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Whisper To Me of Love

Page 53

by Shirlee Busbee


  She was wearing a gown of rose-striped muslin and carried a chip-straw hat adorned with a cherry-colored ribbon in one hand, and in the other, a basket filled with tall, spiky gladiolus, sweetly scented lavender, and spicy Stock, her mother’s Bible with the fateful letter inside it lying underneath the flowers. This was not her first trip to the cemetery—she had come here often during the past weeks, sometimes to do nothing more than to sit at her parents’ graves, bitterly mourning the senselessness of their deaths, other times simply to think, trying to make coherent decisions about her future ... and Royce’s... .

  Today was no different, and after sadly laying the flowers she had brought with her upon her parents’ graves, her muslin skirts billowing out on the ground around her, she had settled herself beneath a nearby oak tree. Lifting up the Bible, she took out her mother’s letter and slowly read it once more, a tear trickling down her face. There was so much love in those desperate words of Hester’s, and yet as long as the letter existed ... Her face pensive, she stared sightlessly out into space wondering if she had made the right decisions. So much had happened, she thought somberly, since she and Royce had walked away from the one-eyed man’s cottage over a fortnight ago....

  They had not spoken as they had quickly returned to the stable, where George waited in a growing fever of alarm and impatience. His relief on seeing them had been almost comical, and if Morgana had not been so devastated by all she had learned, she might have been amused. But that terrible numbness had not abated, and even the arrival of Zachary and Julian, on horses almost as exhausted as Royce’s, had done little to disturb her state of mind. Royce had swiftly explained to the others what had transpired, and it was decided that the wisest course was to leave immediately—Newell’s body was certain to be discovered eventually, and there was no need for any of them to be involved in it. The one-eyed man had lived surrounded by mystery—let his death in an isolated cottage near the surging, restless sea be the same.

  Jack’s arrival with the barouche moments later was greeted with relief, and after a brief discussion, it was concluded that finding an inn or tavern to stay at for the night was the most practical course.

  It was not until they were all comfortably situated in the private dining room of a cozy inn, not five miles away, that Morgana felt the first real thaw in the iciness that surrounded her. The conversation, at first, had naturally been about the one-eyed man’s death and identity, but eventually it had turned to what Julian had learned from Stephen and Lucinda.

  Seeing the pain and bewilderment on Julian’s face as he had haltingly spoken of that ugly meeting with Stephen and Lucinda, Morgana felt something move within her. Watching his expressive features as he smiled encouragingly at her and did his best to make it clear that he bore her no ill will for his sudden change in fortune, she could feel some of the ice around her heart start to melt. That this handsome, charming young man was her brother, a brother she had never known existed, still astounded her, and yet she found herself powerfully drawn to him. After a fashion, he had suffered as dreadfully as she had, and yet he was still gallantly attempting to act as if he had not gone, in a matter of hours, from being the heir to an Earldom, slated someday to inherit a handsome estate and a magnificent fortune, to being the penniless bastard son of a man long dead, and her soft heart bled for him. He had been an innocent victim too, and it seemed wickedly cruel that he should have to endure the violent and sweeping transformation that would take place once the truth was known.

  Frowning, she stared down at the remains on her plate, a startling thought occurring to her. The title would not have come to her under any circumstances, and as for the fortune. . .

  Her heart twisted painfully, and from beneath her lashes she sent a sadly considering look at Royce, who sat by her side. He was a wealthy man, a very wealthy man, possessed of more riches than she had ever dreamed of or would ever require.... But suppose he had married her with the hopes of laying hands on the Devlin family fortune ... ? She took in a deep, shuddering breath. There was one way, she admitted uneasily, to find out! Did she dare? Was she willing to risk everything?

  Until now she had only been marginally aware of the conversation going on around her, but gradually it dawned on her that there was one vital piece of the vicious story that no one yet knew—that Lucinda had murdered Hester! With the one-eyed man dead, that left only herself and Julian’s mother who knew the truth, and looking again at Julian’s strained features, she swore fiercely to herself that no one would ever learn of it from her! Certainly not Julian—he had suffered enough!

