* * *
Midmorning the following day found Simon at Matthew Brody’s residence. It had not been difficult to locate. His impatience to see Henrietta and to discover her reason for coming to Paris was eating away at him. He could not bear another hour, let alone another day, of this awful suspense.
Matthew put down the newspaper he was reading and rose from the chair when the visitor was admitted. He watched Lord Tremain enter the room, having half expected him to call and heartily relieved that he had. But after his cold treatment of Henrietta at the ball, Matthew had no intention of making it easy for him.
The two men shook hands and exchanged polite greetings. Matthew offered him a chair and the two men sat facing each other.
‘I trust you are well, Matthew?’ Simon said, sincerely glad to see him again and to express his gratitude once more for providing shelter for him in Scotland.
Matthew was studying him. ‘I am well and I can’t tell you how relieved I was to learn you had managed to reach France safely. But I do not think it is me you have come to see. You wish to see Henrietta.’
‘That is the purpose of my visit.’
‘Then it is as well you have called today. We are leaving for Italy shortly,’ Matthew stated, standing up and walking to a table where he poured some Madeira into two glasses and handing one to Simon. ‘The climate in Paris at this present time is not to my niece’s liking.’
The glass in Simon’s hand froze halfway to his lips. ‘Why? She’s only just arrived.’
‘I think your behaviour of last night has something to do with her decision.’ Matthew watched in satisfaction as Simon tossed down half the contents of his glass as if he wanted to wash away the disappointment of the news.
‘Will you allow me to see her? I would like to.’
‘That’s a pity. I don’t think Henrietta wants to see you. The welfare and happiness of my niece is paramount to all else, which is why I’ve agreed to take her to Italy.’
‘Where she will no doubt be a huge success and meet eligible young men with all the prerequisites required of a husband,’ Simon remarked savagely, his voice laced with uncharacteristic sarcasm. Draining the glass, he set it down with a thud before getting to his feet.
‘She might—although since encountering you, marriage to anyone else is the last thing on her mind. Wealth, titles and all the trappings that accompany them, are not important to her. Given your treatment of her last night—which was undeserved, I might add,’ Matthew said, determined to have his say, particularly in matters of morality or justice, ‘she was under the influence of the most formidable temper I have ever seen. While I was not present at your—reunion—although my eyes did bear witness to it—I got the gist of it, and if what Henrietta told me is true, then it is obvious that you are completely without either heart or conscience. My heart breaks when I think what she has gone through to come here. How she—’
‘Why? What has she done?’ Simon interrupted shortly, turning and walking to the window.
‘She sold everything, everything Baron Lucas had left to her, and all because she loves you and could not live without you. She turned her back on England and the security of her home to come to you.’ With grim satisfaction Matthew observed the muscle that was beginning to twitch in Simon’s rigid jaw.
‘Despite what I am? That I have nothing to offer her?’
‘In spite of all that. She suffered greatly when her father was executed. She was a child, bewildered and hurt—unable to understand—and then...’
Simon turned sharply. ‘What? What happened?’
‘Her mother could not endure life without my brother. Henrietta will probably berate me for telling you this, but if you are to fully understand the situation then I feel you should know the whole of it.’
‘Go on,’ Simon urged, his eyes fixed on him intently when he fell silent.
Taking a deep breath, after a moment Matthew continued. ‘The brutality of her husband’s death my sister-in-law could not endure. Demented with grief, she entered into a state of madness where no one could reach her. Gradually, her behaviour became more and more irrational—her moods erratic. Fearing that something would happen to Henrietta and that she, too, would be taken away from her, she became obsessive and hated to let her out of her sight for a moment. It broke Henrietta’s heart when she saw what was happening to her mother. Quite how it happened we will never know, but one day she left the house and drowned herself. Henrietta found her. The double tragedy was almost too much for the heart and mind of someone so young. Her father’s execution had a terrible impact on her—her mother’s suicide turned her life into a living hell.’
Simon’s brow drew together in a frown of disbelief at what he was hearing. His heart began to hammer in deep aching beats. He was caught between torment and tenderness over what Matthew had divulged. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said hoarsely. ‘She didn’t tell me this.’
‘She could never bring herself to talk about it. When I saw her, her eyes were filled with so much pain—I’ll never forget the torment in her eyes.’
Simon stared at him, trying to deny what Matthew was telling him, and then, with his heart bursting with compassion, he closed his eyes as he tried to blot out the image of a little girl with red-gold hair and green eyes being subjected to so much pain and sorrow.
‘I did what I could for her,’ Matthew went on, ‘and when she was stronger I placed her in the care of Baron Lucas and his wife. I believe she was happy, but what happened to her as a child has never left her. She needed someone—something—to blame. Perhaps now you will understand fully why she focused all that hate on the Jacobites and their cause.’
A muscle moved spasmodically in Simon’s throat, but he made no effort to defend himself. Bracing his hands on either side of the window, he stared out, Matthew’s revelations about Henrietta’s mother pounding in his brain with the torment of his own cruelty to her. Little wonder she felt as she did with him being a Jacobite.
