Always (ALWAYS trilogy Book 1)

by Cheryl Holt

  “Were you telling the truth about the situation with Percy?” she asked. “You and Albert learned of his other family, yet you deemed him to be suitable? I may be about to make you even angrier, but Susan is your daughter. Why would you deliberately place her in a quagmire that would end up hurting her like this?”

  It was much more of a criticism than Nell should have leveled, but she was incensed on Susan’s behalf, both by Percy’s conduct, but also by the fact that Albert had selected him in spite of it.

  “No husband is perfect,” Florence said, “especially one with a prominent ancestry. They’re raised to believe they are entitled to have whatever they want. If you must know, there hasn’t been a single viable candidate who hadn’t sired a bastard or two.”

  “Oh,” Nell murmured. She was so naïve!

  “Would you rather Susan remained a spinster simply because men are dogs? Percy’s mistress and his girls have absolutely no bearing on Susan—and they never will. They are separate facets of his life that will never intersect.”

  Florence’s remarks were so at odds with the woman Nell pictured her to be. Florence liked to boast about her Christian leanings, and she was morally inclined on every topic, so why was she defending Percy?

  It was bizarre, and it definitely had Nell wondering if Florence might have issues with infidelity in her own marriage. Was Albert unfaithful on occasion? Had Florence been forced to grit her teeth and tolerate the humiliation?

  Nell had never been curious about rich, distracted Albert Middleton. He was rarely around in the evenings when he purportedly had business suppers or meetings he couldn’t miss. Florence’s wrath had Nell questioning subjects that had never previously bothered her in the slightest.

  “I’ve been kind to you over the years,” Florence said.

  “Yes, you have,” Nell hurried to concur, “and I’ve always been grateful.”

  “But maybe I’ve been too kind. I’ve certainly never worried over how close you are to Susan.”

  “We’re like sisters.”

  “Yes, a pair of rude, disrespectful sisters.” Florence glowered. “You think I’m unaware of how you two snicker at me behind my back? You think I don’t notice when you roll your eyes at each other? You think I don’t hear you giggling in the hall after you’ve spoken to me?”

  “If I have ever offended you, I most humbly apologize.”

  Florence didn’t acknowledge Nell’s olive branch, but continued with her harangue. “Susan is about to embark on a new phase of her life, and she doesn’t need you tagging along and interfering as she acclimates to having a husband.”

  Nell didn’t suppose Susan would ever be Percy’s bride, but she kept that opinion to herself. “I would never interfere in Susan’s marriage.”

  “Well, after this bit of mischief, I’m not about to take any chances with you.”

  Nell frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s time you wed, so you can have your own home. I’ll talk to Mr. Middleton. I’ll have him find someone who’s willing.”

  The threat was loud and alarming. “Albert is busy and shouldn’t trouble himself on my behalf. I’m happy with how things are.”

  “I am not happy,” Florence countered, “and my view of our relationship is the only one that matters. I’ve let you be friends with Susan because I liked her to have a companion while she was growing up, but she’s not a child anymore. And with her stepping into her role as a member of the Blake family, she should socialize with a higher group of women. She should have different friends in the future.”

  It was a horrid comment that hideously insulted Nell and her parents, and she stewed with fury.

  Her father had been a captain in the Royal Navy, her male kin forming a long line of naval officers who’d served the Crown for generations. In England’s stratified world, where status and bloodlines were so important, she wouldn’t bow her head to anyone.

  “If you’re tired of supporting me,” she said, “I’ll move to Selby with Susan. We’ve been planning it anyway.”

  “Planning what?” Florence sneered.

  “Susan is nervous about being here on her own. She intends to bring me to live with her the minute she has the authority to arrange it.”

  “You will never live at Selby with Susan. I will speak to Edwina Blake. She’ll never permit it.”

  “Why would she care?”

  “She’s learned of your inappropriate flirtation with the Earl, remember? She believes you have low morals and that he is oddly fixated on you. She’d never court that type of scandal.”