  Conversation lapsed when the inn’s servants came in and cleared the remains of their dinner, and it was not until they were again alone and scattered now throughout the room that the talk immediately returned to the events of the day. The air of icy detachment that had blurred much of the evening for her had vanished, and Morgana was very conscious of Royce standing by her chair, his hand resting on her shoulder. Since they had left the cottage, he had thrown her several puzzled looks and he watched her closely, observing her every movement, assessing every nuance in her voice, and carefully examining every expression that crossed her face. What does he expect? she wondered bitterly. That now I know I am a lady, I shall suddenly put on disdainful airs and haughty manners?

  She glanced up at him, and the warm look in the depths of those brilliant golden eyes made her remember all the passionate, wondrous words that he had poured into her ear as he had held her after the one-eyed man had died. Had he meant them? Did he really love her? Painfully she searched his face, and something in it must have, for the present at least, reassured her, because almost instantly she was aware of a lessening of the suspicion and confusion in her heart.

  She looked away from Royce as Julian said dully, “Today has been horrible, but I actually dread more the scandal that is going to break over us once the truth becomes known!” He gave himself a shake, and stiffening his shoulders, he said, “I shall have to leave London, of course.” He glanced over at Morgana. “I don’t want to cause you any embarrassment, but if you do not mind, I would like to stay at St. Audries Hall for a few weeks until I can decide how I am to make my living.” His beautiful mouth trembled for a moment before he declared gruffly, “I will not be a burden on you and will not make any demands, but I hope you will bear with me until I can find some form of employment.” He smiled with a bitter ruefulness. “It will be difficult—all I have been trained for is to be the next Earl of St. Audries, but perhaps I can become an estate agent or the like.”

  His valiant attempt to lightly dismiss what was a terrible calamity for him tore at Morgana’s heart, and her resolve instantly crystallized. Unaware that she was going to do it, she suddenly leaped to her feet and exclaimed passionately, “No! I will not have it!” Crossing swiftly to stand in front of him, she clutched his arms and stared intently up into the face that so resembled her own. Her voice shaking with emotion, with vehement intensity she said, “I grew up in the most abject poverty imaginable, believing myself to be a bastard child. It was a wretched existence—even in St. Giles, bastards are not highly considered.” The gray eyes black with the violence of what she was feeling, with the strength born of her convictions, she shook him and vowed fiercely, “I would never condemn you or anyone to that form of degradation. Never!”

  Raking the room with a fiery glance, she said thickly, “What we learned today goes no farther! No one else but ourselves ever need know the truth.”

  Into the startled silence that had fallen at her stunning pronouncement, George murmured, “I’ve been thinking much the same myself. All family here. Keep it amongst ourselves. There is no need to make a scandal.” He looked kindly at Morgana and declared warmly, “Glad Royce married you! Got a good head on you, gel. Can’t inherit the title. Royce is nearly as wealthy as Croesus, don’t need money. Think it an excellent idea.”

  “Oh, do you!” Royce said with wrathful amusement, laughter dancing in the depths of his golden eyes. Preoccupied
though he had been by Morgana’s remoteness, he had been thinking along the same lines. Deliberately interjecting a lighter note into the proceedings, a mocking smile curving his mouth, he murmured teasingly, “You know, George, while I agree with most of what you have said, I do think you should at least let me decide if I want to whistle my wife’s fortune down the wind that way.”

  Morgana froze, Royce’s careless words confirming her worst fears. It had been her fortune that he wanted! Tautly she said, “I want Julian to have everything!”

  At the odd note in her voice, Royce looked at her thoughtfully. Not liking the wild expression in her eyes, he said quietly, “Very well, my dear, but I think for the time being, we should all simply agree that today’s events go no farther than ourselves. We can decide how to dispose of your mother’s money at a later date.”

