His expression warmed in a way that made Aurora slightly uncomfortable when he leveled his eyes on her. “I only wish you would give my family more time to raise the funds necessary to buy back our ancestral home, Countess.”
Everything he said was polite and formal, but something in the way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine. “Your cousin assured me that he was quite content with my plans, and as Mercy indicated, has partnered with me on this project. I have, of course, offered Wesley the opportunity to remove the family portraits if he wishes.” She pointed to the couple above the mantel.
“That is very kind, Countess, but this house is important to the Castlewick title.” Anger flashed in Malcolm’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly, she thought she must have imagined it.
“I have been over this a dozen times with you, Mal. I have made my decision and have better use of the revenues from my estates than to buy this old place. It’s too big to be anything but a burden if used as it was in the past. Unless you have the funds on hand, I suggest you leave this matter alone.” Wesley drew a long breath and calmed as he sat next to his wife and took her hand.
Malcolm stood. “I’m sorry to have imposed. I will go to the inn in the village and return tomorrow to discuss the matter with you, Wes. Perhaps you will be in a better humor for listening after you’ve rested.”
“Don’t speak to me as if I’m some doddering old fool. I’m two years older than you and the head of this family.”
Aurora looked at Wesley hoping he would give her some clue as to how much hospitality to show his cousin. She watched as he shook his head, looked resigned then nodded to her.
Maybe he worried that his cousin would go right back to cavorting with his sisters. Aurora hated to think of this rakishly handsome and roguish man being within ten paces of those sweet girls.
“Mr. Renshaw, may I offer you a room here? I’m sure you would enjoy staying in a house so dear to you, and it might be that we will convince you of the merits of the Castlewick School.”
A wide grin spread across his face, and he bowed his head. “You are too kind, my lady. I look forward to hearing all of those merits from your sweet lips.”
Oh dear. Aurora could see she’d have to keep her eyes open and her hat pin at the ready with Malcolm Renshaw in the house. He might be a danger to more than just Wesley’s sixteen-year-old sisters. “Bickford, will you show Mr. Renshaw to a guest room?”
The butler stepped forward. “Follow me please, sir.”
No one spoke for a long moment. Garrett seemed to have stopped breathing at some point during Malcolm’s visit, and Aurora looked at him with concern for his health. “Garrett?”
Instead of replying to Aurora, Garrett turned to Wesley. “I think your cousin intends to court Aurora in an attempt to regain this house for your family. I can see you didn’t know of his plan, but do you think him capable of ungentlemanly behavior?”
“Yes,” Mercy said, before Wesley could respond.
“Mercy is right. Unfortunately, Mal will go beyond fair play to get what he wants.” Wesley covered Mercy’s hand with his.
“We shall have to keep a close eye on him.” Garrett’s knuckles were white from fisting his hands.
“I am not fond of being spoken about as if I were not in the room. Besides, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Aurora hadn’t liked the look in Malcolm’s eyes any better than they did, but she’d not be caged in her own home. “However, I shall be sure to keep my hat pin handy.”
Mercy and Poppy nodded soberly.
“Hat pin?” Helen asked.
Poppy slid a large emerald from her coiffure, but only enough to show the long metal pin before she slipped it back in place. “The Wallflowers of West Lane have made a habit of keeping a sharpened hat pin within reach at all social events in case a man becomes too amorous and help is not available.”
Hoping it wouldn’t come to that, Aurora got up to pour more wine since Bickford was occupied and the footman had disappeared after dinner.
Helen said, “How intriguing you ladies are. This is turning out to be quite a visit to the new Castlewick School for Girls.”
Indeed, it was.
Chapter 8
Hours later, Aurora lay in her bed staring at the darkness. The new moon gave her no light as she got up and looked at the sky. At least the stars hadn’t abandoned her.
