A Dangerous Man

by Janmarie Anello

  She was glad Richard was back. Two long weeks had passed since he had left and Leah had begun to fear he would miss the birthing. She wanted him with her when her time came.

  Not that he could help her, but just knowing he was near would be a comfort to her. She understood him so well now. She ached for his lonely childhood with his cold and distant parents. She ached for the bitter betrayal he had suffered at the hands of the woman he had loved. But most of all, she ached for his anguish over his unwitting betrayal of his brother and the guilt with which he had tortured himself for years.

  Rachel marched into the room. She cast a glare at Leah as she stalked to the window, but she said nothing.

  What vicious attack was she planning now?

  From this distance, Leah could hear no sound as the carri age rolled over the frozen ground and came to a stop. A footman jumped off the box and opened the door, then Richard stepped out, his features indistinguishable beneath his beaver hat and with the collar of his greatcoat turned up against the cold. Puffs of steam from his breath floated away on the wind.

  "It is him," Alison shouted. "May I go out? Please?"

  "Stop kicking up a fuss and go back to the nursery," Rachel said. "Why are you always running loose? Where is that wretched nurse?" She turned her shrewd gaze on Leah. "Where do you think he has been? Or, more importantly, with whom?"

  Leah had discovered the best method of dealing with Rachel was simply to ignore her. She removed the plaits from Alison's tousled hair, ran her fingers through the soft strands, letting the curls flow over her shoulders. "Now you look all grown up for when you greet your Uncle Richard."

  Once on the ground, Richard turned and held up his hand to aid someone inside the carriage. A slim, gloved hand appeared, followed by a daintily booted foot. The wind gusting around the house pushed the woman and she slipped, her foot skidding off the step. Richard grasped her waist to steady her, then eased her to the ground. Her hood fell back, revealing a stunning young lady with flaming red hair and ivory skin.

  Rachel snickered. Before she could launch her venomous attack, Leah took Alison's hand in hers and led her from the room. By the time they reached the entry, Richard was standing in the hallway, speaking softly to the woman beside him.

  Alison launched herself at his leg in her customary greeting. He laughed as he kissed her, then motioned Leah forward, a mysterious smile upon his lips.

  From a distance, the young woman had appeared lovely, but up close she was stunning. She had ivory skin and wideset eyes, blue as cornflowers with a deeper blue circling the edges and silver streaks glinting like diamonds near the dark centers, a startling contrast to her gingered hair.

  A momentary twinge of jealousy caused Leah's steps to falter, but she pushed aside the foolish thought. She had faith in her husband. She did. She approached him at a slightly more dignified pace than Alison's. "Welcome home"

  He set Alison on her feet. His mouth tilted in a somber smile. "Leah, there is someone I would like you to meet"

  When she was a few paces away from him, he stepped aside.

  Next to the woman, gripping her hand, was a young boy. He had sandy hair and dimpled cheeks, but it was his eyes that stopped Leah's breath, that made her heart feel as if it had ceased beating, the gray-green eyes of her sister.

  She pressed her hand to her throat.

  "Leah," Richard said softly. "May I present to you Matthew Jamison, son of Catherine Jamison."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Leah was vaguely aware of time moving forward, of movement around her, of Richard's hand on her elbow as she dropped to her knees. She heard words being spoken, though she understood naught of what was said. It was as if she were standing out on the cliffs, the gusting wind blocking all sound save for the deafening waves thrashing the rocks below

  All she could see was this child. Her sister's child, staring back at her through Catherine's eyes, his dusty hair covering his pallid brow. His skeleton suit clinging to his too-thin chest. He hid his face in the skirts of the woman beside him. After a few moments, he peeked at Leah from behind the cloth. "Why are you crying?"

  "Am I?" She swiped her hands over her cheeks, amazed to find moisture clinging to her fingertips. She imagined she looked truly frightful. She was a stranger to him after all.

  She took a deep breath to calm her emotions. "I am just so very happy to meet you. I have wanted to meet you for ever so long."

