by Cheryl Holt
“I never was,” Nell fumed. “She claims I’ve been a bad influence on Susan and I should stay away from her now. According to her, with Susan shackling herself to Percy, I’m too lowly of a person to continue on as her friend.”
“What a witch.” He scoffed with disgust. “Trust me, Nell, Percy is no great catch, and didn’t you just tell me there probably won’t be a wedding?”
He’d assumed the comment would elicit a pithy retort, but it didn’t. She looked even more morose.
“She thinks it’s time for me to wed too. When we’re back in London, she threatened to have Mr. Middleton pick a husband for me, but I can’t imagine it.”
“Would he?”
“If she demanded it? Yes. He’s incredibly henpecked.”
The news was extremely disturbing in a manner he wouldn’t contemplate.
He tried to picture the man Mr. Middleton might select for her. He supposed it would be one of Middleton’s clerks whom he could bribe with a few pounds as a dowry, but she was too extraordinary to wind up as the wife of a tedious buffoon.
She’d been raised in splendor in the Middletons’ ostentatious world. It would be cruel to shuck her off onto a working fellow who could never support her in the style to which she’d been accustomed.
She should be given to someone with money, someone who could buy her beautiful gowns and hire a dozen servants to spoil her. It was what she deserved.
You could marry her…
The silly message flitted through his head and resonated so loudly that the Devil might have put it there. For an instant, he allowed it to linger, enjoying how it rattled him, how it excited him, but he would never seriously consider it. He didn’t plan to marry. Ever.
He’d lived his life on the road, having wild adventures. He’d always been surrounded by active, virile, manly men. He’d had scant interactions with respectable females, and domesticity didn’t appeal to him in the least.
There was the added problem too that he wasn’t exactly straight in his mind. He’d never truly recovered from his father’s sudden death. The tragedy had created huge holes in his character that could never be erased.
Mr. Wilson’s stories in London had helped him to recollect some of the missing memories about his sisters. In the frightening period immediately after his father had passed away, Edwina had swooped in and absconded with him even though he’d been adamantly opposed to letting her. She’d sent his sisters to an unidentified location, probably an orphanage.
All of it had left him slightly unbalanced. His distressing quirks had been exacerbated by the calamity in Africa. He’d barely survived the ordeal, then had trekked to England, a wounded, lost soul who’d been tormented every step of the way.
He wasn’t a man any woman should have as a husband. He didn’t know how to be a husband, and he didn’t want to learn. He was too disconnected from normal people, and oftentimes, he was quite deranged in his thinking.
So…no, he would never offer himself to Nell, but she should have a grand spouse, and if Mr. Middleton showed up at Selby, Nathan would have a thorough discussion with him regarding that pertinent fact.
“I’m terrified over who Mr. Middleton might choose for me,” she said. “If it’s a hideous candidate, I have no ally to take my side.”
“What about Susan?”
“She would have been able to in the past, but if she disobeys her parents about Percy, I’m afraid they’ll disown her. Then where will I be?”
Tears welled into her eyes so they were large and luminous, enhancing the green color that fascinated him so much.
“Don’t you dare cry,” he said. “I’ve had no experience as to how I should comfort a maudlin woman.”
“I don’t mean to burden you. I’m just so sad, and you’re the only person who will listen to my troubles.”
“I’m glad I have. I need more chances to practice sympathy.”
He lifted her off his lap and set her on the other chair, then he threw another log on the fire and fetched the brandy bottle. He refilled both their cups, then he sat again and smiled at her.
“I thought I had the most harrowing day,” he said, “but you have me beat.”
She frowned, not comprehending to what he referred, then she gasped. “You went to your childhood home! And I didn’t even ask you about it. I’ve been so busy moping that I’d forgotten. Was it awful? Please tell me it wasn’t. I can’t stand to hear more bad news.”
“It wasn’t awful.” He halted, then chuckled. “Or maybe it was awful. I guess it depends on how we define the word.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“That’s because I was shocked senseless.”
Her frown deepened. “Why was that? What have you discovered?”
“It seems, dear Nell, that I have two natural-born sisters.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“I’m stunned,” she said. “Where are they? What happened to them?”
“I have no idea, but I intend to find out, and when I do, there will be hell to pay.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nell stood at the window of the small cottage where she and Nathan were sequestered. She opened a shutter and peeked out. The sprinkles had increased to a heavy rain. It pattered on the roof, the rhythmic sound peaceful and soothing.
The woods smelled fresh and green, the air pungent with the aromas of the forest. The sky was very dark and thunder rumbled in the distance, making her wonder how long the torrent would continue. What if it kept on for hours or even days? Oughtn’t she brave the tempest and run to the manor?
It was quite a distance to the house. If she showed up muddy and drenched, it would be difficult to explain where she’d been. She was to have been cowering in her bedchamber until Florence advised her to come out.
She glanced over her shoulder, and Nathan—yes, she’d decided to call him by his Christian name—had lain down on the narrow bed. He was staring at the ceiling, an arm behind his head, his ankles crossed. He looked tired, as if he could doze off and sleep for a week.
