Silent Dreams

by Monroe, Jennifer

  Annabel stopped in front of a shop window. “That hat is lovely. I cannot decide if yellow or blue is my favorite color.” She turned and looked up at him. “What is your opinion?”

  Edward looked at the hat a woman inside the shop held. “I believe both colors suit you, but I am fonder of blue.” When he turned his gaze back to her, she was still looking up at him. “It is the color of your eyes, and so the color will only accentuate them. However, it does not matter what color you wear.”

  “Why is that?”

  He chuckled. “Look at you. You are beautiful wearing brown burlap or wearing the finest fabrics from Paris.” For a moment, he allowed himself to think of her as his wife. They were shopping together, and he would buy her whatever she desired. However, that was the thinking of a fool, and he shook the thoughts from his head. “We should leave.”

  Annabel nodded and turned away, but not before he caught the redness of her cheeks. Somehow, that only made her all the more alluring, and he could not wipe the smile from his lips as she slipped her arm through his.

  As they continued their walk, they neared a fine carriage just as a couple alighted. Edward’s heart froze and sweat beaded his brow as the man turned their way.

  “Wolcott?” the man, a Lord Grandly by name, asked in shock. “Is that you?” He gave Edward a wide grin. “By God, man, it has been a long time.”

  “It has,” Edward replied, not believing his bad luck. “Ten years, I believe.” What were the chances he would encounter a man from his past this far from home? He had better luck at the gaming tables, and he lost more than he won there.

  “This is my wife, Esther.” The woman bent her head at Edward but curled her lip when she looked at Annabel. “Is this one of your servants?”

  Edward gritted his teeth and said the first thing that came to mind. “She is my wife, and I find your words an insult.”

  Lord Grandly cackled a laugh. “An insult? You are mighty bold to say such things. A viscount who brings such shame down upon his family name has no right to judge the likes of me.” He turned to his wife. “You remember me telling you about Edward Wolcott, do you not, my dear? His foolishness cost me dearly.”

  Edward forced calm into his voice. “I hardly believe the hundred pounds you sacrificed in our business dealings broke the bank.”

  “I suppose you are correct,” Lord Grandly replied. “However, it is a testament to your foolishness that a great family name was ruined in a single generation.” He looked Edward up and down with a sneer. “Truly you must be disgusted with how your life turned out. Just look at you, dressing like a commoner, and a razor has not touched your face in weeks.”

  Edward glared at the man. “I may be a bit disheveled, but at least I do not find enjoyment in gossiping as I suppose you have done about me to others in Portsmouth.”

  Lord Grandly laughed. “I left not two months after you. My fortune has increased, and my wife wished for a larger home. Therefore, we purchased a lovely estate in Oxford and now spend much of our time traveling and seeing what this country has to offer.”

  “Gregory,” the man’s wife said in a low hiss as she grasped his arm, “people are looking at us. I do not wish to be seen conversing with the likes of these people. Someone may take us up wrong.”

  “Oh, let them look, my dear,” Lord Grandly said with a sneer. “For they are witnesses to the fact that we speak with a man who is nothing more than a failure.”

  Edward considered striking the man, but then to his astonishment, Annabel spoke. “If failure is measured by the size of one’s coin purse, then you that is one thing. However, I measure success in a different way.”

  “And how is that?” the man demanded. “Surely there is no other way to measure the worth of a man.”

  “Hair,” she replied without the slightest indication that she was jesting. “A man with sparse hair must dread the idea of a brush. Yet, my Edward,” she reached up and tousled his hair, “has plenty and finds a brush welcoming. I imagine your wife must rub candle wax on your head, for I have never seen one that shines as much as yours.”

  Lady Grandly gasped and clutched at her breast, and her husband looked nearly apoplectic.

  Edward took hold of Annabel’s elbow. “We are leaving,” he said, and without another word, he led Annabel past the Grandlys and down the street.

  “Remember, Wolcott,” Lord Grandly called after him, “you are a failure. The ton knows it, and you know it. Your life is a huge failure and nothing more.”

  Edward gritted his teeth as he clutched the bags he carried at his side. He wished to tell the man he was wrong, but the words would not come. Deep down, he knew the truth it was spoken.

  Well, soon the ransom money would come and he would no longer be a failure. In fact, he would be the viscount he once was, and he looked forward to that day more than ever.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Annabel watched as Edward tilted the bottle and took a large drink of brandy without using a glass. Once they had returned to the cottage after the confrontation with Edward’s acquaintance in town earlier that day, he had gone straight for the bottle, drinking the amber liquid as if it were water and he a man recently returned from the desert.

  Part of her wished to take the drink away from him and send him packing off to the bed he had relegated for her. Another part hoped he would drink himself into a stupor, which would allow her to sneak out into the night. The latter held less appeal somehow, or perhaps it was that she had yet to fully believe her aunt would not be harmed if she attempted an escape. Either way, it pained her to see him hurt as he did.

  What a strange sentiment! How could she feel any sympathy for a man who had kidnapped her? The fact she held such feelings only made her frustration deepen.

