by Darcy Burke
He turned towards his aunt. “If you’ve something of importance to say, Aunt Winifred, please, say it louder so everyone might enjoy your opinion.”
She straightened her spine and stared him down. “Fine, I will say it. You should have died with your mother when she bore you. Instead, we were plagued with your presence and we lost sweet Gabriel and worthy Edward in your place. Had you not survived, Howard would be the earl and the earldom would have a future. Instead, you are going to leave it here to rot while you do whatever you please.”
“We’d have thought these past ten years might have taught you some manners,” Howard added. “Clearly your rebellious streak has just intensified.”
Henry offered his hosts a stiff nod, strode angrily out the room, and slammed the door heatedly behind him.
It might not have been the most mature of reactions, but the sound echoing down the hallway brought him a small amount of satisfaction.
He stormed determinedly away from the study, in search of something—anything—to alleviate his irritation.
He stopped in the hallway, some distance from the ballroom, but the lively music still wafted through the corridors. He lifted his head to the carved plaster ceiling and closed his eyes.
His entire life, he’d been less than what people expected him to be. He wasn’t as unwavering as his father, or as polished as his brother Edward, the one poised to be the heir once their sickly brother Gabriel passed to be with his maker. He’d been too much for his governess to handle, too naughty to be entrusted to Eton—he’d tried it and been expelled. Cornelia and James were the only ones who could handle him, and he’d spent as much time at Stratford Castle as possible.
Ten years ago, at this very house party, he’d met Anna, the only other person who didn’t look at him with disdain. A fleeting moment of happiness met with the harsh reality of his existence. Again, he’d been found wanting, and she’d been ripped away from him by her disapproving father.
The walls of the castle pulsed with his memories of her.
He counted to ten, taking deep breaths, hoping the act would calm his mind, would ease the burn of his frustrations. How long he stood there, eyes closed, head tipped to the heavens, he did not know. But his anger calmed, his frustration subsided, his mind cleared enough to realize he was exhausted.
Henry slowly became aware he was not alone in the corridor.
Someone else was there, their breathing not as controlled as his own. A soft floral scent drifted towards him, pulling memories from their deep buried caverns.
He opened his eyes and regarded the woman before him with an emotion he could not place. It wasn’t dread exactly. It was excitement, mixed with trepidation, anger, and regret. The sight of her was unpleasant and pleasant at the same time, which didn’t make any sense but there it was.
Chestnut brown hair, sparkling hazel eyes, rose red lips. She was as he remembered, but different, more of a woman than he had known.
Anna. The girl he’d fallen helplessly in love with over ten days.
The girl who’d broken his heart.
Anna Newbury wasn’t sure she hadn’t wandered into a nightmare.
It was a nightmare she’d had before. It started off as a dream, seeing Henry again, hearing his voice as he made her laugh, his crystal blue eyes seeing more than she wanted him to. But it quickly turned into torment, as he was pulled further and further away, until he turned his back on her and ran.
Was he going to run now? Was he going to beg for forgiveness? Could she give it to him?
Could she forgive him for breaking her heart?
“I say, for a moment there, I thought you’d fallen asleep.”
His brows peaked, but his gaze didn’t hold the sparkle of amusement she’d known before. In fact, he didn’t look very pleased to see her.
“Have you recovered from your meeting with your aunt and uncle? From their reactions, I imagine they were not expecting you. It seemed everyone was surprised to see you here.”
“Quite.”
Her breath hitched at the sound of his voice, the first time she’d heard it in a decade. It was deeper than she remembered, more weathered, but she imagined they both were after so much time. She tried valiantly to not allow his one word to affect her. He was exactly as she remembered, but entirely different at the same time. The boy she’d known before, had fallen in love with, was gone, and a man who strongly resembled him stood in his place. His golden-brown hair had streaks of blond throughout, as if he’d spent a great deal of time in the sun. He was taller, broader, with a few more lines at the edges of his eyes.
She forced her tone to remain pleasant. Unaffected. “I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing. I imagine that came as a shock.”
“On the contrary. He’d been ill for some time. With his passing came sorrow, but none so much as if he’d been in the prime of health. But I thank you for your condolences. In fact, that is why I am here. My father left something in the care of my aunt. I’ve come to retrieve it.”
“Oh? Then you’ll be on your way?”
Please say yes. Please say no.
“Despite the distress my presence has caused my family, I must remain until I can locate what I came for. You’ll have to endure my present for at least one day.”
Her brow furrowed. “I am not troubled by your presence, Lord Carrington.” It felt strange to be so formal.
“Good. I am not troubled by yours either, Viscountess Rycroft.” He bowed and moved around her.
She spun around. “Henry, really? Is that all you have to say?”
He stopped but didn’t turn.
Anna moved closer. “It’s been ten years. The least you can give me is a proper greeting.”
“Hello.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“I don’t know what you expect of me, Anna.” His tone was low and hard, and the only emotion she could detect was irritation.
“You could at least have the courtesy to face me when you speak to me.”
His right foot lifted to tap the toe of his boot on the floor, then he turned in a fluid motion, and snapped his legs together. “Is this better, Viscountess?”
