by Cheryl Holt
“You will not bring them here! You will not!”
“It’s not up to you. Selby is mine—as you never cease to remind me—and I’m proceeding as I deem appropriate. I like Trevor, and if he’s happy to have Susan as his bride, that’s fine with me.”
“May I have an opinion about it?”
“No.”
“Are there to be no consequences for their rash deed? They can wreck Percy’s betrothal? Trevor can betray his brother? Susan can betray Percy? They can devastate their parents, but there will be no price to pay?”
“Mr. Middleton is revoking Susan’s dowry, so I imagine there will be plenty of penalties assessed in the coming months and years. But they won’t be punished by me. They’re not criminals.”
She bristled. “You enjoy humiliating me, don’t you? What will the neighbors say? What will my friends say?”
“You have friends?” he snidely asked.
Steam was practically shooting out of her ears. “You think you’re so smart. You think it’s funny to enrage and debase me, but you’ll get your comeuppance someday. I swear it!”
“I really don’t believe I will.”
He started out, and she shouted, “You will not go after them, Nathan!”
“Don’t order me about in this. You can’t.”
“I will bar the doors. The three of you will be denied entrance.”
He halted and whirled on her. “Stop being melodramatic. I can’t abide your theatrics.”
“You’re in England for what I’m certain will be a few weeks, so you suppose you’re in charge and in control, but this is my home. These are my servants. They’ll do as I bid them, or they’ll find jobs elsewhere.”
Her comment had crossed a line with him. He marched over to her so they were toe to toe. He was a very large man, and he towered over her.
“With how you acted in the library a bit ago,” he said, “I’ve been wondering if you aren’t half-mad. If you assume you can have the servants disregard my commands, then I’m no longer wondering. You’ve tipped off your rocker. Next time I’m in London, shall I check the asylums? Shall I purchase a bed for you?”
“I won’t listen to you when you’re being so impertinent.”
She tamped down her tone and vitriol though. Throughout their horrid life together, she’d spoken to him in any severe manner she pleased, but she always forgot that he wasn’t a boy. He was a powerful adult who had complete authority over her and the estate.
A man could have any woman committed to an asylum—his wife, his mother, his sister, his aunt—and she could never obtain her release. A warning bell rang in her head, and she retrenched and backed down.
“I’ve had a difficult day,” she said. “I should mind my tongue.”
“Yes, you should, and we’ve all had a difficult day, so don’t use it as an excuse for being rude. Now then, while I’m away, I suggest you talk to Percy about his daughters. He’s lost Susan’s money, and he probably would have spent some of it supporting them. He’ll need to devise a new plan.”
“I don’t care if they starve.”
“Well, I care, and you should too. They’re your grandchildren after all.”
She trembled with fury. “They are not and never will be my grandchildren.”
Nathan ignored her and persisted with his harangue. “We should bring his girls to Selby. They’d be safe here, and we could hire a crofter’s wife to look after them.”
On hearing his idea, she nearly fainted. “I forbid you to even consider it!”
“When I return, I will expect you to tell me what you and Percy have decided.”
“I won’t decide anything. I’d rather jump off a cliff.”
“Also, you and I will have a lengthy discussion on a few pertinent…topics.”
“What topics?”
“We’ll begin with my sisters and proceed from there.”
Panic seized her before she could totally conceal it. She’d lied to him for twenty-four years, and she would continue to lie.
“You have no sisters,” she firmly declared.
“Nice try, Edwina, but I discovered the truth when I was in town.”
“You couldn’t have because there is no truth to be discovered.”
“You can prevaricate all you like, but I intend to dig into our records. I’ll question the older servants and the tenants too.”
She was aghast and struggling to tabulate a list of names as to who’d been present all those years ago. Who might have eavesdropped as Godwin was raging or Edwina was whispering secrets?
What might Nathan do? What might he demand? Where would it leave her?
