He offered another whispered acknowledgement, indecipherable to Felicity.
Her brother’s gaze didn’t leave his daughter’s face, as if drinking in every nuance of her appearance. No surprise his eyes would be starving for her, having not seen his beloved child for three years. Felicity’s heart ached at the tenderness and pride which coursed through his expression.
Aislinn kept her gaze firmly on Jasper. “We must tell Lia. And Nick.”
Felicity faltered at the suggestion and toppled some books with her foot. “We should wait until he’s improved a bit more before telling your sister. And I’ve … other secrets I must tell Nick first.” She bent to straighten the mess she’d made.
Aislinn tore her attention from her father. “He’s your husband. You should have no secrets.”
“I’ve lied to him about some monumental things. Things I should’ve told him before we married, that could’ve altered his choice. And once I confess, I fear he’ll leave without looking back. After seeing how angry he was over just a phonograph…” And how hurt over the laudanum.
The song stopped and Jasper’s eyes closed again.
“Father?” Aislinn patted his cheek gently, concern frosting her voice.
Felicity caught her niece’s wrist. “Let him rest. Clooney thinks it’s best if we leave the player up here in case he awakens on his own. It obviously brings him comfort. His spirit is teetering between this world and the other. He’s been trying to find his way back to the living since my headaches three years ago. He was writing through me … a novel that only a lepidopterist’s mind could’ve crafted. Clooney suggested we may be connected through the cream I wear on my face.”
Sniffing, Aislinn stood and smoothed the red satin ribbon at her waist. “The butterfly saliva?”
Felicity nodded.
Aislinn glanced at the urn on the table. “Do you think Mother’s there, in that other place where he’s been adrift? And that’s why it’s so hard for him to come back?”
“Perhaps. I think he needs a reason to want to come back to us. He needs to remember why life is worth living. It could be why the music draws him back. It’s reminding him. He’s forgotten. That happens sometimes with adults, when fate has dealt us a bad hand.”
Perception softened Aislinn’s thoughtful frown. “I’ve seen the change in you since Nick has come. He helped you remember.”
“Yes.”
“You love him.”
Though Felicity didn’t answer, the heat in her cheeks surely made her feelings blatantly apparent.
“Is it because of your scar that you slept in separate rooms last night? Are you ashamed to let him see it?” Aislinn asked.
“Separate…?” Felicity’s flush deepened. “That’s entirely too private a thing for you to take note of!”
“It’s hardly a secret! I saw him coming down from the fourth floor this morning. Have you told him how you feel?”
“I-I wouldn’t know how to begin.”
“Why is it so difficult? He loves you, too.”
Felicity had earlier hoped that might be possible. Even tried to look pretty for him today … to show him how happy she was to have him in her life—how grateful for his patience and generosity last night. She’d planned to discuss her barrenness and invite him to share her chambers tonight in hopes that by tomorrow, they’d be so bonded he’d never leave her, even after his father arrived. But now he was beyond angry, and she wasn’t sure how to bridge that gap between them without telling Jasper’s secret, which wasn’t hers to tell.
She fisted a hand in the gauzy chiffon of her skirt, feeling ridiculously overdressed. Everything had backfired. The resentment and pain in his voice when he accused her of distancing herself from him and the girls had hurt almost as much as the slash of the knife on that dark night so long ago. “I’m damaged … and a liar. Why would Nick feel anything for me?”
“Because you’re strong.” Aislinn came around the bed to catch Felicity’s hand. Felicity caught a breath, realizing her niece was level to her collarbone now. When had she grown so tall? “But most of all, because you’re flawed. Nick doesn’t want perfection. Do you know what he told me on the way back to the castle that day I snuck out?”
Felicity curled her niece’s fingers in hers and shook her head.
“’Frailty moves the heart in a way perfection cannot match.’ If you let yourself open up to him, he’ll never see your scar. He’ll see only you. His greatest masterpiece, shaped by his love.”