  “What about Stephen Devlin?” Zachary asked suddenly. “He is not likely to sit mutely by and let you strip him of everything.”

  Royce’s face hardened. “I think that when he is confronted with the news that we have proof of what he did to Morgana, he will be quite amenable to whatever we decide. He’s admitted to Julian that he arranged for Andrew’s death, but I doubt if we can find proof of that, and distasteful though it may be, our wisest course may be to let sleeping dogs lie.” He glanced over at Julian, who appeared positively stupefied at this latest unexpected turn of events, and said slowly, “If I understood the facts correctly, St. Audries Hall itself was part of the entail, and so we could not take it from him anyway—even though some of Hester’s fortune was used to maintain it. Am I correct?” Dazedly Julian nodded. Smiling gently at him, Royce said lightly, “I see no reason, however, why Stephen and Lucinda should be allowed to live so richly on money that they have no right to, indeed, money that they bought with blood!” A frown marred his forehead. “Unfortunately,” he added, “unless we are willing for the truth to come out, there is no way that we can have Stephen and Lucinda punished for either Stephen’s part in Andrew’s death or for what they both did to Morgana.”

  Never taking her eyes off of him, Morgana asked intently. “But what do you suggest we do? I do not want either one of them to profit any more than they have from their despicable acts.” Her little face suddenly contorted with the violence of her emotions. “May God forgive me, but I wish them dead!”

  Thinking it best to ignore her outburst, Royce commented smoothly, “Since Stephen will not be in any position to argue with us, I think he will agree to immediately turn over St. Audries Hall and all of its lands, as well as control of what remains of Hester’s fortune, to Julian. For this, he and Lucinda will be allowed to live in the dower house on the small stipend that Julian will settle on them.”

  George nodded his head sagely. “Fairer than they deserve. Like to see ’em both hang!”

  There was an embarrassed little silence, all carefully averting their gazes from Julian’s face. They all might agree that Stephen and Lucinda deserved to hang, but they were also very conscious of the fact that Lucinda, unfortunately, as George muttered under his breath to Royce, was Julian’s mother!

  The next morning, when they returned to Lime Tree Cottage, to be greeted with the stunning news of the deaths of Stephen and Lucinda, Morgana was very glad of the decisions that had been made the previous night. The unexpected deaths of the Earl and his wife had very nearly shattered Julian, and she didn’t like to think what he might have done if he had not known that he did not have to face the humiliation of the world knowing the dastardly acts committed by Stephen and Lucinda.

  Their deaths created a painful dilemma for Julian and Morgana, but they finally agreed that in keeping with the decision not to reveal the truth, Stephen and Lucinda would have to be buried in the Devlin family cemetery. But not, Morgana had stated vehemently, anywhere near her parents! It revolted her to even think of them sharing the same soil, and consequently the seventh Earl of St. Audries and his Countess had been buried in the farthest corner of the cemetery, with only a small, plain marker to designate the remote spot.

  Even now, over a fortnight since they had been buried, Morgana could not bring herself to look in the direction of the still bare earth that marked their graves. She had not mourned their deaths; to her shame, she had experienced again the same fierce satisfaction that had flooded through her when she had stared down at the body of the one-eyed man. They had deserved to die!

  Sighing, she deliberately dragged her thoughts away from that fruitless direction and plucked a blade of grass. Such a lot had happened these past weeks. The hurried, immediate removal to St. Audries Hall. The funeral. Ben’s release from Newgate. The departure of Ben, Jack, and Zachary for America on the very day of Ben’s release.

  It had been decided that Jack and Ben would stay with Zachary at his plantation near Baton Rouge until Royce and she joined them in the fall, when they would make further plans about their future.... But what about my future? she nearly wailed aloud. Everyone else was more than satisfied with the way things had turned out—her brothers were safely in America, hovering on the threshold of a new life; Julian was the Earl of St. Audries, his home and fortune secure; and Royce ...