He saw her as she had been in Scotland, courageous and lovely, filled with innocent passion in his arms, and he heard her words from last night—Have you forgotten me already? Dear God, if he lived to be a thousand he could never forget her. With a fresh surge of remorse, scolding rage at his own blindness and stupidity poured through him. His last words to her in Scotland had been spoken in anger—that if she sent him away without hope, then he would not come back. And now this—she had sold everything to come to him.
Bile rose up in his throat, suffocating him, and he closed his eyes. She was so unselfish, so sweet. She had done that for him.
Matthew hadn’t moved. In taut silence he watched Simon standing at the window, his eyes clenched shut. At length he relinquished his stance and turned and faced him.
Paralysed with a mixture of urgency and fear, he said, ‘Can I see her now?’ His voice was rough with emotion.
‘Only if you promise me not to hurt her.’
‘I would kill myself before I would harm one hair on her head.’
Matthew could scarcely conceal his happy relief. His stern features softened. ‘I know that. Perhaps I should not be speaking to you like this, except that in you I seem to find a spirit kindred to mine. My life, you see, has been a somewhat solitary thing and I fear this makes me too bold. I have no right to interfere in Henrietta’s life. I know that. She is in love with you. It broke her heart when she watched you ride away from her in Scotland. She tried to fight it, but it was hopeless.’ He smiled, accompanying Simon to the door and opening it. ‘There are worse things than marrying a young woman who has the excellent judgement to fall in love with you—but I must warn you,’ he said with humour. ‘There’s a good chance she will tell you to go and jump in the river.’
Simon grinned. ‘I’m a strong swimmer.’
As he made his way to the salon where he knew he would find Henrietta, Sim
on’s mind was preoccupied with the explanations he intended to make to her. She was angry. No doubt she wanted to get a little of her own back by pretending she didn’t want him, but that was one thing that didn’t concern him. They had wanted each other from the time she had thrown off her disguise and exposed herself as the beautiful woman she was. They had wanted each other every time they’d been together since then.
* * *
From the window Henrietta had seen Simon arrive and for what seemed an eternity she had existed in a state of jarring tension. Now, as she watched him enter the room and close the door behind him with an ominous thud, realising that for the first time in six months she was completely alone with him, she fought to appear completely calm, clinging to her composure as if it were a blanket she could use to insulate herself against him.
With that same natural grace that seemed so much a part of him, with a growing sense of unreality and with yards of Aubusson carpet stretching between them, she watched him start towards her with long, purposeful strides. With his clear eyes and energetic movements, he seemed to bring the whole wide world with him into the salon. He grew larger as he neared, his broad shoulders blocking her view of the room, his deep-blue eyes searching her face, his smile one of uncertainty.
‘You must have come to visit my uncle, otherwise I cannot see the purpose of your visit?’
Simon observed her pallor and the accusation and ire shooting from her lovely eyes. With one eyebrow raised and a saturnine grin, he said, ‘As a matter fact I am here to see you—although being able to reacquaint myself with Matthew is an added bonus. He’s a wise man, your uncle.’
‘Yes, he is. However, I am very busy at this time—preparing to leave for Italy, you understand, so you will do me a great service if you leave.’
‘I will do anything but that.’
‘Nevertheless, considering your relationship with the woman you were with last night at the ball, to remain here with me for any given length of time would not be wise.’
Simon gave her a solemn smile. ‘Nothing we have ever done has been wise. Let’s not spoil it now.’
Reluctantly she met his gaze. ‘Why?’
‘Because,’ he said, smiling tenderly into her eyes, ‘I have no wish to hurt you further and I wish to apologise to you for my behaviour last night. It was unforgivably rude of me to treat you so appallingly.’
Still slightly mistrustful of his apparent change of heart, Henrietta eyed him warily. ‘Yes, it was.’
‘Am I forgiven?’
Already softening, she said, ‘It would be no less than you deserve if I don’t.’
Laughing softly, Simon moved closer to her. ‘I praise God that your spirit is unharmed. Since last night I have been living with the fear that it might be.’
Tipping her head to one side, she regarded him quizzically. ‘Really? But why?’
‘Because,’ he said seriously, ‘the woman I saw at the ball was not the woman I knew in Scotland, the girl I remember.’
Despite her resolution not to capitulate to his allure, a rush of warmth pervaded Henrietta’s whole being, reawakening the nerve centres that had been numbed by despair. ‘Beneath the finery I am still the same woman. You will never know how I wanted you—to the last moment. And then, when I saw you with someone else at the ball, I realised it was too late.’
As quickly as Simon had come to her, he tore himself away, not looking at her, hating himself with a virulence for what he had put her through. ‘Vanessa is the daughter of a friend—she means nothing to me, Henrietta. You have to believe that. When I left you in Scotland I didn’t know if I would survive—let alone see you again. I believed I had lost you for ever,’ he said grimly. ‘Your heart was adamantly set against me and the cause.’
‘No, Simon—never you. The cause—yes.’
‘And I know why. I already knew about your father—but your mother? Your uncle told me about what happened to her. My God, Henrietta, why didn’t you tell me?’
