by Meara Platt
Lord Wrexham grinned at her. “We’ll see if the de Wolfe family can help you out.”
While he left to speak to his father, Lettie sank back in her chair beside Brynne’s bed, trying not to allow her heart to soar. What if the earl did know something? What if he refused to tell them? More likely, what if he sadly assured them that there was no connection between Brynne’s wolf and the de Wolfe family?
Suddenly feeling completely spent, she rested her head against Brynne’s chest as he shifted onto his back once more. He felt a little warmer now, but the heat could have been coming from her, for her skin was flush with excitement after her conversation with Lord Wrexham. She hoped it was Brynne’s warmth and he was truly starting to heal.
Her tears continued to fall because the wild swings from despair to hope and back again had wrung so much out of her. Still crying softly, she put her arms around Brynne because she needed to do something to ease her fears. Holding him close and feeling the renewed strength of his heartbeat went a long way toward allaying those fears. “Please wake up. I can’t do this alone. I need you, Brynne.”
His silence left her in despair once more, but after a moment she suddenly felt the soft brush of his hand against her cheek. “Lettie, sweetheart.”
His voice was a croaking rasp, but it sounded like music to her ears. She sat up and smiled. “You’re awake!”
“What happened?” He glanced around and must have noticed he was naked under the covers. She would have been burying herself under the covers, too embarrassed ever to show her face again, but he had no such qualms about his nakedness. He arched a dark eyebrow and grinned. “Wicked girl. Still trying to seduce me?”
She laughed. “Absolutely.”
He traced his finger along her jaw and momentarily turned serious. “How is little Max?”
“He’s fine. Howling and terrorizing the de Wolfe staff. Not to mention that he aged his parents about fifty years.”
“I’m glad he’s back in form. I was afraid that I’d be too late.”
“The little terror is strong. So are you. Oh, Brynne, it was such a close call! I thought I’d lost you, too.” Her lips began to quiver, but she tried hard not to burst into tears again. He was awake. This was a joyous moment, for Brynne and little Max were safe. “We have to talk seriously about our future. Our future. Together. You can’t leave me behind, Brynne. I won’t let you.”
She saw by the furrow of his brow that he was going to protest, but he didn’t have the chance to speak before the Earl of Wrexham hobbled in. He was a tall, distinguished looking gentleman with a full head of white hair and intelligent, dark eyes.
Lettie, sensing the importance of this moment, moved aside to allow the earl access to Brynne. He walked slowly to his bedside, leaning heavily on his cane and obviously in pain from the gout that had plagued him for days. He studied Brynne for a long moment before he spoke. “Young man,” he said in a voice of gentle authority, “care to show me your birthmark.”
Brynne didn’t appear pleased about it, but he nodded and turned slightly to show the earl the back of his shoulder. Lettie tried her best to show no feeling, but she was too excited to contain herself. There had to be a reason why the earl was staring at it so intently.
“My lord,” Brynne said quietly, “it’s just a mark. Doesn’t mean anything, nor do I expect that it is in any way connected to your fine family.”
The earl said nothing for another long moment. “I know another who bore the identical mark.”
Lettie gasped.
Brynne was frowning.
She reached over and took his hand, but her thoughts were on her guardian angel. Please, Jeremiah! Is this why you had us save Max? I’m sorry that I called you cowardly.
“Who, my lord?” Lettie said, stepping in when Brynne said nothing. What was he thinking?
“Ours is a proud family, directly descended from Atticus de Wolfe, the famed Lion of the North. He was a brave and ferocious fighter, fiercely loyal to his family. We’ve always been a close and loving family, which was why... Brynne, let me sit and chat with you a while.”
He sank into the chair that Lettie had earlier vacated. “Lady Letitia, would you allow me a moment alone with him?”