“There is naught to be revealed,” she claimed, “so it will be a fool’s errand.”
“We’re far past that story, Edwina.”
“Your father’s death was tragic, and I did what was required of me as your aunt. I was your grandfather’s most devoted companion, and I carried out whatever duty he requested of me.”
“I’ve been certain that would be your position, which is why I am certain it’s time for you to depart Selby. While I’m away, would you like to travel to town and shop for a house for yourself? You and Percy can live there together, for after I unravel the rest of the information about my sisters, I am positive you won’t be residing here with Trevor and me.”
“I’m not moving to town! You could never make me!”
“When it suits you, you conveniently forget who I am and what I’m capable of perpetrating. Think hard, Aunt. Think about what you want to tell me. I’ll listen to a few justifications, but I won’t listen to too many of them, and I won’t listen very long.”
He whipped away and stomped out, and though she called and called to him, he didn’t stop.
Bleak memories pelted her, and she shook violently, not able to push them away.
His half-sister, Rebecca, had been sent off with her mother’s awful cousin, Beatrice Carter, who’d refused to aid sickly little Sarah. She’d been delivered to an orphanage, but it wasn’t just any orphanage. It had been a facility for the bastards of aristocrats and other rich scoundrels. It wasn’t some filthy public charity. It had been a private enterprise, funded by wealthy families.
Edwina had never checked on either girl, but it hadn’t been her responsibility to check. She was sure they’d been fine. Fine! And if they weren’t, it wasn’t her fault. Godwin had forced her to rid him of them. What should she have done instead? Should she have drowned them in the Thames?
Nathan’s angry strides faded down the stairs. After all the earlier upheaval, the house was very quiet, the staff tiptoeing, so she heard him exit the manor, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
While he was away, she would find Godwin’s ledgers and correspondence, and she’d burn every piece of evidence about the twins. Then she’d have to ascertain how to thwart Nathan with regard to Trevor and Susan. Despite what he assumed, they weren’t coming to Selby.
She would stay, and they would not return. It would happen over her dead body.
She rang for Dobbs. He knew all of Godwin’s worst sins, and he could drag out the old records for her. She would start a huge fire so once Nathan was back, there wouldn’t be a shred of proof. She nodded grimly, ready to get to work.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Trevor loitered on the porch of the Gretna Green coaching inn where he and Susan had spent the night. In another hour, they had an appointment at a chapel where a swift wedding ceremony would be performed.
He peered up at the window where their room was located on the second floor. He wished Susan might be standing there, that she’d smile down at him and wave, but she wasn’t.
When they’d registered, it had been clear they were eloping. Even though Susan had been shrewd enough to buy a cheap ring and wear it on her finger, it had been obvious they weren’t married, but the proprietor had barely blinked when they’d asked for accommodations. They’d been permitted to share a room, and he supposed people in the town had a pragmatic view of the frantic lover
s who arrived.
The need for haste was normally caused by the bride already being in the family way, so the damage was done. There was probably little reason to separate couples.
If he’d been a true gentleman, he’d have demanded separate bedchambers, but the pathetic fact was that he didn’t have much money in his purse. He was twenty-four and his sole income was a small allowance from his mother. After his absconding with Susan, what would happen now? He had no idea, but he was fairly sure his allowance would be ending.
When he and Susan had crept out of the manor, it had seemed so thrilling. He kept telling her they would be fine, but anxiety was pounding just below the surface.
What was transpiring back at Selby? His note had to have been found and given to his mother. After she’d read it, how had she reacted? What about Percy? He’d lost Susan’s dowry, which would drive him mad with fury.
Would Percy kill Trevor? Would Edwina? Would Mr. Middleton? He was most terrified of Mr. Middleton. Was he—at that very moment—racing to Scotland?
To Trevor’s great shame, he and Susan had forged ahead with the consummation. With their affection so blatant, it had been impossible not to proceed, but they weren’t yet husband and wife, hadn’t officially spoken the vows.