Henrietta paled. ‘Because I have never been able to speak of it. The tragedy was twofold and too much for me to take in—to bear. Perhaps now you can understand the depth of my abhorrence for the Jacobites. Had my father not been a Jacobite, prepared—honoured, even, to give his life for the cause, none of it would have happened. But when we parted, when I went to London, I could no longer go on running away from it—not if it meant losing you.’
‘You would do that—for me, Henrietta?’
‘I would die for you,’ she whispered, her eyes holding his filled with all the love that was in her heart.
‘And I for you, my love. You knew damned well how much I loved you—and still do. If you don’t believe anything else I’ve ever said to you, at least believe that.’ He thought she might argue, but she didn’t, and he realised that, despite her youth, she was very wise. ‘What of Whitegates—your home in London?’
She laughed, a light-hearted sound. ‘What of it?’ She reached up and stroked his cheek. ‘Uncle Matthew will have told you that I sold it—along with every stick of furniture and carpet and useless vase. I realised that possessions are nothing more than that. When you left me my heart was broken. I had to see you again. You could not return to England, so I came to you. You—do still want me, do you not?’ she whispered.
In answer he pulled her to him and held her tightly in his arms. ‘I have never stopped wanting you. I have missed you so much.’
‘I can’t believe you are here,’ she whispered. ‘A few hours ago everything seemed so...’
‘Empty?’ he provided in his deep, compelling voice. ‘And meaningless?’ he added.
She nodded. ‘And hopeless.’
‘Not any longer. I love you from the bottom of my heart. I have loved you from the beginning.’
She smiled up at him and a look showing she had never really doubted the constancy of his love glistened in her eyes. ‘And I love you—even when you berated my slovenliness as an unkempt youth. But what of Prince Charles? Will he rebel some more, do you think?’
He shook his head. ‘The rebellion failed miserably. Since then the Highland way of life—particularly the clan system—has been dismantled. Even the wearing of the tartan has been banned. The Crown policy to subdue the Highlands has been carried out regardless of the politics of individual clans—not all of whom were Jacobite sympathisers.’
‘And Barradine? Has your transfer of the title from you to your younger brother been successful?’
‘It caused some confusion in the English court, but they have accepted that the deed is legal. The fact that my uncle—whose loyalty to King George is absolute—is to administer the estate until my brother Edward comes of age, was in our favour.’
‘Is it likely that your brother is of the same persuasion as yourself?’
‘Edward is not like me. He is a serious boy who devotes himself to his studies. Unfortunately he does not possess the best of health—he has a weakness of his heart—the same weakness that our father died of shortly after Ewen was born. He will be happy to lead a quiet, orderly life back in Scotland, which will satisfy the English. Besides, it’s difficult to prove a young boy to be a traitor. At ten years old, Ewen is from a different mould entirely. There is a wild impatience to my young brother’s nature. With a mind and will of his own and his mind bent on a military career, it is perhaps as well he was the last born. I thank God Barradine remains in the family.’
His voice was grim. ‘I am a fugitive from the law, Henrietta, and in disgrace, with no name or land. What future could I possibly offer you? None at all. And yet anyone who says we can ever escape our destiny is a fool or a dreamer! We can never break free from the mistakes we have made. We must carry them with us for ever. Because we loved each other, we have done everything we could to bend fate to our will. We parted in Scotland and went our separate ways, but however far we’ve travel
led fate has caught up with us. It is stronger than we are.’
‘I love you with all my heart, Simon. You know that.’
‘And it does not concern you that I cannot return to Scotland or England now?’
‘That matters little to me. I will go where you go. As long as I am by your side that is all that matters.’
‘Will you become my wife and come with me to share unknown and unforeseen adventures—and hardships, I dare say?’
Henrietta smiled up at him, loving him. ‘The choice, I think, is quite obvious.’
‘Then it is a choice we have to make together. Barred from Scotland, we will have to find a place to make a future together, either in Europe or by emigrating to America.’
‘You have strong ties with France, Simon. Besides, your mother and brothers will want to visit.’
‘I would like you to meet them before they leave for Scotland. My mother is impatient to meet the woman who has captivated my heart at last. She was beginning to despair it would ever happen. Since my father died she spends most of her time in France.’
‘She—has never considered marrying again?’
He shook his head. ‘She has been alone for a long time. It is my dearest wish that she marries again, but she has never met anyone who could live up to my father.’
‘I look forward to meeting her and your brothers, which is why I really do think we should stay here. France is closer than America.’
‘It is also teeming with Jacobites, don’t forget.’
She smiled. ‘How could I? I shall be married to one. So we will live in France, in the south, I think.’
‘I would like that.’
‘They say the south is a wonderful place to live,’ she murmured placidly and a flicker of the old fire shone for a moment in her green eyes. ‘And I have heard it said that in those southern parts it is never cold. I think I should like that very well.’
He gazed down at her, searching her eyes for confirmation of the truth of what he already knew yet scarcely dared to believe. ‘With no regrets?’
Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Unwed and UnrepentantReturn of the Prodigal GilvryA Traitor's Touch Page 68