Felicity almost smiled, wanting to believe the romantic notions. Here in this tower where she’d reclaimed her childhood faith, she could almost let herself. She stroked Aislinn’s hair. “When did you become a lady? I must have blinked and missed your childhood. You shame me with your wisdom.”
Aislinn leaned into her touch. “Wisdom is learned. And I had a wonderful teacher.”
“Dearest heart.” Felicity cupped her chin and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I believe you’re so wise because you had more than just one.”
They looked at Jasper and the urn. Then they looked at one another and smiled.
“Tell him your secrets, Auntie. Every single one. They won’t matter a whit to him. I’m sure of it.”
Felicity squeezed her niece’s hand. Aislinn’s confidence stemmed from the misconception that Felicity hadn’t yet told Nick about her scar. It was so much more convoluted than that. He’d told her in the lookout post that he wanted everything he’d lost with Mina. Even if he tried to deny it, he still wanted that son.
Once he learned of her inadequacies as a woman, he would fall back into his obsession over Mina and Christian—a complication which could only be exacerbated by Jasper’s discovery about the pupas.
And Nick’s father’s impending arrival would drive the final wedge between them.
Yet none of that mattered any longer. Nick deserved to know of her barrenness and the investors; he deserved proof of her faith in him—that he would stand by his wedding vows for the girls’ sakes, if no other reason. They wouldn’t have another private moment together until after the picnic. So, she’d have to speak to him late this afternoon, before the gala. Until then, she’d give him a wonderful day filled with happy memories to cushion the toxic pain, in hopes he would forgive her enough to stay despite all her lies.
Thoughtful, she stroked her butterfly brooch. She would begin by helping him keep his promise of music to Lianna.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The mid-morning hike was long, but the sweet, damp air invigorating. Nick’s newly healed muscles thrived with the exercise.
Felicity and Aislinn had braided their hair like Lia’s. All the girls donned hats tied beneath their chins, along with trousers, blousy shirts, and boots to ease their trek. Felicity carried a rucksack filled with lunch and flasks for everyone. She had her whip looped around one shoulder. Nutmeg and Dinah trundled beside her. Most cats would prefer to stay home lazing in the sun, but like all the other females living on this Irish estate, this particular tabby didn’t fit the typical mold.
Nick grinned as he led Lia on her horse. She’d insisted on riding Butterscotch, being generous enough to give Aislinn a turn once when she’d felt winded.
Along the way, they stopped to admire slugs and fungi on tree branches and the girls picked an abundance of clover to stuff into the canvas bag hanging from the hobbie’s saddle horn.
Clouds rolled in as their caravan burst out of the forest and arrived on the moorland. Felicity had told Nick before they left that there was a special reason she wanted to bring him here—to the one bog he and Clooney hadn’t explored. It must have been for the stunning view.
Against the gray sky, blue mountains peaked and dipped in the distance, piercing the occasional band of fog. Long grasses waved on the gusts, giving sporadic glimpses of the bog which separated the moor from the cliffs overhead. The tall, rocky formations bordered the ocean far below on the other side. Though the slapping waves couldn’t be seen from here, a slight tan
g of salt attested to their presence.
Nick adjusted his hat and studied the cliffs and the ancient oaks which speared out sporadically from crevices and cracks in the rocks. He couldn’t help but compare those craggy heights to the barriers Felicity had built around her heart.
Clooney privately approached him about the phonograph and laudanum before they left for the picnic. As for the phonograph, Clooney said it made Felicity think of Jasper. That’s all he offered for an explanation, stating Nick should ask Felicity for any further details, but it was enough to humble Nick. He’d assumed it was all about their stunted relationship when it was in fact grief over her brother’s memory. Or something more, considering the way she’d acted last night in the dining hall—as if she’d seen a ghost. He was starting to think she had.
He only wished she would trust him enough to tell him. One thing he’d realized today … he would never knock down her walls. He would simply have to have the courage and patience to scale them.
The groundskeeper also admitted to being the one who moved the opium tincture. He claimed Felicity had nothing to do with it. This redeemed Nick’s hope. He could live with Clooney’s distrust, as long as his bride had faith in him.
His bride.