After everything that had transpired, it was Garrett who haunted her thoughts and denied her sleep. It would have been more sensible to be worried over Mr. Renshaw’s arrival, and all his bluster, or her mother’s imminent visit. But Malcolm Renshaw didn’t bother her, and her mother could be handled. She could bolt her door and carry her weapons. There were enough people in the house to keep her safe.
She had been unfair to someone she cared about. She’d not allowed Garrett to unburden himself. Garrett’s secret kept her from her dreams.
Determined to make it right, she gave up on sleep, pulled on her robe and slid into her slippers. As she stepped into the hall, the house was quiet. Really, it was so large one could get lost with little trouble. Perhaps she could avoid her mother during her impromptu stay. She chided herself and let the notion go.
She walked past the wide landing overlooking the entry hall. The grand door loomed, but no one stood sentinel or wandered the halls. At Garrett’s door, Aurora stopped.
It was foolish to wake him, yet she knocked softly. If he didn’t wake, she would return to her own room and forget her stupidity.
Within a few seconds, the door swung open, revealing Garrett in his breeches, his blouse hanging loose around his hips. Without a cravat, a smattering of dark hair peeked from his open collar. His eyes widened at the sight of her. He stuck his head out the door and looked down the hall in both directions before pulling her inside. “Rora, are you alright?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. “I was unkind to you. You whom I should never be unkind to. You may tell me anything, Garrett. I am your friend, and I want to know whatever you wish to tell me.”
He hung his head for a moment and scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “With Renshaw in the house, I feared you’d been harmed. Come and sit.”
“Mr. Renshaw is nothing to me. I’m certain his aims are not my virtue, which is nothing worth guarding.”
His wardrobe stood open with his clothes for the next day already hanging in wait. On the dressing table lay his razor, cologne, and other masculine items. His bed linens were pulled back but not slept in. The candles were still lit, and a book lay on the small table near his chair.
What had she been thinking to come to a man’s room in the middle of the night? Fear rushed in like an ocean wave and she was powerless to stop it. “I shouldn’t be in a here.”
“Everyone is abed at this hour. The servants have all gone to sleep. Only you and I shall ever know you were here.” He cocked his head, gazing at her with openness and trust. “Or is it me you are afraid of?”
Thinking about it, she realized she wasn’t afraid of Garrett. Her fear stemmed from a man long dead and unable to hurt her. Even after so long, Bertram Sherbourn left his mark. Perhaps it was worse to harbor marks that couldn’t be seen with the eye. At least the bruises and cuts had healed. The deeper wounds still festered. “You would never harm me.”
He took one of her hands and rubbed her fingers. The touch was gentle and warm. He always knew how to comfort her. “No. I will never hurt you in any way, Rora. Why don’t you tell me why you reacted the way you did at dinner?”
Unsure how to answer, Aurora reclaimed her hand and worried the lace at the edge of her robe. The bedroom furnishings were as elaborate as the rest of the house. Dark wood and mint green upholstery gave the room elegance. If it weren’t so enormous, Aurora would quite like Whickette Park. “I’m not certain. Perhaps there has always been safety in secrets for me. Once you tell me yours, I fear my protection will be lost.”
“You need no protection from me. However, if you truly want me to stay silent, I wi
ll comply.” His voice dropped, as did his gaze. Sorrow hazed around him.
It broke Aurora’s heart. “Tell me, Garrett. Whatever it is, we shall deal with it together. We are friends.”
Garrett stood, walked to the dark hearth and stared into the grate. He touched a small porcelain lamb standing on the mantel, adjusted it to the left then straightened his shoulders and looked at her. “And we shall always be friends, Rora. It is only that my feelings are more than those of a family or childhood friend, and I have come to the point where I can’t push them aside any longer.”
Her heart leapt into her throat and her pulse pounded. The room tipped slightly before righting itself. Aurora gripped the arm of the chair. “I don’t understand.”