  “Get me another,” Edward ordered in a slurred voice as he lifted the now empty bottle while leaning against the wall and gazing out the window. He did not turn to look at her, but he added a harsh “Now!” to the request.

  She hurried to the kitchen and selected one of the numerous bottles. She returned with two wooden cups and poured them each a measure before setting the bottle on the floor beside her where he could not reach it.

  “A failure!” Edward said with a sneer. Whether he was talking to her or himself, she was uncertain. “I, a failure.” He snorted.

  Annabel had witnessed drunkenness before. As a matter of fact, she had been tipsy herself when Juliet had forced her to join in a round of drinking. Well, perhaps she was not forced, but, nonetheless, it had been Juliet’s fault for introducing her to the vile concoction. What was different in this occasion was that when she and Juliet had drunk together, they had endured a fit of giggles, not anger as Edward was now.

  “Here you are,” Annabel said, handing the man one of the cups.

  He grunted as he accepted the cup without comment, for which Annabel was pleased.

  “I doubt my opinion holds much value to you,” she said, choosing her words with care, “but I do not believe you are a failure.”

  He leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes. Despite his inebriation, his unshaven chin, and his wrinkled clothes, she felt her heart soften toward him. And her knees, for she was forced to grasp the back of a chair to keep from toppling over he was so handsome.

  “Your words are kind,” he said, raising his cup toward her as if to toast. “However, Grandly was right. I am a failure.”

  Annabel looked down into her cup. “So, it is true? You were, or rather are, a viscount?”

  He pushed away from the wall. “I am. If only in title now. Otherwise, I have nothing. No land, no business connections, no wealth. All I had is gone, brought about by my own stupidity.” He pulled his head back, downed the entire measure of brandy in one gulp, and held out the empty cup to be filled again.

  Annabel hesitated but refilled the cup. “I hardly think you can blame only yourself for the travesties that have befallen you,” she said in hopes of easing the man’s pain. “Surely there were ot
hers who contributed to your demise?”

  Edward laughed at this. “Your innocence is as alluring as your beauty. One day you will make a fine wife.” He sighed. “A most fortunate man indeed, and one I admit for whom I hold a great deal of jealousy.”

  With uncertainty, Annabel stared at him for a moment. His words gave her the same sense of belonging as those of her aunt and cousins. How could that be? “That is kind,” she said. “However, I fear that if I go to stay with Juliet, I will marry no man, not even a butcher. Perhaps a life of spinsterhood will be much more enjoyable than I believe.”

  “You only see the ugliness of life,” he said, swaying on his feet a moment before falling back against the wall once again. “There are many things for which you should be thankful.”

  “I am thankful,” Annabel replied defensively, yet he gave her no opportunity to expand on that thought.

  “Yes, yes. I suppose in some ways you are. However, you seem to complain even when good fortune comes your way.”

  “Good fortune?” she asked with a small laugh. “I am not certain I would use the term ‘good fortune’ to describe my life thus far.”

  “Do you do hard labor in the fields?” he asked. “I know you have said your parents do not care for you, or you believe they do not, but what of your aunt? And your cousins? Do they not love you?”

  “Well, yes, they do, of course. I have always felt welcome at Scarlett Hall as if it was my own home.”

  “Ah-ha!” he said, lifting a finger in the air. “Do you not see? They care for you not because they must but because they choose to. Oftentimes people have no one to whom they can turn in times of need. You have many who adore you, people who are there in times of trouble. You should be thankful for that.”

  Annabel’s heart wrenched, for she could see the pain in his features. “What you have said gives me pause. Thank you for giving me something on which to ponder.” She pulled out one of the chairs and sat. “I do not mean to pry, and if you do not wish to tell me the circumstances surrounding how you lost all you had, but did you have no one to whom you could turn when you faced adversity?

  For a moment, she was uncertain if he would respond. However, he sighed and took the seat across from her. “There was no one,” he said, finally. “My parents had long since died, and I have no siblings.” He leaned back in the chair and leaned an arm on the table. “I can remember that day as if it were yesterday. I told you before that I once cared for a woman. Do you remember?”

  Annabel nodded. “I assume she died?”

  “Died?” he said with a laugh. “No, that was not her great achievement. However, I nearly did.”

  This was certainly different from what she had expected, and she listened intently to his story.

  “For many months, I courted a woman named Mary of the Landed Gentry who was in the care of a brother, a man who was the sole provider for their family after the death of their parents. I thought her the most beautiful woman alive, and I adored her because she enjoyed the same pastimes as I. We became close not long after we met and soon we began speaking of marriage. Although she accepted my proposal, we had yet to announce our engagement when I fell gravely ill.”

  Annabel gave him a small smile and reached out to place her hand on his. “You do not have to tell me if you prefer not to. I do not wish to cause you pain.”

  “My pain does not come because of anything you have done,” Edward replied. “It is mine to claim.” He shook his head and sighed. “As my illness worsened, I became unable to attend to my business interests—or any other important matters of my estate. The doctor thought I might die, and the way I felt, I sometimes wished it. For days, weeks, I lay in bed unable to rise, and Mary told me often that those who had been doing business with me were withdrawing, for they worried that my weakness would be detrimental to their investments.”

