* * *
After the initial tumult of Cassie’s arrest and the necessity of sorting out her fabrications from the truth, Lina slept off the lingering effects of the laudanum, not waking until dawn. She came downstairs to find both Win and Dr. Strickland still present, drinking strong coffee and talking in low voices.
After a hasty breakfast, she sat with the poor doctor on the sofa, listening to his shocked reflections while Win gave instructions to Jem on the other side of the room.
“I knew she was impetuous,” Dr. Strickland said, sitting forward, head bowed, elbows on his knees, “and even a bit capricious, but I put that down to youth. I trusted that, in time, she would settle down and come to be more like you, Lady Radbourne.” He shook his head. “I was never more deceived in anyone.”
Even in her own shock, Lina felt sorry for him. He’d truly cared for Cassie. “None of us had any inkling what was in her mind. I never suspected, and she’s my sister. When I think how last night might have ended...”
Her eyes strayed from the downcast doctor to where Win, tall and straight, stood conferring with the footman. Thank God for Win. If he hadn’t come rushing to the dower house as soon as he’d realized the truth, Cassandra would have succeeded in her plan. He’d been up all night, seeing to the confused servants, sending for Mr. Channing, arranging a guard to keep watch over Cassie and even lending poor Dr. Strickland a sympathetic ear. And he’d done it all despite their bitter quarrel.
Before Lina had gone to bed, Dr. Strickland had bandaged Win’s bleeding arm. “I’m ashamed now for having doubted you,” the downcast doctor had told him. “I’ve been a fool.”
“You were endeavoring to protect Lady Radbourne,” Win had answered. “I would’ve doubted you in similar circumstances—I did doubt you, in fact, given your knowledge of poisons.”
“I hope that means there are no hard feelings.”
“I think it means you and I are equally poor judges of character, but no, there are no hard feelings.”
The doctor had given a weak laugh. For two men who’d once mistrusted each other, they appeared to be forging a friendship.
With the doctor’s help, Win had managed to convince Mr. Channing that Cassie belonged not at the end of a hangman’s rope but in a private asylum. Now she was locked in her bedroom upstairs, Daniel keeping guard, where she would remain until Win and Dr. Strickland could make lasting arrangements. Lina still found it hard to believe that Cassie had committed such merciless crimes, and that she’d shown so little remorse now that her guilt had come to light. She couldn’t help feeling she should have known something was wrong with Cassie’s sense of right and wrong.
Dr. Strickland rose to pour himself more coffee, and Lina caught Win’s eye.
He dismissed Jem with a nod to come and join her on the sofa. “Are you sure you’re all right this morning?”
It had to be the tenth time he’d asked her that. What a fine officer he must have made, always looking out for those in his charge.
“Yes, though I should be asking you that question, really. You’re the one with the injured arm, and you’ve been up all night.” How could she ever thank him enough for the way he’d come racing to her rescue?
“I’m fine, and you’ve been through a good deal more than I have. I never want to relive those moments when I thought Freddie might be responsible, and you’ve had to face that and more with your sister. Not only that, but you’re in a delicate condition.”
“It’s been a shock, and I’m not sure the reality has completely sunk in, but at least now I’m safe. I can’t help thinking it’s my fault, though, that Cassie was able to commit such desperate acts. If I’d realized sooner that something was wrong with her, Mr. Niven might still be alive.”
“I don’t see how you could have known. She went to great lengths to hide her true thoughts and feelings.”
She sighed. “So it was Cassie that Mr. Niven pointed to in the doorway before he died. She was standing right beside me, but when she said he was pointing at me, I never thought to question it.”
Win’s brow wrinkled. “There’s only one point I haven’t figured out. This all began on the day we met, when someone forced open the front door here. I assume that was also your sister’s work, but how did a young lady as small and slight as she is manage it?”
Lina had nearly forgotten about the damaged door. “Oh!” she exclaimed as the answer dawned on her. “The crowbar!”
“What?”
“Mr. Battersby and his apprentice found a crowbar tucked in the wall behind the wainscoting. I supposed it must have been there for years, but now it occurs to me that Cassie must have used it to force open the door, and then hidden it behind the woodwork. She had to make it look as if someone else had been inside the house, so no one would suspect her of putting the pennyroyal tea in the caddy.”
“Ah, that’s what happened to Joe Ibbetson’s crowbar,” Win mused. When she gave him a questioning look, he said, “The abbey handyman thought Freddie had taken it.”
Though he’d apparently sent to the abbey for a change of clothes, Win had spent the night sorting out matters at the dower house and hadn’t yet shaved. Between the dark stubble, the sling and the bandage on his arm, he should have looked sadly the worse for wear, but instead he looked dashing and romantic and faintly piratical. She felt stronger, just being with him. How would she ever bear up when he went back to Hampshire?
He stood and held out his hand to her. “Come for a walk with me.”
“Outside?” she said in surprise. “But the weather—”
“Look out the window. The sleet turned to snow just before dawn.”
She glanced to the drawing room windows. Sure enough, snowflakes were floating past the frozen panes, drifting softly to the ground.
