“Moving permanently?” Byrnes clutched at his heart. “Oh, my dear young man. Ireland will forever be my home. I have green blood running through my veins. It is the life source of my being. If only…” He cast his gaze down to the carpet, knitting his broad forehead.
“If only what, Mr. Byrnes?” Lady Aberthorne pressed.
He lifted his bright eyes to the marchioness. “My lady, it seems an Irishman can only find sanctuary in exile, amongst strangers abroad.”
“Just as well. Ireland needs stability now more than ever.” Lord Castlevane wandered into the parlor, and my eyes narrowed for a moment before I looked over my shoulder at the statesman. The room seemed to grow smaller with each step he took toward Mr. Byrnes.
“My dear old friend.” Lord Castlevane pumped the Irishman’s hand. “I am so pleased to be reunited with you and Miss Lydia once more.”
Patrick blinked, the panic in his eyes giving way to his studied, jovial air. “Castlevane. I didn’t expect you to be acquainted with the Aberthornes. Rising up in the world, are we?”
The smile on Castlevane’s face faded, and he let go of Patrick’s hand.
“Oh, Lord Castlevane is trying to woo Lord Aberthorne into getting some ghastly Act passed,” Lady Aberthorne said. “He fancies himself quite clever at politics.”
Patrick nodded. “Lord Castlevane has always known how to play these games. Always knew how to line up all the pieces just to knock them all down.” He made a violent gesture with his hand, and punctuated it with a loud guffaw.
Lord Castlevane could do nothing but join in the strained laughter, with Lady Aberthorne following suit. I rolled my shoulders back, sneaking another glance at Miss Lydia Byrnes. These horrible people and their politics aside, no one seemed to notice or care about the young woman sitting at death’s door in the corner. I had to find a way to approach her without embarrassing her or causing a scene. I edged closer to the end of my seat, opening my mouth to ask an innocent question about how she had fared traveling over the channel. The sound of pattering footsteps across the other end of the parlor caught my attention.
Audrey breezed into the room, her hair loose at her shoulders, her eyes wide. “Papa? What are you doing here?”
Chapter 22
Audrey
No. No this wasn’t possible. Papa and Lyddy were here. Not in Dublin. Here. I swallowed hard, my skin prickling as I became aware of everyone staring at me, waiting for me to move. Then I looked at Lyddy. Really looked at her.
Oh, goodness.
When I left Lyddy two years ago, she had been frail, yes, but not this pale-faced skeletal person. How could she have failed to mention how ill she had become? How could Father…? Of course Father wouldn’t notice her waning health, not with the theatre falling down around his ears and his finances obliterated. No. He had only ever thought of himself, his daughters only as useful to him as they were charming. And with Lyddy’s sunken face and dull hair, she was no longer an asset to him.
I ran to her side and collected her in my arms. “Lyddy, my dear Lyddy,” I whispered.
She curled into me, and tears pressed against my eyelids with how brittle her bones felt beneath my hands.
A heavy palm rested on my shoulder, and I turned, expecting to see Father. A sharp word rested on my tongue, but when I peered up, Joseph’s concerned face filled my vision. He sat down on the other side of Lyddy and took her hand.
“Miss Lydia,” he said. “Your sister has told me so much about you.”
I blinked, my heart lifting. Joseph was here, and he could fix her. He could fix anyone.
“You seem very tired from your journey.” His voice remained steady and calm, but his watchful eyes studied her, looking closely at her glassy pupils, her cracked lips.
Lyddy pressed her hand to her forehead. “I do have a bit of a headache.”
“Are you staying at a nearby inn?” Joseph asked. “Perhaps Miss Byrnes and I could escort you back, and I can take a look at that headache?”
Father interrupted. “We’re staying at the Three Kings before moving on to London.”
Lady Aberthorne rang a bell. “Oh my, that will not do. I cannot have the father of Roisin, a King of the Western Hills of Connacht, staying at an inn. I shall see you have rooms here for now.” A servant entered, and she gave him a series of orders.
My throat tightened. The last thing I needed was wearing out the Aberthornes with my father making some drunken spectacle of himself. “Your ladyship, I know I speak for my family when I say we cannot impose upon your house.”