  She crushed her fists against her thighs to keep from grabbing his arms and dragging him to her chest. She wanted to run her hands over his shoulders, to smooth his damp hair from his brow. Anything to prove he was well and truly here, and not a dream.

  "You look like my mum"

  Leah nodded. "I am your mother's sister. I am your aunt"

  "My mum's dead," he said, twisting his hands in the nurse's skirts. The woman reached down, smoothed her hand over his back.

  Leah closed her eyes. She had long suspected, but to finally hear her worst fears confirmed sent a stabbing pain through her chest. A tingling numbness spread over her fingers and toes. She was aware of Richard kneeling beside her, of his hand stroking soothing circles over her back.

  "I did not know that," she said, stretching out her arms. She needed to touch this child. Her sister's child. "Do you think you give me a hug?"

  She held her breath as he stared at her through somber, shadowed eyes. Then he took a step toward her and she yanked him into her arms. She kissed his cheek, stroked his brow, memorized his scent of rough-and-tumble boy, gingerbread he must have eaten for breakfast, and the crisp winter air clinging to his clothes. She could hear Richard speaking to her, but she was afraid that this was a dream, that if she opened her eyes this child would be gone.

  "Leah," he said, his deep voice rumbling near her ear. "Why don't you let Harris show our guests to their rooms? It has been a long journey, and I think young Matthew might like a snack, then a rest. What say you, young man? Are you hungry?"

  Leah felt his head nod against her shoulder.

  She gave him one final squeeze, then leaned back on her heels. "Run along then, Matthew."

  Alison ran up to them. "Do not worry, Aunt Leah. I will share my toys with him. Uncle Richard says he is my cousin. I have never had a cousin before" She took Matthew's hand in hers. Chattering all the while, they followed Harris and the nurse up the stairs.

  Rachel opened her mouth, as if she were about to speak, then she spun on her heels and flounced down the hall.

  In her shock, Leah had forgotten Rachel was even in the room. She turned her cheek into Richard's chest, fingers clawing his waistcoat. Richard pulled her into his arms. Her shoulders shook, her silent tears soaked his cravat, and he held her as she wept.

  The house was silent, the children long since tucked into their beds. Richard listened to the fire snapping in the hearth while relishing the simple pleasure of holding the woman he loved in his arms, her cheek resting against his shoulder, her hair spilling enticingly over his chest. The swell of her belly pressed against his side, but the child lay quiet.

  Light from a single candle on the bedside table caught the amber in her eyes as she leaned up and kissed his jaw. "You are so wonderful, Richard. You have given me the greatest gift. However did you find him?"

  He brought her knuckles to his lips. Her fingers trembled beneath his palm. "After you told me of your sister, I hired Bow Street Runners to search for her"

  "But you never said a word"

  "I did not want to raise your hopes" He traced his fingertips along the curve of her arm. "I had no notion if they would succeed in finding her after all these years"

  Her sigh sent her breath fluttering over his chest.

  "Do you know what happened to her? How she ... died?"

  If only some means existed to spare her this pain, but she deserved the truth. "For a time, she wandered about from place to place. She finally settled in Holdhan where she worked in a spinning factory."

  "Holdhan?" She pushed hersel
f up on her elbows, her eyes glittering green shards of stained glass reflecting the turmoil of her emotions. "It was one of my father's factories, was it not? Do not bother to deny it, I see the answer in your eyes. He knew where she was all along, and he did nothing to help her. I don't know why I am so surprised, but I am ""

  He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, wiping away her tears. If only he could as easily soothe her aching heart. "She seems to have had a great many friends there. It may comfort you to know that she spoke of you often."

  Leah tilted her face into his hand. "If you can tell me, I would like to know. When did she ... die? How?"

  "A year ago," Richard said quietly, his throat tightening. "Of a lung infection. I am told it is a fairly common illness among the factory workers"

  She collapsed in his arms, buried her face against his neck. Her tears scorched his skin, clenched his heart. He knew only too well the anguish of losing a sibling. If only he could spare her this pain, take it into himself.

