “I took a walk. When I returned, all the lanterns had been extinguished. I get lost so easily. I could not find my room. I felt the door numbers and mistook that as my room.”

  “I feel responsible for what occurred, and I cannot have that happen again. In the future, I will make certain at least one lantern per hallway will stay lit.” Mr. Ingram motioned his hand to a porter. “Go locate the others and inform them that Miss Wilcox has been found.”

  “Yes, sir,” the porter said and raced away.

  Victoria looped her arm through Catrina’s. “Come, child. Let us get you back to our quarters.” She looked at Mr. Ingram. “Thank you for your vigilance in helping to locate Miss Wilcox. It is greatly appreciated, and when we return to London, I will tell everyone I know of your concern for your guests.”

  Catrina responded, “Truly, Mrs. Paxsley. I was in no danger. Just lost.”

  “Lost or not, we cannot have you harmed. Just imagine the outcome should you have walked into a bachelor’s room. You would have unknowingly soiled your reputation by spending a night with a man who was not your husband. We cannot have that. We simply cannot.”

  “No, we cannot,” Catrina whispered, trying to hide her guilt and shame.

  Thomas crested the dune on the beach. Several people were walking up and down the beach, calling for Catrina. Damn! Did anyone see them? If they did, then both of them would have some explaining to do.

  “Huntsley!”

  Thomas turned and spotted Joshua and Artie approaching.

  Hawke stopped by Thomas. His eyes roamed over Thomas. “Have you come to help with the search?”

  “You know he has,” Artie said, a knowing smile.

  “What is wrong with both of you?”

  “Come off it, Huntsley,” Artie said.

  “Off what?”

  “We know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Dammit, Huntsley,” Hawke said. “We saw you slipping Miss Wilcox from your room.”

  “Shit,” Thomas mumbled.

  “Just be glad we’re here,” Artie defended. “If not, then the entire beach would have seen you swoop her over the banister.”

  “Artie had to make a damned fool of himself by pretending to faint.” Hawke swatted Arthur’s shoulder.

  Artie shook off Joshua’s hand. “It was not fainting, you idiot. I claimed to be having heart spasms.”

  “Either way, he rolled down the dune and across the beach like a fool.”

  “You owe me,” Artie told Thomas.

  “For what?” Thomas said.

  “My pride. Dash it all. I have a reputation to maintain as a sensible businessman. I purposely made myself look like a fool to save Miss Wilcox’s reputation.”

  “Last night, you were practically begging me to marry the chit.”

  “Not by causing her fall from grace,” Hawke said. “You did not cause her to fall from grace…again, did you?”

  “No. Nothing happened,” Thomas defended as Hawke snorted in disbelief.

  “Then what was she doing in your quarters?”

  “She got lost and mistook my room for hers. I awoke to find her sleeping in my bed.” Thomas quickly added, “But nothing happened between us…last night.”

  “Too bad,” Artie said, not catching the pause.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, if she had been found in your bed, then you would have had to marry her and not Lady Iris.”

  “I told you why that will never happen. She is the sister and ward of Branson Wilcox, a bloody sod who I despise. And he hates me worse. If I had bedded her on the dining room table in front of every resident in Eden, he would never allow me to marry her. Not to mention, Iris and I come from the same circles. She knows our ways.” A deflated breath left him. “And she is carrying my child.”

  “Shit,” Hawke mumbled.

  Artie’s mouth fell open. “You are joking.”

  “No. That is why she tracked me down here. To inform me before people began suspecting her condition.”

  “And when did she tell you this?” Artie asked.

  “That is why I asked to speak to her father.”

  “Convenient,” Hawke mumbled. “She confessed that sin shortly after she saw you with another woman. A rival.”

  “Are you sure she is?” Artie asked.

  “Are you sure it is yours?” Hawke inquired.

  “I have no reason to believe she would lie to me,” Thomas defended.

  “You have one hundred thousand reasons for her to lie to you,” Hawke snapped. “And her father is nearly destitute. Not to mention, you were not her only caller.”

  “Nonetheless, I will speak with her father, and we will wed by the end of the month.”

  “No.” Hawke crossed his arms over his chest with determination.

  “I will,” Thomas said sternly. “It is the honorable thing to do.” So would marrying Catrina be, his inner voice chided.

  “Honorable? She is a lying shrew. Have you not heard one word I have told you about her?”

  “Information that was given by Miss Wilcox’s closest friend. How do I know that her information is correct? That she is not trying to get me to turn my eye to Catrina?”

  “When did she become Catrina?” Artie asked.

  “Dammit, Thomas!” Hawke defended. “You see what she is doing? Lady Iris does not care for Artie or me, and you are already taking her side over ours. Your friends. We would never lie to you, Thomas. We would never want to see you forced to do something that you do not want to.”

  “What would you have me do, Hawke? Allow her to have a child out of wedlock? Even if I claimed the child, it would still be labeled a bastard and be rejected by society. I could not do that to my own child.”

