Christ, Merrick was beginning to feel it and he’d done nothing at all.
The constable gave him a curt wave. “You have a good evening, my lord.” He said nothing to Chloe, merely gave her a disapproving glance, and then left.
“Well,” Chloe said, her head still down, “that was rather awkward.”
“You’ve no need to worry, Chloe. Trust me, and everything will be fine.”
Chloe nodded, but wouldn’t look at him.
He drew her closer to him, squeezing gently. “Do you trust me, Chloe?”
She turned to look at him, then, and her eyes were glistening dark pools.
Merrick’s heart twisted at the sight of her tears. He leaned forward to kiss them away.
“Trust me,” he whispered, and held her tightly as he spurred the mount away.
The following morning, while Merrick saw the constable to his carriage, Fiona waited for her son to return to the drawing room. She shuddered over the risks he was taking—both with his own life and with that of Chloe’s.
She must find a way to make things right in this house—before everything fell to pieces.
She was furious at Ian for jeopardizing the reputation of a decent young woman. Fiona wanted them together, certainly, but she wanted it to be for the right reasons. She’d hoped Ian would see the things Fiona saw in Chloe.
From a distance she’d watched Chloe grow from a child to a woman. As a little girl, Chloe had been a solitary little thing. Her father had kept her always by his side, tutoring her in the miracles of medicine. In this dwindling town, Chloe had seemed to fit nowhere—much like Ian and for many of the same reasons. But Ian had sneaked away like the mischievous boy to play with the tenant’s children, while Chloe had been ensconced within her little house.
Fiona sighed.
Ian was still playing with the tenant’s children, she feared. And the game was still the same, save that the consequences were far more dire. And she hadn’t the least notion why she and her son skirted the topic when each of them knew very well what was at play.
Tapping her fingers impatiently upon her invalid chair as she awaited Ian’s return, she determined that she was going to give her son a long overdue thrashing. She simply would not allow him to abuse Chloe’s reputation—or her heart.
There had already been enough heartache suffered in this house.
“Ian,” she said when he walked into the drawing room. “Please close the door.” She had never spoken to him so harshly, not even as a child, but everything was at risk now.
Everything.
He lifted his brows, giving her that sardonic expression that reminded Fiona far too much of his father, but he did as she bade him and sauntered into the room. He fell back into the settee, looking weary. He regarded her curiously.
“I insist! You must wed Chloe at once!” she told him. And she meant it. “It was absolutely ungentlemanly of you to put her in such an imprudent position!” Among other veiled accusations, the constable had claimed that Chloe had been covered in weeds and that her hair and clothing had been mussed and dirty. While Tolly would keep his tongue over the matter, his men doubtless would not.
Merrick’s brows lifted higher. “You’re afraid for her reputation and yet you encouraged the evening at the cottage?” he countered much too calmly.
“Yes, but a private meal together in a romantic mise en scène is hardly the same as a public roll in the grass!” She hated to be so vulgar about it, but it was what it was. “I did not bring Chloe into this house solely as my attendant. The truth is I felt obliged to bring her into my care, as well. After all, she is the daughter of a longtime friend. You may not feel any duty toward her, but I certainly do!”
He remained silent, listening intently.
Fiona reasoned with him. “There isn’t much I request of you, Ian. We both know you travel your own path. But in this matter I put my foot down. You will not abuse her.”
He said nothing, merely looked at her, and placed a finger to his mouth as though he were considering her argument.
“Ian,” she reasoned, softening her tone. “I realize how you feel about marrying until after you’ve inherited. But if you wait until then, it will be far too late for Chloe. I beg of you to consider her well-being in this matter.”
“So you want me to wed her now?” he repeated, sounding a little aghast at the notion.
Fiona straightened in her chair, cursing herself that she should be trapped by her own lies. God’s truth, she couldn’t wait to get into the privacy of her own room so that she could dance and run about like a madwoman.
“Yes, I do,” she replied without hesitation, and tried to calm herself, knowing it would gain her little to push Ian too far. He was strong-headed, like his father. “I know you feel frustrated by the fact that you’ve no control in this estate—as yet. I know you must feel an impostor with no land to accompany your title, but you must trust me. Someday everything will be returned to you.” Once she was dead and Julian no longer felt the need to bind her to him. Fiona’s heart squeezed painfully. Though she wouldn’t be alive to see it, she dreaded the day Ian would discover the truth. And he would, she feared, because once she was gone, Julian had sworn to return Glen Abbey Manor to Ian.
Once he knew the truth, Ian would never forgive her, she knew.
Merrick nodded, listening, his narrow-eyed expression somehow an accusation in itself. “In the meantime we live on the meager earnings of poor folks who can scarce afford to feed their young?” he suggested.
Fiona frowned at him, hating the way the truth sounded.
“Where do the rest of the funds go, Mother?” he persisted. “Why do you not allow me access to the books? Why does Edward dole out paltry allowances?”