  What was Royce thinking and feeling these days? she wondered miserably. She knew she was partially to blame for the chasm between them, her suspicion of his motives making her stiff and wary around him. But he, too, had changed over these past weeks—gone was the teasing, arrogant lover, the man who had captured her heart, and in his place, there was this unfailingly polite creature who quietly anticipated her wishes and silently watched her every move. With the lover, she might have been able to voice the fears in her heart, but this ... this stranger that Royce had become made it impossible for her to reveal the uncertainties that racked her.

  Reluctantly she admitted that he didn’t act like a man who had married to gain wealth—not by so much as a look had he indicated that her total rejection of her rightful place and fortune had bothered him. If anything, she thought almost angrily, he had seemed inordinately pleased by her decision, and certainly no one could have asked for a kinder, more considerate husband than Royce. Look at all he had done for her and Ben and Jack. He had showered her with gifts and had risked his life to save her from the one-eyed man. It had even been his suggestion that they delay their departure from England rather than sailing with the others, so that she could become better acquainted with Julian.

  Guilt smote her, and the terrible suspicion that she had misjudged him, which had occurred uncomfortably to her more than once these past weeks, suddenly flitted through her mind. She moved uneasily. Could he have really meant all those sweet words that he had poured into her ear? But if he had meant them, why was he acting so aloof? she asked herself despairingly. A blush stained her cheeks. He hadn’t even visited her bed. Was that the act of a man in love?

  As if her thoughts had conjured him up, she spied Royce’s tall form walking toward her, and her heart raced in her chest. He looked heartbreakingly handsome as he came nearer, the breeze attractively riffling the tawny hair, his elegant coat and breeches revealing the splendid body they clothed. He carried a rolled-up piece of paper in his hand, and walking up to her, he said lightly, “I’ve been looking for you and I thought that I might find you here. May I join you?”

  Almost shyly she nodded, and he promptly joined her on the ground, lounging negligently at her feet, one hand propping up his head as he lay on his side. There was a curious expression in the golden eyes, and as he stared at her, Morgana became increasingly nervous. Rushing into speech, she stammered, “D-D-Did you want t-t-to see me about anything s-s-special?”

  He regarded her for a long, tension-mounting moment and then said quietly, “As a matter of fact, yes. Julian and I have worked out a settlement for you that we both believe is fair.”

  “A-A-A settlem-m-ment?” she asked stupidly. “What do you mean?”

  Royce smiled wryly. “Your brother is a very honorable young man—his conscience has been bedeviling him and
he has been having difficulty simply accepting your generous renunciation.” He sent her a level look and continued carefully, “I’ve explained to him that I am a very rich man and that you will never want for anything, but that did not seem to satisfy him, and after some discussion, we compromised.”

  Her eyes locked painfully on his face, in a small voice she asked, “What sort of compromise?”

  Silently he handed her the paper he had brought with him. He gave her a moment to unroll it, and then in that same careful tone he said, “A woman should have some sort of independence from her husband—especially in a case like ours.” At her confused expression, he added dryly, “I am very rich—and since you have given away what is rightfully yours ... you have nothing.” Something flickered in the golden eyes, and his voice hardened. “I would not like to think that you suffer my presence because the alternative is being penniless and forced to go back to your old way of life.... To prevent that, Julian and I have decided that he shall settle a sum of money on you—money that you will be able to call your own, money that would enable you to live apart from me if that is your desire.”

  Astonishment held her motionless—she might have doubts about his motives, but she loved him passionately, and the notion of leaving him, of not being able to see him every day, had never occurred to her. She loved him! She would never leave him ... but perhaps he wanted her to leave him? Dazedly her gaze dropped to the paper he had handed her and she quickly scanned it. Her face white, she lifted her head, and looking miserably at him, she stammered, “T-T-Ten th-th-thousand pounds a year! It is too much! I cannot accept it!”

  Royce’s mouth tightened. “Don’t be a little fool! Compared to the whole of your mother’s fortune, what Julian is giving you is a paltry sum! Take it!”

 

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