by Jaimey Grant
Slightly alarmed by his own overly dramatic musings, he attempted to diffuse the situation.
“Were my lies any worse than yours?”
She stalked to the door. Just when he thought she would leave, she turned and stalked back. She stood before him, fists on her hips.
Shaking a finger in his face, she informed him hotly, “I was trying to protect my son. I was trying to prevent him from discovering exactly what his father was. Not to mention the fact that when it is proven that he was a traitor, we will lose everything. We will be hounded from Society, ostracized.”
“I can prevent that,” he murmured.
Stepping back—she had nearly been standing on his toes—she gave him a suspicious look. “How? I was under the impression that miracles are not of man but God.”
A funny little smile played across his lips. “Found my book, did you?” He shrugged. “I have eccentric tastes in literature.”
She shook her head impatiently. “I will not be distracted. How can you save us?”
Gideon took her hands and pulled her close. “I proposed marriage for a reason, Malvina. I suspected the truth from the start. Why else would you risk everything?” He placed both hands on her face, drawing her closer still, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I knew of your innocence from the moment I rescued you from the highwaymen. Despite everything I have ever said to you, I never thought you were willingly doing what Deverell wanted.”
“Why did you never say anything?” she asked calmly, finding his gentle touch a wonderful substitute for the indifference she’d come to expect from her late husband.
Pausing for a long, drawn-out moment, he finally replied, “I wanted you to tell me. Silly of me to wish for such a thing when you distrusted me as you did.”
Malvina closed the last few inches that separated them, forcing him to close his arms around her. They stood for a moment, each one lost in thought and the wonderful sensation of simply being held.
The mantel clock chimed midnight. Malvina jumped, knocking her head into Gideon’s chin. His teeth clacked together, causing him to curse. Malvina stifled a giggle and moved away from him.
“It is exceedingly late,” she murmured. “I should be off.”
Gideon gave her a look that she vaguely recognized. It had been years since she’d seen such an expression.
His words confirmed it. “You don’t have to leave.”
Tempted far more than she cared to admit, she nevertheless declined his offer. She was infinitely thankful that he kept his distance. Had he touched her again, she would not have been able to resist. With that thought firmly in the forefront of her mind, she fled to her own chamber.
Wolf’s insides churned every time he thought about it. It was all he could do to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged.
He had witnessed his mother leaving Lord Holt’s chamber practically in the middle of the night like a common trollop. While he was not hypocritical enough to believe his father deserved her loyalty even after death, he still felt she should have some self-respect.
It had not helped that this very morning, before anyone had risen from their beds, he had chanced to see his mother meeting another man in a clandestine manner. He had seen them at the old folly, not far from where Wolf had been walking to clear his head. He recognized the man from church. Why would his mother be meeting him?
Wolf marched to the stables at an ungodly hour, the sun just rising from its own bed. He needed to escape for a time. There were too many petticoats present for his comfort and he was becoming too attached to Lady Samantha de Witt. She was not for him. No lady was.
He did not wait for a groom to ready a mount. He saddled one himself. He didn’t even realize which one he’d selected until he mounted. It was Black, one of Holt’s personal hunters. It was the very beast that had traveled with them to Yorkshire, tied behind the carriage that conveyed Holt, Wolf, and Malvina.
The earl’s horses all had such stupid names.
Wolf didn’t care. He galloped from the stable yard with little regard for human or animal life. He headed straight for the relative loneliness of the moors. He did not notice the beauty of the heather; he did not notice the threat of the bogs.
It didn’t take long for Wolf to gallop off the majority of the rage, disgust, and disappointment he felt. He slowed to a walk, paying little attention to his surroundings.
Life wasn’t fair, he reflected. Being born into a wealthy family with a title, even a meager one, was supposed to be, on some level, a privilege. Sir Beowulf Brackney had trouble looking at his life with anything more than grim disbelief.
Black stumbled. Wolf steadied him without thought, not realizing he was wandering through a rocky area he’d never ridden with Samantha.
The late Sir Richard Brackney had been, at best, an indifferent parent. He had taken pride in little that his son had done. The few things he’d noticed in a positive way were not things for which a child should be praised.
Wolf had played terrible, cruel tricks on the housemaids and other children. His father had laughed and complimented his ingenuity.
It was his mother who prevented Wolf from falling completely under the influence of his sire. It was her gentle disapproval, her loving concern, and never failing pride in his true accomplishments that had held him together.
All appearances to the contrary, Wolf loved his mother. To see her selling herself to Lord Holt for protection made him feel physically ill. She deserved so much better.
Black stumbled again. The poor beast was trying to pick his way around a rocky outcropping and having little success. Wolf glanced around, concerned. He had not realized just how far he’d ridden or exactly where he was.
He carefully turned Black, who gratefully followed the direction. He seemed more comfortable, knowing his way home.
It was this self-assurance on the horse’s part that was Wolf’s downfall. Just when the manor came into view and Wolf released a sigh of relief, Black tripped.
The young baronet was thrown, striking his shoulder painfully on a boulder. He fought for consciousness, forcing the pain into the back recesses of his mind. It was a useful trick his father had taught him during the few times he’d decided to teach him anything.