The jab cut, as Anna knew he wasn’t saying it out of respect. She wanted to be angry at him; she wanted to rant and scream, and have some sort of similar reaction from him. Had it truly been so long that he didn’t care anymore? Did she care?
Anna had not thought of Henry Allerton in some time. She’d tucked him into a lovely little box and pushed it into a deep recess of her soul. A place she never dared to venture, because it was filled with what ifs and maybes. Hopes and dreams and a life she’d not been destined to have. He’d not been for her after all, and she’d dealt with the heartbreak then, and she’d deal with it now. “I must say, I’m surprised to see you here.”
His gaze met hers, but she saw nothing. His eyes were hard, but void of emotion.
“I imagine we were bound to run into each other sometime,” she continued. “Better now than in the middle of Almack’s.”
“Never would have suited me just fine.”
Anna frowned. “You seem rather upset with me, but I cannot imagine what I’ve done wrong.”
He tilted his head as he regarded her. “I can imagine it will come to you, with some thought.”
“You left me, if I remember correctly.”
“Then your memory has failed you.”
“I remember things perfectly, as I was the one who weathered the scandal ever since. I’ve heard the story retold more times than I can count.”
“And yet you think you did nothing wrong? You married Rycroft, Anna.”
“The man I was betrothed to? What else could I do after you disappeared with my father’s money?”
He was silent for a moment before he nodded. “And this is your opinion of me?”
“As you’ve been gone these past ten years, I’ve not been provided the opportunity to form another.”
“Well then, my lad
y, I shall not take up any more of your time.”
And he turned and walked away from her. Again.
Chapter Two
The following morning, Anna was still offended by Henry’s actions. The gall of the man, to behave in such a way after a decade apart. He acted like she’d been the one to leave him. She remembered the events of their disastrous elopement clearly. Stealing away from Stratford Castle in the middle of the night. Making it a day’s drive until her father set upon them. The marvelous row at the coaching inn where her father had dragged him out of the taproom and into the yard, before he threw a roll of papers at him, wrapped in leather.
“As agreed,” Father had snapped at him. “And then some. You are never to see her again.”
Anna had followed them into the yard, tears flowing down her face. She had watched Henry unbind the papers and glance through them before meeting her father’s gaze. The two had stared each other down for a long moment before Henry’s gaze had flickered to hers, his jaw set, and he’d nodded.
And in that moment, Anna had learnt the horrible truth. Her father had bought him off. In that moment money had been more important than what they had together.
“Is that him?”
Anna looked up at her stepdaughter’s inquiry.
Miss Millicent Newbury had tilted back in her chair to see across the room.
“Millie, for shame, a lady does not tilt her chair back, no matter what she is trying to see.”
Anna knocked the chair leg with her foot and the chair wobbled on the two back legs Millie balanced on. Millie’s hands came down hard on the table to catch herself before she toppled over, the force shaking the table. Teacups clinked in their saucers as a few people shot her curious looks.
Millie set the chair back on all four legs. “How else am I to see him?”
“See who?” Anna sipped her tea as if nothing had happened.
Millie’s brow furrowed. “You know who. Him.”
“Him is not a name. As there are many hims here, you’ll have to be more specific.”
“Lord What’s His Name.”
Anna shot her a look.
The young man beside her spoke up, with a bored glance at Anna. “She’s referring to Lord Carrington.”
Anna didn’t meet her stepson’s gaze and looked back at her teacup. She knew who Millie had been on about, but Percival Newbury, now Viscount Rycroft, did not know her history with Carrington.
When Anna had married their father a decade earlier, Percy and Millie were nine years old. They had been a force to break through, but she had done it eventually. The bond between the three of them was stronger than blood. They’d survived Viscount Rycroft together. These two had become her whole world, after the one she thought she’d have with Henry had been ripped from her hands.
She’d heard nonstop commentary of Carrington’s appearance at the ball from Millie, who was nearly overcome with the excitement of the gossip. Anna knew Millie was not as society-obsessed as the young girl pretended to be, but it was an air she was putting on and Anna let her go with it. What was the worst that could happen?
She could end up halfway to Scotland before he decided to run off with her father’s payout and break her heart.
“You should keep your distance, Millie,” Percy said to his sister. “They say he has the blackest of hearts.”
“Nonsense,” Millie chided in response to her brother’s warning. “I heard he saved a girl from drowning in the Serpentine.”
Percy shook his head. “I heard it was the Thames, and he was the one to tip the boat over.”
“I heard he has been traversing the plains of Africa.”
Percy threw a disbelieving look at his sister. “I heard it was the northern highlands of Scotland.”
“Where did you hear all this gossip?” Anna asked.
Millie buttered her toast. “At the ball last night. After he burst through the doors. Everyone was terribly curious about him. No one knows what he is doing here, as he couldn’t possibly be here for the same reason as the rest of us.”
“That is doubtful,” Anna said under her breath, but Millie heard her.
“Someone said he was the one who ruined Lord Warrow at the card tables.”