A sad smile and solemn eyes were her punishment for the lie. “I think you probably do. But, so there are no misinterpretations or mistakes, I will speak plainly. I admire and love you, Rora. I have since before you went away to school. We were both too young then, and my feelings likely infatuation. But since, my feelings have not changed, only grown stronger.”
“But you haven’t even been in England for much of the last four years.” Frozen in place, she looked for anything that could dispel his declaration.
Garrett knelt before her. “I left England because you were engaged to another man. Selfishly, I couldn’t bear to see you married to another.”
A wave of dizziness washed over her, and when it passed, she pushed aside his hands on her lap and stood, forcing him to rise and step back. Struggling to breathe, she pressed her hand to her chest. “I cannot. You are my friend. We are friends.” She strode to the window, but the darkness gave no comfort. In a rush to the door, she stopped only when Garrett’s hand touched her shoulder. He didn’t keep her from leaving by force, only by need. His hand was gentle and comforting, never aggressive. His knuckles were scraped and scabbed over.
“Do not run from me, Rora. I will not harm you.” Desperation rang in his voice.
Memories that had nothing to do with Garrett kept her still. But her husband was dead and Garrett would never harm her. She turned toward him. “You have harmed me. You have harmed us. This is not what I want.”
He backed up a step, his hands in fists, the scrapes red and angry on the right one. “No. I am aware of that. You have decided that all men are worthless because Radcliff was a monster. You lump me in the same category as a man I would kill for what he did if he were alive to kill. Despite my love for you, in your eyes I am an animal just like Radcliff.”
The venom in what he said brought her out of her panicked haze. Her instinct to flee broke. “You are nothing like him.” Reaching forward, she took his hand and traced the rough skin at the scrape. Had he done this to himself after they talked? She thought so. His hand had been uninjured when they sat by the walnut trees. “But that doesn’t mean I can change the damage that has been done. I will never marry again, Garrett. I will never allow myself to be a man’s property again.”
“You are determined to never know love then?” He kissed her fingers.
“The capacity to love the way you describe is lost to me. I cannot.” A tear rolled down her cheek.
With the gentlest touch, he thumbed the tear away. “You love the Wallflowers, their spouses, your brother and many more. I think you even love me, though perhaps I flatter myself.” His grin slipped.
“That is not the same kind of love.” A steady stream of tears she could no longer control streaked down her face faster than she could dash them away.
He stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. She felt safe in his embrace. His lips pressed to her hair. It was warm and enveloping, as if nothing bad could ever touch her. “Love is love, Rora. We may express it differently when it is romantic love, but if you can feel it for your friends, you can feel it for a man. I am sorry that I am not that man.” Dropping his arms to his sides, he added. “I am and will always be your friend. You may call on me at any time or visit me in the middle of the night when the notion strikes you. You will always be safe regardless of my desires.”
His jaw relaxed and one side of his mouth lifted as he brushed her hair behind her ear.
“I wish you had declared yourself before I went away to school. Perhaps then, things... life might have been different.” Regret flooded her, both for his delay in declaring himself and in the loss of his embrace. What might her world have been like had she married Garrett rather than Radcliff?
“I was just out of school, and you were only fifteen. I thought there would be time.” He drew a sharp breath.
She didn’t know when she had ever been so sad. A deep mourning for what had been lost overwhelmed her. “Time,” she whispered.
He kissed her cheek the way her brother might. It was chaste and sweet and left a yawning hole in her soul.
“Go to bed, Rora. We will speak in the morning if you wish. Hopefully your mother’s arrival will wait until tea.”
Almost having forgotten, she groaned. “Mother. I don’t know what she’s up to, but it can only add to whatever madness Mr. Renshaw intends. Good night, Garrett. I truly am sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He opened his door, looked into the hall to assure it was empty then stepped aside, and she walked down the hall to her own room.
