by Kelly Boyce
“Perhaps not directly, but the inference was undeniable. And you need not look so happy about it. I felt awful. I still feel awful.”
Bowen chuckled. “Good. Then perhaps you will stop trying to run away from home like an errant child.”
“I was not running away. I was doing you a favor.”
Bowen did not argue the point, but added, “While running away.”
“Grandfather is determined to get me married. You know how I feel about that.”
“There are worse fates.”
“Name one.”
“Getting stabbed by a knife wielding thug while Lady Franklyn screams bloody murder in your ear.”
Spence groaned and dropped his head back against the chair to stare at the ceiling. Trust Bowen to put him in his place with grace and humor. “Well, I’ve returned.”
“So I see. And unless I have been unconscious for far longer than I think, your planned trip to the islands was a very short one indeed.”
“According to Grandmother, you’ve been lazing about—”
“Unconscious.”
“—for three days. Four now. She thought you were a goner. She’s quite put out with you for making her worry so. I have reclaimed my status as her favorite.”
“I shall have to remedy that.”
“I believe not dying will suffice.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Spence avoided Bowen’s direct gaze. “What question was that?”
“Why did you return? I would suggest guilt, but that would require a conscience—”
“I have a very well-developed conscience, thank you.”
“I believe Lord Franklyn would beg to differ on that account.”
Spence placed a hand over his heart and feigned innocence. “You befriend a man’s neglected wife and suddenly you’re the ne’er-do-well.”
“Indeed.”
“Speaking of Lord Franklyn, he has offered you a sizable reward for saving his beloved.”
“A reward? What am I to do with a reward?” Bowen sounded as if they’d offered him a week’s worth of stale bread.
Spence shrugged and grinned. “Perhaps it will make you more attractive to the ladies, having a fortune and all.”
“I already have a fortune.”
“Yes, but they don’t know that. Really, Bowen, you fail miserably at making yourself a viable prospect to the lovely ladies of the ton.”
Bowen gave him a steady stare, his only comment on the matter. Spence shook his head. He’d never met anyone as self-assured as Bowen. The man knew little of his parents who had died when he was too young to remember them. He’d spent his life being raised as Lord Ellesmere’s ward, treated as an equal but without the benefit of title or inheritance to elevate his status in society. The fortune he had accumulated by his own savvy business pursuits could help do this, yet he made no move to do so. For all intents and purposes, the man appeared appallingly content with his lot in life. It baffled the senses.
“You have yet to answer my question,” Bowen said. His voice had grown tired. “And make the explanation brief. I’m tired and want to sleep.”
“Well, my terribly lazy friend, as it turned out, Lady Caelie took very ill shortly after the Windswept set out to sea. You recall her, do you not? You and Nick arranged her passage on the ship without telling me.”
“We had no reason to tell you. You were not supposed to be on the ship.”
“Touché.”
“What of Lady Caelie then?” Concerned darkened Bowen’s gaze.
“Captain Moresley feared for her health and decided it best that she disembarked in Portsmouth.”
“And you took it upon yourself to see her and Lady Glenmor back to London?”
“You need not sound so surprised.” Spence scowled at his friend. “Of course I did. She is Nick’s cousin by marriage. How could I not? But, as it turned out, her dragon of a mother refused to disembark with her.”
“Lady Glenmor? You mean she—”
“Abandoned her. Yes. It was a despicable thing to do and I believe Lady Caelie is quite hurt by it, though she does not say so in so many words. She’s staying here for now. Glenmor is away on business.”
Bowen nodded. “I put him and Nick onto a business proposition I think will prove fruitful. Glenmor has traveled north to investigate and will report back to both of us. Does this mean…did the two of you travel alone?”
“No. Not exactly. Garron came with us.”
“Garron? Hardly a proper chaperone. Spence, if Nick finds out you—”
“Nick should be pleased I did not leave her stranded and alone in Portsmouth. I did my best to ensure we maintained propriety. I hired a lady’s maid once we reached the inn.” He did not mention they had been forced to share a room, or put on the ruse of being man and wife. Bowen could be a stickler about such things and he didn’t need him poking at the guilt he already felt over what had transpired between himself and Caelie.