  “No, I am not that cruel.”

  “Who says it is yours?’ Artie voiced.

  “Then what? If you have a plan, tell me,” Thomas demanded.

  “I have a few connections. Allow me to use them,” Hawke supplied.

  “What sort of connections?” Thomas warily asked.

  “Nothing of the illegal sort. Servants. Allow me to place one of my servants in her home.”

  “A spy?” Thomas said.

  “If you want to call her that, then yes.”

  A deflated breath left Thomas as he looked back at the hotel. The turmoil caused his green eyes to darken. He was in a conundrum. He needed to marry, but he did not want it to be Lady Iris. However, he would not leave his child to face the condemnation of society.

  “I still need to marry, Hawke.”

  “Fine. Marry your maid. Marry a wench. Hell, marry Artie’s sister—”

  “Hey,” Artie protested.

  “Just do not marry Lady
Iris. She makes you miserable.”

  “And why are you just now telling me this?” Thomas inquired.

  “Because I—”

  “We,” Artie added.

  “We hoped you would come to your senses without us having to knock it into you.”

  A conciliatory breath left Thomas. “Fine. Place your spy.”

  Hawke smiled. “Good.”

  A porter topped the dune. “She’s been found!” The boy raced past them, running down the beach, shouting, “Miss Wilcox has been found!”

  The trio looked at the boy.

  “Well, that is solved,” Hawke said. “No one saw her.”

  “Good.” Thomas kept his eyes on the boy. “When can you get a servant into Iris’s home?”

  Hawke puckered his lower lip. “As soon as we leave here. Why?”

  “Sooner. Next week.”

  “We will still be here.”

  Thomas shook his head. “No. I have decided to take my leave.”

  “Why?” Artie asked. “You have not enjoyed all there is to enjoy.”

  “Eden has been too much of a headache for me.”

  “So, do you plan on investing?”

  Thomas nodded and looked at the hotel. His lip twitched with the knowledge that Catrina was inside. “Yes. Despite my better judgment.”

  “Splendid!” Artie proclaimed but added, “Why do you not seem enthused about the notion?”

  Hawke patted Thomas on the back. “You look like you could use a drink.”

  “It is eight in the morning!” Artie said.

  “So it is. And what better time to get foxed,” Thomas said, glancing at the hotel one last time, wondering which room was Catrina’s. Stop it, he chastised himself as a tightness entered his chest. The sooner he left Eden, the better.

  “Mr. Wilkerson,” Branson called from the doorway of the carriage house.

  The older man stuck his head out from one of the stalls but did not approach. “Yes, Mr. Wilcox?”

  Branson looked around. “We need to talk.”

  Mr. Fredrick Wilkerson swallowed nervously. Had Mr. Wilcox discovered that he had been drinking on the job? He tried to hide his habit, but sometimes it was hard. The butler, Andrew Winston, lectured him about his need for whiskey. But dammit! If he didn’t take a drink from time to time, his hands would shake, and he couldn’t think.

  “Mr. Wilkerson!” Branson boomed. “Come here.”

  “Coming, Mr. Wilcox,” Fredrick said, nervously approaching. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  Branson did not answer but turned and began walking. Fredrick followed Branson, wondering what was about to happen.

  “If I have done something wrong, Mr. Wilcox, I apologize and will do what’s needed to make it right.”

  Branson did not speak as he walked. He did not stop until they were a reasonable distance from the barn, near an old oak tree.

  “You have been with my family for a long time,” Branson said.

  “Yes, sir. Nearly twenty years now.”

  “And during that time, did my father ever question your loyalty to him?”

  Fred shook his head. “No, sir.”

  “During that time, did he ever give you an order that you refused to follow?”

  Fred swallowed nervously and blinked. “No, sir.”

  “Really? Even on the night they were killed?”

  Fred opened and closed his mouth several times. “No, sir.”

  “Think hard, Mr. Wilkerson.”

  “I don’t recall any order.” He could not tell Branson that he was driving Mr. and Mrs. Wilcox’s carriage drunk that night. He would hang.

  “Father did not tell you not to drink that evening?”

  “I…uh—”

  “Father did not adamantly stress the importance of you remaining sober while he and Mother were at that ball?”

  Mr. Wilkerson shifted his weight between his right and left leg. “Well, he did—”

  “And when their carriage went over that bluff, you were the only one to survive. But, oddly, no one could find you until two days later. Why is that?”

  “I…I…um, that is—”

  “You were drunk that night, were you not?” Branson said, his voice menacing.

  Fred dropped his head and nodded. “I didn’t mean to be. It’s just if I don’t drink, my hands shake.”

  “So, you admit that you were intoxicated that evening?” Branson did not have proof, only a theory. And if his theory was correct, then he had the answer to his Catrina issue.

  Tears pooled in Fred's eyes as he nodded. “Yes, sir. I didn’t mean to do it. They told me to hurry because of Miss Wilcox. I knew I was drunk but didn’t tell them. I knew they needed to get home. Please don’t terminate me, Mr. Wilcox. I know I can’t make this right, but I won’t drink no more.”