  Nell could have defended herself, could have insisted she had no designs on Lord Selby, but she was a bad liar, so she wouldn’t travel down that road.

  Instead, she said, “So what is your plan for me? You’ll have Albert wed me off to some clerk or farmer so you can be shed of me? What if I don’t want that ending?”

  “It’s not up to you. You’re single and unattached, and you have no father to advise you. You are Mr. Middleton’s ward, and he will decide what is best. Now go to your room too. As with my daughter, I am sick of the sight of you.”

  “I’d like to check on Susan first. She’s very upset, and I’d like to be sure she’s all right.”

  “You will not check on Susan. She is indisposed, so she’s not having visitors. Not even you.”

  Nell sighed with regret. “If you insist.”

  “You have squandered the affection I felt for you, Nell, and over the next few days, I shall try to reclaim it. For the moment, I have none to display.”

  “I’m very sorry, Florence.”

  “Being sorry is all well and good, but it doesn’t change anything.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Nell rose and stomped out. She was livid over how she’d been maligned, but she was frightened too.

  She’d been eager to reside at Selby with Susan. If the opportunity was revoked, where would it leave her? Would she return to London with a dangerously angry Florence? Would she allow Albert to pick a husband for her and shuck her off on a man she barely knew—as he’d done to Susan?

  If he would select such an appalling cad for his daughter, what kind of brute might he choose for Nell who had no connection to him at all?

  The answers to those questions were too terrifying to consider, so she wouldn’t consider them.

  Florence would calm down. She had to calm down, and they would revert to the tranquil, placid existence they’d wallowed in for so many years. Any other conclusion was too dire to contemplate.

  * * * *

  Nathan was riding down the lane to the manor when he glanced up to discover Nell strolling toward him. She was trudging along, her eyes on the dirt in front of her rather than her surroundings.

  He reined in and watched her, enjoying how pretty she was, how she appealed to him on so many levels. She neared, and she looked particularly morose, as if she’d lost her last friend. He wondered if he looked just as dejected. If so, they were a pitiful pair.

  He dismounted and stood, waiting for her to peek up and notice him, but she was so distracted that she almost bumped into him before she realized he was blocking her path.

  “Oh! Hello!” she said, being a tad startled. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Obviously. Where are you headed in such a crestfallen condition?”

  She gaped around at the thick woods and shrugged. “Maybe into the village? Or maybe I’ll simply keep on to the ends of the earth.”

  “That’s quite a distance.” He studied her and thought she might have been crying. “What’s wrong?”

  “Mrs. Middleton and Susan are quarreling, and I’m caught in the middle, when I hate to be. You needn’t be concerned. I merely need to walk until I clear my mind, then I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not fine.”

  “I will be though.”

  What sort of issues were plaguing Mrs. Middleton? Why berate Nell over them? She seemed so sweet and agreeable to him. How did Mrs. Middleton
view her? Not in a good way, he was sure.

  He and Nell had a lot in common with regard to their pasts. She’d been raised by people who didn’t really like her. She’d never been welcome or secure. He’d felt very much the same. As opposed to her though, he had a place to call his own, but it had never been home.

  Selby was his, but his younger years had been so dreadful that—the minute he’d been able to escape—he’d fled. He was mostly a stranger at the estate, especially to his aunt who pictured Selby as belonging to her rather than him.

  Edwina was caustic company, and because of how he’d been dragged to Selby as a boy, there had been no chance of them having a cordial coexistence. He understood that now. Mr. Wilson, his father’s neighbor, had provided Nathan with the missing pieces of his mental puzzle.

  He was furious and forlorn and completely at a loss as to how he should proceed. Edwina had taken actions when he was small that he was positive his grandfather would have ordered, but Godwin had been dead for two decades. What was Edwina’s excuse for keeping his secrets after he’d passed on?

