by Cheryl Holt
Charles marched over, grabbed him by his shirt, and lifted him off his feet. He pulled him up until they were nose to nose. “Go now! Don’t make me tell you twice.”
Charles flung him away. Periwinkle staggered, then straightened. He grinned at Charles and said, “People are eager to read about their betters. I could pen a very sympathetic story—about both of you.”
Charles didn’t waste his breath answering. He simply spun away, took Miss Carstairs’s arm, and they went into the house. He didn’t glance back.
“You’re distraught,” Lord Roland said. “Would you like a glass of sherry? Would it soothe your nerves?”
Libby smiled at him. “I can’t abide sherry. Would you view me as being terribly debauched if I had a whiskey instead?”
He snorted. “Ah, a girl after my own heart.”
They were sequestered in a small parlor, the door closed to shield them from any intruders. She didn’t suppose Periwinkle would enter the manor, but if he dared, he wouldn’t find them.
Besides, Lord Roland had whispered to the first footman they’d encountered and had told the boy to round up some other male servants and chase Periwinkle away. Libby was thrilled by the order. She had no desire to have the intrusive fiend accost her ever again.
There was a liquor tray on a table in the corner, and Lord Roland poured two glasses. Libby stood by the window and gazed out at the garden where the afternoon festivities were progressing. She couldn’t see Luke anywhere, and she wondered if he was mingling in the crowd.
Her yearning to talk to him about what had just happened was so tangible that it seemed like a physical need she couldn’t slake. Clearly, her fixation was ridiculous, and she had to shuck it off, the problem being that she had no idea how.
Lord Roland came over and handed her a glass, and they sipped their beverages and stared out at the revelers.
“Has Mr. Periwinkle been stalking you for long?” he asked.
“He’s been trying to stalk me, but my cousin, Simon, has kept him away.”
“I hadn’t realized it was the twentieth anniversary of your rescue.”
“Neither had I—until Periwinkle started hounding me.”
The comment was a bald-faced lie. There was never a minute of the day that she didn’t ponder her rescue by those navy sailors. Because Uncle Harry had turned her tragedy into a performance monologue, she was never able to not think about it. The event had defined her life, but she didn’t remember much about what had actually transpired.
Any authentic recollection had been dragged out of her by Harry when she was tiny, then he’d enhanced her memories so it sounded even more catastrophic than it had been. She couldn’t guess which portions were genuine and which were faked for dramatic effect.
Occasionally, at night when she couldn’t sleep, she’d struggle to recall reliable details. There were things like her gripping a piece of wood and floating in the ocean in the dark. Adults had been shouting at her to hold on tight so she didn’t slip away.
She assumed it was a valid image. She hated bodies of water and the dark, and she never placed herself in a spot where there was shouting. That sort of experience lit a huge fire under her anxiety.
She remembered being on the island with Caroline and Joanna, remembered snuggling together like puppies. When she shut her eyes, she could feel their warm skin against her own.
But she didn’t remember her parents, didn’t remember the ship they’d been on, leaving England, or being out on the ocean. It was as if the frightening incident had been wiped clean. A doctor had once told her that it was a typical reaction after a calamity. A person could only handle so much scary information, then she buried the rest.
She would love to see Caroline and Joanna again. They’d been closer than sisters and inordinately attached. Then, when Harry had arrived to claim her, they’d been ripped apart. She hadn’t been allowed to tell them goodbye, and it was a wound that still hadn’t healed.
Did they suffer the same nightmares as Libby? Would they like to meet her? What would a reunion be like? What might they remember that she didn’t?
The prospect was too daunting to consider, so she never considered it. Periwinkle’s offer to put Libby in contact with them was tempting, but she remained too fearful to follow through. So she wouldn’t follow through.
Men liked to talk about themselves, and she didn’t like to talk about herself. She had a thousand questions she’d like to ask Lord Roland, and for once, there was no one to interrupt or distract them. If she was shrewd in her queries, what might he confide?
She peered up at him and said, “You survived a disaster, didn’t you, when you were younger? Apparently, you’re facing a big anniversary too. We have that in common.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it. I never dwell on that appalling period.”
“May I inquire about it? Or would you rather I mind my own business?”
“You can inquire. It played out very publicly, so there aren’t many facts that haven’t been chewed over. If you dig into something you shouldn’t, I’ll absolutely order you to butt out.”
She chuckled, and they clinked the rims of their glasses.
“I’ll just be very bold,” she said, “and mention your first wife. She left you, and you ended up divorced and disgraced.”
“I will defend myself by insisting I was stupid and wild, and no offense, but I eloped with a singer. It was such a stunning misstep that I’m amazed I didn’t send the Earth spinning off its axis.”
“Weren’t you ever apprised that disparate people shouldn’t wed? Down through the centuries, there’s been plenty of evidence that it never works out. What’s the old adage? Like should stick to like.”
