“But it’s true,” Lady Elderdale said.
Caspian let out a quiet breath. His mother twisted her fingers into the blue silk of her dress and lowered her head.
“But how?” Lord Elderdale asked.
“Lady Helena and I remained in touch after she and Lord Charles eloped,” Lady Elderdale replied. “I’ll admit to that. I told no one of what really happened or where they really went. How could I deny the wishes of my dearest friend?”
“My brother,” Lord Newhost said, his voice soft, “is he still alive?”
Lady Elderdale shook her head. “I’m dreadfully sorry, My Lord, but he died many years ago. It was consumption that took him.”
“Consumption,” Lord Newhost muttered. “All these years…”
“And I imagine my sister is dead, also?” Lord Elderdale asked.
Lady Elderdale nodded. “I knew I ought to say something, but I could not reveal anything without risking their happiness. I only wanted…I only wanted Lady Helena—sweet Helena—to be happy.”
Tears sprang to Lady Elderdale’s eyes, and Caspian reached across the space to her, squeezing her thin hand.
“I would think that Helena could never have wanted for a better friend,” Caspian said.
“But all those years of fighting,” Lady Elderdale said, her voice shaking. “I wanted so badly to say something, to tell everyone, but I didn’t dare. I knew what would happen, and I—I feared it might be even worse than—than how…”
Lord Newhost cleared his throat. “If keeping your silence pleased my brother, I’m glad you did. Despite our…differences over the years, I did dearly love my brother. I’ll confess that I never imagined hearing something like this, but if what you say is true, I am sorry. For you. That you had to shoulder this alone and for so long.”
Caspian glanced gratefully at Gwendoline’s father, but the lord’s attention seemed too fixed on Lady Elderdale for him to notice.
“But this child,” Lord Newhost said. “What became of it?”
Lady Elderdale winced and looked to her husband, who frowned but didn’t seem to realize the answer that was right before him.
“Do you remember, My Lord, where I was when I gave birth to Noah?” Lady Elderdale asked.
“Scotland,” he replied without a second’s hesitation. “Or was it Ireland? One of the two.”
“It was Scotland,” Lady Gwendoline replied. “She left, she said, to have some fresh air.”
Lord Elderdale furrowed his brow. “Are you implying that you switched your baby with Lady Helena’s?”
Lady Elderdale shook her head. “I had no child, my Lord. It was a deception the entire time.”
All the color faded from Lord Elderdale’s face. He seemed stunned. His eyes flitted nervously about the room, as if this revelation was something which he physically could not manage to believe. “The entire pregnancy was staged? How did you manage such a thing and for so long?”
Lady Elderdale’s smile was watery. “You often do not pay me much mind, My Lord,” she confessed. “I am ashamed for deceiving you, and I’m embarrassed to admit that my deception has ensnared me now. But I do not regret helping Lady Helena. I loved her as a sister, as the other half of my own heart. And I could not—I could not predict how you’d treat your sister’s child. I knew how vehemently you hated the Farraday family.”
“My uncle died of consumption and left Lady Helena alone with their child,” Lady Gwendoline said. “There was nothing else Lady Helena could do, no one else who she trusted with her child. But your wife was so unparalleled in virtue that Lady Helena went to her.”
A rare look of tenderness crossed Lord Elderdale’s face. He seemed to soften before Caspian’s very eyes. “I’ll admit that I’m impressed with your ingenuity,” Lord Elderdale said, gazing at his wife. “I never realized…”
Lady Elderdale shook her head. “You praise me too highly, My Lord. It seems as though all my actions have done is put Lady Gwendoline in danger.”
“Yes,” Lord Newhost said. “Let’s discuss that in further detail. I still have questions about this.”
“In truth, there’s not much to tell,” Lady Gwendoline said. “Lord Noah desired the inheritance, so he tried to kill me. And Lord Caspian. His horse riding accident was no mistake. Lord Noah followed his brother and then spooked Lord Caspian’s horse.”
“Yes, I do recall hearing something about that,” Lord Newhost muttered, “of an accident.”
Caspian smiled weakly. “I wasn’t supposed to leave the bed. The physician told me it would be a bad idea.”
If Caspian was being honest with himself, he’d admit that he was really beginning to feel that injury at the back of his head. Although he was able to follow the conversation, he was so tired that even the floor was looking like an acceptable place to sleep. Fighting with Noah, too, had taken a toll on his body. He hurt in places that he hadn’t known it was possible to hurt.
“I’m not usually an advocate for ignoring an educated man’s advice,” Lord Newhost said, passing the locket back to Caspian. “But I am grateful that you did. I’d have been devastated if anything happened to Gwendoline. And her poor mother would never recover.”
Caspian curled his fingers over the locket, although really, it didn’t belong to him. He wondered if Lord Newhost was too stunned by the morning’s revelations to realize that.
