*
In so many ways, he wanted to hold on to his anger. It made it easier. But her explanation was at once so understandable and so maddening that he could not continue to be angry at her. He understood. For the longest time, after he’d been forced to kill Randall Grantham, any loud noise would make him jump, anything that even sounded remotely like the report of a firearm would have sweat beading on his skin and his heart racing. The invisible scars were always the deepest and those that caused the most lingering pain.
It was maddening to him to know that she’d had no one. That she’d been a young girl, the same age as Lila, and had to fend off the advances of grown men. But there was the other possibility, that perhaps she hadn’t been able to fend them off, that she’d been hurt by those same men in ways that he would never be able to understand and never be able to heal.
“I’m not them, Primrose. She is but a child and she is my sister. Those things are sacrosanct to me. Do you believe that?” His tone and his words were demanding, still tinged with the highly charged emotion between them.
“I do believe it,” she said, meeting his gaze directly for the first time. “And I am sorry to have offended you.”
Silence grew, stretching between them as they stood there in the dimness of the corridor, their eyes locked with one another. The servants would all be below stairs tidying up after supper or seeing to their own meals. They were essentially alone on the third floor but for two children sleeping in the rooms beyond. Finally, when it had drawn out so long that they were forced to break eye contact, Cornelius spoke and uttered something that nearly broke him. “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry no one was there to protect you when you were Lila’s age. There should have been.”
“It was never your father,” she said. “I don’t want you to think poorly of him in that regard. He was always kind to us. Absentminded, but kind. Mother would often have protectors who were gentlemen… and things were better then. We’d live in better places, have clothes and enough food. But it was those times between, when she was forced to work the streets like so many other women, that was when things were really terrible.”
“Like when you were living in the Devil’s Acre?” Cornelius asked. He knew the answer and, in truth, there was little else that needed to be said between them, but he was reluctant to let the moment end. She was more open, whether out of guilt for what she’d believed of him for that split second outside Lila’s room or because the rush of unpleasant memories had left her vulnerable. He couldn’t say. He just knew that he was reluctant to see it end. It was probably a terrible thing of him to exploit it, but she was so guarded, it was perhaps the most honest moment that had passed between them.
“Yes,” she conceded. “It was while we were there. Nothing ever happened… truly. But there was a night when a man came to our room looking for my mother and she had not yet arrived home. He offered me the coins that were intended for her.”
He felt ill at the thought of it. “How old were you?”
“Ten or eleven, I think. Too young for what he was asking but old enough to know that he might get impatient and leave and we needed those coins. I was tempted… very tempted. Desperate. But I couldn’t. He had rotting teeth and horrible breath and when I smelled it, I retched. He struck me then, at the precise moment when my mother entered. She threw him out, coin or no coin, and pleaded with me to never be like her. I’ve tried very hard to live up to that promise, Lord Ambrose. It’s never been difficult until now. And that is why I don’t think I can stay here with you. When Lila feels more comfortable here, I will leave. I can get a job as a governess or companion and no one would think it odd. Not even Hyacinth, though she’d likely suspect my true motives for leaving.”
“I don’t want that for you.” The protest was instantaneous. No one knew better than he did that women in such positions were vulnerable, far more so than she might suspect. Hadn’t his own father seduced one of his governesses?
“But it’s what I want for myself, Lord Ambrose. I’m not the sort of girl a man like you marries. And I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed myself to be any other sort… so leaving is best. But it’ll be a while yet.”
She started to walk away but he couldn’t let it end like that. Reaching out, he caught her arm. The touch was gentle, just enough to halt her but not enough pressure that she couldn’t break free and move on if she chose to.
“I can’t be here like this with you,” she said simply. “It’s tempting fate in ways that neither of us ought to.”
“You are precisely the sort of girl a man marries, Primrose. Do you really think it would matter to me?”
“That I have no fortune? That I’m a bastard? That my mother was a whore? That you are a titled gentleman who has a duty to perpetuate the prosperity of your estates? I think if it doesn’t matter to you, Lord Ambrose, you are a fool,” she said.
“There are worse things to be than a fool.”
She laughed at that. “Such as?”
“Alone. Unhappy. Miserable and desperate to feel a connection to another human being. I’ve felt all of those things, Primrose. I’d take being a fool any day,” he said.
“But I wouldn’t. And all those ugly things I thought of you tonight… I’ll think them again. Because I can’t help it. Because that’s a part of who I am now. And every time I think them, it would hurt you again. How long would your foolishness last then, my lord? Not very long I suspect. It would all too quickly be replaced with regret. And that’s something neither of us should have to live with.”
She walked away, moving past him and down the stairs while he stood there, staring at the door to the nursery and trying to fathom how in the world to fix the mess of everything.