No! She thought her heart would burst from the anticipation. She turned to Brynne, expecting that he would agree and request that she leave so that they could speak in private. Why did men have to be so secretive? Honestly, secrecy was overrated. But this was such an important moment that if Brynne wanted her to leave, she would swallow her disappointment and do as he asked. Sighing in resignation, she bent to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you.”
He grinned at her, somehow managing to look innocent and seductive at the same time. “You’re going to put your ear to the keyhole, aren’t you?”
She shot him an indignant look, but the blush now creeping up her cheeks gave away her plan. So what if she was?
Brynne shook his head and chuckled. “Then I suppose I may as well ask you to stay.”
“I can stay?” Her mouth gaped open in surprise.
He reached out and tucked a finger under her chin to close it. “Yes, Lettie.” Then he turned serious. “You brought me here, gave me this chance. You belong here as much as I do.”
He took her hand in his and nudged her to sit beside him. She hadn’t minded at all while they were alone and he was on the verge of death, but now that he was recovered and his muscles were on sinful display, she suddenly felt awkward. “You have no clothes on.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You removed them.”
She began to sputter. “Yes, I don’t deny it. But it had to be done to save your life. I had no choice. It isn’t at all the same thing.”
She turned to the old earl who seemed to be enjoying her embarrassment. “I had to rip them off...” No, that sounded even worse. “Because the big oaf was going into shock.” That much was true. The fact that she had taken exceptional delight in running her hands over his big, handsome body was of no moment and merely a happy coincidence.
In any event, Brynne now had the covers securely drawn to his waist, and even though his chest was shockingly bare, who was to know that she’d been in here and seen him in this compromising position other than the earl, his son, and a few servants? The de Wolfe family was not about to let word slip out. “My lord, you had something important to tell Brynne.”
The earl turned to Brynne as though questioning his decision to allow her to stay, but Brynne simply squeezed her hand in assurance. “She saved me and little Max,” he said with unmistakable gratitude and affection. “Lettie belongs by my side.”
“Forever?” she asked. Well, she had to ask, for she wasn’t likely to find him so compliant again.
Instead of responding, he turned to the earl. “Will you please tell me who I am?”
Chapter 8
The cold that had ravaged Brynne’s body now turned to the heat of excitement, but it was also mingled with dread. What would the earl tell him? At first, Brynne had wanted Lettie to leave the room as the earl suggested, for he wasn’t certain how he would respond to the news whether ultimately good or bad. He expected to be battered and shaken like a ship tossed about on a violent sea.
But whatever the upheaval, there was only one person he trusted to see him through this difficult storm and that was Lettie. Being her irrepressible self, she would take it upon herself to heal any damage to his heart, just as she always had. He wasn’t certain that anyone could ever fully heal the damage of all these lost years, but if anyone could, it was Lettie.
He glanced at her and saw that her throat appeared constricted and tears were already welling in her eyes. She looked like a kitten about to cry, rousing his protective instincts once again. He never liked to see her overset, but at the same time, he knew it was because she cared about him, worried about him as no one ever had.
He squeezed her hand once more to reassure her.
Brynne had yet to hear a word and he already felt overwhelmed, his heart pounding t
hrough his chest. Grief, fear, and terror thrummed through his veins. He wasn’t used to sitting quietly or waiting patiently, but he knew it was a difficult conversation and saw that the earl was struggling with how to begin.
Brynne wanted to give the old man a gentle verbal nudge, but he’d waited almost twenty five years for his answer and could wait a little longer. He could tell by the way Lettie gripped his hand that she was also eager, but in this, she was going to let the men take the lead.
After what seemed an eternity, but could only have been a few moments, the earl wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and spoke. “I had a younger sister named Isabeau. She was a beautiful girl, strong and spirited, much like the wife of my famous ancestor, Atticus de Wolfe, as told in the tales passed down through the generations. My sister Isabeau was your mother.”
Lettie’s eyes grew wide and she stared at Brynne in anguish.