“So we have one son who’s spent the past several weeks gallivanting around with the niece of our family’s sworn enemy and one who tried to shoot the niece of our family’s sworn enemy,” Lord Elderdale said, sighing. “By God. Please, accept my apologies for anything malicious which Noah may have done.”
“Do you think an apology makes everything fine?” Lord Newhost asked sharply.
Lord Elderdale shook his head. “Of course, it doesn’t. As much as it pains me to say it, I expect that Noah will face justice like any other man. But I am genuinely, sincerely sorry for everything that has happened. I never anticipated that—that all this might lead to someone being hurt, much less a young lady.”
“But you aren’t the only one who deserves blame,” Lady Gwendoline said. “None of this would have happened if Lord Charles and Lady Helena had been allowed to wed. What Lord Noah did was wrong and should be punished, but he was right about that one thing. Our families have sown discord where they could have sown love, and we have all perpetuated it throughout the years. Even Lord Caspian, even myself.”
“And you’re proposing that we end all this discord here and now?” Lord Newhost asked.
“Of course not,” Lady Gwendoline said.
Caspian met her dark eyes and beamed with pride. She was so beautiful when she was brave, so gorgeous when she was speaking as she was. And she had not only a wit about her but also a grace and a wisdom that he’d never recognized before.
I love you.
The three words lingered on the tip of his tongue, but Caspian knew this wasn’t the time to say them. For now, Lady Gwendoline was safe. And she would be safe all the days of her life if Caspian had a say. But he’d find a way to share those words with her. Someday soon.
“It will take time for both of our families to right all the wrongs we have committed against one another,” Lady Gwendoline continued. “But every tall tree begins as a small seed. And after everything that has happened, I think that would suffice. A small measure of understanding between our families which may grow as time passes.”
Silence followed her speech, but Caspian nodded. He agreed, of course, but after hearing Lady Gwendoline speak, it seemed as if there was nothing left to say, no witticism or embellishment that might improve upon her well-crafted words.
“When did you become so wise, Gwendoline?” Lord Newhost asked after a beat of silence. “I think I might be willing to try for your sake. All this time, I feared I’d raised a daughter who was…well. Whatever I thought, I know that I was in error. Your mother and I raised an intelligent, lovely lady.”
“I agree,” Lord Elderdale
said, standing and extending his hand. “I won’t say that this will all be easy. In fact, I have made quite a pastime over ruining your businesses as best as I could, but I might be inclined to try this if you are.”
Lord Newhost slowly rose, and the Lords shook hands.
“I trust, though,” Lord Newhost said, looking at his daughter. “That this will be the end of any inappropriate escapades.”
“I promise,” Lady Gwendoline replied sheepishly.
“For both of you,” Lord Elderdale added.
Caspian tried not to grin too broadly. “Yes, My Lord.”
Lord Newhost dropped his hand. “There is still the matter of Lord Noah,” he said.
Lord Elderdale nodded. “It hurts my heart to admit it, but I agree. He’ll need to have a trial, of course. I’ll alert the authorities at once.”
And Caspian knew that his father would. He’d lost a brother, and yet they’d done it. He and Lady Gwendoline had started something, had penned the first words to a happy ending in which their families were no longer bitter enemies. And when Lady Gwendoline’s eyes met his, it took all Caspian’s resolve not to rush across the room and pull her into his arms.
“I love you,” he mouthed when no one else was looking.
The Lady’s lips curved into a small, sly smile. And once farewells were being exchanged, she’d leaned just a little too close to him and whispered the words that set his heart racing and his blood roaring.
“I love you, too.”
Epilogue
The Season came and went, and in two weeks, it would begin again. And although Gwendoline welcomed the balls and the dresses and the excitement, she knew that this Season would be a flurry of gossip.
After all, it is not every day that a lord is stripped of his titles or that a lady is held at gunpoint.
When Lord Noah, the only son of Lord Charles and Lady Helena, was sentenced to the goal for assaulting a peer of the realm, Gwendoline heard of it through Florence first. And it was as if a great weight had been lifted from Gwendoline’s shoulders.
Although Gwendoline had insisted that she was fine to everyone who’d asked, she never mentioned the nightmares. Sometimes, she woke in the dead of night, drenched in sweat, at the memory of that gun pointed squarely at her breast. She usually woke before Lord Caspian’s valiant rescue of her, and that part of the memory she didn’t quite mind.
“Welcome, Lady Gwendoline! What a pleasant surprise,” Lady Elderdale said, as she seated herself by a small, elegant table.
Ever since their families’ resolve to be kinder to one another, Gwendoline had made a habit of visiting the Elderdale’s property. At first, her visits were infrequent and justifiable. She was forever ensuring that Lord Caspian was recovering well from his rescue of her, and when that excuse wore thin, she found others to visit.
But after Lord Noah’s trial ended, after he was formally stripped of his titles—although Gwendoline still found herself thinking of him thusly—Gwendoline had sheepishly dropped her pretenses and admitted that she really wanted to visit Lord Caspian.