She waved me away. “Nonsense. It is an honor to host such a lively party. With Lord Aberthorne on the mend, I would love to have your family here to distract me. Your father mentioned he is going to teach me some of your language.”
I smiled at the handsome woman. “How lovely.”
She rose, flashing Papa a wide grin. “I would love to hear you and your daughter in a duet. Perhaps one of Thomas Moore’s Melodies? I have it on great authority, Mr. Byrnes, that you are in possession of a fine Irish tenor.”
Papa bowed, his cheeks pink. From a genuine blush or from drink, I couldn’t tell.
“It would be my pleasure, my lady,” he said. “Audrey has sung your praises as her patron, and we are moved by your hospitality.”
Lady Aberthorne looked over her shoulder and winked at me. A small, nervous flutter stirred in my belly, and I held Lyddy tighter to my chest. She could never know what dark and strange things happened beneath Aberthorne Manor.
“Let us retire until the evening.” The lady nodded and marched from the room. Lord Castlevane followed suit with a stiff bow.
“Miss Lydia,” Joseph said, “I know you must be exhausted from your journey, but I would like to inquire about your headache, with your sister’s consent, of course.”
Joseph gave me a pointed stare, and I nodded.
“Excuse me, young man.” Papa coughed. “But I am Lyddy’s father, and I—”
Audrey stood up and raised her palm. “Enough. Dr. Moorland is one of the best doctors in England. He should see to Lyddy. Certainly no one else has been looking after her.”
Papa lowered his voice and stalked over to me. “Now you see here, young lady.”
Joseph rose and stepped in between us. “Mr. Byrnes, I assure you I do not mean to sow seeds of dissent within your family. With your permission, I would like to examine Miss Byrnes. I know you care about your daughters very much, and I would like to see if I can help in some small way.”
My heart leapt in my throat at Joseph’s words, and my hand itched to slip my palm into his. His steady presence made the entire situation somehow manageable, and I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding.
Papa’s eyes narrowed on the young physician. “By all means,” he said, his stubborn face breaking into a broad smile. “If my daughter vouches for you, I’m sure you must be a clever one, indeed.”
Joseph nodded and extended his arm for Lyddy. I turned to follow them, but Papa took hold of my sleeve and drew me back.
“Audrey, dear, I need to have a quick word with you.”
A hot swell of rage bloomed in my chest. “Papa, I should really help Dr. Moorland with Lyddy.”
The smell of clove and cardamom hit me, and I glanced over. Joseph stood at my side, his gaze narrowing on my father. “Would you like me to stay, Miss Byrnes?”
He shot Joseph a dark stare. “It’s in regards to a family matter.” He turned to me, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “It’s about Lyddy.”
A cold sweat broke out on my forehead, and I swallowed hard, brushing my hand against Joseph’s arm. “Please go ahead and see to my sister. I will be there shortly.”
Joseph hesitated, his fingers curling in his palm. “Of course.” He bowed to my father and gave Lyddy his arm, and the pair departed the room.
As soon as they left, I guided Papa to a window seat. “What are you doing here? The last I heard—”
He raised a hand.
“Audrey, the theatre has shut down. We’re ruined.”
I spluttered, crossing my arms over my stomach. “Yes, well, that much I knew. What were you thinking performing that play?”
“Have you read it?”
I raised my eyes to the ceiling. “Papa, I don’t have to. I know it’s the same rebel throwback nonsense you’ve been performing for years. You didn’t think Dublin Castle wouldn’t notice? You think after ’98 they would allow you to continue to—”
“Audrey, enough!” he hissed.
I leaned back against the wall, staring out at the Aberthornes’ manicured lawns, the lines of emerald and pale green crisscrossing in a checkered pattern. “I don’t understand…”
“No, you don’t understand.” Papa leaned forward, wagging a finger in my face. “You left us, out to seek fame and fortune with the likes of the Elliots and the Aberthornes.”
I whirled on him. “And what choice did I have? Waste away as a governess, little more than an indentured servant? And by the way, who paid your rent for the last year? Who paid Lyddy’s doctors’ bills? Don’t you dare blame me for trying to make my way in the world. What else was I supposed to do?”