Though granted, most of the guilt came from not feeling guilty enough.
“Now, I must find her a husband.”
“You appear thrilled at the prospect. Why don’t you marry her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Grandfather has made it clear he does not deem her acceptable. To make matters worse, he has threatened to cut me off completely if I do not marry someone of his choosing by Season’s end.”
“So you have no intention of marrying Lady Caelie?”
“No.” Why was it every time he thought or said that, it felt as if a stone had settled in his stomach? “She is perfectly lovely in every way you could imagine, an absolute gem. Any man would be lucky to have her, without doubt. But she deserves someone who can give her all the things she wants from marriage. I am not that man.”
“I see.” Bowen fell silent a moment, then, “Perhaps I am.”
Spence jerked upright in his chair. “W-what? You?”
“Certainly. Why not? You said so yourself, my fortune could make me most attractive to the ladies of the ton, of which she is one. She wishes to marry and I do as well.”
“Now? Right this instant? Why, you’re not even upright!”
“Details.” Bowen brushed his assessment aside. “And why not now? I have just had a brush with death. It has made me realize time is not something one should waste waiting for the perfect moment. Imagine that I might have died without having an heir to leave my fortune to?”
“You could leave it to me. At least then I will not be destitute when Grandfather disowns me.”
Bowen ignored his suggestion. “Yes, I think I will need to give this matter grave thought. Surely neither Nick nor Lord Glenmor would have an objection. I do not have a title but I have other things to recommend me.”
Spence leaned closer to his friend. “Are you jesting with me?”
“Perhaps.” Bowen grinned. “Then again, perhaps not. Although I do find it curious that the thought of my marrying Lady Caelie has you so riled. Would you like to explain that?”
“There is nothing to explain.” Spence averted his gaze and rubbed at a scuff on his boot. Or was it only the light casting shadow over it? Either way, worth investigation.
“Is there not?”
“No. Obviously your lazing about has left you addled in the head.”
“Perhaps. Now, I am tired. I`ve grown fond of this lazing about and think I shall do some more of it. Go back to your room. No need to watch over me.”
“Grandmother wants someone here at all times.”
“You can tell her I sent you away on the grounds your atrocious snoring kept me up.”
“I do not snore.”
“You snore like a foghorn. Now go. Wait until the morning to tell your grandparents. No point waking them in the middle of thenight.” Bowen closed his eyes.
Spence waited a moment until the steady rise and fall of Bowen’s chest indicated he had given in to his body’s need for rest. Then he took his friend up on his suggestion and left to find his own bed. P
erhaps he would finally sleep tonight, now that his friend was on the mend and he did not need to fear losing him to the Grim Reaper.
But each time he closed his eyes, he could not help but see Lady Caelie standing at the altar looking stunning in her wedding dress, summer flowers blooming all around her and Bowen standing next to her looking as proud as any man marrying her should.
“Damn you, Bowen,” he muttered, punching his pillow as he rolled over in an effort to escape the image.
But it followed him no matter which way he turned.
Had Bowen been serious? And what if he had been? Bowen was a far better man than any of the three Grandmama had come up with. In truth, Spence knew no one better and if anyone could make Caelie happy and give her the life she wanted, it would be his dear friend.
Why then, did the idea of them together leave him so horribly rankled?
“Argh!”
Spence shoved the blankets aside and stalked from his room in search of brandy.
* * *
“I am so pleased Mr. Bowen is doing better.” Lady Rebecca placed a hand over her heart and tension drained from her shoulders. It had been several days since Mr. Bowen had awakened and spoken to Spencer and the change in the household since then was significant. As if a dark cloud had dissipated and left only clear blue sky.
“Indeed.” The Dowager Countess of Blackbourne echoed her daughter’s thoughts. “And it is so good to hear you have returned to us safely as well, Lady Caelie.”