“I happened to be in the area,” Gwendoline replied.
That was almost true.
“How are you doing, My Lady?” Gwendoline asked.
During her infrequent visits, Gwendoline had discovered that Lady Elderdale was a sensitive, kind lady, just as Caspian had once said. And although Lady Elderdale insisted that she was fine, Gwendoline wondered if the lady was truly over knowing what Lord Noah, the child she’d taken in and raised herself, had done.
Could any Lady ever move beyond such a thing?
“I am well,” Lady Elderdale said. “And seeing you always lifts my spirits.”
Despite Gwendoline’s worries, Lady Elderdale did look well. Her cheeks held a warm, rosy color, and her eyes seemed brighter. From what Lord Caspian implied, Lord and Lady Elderdale seemed to have, against all odds, grown closer to one another. It wasn’t quite love, Lord Caspian said.
But it was friendship, or something of the kind. At least, there was an effort being made to a sort of mutual happiness.
“And seeing you lifts mine,” Gwendoline said, lifting the tea to her lips.
It was sweet and herbal, a bit like Lord Caspian. Gwendoline’s cheeks pinkened with the thought.
“Lord Caspian,” the parlor maid announced.
“Is it my presence which lifts them?” Lady Elderdale asked, sounding amused.
“Your presence would lift anyone’s spirits,” Gwendoline replied.
Lord Caspian entered, and with a charming smile, he bent and kissed his mother’s cheek. “My two favorite ladies in the same room,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Lady Gwendoline and I were just discussing the raising of spirits,” Lady Elderdale replied.
“Were you?”
Lord Caspian sat, and Gwendoline felt a rush of pleasure when his eyes lighted on her.
“That sounds like an agreeable topic,” Lord Caspian said. “I think all of our spirits have been raised of late.”
Gwendoline furrowed her brow, searching his face for any sign that something might be amiss. But there did not seem to be any. It looked as though Lord Caspian was really and truly fine. Perhaps, for better or worse, tragedy had knit this family more strongly together rather than tearing them apart.
“I have heard the rumor that our fathers are tentatively negotiating some business in Scotland,” Lord Caspian said conspiratorially. “Do you know anything about that, Lady Gwendoline?”
She did, and heat rushed to her face. The agreement had been going well enough until Lord Elderdale made a snide comment, the details of which Gwendoline was not privy to, and this led to Lord Newhost saying some decidedly ungentlemanly things when he believed that he was alone and unheard in his private study.
“I’m sure it is going well,” Gwendoline said carefully, “And I’m not at liberty to repeat precisely what my father said regarding either the business venture or its progress.”
Lord Caspian whistled between his teeth.
“You must be patient with them,” Lady Elderdale said. “If there’s one thing I have learned about men, it is that they are never inclined to change their ways suddenly and without a good amount of gentle prodding.”
“Is that so?” Lord Caspian asked.
“Oh, it’s definitely true with respect to you,” Gwendoline replied, grinning.
Lord Caspian had grace enough to feign offense, and Lady Elderdale’s eyes brightened with a knowing sparkle.
“It does feel like a sort of dance between them,” Lord Caspian mused. “For every step they take forward, they seem to take another back.”
“Then, we’ll keep gently prodding them, as your mother says,” Gwendoline said, thinking of her own father.
Lord Newhost still wasn’t the kind, doting father that Gwendoline remembered from her childhood, but she’d come to accept that he never would be. No, she had a different father now, and yet after everything that had happened, he seemed changed yet again.
Or maybe it was she who’d changed. Maybe the both of them had. But whoever and whichever of them had changed, Gwendoline no longer felt like the young lady who always fell short and was eternally under too much pressure. Her father had grown to love this new, braver version of herself, the version who spoke up and still—occasionally—engaged in a moonlit escapade.
“Well, I have seldom known my mother to be wrong,” Lord Caspian said.
Lady Elderdale smiled, but the gesture didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I have raised a good son,” she murmured.
“You did,” Lord Caspian said, his smile uneven. “I think it was how often you maimed me with your needles. That taught me to be a humble man.”
“Maiming you?” Gwendoline asked.
“I beg your pardon, My Lady,” the parlor maid said, offering a curtsy, “But there is a dressmaker here who believes that you requested to speak with her.”
“Oh, right,” Lady Elderdale said. “I did req
uest her presence. Apologies.”
Gwendoline nodded, understanding the importance of speaking to dressmakers directly. The best dressmakers in London always had ample clients, and not answering one directly might often mean that you found yourself in search of another dressmaker with too little time to receive good results.
In the past few weeks, Gwendoline herself had dealt with dressmakers, too. Her father had been insistent upon new dresses, seemingly hoping that this Season Gwendoline would become engaged, and Gwendoline’s mother had insisted on joining them.
“The Season is always a bore,” Lady Newhost had said, “And yet the one Season I choose not to attend in London is the one where all the excitement occurs. Never again.”
The Earl That Overruled My Destiny Page 28