She rose and went with him, pausing to collect her cloak on the way out.
Outside, the air was pure and cold, clearing her head of any last vestiges of laudanum. The gently falling snow gave the woods a hushed quality, as if all of nature was holding its breath. Win took her hand in his, and they strolled up the path leading to the abbey.
Only a few weeks ago, she hadn’t known Win Vaughan was alive. Now, she dreaded his leave-taking. Was there anything she could say to convince him to stay? What if she told him she was willing to be his mistress—was there a chance she could change his mind?
He peered up into the snowy air as they walked. “I wish I’d remembered my hat when I left the abbey last night.”
She glanced across at him, handsome and carrying himself with the military bearing that had so impressed Mrs. Phelps. “I see where Julia gets her preoccupation with fashion.”
He chuckled and drew her to a stop. “I’ve been accused of a good many things, but that’s the first time anyone ever suggested I might be a dandy.” He gazed down at her, and his smiling expression faded to a look of earnestness. “Do you know, when your sister fired that pistol last night, only one regret flashed through my head—don’t tell me this is the end, and I never told Lina I love her.”
He loves me... She gulped. “Does that mean you’re willing to stay?”
“Oh, I’m definitely staying.” He set her hand over his heart. “I can’t promise you what the future will bring. I made that mistake before and lived to regret it. You could be looking at the next Earl of Radbourne, or just a provincial gentleman who fails at everything he does. But if you’re willing to put your faith in me, I’ll do my best to deserve it.”
Despite the joy whirling inside her, she took his face in her hands and gave him a severe look. “How can you say you fail at everything you do?”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t angling for compliments, just giving you fair warning.”
“And I’m telling you you’re wrong. You have a brother who looks up to you and a daughter who adores you. You no sooner came to Belryth
than you discovered an embezzlement scheme Edward likely would’ve allowed to continue for years. You’ve set to rights all the problems at the dower house as if they were the veriest nothing. And you saved my life—twice.” She smiled up at him. “Even one-handed, you’re still better at everything than any other man I know, and I do mean everything.”
He gathered her close, the heat of his body warming her even through her cloak, and captured her mouth with his. The snow swirled around them, its light touch wet on her cheeks and in her lashes. She slipped her hands inside his coat, sliding them over the smooth silk of his waistcoat. She loved the feel of his muscles beneath his clothes, his broad back tapering to lean hips, loved the hardness and strength of him.
When they broke off the kiss, she leaned against him, her forehead on his shoulder. “You told me once that you wanted me to trust you so completely, I lost the fear of being hurt. I realized last night I’m not afraid of being hurt any more. I’m only afraid of your being hurt.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think you need worry on that score. After the French bayonet, the speeding mail coach and the pistol shot at close range, I’m beginning to believe myself indestructible.” He kissed the top of her head. “Even so, life is too short to let foolish pride get in the way of the best thing that ever happened to me. How would you feel about marrying a man who may or may not be poor?”
She closed her eyes and savored the moment, everything from the gently falling snow to the safe, protected feeling of being in his arms. “I believe the marriage vows do specify ‘for richer, for poorer.’”
“Ah, that covers all contingencies. In the interests of fair play, I should caution you that you’ll become an instant mother to my daughter, as well as sister-in-law to an eccentric nineteen-year-old who considers pigeons the pinnacle of God’s creation.”
“My sister killed Mr. Niven and wanted both of us dead, and you really feel it necessary to caution me because Freddie likes pigeons?”
“Does that mean you’ll marry me?”
She went up on her tiptoes, her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips to his in a heartfelt kiss, pouring all the love and trust and need she felt for him into their embrace. It was several long seconds before she drew back to meet his eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you. Didn’t I propose to you only a short while ago?”
“I had the impression that was more about economic practicality than about passion.”
“No, that was my first marriage.” She searched his face with a look of dawning disbelief. “Are you serious? Did you really think I wanted to marry you for practical reasons?”
“Well, you did mention becoming Julia’s governess, and our both living at the abbey...”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. You mean it wasn’t obvious I’m mad about you? Only minutes before I’d been begging you not to hold back in your—er, amorous attentions.”
“That was your idea of begging?” He cupped her cheek in his palm and smiled. “You clearly don’t know what real begging sounds like, at least when it comes to amorous attentions.”
She laughed. “If you teach me, will I be the one doing the begging, or will you?”
He nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing the curve of her shoulder, his breath warm on her skin. “Ideally, a little of both.” He whispered hoarsely against her ear, “I want so much to make love to you right now. But I want to do it properly, indoors, in a comfortable bed, where I can explore every inch of you, slowly and thoroughly.”
She set her hands on his shoulders, steadying herself against a dizzying combination of happiness and desire. “How soon can we be married?”
He lifted his head, a faint, thoughtful frown on his lips. “I’d like to marry you tomorrow. We could marry as soon as I can ride to York and obtain a license.” He gave her a wistful look. “But I think we should wait, and marry after your baby is born.”