  "I should like to go there to visit her grave-oh, dear God, she does have a grave, does she not?"

  "She had a proper burial," Richard hastened to reassure her. "She rests in the parish churchyard. I will take you there after you have recovered from your lying in."

  She was quiet for such a long time, the only sound her softly flowing breath, Richard thought she had fallen asleep.

  "Who cared for Matthew after she died?" she whispered, her anguish all too apparent in the huskiness of her voice.

  He sighed. There was no easy way to say it. Better just to spit it out. "He was in the parish poorhouse."

  "Oh, God," she cried. "He is lucky to be alive."

  "He was safe," Richard said firmly. "It was a clean, decent establishment. The children well-fed and properly clothed. And now he is here with you"

  "Oh, Richard, I never thought I would meet him, or ..

  "Shhh," he whispered. "Sleep now, my love. It has been a trying day. We will speak of this again tomorrow" He wrapped her in his arms and murmured soothing words until she slept.

  He didn't know how he was going to tell her the rest. It was such a complicated tale. But he decided he could wait a day or two. Perhaps he was acting the coward, but he didn't care. It would break her heart.

  Leah stood at the salon window the next morning, watching the children play. Supervised by their nurses, they chased each other up and down the garden paths, oblivious to the winter wind or the black, billowing clouds sweeping across the sky.

  "She is beautiful," Rachel said, coming to stand beside her. "With all that red hair. Much too beautiful to be a nursemaid. Much too refined. Mark my words, Leah, all is not as it seems"

  Leah clenched her jaw, but said nothing. Her head was throbbing from lack of sleep, her dreams haunted by memories of her sister. Of the fights they had indulged over the most foolish of things, of the secrets they had shared, of their mutual grief at their mother's passing.

  Now Catherine was dead, and Leah was left to grieve alone.

  As she watched Matthew turn a somersault on the hard, packed earth, thoughts of all Catherine would miss in her son's life looped through Leah's mind. Kissing his scraped knees. Soothing him after a nightmare. Welcoming him as he brought home his bride. She pressed her fist to her lips. She had to take care not to show her grief for fear of frightening Catherine's son.

  The rising wind kicked up tiny whirlwinds of dust. The children marched toward the terrace just as the first raindrops hit the glass. With a quick prayer that Rachel would not follow, Leah brushed her hands down her skirts and hurried to greet them as swiftly as her overgrown girth would allow.

  "Did you know Lord Greydon arrived this morning?" Rachel called after her, her voice echoing off the stuccoed ceiling.

  Leah did not stop walking or give any indication she heard Rachel's words, though her breath caught in her throat.

  She told herself his presence here meant nothing, but she did not believe it. On the rare occasions she had met Lord Greydon, he had stared at Leah with such relentless intensity, prickling sensations had shuddered over her skin.

  Her stomach churning with sick premonition, she marched to the library. Voices raised in heated debate drifted through the wood. A momentary fear urged her to turn away, but she gave the door a swift push.

  The conversation stopped mid-sentence as both men turned to stare at her. She did not look at Lord Greydon. She did not want to see his reaction or the expression on his face.

  She saw only Richard as he strode toward her.

  His dark eyes narrowed on her face. His jaw, rigid and tense as he took her elbow in his hand, confirmed her fears.

  "Why is he here?"

  "I sent for Greydon because I needed to speak with him." The touch of his hand was warm and familiar, his voice aching and low. "Why don't you wait for me in your rooms?"

  She shook her head. "No. I want to know."

  He tightened his grip, exerting a gentle pressure as he led her toward the door. "I would prefer to speak with you in private, after I finish my interview with Greydon"

  "No" She dug her heels into the rug, pulled her arm from his grasp. "I know it involves Matthew. I want to know."

  She grasped his hand. "Please, Richard, I want to know. I can bear no more secrets popping up to hurt me"

  The dark fringe of his hair fell into his eyes as he gave a stiff nod, then he led her to a chair near the hearth.

