She tried to conjure his image, but it was impossible. Instead all she could see was Drew’s darkly brooding countenance. But that was understandable, thought Elyse. It did not mean that she loved William any less, only that she was concerned for Drew. She wished that he and his father would make up their differences. Slowly she began to pack the letters away. Drew had said to her that she could not mend everything, but she could at least try.
* * *
Elyse found Sir Edward in the little parlour, his chair pulled close to the dying fire and a decanter and wineglass on a small table at his elbow. He glanced up as she entered and pushed himself out of his chair.
‘Miss Salforde. Is anything amiss?’
‘No, sir, I came to speak with you.’
He waved her to the chair on the opposite side of the fire.
‘What is it you wish to say to me?’
‘It concerns Andrew. Please, hear me out.’ She put up her hand as he made to rise from his chair again. ‘Do you know anything of his life these past ten years?’
‘No.’ He sank back, frowning. ‘And I do not want to know.’
‘He was very young when he left Hartcombe, sir.’
‘He made his choice. He must take the consequences.’
‘And he has done so. After he fled to France he had no money, no friends, so he became a mercenary, fighting for foreign armies. Then he met my father and they made their money at the gaming tables of Europe.’
‘Hah!’ His white brows snapped together. ‘Scoundrels, then, the pair of ’em.’
She shrugged. ‘Quite possibly, but Andrew assures me they won by fair means, and took care not to ruin anyone.’
‘You may believe that if you like, madam, although I take leave to doubt it. Yet it does not alter the fact that he was a traitor to his country.’
‘He was a boy, young and impressionable, who was caught up in events beyond his understanding.’
‘Did he send you to me to plead his cause?’
‘He does not know I am here, Sir Edward. He thinks you can never be reconciled.’
‘And he is right.’
She smiled. ‘If that were so, why did you take him in and allow Mrs Parfitt to nurse him?’
‘Any Christian would do as much.’
‘Would they? I think it was more the action of a man who still cares for his son.’
He glared at her. ‘You would be advised to keep out of what does not concern you.’
‘But it does concern me, Sir Edward. My father made Drew my guardian, because he knew him to be a true and honest friend. And so he has proved himself to be. He has risked arrest to come to England and take me to Lord Whittlewood. He was wounded protecting me from highway robbers. It is only right that I should try in return to help him. We have one more day here, then he plans to leave Hartcombe and never return. I would beg you to make your peace with him.’
‘Never.’
‘Sir Edward—’
‘No!’ He swung around in his chair, turning away from her. ‘If that is all you have to say then you had best leave, madam, for I shall not change my mind. Go. Go, damn you!’
Elyse rose.
‘I know Drew to be an honourable man, Sir Edward. You should be proud to have such a son. It would mean a great deal to him if you could acknowledge him.’ When he did not speak she continued quietly, ‘My father was a restless man who travelled Europe, living on his wits. When he died he left me with money, but very few memories of him. He provided handsomely for me and my mother, while she was alive, but he rarely visited us. My biggest regret is that I never really knew my father. You have a chance to make peace with Andrew, I beg that you do so, sir, and make the most of the time you have left together.’ She walked to the door, where she turned, speaking to his rigid, unmoving back. ‘I pray you, sir, do not leave it too late.’
* * *
Drew’s bedroom candle guttered and he threw aside his book. He should be asleep, but he was too restless. He eased himself off the bed and fetched a fresh candle, lighting it from the stub of the old one before pushing it into the candlestick. His thoughts turned constantly to Elyse Salforde. He wanted her, he could not deny it. She bewitched him and not just with her beauty. She had the power to soothe away his anger. Walking with her in the gardens, having her beside him, had eased the pain of the memories he had recounted, memories he had shared with no one, not even Harry. And she was not indifferent to him, he would swear it, but that made it even more important that he did nothing to hurt her.
He could offer her nothing save a tainted name and a life of constant wanderings. He could not even claim any burning zeal to return the Stuarts to the throne. He had followed his uncle into battle in a spirit of youthful adventure but he had never been truly wedded to the Stuart cause, which made his actions all the more disreputable. He had dragged his family through so much for nothing more than a youthful indiscretion. He turned restlessly in his bed. He could do nothing about the past, but he could discharge his promise to Harry honourably. He would make sure Elyse reached her future husband safely.
The thought of the marriage contract made him frown. It was watertight, he knew that, and biased heavily in Elyse’s favour. He would ensure the terms had not been changed before he relinquished his guardianship. Harry had done his best to ensure his only daughter’s happiness, but even with a measure of independence she would still be wed to William Reverson and would that really make her happy? Drew pondered the question and was surprised to realise just how much Elyse’s happiness meant to him.
A gentle scratching at the door caught his attention.
‘Stinchcombe! What are you doing here?’
His father’s valet stood in the doorway, a pile of white linen in his hands.
‘Sir Edward thought you might need your dressing changed, sir.’
‘But it’s near midnight.’ Drew swung himself off the bed. ‘Well, now you are here you had best come in. It will save you doing it in the morning.’