Chapter Fifteen
For the sake of comfort, they were taking two carriages into Bath. But it wasn’t just the comfort of not being packed in atop one another. It was so that he might avoid Miss Primrose Collier and to avoid having to revisit the occurrences of the night before in his mind. On that score, it had failed miserably. He’d been unable to think of anything else. She’d been two nights in his home and on both nights, they’d had unchaperoned encounters in the corridor. And while he hadn’t done anything dishonorable, he hadn’t told her the truth of his intentions, that he wanted her for his wife. He’d hinted. He’d made veiled references, but she’d dismissed them out of hand obviously not thinking he could be serious. And now if he told her, she would think he was only trying to keep her small family together to benefit Lila.
All the reasons she’d laid out for how inappropriate she would be as a choice for his bride were true. And he gave a damn for none of them.
Regret weighed heavily on him. He regretted what he had done, but just as deeply regretted what he had not. That first night, he’d stood there, close enough to kiss her, the desire to do so burning inside him. And she’d turned her face up to him, clearly anticipating the same. For just a moment, she had wanted that kiss as well, until good sense and reason had prevailed. And the second night, he should have told her. He should have adamantly refused her notion of taking a job as a governess or companion and explained to her in no uncertain terms that her place was with him. But he had not, and now the time for action was past and there was a chasm growing between them. She’d been distant and aloof at breakfast, to the point that even Hyacinth had sensed it and frowned thoughtfully at the both of them.
At nearly midday, they were well on their way to Bath with Primrose and Hyacinth in the carriage with Rowan and Lila while he rode with Arabella in the second coach. As per her usual, she had filled the silence with her incessant chatter.
“I must say, I rather like the girls. Naturally, Rowan and Lila are a bit much to handle at my age, but they are still delightful children. I am pleased at how well-mannered they are despite their rather unconventional upbringing. I do not think that it will be difficult at all to get the girls launched into society and find them husbands. I assume that is your plan, of course. To find them
husbands?”
“I do not have a plan for them, Arabella. They are perfectly capable of making plans of their own,” he answered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. She exhausted him. Always. He loved her. A kinder woman he’d never known, and yet, she talked more than any ten people. He honestly didn’t know where she found the breath.
“Well you must have, Cornelius! Surely you were not so limited in your vision to have brought them here with no thought as to what they might do? I do hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I am an old woman. I will not live forever. Lila is your sister, so if she remains with you, so long as her parentage is acknowledged, there will be no difficulty there. And Rowan, being a boy child, will be fine. But those young ladies, and despite the nature of their births I do believe that we cannot call them anything less, cannot remain with you given how loosely they are connected to you in a familial way! They must have either husbands or employment in respectable households. Without it, they would be as ruined as their poor mother had been. I blame your father, of course. I did adore him, but he had such short-sightedness when it came to the women who flitted in and out his life, never thinking of the damage he might be doing or what he should do for them to ensure their futures.”
“Aunt Arabella, they have been here for only a few days and you are hardly at death’s door at the present. Can we not discuss this at some other time once everyone has been properly outfitted and had an opportunity to settle into their new surroundings?”
She huffed out a breath, her disapproval quite obvious. “My eyes are not so keen as they once were, Cornelius, but I am not blind. It is plain to me that you have some sort of attraction to the younger girl. She’s lovely enough to warrant it, I daresay. And I can find no fault with her manners or bearing. If you choose to pursue her for an honorable attachment, then I certainly will not interfere. But if you do not have honorable intentions toward her—”
“I have no intentions toward her,” he said firmly. “None.” It was a lie. He did. But until he had some inkling of how to proceed, the last thing he needed was to have Arabella meddling in it. She’d never be able to keep the information to herself regardless and she would run amok telling everyone.
Her expression relayed just how dubious she found his statements to be. “Really, Cornelius! Intentions or not, can you promise me now that you will never behave in an ungentlemanly manner toward Primrose Collier while she is under your roof?”
“This is not a conversation I mean to have with you, Arabella. Leave it be,” he snapped.
“No. I will not. I refused to marry in my life, Cornelius, precisely so no man would ever be able to tell me what to do… that includes you,” she replied archly. “Now, I know that you have always lived your life according to convention and to your own moral compass which necessitated doing precisely what your father never would, but I am going to tell you something about the Garrett men. Your father was the aberration. Most of them are singularly monogamous creatures. Their passions can be stirred as easily as any man’s, but once their hearts are engaged, all women, save for the objects of their affections, will cease to exist. Would it really be so terrible if Primrose Collier was the object of your affections?”
Not if she might not return those affections. Given what she’d seen of men in her life, what she’d witnessed of her mother’s degradation and the difficulties they’d experienced in their lives because of her fall from grace, would she ever be able to harbor such tender feelings for him? He didn’t know and, while he’d never have considered himself a coward, he was terrified to find out.
Cornelius did not have an opportunity to offer an answer. There was a loud commotion from the front carriage occupied by the Colliers. The sound of screams, animal and human, as well as the loud crack of splintering wood, rent the air.
Their own carriage halted abruptly, the horses whinnying in protest as they were pulled up sharply. Suddenly, the carriage went careening off to the side.
“Oh heavens! We’re all about to be killed. Highwaymen,” Arabella gasped. “We’ve been set upon by highwaymen!”