  There had to be consequences, but what should they be? And who should suffer them? Such a cruel act couldn’t have occurred in a vacuum. Who else was aware of Edwina and Godwin’s perfidy? The servants? Dobbs? The new vicar? The old one? Nathan’s lawyers? His bankers? Who would have to be held accountable?

  He was curious as to whether his father hadn’t had a Will. If so, where was it? What were his final directives? He’d had three children. What provisions had he made for them? Nathan doubted they’d have included anything remotely resembling the conclusion Godwin and Edwina had engineered.

  Were his sisters still alive? What if they were deceased? What if Edwina’s machinations had resulted in tragedy?

  If Nathan found out that she’d destroyed the twins, he couldn’t predict how he might lash out, but one fact was certain. He had to rid himself of every person in his world who’d been complicit in separating him from them, then he had to locate his sisters and bring them to Selby. It’s what his father would have wanted.

  For the prior hour or so, it had been sprinkling, and it was about to break down and burst into a true storm. They had to rush inside before the deluge commenced, but he couldn’t imagine escorting her to the manor.

  “It’s starting to rain,” he pointed out.

  “I should get back to the house.”

  But she didn’t glance toward it, and he said, “I can’t bear to return there just yet. Would you come with me instead?”

  “To where?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  He linked their fingers and sauntered off, not letting her refuse.

  They left the lane and walked through the woods to a cottage that was rarely used. It was tiny, just the one room, with a shed behind it. As a boy, it had been his hiding spot, the refuge where he’d dawdle when he was in trouble and not ready to face his punishment.

  After he’d inherited, it was where he’d gone to avoid his aunt until he was prepared to deal with her. It was also beneficial after a lengthy journey when he had difficulty adjusting to the noise and chaos in the manor. The servants kept it stocked for him. There were logs piled by the stove, a bit of food on the shelves.

  “What’s this place?” she asked.

  “It’s the gatekeeper’s cottage, from the era when we thought the gate should be guarded.”

  She smirked at that. “You don’t feel the need anymore?”

  “Who would we lock out? It’s not as if we have roaming bands of peasants bent on mayhem.”

  “I almost think that’s too bad. A touch of mayhem might be intriguing.”

  “Only you would assume so.” He pushed the door open. “Make yourself comfortable. I have to tend my horse, then I’ll join you.”

  She stared at him, at the cottage, and her sole, meager complaint was, “I probably shouldn’t.”

  “Will you head to the manor in the rain? We couldn’t chat there, and I have so many things to tell you.”

  “Fine.” She smiled wanly. “Don’t linger with your horse or you’ll get soaked.”

  He urged her in, then led his horse around to the shed. He hobbled and fed it as rapidly as he was able, then he went to the cottage.

  The interior was dark and cold, the air musty from it being closed up, but it was exactly the same: narrow bed, dining table and two chairs, the fireplace with kindling ready to light, the shelves with a few dishes and cups. The most important item, a bottle of brandy, was prominently displayed.

  She was seated at the table, and she was still wearing her cloak and bonnet. She appeared beaten down, as if her usual vigor had been sucked away. Normally, he viewed her as being happy and content. What could Mrs. Middleton have done to leave her so forlorn?

  Having previously met the unpleasant shrew in his library, he supposed it could be any awful insult.

  He grabbed two teacups and splashed brandy into them. He downed his, then handed her the other one. She gaped at it as if she’d never seen an alcoholic beverage before.

  “Drink up,” he said. “You’ll feel better.”

  “I doubt it. There’s nothing wrong with me that a dose of brandy can cure.”

  “I’m not trying to cure you. I’m trying to corrupt you.”

  She dithered, than took the cup and gulped a huge swallow. Her eyes watered and she coughed once, but she didn’t set it down or give it back. She sipped at the rest.

  He started a fire in the hearth, liking how they were sequestered together. No one knew they’d sneaked off. No one knew where they were. It seemed as if any wonderful, bizarre, or terrifying event could transpire.