Caelie smiled. “Thank you, Lady Blackbourne. It is kind of you to say.” Even in her mourning dress of dove grey, the lady exuded elegance and beauty that age seemed disinclined to touch.
“How chivalrous of Lord Huntsleigh to ensure you arrived safely and with all due propriety as well.” Lady Rebecca smiled.
“I will be forever grateful to him.”
Lady Blackbourne inclined her head. “I will be certain to mention such on my other calls.” Gratitude flooded Caelie for their kindness and support.
“How very thoughtful of you,” Lady Ellesmere said. “We have sent a letter to Lord and Lady Blackbourne to inform them of Lady Caelie’s return and of Mr. Bowen’s improved health.”
“I expect my brother and Abigail will return with all due haste if they have not already begun their journey back to London.” The lavender in Lady Rebecca’s half-mourning dress caught the light and reflected the same silvery eyes she shared with her brother. The distinction between her light eyes and ivory skin against her inky black hair created a startling beauty. Caelie suspected only her required absence from society after her father’s passing had kept her from making a match last season.
“I am certain my son will have attempted to convince Abigail to stay behind, given her condition, but I suspect we can expect them both very soon.” Lady Blackbourne smiled at Caelie, the gesture conveying her high estimation of her new daughter-in-law. “Your cousin is not one to be dictated to.”
Caelie laughed at the compliment. It did her heart good to know Abigail had found such acceptance within the Sheridan family. She deserved it after all she had done to champion their own family in the wake of Father’s death. “Indeed, she is in possession of a strong will.”
Though it had only been a fortnight since she last saw her family, she missed them terribly. Abigail had been her closest confidante and strongest advocate. Something she needed desperately given her conflicting emotions over Spencer and the husband hunt they were about to embark on.
Then again, knowing Abigail, if she knew of Caelie’s attraction for Spencer, her counsel would likely be to throw caution and good judgment to the wind and act on her feelings. It’s what her cousin would have done. It’s what she did do in the end.
But she was not as brave or as bold as Abigail. Nor did she wish to have her heart broken by chasing someone who did not want her. And he didn’t. After their near kiss of a few nights ago, he had studiously avoided her. They met at dinner time when the family dined together and on the occasional passing in the hallway, where he always seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere else. Obviously, her original assessment had been correct. He had not come to her that night out of a sense of desire or attraction; he had merely needed someone to talk to, to get comfort from.
Felton, the old butler who had been in service to the Kingsleys for as long as anyone could remember, appeared in the door. “Lord and Lady Black—”
“No need to announce us, Felton,” the familiar voice of Lord Blackbourne preceded him into the room, cutting off Felton who looked out of sorts at the interruption.
Caelie jumped to her feet as her cousin pushed past her new husband and rushed toward her, arms out-stretched. “Caelie!”
Never one to stand on ceremony, Abigail released a small squeal of delight and wrapped her arms around Caelie. A small bump protruded from her cousin’s belly where the babe grew and a rush of love filled her. She would not miss out on the birth or seeing the little one grow after all.
Abigail pulled away and held Caelie’s shoulders in a firm grip. “I am so happy to see you well! Do not ever frighten me like that again. And where is Huntsleigh? I must give him a proper thanks for bringing you home to us.”
“I believe he is upstairs with Mr. Bowen.”
Nicholas dropped a quick kiss on the cheeks of the other ladies before Abigail stepped aside long enough to allow him to give Caelie a proper hug. “It is good to have you home, my dear. Abigail has been miserable since you left. I feared we would have to move to Italy ourselves just to improve her mood.”
“I am glad to have saved you the trip, Lord Blackbourne.”
“Lord Blackbourne,” he scoffed. “How many times must I tell you to call me Nicholas? We are among family and friends. No need to stand on ceremony.”
“Very well. I suppose with Mother no longer here to tell me otherwise, I can do just that, can’t I?”
