by Kelly Boyce
“What was the purpose of you leaving Marcus behind as you did?”
“He did not want to go. He never wanted to go.”
Grandfather shook his head. “Whatever are you talking about?”
Of course Grandfather would have no idea. Bowen would never have breathed a word of his displeasure to the man who had raised him and given him a livelihood far better than the son of servants could ever hope for. It had been for his own good, and as such, Spence had no compunction about holding his tongue.
“Bowen hated traveling to the islands. He’s loathes the water.” Spence stood and paced. He had meant to do something good, to help Bowen. Now look at him, caught in some silent world between the living and the dead.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why Marcus did not hesitate to jump into the lake and save Blackbourne’s sister when she was but a little thing. Or have you forgotten that?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” Nick’s younger sister had been trying to catch their attention where they played nearby and had jumped into the lake. The weight of her soaked dress quickly made it impossible for her to remain afloat. “But that is what Bowen does, Grandfather. It’s what he’s always done. He sets aside his own wants or needs to help those he cares about. He didn’t jump into the lake because he did not fear water. He jumped into the lake because he could not stand by and allow Lady Rebecca to drown. And so he sails to the islands even though it makes him ill every time because you ask it of him. That is why he’s lying here now. He has an overblown sense of duty!”
“At least someone in this family knows the meaning of the word duty.” Grandfather’s words stopped Spence cold. “Do not try and tell me your only purpose for commandeering the Windswept was to relieve Marcus of sailing to the islands.”
Spence’s sense of self-righteous indignation fizzled. Grandfather knew him too well. “I grant you, I hoped to benefit it from it as well. I have told you, I have no plans to marry.”
“I know what you have told me. But like Marcus, you have a duty to this family. Had you done yours, and allowed Marcus to do his, he would not be lying here in this bed now.”
Spence had no argument to that. Surely a bout of seasickness proved a far better alternative than a knife to the belly. “I will not marry. I will not drag some poor woman into the misery my parents shared.”
“What makes you so certain your marriage will be like theirs?”
Spence cut the air with his arm. “Look at our family history, Grandfather! Aside from you and Grandmama, name me one other happy marriage our family has managed in recent history?” Grandfather said nothing as no such example existed. “We are not built for marriage and I will not consign myself or someone else to a lifetime of misery.”
Grandfather rose and walked to the window, staring out at the limited view. “Then you leave me no alternative.”
Spence did not like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”
“I have given this much thought.”
He liked the sound of that even less.
“You have had more than enough time to change your ways and do what is required of you. Yet you still have shown no leanings toward doing your duty.”
Spence’s lungs squeezed and his chest tightened. “Grandfather, as I have said—”
His grandfather turned away from the window, the sudden movement cutting Spence off. “And I have told you, Spencer—you must marry. The succession of the title must be secured and the family line must continue. This point is not negotiable. You are the only son of my only son and the duty falls to you.”
“Well, I don’t want it.” He hated how he sounded like a petulant child being force fed some horrid dish of mashed peas.
“That is immaterial.” Grandfather walked toward him with resolve. “You have promised Lady Caelie to see her married before the end of the Season.”
“Did she tell you why?”
“She told us enough, though I suspect there is more that has gone unsaid.”
Spence glanced away, unable to meet his grandfather’s gaze. If he did, the older man would see the truth of his assumption and Spence did not want him to think badly of Caelie. None of this was her fault.
Grandfather let it go. “Well enough. But I will see you married by the end of this Season as well.”
Spence’s head snapped back. “Are you suggesting I marry Lady Caelie?”
As much a relief marrying her over anyone else would be, he would not do it. She, above all, deserved a happy life after everything she had been through. He would not rob her of that chance.
“Heavens, no.” Grandfather brushed the idea away with a wave of his hand. “Her family is far too riddled with scandal to make her suitable.”
“She had nothing to do with the scandal in her family.” He didn’t know why he jumped to her defense so readily. Or why a strange sense of disappointment filled him at his grandfather’s definitive rejection of the idea.
“Be that as it may, you know how I feel about attaching any further scandal to this family. We have seen our fair share and I will not willingly court more of it.”
Spence straightened and held firm. “And I will not marry.”
“You will. Or I will disinherit you.”
“You can’t disinherit me. I am the heir.”
“Only to the title and the entailed property and you will not receive that until I die,” Grandfather said with an incline of his head. “As to everything else, I can leave my fortune to whomever I please.”
Spence blinked. Everything else included the bulk of Grandfather’s wealth. He had accumulated it over his lifetime through savvy investments and lucrative businesses. Many in society had looked down their nose at such dabbling, thinking it beneath them. Yet, those same individuals thought nothing of coming to Grandfather with their hands out when their own estates could not survive on the income they generated.
The entailed property was substantial as well, but he would see none of that until his grandfather passed on, and given Grandfather’s stalwart health despite his advanced age, that event would likely not occur for some time. Which meant his grandfather could cut him off completely at any moment and he would be left with nothing. Not a single shilling.