  The flames caught quickly, and the space warmed. He shucked off his damp coat and draped it to dry, then he removed her bonnet and cloak and draped them too.

  He sat on the chair next to her, and he pulled her onto his lap. Her pert bottom was balanced on his thigh, her curvaceous breasts crushed to his chest. She flashed a scolding look, but didn’t protest or struggle to escape.

  He dipped in and kissed her as he’d been dying to do from the moment he’d stumbled on her out on the lane. She kissed him back with an enormous amount of enthusiasm.

  He feasted on her mouth, tasting her, seducing her. Her hair was tied with a ribbon, and he tugged it away, her lush chestnut curls flowing free, and he drew his fingers through the soft strands.

  He kept on until they were both breathless, and finally, she grew overwhelmed. She broke off and nestled at his nape, and she fit there perfectly. He held her tight, reveling in the sensation of her warm body pressed to his own.

  After awhile, she straightened and glanced around the room, assessing it more carefully.

  “This can’t simply be the gatekeeper’s cottage. What else is it used for?”

  “Can’t you guess? It’s my secret hideout. I come here when I want to be alone.”

  “And you let me come with you. I’m very flattered.”

  “If anyone at the manor is ever searching for me, you must swear you’ll never tattle as to where I am.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  She was still horribly glum. He’d have thought their passionate kiss might have wiped away some of her woe. Apparently, he’d have to work harder to alter her mood.

  “You’re so sad,” he said.

  “A little.”

  “What happened?”

  “Can I not tell you? I’d have to share derogatory details about your cousin, Percy, and I shouldn’t. I should stay out of this.”

  “Sorry, but that’s not an option.”

  “If I confide in you, you have to promise you won’t be angry with me. I’ve had enough people shouting at me today.”

  “Mrs. Middleton?”

  “Yes.” She sighed as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, then she abruptly announced, “Percy has a mistress—and two children.”

  He blanched with shock. When he’d bumped into her earlier that morning, she’d mentioned the p
ossibility of Percy having a paramour, but after they’d parted, he hadn’t reflected on it again. He had his own problems, his own issues, and Percy’s private life was his own business.

  He wasn’t Percy’s nanny or his vicar. Or his mother.

  “A mistress and children?” he asked. “You saw him with them?”

  “Yes. The story we heard is true, and Susan is very upset.”

  “With valid reason.”

  “She wants to call off the wedding.”

  “I don’t blame her.”

  “Yes, but her mother is insisting she proceed. Evidently, Mr. and Mrs. Middleton knew about the situation and decided to arrange the engagement anyway.”

  His jaw dropped in astonishment. He always told himself that naught surprised him anymore, but the information was quite outrageous. Who would treat a beloved daughter so shabbily?

  “I’m afraid you might get dragged into the debacle,” she said.

  “Why would I?”

  “Mrs. Middleton has summoned her husband, and you’re the male head of your family.”

  “Just barely.”

  “I’m betting he’ll expect you to devise a solution.”

  “I shudder with dread at the very idea.”

  “What is your opinion about it? Should Susan be forced into it?”

  “I don’t believe it should be up to me. She and I are scarcely acquainted, and I wouldn’t presume to command her.” He scowled. “Is my aunt aware that Susan is about to renege?”

  “No. Mrs. Middleton had a terrible fight with Susan, then she sent us to our rooms and ordered us to shut our mouths until Mr. Middleton arrives.”

  He grinned. “You disobeyed her, you scamp. You snuck away.”

  “Yes, but I feel awful.”

  “Why would you feel awful?”

  “She accused me of encouraging Susan to cry off.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. I merely counseled her to wait and ponder the ramifications.”

  “I don’t like Mrs. Middleton.”

  “I don’t like her much either at the moment,” Nell morosely said. “She told me I’m too much trouble, and I’ve resided with them for too long.”

  “Well, you have been with them for a lot of years, but I doubt you were ever any trouble.”