Fiona winced at his questions. “Why must we go through this yet again? Someday, Ian—though you’ll not like what you discover—you will have complete control of this land and this house and you may do whatever you wish at that time. Give away the tenants’s lands, have them all move into Glen Abbey Manor, do what you will… But until then, I ask only that you respect my wishes and my privacy.”
Merrick listened intently, restraining the temper that was smoldering inside him like a combustible flame. It was the first opportunity he’d had since arriving at Glen Abbey Manor to gain the answers he sought. He wasn’t about to let the opportunity go. But the more he heard, the angrier it made him.
Not only had his own life been a miserable pack of lies, but his brother had obviously lived the life of a pawn in his own home. It was no wonder Ian had taken matters into his own hands. It humbled him to hear the things his mother thought Ian might do with his inheritance. If, in truth, she believed those things, then Fiona was right about him. His brother was a good and decent man.
“In the meantime,” he persisted, “am I to remain the puppet master of this house?”
The woman who had abandoned him had no answer to that question.
He pressed her. “Am I to allow the townsfolk to believe I am willing to drain them of their last coin just to satisfy the needs of this estate?”
“Ian,” his mother said, her voice pleading. He hadn’t meant to make her cry, but her eyes grew misty. Still, she held her head up proudly, meeting his gaze. Merrick didn’t know whether to feel pity or pride in her reaction. At the heart of the matter was the simple fact that he didn’t know her at all. She hadn’t allowed him that opportunity.
Why had she chosen Ian over him?
Once again, a wave of envy came over him regarding the brother he didn’t know. Though it was ridiculous considering that Merrick had grown up with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth and his brother had obviously been tossed the scraps from his table.
His father had long ago handed over the finances to Merrick, but Merrick had never once seen a single reference to Glen Abbey upon the ledgers. Whatever money the estate made through rents or investments did not go into the royal coffers, so the question remained…where did the funds go?
Not into the house, nor toward its mistress, that much was certain. His mother’s gown—as were all the gowns she’d worn in his presence—was quite modest. Unlike the royal palace in Meridian, the house had very few servants. And he knew of a certainty that Ian didn’t have access to a single copper.
Which left only one possibility.
Merrick’s nostrils flared with anger.
Edward.
But how to prove it when he didn’t have access to the books?
It was evident his mother was too afraid to stir the pot, lest Ian discover the truth. Merrick might loathe what Fiona had done but he believed that she was a good woman.
She started to weep in earnest and she shook her head. Her hand covered trembling lips. “I just cannot bear it that you will know my sins,” she confessed, her tone full of heartbreak.
Merrick wanted to say that he already knew her sins.
Now what he wanted to know was why she had committed them.
I fear I’ve damaged the lives of many, but you must believe that I deeply regret the course of my actions…
His father’s written words came back to him suddenly. I fear I’ve damaged…my actions… Not we.
Piece by piece, the puzzle was assembling before him. It was a hideous monstrosity that made him close his eyes in pain.
Chapter Sixteen
Outside the door to the drawing room, Chloe paused before knocking. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but she’d heard her name and couldn’t help herself.
Hearing their discourse had somehow left her feeling emptier than she’d ever felt in her life. Even after her father’s death she hadn’t felt so utterly hopeless. She swallowed the knot that rose in her throat and turned from the door.
Her first thought was to leave this place. But no—where would she go?
Besides, it wasn’t her way to run away from anything. Her father had always told her that it was best to face the world with one’s head held high and to carry on proudly through life’s trials.
So what if Ian didn’t wish to wed her.
She already knew that much.
That she had allowed her heart to soften was her own fault. Still, she couldn’t regret what she’d done last night, because she’d done it, not out of blind love, but because Hawk had deserved her protection. Though it was difficult for her to reconcile what she thought she’d known about Lord Lindale and what she knew about Hawk, he was still the man she had so greatly admired. And now, he was even more a hero in her eyes, because it was evident that he risked himself completely for the sake of others.
She’d heard his grief over the treatment of their people and it was palpable.
She made her way toward the garden, needing a breath of fresh air to clear her mind. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused them. She made her way along the pathway and sat upon a bench near Lady Fiona’s rose garden.
Nothing had changed in her life, she assured herself. She was still the same person, with the same dreams. She had never wanted a husband anyway.
Why should that suddenly change?
His kisses alone were not the source of her affection for him—nor was it the way he made her body feel. She had long ago fallen in love with the heart of the man known by all as Hawk. Now that he had a face and a name, and she knew him for what he was, she could not turn her heart away from him.
He was, indeed, kind and compassionate. He was generous, noble and brave.
Chloe hadn’t the first notion how long she sat there before she felt his presence, but suddenly he was there.
He sat beside her upon the bench.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” she said stiffly, crossing her hands upon her lap.
She hardened her heart against him.
He set his hand atop hers and the simple touch disarmed her at once. Tears pricked at her eyes. “No need for formalities between us, Chloe.”
Chloe lifted her chin and tilted him a glance, willing away the flood of emotion that threatened to overcome her composure. “What, then, shall I call you, my lord?”
He seemed genuinely perplexed by the question.
He just sat there, staring at their combined hands piled carelessly atop her lap.