“You would leave me destitute?” The idea held as little appeal to him as marriage.
A small smile curved one side of his grandfather’s mouth into a smile. “Indeed.”
What did his grandfather expect him to do if he wasn’t assisting in running the estates? He wasn’t like Bowen. He hadn’t been trained for anything else. The suggestion bordered on preposterous. “You wouldn’t.”
“I will.” Grandfather’s stoic expression told Spence the man had no intention of backing down. He’d made up his mind, and when the Marquess of Ellesmere decided upon a course of action, Hercules himself could not budge him from it.
“Why are you doing this?”
His grandfather stepped toward him and placed a strong hand on his shoulder. For a brief moment, warmth radiated from his features. “Because it needs to be done, Spencer. You cannot use your parents’ marriage as an excuse forever.”
But it wasn’t an excuse. It was a warning. One Spence had taken to heart as he sat on the cold ground in the dark of night, his dead parents next to him.
Grandfather squeezed his shoulder. “Get some sleep, son. It has been a trying day. Tomorrow, we will discuss what is to be done.”
Spence nodded but could not find the words to answer. Grandfather’s decree rang in his ears with the ferocity of iron bars being slammed shut in front of him, cutting off any hope for a happy future.
Spence waited for his grandfather to leave and Mrs. Faraday to arrive. His grandparents did not want to leave Bowen unattended and Spence himself was reluctant to quit the room, afraid if he did something would befall his friend and he’d be unable to prevent it.
“I promise I will keep a close eye on ’im, m’lord.”
Spence nodded as he hovered near the edge of the bed. “Do you think
he’ll get better?”
Mrs. Faraday’s answer did not come swift enough for his liking and when it did, he heard the doubt laced around her words. “He’s a strong lad, m’lord. If anyone can pull through this, it’s he.”
If.
Spence despised that word.
“Is Lady Caelie settled?” He had left her with his grandparents, left her to piece together the story of how they had ended up here.
“Oh yes, we put her up in the lavender room.”
“The lavender room?” It had been his aunt’s bedroom when she lived and while Grandmama always kept it ready to receive a guest, Spence could not recall anyone ever actually staying in it.
“I think it will be to ’er liking. She seems an easy one to please.”
He could not argue Mrs. Faraday’s assessment. Caelie had been easy to please. She’d taken every lump and bump thrown at her without the smallest complaint. He’d known grown men with less fortitude than her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Faraday. Well…” He cast one last look at Bowen. “I suppose I should find my own bed. You’ll let me know if there’s any change?”
“Of course, I will. Now off t’bed with ya.” She shooed him out of the room as if he was still the small boy she used to chase out of the kitchens. The familiarity filled him with warmth. It was good to be home, he just wished it hadn’t come at such a high price for everyone involved.
He made his way down the hallway to his own bedroom but stopped as he passed the lavender room and hovered outside its door. For a little over a week he had passed his evenings with Caelie, talking to her, teasing her, entertaining her with stories. How odd it seemed now to turn in without the benefit of her company. Without wishing her a good night. Without her smile being the last thing he saw before she turned down the lamp next to her bed.
He could sorely use her smile now. Maybe if he saw it, it would give him hope that matters would right themselves. Perhaps she could talk past the insistent chatter in his head telling him what a mess he’d made of everything.
He tapped on the door before good sense told him to turn away. Likely she had fallen fast asleep and dreamed of better days—of the husband he would find her and a house filled with children who had fiery locks and emerald eyes.
He started to turn away when the door opened. “Lord Huntsleigh.” She wore a dressing gown over her nightdress. It must be her favorite as he had seen her wear the same one numerous times at the inn. Concern furrowed her brow and she opened the door a little wider. “Is it Mr. Bowen?”
“Yes. I mean, no. He’s no worse.” He shook his head. “He’s no better.”
He stared at her and in that moment he understood what she had done with Billingsworth. He hadn’t understood before. Not truly. Now he did. It wasn’t a habit created from their travels that had brought him to her door. He didn’t need to entertain her with a story, or tease her, or play a game of cards.
He just needed to be near her. Her closeness made him feel better. And he needed to feel better now. He needed solace. She had done the same under far more trying circumstances.
He could not condemn her or think less of her for it.
She opened the door and stepped aside. “Come in.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I should not have disturbed you.”
Now that he stood inside of her bedchamber, his good sense banged on the other side of the closed door and demanded entry. He had no business being there, certainly not with her in this state of dress and no chaperone and—
He laughed. Had they not been down this road already? Had this not been the past week of their lives?
“What is so funny?”
Spence shook his head. “I just realized how improper the past week has been and yet—”
“And yet?”
“And yet it feels anything but. It doesn’t feel wrong to be here with you. I know it should, but somehow it feels completely natural. I think…” He furrowed his brow. “Have we become friends?”
She smiled and it washed over him like a warm bath. He wanted to sink into it. Into her.
“I would like to think we have.”
He nodded. Such a strange idea. He did not think he had ever been friends with a woman. Had never thought to get that close. Oh, surely he was fond of Nick’s wife, Abigail, and his sister, Lady Rebecca, but this felt different. Special. Something that belonged only to them.
