by Carrie Lomax
Even more extraordinary, he felt a thickness in his trousers. Arousal was something he had never expected to feel again. It had been so long absent from his life that Edward was unprepared for its abrupt reentry now. He liked Harper Forsythe. His body liked the strange young woman.
Edward made quick work to roll and flatten the remaining cakes while the servants finished their cleaning. Mercifully, by the time they were rinsing their hands in the sink, any outward indication of Edward’s interest in Forsythe had subsided. Cook marched into the kitchen, clearly putting on a brave face in front of the maids.
“Cook,” said Harper. “How would you recommend we cook these cakes?” she asked.
The portly woman looked down. “I suppose I’d fry them in a bit of butter.”
“Would you please try it, and if they are any good, bring them upstairs to the luncheon table?” Then she took Edward by the elbow and directed him upstairs to where his father was already finished with most of his midday meal. Edward allowed the woman to pull him along the hall without resistance to the end of the passageway. There he stopped.
“Thank you,” he said. “You were remarkable in helping me recreate my favorite food.”
She regarded him searchingly. “It was no trouble. Next time, though, please ask before you terrorize the kitchen maids.”
“I tried,” Edward replied, sheepish now that he considered the way he’d let his frustration get the better of him. A hunter never rushed his prey until he was ready for the kill—he was hardly unacquainted with the concept of patience.
“Next time, if you need assistance, come and find me first. Promise?”
Edward nodded. He’d be seeking Miss Forsythe out at every opportunity, if she could help him quell his longing to return to his adopted tribe. He’d never had a moment to say goodbye. There had been a flash of warning, then the rope around his neck, followed by more ropes around his wrists and ankles. After dragging him for a painful, considerable distance, his captors had thrown him into a boat and then into the cage, where he’d remained for almost two months. After the horrifying journey, waking up in elegant England as the heir to an earldom had seemed little more than a cosmic joke at his expense. Everything was different from what he’d remembered. There had been little comfort in his return—but perhaps, it was time to give up his grand notions of stealing a ship and going back to his people.
He followed Miss Forsythe’s swish of plain skirts into the dining room, where his starched and disapproving father glared while Harper explained what had delayed lunch for so long. At that moment, a footman appeared bearing a platter of golden cakes.
“You see, your lordship,” she said proudly. “Edward wanted to share some of his recent history with you. I am afraid they took several tries. You must forgive our lateness.”
The earl kept his face carefully blank as the footman placed one corncake on his plate. Gingerly, he sliced a small bite and placed it in his mouth. His expression changed from skepticism to wonderment.
“Not bad,” he declared. “These are not bad at all. Try one.”
Harper took one cake out of politeness, while Edward piled four onto his. They bore only a distant similarity to the food he remembered so fondly, but Edward could see how next time they would be better. They tasted like a blend of his past and his present. The stew of fury and frustration that had led him to ransack the kitchen subsided, leaving in its place a kind of peace. Perhaps he did need Forsythe’s help. She was the only one patient enough, and brave enough, to listen to him.
Yet why would any young woman pursue such a dismal profession? If he was anything like a typical patient, her work must require an almost saintly devotion and selflessness. Selfless was not the word he would use to describe her. The word he would choose was fierce.
Forsythe gave him the smallest smile across the table as she chatted with his father, a parsimonious measure of her pride at righting the luncheon ship. He would have battled legions to glimpse it again. Out of nowhere, Edward thought of the giant anteater a few lads from his tribe had cornered once. The animal was a silly-looking creature, but it had proven lethal to one boy who had gotten close enough to get swiped by its four-inch claws. Forsythe was a little bit like that. An amusing creature with odd habits and surprising defenses.
He wondered what would have happened if he had tried to kiss her in the kitchen.
“Why do you work in an asylum?” Edward asked, interrupting their conversation.
The earl and the doctor glanced at one another as if gold coins had fallen from his mouth as he spoke. Annoyance flashed over him, but his curiosity about Miss Forsythe overcame the impulse to react.
“If I may offer a personal story. I was so traumatized after my parents’ death that I didn’t speak a word for nearly six months. My sister was overwhelmed with trying to care for us both. She had heard somewhere that the Pattons were famous for treating their patients well, so she wrote directly to Mrs. Patton, who convinced the doctor to take me on charity. Working with others gave me something to dwell upon other than the loss of my family. Many people would have locked a mute child away indefinitely. I was fortunate. My experience led me to believe that many people can learn to cope with their illnesses and live normal lives, when given proper support and encouragement. I have great faith in the power of second chances.”
“To second chances,” the earl declared, raising his wine glass. Forsythe raised her water goblet. Edward had forgotten all about this ritual, so he scrambled to join in.
“To support, encouragement and new beginnings,” the earl continued. “Son, I am very pleased with your progress during the short time that Miss Forsythe has been with us. Pray continue.”
With that, the earl excused himself. A moment later, Forsythe followed suit. He wanted to follow her, but in keeping with his progress and new beginning, he let her go.
For now.