A red sheen passed over Papa’s face, a bright blue vein pulsing in his forehead. He opened his mouth to shout, but shook his head, taking a deep breath instead.
“And what are you doing here?” I continued. “I’m trying to build something with the Aberthornes. Lady Aberthorne is willing to patronize my next novel. Do you think she’s going to put up all the Byrnes for long? Perhaps we’ll have Lyddy take up writing!”
Papa’s face fell, and he stared into his lap, wringing his hands.
“What is it?”
He didn’t speak but bit his lip, glancing out the window. A tingling feeling passed from the crown of my head to my toes.
“Papa, what’s wrong. What’s wrong with Lyddy?”
His chest puffed out as he took in another long breath. “Well, you see, Audrey. It wasn’t me who wrote The Rebel Sons.”
I blinked, trying to comprehend what he told me. “You didn’t write…? Wait.”
No. Please don’t say it.
“Your sister wrote it.”
My chest tightened, my hands clutching onto my dress, the sweat in my palms soaking through the fabric.
“No,” I whispered.
“She’s written the company’s past four plays.”
“No,” I choked out the word.
“The thing of it is, well, I was just so busy with the running of the theatre, and she offered. It was not a horrible arrangement, you understand, and all her plays have been critically acclaimed. The actors love her dialogue, and while I may have revised a few of my monologues, I have to say, your sister has a real knack for the theatre. She might even give you a run for your money, Audrey—”
I raised a hand. “Be quiet.”
“And we kept my name on the playbill, more for notoriety’s sake than anything else. Your sister is far too frail for the limelight, you know that, Audrey. It was her wish, after all, but how was I supposed to know she would rouse the ire of Dublin Castle? I ask you.”
I gritted my teeth. “I asked you to be silent.”
“Has Ireland come so low we can no longer have our theatre? The whole affair is overblown.”
My eyes widened. “Papa, you are under investigation for sedition!”
He shook his head. “No, Audrey. They asked us to shut down, but there have been no formal charges. No investigation.”
“That’s because Lord Castlevane has asked them to abstain until…”
Papa studied me. “Until what?”
“Nothing, it’s…”
“Is Castlevane head of the investigation?”
“Well, he’s—”
He slapped his hand on his thigh. “I should have known. That rat.”
“Papa—”
“He’s always been out to get the theatre. Friendship means nothing to him. He’s about as Irish as I am, but all he’s cared about is his political career.” He slammed his fist in his palm. “Bloody bastard!”
“I’ve asked him to not leak it to the papers for another week, but until then—”
His brow knitted. “You’ve talked to Lord Castlevane about this?”
“Of course, and he’s—”
“You know, he’s always favored you, Audrey.”
Heat rose in my cheeks, and I shook my head. “Yes, Papa, but…”
“Once, he even asked me permission to court you. He was just a lowly second son, and I knew you could rise to better. But since the death of his older brother, his fortunes have surely changed, eh?” Papa grasped my hand and squeezed, his eyes twinkling.
“Yes, I know, but—”
“He wouldn’t throw his father-in-law in jail, surely.”
I shook my head. “No, definitely not. But Papa, I don’t…”
“What? You don’t like him? He’s rich enough, Audrey. You won’t do much better. And what are you now? Twenty-five?”
I shook my head. “I’m twenty-six, Papa.”
“See!” He pressed. “All the more reason.”
“Papa, I don’t love him!”
He leaned forward. “And if the investigation goes forth, how long do you think it will be until they find it was Lyddy who wrote those plays? Actors are not good secret keepers, and they all know it. Dublin Castle would find out. You want to send your sister to jail? Or worse? In her condition, she wouldn’t survive transportation, if it came to that. Do you know what happens aboard those ships?”
I closed my eyes, tears pressing against my eyelids. My throat closed off, and my chest caved inward. Not Lyddy. Oh, please not Lyddy.
“How…” I could barely form the words. “How could you let this happen? Why didn’t you…?” A sob escaped my mouth, and I slapped my hand against it, swallowing the sound. I couldn’t fall apart now. My sister needed me, and I was the only person who could help her.