“Tell me how Mr. Bowen fares.” Caelie took his hand and placed it against her heart. Its strong beat kept a steady rhythm beneath their entwined fingers. Or was that his pulse? Either way, her closeness proved a balm on nerves ravaged by worry. Yet, at the same time, being near her filled him with a strange anticipation he could not quite nail down.
“He is just lying there. He doesn’t move, save to breathe. It looks as if he is sleeping but I fear it is such a deep sleep he may never awaken.” There. He’d said it. He’d given the words wings. “What if he doesn’t?”
Caelie took a step closer until he could feel the warmth of her body. He closed his eyes and pulled her even closer until only their clasped hands kept their bodies apart. He rested his forehead against hers and took in a deep breath. This was what he needed.
“Mr. Bowen is strong and healthy.” Her breath whispered against his skin. “If he has held on this long, my guess is he wishes to fight and find his way back. You told me he is a very determined sort. I expect he will be equally as determined now.”
What she said made sense and the fear clutching his heart eased somewhat. “Thank you for saying that.”
“It is only the truth, my lord.”
“Spencer.” He lifted his head to gaze at her. “We are friends, are we not? You should call me by my name.”
“It would be improper.”
He glanced around the room, at their current situation and smiled at her. She laughed lightly when he lifted an eyebrow. “Very well, then. Spencer.”
The sound of his name on her lips poured through him like warmed brandy. He closed his eyes for a brief moment to savor the sensation. “I like the sound of that.”
“The sound of what?”
“My name on your lips.” He opened his eyes. He pulled their hands to his side and drew her even closer until only a hair’s breadth separated them. Too close for propriety, though he’d never been much of a stickler for such things. But even he knew he stood on dangerous ground.
Yet he did nothing to step away from it.
Nor did she.
“Would you say it again?”
Her lips parted and his gaze fell upon them. Heat pooled in his groin and his body shook with longing and expectation.
“Spencer,” she whispered and this time she closed her eyes. Her breasts lifted against the scooped neckline of her dressing gown as she took a deep breath. Did she feel it too, this strange current that enveloped them? It was the same one he’d felt that night at the inn when she’d listened to him relive the story of his parents death and offered him comfort with a kiss. He wished she would do that again. He wouldn’t stop her. It was just a kiss, after all.
Except that it wasn’t. It hadn’t been that night at the inn and it wouldn’t be now. It would be nothing more than a torment because for every day following he would remember it. He would feel it all over again when he watched her dance in the arms of another man. It would worsen when she accepted another man’s proposal and become unbearable when she stood at the altar and pledged her life to someone other than him.
But it would never be him.
It couldn’t be.
All the things she wanted, he could never give her. He could not stand the idea of the kiss they might share now turning into something terrible, and it would. That’s what marriage did. It took something lovely and made it into something dark and twisted. Passion turned to contempt, loving glancing to glares of anger and resentment.
He could not stand the thought of Caelie looking at him in such a way. He would die inside. And worse, so would she. It would d
estroy everything wonderful about her. Her sunny disposition, her warmth, her loving nature.
Spence cupped the side of her face. She turned her head slightly to nestle into his touch. His heart twisted painfully. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against her cheek and held himself there, soaking in the warmth of her body, her enticing scent, the taste of her skin.
He had come to her seeking comfort. He had found so much more.
“Goodnight, Caelie.” The words whispered out of him and even he could hear the desperation buried inside of them.
He forced himself to step away, to turn and walk through the bedroom door and down the hallway without looking back. His body screamed for mercy, his heart insisted he return to her, but his head knew better. His head knew how things would end if he did.
No, better he leave her now, that he keep the friendship they shared and protect it from becoming broken into fragments that would never fit back together.
He reached his room at the end of the long hall and pushed inside. His back pressed the door closed and he leaned there until his legs threatened to give out. When that finally happened, he sank to the floor, afraid if he moved at all his will would evaporate and he’d seek her out and ruin them both.
* * *
Caelie felt no more rested the next morning than she had been when they arrived in London the day before. Spencer’s impromptu visit to her room, the kiss that almost happened, her body’s response—all of it kept her tossing and turning for the rest of the night. Her body raged with unfulfilled desire and she could not close her eyes without the image of his hands exploring every inch of her skin. Bringing an end to the ache throbbing between her legs herself had only served to torment her more.
As she sat in front of the vanity while Elsie dressed her hair, she knew it to be folly to allow her thoughts to traipse down that road. Lord Ellesmere had made it clear he would not consider her as a suitable option for Spencer’s wife. She, in turn, had given her word she had no intention of pursuing him.
Not that it mattered. In the end, Spencer hadn’t kissed her. He had come to her for comfort, nothing more. Motives she understood only too well. She also understood the pain acting on them created. She should be thankful Spencer had shown such restraint. His ability to do so spoke volumes, for she knew she did not possess the same level of control. Had he kissed her, she would have returned it—and more.
