The Cynfell Brothers

by Samantha Holt

  Hands to the sandstone, Anna moved around and peered at the lady’s tennis partner. Her mouth ran dry. Her heart near leaped from her chest.

  A young boy. The right age. Dark hair like hers. He grinned and served the ball back with a healthy swing.

  Frozen, she observed them playing for several moments. It was him. There was no doubting it. Instinctively, she just knew it.

  Her son played well for a young lad and his laugh rang in her ears. She closed her eyes briefly to savour the sound.

  Another woman’s voice called across the grass. Anna’s legs refused to work when this next lady, dressed in much finer clothes than her son’s tennis companion, strolled across the lawn. The boy barrelled across the grass when he spotted her and flung himself into her arms.

  “Mother!” the boy exclaimed

  The knot in Anna’s throat tightened. This was Lady Everett. His mother. Her son’s mother.

  Indecision burned through her mind. If she stepped out, made some claim to being his mother, what would happen? She’d likely be carted away and would scare the boy. If she did not say something, would it hurt her forever?

  She looked at the boy, watched his face when he pulled back from Lady Everett and picked up the tennis racket to show her his skills. He was healthy, happy, and clearly loved. Did she need anything more? Was she really considering wrenching him from this life? She knew she had no legal recourse anyway and even if her power brought him back, what good would that do him?

  Tears blurred her vision. She sniffed and forced herself back from the scene. A male voice rang out—one of the gardeners, she suspected—demanding to know what she was doing.

  She swiftly moved around the building to the gates. The gardener followed but perhaps had surmised she was of no danger to them as he made no attempt to stop her from leaving. She pushed through the gates and listened hard for the laughter of her son.

  He was happy, she told herself again, drawing out a handkerchief to dab her eyes. With one last glance at the home, she strode down the street and forced her stiff legs to keep going until she found a hack. Once in the safe confines of the vehicle, she blew her nose and took in a long breath of the slightly musty air. She could barely recall covering the distance between the house and the carriage now but her hands were shaking less. She curled them together and willed herself to remain calm.

  “The right decision,” she murmured to herself.

  She knew everything she needed to know. Her son had not suffered for her and her family’s mistakes. He would grow up privileged and free from the taint of her scandal. And happy. What more could she ask?

  The carriage came to a halt, and Anna hardly waited for it to stop rocking before disembarking. She paid the driver and rapped on the door of Harris’ townhouse. She tapped her feet impatiently. Though she hardly knew how to explain what she’d done, she knew what she needed.

  Harris.

  His butler answered and immediately beckoned her in upon recognising her. No judgement sat in his expression. Perhaps he was used to bleary-eyed women on his master’s doorstep.

  “He is in the study, Miss Anna.”

  “Thank you,” she managed to squeak out.

  She took the next set of steps up and paused outside of the door to try to compose herself. The door swung open before she could knock and she was confronted by him. His handsomeness took her breath away. Or what little of it she had left.

  “I heard a—Anna?”

  Before he could say anything more, she flung herself against him. The tears that had burned agonisingly in her chest fell. She buried her face against his chest, and he pulled her into his embrace.

  “There, there,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you.”

  The words were more reassuring than they should have been. For how long would he have her?

  “I found him.”

  She remained pressed against him until the tears stopped. She drew in a breath and peered up at Harris. He waited, ever patient.

  “He is happy and loved.”

  “That is good news. What shall you do now?”

  “Return home, I suppose. There is no reason for me to stay.”

  And yet, she could not help but silently beg him to give her a reason.

  He stroked her hair and eased her away from his chest to swipe away the dampness under her eyes. “You know, I’ve been meaning to take a break from London...”

  A grin forced itself across her face in spite of her wretched state. “Have you indeed?”

  “Know of anywhere a gentlemen of relatively good character might stay?”

  Her grin expanded. She might not know what the future held for them, but things were not over yet. “I may know just the place...”

  Chapter Eleven

  Anna tried to focus on the performance of La Sonnambula, really she did, but she felt as the poor heroine as she sleepwalked across a dangerous bridge, she could not help feel equally distracted. Her companion had an uncanny knack of distracting her, even when he did not try. Not to say that Harris did not occasionally.

  Throughout the evening at the theatre, his hand had slipped surreptitiously across to touch her arm or the back of her hand. He’d leaned in to say things and his breath whispered across her skin. The scent of him wrapped about her, enticing her. Not that she needed enticing.

  Stealing a glance Harris’ way, she caught his eye. A glint lingered in it. That glint promised things. Pleasure. Endless pleasure. And comfort too. Somehow, he had become a friend as well as a lover. While they might have spent much of their time in bed together, Anna also found they spent at least half of that time conversing, lying in each other’s arms, wrapped in the bubble of bliss and talking about their respective lives.

  And with their conversations, came a greater respect for the man. To be sure, he was still a scoundrel of sorts. But a good one. He cared for his family and his nieces and nephews a great deal. He tried to be a support to Ash, who suffered the affliction of severe headaches it seemed, and he was an enthusiastic rider.