“Audrey,” Papa began, “I never imagined our theatre would be met with such censure, but here we are. There’s only one way out of this I can see. I know you don’t love Castlevane, but perhaps in time…?”
I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “Yes. Perhaps.”
He clapped his hands. “Brilliant. Castlevane will drop the investigation, and we’ll be able to reopen the theatre.”
“Of course.” The walls closed in on me, and I collected my skirts and darted away, clasping my hands together to keep them from trembling. I had no choice. Only Castlevane would be able to intervene with my publisher on my behalf, and Lyddy…poor Lyddy. It was one thing for me to write gothic romances with veiled insinuations, but while undoubtedly brilliant, The Rebel Son by all accounts was pure Irish national pride. I paced the floor, shaking my head, trying to understand what had gotten into my sister—my tiny, frail, sickly sister. She knew the risks she took, but she wrote those plays anyway. Where had the ideas come from? I knew she used to listen to Charles go on about Irish liberation, but those were the fanciful ideas of a young boy in love with the revolution. We were women. What did the revolution have to do with us? Even if a free Ireland could exist, we wouldn’t be able to vote in it. Sit in parliament. Go to university. I stared in the direction Lyddy and Joseph had left, and placed a hand to my forehead, tracing the scar I received from that one night in The Order. Lyddy had not given the slightest implication of her activities, and the sense of betrayal stung. She should have told me. I should have known.
“I’ll go speak to him, and we’ll announce the engagement tonight.”
“I’m sorry?” I said, turning around. For a moment Papa appeared as one big green blur, but I shook my head, and he came into focus again.
“The engagement?” he said. “We’ll announce it at dinner. Give us something to celebrate.”
“I…” With a swift bow, I turned to leave the room. “I need to see to Lyddy.”
As soon as I left the room, I turned into a quiet hallway and rested
my forehead against the silk wallpaper lining the corridor. Lord Castlevane’s wife. The one man I swore never to marry, and now he was my only choice. To save my novel, to save my sister, I would have to give myself over to him. Joseph’s face flashed across my mind, and I ached for him, a primal need uncoiling inside me like a dark creature. I wanted nothing more than to give myself up to it, grab him, and beg him to run away with me. To the Continent. To anywhere. But who would take care of Lyddy? No, there was only one thing to do for it.
When I reached Lyddy’s room, Joseph was just leaving. He closed the door and turned to me with a wide smile. The sight of it almost sent a fresh flood of tears from my eyes.
“How is she?” I choked out.
“She’s sleeping now, but she should be fine.”
“What’s wrong with her? The doctors mentioned chlorosis, said it was a nervous condition that would regulate as she grew older—”
Joseph shook his head, cutting me off. “Chlorosis is nothing but a made up sickness created by male doctors who have no idea how a uterus works.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure if I understand.”
He placed a hand on his chest and bowed. “I apologize. Allow me to speak plainly. I believe your sister suffers from a blood disorder. It is called anemia. Essentially, her body is not producing enough of what she needs to keep her blood stable, and the bloodletting her fool physicians made her endure made her condition very dire.”
I pressed my hand to my throat. “What can we do?”
“She needs iron supplements. And there are herbs I can prescribe as well. Also bone broth, a lot of red meat, greens like spinach. Broccoli.”
“Broccoli? That’s it?”
Joseph shrugged. “It is not that simple. She will likely always suffer from this condition, but with the right supplements, she will be able to manage it.”
My heart swelled, and I threw my arms around him and clutched him tight, his familiar smell washing over me. “Oh, Joseph…”
Then his hands were in my hair, tightening across my back. Our lips found each other, and his tongue invaded my mouth, darting and seeking out mine. He fumbled for a doorknob behind him, and we stumbled into a small sitting room. With one flick of his wrist, Joseph turned the lock, and he tore at his coat, his cravat falling to the floor. Some compelling force drew my fingers to the buttons of my dress, to my stays, but he couldn’t wait. My dress dangled loose on my shoulders even as he shoved his hips between my thighs. He palmed my bottom with his wide hands and slipped me up against the wall. I knew I should have stopped him, told him what had happened, but his cock teased my slick folds, my opening. The sensation sent a warm pulsing wave of desire through me, and I surrendered to it.
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