For a moment Merrick was unable to answer.
What should she call him, indeed.
He wasn’t Ian and he couldn’t reveal himself as Merrick. Nor did it please him for her to continue to call him my lord. He laughed softly. “You seemed to have had plenty else to call me before now,” he said lightly, teasing her. “Selfish, arrogant, spoiled,” he suggested a few. “Shall I continue?”
She peered up at him and gave him a reluctant smile. “I no longer believe those things, my lord.”
“Ah,” he countered, “because suddenly I am beloved, kind, compassionate, generous, charitable, noble and brave,” he said, repeating the things she’d once recited about Hawk.
She laughed softly and the sweet sound of it completely enchanted him. “You’ve a great recollection, my lord. Have you committed everything I’ve said to memory?”
“Yes,” Merrick answered honestly. He smiled at her. “I live for your every word, don’t you realize?”
It was true.
He spent every waking moment that he wasn’t with her recalling their conversations and musing over Chloe’s perspective of the world. She was witty and intelligent. She was beautiful and kind. Through her eyes, he had learned to see his brother for who he was and even to respect him.
It was a gift he could never repay.
Chloe made him want to be a better man.
She lifted a delicate brow. “I rather doubt that,” she said.
“But it’s true,” Merrick assured her.
“My lord, you scarce even spoke to me before a week ago.”
Merrick squeezed her hand. “Then I was a fool,” he told her, and meant it. Whatever else Ian might be, he was certainly a fool if he had not seen the treasure sitting right beneath his very nose.
“Come,” he said. “Let us walk together.” He tugged gently at her hand, dragging her to her feet.
“It’s really not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. I want to show you something,” he told her, his tone brooking no argument. He crooked her arm through his own and led her through the garden toward the aviary.
“It seems you haven’t been here much lately,” Chloe commented as they entered the bird sanctuary.
In fact, Merrick had only seen it from a distance. Inside, it was well kept, he noted, but held very few birds—two gyrfalcons, a peregrine and an old saker. Like Merrick’s, its color was almost white, a rarity for its breed. He went directly toward it and reached out to fondle its feathers. The falcon peered at his hand curiously.
“Sakers are the favored birds of Oriental and Arab falconers. Their hunting is far less hurried and impulsive than other falcons, but when it finds what it wants, it goes after it with deadly precision.”
Like the bird perched before him, it had taken Merrick a long time to find his heart, and now that he had, he wasn’t going to let her go so easily.
“Really?” she said, her tone genuinely curious. She reached out tentatively to touch the bird and then changed her mind. “Have you always kept falcons?”
“Always,” he replied, and it was the truth. He suspected Ian had, as well. “For a time, I would even sneak the bird into my room and perch it upon my bedpost.” He laughed softly at the memory. “The maids didn’t like that very much,” he admitted. “And it was overall not a very sanitary practice.”
Chloe stifled a small laugh. He wanted to make her laugh again, see that laughter reach her eyes. While she was feisty and full of life, one thing he hadn’t recalled from her since meeting her was a true smile.
“I’m certain Edna had quite a lot to say about that,” Chloe commented.
“Edna?” he asked.
“You don’t remember?”
Merrick shook his head.
“Has much of it returned?”
M
errick answered honestly, “I see much more than I wish I did. Tell me, Chloe…my mother and your father…they knew each other a long time?”
Chloe peered up at him, smiling. “Yes. In fact, my mother used to complain that my father spent more time wiping your nose than he did mine.” She laughed softly. “Lady Fiona was…shall we say…a rather doting mother.”
Unarmed by her disclosure, Merrick raked a hand over his face. She couldn’t have known that his mother had never doted upon him a moment in her life.
“She must have summoned my father every time you skinned your knee.” A sparkle came into her eyes as she revealed, “I’m afraid my father thought you were a mischievous little imp.”
Merrick had to smile at that. Apparently it was something he and Ian had in common. Ryo had often rebuked him for the same.
“I have to confess that I rather agreed,” Chloe told him. “I only saw you in church, but you never behaved and I didn’t particularly like you,” she confessed.
Merrick chuckled. “Not much has changed, I suppose.”
They shared a meaningful look.
“I no longer feel that way.”
Merrick tested the bird’s patience, reaching out to gently touch its head. It responded calmly, with just a quick fluttering of its wings. A small white feather floated to the ground. Merrick bent to retrieve it. He handed it to Chloe.
“Soft,” she purred.
Like her skin, Merrick thought.
Warm velvet.
His body convulsed at the memory of her silky flesh beneath his fingertips. He yearned to touch her again. He wanted to touch her like that for the rest of his days.
He hoped Chloe would bear him sons and daughters. He wanted a houseful…a little brood like Rusty’s that would swing on his coattails and wipe their dirty little hands on his pant legs.
He didn’t need Fiona to tell him to do the right thing by Chloe. He wanted to make things right.
He took her by the hand and turned to face her, hoping she would see the sincerity in his eyes. “Chloe,” he began.
It Happened One Night: Six Scandalous Novels Page 75
