Candice Hern

by The Regency Rakes Trilogy

  "Emily, please." Bradleigh had moved to his wife's side and placed an arm around her, frowning over her head at Jack. "Calm yourself, my love. Remember your condition."

  "My condition? My condition? What about poor Mary's condition? Is there no one among you fine gentlemen willing to go after her? She might be in trouble. She might be injured. She might be—"

  "Oh, yes, please," Mrs. Bannister interrupted. She moved forward toward the gentlemen, gripping her hands in front of her in a plaintive gesture. "Please. Someone must go after her. She may have—"

  "She was not abducted, ladies," Jack said with a sneer. "She left in her own carriage with her own maid and her own luggage. And of her own free will. It was her decision. There is no need to go haring after her. And at the moment that is the last thing I intend to do. Frankly, I don't care if I never see the woman again."

  "Jack!" his mother exclaimed.

  "Oh, but you are a scoundrel after all," Emily said through her teeth. "Don't you know how fragile Mary is? How hard she worked to put all that unpleasantness behind her? Don't you realize how meticulous she has been in maintaining that mask of cheerfulness? And something ... something happened to cause that careful mask to crack. But what? What is she running away from? Or whom? What did you do to her, Jack?" she shouted. "What did you say to her?"

  "Emily, please," Bradleigh said, tightening his arm about her and scowling furiously at Jack. "I am taking you to our bedchamber. I won't have you upset like this. Come along, my love." He steered her toward the door, her determination to stay no match for his superior strength.

  "Scoundrel!" she hissed over her shoulder as they left the room.

  When the door had closed behind them, Jack spun angrily around. "Always the scoundrel, am I not?" Meeting the confused yet incensed eyes of Mrs. Bannister, he fixed her with an irate gaze. "That is what you think as well, is it not, ma'am? It is all my fault. Dear, sweet Mary can do no wrong. I am the villain," he said as he stabbed a finger against his chest. "I am at fault. I am somehow to blame for Mary's unconscionable behavior, am I not?"

  Mrs. Bannister chewed on her lower lip and said nothing.

  "Well?" Jack shouted. "Is that not what you think, ma'am? Is that not what you all think? Well, to hell with all of you. And to hell with Mary."

  Mrs. Bannister turned and fled the room without a word.

  Edward turned on Jack, an angry glare in his eyes, and grabbed him roughly by the arm. "Get hold of yourself, boy!"

  Jack shook off his uncle's firm grip and stared at him with undisguised anger.

  "Damnation!" Edward said and then stormed out of the room.

  "Et tu, Uncle?" Jack muttered. He turned toward his mother. Her face was pale, her shoulders slumped. "Well, Mama?"

  "Oh, Jack!" she said, blinking back tears. She followed Edward out of the room.

  God damn it!

  "Well. What an unexpected development this is."

  Jack turned toward Sedgewick, who had seated himself back at the table and was calmly slathering a muffin with jam.

  "Go ahead, Sedge. Berate me just like the rest of them." Jack sank into a chair across from Sedgewick. He placed his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. The fight had gone out of him. He felt drained, empty.

  "I take leave to reserve judgment," Sedgewick said around a mouthful of muffin. "I met Lady Mary only yesterday, after all. Though I liked her, I have no knowledge of her character. I was encouraged, though, by your own words of affection. It sounded as though you had found happiness at last, that you had found someone to... to love."

  "What a bloody fool I've been!" Jack did not lift his head from his hands, and his voice was soft and muffled. "I loved her, Sedge. I trusted her. I thought she was different. How could I have been so stupid?" He lifted his head and slumped back into his chair. "I learned years ago never to trust a woman. They are all heartless, faithless, fickle creatures. I should have known better. Mary is the same as all the rest."

  "Are you so certain of that, Jack? She was different enough to have you singing her praises only yesterday."

  "Don't remind me, please, of my own stupidity. She maniplated me into letting down my guard, that is all. Dammit, how could I have been such a fool?"

  "Perhaps you were not so foolish," Sedgewick said. "Perhaps something did happen. Something beyond her control—"

  "Sedge! She took everything. She sneaked out in the middle of the night without a word or a note ... nothing. Nothing."