The valet waited patiently while Drew stripped off his shirt then got to work removing the old dressing.
‘Sir Edward is not sleeping well, Master Andrew.’
‘Well, what of it?’
Drew tensed as the bandage came away, but there was very little pain. The wound was clean and healing well.
‘If you wrap it lightly I will be able to wear my coat tomorrow,’ he told the valet.
‘Yes sir.’ A fresh dressing was wound around the arm. ‘But if I might suggest, Master Andrew...’
‘Well?’
‘Sir Edward is not abed yet. When I left him he was pacing up and down his room.’
Drew gave a bark of hollow laughter. ‘He would hardly thank me for disturbing him then.’
Stinchcombe stood back, surveying his handiwork.
‘That’s the point, sir. I think he would like to see you.’
Drew frowned.
‘He would?’
Stinchcombe reached out and tidied away a loose end, never meeting Drew’s eyes.
‘I think he would, Master Andrew. I think something’s troubling him.’
Drew put his shirt back on and allowed the servant to re-tie his sling before he dismissed him. He scowled. He was damned if he’d go to the old man. It could only result in another roasting. There was too much bad blood between them. Too much that could not be forgiven. He prowled about the room, picked up his book and climbed back on to the bed, but the words swam before his eyes and made no sense.
‘Hell and confound it.’
Stinchcombe would not have come to him if he had not been seriously worried about his master. Drew swung himself off the bed again, pushed his feet into his boots and went out.
A thin line of light shone beneath Sir Edward’s door. Drew knocked and received a curt i
nvitation to enter. His father was sitting by the fire, a single candle burning on the mantelshelf.
‘What in hell’s name brings you here?’
The greeting was every bit as unwelcoming as Drew had expected. He bit back an equally curt retort.
‘I saw your light under the door.’
‘What of it? Can’t a man sit in his own room now without being disturbed?’
‘Is anything amiss, sir? Can I help?’
With a curse the old man pushed himself up out of his chair.
‘Of course there is something amiss and no, you cannot help, since you are the cause of it.’ Drew waited silently while Sir Edward strode over to the window. ‘I was thinking of your mother,’ he said at last, gazing out into the darkness. ‘And Simon. Both gone.’
‘I am very sorry, Fa—sir.’
‘And so you should be.’
Drew’s jaw clenched hard. He should not have come, but now he was here he would have his say.
‘I do not see any reason why you should believe me, but I deeply regret what I did in ’forty-five. If I had not been so young, so foolish, I would have come back to England, discussed it with you before I took such a reckless step.’
‘You know I would have forbidden you to join the rebels and you, like as not, would have run counter to my commands, as always.’
‘There is always the possibility that I might have heeded you.’
The old man gave a scornful laugh.
‘It would have been the first time.’
A long silence followed. Drew heard the crackle of the fire as a burning log collapsed into the embers. The timbers of the old house creaked, settling for the night. He should not have come. He was about to bid his father goodnight when the old man spoke again.
‘You are hot-headed, like me. Your mother always said so. Stubborn, too.’
‘Another trait I inherited from my sire.’
Sir Edward turned with a snarl. ‘Do not blame me for your misfortunes.’
‘I do not,’ Drew flashed back. ‘I blame no one but myself.’ He turned away with an exasperated sigh. ‘I was a fool to come here tonight. What is broken cannot be mended.’ He strode to the door. ‘One more day, sir, then you will be bothered with my presence no more.’
He left the room and closed the door behind him, hoping but not expecting his father to call him back.
There was only silence.
Chapter Seven
Drew was relieved when the first grey fingers of dawn crept into the room and he could get up. He had not slept well; his rest had been disturbed by dreams. After making a few tentative moves with his arm he decided to leave off the sling. The new dressing Stinchcombe had put on was much less bulky, and his frock-coat slid easily over his shirtsleeve. The dark stain was still visible on the sleeve of his coat. It would have to do until he reached Bath. He would buy himself some new clothes there before he returned to France.
And what then? He stood before the mirror, staring at his reflection. He had been a fool to come to England, it had set him yearning for a life he could not have.
‘Why not?’ he asked himself aloud. ‘I could live in England as Andrew Bastion. Buy a little property away from here. In the north, perhaps, where no one knows me.’
The thought was pleasing, but it did not last long. Such a life would give him no rest. He would always be wary of being recognised, nervous of every knock at the door. No, he would return to the Continent. Perhaps not Paris, but there were other cities, fortunes to be won, ladies to be wooed.
Suddenly the life he had known with Harry did not appeal to him any longer.
‘Well, that is unfortunate, sir,’ he told himself savagely. He shook out his ruffles and made a final adjustment to the lace at his neck and stared hard into the glass. ‘Because it is the only life you have now.’
With that he turned and strode to the door, determined to walk off his restless energy.