In her room, she sank into the bed and cried. Loved her. Garrett loved her. She knew he was fond of her and thought he deemed her like a sister. But the look in his eyes tonight was not sisterly. When she thought back to other occasions, he’d not been altogether brotherly, yet she’d always been safe in his company. Remembering her wayward thoughts about taking a lover when they danced at Faith’s ball, she shivered. The idea wasn’t entirely horrifying.
Perhaps just to be held. But to ask a virile man to hold her and nothing more was madness, even if it was Garrett. Yet, he’d held her briefly in his room, and she’d been in no danger. In fact, his arms had been a balm to her tattered nerves.
She must be losing her mind to even entertain such a thought. Still, when his lips pressed to her cheek, it had been sweet and kind. When she was wrapped in his arms, she’d had a sense of comfort. And if she were honest, she longed to be in his arms again. Allowing fear to rule her was no way to live even if love were not possible.
If she’d been asked even a month ago if she could ever find comfort in the arms of a man, she’d have scoffed at the notion. Yet, as she lay awake, she missed the feel of Garrett holding her.
Of course, it was irrelevant. She’d never marry. She’d never give up the little she’d gained in her marriage. She owned Whickette Park, and since Wesley could not buy it back for his family, she would do with it what her heart desired. No husband would allow such an extravagance. She had the house on West Lane and an annuity that kept her quite comfortable.
She didn’t need anything from anyone, and that suited her quite well. Mother’s arrival would be a good distraction. Between her and the school preparations, she could avoid anything else. However, if she didn’t sleep, her mother would rail about the dark rings under her eyes.
Closing her eyes, Aurora decided to keep her head, ignore any unpleasantness, and deal with whatever her mother had connived. It was only a matter of discovering agendas. Now she knew Garrett’s, and it was not anything to be dealt with. She wouldn’t love a man, no matter how much she liked him, and he deserved to be loved and adored by his wife. Her mother likely had divined another marital candidate, whom she wished to talk to Aurora about, and that could be pushed aside. Wesley would discover what his cousin was up to and deal with him. Her own plans were all that mattered, and no one was going to change her path.
As her mind drifted, she thought perhaps when they returned to London, she would help Garrett find himself a proper wife.
Aurora’s eyes sprang open. Of all the young ladies who were available for marriage, she couldn’t think of a single one who was good enough to be Garrett’s duchess.
Frustrated, she closed her eyes and begged for sleep.
Chapter 9
Garrett took a horse at first light and rode hard into the countryside. The day before had been one of the hardest days of his life. Learning what Aurora had endured while he wasted his time traveling the world had stirred rage inside him that he’d never known existed. She’d not pressed him for information about his damaged fist, for which he was grateful.
He hadn’t know what to do with all the rage that grew inside him for not being there to save her. It had not been his place to come to her rescue, but remembering his lackadaisical romping around the continent nauseated him. All the while, she’d been in a private hell. He’d been the worst of friends.
He should have known or suspected, but how could he know? Her own brother had no idea, and he’d been in England the entire time.
When she’d appeared at his door in the middle of the night, all his fury had fled, and he’d been left with the wonder of being alone with her.
Despite the fact that she had rejected even the idea of their courting, he’d loved having her near and to himself. The scent of her so warm and fresh like wildflowers and honey. He could live on that alone for his lifetime.
He pulled the sorrel mare back, and they walked lazily down the lane toward the town of Plumbly. The weather was very fine, and many people were already rushing around the streets. Several were staring at a sign on the doors of a large hall. Garrett rode up to see what the fuss was about.
After dismounting, he tied the mare and walked to the doors. “An assembly,” he read out loud.
“Yes, sir.” A man of perhaps thirty with a strong chin and a coat that had seen many seasons gave him a nod and a smile. His teeth were crooked, but he had an affable manner.
“What is the occasion?” Garrett asked.
“We had a storm last Friday and had to cancel the regular monthly assembly. Tomorrow will be a fine time.” He offered his hand. “I’m Grady Kinsmith. Are you staying up at the Park with her ladyship?”
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