Chapter 6
Dear Dr. Patton,
No thanks to your obfuscation, I have made some small progress with the family in the two days since my arrival. The source of the conflict is the younger son, until recently the heir apparent. Thankfully his disruptive influence has been removed to London for the time being, at the earl’s insistence. I shall work with the earl and especially with Lord Edward to help them manage their reactions to Lord Richard's more provoking behavior.
Lord Edward is not, I believe, truly disordered. He has had to adapt to a stunning number of drastic changes, including treatment that has crossed the line into outright cruelty. He is resentful and angry but will, I think, learn his place in due time, as his father desires.
The earl is brittle when dealing with Lord Richard and treats Lord Edward as though he is still a boy of fourteen or fifteen, not as an adult (although I admit that the heir rarely acts like it). Under the circumstances, it seems reasonable to double the fee.
I jest, of course.
The dim sound of shouting momentarily distracted Harper, leaving a large ink blot in the middle of the page.
"Oh, bother," she huffed, drying her pen and shoving the letter beneath a fresh sheet of paper. The shouting became more distinct.
“Beast!” a woman’s shrill voice echoed along the hallway just outside her door. Harper slammed the letter into a drawer. Her drab skirts swished after her as she opened the door to her room and peeked out.
The butler and one of the parlor maids stood together. The maid, disheveled and red-faced, gesticulated angrily at something Harper could not see. The door blocked her vision. The butler stood behind her, trying to get the poor woman to shush. Neither of them noticed her.
“I tell you that man was watching me!” the girl hissed. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, plumpish with fair hair and pretty features. Her eyes, however, were wild with fright and anger. “I don’t care whose son he is, the Beast of Briarcliff is deranged and dangerous!”
Oh dear. If this was how all the household reacted to Lord Northcote, no wonder he wished for solitude.
“You mustn’t walk off the job. We’re short-staffed as is,” the butler entreated.
“Aye, and no one in their right mind would work in this madhouse!”
The tall, unhandsome butler shushed her.
“I’m afraid for my safety, Mr. Smith,” the woman hissed.
“We’ll find a way to protect you, Ann. Where were you when this happened?”
“In the blue bedroom,” the maid replied, gesturing down the hall toward Harper’s room. Harper pulled back sharply. She had no intention of being caught eavesdropping on the help.
A shadow crossed her window. Harper sucked in a breath and glanced up.
Edward’s large form was blocking the window.
In that moment, Harper understood why the maid had felt so unsettled. The peculiarity of being observed from the exterior of a second-story window was genuinely disturbing. In a few steps, she crossed the room and threw open the sash.
“Would you care to come inside, Edward.” It was not a question.
The big man did not respond verbally. He simply contorted his lean, muscular frame to fit through the casement. Standing barefoot on her cheerful bedroom rug, clad only in loose trousers and a looser linen shirt, he rose to his full height. Harper had to crane her neck up to look him directly in the eye.
“You wanted something?” she prompted, when he still did not speak.
“Why did you kiss me?”
Heat flashed through her body at the memory. It was not the question she’d anticipated.
“In the tree, you mean? I already apologized to you. In that moment, I was unable to express my gratitude to you for saving my life in words,” Harper replied.
“I liked it.”
Harper’s eyebrows shot up. “Whether or not that was the case, I encourage you to forget the incident, because there won’t be a repeat experience. You know you just scared one of the maids half to death, crawling about the exterior of the building like that.”
“Did you like it?” he asked, with hope brightening his eyes a shade or two.
“No, I do not like seeing you clamber about the façade,” Harper responded with as even a tone as she could muster.
“I meant, the kiss.”
“That was hardly a real kiss,” she blurted, her cheeks scalding hot. Why hadn’t she said no, it was wrong and terrible? That would have been the correct response. It would uproot the sprout of hope in his eyes.
But Harper couldn’t bear to do that.
Lord Northcote had suffered enough without her stamping out the one bright spot in his life. She could not kiss him again. Not that this had prevented the memory of his spicy, masculine scent and the rough stubble of his chin from intruding upon her thoughts every few minutes in the evening and breakfast since the mortifying accident. It was base, unprofessional and worst of all unhelpful to her cause to think of Lord Edward in that way. She should have better control over her emotions.
It’s a physical reaction, that’s all.
“Forget it ever happened,” she muttered, turning away on one heel.
“Not a real kiss,” Edward repeated with confusion.
“No.”
“We could try a real—”
“Absolutely not! Edward, even you must comprehend the inappropriateness of barging into a lady’s room and asking for a kiss. You’re not thick. Why are you even here?”
He glared sullenly. “You’re the one who told me to come in.”
Exasperated, Harper glanced into the empty hallway. “Out, now. We cannot be caught here in this manner.”
“The help is up to something,” he growled as Harper shoved him through the door and turned the key in the lock.
“What, precisely, do you mean?” demanded Harper, trotting to keep pace with him as they passed down a dimly lit corridor. Finally, he stopped and turned to stare at her. Harper took several deep breaths. The day was warm. Her hair stuck to her face. She preferred not to think about the state of her underarms. Edward scowled darkly. Harper swallowed, fighting the mix of awe and attraction so roiling her internally.