Brynne sat motionless as a hundred thoughts suddenly swam in his head. Isabeau de Wolfe... no, his mother? How is it possible? Why would she abandon him? Had she abandoned him? “My lord, you speak of your sister in terms of the past. You said she was my mother.”
Brynne wasn’t certain whether his hands or Lettie’s were shaking. Perhaps both. She edged closer as the shaking spread throughout his body. At first he thought to bury his feelings and not allow his turmoil to show, but realized that Lettie wouldn’t want him to build his stone walls and shut her out as he had been doing for years.
Lettie deserved better from him.
A deep sorrow tore through his heart, for he didn’t need to hear the earl’s answer to know that Isabeau was dead. His mother, dead. He would never have the chance to know her.
“I’m so sorry,” the earl said softly. “I loved her very much.”
The earl had yet to speak of Brynne’s father. Had the man gotten her with child and then refused to marry Isabeau? Brynne wondered if that was why he’d been cast off and left for dead on the Woodburne’s doorstep. He was an unwanted bastard. And yet, it did not appear to be the de Wolfe way to abandon one of their own, whether legitimate or illegitimate. “Who is my father?”
Brynne wasn’t yet sure what he’d do if the man were still alive.
“He was the Marquis of Danforth.”
That word again - was - Brynne silently swore that he hated the word. “What happened to him?” Had the de Wolfes killed him in revenge for ruining Isabeau? He thought about Lettie put in that position and had no doubt he’d kill any man who harmed her in that way. Of course, since Lettie loved him, he was likely to be the very man to ruin her. Which was why he’d decided to leave England forever.
He didn’t know yet whether to thank Lettie for her persistence or rue the day he’d ever met her. No, he silently chided himself. Lettie was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“He died trying to save you and your mother. Isabeau was his wife and theirs was a love match. I would never have consented to their marriage otherwise. They’d been husband and wife for three happy years by the time you were born. You were your father’s pride and joy.”
Brynne felt another jolt, this one tearing his heart in two. His parents had loved him. His parents were married. His father was a marquis and his mother was the sister of the Earl of Wrexham. What in bloody blazes did it all mean?
Lettie cast him a soft smile, her beautiful green eyes shimmering as though to say, “I knew you were a somebody.” That would be a conversation for later. Right now, he wanted to learn everything he could about his parents. Parents! Lord, that sounded good.
“You were abducted by one of your father’s unsavory cousins, a dissolute gentleman - and I use the term gentleman loosely, for he was a base and repulsive creature. The man had gotten into trouble in the gaming hells and come to your father for help in paying his gambling debts. Your father refused. He’d helped the scoundrel once before and warned that it would be the first and only time he would do so. He counseled his cousin to end his bad habits, but the man paid him no heed. When your father denied him the funds, he concocted a scheme to abduct you and hold you for ransom.”
“Sweet mercy.” Brynne had a horrible feeling about what had happened and listened in aching silence as the earl continued.
“He’d hired some dockside ruffians to assist him in the abduction and bribed your nanny as well. Your parents were supposed to be out for the evening and only the nanny present to watch over you. But your parents returned early and surprised them all. The ruffians panicked and killed them.”
Lettie’s resolve collapsed and she burst into tears. Brynne took her into his embrace, holding her close so that he felt the warmth of her trembling lips against his chest.
She was still crying softly, doing her best not to distract him as the earl, his voice also shaking as he struggled to maintain his control, continued with the rest of the sordid tale. “The cousin and your nanny ran off, but I think she must have felt remorse for what had happened. The cousin wanted you killed, but instead, the nanny only pretended to do it and left you on a stranger’s doorstep.”
“She left me with the Woodburnes.”
He nodded. “Since Brynne is your true given name, I suspect that she must have left a note revealing this one small item of information. When we caught up to the pair, they told us you were dead... and your little body had been tossed into a lake.”