  “What happened? Had she tried to kill you?”

  “In her own way, yes. And she succeeded. While I was bedridden and out of my wits, she convinced me to sign over power of attorney to her brother. That way, if I did not recover, or if I remained as I was, he could keep my estate from failing. And if I did recover, I could take back control. Or so I thought.”

  Annabel gasped and covered her mouth. “She took it all from you? You trusted her, and she betrayed you?”

  “Indeed,” he said with a cynical snort. “Like a fool, I signed over everything to her brother. It was not until later that I learned that they had manipulated the entire ordeal in order to line their own pockets. All had been sold, and all my life, every possession, every investment, was gone.”

  “I am so sorry,” Annabel said. The words could never bring him the comfort he needed, but it was all she had to offer him.

  “The day I had the strength to walk on my own, I joined the last of the servants and walked away from my estate. Even Barrington, my faithful butler, walked beside me, carrying my bag in attempt to lessen my shame. Many of the ton came to witness the man who had signed away his life to a woman who was already married.”

  “Already married?”

  Edward nodded. “Her brother was not who they had said he was. He was her husband, not her brother.”

  “Then she lied from the start!”

  Edward reached down and grabbed the bottle she had placed on the floor. He lifted it to his lips and drank, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt after. “She was a swindler, and I used what she taught me to cheat and trick others. And that, my dear Annabel, is how the Fifth Viscount Wolcott became a failure.” The chair nearly fell to the floor as he pushed it back in order to stand.

  Annabel had to fight back tears as she considered the man before her, a once kind man who had been hurt and led astray. Her heart had told her before she had learned of his past, when he was Don Ricardo Sánchez Ramírez, that he was good. From what she garnered from his story was that he had been good before this Mary had used him for her own gain. What she wished to know was if that good man still resided inside the man before her.

  She stood and walked to stand in front of him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, giving her a suspicious look.

  She placed a hand on his cheek. “The night I met you, or rather when I met Don Ricardo, my heart led me to you. Although I struggled in making that decision, my heart told me that all would be well. When I allowed you to kiss me, I knew it was right.”

  “Have you not listened to a word I said?” he said coldly. “You cannot trust your heart. Doing so will only hurt you in the end.”

  “You may be right,” she said in a quiet voice. “However, I must discover it for myself.” Stepping onto her toes, she touched her lips to his. Fire erupted inside her, and her heart confirmed what she had expected. “They are still there,” she whispered when the kiss ended. “My feelings for you are as strong now as they were then. So I ask you, my lord, do you feel the same?”

  She waited in eager anticipation that he would respond in kind. However, rather than returning her admission of admiration for him, he laughed.

  “I feel nothing for you,” he replied. “You are a means to an end and nothing more. I only wish to rebuild my estate and become the man I once was.”

  The world around her began to spin, her heart clenched in agony, and she shook her head. “That is all you think of me?” she said, taking a step back. “Does your heart not feel an affection for me even in the slightest?”

  He lifted the bottle and turned his back to her. “You are merely a woman who will provide me funds. As to any feelings concerning you, I have none.”

  With a heavy heart, Annabel went to the bedroom without another word. The decision with which she had struggled was now made for her. Once he had drunk himself into a stupor, she would leave the cottage and never return regardless of the risks in doing so. She could not spend one more day here with a man for whom she had come to admire when he saw her as nothing more than an object.

  It was strange. What concerned her the most was how much
her heart hurt at never seeing him again.

  ***

  Annabel peeked into the sitting room and saw the figure asleep on the sofa. Edward appeared so peaceful lying there, and she tiptoed over to place a blanket over his sleeping form.

  “Despite what you believe,” she whispered as she squatted down to pull the blanket up to his chin, “you are a good man and not a failure. I hope one day you come to understand that.” Without thought as to why, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek before standing once again. “Goodbye.”

  She returned to the bedroom, closed the door behind her with a light click, and went to the window. She had not forgotten the groan the frame had made her first night in the cottage, so she eased the window up, this time with no more than a light scraping. She doubted the house falling down around them would have woken the man in the other room.

  Peering out into the night, she once again questioned the wisdom of leaving before sunrise. Yet, if she tried to sneak away during the daylight hours, the chances of a guard catching her rose exponentially, and she could not allow that to happen. The majority of the guards would be asleep at this hour, and if any patrolled the area, they would be few, making her escape easier. She would keep a close watch and listen carefully for any signs, and if she happened upon anyone, be he guard or not, she would have the shadows of the surrounding foliage in which to hide.

  Blowing out the candle, she gathered the small bundle she had collected, containing a dress, an extra pair of stockings, bread, and cheese, and threw it out the window. It landed on the ground with a muffled thud. Now it was time for her to go out the window.

  She threw one leg over the sill, but before she hoisted herself through, a strange reluctance came over her. The man in the other room was hurting and in need of help, and for reasons she could not fathom, she cared for him. If she left, what would become of him? He had already endured so much. Would he fall further into misery, thus forcing himself to do something sinister he would regret later?