“Lord Warrow ruined himself by investing in a frivolous wet-setting cement scheme,” came Henry’s voice from across the table. He nodded to them as he took a seat across the table. “I had nothing to do with it. Though I do know a bit about wet-setting cement.”
Anna forced a polite smile. “Lord Carrington, may I present my stepson, Percival Newbury, newly Viscount Rycroft, and his sister, Miss Millicent Newbury.”
Henry’s brows pinched together. “Newly inherited?”
“Well, almost a year ago,” Percy answered. “I suppose that isn’t all that new.”
Henry looked confused. “Oh, I thought...” He trailed off as he looked askance between the three of them.
Anna fought her own amusement. “Did you not hear of my husband’s passing?”
“Clearly not,” Millie muttered. Anna sent her a glare.
“No, I’d not known.”
With a mouthful of toast, Percy added, “A fall from his horse.”
“Such a tragedy. I am sorry for the loss you all endured.”
Millie’s brow rose. “Are you truly? You do not look remorseful.”
Anna’s eye flew wide as she turned to her stepdaughter. “Millicent!”
Millie barely looked at her. “Everyone told us they were sorry for our loss, but no one actually liked Father. No one is really sorry he’s gone.”
“Apologies, Carrington.” Anna frowned at Millie. “My stepdaughter can be impertinent.”
Henry looked amused. “Offering sympathy, even empty sympathy, is something people do upon learning of a death; one of our social norms. To say nothing seems uncaring, and yet empty words might ring the same. If you suffered after your father’s passing, then I am sorry for that. Truthfully, I was indifferent to your father, so his passing holds little consequence to me.”
“Did you know my father?” Percy asked.
Henry’s gaze flickered to Anna. “I knew of him.”
He was an entirely different person from the night before. Gone was the anger and brooding, replaced with friendliness and charm.
“When were you last at Stratford Castle?” Millie asked.
“Heavens Millie, what is with the inquisition?” Anna sighed.
Millie shrugged. “I am merely attempting to make friends with the earl. Isn’t that what we are here for?” She took a sip of her tea, primly. “He has such a scandalous past, shrouded in rumor and mystery.” Millie shifted her gaze to Henry who looked bemused. “No one knows where you’ve been or what you’ve been up to for nearly a decade.” Millie watched him expectantly, as though he was now required to provide some answers.
He smirked. “I assure you, Miss Newbury, the truth is not nearly as interesting as the rumor.”
“A lady does not poke her nose into other people’s lives,” Anna recited. “Leave the earl alone.”
Millie’s brow rose in challenge. “Aren’t you curious what he has been up to all this time? One does not simply pop up at an invitation-only house party uninvited and not expect there to be questions.”
“I was invited, actually,” Henry cut in. “My aunt invites me every year. Probably more in the hope I would come home, rather than actually expect me to find a wife.” The purpose of this house party wasn’t exactly a secret.
Percy turned towards Anna. “Speaking of this wife business. I’m not expected to find one, am I?”
Anna laughed. “No, dear, you are much too young to take a wife. You need a bit of freedom and time to see the world.”
Percy sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. Although weren’t you our age when you...” Percy glanced at Henry pointedly and Anna cringed under his speculative stare.
“Oh, stop looking at me like that,” Anna chided. “If you must know, yes, Carrington and I were acqua
inted when we were younger. Before I married your father.”
“Wait.” Millie put down her teacup. “Is this him?”
Henry’s brows rose. “Him?”
Anna sighed. “Again with the hims, Millie. Really, you must articulate yourself better.”
Millie’s face lit up with excitement. “This is him! The one who almost steered you away from Father! Oh, this is grand.”
“Almost steered you away?” Henry asked, a twinkle in his gaze she did not approve of.
Anna looked back at her half-eaten breakfast. “That is nonsense.”
She felt Millie’s stare on her a moment longer. Millie may have been young, but she was clever, and her skills of observation were uncanny. “If you say so. But wait, if Percy is too young to find a wife, then why must I find a husband? Am I not to be young and free as well? I want to see the world too.”
“For starters, ladies mature much faster than gentlemen do,” Anna replied. Henry opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. “Oh, you know it’s true, Carrington, so don’t try to correct me.” She looked back at Millie. “And secondly, your future will be more secure with a husband.”
“I could just stay with you and Percy for years to come. I don’t need to find a husband just yet.”
“What happens if you do not like the wife your brother chooses?” Henry asked. “What if she’s a miserable crone and you cannot stand to be near her? What will you do then?”
Millie shrugged. “I’ll go to live at another estate.”
“Alone?”
“With my friends.”
Anna sighed, knowing no matter how many times they had this discussion, Millie would not be appeased. “Your friends will likely have husbands eventually. I know it seems unfair, but that is the way of it. You can be young and free, and married. A proper husband will be there beside you as you explore together.”
Millie sighed. “I don’t like it. Why must I have a father, a brother, and now a husband to dictate my life?” She glanced up at Henry. “Promise me, Lord Carrington, that you will never attempt to dictate my life.”
Anna’s eye twitched as she fought the desire to roll them towards the heavens.