As to herself, she was nervous and unsure of how to proceed. They were locked away in a spot where she should never be, and the inclement weather had thrown a wrench into any notions of escape. It seemed as if they were the last two people on Earth and any wicked conduct might be allowed.
She wished they could tarry forever, that they never had to leave. Actually, her active imagination was leaping forward in dangerous directions.
She’d confessed Florence’s plan to have Albert find her a husband, and in mentioning it, she’d assumed she had no ulterior motive, but what if he’d announced that he’d never let Albert give her to another man? What if he’d insisted he couldn’t live without her and would wed her himself? How thrilling it would have been!
But they were barely acquainted, and though they shared a potent affection, it couldn’t lead anywhere. She was Nell Drummond, a penniless orphan and daughter of a navy sailor, and he was Nathan Blake, Lord Selby, a famous explorer and one of the most important noblemen in the kingdom.
If and when he married, he would pick a very lofty girl, a duke’s daughter or perhaps even a princess. Nell could only ever be a trifle, a bit of fun during a summer when he was feeling lonely and low.
Their paths would diverge very soon, and the prospect left her extremely despondent. She’d never had anything that was genuinely her own, and she wanted him in a manner that was implausible and unsettling.
“Are you anxious to return to the manor?” he asked as if he could read her mind.
“No, but I’m hoping no one’s missed me. If Mrs. Middleton learns I snuck out, I’ll be in big trouble.”
He snorted. “Aren’t you already in big trouble? Can it be any worse?”
“Unfortunately, it can be much, much worse.”
“My boots are wet,” he said. “Would you pull them off for me?”
“That’s an awfully personal request.”
“I realize it is
, but would you do it anyway? It’s not as if you haven’t seen me half-naked in the past.”
“I suppose I can oblige you—this once—but don’t get used to it.”
“You’re much too nice, Nell. I can convince you to engage in any mischief.”
“Maybe,” she muttered, disgusted with herself and how malleable she could be.
She hooked the latch on the shutter, then she went over and tugged off his boots. Her slippers were wet too, and she removed them as well, placing them all by the fire to dry. Her stockings were damp, and she’d have liked to strip them off, but she wasn’t about to lift her skirt and fuss with her garters while he was gaping so intently.
“What about your stockings?” he said, reading her mind again.
“I shouldn’t shed any other items of clothing.”
“Will you sit and be miserable with cold toes simply to obey some odd rules about propriety? Please don’t. It will annoy me.”
He could be quite a bully, and he was correct that he could push her so she’d behave as he demanded. And she hated having cold toes.
“Close your eyes,” she told him.
“Why?”
“I’m going to roll down my stockings, and you can’t watch.”
“Ha! I knew I could persuade you.”
“Don’t gloat. It’s so irritating.”
She glared at him until he looked away, then she turned her back on him and hastily yanked them away. She draped them next to her cloak and added yet another log to the fire to keep it burning at a toasty temperature.
She thought about seating herself in a chair at the table, but even though it was a very small room, she’d be too far away from him. Instead, she walked to the bed and eased a hip onto the mattress.
He grinned. “I have a confession to make.”
“What is it, you bounder?”
“I peeked, so I saw your bare feet. Will you swoon?”
“You’re being very silly.”
“I’m trying to cheer you, but I’m not very good at it.”
She rested a palm on his chest, so she could feel his heart beating. They were so compatible, so comfortable together. She’d had limited experiences with men, so she wasn’t clear on how they interacted with women when they were off by themselves.
Was it always so precious? Was it always so dear?
Somehow, she didn’t think so. There was a strange chemistry at work between them. It seemed as if their bond was preordained, and they could never be separated.
The impression was foolish, and it would result in disaster in the end, but just that moment—when he was weary and chatty and content to loaf with her—she didn’t regret any of her choices.
“Tell me about your trip to town today,” she said. “What’s this about you having sisters?”
“I visited my childhood home, and I was dawdling out front, when a neighbor strolled by. He was an older gentleman who’d lived there when my father died. He invited me in for a cup of tea, and he regaled me with gossip from that terrible time. He filled in a lot of the holes in my recollection.”
“That was a stroke of luck. He recalled your sisters?”
“Vividly. They’re twins!”
“You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not, but it’s a very gloomy saga, and you’re so forlorn this afternoon. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Absolutely.”
He drew her to him, and he kissed her sweetly, tenderly, and she was overwhelmed by how extraordinary it was. How could she be expected to resist him?
He hauled her onto the mattress with him, and she’d like to claim she protested, but the pathetic fact was that she was ecstatic to lie down with him. Their bodies were pressed tight, his arms wrapped around her so he could hold her close. He pulled a blanket over them, then he told her about his conversation in town.
It was like a story out of a fairytale, complete with an evil witch—Edwina—and a wicked villain—his grandfather, Godwin. After Matthew and Mary had perished in their carriage accident, Godwin had sent Edwina to clean up the mess. She’d dragged a kicking and screaming Nathan to Selby to be raised according to his station. He’d been heir to a great earldom, but the twins had been bastard girls born during a sinful affair that Godwin had vehemently condemned and had refused to countenance.