Now the earl’s tears were flowing down his cheeks unchecked. “We quietly searched every body of water in the Lake District and finally gave up. In our grief, we turned inward and said nothing to those outside our immediate family. Had we not been so damn secretive, someone in the neighborhood might have realized what we were doing and led us to you sooner. But we thought you were dead and didn’t want the public trampling over what might have been your watery grave.”
Brynne shook his head, confused. “What makes you so certain that I’m the lost child? If those villains told you that I was dead, why are you so quick to accept me?”
The earl continued, his breaths ragged and his voice still shaking. “The cousin and his band of ruffians were all hanged within a month of the crime. The nanny was imprisoned for the rest of her life. Five years ago, while close to death, she confessed to one of the guards that she’d spared your life. She refused to tell him where she’d abandoned you, or by that point in her illness, she simply couldn’t remember. We’ve had Bow Street runners searching for you these past five years, following every lead and trying to revive a cold trail. These false leads had us searching every which way.”
Brynne still wasn’t quite convinced. “Why didn’t the nanny tell you sooner? She could have bargained with you for that information.”
“I don’t suppose we’ll ever know why she withheld it. Perhaps it was fear that we’d order her hanged once she’d told us. If only she had, we would have moved heaven and earth to find you.”
“I think it takes a certain warped evil to harm a child,” Lettie said. “Even to agree to abduct a child and destroy its family so cruelly. I can’t begin to imagine the pain you all have suffered.”
“We did suffer,” the earl admitted, “But no more than Brynne has. Now, it’s all been brought to a happy end. You’re my nephew, Brynne. More important, the Marquis of Danforth’s father is still alive. He’ll want to meet you as soon as possible.” A wistful smile crossed his face. “He happens to be the Duke of Bradford. You’re his rightful heir.”
Lettie gasped and coughed at the same time. “The Duke of Bradford? As in one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in England?” She shook her head and laughed dazedly.
Brynne wasn’t laughing. This was too much, too fast. He’d gone from being a nobody to not only being a part of the de Wolfe family, but the Duke of Bradford’s family as well. He couldn’t take it all in. Nor could he trust the earl’s easy acceptance of him. Would the duke be so accepting of a newly discovered grandson? He doubted it. “All this because of a damn birthmark?”
Now the earl was smiling and shaking his head. �
�There’s also the fact that you and your father could pass for twins. I knew your father very well. We were good friends as well as related by marriage. The resemblance is unmistakable. You’ll see for yourself shortly. The duke will expect you to visit Bradford Hall as soon as possible.”
“I’ll make sure Brynne does,” Lettie assured the earl before Brynne had the chance to respond. “Even if I have to drag him there myself.”
“Lettie–”
“You know you can be impossibly stubborn, Brynne. You have a life and a family in England now. You can’t leave them.”
“We’ll discuss it later.”
“When?”
The earl cleared his throat to remind them he had more to say. “The duke has an enormous portrait of his son painted when he was about your age, Brynne. It was completed shortly before he died. You’ll understand why I have no doubt of your identity once you view the portrait. You’ll feel as though you’re looking in a mirror. But you won’t be able to see it right away because the duke will be joining us here in a few days to celebrate Christmas as he does each and every year.”
Lettie smiled at the earl. “How wonderful, you’ll have a Christmas miracle of your own to celebrate.”
“Indeed, we will.” The earl returned her smile and then turned to Brynne with a hearty, joyful laugh. “Welcome to the family, Brynne.”
Brynne merely nodded, for he was still taking in the sudden and dramatic change in his circumstances. He’d been a nobody for so long, that it would take several weeks for everything to sink in, possible several months or even years.
Or he would regain consciousness and discover none of this conversation had been real?
Lettie must have understood his thoughts, for she suddenly pinched him. “You’re awake. You’ve really found your family.” She didn’t appear to have any trouble accepting his new situation. She smiled that beautiful smile of hers, and then turned to the earl and threw her arms around him, kissing him soundly on the cheek for good measure. “Thank you. He’s wonderful. I know you’ll all love him as I do.”