“But I thought—”
He held up his hand in a staying gesture. “Hear me out, please. It doesn’t matter one whit to me whether your baby is a boy or a girl, at least not when it comes to marrying you. This isn’t about the inheritance. But if we marry now, before you’re even showing, small-minded scandalmongers like Sir John may claim you were never carrying Radbourne’s child at all, and while legally none of that could prevent your son from inheriting, I wouldn’t want you or your child dogged by that kind of gossip.” He scratched just behind his ear. “And there’s also the matter of your recent bereavement.”
“I hate to admit it, but you’re right.” A little of her old caution tempering her eagerness, she looked down. “As much as I love you, it would appear disrespectful to Edward’s memory to marry so soon after his death.”
Win sighed. “I was rather hoping you’d talk me out of waiting. Sometimes doing the right thing can be damned hard.”
She brightened, lifting her eyes to his. “What if we were to marry at the beginning of June? Edward will have been dead six months by then. I should be showing, with my lying-in less than three months off. And if we wait until after the baby is born, those same small-minded scandalmongers may suppose that whichever one of us ends up disadvantaged is only marrying for the fortune. I wouldn’t want you dogged by that kind of gossip.”
“Four more months...” He nodded and broke into one of his brilliant smiles, dimples and all. “My arm will be mended by then too. It won’t be easy, but if your late husband could wait three years to marry you, I suppose I can last four months.”
“Then again, June does seem a long way off.” Pressing herself against him, she drew his head down for another kiss. “We don’t have to wait for everything...”
Chapter Twenty-Two
For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds,
And though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
—William Congreve
What worried Lina wasn’t the experience itself, but that Win looked so anxious. She wasn’t used to seeing Win appear anxious about anything. Even in the worst crisis, he usually showed little sign of concern beyond squaring his shoulders and assuming a determined expression.
But Dr. Strickland had allowed him to look in several times during the day, and despite Win’s smiling at her and trying to appear nonchalant, the worried look in his eyes had been impossible to miss.
While she’d still had the energy, she’d urged him to go downstairs and have a drink. “It could be hours and hours yet.”
He’d only shaken his head. “No, I’m not going to drink myself into a fog. I can take it if you can.”
She’d given a halfhearted laugh at his seriousness—after all, she had no choice but to take it, and no one would blame an expectant stepfather for having a drink or two to calm his nerves, even if there weren’t a title and fortune riding on the new arrival. What could he do at such a time, even if things did go wrong? Still, he’d looked so tense and so worried, she truly believed he would’ve traded places with her if he could have.
The last time he was allowed up, the sun was already setting and she was much more uncomfortable. She hoped it didn’t show, but certainly Win looked rather pale himself, regarding her from the doorway. He had to be thinking about his first wife, and how she’d died in childbirth.
“It will all turn out fine,” Lina assured him.
“Of course it will.” He spoke with a bluff confidence she could tell he didn’t really feel. “After what we’ve already been through, I’m convinced you have nine lives.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She summoned a smile. “By my count, I should have at least five more to go.”
* * *
“Colonel Vaughan?” said Dr. Strickland, coming slowly down the stairs.
Win, standing in the hall with his hands balled into fists, looked up nervously. “Yes?”
The doctor smiled. “That’s the last time anyone will call you by your military
rank. From now on, it’s ‘my lord.’ She’s had a girl—a fine, healthy daughter. Congratulations.”
“Oh, thank God.” Win was so relieved, he thought his legs might actually give out under him. “For the healthy part, I mean. At this point, I’ve never cared less about the title. And my wife...?” he said, quickly mastering the impulse to fall down on his knees in thanksgiving. “You wouldn’t be grinning that way if she weren’t also well, I trust?”
“She came through it with flying colors.” Dr. Strickland observed his reaction with a tolerant smile. The doctor had been in the habit of calling regularly at the abbey, at least up until the wedding. He’d come a bit less often in recent weeks, though he’d remained interested in news of Cassandra Douglass. While he appeared to have accepted that Lina’s sister would always require careful supervision, it hadn’t stopped him from asking about her.
“How soon can I see her?”
“You’re welcome to go up now, if you like. I’m sure Lady Rad—”
Before Dr. Strickland could finish, Win had charged past him and was bolting up the stairs, taking two at a time.
He made a beeline for their bedroom. Another little girl—a sister for Julia—and Lina was well. Those were the only things that mattered at the moment, though he supposed in time it would sink in that he’d become the Earl of Radbourne and the undisputed owner of Belryth Abbey too. But for now—for now, he had no words for it, he was so wildly happy and relieved.
He threw open the door and stopped suddenly in the doorway, drinking in the sight of Lina.
Beautiful. She was beautiful. And so was her baby—their baby, as far as he was concerned—a tiny, swaddled, red-faced thing Lina was holding tenderly in the crook of one arm. The baby looked too small to be an actual human being, though he was sure Julia must once have been that size.
Lina looked up and beamed at him, her eyes shining. “Come and see her, Win. Haven’t I done some marvelous work?”
He meant to tell her how proud he felt, looking at them. Instead he merely nodded mutely, swallowing down the lump in his throat.
An Heir of Uncertainty Page 28