  Anna could not help recall the frustration he had revealed to her at not being able to ride at present. A smile worked its way across her lips while she forced her gaze onto the actors. That he had confided such a thing in her was great indeed for a man like Harris, that much she knew. None of these men liked admitting to their weaknesses.

  Unfortunately, she had to leave tomorrow. She’d already been in London too long. He’d insisted on one last hurrah, and she’d agreed, even allowing him to persuade her to go out in public with him. Not that she was ashamed of him, of course not, but it was a bold step for her. Somehow, closing that old wound of not knowing of her son’s fate had made it easier. Having Harris at her side did that too.

  He leaned over. “Are you so very bored?”

  “Not at all,” she protested in a whisper.

  “Then stop looking at me and keep your attention on the play.”

  “How arrogant you are, what makes you think I am looking at you?”

  “I’m always aware when a beautiful woman is looking at me.”

  She wondered if he was also aware of the looks they were receiving. Although used to such looks, she was not used to having a man next to her when those icy stares were bestowed her way.

  Did they bother him? It would be common knowledge that they were lovers now. One benefit of being a fallen woman, she supposed. No one much cared if she took a lover—it was expected for her to behave sordidly after all. At least that meant they could be as public as they liked with their companionship.

  “I think I should have taken you elsewhere tonight.”

  She tapped her fan on his arm. “Nonsense, I am enjoying myself.”

  In spite of the looks and the obvious whispers, she actually was. Maybe it was the company rather than the actors, but she hadn’t attended the theatre in many years. If the behaviour of others dictated her every move, she would go nowhere, but she’d had little inclination to go to the theatre and it was on
e of the few things she did not like to do alone.

  “I just want you to be happy,” he confessed.

  That little bud of softness that seemed to grow every time he said something sweet or touched her or looked at her in a certain way blossomed further. She focused hard on it, telling it to wither.

  While she might be enjoying herself, this was only temporary. Her employees were capable, but she could not neglect Stourbridge forever.

  She slipped a look his way and saw softness in his dark gaze, echoing that bubble inside of her. Damn him. Why could he not look at her with passion instead? And why could she not resist reaching over and giving his hand a squeeze of understanding? Whatever was occurring between them was getting out of control, and she did not like that one bit.

  And, yet, she did.

  Harris had taken it upon himself to be her protector of sorts, to ease her worries by way of sharing them with her. Simply by telling him everything, she already felt freer. The stares meant even less, the whispers barely touched her. The fact she would likely be in the gossip columns as the scandalous Madame A tomorrow hardly registered. Somehow this man had quite the magic touch.

  A thrum of conversation startled her from her thoughts. Intermission. She hadn’t even noticed the curtain drop. Harris stood and motioned her out of the back of the box. “Shall we?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  A palm to her back, he walked her out past the attendant and into the bar area. They found a seat in the private saloon where only the richest attendants would be and a waiter took their order.

  “You really were not paying attention one bit were you?”

  “Forgive me. I am enjoying myself, I promise. I’m just a little distracted.”

  “I noticed. Can I do anything to help you become...undistracted?”

  She glanced over his handsome face and let her gaze land on his lips tilted in a teasing smile. “My lord, are you trying to scandalise me?”

  “Always.”

  She laughed and a few of the women, decked in the latest French fashions—heavy embroidery and an abundance of feathers—glanced their way. They swept past and the older one muttered, “They really do let any riff raff into the theatre these days, do they not?”

  Beside her, Harris stiffened. A mild pang of annoyance bounced about her insides but she had heard worse. She turned a brilliant smile on him and stroked a finger up and down his arm.

  “Thank you for bringing me here today, my lord. It has been an absolute pleasure,” she said loudly. “I’m looking forward to the pleasure continuing,” she near purred.

  She noted with a smug smile that the ladies moved with haste past them, waving their fans.

  Harris, however, did not look nearly as amused. “You need not live up to their expectations, Anna.”

  Lifting a shoulder, she took a sip of her wine. “Whatever I do or say, they will always see the worst. After all, I am only being truthful, am I not? The pleasures will continue, won’t they?”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “How can you think of such things after their treatment of you?” He glanced around in search of them but they were lost to the throng of people finding seats. “I should damn well like to give them what for. Hell, if they were men, I’d be dragging them outside.”

  Anna rested a hand upon his arm to draw his attention to her. It was nice, in a way, that he wished to defend her. No one else ever had, not even her family.

  “I have heard worse. It does not bother me, and I’m sure later tonight they shall be writhing in jealousy while they lie beside their boring, old sticks of husbands when they think about the fun I shall be having.”

  He drew in an audible breath and released it before draining his whiskey. “You have a darn sight more compassion than I do.”

  “There is no sense in getting angry over these people. I have wasted too much time on anger and bitterness.”

  “That almost sounds like an admission.”