  "It does look rather odd," Sedgewick said. "What do you suppose set her off?"

  "I have no idea," Jack said, his voice rising with impatience. "She apparently changed her mind and bolted. Plain and simple. Bloody hell!"

  A footman quietly entered the room and looked in horror at the mess on and in front of the sideboard. He walked toward it, hands outstretched as though to pick something up, when he turned and met Jack's angry gaze. Startled, he backed out of the room, mouthing apologies as he left.

  Jack rose and began to pace the room. "I should have known better," he said. "I did know better. The question is, what made me forget? I was right to merely take my pleasure from women and never get involved. Well, by God, that is exactly what I will do from now on. I will never, never trust a woman again."

  "What about her fortune?" Sedgewick asked. "You need to marry a fortune, or have you forgotten that minor point? What will you do now?"

  Jack snorted. "Oh, I still need a fortune, to be sure. But I'll be damned if I will have it from a woman. No, sir. Never again. I will find some other way."

  "And Lady Mary? What will you do about her? Do you not think you should at least try to find out what happened? Find out if—"

  "No!" Jack shouted. "By God, she has done enough damage. She has humiliated me in front of my friends and family. I shall never forget that. Never. I want nothing more to do with her."

  Standing near the sideboard, he eyed a piece of broken porcelain and kicked it hard across the room.

  God damn it!

  Chapter 19

  Olivia fled the breakfast room and made her way toward the Great Hall. There was no particular reason for going there; she simply needed to get away from all those people. She found an oak settle in an alcove beneath the Minstrel's Gallery, sat down, and dropped her head into her hands.

  My God, what am I going to do?

  She had been abandoned by her employer, left among virtual strangers, with no transportation, save what she could beg, and no idea where she should go in any case. What in the world was she going to do? A tightening in her chest caused her to lift her head, sit up straight, and breathe deeply. She was distraught beyond words, but the tears had stopped some time ago. She was still saddened by this strange turn of events, to be sure; but more than that, she was frightened. She was all at sixes and sevens, uncertain of what was expected of her, what Mary expected of her. Not since Martin had died had she felt so lost.

  She had been upset—and hurt—by Mary's behavior yesterday afternoon, but had never dreamed anything like this would happen. But, then, what had happened? What had caused Mary to leave like that? Without a word? Without an explanation? To sneak off in the middle of the night like that? It was so unlike her. Especially now. Olivia had not been unaware of Mary's increased attachment to Lord Pemerton, which was written plainly on her face for all the world to see, or of her great pleasure in his family and his home. Always cheerful, Mary had never seemed so happy as she had been at Pemworth. What, then, could have changed all that? What had happened?

  Olivia heard a noise behind her. Not wishing to be caught brooding in a dark corner of the Great Hall, she rose and turned toward the doorway in time to see Lord and Lady Bradleigh starting up the oak staircase.

  "Excuse me, my lady," Olivia said without thinking. "But I wonder if I might have a word with you?"

  Emily relinquished her husband's arm and turned toward Olivia.

  "I was wondering," Olivia said, "if you ... I mean, do you have any idea what
..."

  Emily smiled weakly. "What happened to Mary?" she said, finishing Olivia's thought.

  Olivia nodded, embarrassed to have approached the countess in such a forward manner.

  "I wish I knew, Mrs. Bannister," Emily said. "I am afraid I do not understand at all. I am frankly worried about her."

  "Oh, so am I! I wish someone would go after her."

  "I must agree with Jack on that point, Mrs. Bannister," Lord Bradleigh said. "I doubt Lady Mary wishes to be followed. She apparently made a conscious decision to leave. Why, I cannot begin to say. But I suspect it was not an easy decision, and she probably wanted to be alone. That is most likely why, unfortunately, she left without you."

  "Yes," Emily said. "Of all people, you must be closest to her, Mrs. Bannister. If she chose not to confide her plans even to you, then it must have been something very difficult for her to do. Poor Mary. What can have happened?"

  Olivia stared at the countess hopelessly.