“We’ve likely been set upon by a lame horse or a broken wheel,” Cornelius said sharply. “Calm yourself, Arabella, while I go check on the others.”
Climbing down from the carriage, he surveyed the scene before him with his heart in his throat. The first carriage was on its side. One of the rear wheels had snapped off entirely. The other was still attached but mangled. The front wheels were both tilting inward, the axle obviously destroyed. Broken bits of wood and torn leather littered the road. The horses had broken free entirely and were across the small stream on the opposite bank from where the wreckage lay.
Cursing under his breath, he approached the carriage cautiously. “Primrose? Hyacinth?” he called out. “Are you injured? The children?”
“Rowan and Lila are fine,” Hyacinth called out. “But Prim is injured.”
His blood ran cold. Carefully climbing up, listening to the wooden side panels groan under his weight, he prayed it would hold long enough to at least get everyone out. Peering down into the destroyed interior of the carriage, he found himself shaken far more than he cared to admit.
Rowan was closest, so Cornelius grasped the boy’s arm to give him a hand up. But Rowan, being the excellent climber he’d boasted of, did most of the work on his own. Lila was next. She was just a slip of a thing and light as a feather. Hyacinth was not much bigger than her. Prim would be a different matter altogether because she was completely unconscious.
“How on earth will you get her out?” Hyacinth asked.
“I will. Rest assured,” he vowed and then disappeared into the darker interior of the broken vehicle. He crouched beside her and felt her pulse. It was steady and strong beneath his fingers, but the rivulet of blood that trickled along the side of her face was cause for alarm. Head wounds could be tricky.
“Primrose?”
She groaned lightly, a slightly groggy sound. But at least she had some awareness of her surroundings and was responsive. Feeling along her neck and shoulders for any breaks, he then checked her limbs. Finding nothing, he placed his palm against her cheek and said her name again, much more firmly. “Primrose Collier?”
Her eyes opened and then she closed them again with a cry of pain.
“I know it hurts… is it just your head?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said on an anguished whisper.
“I’m going to have to put you over my shoulder, Prim, and climb out of the carriage. It overturned. Do you remember?”
“The wheel snapped,” she said.
“Yes, it did,” he replied. “I need you to stay awake if you can to make sure not to bump your head any further while we extricate ourselves from this.”
“I can climb out,” she protested. “Just hand me up.”
“Are you certain?” he asked. It was impossible to keep his skepticism at bay.
Her eyes opened again, half-mast, and she glared at him beneath her lowered lashes. “I will not be hauled out of here like a sack of grain. I can manage at least part of it on my own.”
Why that was so bloody important to her, he didn’t know. But if it would get her out of that darkened wreck so that she could be properly examined, he’d do it. “Fine. Let me help you up. You may be lightheaded.”
Cornelius helped her to stand. She stumbled slightly, falling against him. He caught her, keeping her from doing greater harm. “Do not push yourself into taking foolish risks, Primrose. Let me carry you.”
“The opening is too narrow, Lord Ambrose,” she protested. “You’ll injure yourself. If you can just push me up to the opening, then Hyacinth and Rowan can help me the rest of the way.”
Uneasy with the decision, he said, “Place your hands on my shoulders.” When she had done so, he stooped low and clasped his arms about her thighs, lifting her up the open door. Hyacinth and Rowan were there, hauling her up the rest of the way as he continued to support most of her weight. When
she’d managed to wiggle through enough, he let go of her. He missed the contact immediately. It wasn’t even about the sensual aspect of it, though later he would likely be tormented by the memory of how lithe and supple her thighs had felt beneath his hands. For the moment, however, he just missed being able to touch her, to assure himself that she was well.
When the Colliers had moved away from the topsy-turvy door of the coach, he hoisted himself up and then clambered down to where Arabella was fanning herself exaggeratedly and working her way into a fit of the vapors. Prim was leaning heavily against Hyacinth while Lila pressed a makeshift bandage to the head of the coachman.
“What shall we do, Cornelius?” Arabella began. “We cannot all possibly fit into one carriage and heaven knows that we cannot be left here alone while you ride away for help. We’ll be killed on the road by brigands! Brigands, I tell you!”
“No one will be left behind and we can most assuredly all fit in one coach. It will be cramped, but we will not be going far, simply turning around and returning to Avondale,” he stated emphatically.
“Forgive me, Lord Ambrose, but we are nearly halfway to Bath and I know that your brother, Dr. Warner, is there with his wife. Might we not go on ahead to him?” Hyacinth asked. “I’m very worried for Prim.”
Cornelius dared a glance at her and noted immediately that Primrose’s pallor had become ashen and she was not doing at all well. She leaned weakly against her sister and the blood seeping from her wound appeared to be flowing far more freely than any of them had first realized. She was also favoring her left arm, which was quite worrisome. Was it fractured after all? Had he missed it when he did such a cursory exam or had it occurred while she was being hoisted out?
“I will take one of the horses and ride with Prim to Wolfhaven Hall which is but five miles away,” he said.
The Awakening of Lord Ambrose (The Lost Lords Book 6) Page 10