Mr. Middleton could grab Susan and gallop away with her, and Trevor couldn’t prevent it. Her father could lock her away—in the convent or asylum Mrs. Middleton had threatened—and Trevor would never see her again.
A rider suddenly trotted in, and Trevor had to blink over and over before he could convince himself it was his cousin, Nathan.
Nathan had come? Nathan was the emissary enlisted to stop them?
He couldn’t decide if he was relieved or frightened. What would Nathan’s opinion be of the debacle? If he’d sided with Susan’s parents and thought he could avert the marriage, Trevor couldn’t predict how he’d respond.
He’d never been much of a brawler, and Nathan was bigger and tougher and more determined. If they were to fight, Nathan would likely win any fisticuffs. Then again, he was rundown from his recent ordeal in Africa. Trevor could only hope his deteriorated condition would leave him weaker and slower than usual.
Nathan noticed him right away, and his expression was inscrutable. Was he angry? Was he exasperated? As he dismounted and handed his horse to a stable boy, he provided no clue as to his mood.
“Hello, Cousin,” Trevor said, as Nathan marched over. “I won’t ask why you’re here.”
“I must admit I had plenty of other chores to occupy me this week. I didn’t need to waste energy traipsing after you.”
“But you did anyway.” Trevor smirked with disgust. “Who sent you? Mother? Percy? Mr. Middleton? Or have you come all on your own?”
“Don’t be a prick, Trevor.” Nathan gestured into the building. “I assume this establishment has a taproom. Are they serving whiskey this early?”
“It’s Scotland. Of course they’re serving whiskey.”
Nathan stomped by Trevor, tossing over his shoulder, “Get your ass in here. Don’t make me tell you twice.”
Trevor spun and followed his cousin, as Nathan seated himself at a table by the door. The place was mostly deserted, with travelers having risen at a sane hour to continue on their journeys. A few stragglers were having breakfast, and they glanced furtively at Nathan.
He dominated any space he entered—currently, his black and blue eyes had him looking particularly sinister—and he emitted an aura of strength and command that had people whispering and staring. They wondered if he was someone grand and important, and he was.
Nathan signaled to a tavern girl and ordered two whiskeys. Trevor sat silently, fuming. He wouldn’t be lectured or scolded. He was an adult man who was less than an hour away from being a husband. He wouldn’t tremble or quail. Not even for Nathan, who was head of the family and had enormous control over how the rest of Trevor’s life would unfold.
“Have you ruined her?” Nathan bluntly asked once their drinks had been delivered.
Trevor’s cheeks heated. “I won’t answer such a rude question.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Are you wed yet?”
“Yes, we’re wed.” The falsehood slipped out before Trevor could bite it down.
“Can you show me your marriage certificate? Pardon me if I refuse to accept your word, but under the circumstances, I’d like to see it for myself.”
Trevor seethed, then spat out, “I lied. The wedding is at eleven.”
“So it’s not set in stone yet.”
“No.”
Nathan sipped his liquor and drummed his fingers on the table. He studied Trevor in a manner that might have made him squirm, but he wasn’t a schoolboy who’d committed a transgression, and he wouldn’t be treated as if he was.
He decided to seize the offensive, and he repeated, “Who sent you after us? Was it my mother?”
“No, it definitely wasn’t Edwina. She demanded I let you stew in your own juice.”
“I’m not surprised. Who was it then? I can’t believe you traveled of your own accord.”
“No. It was Susan’s father, Mr. Middleton.”
“Why didn’t he come himself? Doesn’t he care about her enough to stop us?”
Susan had confided many sad tales about her upbringing. Her parents were rich, due to her father working constantly. He was rarely home, and her mother was pretentious and horrid. His own mother was the very same, and it meant they had so much in common.