He smirked. “I didn’t want that adage to be true, but I learned my lesson in a very hard way.”
“You had a daughter with her, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Little Henrietta. My wife absconded with her.”
Casually, Libby asked, “What happened to them?”
“My wife abandoned me for a handsome gambler.”
“Did you know him and see it coming? Or was it a complete surprise?”
“I knew him, but he wasn’t a friend. I certainly never suspected their affair or I’d have tried to stop it. I’m not sure I could have. My wife was quite insane.”
“Insane! My goodness.”
“She had many problems, mostly with how her emotions would swing out of control.”
“You’re being very frank with me,” Libby said, “and I can’t decide if I should be flattered or disturbed.”
“I was in the middle of it when it occurred, but now, it’s so far in the past it seems as if some other clueless idiot wreaked that havoc.”
“Where did the shameful couple go after they fled England?”
“They sailed to Italy.”
“You must have hunted for them.”
“Not for them so much. I didn’t care about them, but I searched for Henrietta. She would have been imperiled by her mother, and I hoped to rescue her.”
“You never found her?”
“Her mother’s paramour died in an accident in Rome, and after that, their trail went cold. My lawyers finally convinced me that they had to be dead too. My wife was very flamboyant, and she could never have hidden herself away, but there was never a trace of her.”
“Did you love Little Henrietta?”
“Will you think I’m horrid if I confess to being an awful parent? When she was born, I was an irresponsible dandy who wasn’t ready to be a father. I wasn’t concerned about her in the slightest.”
“Yet you searched for her . . .” Libby wistfully said. “You weren’t successful, but you tried.”
The interval grew awkward, and he downed his liquor and moved away from her. His cheeks were flushed, indicating he was embarrassed to have been
so candid.
“Has the liquor fortified you, Miss Carstairs?” He gestured to the garden. “Will you go outside?”
“Yes, I’m feeling much better, but I have to head upstairs to change my clothes. I’m always on stage, even during a picnic.”
“You constantly look fabulous.”
“I appreciate you noticing, but it’s none of my doing. My companion, Miss Fishburn, is in charge of my wardrobe.”
“I’m acquainted with Fish from when I was frolicking in town decades ago. She and I are old friends, and it’s nice to have her at Roland. We’ve been able to reminisce.”
“I’m so glad,” Libby said, not meaning it.
His use of Fish’s nickname was distressing, and it was obvious Libby needed to have a chat with Fish. Fish was the one who urged caution in romantic affairs. Libby didn’t suppose Fish would be reckless, but Libby had to counsel restraint.
She downed her drink too and handed him her glass. As he placed them on the tray, she said, “Thank you for taking a few minutes to calm me.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“Would you call me Libby?”
“I’d like that.”
As with Penny, he didn’t suggest she call him Charles. Not that Libby would have. She couldn’t imagine them being on such familiar terms, so she shook off her disappointment.
She wanted to stay in the small room with him forever, but she’d been too blunt in her interrogation, and he was anxious to end their private discussion. Once he’d declared it to be over, she could hardly argue that they should continue.
“Will you go out to the party?” she asked as he opened the door and they walked down the hall to the front foyer.
“I guess I have to.”
She laughed. “Don’t be so glum. In another week or so, we’ll all have left.”
“Yes, you will have, and then, I’ll probably mope and complain that the house is too quiet.”
“If you see Fish, tell her I require her assistance up in my bedchamber.”
“I will, and you’ve given me the perfect excuse to track her down.”
He appeared so delighted by the prospect that Libby was a tad alarmed.
She wasn’t sure if there was an appropriate comment to utter. After all, she was in no position to scold him for being too friendly with Fish, but she lingered a moment, then a moment more, until the delay became uncomfortable. She spun away and started up the stairs. She’d reached the landing when he called to her.
“Libby?”
She halted and stared down. “Yes?”
“What do you know about your parents?”
“Mostly just what my Uncle Harry shared with me. He was the relative who claimed me after I was returned to England. I lived with him and he raised me.”
“Fish told me they were missionaries.”
Libby shrugged. “It’s what Harry always said.”
“Do you think he was being truthful? Do you think they were missionaries?”
For the briefest instant, there was an eerie stillness in the air, as if every being in the universe was waiting to discover what they’d say next.
Libby broke the silence. “That’s a very strange question. Why would you ask it?”
“You’re much too remarkable to come from ordinary stock. If you announced that your father was a king, I would absolutely believe it.”
She forced a smile, the one that brought audiences to their feet so they cheered and applauded. “I’ve heard statements like that all my life, Lord Roland. Perhaps I should pretend my father really was a king.”
She kept on, and she didn’t glance down, but she sensed him watching her. His curiosity was intense, and she couldn’t bear to observe it. If she did, who could predict what might happen?