With the pain under control, Wolf was able to take stock of his situation. He emitted a low groan when he saw Black. The poor creature lay on his side, whinnying pitifully. One glance told Wolf that the gelding’s leg was broken.
Feeling an unmanly urge to cry, Wolf slowly rose, favoring his right side from neck to waist. He moved to Black’s side and crouched down, brushing his hand over the animal’s heaving shoulder.
Stupid beast, anyway. Black should have known this area. What horse doesn’t know where not to step?
Cursing, he stood. There was nothing he could do for the animal. He was only sixteen. He was not in the habit of carrying a pistol. Unfortunately, that was the only help left for Black.
His trek back to the house was fraught with the urge to run in the opposite direction and never return. He messed up again and he did not look forward to whatever punishment the earl felt was appropriate for killing his horse.
Malvina saw him coming. She had spent hours searching for him, intent on telling him they were to leave for London early the following morning.
After returning from her morning meeting with Lord Delwyn, at which she’d handed over the document as ordered, the earl had confided his need to speak with his superiors at the Home Office. A little relieved to be able to leave, Malvina had readily agreed.
She ventured outside again, not sure what drew her attention to the north. On the edge of the park, she could see the figure of her son, cradling his right shoulder. He stumbled as she watched, and almost fell.
She drew in a sharp breath. Her heart constricted and jumped into her throat. When Wolf fell to his knees, she screamed.
Malvina didn’t even realize she was running until she tripped, tearing her skirts and scraping her leg. She p
ushed herself back to her feet and kept on.
She couldn’t form a coherent thought as she ran. All she could see was her child hurt, broken.
“Wolf!”
He looked up. His blue eyes shimmered with tears and Malvina felt her own fill up. She had not seen her son cry since he was but a boy. He hadn’t even shed a tear the night his father died.
She fell to her knees beside him, reaching for him. “Wolf, what happened?”
“I was thrown.”
“Are you hurt? What happened to your arm?”
“My shoulder is bruised,” he told her, rolling the appendage with a grimace of pain. “I hit a rock.”
Relieved that his injuries seemed minor, she allowed her tension to ease a bit. Her relief was short-lived, however, when she realized his horse was missing. A shiver of unease consumed her. “Where is the horse?”
A single tear escaped. “He is back there,” Wolf said, tipping his head in the direction from which he’d come.
“Oh, Wolf, what have you done?”
People arrived. Servants, stable hands, and family rushed to them, everyone asking questions at once and demanding answers.
Lady Samantha flopped down beside her friend and tried to take his hand. He resisted her touch, an action that alarmed Malvina more than it should have. The young lady, however, merely shrugged and continued to sit beside him, offering her undemanding support.
Malvina felt Gideon’s presence behind her. He stooped down and looked the boy over, grunting when he was satisfied that Wolf would survive.
“Why would you ride over terrain you do not know?” he asked, his voice laced with a concern that Wolf had only ever received from his mother.
“I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted, confused by the solicitude of this man. “I was angry.”
“Where is your mount?” Gideon looked up at the stable master. “Has the beast returned home?”
“Nay, milord,” ventured the man hesitantly. “The young master took Black.”
Gideon’s face froze. He speared the hapless Wolf with hard eyes. “Where is Black?”
Samantha leaned away from him, her soft brown eyes unusually hard. “Why do they have such stupid names?” Wolf blurted unwisely, his guilt and embarrassment speaking.
“Where is Black?”
Malvina saw her son’s miserable expression mingle with a look that heralded a loss of temper. She spoke up, seeking to avoid bloodshed.
“Back that way, Gideon.”
Wolf was man enough to meet Gideon’s eyes as the older man straightened. The earl said nothing and held out his hand. A pistol, primed and ready to fire, was slapped into his palm.
For a heart-stopping second, Malvina thought he meant to use the weapon on her son. She opened her mouth to object, positioned herself to shield her child, but ended by saying nothing as Gideon stalked off.
Minutes later—it felt like hours—a gunshot was heard. Malvina wrapped her arms around Wolf and he buried his face in her neck, reminding her painfully of the child he once was. They all waited on tenterhooks, apprehension a palpable entity.
The stable hands moved in the direction of the shot, knowing it would be their task to take care of Black’s remains. They each tugged their forelock as the earl came past, the stable master receiving the spent weapon.
Malvina watched Gideon move, her heart wrenching at the pain she saw in his eyes. He glanced at her once, accusingly, but never slowed. They watched him go, unsurprised when he veered off to the stables.
Samantha stood, her movements a little less graceful than usual. Tears stood out in her eyes, her scarred visage flushed. “That was very bad of you, Wolf. Giddy has few attachments. Black was the one above all others.”
She stepped carefully around him, holding her skirts away as if he was diseased. “I will bid you adieu now, Lady Malvina, Sir Beowulf. Have an uneventful journey.”
His forehead creased in confusion, Wolf shrugged out of his mother’s embrace. “What in hell is Sam talking about?”
Malvina winced. “Language, darling.” She reached out to smooth a lock of dark red hair from his brow. He flinched away as if she were about to strike him.