Everything had happened so fast over the past few weeks. He’d hardly had time to stand back and breathe, much less take stock. Now, a surge of possessiveness washed over him—the jarring reality that, as of yesterday, he at last had a family. A beautiful woman and two young ladies who would need his guardianship and loyalty for the rest of his living days.
“A Red Kite!” Lia bounced on her pony’s back, pointing to the sky, adding to the warm contentment flooding Nick’s heart.
Overhead, a majestic reddish-brown bird spread its white tufted wings, sweeping its feathers with long, deep flaps until it caught a current of wind. It soared with wings held aloft, its forked tail steering with a twist and a flex. From somewhere unseen, a call pierced the skies, shrill and high-pitched like the song of a sea bird. Then another Kite crossed the first one’s path, diving and looping until they were on the same course, landing gracefully within a majestic oak on the lowest cliff.
They’d seen all sorts of wildlife on the way here. An assortment of flitting birds, a fox chasing a family of rabbits, three deer, and a handful of large blue butterflies with wings so luminous they appeared to glow as they drifted in and out of the shade. But nothing compared to this.
Nick was reminded of that evening Felicity confessed her desire for wings. Taking a swig from his flask of water, he stole a look and found her staring steadfastly at the birds perched in the oak. Her lovely features, though shaded beneath her hat, held that same fragile sense of wonder and veneration as they had in the moonlit greenhouse. It was then he noticed she wasn’t wearing the butterfly brooch her mother had given her. Over his entire stay here, he’d never once seen her without it.
She must’ve felt his attention, for she turned her dark eyes on him, nearly taking his breath.
“Mates?” he asked, referring to the birds and their entwined flight.
“For life,” she commented.
“Made for one another,” Nick added.
“Or two broken pieces that found a fit,” she said with a gentle smile.
“Broken?” Lia clucked her tongue and reached for Nick so he’d help her off her pony. “You said they’re a dangered species, Auntie, like our caterpillars. Not broken.”
Nutmeg and Dinah greeted Lia by rubbing her legs as Nick set her feet on the ground.
“No, little goose.” Felicity slipped her whip from her shoulder then followed suit with the rucksack. “I said the Red Kites are endangered. And our caterpillars are nothing of the sort. In fact, I look for them to be flourishing again within the next few months.”
Nick caught the hopeful glance which passed between Felicity and Aislinn. The tension which had been so thick between them this morning, ever since he’d known them for that matter, had vanished. On the way here, they’d laced arms and prattled on about everything from the weather to fashion. It appeared they’d worked things out after he’d left the dining hall. At least one good thing came of that nasty interlude.
Nick turned Butterscotch out to graze on yellow oat grass and sweet clover. Nutmeg and Dinah darted off, chasing some tiny white butterflies toward a lacy spread of flowers a few yards north. Nick couldn’t help imagining how Johnny would’ve loved this … joining them for the hike … exploring. He would’ve made things interesting by chasing Dinah into that blossom field.
Upon that thought, Nick took off his hat for a closer look at the pale blue flowers waving on the wind. His breath caught in his chest. That’s what Felicity had wanted him to see. Why she’d chosen this spot. The entire valley was covered with forget-me-nots. A field-full of “I’m sorry-s.” They’d have plenty to go around for all the years to come.
A smile broke on his face and he glanced Felicity’s way. She looked up with a charming shrug, then proceeded to ready the picnic.
She unfolded a blanket and spread it on the ground, instructing the girls to sit on the corners so the wind wouldn’t snatch them. She’d chosen a spot at the edge of the forest where several giant fir trees shared a thick spread of moss. The growth draped the lengths of the middle branches, one tree to the next, forming a cover so dense it provided an umbrella affect. When the mist started to fall, they all gathered beneath to stay dry as they ate. Soft droplets pattered around them—a lulling rhythm which counteracted Lia’s uncontained excitement.
“It’s like we’re in a grass hut, don’t you think Sissy? We’re pioneers.” Lia pushed back her hat so it hung at her shoulder blades.