“Indeed,” Abigail said. “Although I am sorry you had to suffer through such a horrible thing. Huntsleigh’s message of what happened reached us as we were leaving to come see Marcus. It was atrocious what she did, but I cannot attest to being sorry she is gone, only happy that you are home.”
Caelie smiled, though sadness pulled the corners of her mouth. “I am inclined to agree. It does not feel good to know Mother did not care enough to see to my well-being, but I am determined to see the bright side.”
“My lady,” Felton appeared at Lady Ellesmere’s elbow and held out a silver salver with an expensive ivory card set in the middle. The marchioness picked up the card and glanced at it, then lifted one eyebrow in a fashion reminiscent of her grandson, causing Caelie’s heart to leap in her chest.
She nodded at Felton then addressed the rest of them. “It appears the Duchess of Franklyn and her daughter are paying a call yet again.”
Lady Blackbourne’s expression mirrored her hostess’s. “Again? She is rather relentless, is she not? I have heard the duke wishes to reward Mr. Bowen for his brave acts.”
Lady Rebecca clasped her hands in front of her. “Mr. Bowen should accept the reward. It will enable him to make a better match. Especially if he capitalizes on the fervor once he is well enough. Why, all the ladies are sure to swoon with such a well-compensated hero in their midst.”
Felton’s booming voice announced the new guests as Lady Franklyn bustled into the room with her daughter trailing behind her. Like Lady Blackbourne, the duchess had not allowed the ravages of time to touch her. At five and thirty, she barely looked older than her daughter. Lady Susan, on the other hand, did not fare so well. She favored her father. Short, yet gangly, as if she could not decide what to do with her limbs. Where her mother’s hair shone a tawny gold, her’s had grown to a dull brown and her thick brow did nothing to enhance the color of her ordinary blue eyes.
Perhaps dissatisfaction with how this played out explained the constant scowl she wore on her face. To Caelie, she always seemed to look as if she had just caught a whiff of a rather bad smell.
Lady Franklyn stopped and surveyed the group. “My, my. We are quite crowded in here, are we not?”
Lady Blackbourne and Lady Rebecca stood. “We should be on our way. Lady Ellesmere, thank you for your hospitality and please wish Mr. Bowen our best wishes. As for you,” the Dowager Countess gave her son a quick peck on the cheek. “I expect to see you for dinner tonight so Abigail and I can make plans for my new grandbaby.”
“We shall be there,” Abigail said.
Lady Blackbourne inclined her head toward the duchess and gave a placid smile as she passed by.
“It was lovely to see you again, Lady Rebecca,” Lady Susan cooed.
Lady Rebecca fixed her silvery eyes on Lady Susan and Caelie felt the frigidity in her gaze from across the room. “Indeed.”
Caelie exchanged a look with Abigail, sensing there was much behind that brief exchange. No doubt her cousin would fill her in on all she’d missed in her brief absence.
Lady Franklyn extended her hands to her hostess. “My dear Lady Ellesmere, it is such wonderful news to hear of Mr. Bowen’s renewed health. May I be the first to—” The duchess stopped cold as Nick shifted his position and her gaze slipped past him to land on Caelie. For a brief second her mouth hung open and her eyes blinked. “Lady Caelie. I had not seen you hiding there.”
Caelie gave a brief curtsy. “I’m not sure what I was doing would qualify as hiding, Your Grace.”
Lady Franklyn glanced about the room. “And your mother?”
“My mother is traveling to Italy.”
Lady Ellesmere stepped in. “And as particular friends of the family, Lord Ellesmere and I are very pleased to have Lady Caelie stay with us for the Season.”
Lady Franklyn’s gaze flitted from the marchioness to Caelie as if she could not decide which tidbit of information proved more difficult to absorb. “To Italy? And you did not go with her?”
“I did make the attempt, however it appears I am not made for such travel. I became rather seasick and decided it better to leave Mother to continue on her journey while I returned to London.”
“I see.” Yet her suspicious tone indicated she did not see at all. “How…fortunate Lord and Lady Ellesmere agreed to take you in. I had not realized you were so well acquainted.”