She had kissed him. The rough stubble of his cheek and the spiced rum scent of his skin haunted her. She must never do it again—but oh, how she wanted to.
“The servants hate you nearly as much as they detest me. You are different.”
Harper cocked her head at an angle. “I’m listening.”
“To a one, they want to send you away. They are looking for an excuse. Any excuse.
“Be careful. Richard is … devious. He will use every advantage.”
Harper finally nodded. “We must watch our every interaction.”
Lord Edward looked relieved. “Yes.”
“Richard is in London. For now, he’s not a threat. Do you mean to tell me that’s why you came to my room, via the window?”
“Yes.”
Edward blew an exasperated sigh and stared broodingly back at the large manor house.“I need an ally.”
“I am pleased that you trust me. That said, no more window visits.”
“I don’t trust you at all.”
“Then why come to me?” Maddening man. Harper couldn’t even keep him on track for the space of a single conversation. No wonder everyone thought he was unsalvageable. Yet she was an optimist, and Harper remained convinced that despite Edward’s unique approach, he was not mad.
Edward cupped her chin roughly. “Understand this, Miss Forsythe. You and I are outsiders. They will ruin us if they can. Together, we stand a chance against them.”
“Them who?” Harper jerked her chin out of his loose hold. “I am not here to fight anyone, your lordship.”
“Edward. It’s just Edward.”
“Lord Northcote, I am here to help you. To that end, I must ask that you stop climbing the walls. Literally. It is an incredible feat of physical prowess and daring, but it scares people.”
His only response was to huff a strand of hair out of his face.
“What is it you’re looking for when you climb the walls like that?”
“Peace,” he said instantly.
“Don’t you have a room for privacy.”
Edward scowled.
“Is it unacceptable in some way?” Harper demanded, feeling more than a little out of patience. He was an aristocrat. Unless the earl had housed him in a grim cell—which she was certain was not the case—there could be little for Edward to complain about in this lavishly appointed country house.
Edward frowned, grabbed her hand, and led her through the hallways. They passed footmen and maids, and Harper was mindful to appear willing so as not to cause alarm—though she couldn’t have escaped Edward’s grip if she tried. In the family quarters, he threw open a double door to a cavernous, dark room with red silk figured wall coverings and heavy, dark wood furniture. Even on a bright summer day, the place was cave-like.
“Is this your room?” she asked, panting a little.
“Yes.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s too dark,” Edward declared. “I feel like I’m being buried alive. I need light and air.”
“Ah. And the roof is the only place you can find privacy.”
“Precisely.” His relief at being understood was carved into the lines of his face.
“I will show you how to access the roof through the stairs, Edward. If you want my help, you must try to change your ways, starting right now. I can’t fix you. I can only help you if you want to adapt.”
“I may not have time.” Edward’s features turned to granite.
“What does that mean?” she demanded. When Edward didn’t respond, Harper threw up her hands and stalked to the window. Perhaps the room would be more inviting with a bit more light. But Harper quickly realized from the angle of the sun that the room faced north, and the sun’s rays would rarely penetrate the gloom.
From their vantage point, they had a clear view of the road winding toward the main house. A puff of dust rose in a faint plume—a carriage, driving fast.
“Richard,” Edward said flatly. She jumped. He’d moved to stand an inch behind her so quietly that he appeared at her shoulder without making a sound. Harper’s breath caught as she sensed the darkness of spirits that overtook him with that single word. He spoke his brother’s name like a curse.
Harper’s confidence cracked. Could she do anything to help this family? Lord Northcote had experienced so many dislocations that she wondered how he had survived. His misbehavior arose from anger, confusion and isolation, but underneath he had streak of kindness and selfless heroism—one she’d experienced when he’d saved her life.
Did she want to see him made into a proper English gentleman?
Harper wasn’t sure. A sudden sadness burst sharply into her breast like glass shards. If she couldn’t commit herself to reining in Edward’s worst impulses, she should leave today. She would do him no favors by staying if she could not help him.
Harper shook away the thought. He deserved Briarcliff. Edward would be a magnificent, if unconventional, earl. Whatever it took, Harper knew she would do anything to see him claim his proper place in the world. Confining Edward to an asylum would ruin a magnificent man. If he could not take his rightful place, Richard would be a conventionally entitled and heedless keeper of Briarcliff. He would corrupt the great estate as surely as a festering wound was mortal to the body.
Allies. Edward wanted her on his side. That, she could give him without hesitation. Though if she couldn’t get her emotions under control, she would do him little good.
“Lord Northcote, I will give you time. I will fight for you to have the space you need to recover from your…Lord Northcote?” Harper turned, but she was alone in Edward’s room. She sighed and leaned on the sill. The oncoming carriage disappeared from view, then burst into view with a pair of foaming grays. Richard descended like a dark angel. The hair on the back of Harper’s neck rose. Then, he glanced up.
Even from this distance she could clearly see the smoldering malevolence of his expression. Calculating hatred blanked his features, but his eyes…they positively burned with loathing. His lips curled into a twist that was not a smile, but a threat.