by Tinnean
There was a dead weight on my hands; Arabella had fallen in a faint. “Bloody hell!” I released her in disgust, tempted to pour the vase of water over the wretched chit’s head.
“Sir, I’ll thank you to remember there are ladies present!”
Aunt Cecily rushed to Arabella’s side, sinking to her knees and taking the girl into her arms. “Oh, my dear child,” she murmured brokenly. “Did you not hear a word I said? It was I! I had to do something once I’d learned Sir Eustace had used up all my boys’ inheritance!”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. “You… you used the Laytham talisman for….” Outsiders? I dropped down into a chair and pulled out a handkerchief to mop at the blood on my face. I’d lost opportunities to mingle with my peers, had turned Sir Eustace’s ire to me in order to spare her, and she’d….
“You must understand, Ashton. You would have Fayerweather and Laytham Hall. But my boys—they would have nothing!”
“But the Flame was not yours to give away or sell!”
“I’m afraid he’s correct in that, m’dear.” It seemed as if Mr. Stephenson might well choke on those words.
Aunt Cecily disregarded us both. She continued to rock Arabella. “I couldn’t permit my friend’s sons to be cast into penury because I was married to an improvident monster! Sir Eustace used up my dowry before we’d returned from our bride trip. Ashton, your inheritance hardly lasted beyond your first year here. What my boys brought… it wasn’t much, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. I had no choice! Surely you must see that!” The expression on my face must have told her otherwise. “I… er… I did use some of the money toward the farms.”
Because she’d felt guilty?
“And I did offer to give you… but you refused….”
“I thought it was your dower, and how could I take that from you?” Oh, dear God, £10,000! “Is there anything left?”
“Perhaps £1000.” She saw my expression and blanched and shrank away. “Eustace, please!”
“I am not—” I knew if I was compared to Sir Eustace one more time, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions. “Pray excuse me.” Fury in my every step, I stalked out of the house.
A phaeton was whisking its way up the curving drive, but I was in no fit mood to see neighbors. Colling would have to turn away anyone paying morning calls. That was what butlers were for—denying the family when the household was in disarray.
I made my way toward the stable, where I’d always found solace.
How could they mistake me for Sir Eustace? Granted, there was a passing physical resemblance—all Laythams had the slashing black eyebrows no matter the color of their hair, and of course, there was the mark we bore on our forearms—but I was no more like Sir Eustace than I was like… like Robert Hood!
In the stable yard, Dickon was leading a saddled mount in a tight circle, trying to keep the big mare from dancing out of her skin.
The horse wasn’t one of ours. She was tossing her head in irritation. Her ears were laid back, and she tested the groom’s control of her, trying to get the bit between her teeth so she could bolt free.
The very thing! A mount who wasn’t accustomed to me!
It wasn’t well done of me, but I tore the reins from Dickon’s hands and flung myself into the saddle.
I should put on a pair of riding boots, but that would entail returning to the manor house, and I wasn’t about to do that.
I barely had time to get my feet into the stirrups before the restive animal gathered herself and leaped forward in a tremendous bound that saw her at an extended gallop that covered the cobblestoned stable yard within two strides.
“Sir Ashton!”
“Wait!”
I heard the cries, but I ignored them. The mare was one of the fastest I’d ever ridden, and wind whipped tears from my eyes.
And then I realized my anger had simply masked my grief; I was weeping—for the loss of someone I had once thought I’d loved, but more for the love I now had to accept that my family would never have for me.
Why had I ever thought anyone could love me?
Geo… oh, he was fond enough of me, but fondness wasn’t love. And I was being a maudlin fool. I brushed impatiently at the tears with my forearm.
I could hear the clatter of hoofs behind, but they meant nothing to me. I let the mare have her head, and our pursuers were left to watch our heels.
White-paneled fences sprang up before us. Stiles and hedges, all a blur, did their best to slow us down. With hands and voice and heels I urged her on, not caring we might be facing some nasty spills.
The mare began to tire, and that was the only thing that saved the small figure that darted out from the hedge. I yanked on the reins, throwing off my mount’s stride. She reared back, overbalancing herself, and we both went down.
“Sir Ash! Oh, Sir Ash! Pray don’t be dead!”
“Young Burt?”
“Yes, sir. I’m… I’m so sorry!”
I blinked, trying to clear my vision, then cried out as the mare struggled to regain her footing and her weight rolled onto my leg.
“Sir Ash. Sir Ash!” The boy stroked fingers over my face, and tears fell to my cheek.
“’M all… all right, Burt.” Beneath my ear I could feel the vibrations of approaching horses, but by the time they arrived, I was unconscious.