  The room seemed inordinately quiet, even the fire seemed subdued, dying in the grate. Leah was intensely aware of the rain hitting the windows, but she could not hear it.

  All she could hear was the pounding of her heart.

  Lord Greydon collapsed into a seat across from hers. She could see his long legs, encased in buff pantaloons, his elbows, swathed in green wool, leaning on his knees, the top of his head as he buried his face in his palms.

  When he finally raised his red-rimmed gaze to hers, Leah silently screamed she did not want to know, could not bear to hear what he had to say.

  Perspiration clung to his forehead. He started to speak, but the words came out garbled. He cleared his throat and began again. "I thought you were her, you know. The first time I saw you, I thought you were Catherine."

  He closed his eyes, and Leah knew he was seeing Catherine in his mind. Her vision dimmed. She could not seem to draw in enough air. Richard tightened his grip on her hand.

  "I met Catherine when I was staying with my uncle at Greydon Hall," Pierce finally said, his voice shuddering. "I saw her walking across a field, carrying a basket. She was so beautiful." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I didn't want to startle her by charging across the field on my horse. So I tied him to a tree, then chased after her on foot. I think, at first, she was frightened. She wouldn't talk to me, or tell me her name. But I was enchanted. I persisted and pursued her until she told me her name was Catherine Burton"

  He raised his gaze to Leah's, his eyes as red as the logs burning in the grate. "Why did she lie about her name?"

  Leah stared into the fire. She did not want to feel anything for this man, this seducer of her sister.

  "My father-" A sob choked off her voice. "My father would not have wanted her to know you."

  Pierce said nothing, but his chest hitched as he drew in his breath. "I went to that same field every day for a week, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Just when I had given up hope of ever meeting her again, she appeared. She smiled, and I knew she was happy to see me"

  "She used to help the vicar deliver parcels of food to the poor," Leah said, but Pierce didn't seem to hear her.

  He stared out the windows, as if fascinated by the rain. "We talked for hours. She agreed to meet me the next day. After that, we met every day." He fixed Leah with a hard, disconcerting stare. "I did not use her. I did not cast her aside. I loved her. I wanted to wed her. I received an urgent summons from my mother. My father was very ill, not expected to live through the week. I went to our usual meeting spot-I waited, but she n
ever came! I delayed leaving as long as I could, but I had to return home before it was too late."

  "Of course you did," Richard said with quiet sympathy.

  Leah closed her eyes. How cruel fate was. If not for his father's illness, Catherine might have married this man she had loved. If she had married him, she might still be alive.

  "As it was, I barely made it," Pierce whispered. "My father died mere hours after I arrived. Then I had to see to Mother and her affairs. It was nigh onto two months before I could return. I went to all the surrounding villages, searching for Catherine Burton. No one knew her." He laughed, a sound as harsh and bitter as the wind driving the rain in from the ocean. "At least now I know why. Finally, some old codger pointed up the road and told me Miss Burton lived at Heallfrith Manor. He must have meant your aunt, but at the time I thought he meant Catherine."

  Pierce clenched his shaking hands into fists. "I pounded on the door. When the butler answered, I demanded to speak with his master. Over and over, I called the man Mr. Burton. How he must have laughed at me, never bothering to correct my mistake. He was not pleased to see me, although he didn't seem surprised .. ."

  Leah closed her eyes against the picture Pierce was painting of her father's cold-hearted cruelty.

  "I told him I was in love with his daughter, that I wanted to wed her," Pierce said, his voice, a raw, aching wound. "Your father merely laughed, said Catherine wanted nothing to do with me, that she'd never tie herself to a nobody like me. I didn't believe him. I demanded to see her, but he said she'd left to marry another. He produced a note saying as much. Of course, now I realize it must not have been written in her hand"

  Pierce pushed his fists into his knees. "What choice did I have? I left. Over the years, I convinced myself that I hated her. In truth, I never stopped loving her." He rubbed his hands over his face, but his tears returned faster than he could swipe them away. "I never saw her again. I never knew she loved me still. I never knew about our child. If only I had known-"