Edwina couldn’t bring them to Selby, so she’d delivered them…where?
“Mr. Wilson had no idea where they went?” she asked.
“Apparently, Edwina took them to an orphanage.”
Nell was aghast. “Oh, no. Why didn’t anyone try to stop her?”
“Who could? The neighbors were casually acquainted with my father, and they didn’t know Edwina at all. The twins were gone before they realized what she intended.”
“You have to find them.”
“I certainly plan to.”
“How will you?” she asked.
“I’ll begin by questioning Edwina. When I first arrived at Selby as a boy, I think I pestered her about them, but she constantly insisted I was imagining them. Gradually, her lies became the truth, and I forgot they existed.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Remember that day at the cemetery? The gravestone listed my mother as Angela, and I was so confused.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“All these years, I thought my father’s mistress was my mother. I thought Mary was my mother’s name.” He rolled onto his back, and after a bit, he murmured, “As I was riding home, I had the clearest memory of my father.”
“I’m glad.”
“He and I were in his library, and he was talking to me about my sisters. He said they’d have trouble in their lives and that I’d need to watch over them for him. I didn’t understand why, but he must have been worried about my grandfather. It was a very solemn discussion, and I was so little! It had such an effect on me.”
“Of course it would have.”
“I’ve been so frustrated in my life because I felt he’d given me a special charge or duty, but I couldn’t recall what it was. I was supposed to protect my sisters! It’s why I was so impertinent as a boy. My father asked me to take care of them, but the new adults in my world had made them vanish. I had no power to prevent it.”
She was rippling with remorse, hating all of it. Why couldn’t people just get along? Why not be kind and sympathetic? What was the point of such cruelty and spite?
Godwin and Edwina Blake had perpetrated such malice against one of their own, and Nathan had unearthed their perfidy. How would their family ever muddle through in a sane way?
“Where might they be right now?” she inquired. “If you had to guess, what would you predict?”
“I hope they’re not dead,” he bluntly stated.
“Don’t even say it!” she scolded. “I won’t let you be a pessimist.”
“Thank you. If ever I am being particularly cynical, please deliver a dose of optimism.”
“I will, but what is your opinion about them? Where might they be?”
“I have no idea. If they were conveyed to an orphanage, their conclusion may have been dire. I have to sit Edwina down and force her to tell me what she knows.”
“And if she won’t? Or if she lies to you again?”
“I’ll interrogate the older servants such as Dobbs. There are ledger books, records, and letters too. I’ll search them for clues.”
“I’ll help you,” she offered, and she wished she’d have the chance, but she was quite sure she was about to depart Selby.
He smiled. “I’d like that.”
“And I could speak to my friend too. The do-gooder who runs an orphanage? She might have some suggestions for us. We’ll figure it out.”
He sighed with what sounded like contentment, and she sighed too, deeming it a perfect moment. She kept having perfect moments with him, and she whispered a silent prayer, that she’d find a way to stay in his life, that she’d see him occasionally, that they could always be friends.
&
nbsp; It was a futile request though. Men like him didn’t have friendships with women like her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t yearn for it. Why not? The world was structured to spin in one direction, but maybe a miracle could occur. Perhaps she could have him for her very own. Or perhaps she could wind up with a tiny piece of him. She wouldn’t be greedy.
She was cataloguing details so she’d never forget. The rain beat a gentle rhythm on the roof, and the logs cracked in the grate. The afternoon was waning, evening settling in.
When she glanced over at him, she wasn’t surprised to discover that he’d dozed off. He’d been terribly injured in Africa, and while his condition was swiftly improving, he wasn’t in the best of health. With him traveling to London and back that day, he had to be exhausted.
If she’d had any sense remaining, she’d have grabbed her possessions and snuck out. She should have been pouting in her bedchamber. What if Florence had checked on her? What then? A supper tray would be brought to Nell’s room. If she wasn’t there to receive it, what might happen?
For once, she didn’t care. She’d been incredibly hurt by Florence’s remarks during their quarrel, and she was in no hurry to comply or grovel.
She studied Nathan, and he looked younger when he was sleeping. The frown lines that marred his handsome face had vanished. He appeared healthier, happier, as if no catastrophe had ever laid him low.
She wondered how long he’d nap and how long she’d tarry. What if he slumbered until dawn? Would she dare linger until he roused? She knew she couldn’t, but when would she ever have an opportunity like this again?
Florence was planning to send her to London, and Nell would have to leave for town. She couldn’t refuse to obey. So…there was just this night and these few hours. She would dawdle. She would treat herself with his mesmerizing presence.
Morning would come soon enough, and when the sun was up, she’d worry about the ramifications. She closed her eyes and slept too.
* * * *
Nathan woke, but didn’t panic over where he was. He was in the gatekeeper’s cottage, stretched out on the bed with Nell.
He had no idea what time it was, but it was still raining. He could hear it hitting the roof. Through the cracks in the shutters, he could see it was dark outside. The fire had dwindled to embers, and the temperature had cooled, but they were comfortably snuggled under the blanket.