My body throbbed and my head ached like the very devil. Well, this was what I got for letting my temper run away with me. I opened my eyes. There was meager sunlight coming through the curtains, but it was enough to stab into my eyeballs, oversetting my delicate stomach.
With a moan I rolled toward the edge of the bed. Long fingers caught my head, and a basin was placed beneath it before I could cast up my accounts all over the bare feet that were beside my bed.
“Deuce take it!” I muttered. I’d always loathed vomiting, and I kept my eyes closed in hopes my stomach would settle.
“As you say, Ashton.”
“Geo? Thought you were in the Americas.”
“I’m home.” His voice was shaky; there was also amusement in it as he poured out the contents of the basin—no doubt into the chamber pot, but I had no desire to open my eyes to see if that was correct.
And then, in spite of myself, I had to open my eyes. It had been almost five months since I’d seen him last.
“Geo?” All I saw of my lover was a blur.
“Yes?” He slid my spectacles over my nose, and I blinked to bring him into focus.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m home,” he repeated. Gentle hands pressed me back against the pillows and tenderly brushed the hair off my forehead.
“When did you…?” The sight of him distracted me from what I was going to say, so rarely had I seen him in shirtsleeves.
I observed him more closely. The lines at the corners of his eyes seemed to have deepened. His hair stood in uneven spikes, he was unshaven, and dark bruises ringed his eyes. “Good lord, Geo! You look dreadful!”
“Not half as dreadful as you do, lamb!” His mouth curved in a rueful grin. “What have they done to you?” He fingered the scratches that Arabella had gouged into my cheek.
“They… the Hoods are gone. John. Robert. No one knows where William is, so he might as well be dead. Needless to say, Arabella feels the fault is mine.”
“And that was why you took a strange mount and nearly rode yourself into the ground?”
“The mare!” How could I have forgotten her? “How is she? She took a spill….” I frowned, trying to remember the events that had led up to it.
“The mare is none the worse for wear, according to Ruston.”
“I don’t know what possessed me to take her. She’s truly taken no hurt? She came down rather hard.”
“Didn’t I say as much? Ruston also says her owner was so impressed by the mare’s performance that he’s going to have her trained for polo rather than put her up for sale to some unsuspecting fool, as he’d intended.”
“Po
lo?”
“It’s a game played with cane sticks and balls made from bamboo roots.”
“Bamboo roots?”
“It’s quite a popular game in India.”
The fall must have rattled my wits. “Why would Colonel Whittemore care to train his mare for that? Is he leaving the country?” But no, there was the matter of the chestnut he’d purchased in hopes of winning Miss Petre.
Geo looked confused.
“What I mean to say is I thought Colonel Whittemore was her owner.”
“No, it’s the Colonel’s nephew. I understand he’s a military man himself.”
“Ned? Is he back in Surrey?”
Geo frowned. “How do you know Ned Moore?”
“We… er… met last year.”
“Oh?” Geo’s voice was colder than a mid-winter night. Was he jealous? He’d never… but his tone….
I hugged that possibility to myself. It might prove to be utter nonsense, but for a time I could warm myself with the hope. “Apparently Moore wanted Ruston to evaluate the animal before his regiment sailed for India.”
“He’s leaving England? How does the Colonel feel about that?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.” Abruptly he changed the subject. “The boy has been feeling wretched.”
“Who?”
“The boy you almost ran down? Do you even know who he is?”
There was derision in his voice, and I felt the color drain from my cheeks. A handful of moments. That was all the time I’d had to hope.
“His name is Burt Johnson,” I said tonelessly. “He’s five years old. You’re right. I could have—”
“Ash, I’m sorry. There was no need for me to rip up at you like that. I was… I didn’t like the idea of you seeing Ned Moore.”
“I only met him the one time, Geo.” I stroked his cheek. Colonel Whittemore hadn’t seemed anxious for our paths to cross, although he and I had on occasion spoken of horseflesh. “I didn’t even know his surname.”
Geo turned his head to my palm and pressed a kiss to it. “I’m sorry,” he said yet again. “The thought that you might have found another while I was gone….”
“But you told me I couldn’t,” I dared to tease, dared to hope once more. “No, no, don’t kiss me!”
“Why not? Oh, because you vomited? Well, then, that can be remedied.” He poured some liquid into a glass from the bottle that was on the bedside table. “Here. Take a swallow.”
I did as he bid and then raised my face and waited expectantly.
“Ah, Ash. I have missed you.”
“I’ve missed you also. Thank you for your letters. They were—”
His lips were warm, and I leaned into his kiss. It had been such a while…. But then he drew back.