Trevor’s own father had been a merry, boisterous drunkard who’d died in an accident—falling off a horse in an inebriated stupor—when Trevor was a child. If he’d lived, if he’d had a more lengthy influence on Trevor and Percy, might they have grown to be better men?
“Mr. Middleton cares about this all right,” Nathan said. “He insisted I handle it because—if he had to—he intended to have you arrested for kidnapping her.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Trevor huffed.
“I doubt he could have instigated much trouble. Not if I intervened on your behalf, but I didn’t feel we should risk it.”
“What is your purpose in this then? If you think you can keep me from proceeding, you should think again. You have the power to coerce me and direct my future, but you have absolutely no authority over Susan. You can try to take her from me, but she has no duty to heed or accompany you.”
“I realize that, and—as opposed to her father—I don’t care about her.”
“Typical of you,” Trevor muttered.
“I am concerned about you though.”
“Would that be for the only time ever?”
“Yes, probably.” Nathan snorted and meticulously scrutinized Trevor, as if looking for signs of weakness or lack of resolve, then he said, “You’ll likely be amazed to hear it, but I’ve always been fond of you.”
“You couldn’t prove it by me.”
“Well, I’m not the most demonstrative fellow, and we had an awful childhood. What with your mother and our grandfather inflicting themselves on us and making us so miserable, it was hard to bond.”
“You managed to escape though. It was a tad trickier for Percy and me.”
“Yes, I suppose it was, so I’ve been struggling to figure out my role with regard to you. I guess it should be that of a wiser, smarter, older brother.”
“And as my wiser older brother, you’ll attempt to change my mind?”
“No. I’d just like to put a few facts on the table to guarantee you’ve considered the ramifications.”
“Such as…?” Trevor snottily inquired. He wasn’t ten! Of course he’d considered the ramifications!
“Mr. Middleton is planning to disinherit Susan.”
“I imagined he would.”
“You’ll receive none of the dowry, so if you were expecting it, it won’t be paid.”
“I didn’t run off with her for her dowry. It’s not why I’m here! Can you actually believe I’d behave this outrageously simply to steal some money from Pe
rcy?”
Nathan shrugged. “Brothers perpetrate hideous sins against one another. You wouldn’t be the first sibling to abscond with an heiress.”
“I love Susan!” he vehemently declared. “I’ll love her forever, and Percy never would have. She deserved better than him.”
“I’m certain that’s true, but are you better?”
“I’ll try to be.”
“You don’t have any funds of your own.”
“No.”
“How will you support her? I haven’t ever visited the Middletons’ mansion in London, but I’m told it’s quite ostentatious. She’s been raised like a princess and showered with the best of everything. How will you keep her happy?”
“She’s content to get by with less.”
“Is she?” Nathan mused. “That’s an easy attitude to possess when you’re young and leaping into a new and thrilling endeavor. As the years slowly plod by, it might be difficult for her to accept that she can’t have her every wish granted.”
“She’s sincere. She’s simply glad we’ll be together. It’s what matters to her. The rest is merely incidental details.”
“Where are you intending to live with her?”
This was the thorniest part. He wanted to bring Susan to Selby—and to stay there with her—but Nathan had to agree that he could. Edwina would pitch a fit, and Percy would be incensed, but if he couldn’t take Susan there, what would they do?
“I’m hoping to return to Selby,” he said. “I’m hoping you’ll let me.”
Nathan stared, then nodded. “I might be willing to allow it.”
“You might be? How could I persuade you to be completely amenable?”
“It’s not you so much. I don’t mind that you and Susan have eloped, so I don’t necessarily mind having you at Selby. Your act was reckless and rash, but—as I told your mother—it’s not the end of the world.”
“You told her that? What was her response?”
“She’d like you punished until your dying day, but that seems a tad drastic to me.”
“To me too,” Trevor concurred.
“You couldn’t reside there with your mother and Percy. Not after this.”
“If we can’t come home, and Mr. Middleton has disowned Susan, what will become of us?”