  "We are all confused," Emily continued. "And hurt. But Mary must be feeling even more wretched than we are. I suppose we must simply accept her decision and continue on."

  "Of course," Olivia said, "you are correct. I just wish I understood."

  "Mrs. Bannister," Lord Bradleigh said, "you are welcome to share our carriage with us when we depart Pemworth—which I presume will be much earlier than we had planned. Tomorrow?" he asked his wife. She nodded. "We are traveling to Derbyshire, and in easy stages, I am afraid. I refuse to allow Emily to be jostled more than is necessary. But we would be happy to take you wherever you would like to go."

  "Thank you, my lord," Olivia said. "Let me consider what I must do. Then I may well accept your kind offer."

  The earl and countess continued their way, very slowly, up the stairs. Olivia appreciated the earl's offer more than she could say. But where would she have him take her? To Bath, she supposed. Most of her belongings were still at Mary's Queen's Square town house. She would have to retrieve them and look for new work, which, of course, she had planned to do in any case. Mary would have had no further need of a companion after her marriage. But now, with the wedding canceled, she was not sure if Mary would eventually want her back.

  Good heavens, but her head was spinning over this new predicament. She needed fresh air. She turned back into the Great Hall to head out the front door when the marchioness entered from the opposite end. Olivia stopped to acknowledge her and watched as the woman ambled slowly across the tiled floor, her shoulders sagging, her head bent. When she reached Olivia, she looked up, and Olivia was stunned by the open despair in her eyes. She looked older, somehow.

  "Mrs. Bannister," she said as she laid her hand on Olivia's arm, "do you understand this business at all? Mary's leaving, I mean."

  "No, my lady. I am at a loss to understand it."

  "She told me about herself, you know," the marchioness said. "About her father, her elopement... everything."

  "Oh." Olivia was surprised to hear this information. Mary was normally very circumspect about her past. Olivia, more than anyone, knew how painful a subject it was for her.

  "And because of what I know," the marchioness continued, "I am especially worried about her. I am convinced something happened to upset her... to reopen, somehow, those old wounds. I don't know." She shook her head in confusion. "But I'm afraid it must have something to do with Jack."

  "You think he might have .. . said something to ... to hurt her?"

  "I do not know. But I can assure you he was as stunned as the rest of us. If he did say, or do, something, he was certainly unaware of it. This has hurt him badly, Mrs. Bannister. You cannot imagine. I am worried for him. For what he will do."

  Olivia simply nodded, not knowing what to say. The raw sorrow on the other woman's face was agonizing to watch.

  "I cannot stay and watch his self-destruction. Not again. I cannot bear it. If you will excuse me ..." The marchioness turned away and walked toward the great staircase. Olivia watched as she dragged herself up the first few steps.

  Good Lord. What had Mary done? Did she realize how many people she'd hurt with her abrupt departure?

  She must have known. It was unlike Mary to be so thoughtless of other people's feelings. Her behavior toward Olivia yesterday was wildly out of character. The only answer had to be that Mary herself was hurting so badly she did not care. But hurting over what?

  Olivia pushed open the heavy oak doors and hurried outside. She stopped on the entry steps and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. The breeze came from the south, and the air was pungent with salt. Without thought, her steps took her toward the rear of the house, toward the sea.

  As she followed the path along the east wing, her thoughts were all of Lord Pemerton and his mother, and the different ways Mary's departure had affected them, when she noticed something blue among the lavender bushes against the Hall. She stopped to idly investigate and was astonished to find a blue parasol, which she immediately recognized as Mary's. It was not among the newer items of her trousseau, but an old favorite brought from Bath. It lay half buried among the bushes near a set of French doors. Olivia peered cautiously through the doors and recognized the library. How odd, she thought. What on earth was Mary's parasol doing outside the library?

  Ah, well, she thought, squinting into the bright morning sun. She could use a parasol just now. She held it out and shook it vigorously to remove the dirt, opened it, and perched it above her shoulder as she briskly wound her way through the various gardens stretching toward the sea. She found herself at last on the headlands path above the steep red cliffs and decided to visit the beautiful little pavilion at the highest point along the path. Mary had mentioned that it had been built by Jack's grandfather in imitation of some Greek temple or other. Perched precariously on the jutting edge of a rocky cliff, the small, round building was built of the same pink stone as the Hall. Simple fluted columns supported a domed roof topped by a glass lantern. Olivia paused a moment on the path to admire the graceful lines and simple beauty of the tiny building before proceeding.