Her hand dropped, a forlorn expression touching her delicate features. “I am so sorry for everything, Wolf,” she whispered. “I should have helped you when—”
“There was nothing you could do, Mother,” he interrupted, not willing to have the discussion she wanted. He stood, unwillingly allowing his mother to help. “I did what I had to, eventually. The matter is not to be mentioned again.”
A little stunned by the adult she could see in the eyes of her baby, all Malvina could do was nod. She put her arm through his and together, they moved to the house, the two of them against the world.
As usual.
They left the following morning. Lady Samantha had already said her goodbyes to the Brackneys and only appeared to tell her brother to be safe. He hesitated for a moment before drawing her to him and embracing her warmly.
“I’ll miss you, Sammy. Take care of Mother.”
“Do not stay away so long this time, Giddy. This mausoleum is not the same without you.”
He smiled. “Hardly that, Sam.” He saw the yearning in her eyes and promised, “I will send for you to come to us for the Season. If you still want one.”
“Of course I do.” Her brow furrowed. “Us?”
His eyebrows rose. “I will be married by then. Naturally, your visit will be with my wife and I. And her son.”
“You will still marry Lady Malvina?”
Gideon glanced to the carriage where his betrothed and his soon-to-be stepson were waiting. Nodding, he turned back to this sister. “I will. What Wolf did was stupid and thoughtless and ended badly. But he needs a father more than I needed Black.”
Samantha’s lips trembled. “Do you think you can help him?”
“I hope so.”
“Mama and I cannot attend your wedding?” Her tone suggested hurt.
Gideon shook his head. “Do you believe Mama would? She refused to say goodbye because she is angry I even brought Malvina here. As much as I would love to have you there, it will not do.”
“And there is that other business you have to finish,” Samantha said, her clear brown eyes indicating her knowledge of more than was safe for her to know. “I never did trust Lord Delwyn, Giddy. He is oily, like a toad. Do be careful.”
“Toads are not oily.”
Samantha rolled her eyes at her brother. “You know what I mean. He’s sneaky and untrustworthy.”
“You know nothing, Sammy,” he said implacably. “Stay out of trouble and select a good mount for Wolf. It is to be our gift to him.”
She was visibly shocked. “You would give him a horse after what he did to Black? It is all well and good trying to save him from himself, Giddy, but to allow him to hurt another animal is just…just—”
He stopped her, gently taking her hand. “He will learn to care for something other than himself. He is spoiled and selfish and bitterly angry. He needs responsibility.” At her continued look of disbelief, he added, “I will watch him, Sam. Do not fret.”
Lady Malvina and her son watched the two as they spoke. “What is she telling him, do you think?” Wolf asked.
“Nothing to concern us,” his mother said automatically.
Wolf snorted. “Sure,” he scoffed. “She is probably convincing him to murder us along the road.”
“He will not agree,” Malvina murmured, not denying the possibility of Samantha’s words.
“I would not blame him at all if he did,” her son reluctantly confided in an undertone.
Malvina sat mum for several seconds. Then, “Why did you do it, Wolf?”
He shrugged and turned his face away. She thought he would not reply when he muttered, “I saw you leave his room.”
Her fingers spasmed in her lap. “You did?” He nodded. “Well, I am sure you are mature enough to realize your mother is a grown woman, free to remarry
.”
He grunted. “You are not married, Mother. Just because you are engaged does not mean he has the right to treat you as his doxy.”
Her face flamed. “Language, Wolf,” she remonstrated. “Your father would not begrudge me another chance at happiness.”
She jumped at the short bark of laughter her son felt compelled to release. “That is rich, Mother! Father would come back and beat you if he wasn’t licking Satan’s boots in hell.”
Donning the sternest expression she could muster, she said, “I know your feelings for your father are not of the fondest. But he is dead now and deserves forgiveness for his sins.”
Wolf just looked at her. His expression was completely blank, blue eyes devoid of emotion. In a frighteningly steady voice, he told her, “Father has not paid nearly enough for his sins. He can burn in hell for a thousand lifetimes and still not pay for his sins.”
She surprised him. “I’m not at all sure anyone burns in hell, my love.”
He sat back, refusing to enter into a debate with her.
Lady Malvina released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Gideon kissed his sister on the cheek and moved to the coach. He stepped in and sat beside Malvina in the forward facing seat.
He didn’t smile or give any indication that he’d forgiven Wolf for Black’s death. He didn’t even glance Malvina’s way. He simply rapped on the roof with his stick.
“Do we travel straight through?” Malvina ventured cautiously.
“No, indeed. I am a gentleman, after all.”
His response was not satisfying in the least, but she saw the wisdom in allowing him some peace. Black’s death had affected him greatly.
“Why the names?”
“What names?” Gideon murmured, his voice taking on the lazy shield he donned when feeling threatened.
“The dam… dashed horses. Why do you choose such nonsensical monikers?”
Inwardly, Malvina groaned at her imprudent son’s query. Could he not have chosen a more sensible subject? Better yet, why could he not have kept his mouth firmly shut?