Aislinn smiled and opened Felicity’s rucksack. “I daresay the pioneers never had ceilings this tall.” She skirted her gaze up to the mossy cover. “Or cuisine this fine.”
From a parchment wrapper, she pulled out something that looked suspiciously like a deformed hand: fleshy and pale pink, with two enormously fat fingers and two miniature thumbs growing off either side of the wrist, like dew claws. She placed it on Nick’s tin plate then drew out three identical ones to share with her aunt and sister.
Nick dragged his hat off and lifted the food to his nose. It smelled of vinegar, cloves, and onion, and was firm and cold to the touch. Not a very appetizing combination.
Felicity exchanged amused glances with the girls. “We decided that you should sample traditional Irish picnic fare. These are pickled crúibíns.”
Nick frowned.
“Pig’s feet!” Lia blurted then covered her mouth to stifle a snort.
“Ah…” Nick set it back on his plate. “And here I thought we had a shortage of pigs.” He cast a teasing glance to Felicity.
“Oh, no worries there.” Felicity teased back. “Cook has a pantry filled with jars of crúibíns. She also has some knuckles preserved. There’ll be no shortage anytime soon.”
Nick rubbed his hands together in feigned greediness. “Mmm. What an unmerited stroke of good fortune.” He snapped out his napkin and tucked it in his collar. “Where’s my fork? Time to dig in.”
The dulcet chime of Felicity’s laugh sent delicious tremors through his spine.
Aislinn beamed. “There’s no need for silverware. We only brought finger foods.”
“Would you like to see what we packed in your rucksack?” Lia crawled to the bag Nick had placed beside his thigh. A rain-scented gust of wind caught the blanket corner where she’d been sitting and Aislinn slapped a boot down to hold it in place.
“Hmm.” Nick cringed as Lia dug out something wrapped within a towel. “Not sure you’ll be able to top pig’s feet. Unless…” He opened the towel at Lia’s prompting, revealing thick bread studded with dried fruit and cut into triangles. “Surely I can’t be so lucky. It’s an ear sandwich!”
All of his companions burst out laughing this time, resurrecting that earlier warmth in his chest. He’d thought of Johnny Boy often over the past weeks, but the high he once ex
perienced at the dog’s comical responses to his jokes couldn’t compare to the giddy rapture these three girls evoked in him.
He looked at each of their flushed, glowing faces as they babbled and plopped an assortment of foreign samplings on his plate. With a quiet rain sweeping across the moorland and a mossy roof over his head, he noshed on fried potato farls, whortleberries, and pigs’ feet. For dessert, little Lia popped a bite of barmbrack bread spiced with sultans and raisins into his mouth. She claimed it a delicacy, though it wasn’t nearly as sweet as his new family’s doting upon him.
The effect they’d had upon his life in such a short time left him reeling. This lovely trio seemed to truly accept him just as he was. But was he worthy of such a gift? He sipped the whiskey Felicity offered from a flask just for the two of them. The drink burned all the way into his chest.
His twin brother had often pointed out how Nick ran at the first sign of trouble; how he was too much of a coward to face his inner demons.
But by living here—isolated in Ireland—he’d never have to face Julian’s perfection again. He could finally stop seeing himself through the eyes of past failings. Perhaps his affection for Felicity and the girls would be enough to make him into the man his parents once thought him incapable of being.
Perhaps it already had…
“You ate it all!” Lia pounced into his lap.
Caught up in his meditations, Nick hadn’t realized there was nothing left on his plate—short of a pig’s ankle bone. He buried his nose in the sprite’s milky scented braids. Indeed, his belly felt full, though he couldn’t recall a single flavor or texture.
Felicity crouched in front of him. She pushed aside a stray clump of hair from his forehead. “You’re far too quiet. Is it not setting well on your stomach?”
Without a word, he caught her chin and pulled her to him, sandwiching Lia between them as he drew his bride into a kiss filled with all the aching tenderness of his epiphany. She dropped to her knees, melting into him with a moan as his hands moved and knocked her hat askew. Lia burrowed her way out from their entwining bodies.
The Glass Butterfly Page 30