  “Perhaps it is.”

  She eyed the polished table top for a moment. Maybe it really was. Most of her adult existence had been lived to spite everyone. Over time she had gained wealth and knowledge, and with that, power. She knew many a sordid secret—plenty of them far worse than hers.

  The bell for the next act rang, and they made their way back into the booth. Aware of the looks they garnered as they sat, Anna kept her chin lifted and imagined the gossip that would be surrounding her later.

  A smile graced her lips. Let them talk. She was content and enjoying herself for the first time in a long while. Her son would never be forgotten, but she could already sleep easier after seeing how happy he was. Perhaps she could have been an excellent mother, but it was clear he was living a wonderful life and who knew if she’d even been able to give that to him? The chances were, her family would have thrown her out onto the streets.

  Instead, she was here, healthy and, well, happy. So was her son. Throwing a glance at Harris, she let her smile expand when he gave her a look that held a wicked promise of what was to come. She was not sure what else she could ask for.

  Chapter Twelve

  Harris led Anna upstairs and pushed open the windows. A railing prevented them from tumbling out but allowed them to look out at the night sky. All his anger had gone. He hated that Anna had to tolerate behaviour like she had tonight, but she had dealt with it with amazing grace and wit.

  Of course, having her in his hold did not hurt. He wrapped his arms about her waist while she gazed up at the stars. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of her, he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck and felt the little ripple of response in her body.

  “Did you enjoy this evening?”

  “I did,” she confirmed.

  “I had thought it might have been a mistake. I’ll admit I did not think it through properly when I asked you to the theatre.”

  “Because of the gossip you mean?”

  “Yes.” He kissed her again.

  The evening, in spite of the supercilious looks and asinine comments had been thoroughly enjoyable. Anna was the perfect companion, both in bed and out. He had never considered taking lovers out and about, and he could not say what had tempted him to do so except that he had a spare ticket after Ash had abandoned him in favour of his wife. He could not imagine wanting to take anyone but Anna.

  Anna laid her hands over where his arms wrapped about her waist. His heart did a tiny flip. It was as though his insides were gradually turning to mush and as much as he wanted to be terrified by the idea of being so comfortable and content with this woman, he could not bring himself to have a single care.

  All he wanted was more of her.

  “Did the gossip bother you?”

  “Not for my sakes, no. We Cynfells are used to our fair share.”

  “Then do not worry about me either.”

  He smiled against her skin. “I will not worry about the gossips, but I reserve some right to worry about you.”

  “Why do—”

  A knock at the door made her pause. He listened for the door opening.

  “I don’t know who would be visiting this late.” He eased his arms reluctantly from around her. “I had better see who it is.”

  Anna nodded and turned her attention back to the glimmering stars.

  He stopped briefly to admire her form against the night sky. In shimmering deep blue satin and pearls, she nearly matched the sky, yet was a hundred times more beautiful. With a sigh, he turned away and headed downstairs.

  Who would be calling at this time of night? By the time he’d descended the two flights of stairs, the butler was already closing the door. He held up a note and Harris snatched it off him. An express letter at this time of night could not be good news.

  He released a long breath when he recognised the hand of Julian, the marquess and the oldest of them all. His relief was short-lived.

  “Damnation.”

  “My lord?”

  “I need my belongings packed instantly. I’ll get a carriage...
” He paused. “No, the train...”

  “There will be few running this late at night, my lord,” the butler pointed out.

  “Yes, you’re right. A carriage then to Oxford. I can catch a train from there but at least some of the journey will be done.”

  “My lord?”

  Harris glanced over the unusually scratchy writing. “It is Oliver.” He nodded at the name of his nephew. “He has consumption.”

  The words left a hollow ache in his chest. The child was the heir to the title and all their family wealth, but more than that, he was family and his nephew. He was a fine young boy, and if he died, it would leave a permanent scar on all of them.

  “Is everything well?”

  He turned to find Anna on the stairs.

  “My nephew. He is unwell. I must go to Warwickshire with haste.” She took the final few steps down, and he grasped her hand. “Forgive me, I must leave this instant. I shall make sure you have a carriage home first.”

  “I should like to come with you if I can.”

  Harris considered arguing with her. She was meant to be going back to Stourbridge soon. The last thing she needed was to be stuck in a house with the rest of his family while they fretted over Oliver. And yet...

  Yet he wanted her by his side.

  His valet and the maids did a fine job of packing his trunk with haste, and they collected Anna’s belongings from the hotel within the hour. Soon, they were on their way to Oxford. Anna said little but clasped his hand in understanding.

  After an hour or so into their journey, she fell asleep on his shoulder. He glanced at her shadowed face and allowed himself a small smile. He could not help be grateful for her company.

  Little Oliver had to survive. He had to. After all, the Cynfells were a hardy lot. They had not gone without their illnesses and scrapes, but they’d all survived. Heck. Both Ash and he had survived attempts on their lives. This young boy could beat consumption, surely?