  She climbed the steps up to the open structure and walked inside where she found two curved stone benches, facing back to back in the center of the room to form a broken circle. She tossed the parasol and her bonnet on one of the benches and walked to the cliffside edge of the pavilion and leaned against one of the columns. She closed her eyes and threw back her head, letting the blustery wind sting her face, relishing the smell and taste of the salty sea air, which never failed to remind her of Martin. They had shared a small house near Plymouth during the ten years of her marriage, not far to the west along this same coastline.

  Oh, Martin. What am I going to do?

  "May I intrude?"

  Olivia turned with a start to find Edward Maitland on the steps of the pavilion, smiling roguishly at her. Feeling the ubiquitous blush that always seemed to accompany his presence, Olivia looked down and made a great business of straightening her skirts, which had become ruffled by the wind. She felt somehow naked without her bonnet. "Of course," she said, not daring to look at him. "Please come in."

  "You are a difficult woman to track down, Olivia."

  Her head jerked up at the unexpected familiarity.

  "You don't mind if I call you Olivia, do you?" He had entered the pavilion and now eased himself onto one of the benches, his arms stretched out negligently along the back rail. "In private, at least. After all, my dear, we are not such young pups that we need be overly concerned with the proprieties. Please, call me Edward." He patted the space on the bench beside him.

  Olivia glared at him momentarily, instinctively retreating behind her stern paid-companion mask. But at the moment, she was no one's paid companion, and she was no match for that smile and those twinkling blue eyes. She soon abandoned her mask, smiled in return, and sat down next to him. "Edward," she said.

  "Ah. We make progress." He chuckled and Olivia found herself watching him closely. Though he was a notorious libertine, his face did not
show the marks of dissipation one would expect. His skin was not mottled like a drunkard's, nor were his features pinched like an habitual gambler's. Oh, his face was lined, to be sure, for he was not a young man. But the lines were most prominent when he smiled, which was often. He really was very attractive.

  "Actually," he said, "I have come to apologize. For Jack, that is. His behavior toward you was shameful." His face sobered and his voice softened. "But I wish you would not hold it against him, Olivia. I regret his lack of control, but he was hurting and lashing out."

  "I understand," she replied. She relaxed against the back rail, thinking how easy it was to talk with Edward. "It is just that I was in no condition to withstand his anger at that moment. I was hurting, too."

  "She abandoned you as much as Jack, didn't she?"

  "It is not quite the same, of course," she said, "but I have been feeling rather at loose ends. I still have not yet decided what I should do now."

  "Will you follow her?"

  "I have no idea where she has gone. If she is truly running away, I cannot imagine she would return to Bath. That is the first place one would look. But where else she might have gone, I simply do not know. Actually, I am quite worried about her."

  "She is more vulnerable than she lets on, is she not?" Edward asked.

  Olivia turned toward him abruptly. "Yes, she is. How did you guess?"

  "It was not so very difficult," he said. "I was listening, remember, when Lady Bradleigh railed at Jack this morning. She mentioned Lady Mary's fragile sensibilities. But then, I knew she had Assheton for a father. Any daughter of his would necessarily be fragile. She hid it well, though. She never appeared anything less than witty, vibrant, happy." A puzzled frown crossed his face, and he shook his head slowly back and forth.

  "I have no idea what happened," Olivia said in response to his unasked question, "but to have left like that, without a word ... well, it must have been serious, that is all. Poor Mary."

  "And poor Olivia, stranded in the wilds of Devon."

  Olivia laughed. "I am not precisely stranded. Lord Bradleigh has offered me a place in his carriage when he and the countess leave tomorrow. And besides, if I were stranded, I cannot think of a more beautiful place to be so." She turned her gaze to the sea and lifted her face again to the breeze. "I love the sea."