  A vindictive sneer pulled at Branson’s mouth. “Oh. I do not plan on terminating your employment. I have a much, much more important job for you.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

  If this plan worked, Branson would get all that he desired and more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Catrina stared out the carriage window, a knot in the pit of her stomach. After Thomas slipped her into his unoccupied room, she never saw him again. He and Lord Hawke departed Eden later that afternoon. The following day, Lady Iris and her mother left. The Paxsleys stayed on for another week, despite Elena’s insistence that they return to London immediately so she could pursue Lord Hawke. Mrs. Paxsley refused to leave and for the remainder of that week at Eden, Elena moped. To keep her troubled mind from Thomas, Catrina aided Mr. Heath with his mirrors. After three days, they finally found the correct position to perfectly capture the light for reflection. It was a short-lived moment, for a storm came that evening and broke three of the mirrors.

  The carriage hit a rut in the road, causing Catrina to turn her attention to the countryside. They were nearing London, and the landscape was changing. More homes began dotting the roadway. More people were seen walking and milling about. They would be at Elena’s home within the hour. Catrina should be excited about the new activities in which she was about to partake. The London Fall Season. A season full of balls and plays. Of carriage rides and teas. Except she knew what was to come of her time here. Nothing. Braxton would be in London in three weeks and then take Catrina home. Home to an unknown husband.

  “Is it not exciting?” Elena said. “In three days, we are to attend the Hamlin’s luncheon and in five Lady Hamilton’s ball.”

  A weak smile came to Catrina. “Yes.”

  “What is the matter? You have not said ten words since we left Eden.”

  Catrina shook her head. “Nothing. Just tired is all. I did not sleep well the night before we left.”

  Elena leaned in and whispered. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with the fact that Lord Huntsley is in London, as well?”

  “I am,” Catrina replied coldly. “If you must know, I am saddened at the notion that Branson will be here in three weeks.”

  “Oh, I forgot about that.”

  Constance rolled her eyes. “Of course you have. All you have mentioned for the past month is Lord Hawke. He is the only thing you think of anymore.”

  “Constance,” Victoria scolded.

  “Sorry, Momma.” Constance shot a snide look at her older sister.

  “Now, no more talking,” Victoria said. “I want to enjoy these next few minutes in quiet.”

  “It has been quiet the entire carriage ride,” Elena said.

  “I know that, Elena. I just know what awaits upon our return—constant chatter regarding balls and fetes.”

  “Honestly, Victoria. You sometimes act like our daughters are a chore,” Douglas jested.

  She rolled her eyes and swatted playfully at his leg. “I will deal with you when we get home.”

  Douglas chuckled and gave his wife a teasing wink.

  The carriage ride to the Paxsleys’ residence went by quickly. Upon exiting the coac
h, footmen and servants swarmed them and began unloading the trunks. Catrina followed the family inside. Douglas stopped in the foyer and picked up the mail from the table.

  “Any invitations?” Elena asked, snatching the letters from her father’s hands.

  Douglas took the papers back. “If I come across any, I will give them to your mother. Now run upstairs and help unpack.”

  “But, Poppa,” Elena whined.

  Douglas kissed the top of Elena’s head. “Run along now. If I should find any correspondence from Lord Hawke, I will notify you.”

  Elena smiled and raced up the steps.

  “Catrina,” Victoria said. “I will have Beatrice’s room prepared for you.”

  Catrina shook her head. “There is no need to make a fuss over me.”

  “No fuss, my dear. You have spent the last three years with Elena. I thought perhaps you might want a room of your own for a bit.”

  Catrina smiled. “Thank you. That would be lovely.”

  “I will not tell Elena if you do not,” Victoria whispered to Catrina. “I love my daughters but know that we women need a bit of time to ourselves.”

  “That is most kind of you, Mrs. Paxsley.”

  “Please, call me Victoria. Now, come, I will take you to your room.”

  Catrina followed Victoria to Beatrice’s old chambers. The olive-green mantel went strikingly well with the cream walls. Beside the fireplace was a small table with two delicate ivory chairs. A floral printed canopy and matching coverlet adorned the four-poster bed. Thick rugs cushioned her feet.

  “It is lovely,” Catrina said.

  Victoria patted Catrina’s hand. “I will let you get settled. If you need anything, just ring.”

  The footmen delivered Catrina’s trunk. She did not wait for a maid to unpack. She needed something to occupy her mind. Something to do to take her thoughts away from Thomas. Once unpacked, she left the room and went downstairs. Before she found the parlor, Elena came bounding down the stairs.

  “She’s here!” Elena exclaimed.

  The door burst open before Catrina could ask, “Who?”

  “Elena!” the petite brunette at the door said, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around Elena.

  Catrina studied the newcomer. She looked remarkably similar to Elena, leading Catrina to assume this was Beatrice.