Libby galloped down the rural lane, bent over her horse’s neck, the animal cantering at its fastest speed. Her hat had flown off and her hair had fallen from its pins so the blond locks were wildly flowing behind her. Anyone who observed her would likely wonder if a madwoman hadn’t just passed by.
She’d parted with Lord Roland in his foyer and had intended to socialize with Penny and her guests, but she’d been too disconcerted. After her confrontation with Mr. Periwinkle, then her conversation with Lord Roland, she’d felt as if the hounds of Hell were chasing her. A reckless act had been required to outrun them.
She’d written a note for Fish, then had snuck away from the manor as rapidly and as furtively as she could.
It was always disturbing to bump into a man like Periwinkle. He was determined to hash out the truth about her past. And as to Lord Roland, well . . .
She’d been yearning for a private chat with him, and now, she’d had it. His daughter, Little Henrietta, was dead, so what was the point of anything?
She was adept at fleeing uncomfortable situations. Harry had taught her that neat trick. Whenever circumstances had become too dicey, he’d always had them pack their bags, and they’d tiptoed away from the problem that was plaguing him. His ability to disappear had kept him from getting arrested, from getting pummeled by creditors, from getting shot at by angry husbands.
He might not have been her uncle by birth, but she certainly exhibited many of his worst tendencies.
The sky had been growing darker, and suddenly, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. Her horse shied, causing her to frantically grapple for purchase. She tugged on the reins and slowed him to a walk. Sprinkles dampened her shoulders.
Momentarily lost, she peered about, and she was dismayed to find that she was sitting at the gate to Barrett. At the realization, a shiver slid down her spine. Was it a warning or maybe an evil portent?
She glanced down the road, and a rider was trotting toward her. Of course it would be Luke heading to his home just as she was at that very spot. He’d seen her, so she couldn’t whip around and race off in the other direction. If she tried, she was positive he’d chase her down.
As he neared, it seemed as if great fortune was approaching, as if doom was approaching. Which would it turn out to be in the end?
He kept coming until they were side by side, and he leaned over and pulled her close so he could deliver a passionate kiss.
When they straightened, he was scowling like a grumpy nanny. “Why are you gallivanting across the country without a maid or a groom?”
“I had to escape the party for a while. I had to clear my mind.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re alone.”
“I’m not a fussy debutante,” she said. “Don’t scold me as if I have rules to obey.”
“What if you suffered a mishap when you were off by yourself? What then? How would we guess that you were imperiled?”
“I never have trouble, and if I did, I have my pistol in my pocket.”
“Your comment alarms me.”
“Why? I know how to use it.”
“I’m sure you do, but I am incensed to hear that you believe you’re invincible.”
“Perhaps I am invincible. My history proves I can survive any ordeal.”
“Well, people supposedly have nine lives, and I fear you’ve squandered several of them already. Stop tempting Fate.”
“I’ve always tempted Fate,” she breezily said. “Why quit now?”
He studied her and frowned. “You’re upset. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
It was her typical answer to that question. For much of her life, she’d been anxious or aggrieved, but she’d had to pretend she was fine. Harry had insisted that no one liked a complainer, so she’d proficiently learned how to bury tons of petty grievances and bad attitude.
Luke scoffed. “Liar. Your distress is plain as the nose on your face, so I repeat: What happened?”
“I was accosted by a reporter.” She waved away the remark, as if the encounter had been sill
y.
“From a newspaper?”
“Yes. What other kind is there?”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to talk about the shipwreck.”
“My goodness, why?”
“It’s the twentieth anniversary this year—of my being found? I’m trying to ignore it, but he’s been pestering me.”
“What is he expecting you’ll say?”
“He’s tracked down the other two lost girls. Caroline and Joanna? He’d like to print a retrospective, and he asked if he could arrange a reunion for the three of us.”
“Would you like to speak with them?”
“I might—if it was private.” For some reason, tears flooded her eyes, which was embarrassing.
“Don’t be sad.” He leaned over and kissed her again.
“I’m not. I’m just . . . annoyed. I can’t bear to be harassed. I don’t need the sort of publicity he’d generate.”
He grinned, eager to lighten her mood. “Are you certain about that? You’ve thrived on sharing your story with audiences. You might create a whole new crop of admirers.”
She snorted at that. “I have too many as it is. I can’t escape some of them.”
She meant him, and he understood that she did.
“After you were drinking punch in the garden,” he said, “I waited for you to return to the picnic, but you didn’t. I finally bribed Fish to reveal your whereabouts, and she admitted you’d gone for a ride.”
“You didn’t bribe Fish. She wouldn’t have succumbed to blackmail.”
“Maybe not. Maybe she’s simply a romantic at heart, and she hoped I’d find you so we could spend some time together.”
“I doubt that very much. She thinks we’re both mad.”
“She’s probably right.”
“Is that how you found me? You nagged at Fish until she told you where I was? I assumed our meeting was an accident, but apparently, you deliberately sought me out.”
His grin widened. “I might have.”