* * *
The sun peeping over the window ledge woke Elyse. She stretched and lay still for a few moments, wondering why her spirits should feel so depressed. Something weighed on her heart, a heavy problem that she had pondered long into the night. The morning light brought no relief. She slipped out of bed and dressed herself in the yellow morning gown that had belonged to Drew’s mama.
Drew. He was part of her problem. William was the other part.
Elyse began to pace up and down the floor but it did not help. Her head felt it might burst with the thoughts that crowded in on her. In Scarborough she would have taken a walk along the cliff to clear her head but there was no convenient coastline here. She glanced out of the window. The neglected garden was the next best thing. Picking up her shawl she made her way outside.
Hartcombe’s grounds were extensive. She saw Jed working in the kitchen garden and quickly turned the other way, going past the overgrown shrubbery and into what had once been a rose garden. The plants had not been tended for years, they rioted over the walls and were thickly entwined in the hedges. Only the very widest path was still passable and she picked her way along it, holding her skirts close to avoid the snatching thorns. Squeezing between two overgrown bushes she found herself at the western end of the garden. The high outer wall was ahead of her and beyond that the trees of the neighbouring woodland grew thick and tall. However, standing against the wall a short distance away was a small pavilion built in the style of a Palladian temple with a series of fluted columns supporting a pedimented roof.
The morning sun was already high enough to shine on to the building. It showed that the stucco was cracked and peeling in places, but it had a sad sort of elegance that appealed to Elyse in her present mood. She moved closer to investigate. It was quite a shallow structure, enclosed on three sides and it was bare of ornament save a wide marble bench placed against the back wall. Elyse sank down on the seat and gazed out. In more affluent times she thought the prospect must have been quite beautiful, but the box hedges had grown quite out of control and the shrubs and plants that had once flourished between the hedges had been ousted by weeds.
It looked very sad, but incredibly peaceful and she gave herself up to the thoughts that had been troubling her throughout the night. She closed her eyes and tried once again to summon up William’s face, but it would not come. She remembered she had thought him extremely handsome, with his classical features, gently curving brows and soft brown eyes that she thought were quite the most beautiful she had ever seen. But now the only image that she could conjure was Drew’s lean face with its straight dark brows and piercing eyes, the deep blue of a summer sky.
She knew she loved William but he had become a distant, shadowy figure, whereas Drew was such a vital, masculine presence that even now her body almost trembled at the thought of him. When he was near she wanted to reach out and touch him, to have him kiss her again and relive those exhilarating sensations that had made her feel so alive. She crossed her arms and hugged herself.
Would William affect me in the same way if he was here? In the years we have been apart I have become a woman.
Her arms tightened as she remembered Drew’s cutting words the night she had attended the masquerade. Perhaps she was too innocent for him, but he was a rake and accustomed to amusing himself with women of experience. William would not see her thus. A tremor of doubt shook her. Perhaps he would. After all he, too, would have changed in the past three years.
She heard a sound, a rustle of leaves, a faint step, and opened her eyes. Her heart gave a little leap when she saw Drew standing before her.
‘Oh—I,’ she stumbled over the words. ‘I came out for a little air. I hope you do not mind...’
‘No, why should I? I myself have been walking in the woods.’ He gave her a searching look. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘N-No, not exactly.’
He sat down on the bench and her eyes were drawn to the muscular thigh encased in buckskin that was so close to her own. Only inches separated them and she felt her mouth go dry.
‘Tell me,’ he said gently.
When she did not reply he reached out and took her hand.
‘You were kind enough to listen to me yesterday. The least I can do is the same for you, when you look so troubled.’ Her hand fluttered in his grasp and he continued, ‘Tell me what is wrong, Elyse. I am not only your guardian, but your friend, too, you know.’
A friend? Yes, she did believe that, and he understood her, more so than anyone else she had ever met.
‘I am afraid,’ she said at last. ‘William and I have not seen each other for so many years. What if he does not like me?’
‘He cannot fail to like you.’
‘You said I was a child, playing a woman’s games. What if,’ she felt the colour mounting in her cheeks. ‘What if William expects—wants—a woman? What if I disappoint him?’ She lifted her eyes to his face. ‘This must seem very foolish to you—’
He put his fingers on her lips.
‘Not foolish at all,’ he said gravely.
His eyes had darkened to azure, drawing her in. With a sigh she leaned against him.
‘Oh, Drew, how should I behave towards him?’
‘You must be yourself, Elyse. He will be captivated, believe me.’
His words were so soft that she tilted her head up, leaning even closer to catch them. A delicious languor was spreading through her body. It was so comfortable sitting here with Drew, yet his words did not totally reassure her.
‘But you are not,’ she whispered unable to look away from his dark entrancing gaze. ‘I have not captivated you.’
‘Have you not?’
She could not move. She was staring up at him, her lips slightly parted and all she could do was to run her tongue around them. She saw his eyes widen and something flared in their depths, a look that sent a sudden shock of anticipation slamming through her even as he put his hand on her cheek and captured her mouth with his own.
Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone SheriffThe Gentleman RogueNever Trust a Rebel Page 59