“No, you’re not to distract me. Ashton, Jem said you were riding neck or nothing. He was terrified you’d break your neck.”
“I’m sure it was a huge disappointment to everyone when I didn’t.”
He moved so fast that I found him looming above me. His fingers were tight on my shoulders, and he gave me a shake. I held my breath, uncertain if that action would drive my stomach toward upheaval.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry! Do you need the basin?”
“No.” I breathed shallowly, then sighed in relief. “No, I’m quite all right.” He shook me again. “I say!”
“I was terrified you’d broke your neck!”
“Were you?” I raised my palm to his cheek again and murmured, “You need to shave,” and the look he cast my way was exasperated. “They blame me, you know. At least Arabella does. She’s positive I took the Flame of Diabul, even though I was standing beside her the entire time. Neither Aunt Cecily nor your father seemed inclined to take my part—”
“That never bothered you before.”
“Because I never permitted them to be aware of how they’d hurt me?” I bit my lip. I was a man, and head of the household. I didn’t want Geo to see me as a whining member of the infantry. “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, lamb.” Geo settled himself beside me on the bed again, and I rested my head on his shoulder.
“What was young Burt doing in that part of the estate?”
“He and his friends were playing Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men.”
“Oh?” I felt my heart sink. “And who was Burt?”
“Why, Robin Hood! Who did you think?”
“I was always made to be the Sheriff of Nottingham or Guy of Gisbourne.”
“What, always?” A dark flush colored his cheeks. “It’s a pity John and Robert Hood are already dead. I should like nothing better than to plant them both a facer!”
“Geo, is it possible William survived?” I cradled the pleasure of his defense to me, but knew better than to express my gratitude aloud.
“More than possible.” He tipped my chin up and studied my eyes for a moment. “The reason why I went to America was to discover the brothers’ whereabouts and wrest the Flame from them.”
“But why?”
“Don’t you know? For you!”
“Truly?” I rubbed my cheek against his hand, where it rested on my shoulder.
“Well, certainly not for me! I’d heard their praises sung from the time they came to live here; I bloody well could have lived without meeting the paragons in the flesh!”
“Perfection gets tiring, doesn’t it? So you learned that they’re dead?”
“Robert and John are. William is alive, and I’ve brought him back to England. He didn’t have the Flame.”
“No, he’d traded it for a horse to return to his brothers.”
Geo looked startled.
“Your father told us.”
He shook his head, murmuring something as he dropped a kiss in my hair, then sighed. “I’m loath to be the one to tell you this, but the stone is still missing.”
“What matter if it’s paste?”
“What?”
“Aunt Cecily said as much.”
“They have been busy, haven’t they?” He didn’t sound pleased. “Well—”
“Although I must say I fail to see what Robert hoped to gain by absconding with it.”
“Apparently Hood had been aware from the start of the matter that Lady Cecily had sold the Flame to a wealthy American via his agent. According to the letter he wrote her, he was in the cupboard in the playroom—something about searching for a toy soldier to bury—and overheard the entire affair.”
“The playroom?” I imagined that made some sort of sense. It was out of the way, and it was unlikely the servants would have intruded on them. “But when was this?”
“Almost twelve years ago. The duplicate of the Flame was given her at the same time.”
And of course Robert never breathed a word of it to anyone, not even his beloved brothers.
“But then Sir Eustace managed to have the entail broken.” I recalled how pale Aunt Cecily had become the night the Flame was taken, when the message arrived from Sir Eustace stating his intention of selling the Flame.
“Yes. Hood knew that it would go ill with Lady Cecily.”
As it did in spite of Robert’s action.
“And so Robert staged the theft.”
“And went haring off to retrieve the real Flame.”
My shoulders slumped. “Yes, that’s precisely what he would do. Ah, Geo, you must be so very disappointed.”
“Wh… why? Ashton, what are you talking about?”
“I’d never do anything to compare with Robert’s gesture.” Truth to tell, I’d been too wary of Sir Eustace to do much that would draw his attention to me.
Geo said nothing, staring at me as if he’d never beheld me before, and I felt my heart sink. Of course he had come to… to have some affection for me, but to have it made plain what a coward I was…. I waited for him to tell me he was leaving, that he’d never return, that the debt could go hang.
Finally, he spoke. “Let me see if I have this correct. You would never ma
ke off with a counterfeit jewel or attempt to retrieve the original.”
“No.”
“However, what you would do is take on a whipping that would have left Lady Cecily seriously injured. You would remain behind to look to the welfare of your people. You would shoulder a debt left by a dissolute bounder.”
