by Dawn Brower
“I deliver them,” the boy stopped momentarily and said over his shoulder, “It is up to you what you do with it”
He kept going, not once looking back. Did he not grasp what his delivery meant? His whole life had been turned upside down by one envelope, and he hadn’t even broken the seal yet. His father wasn’t in France. He should be home at Seabrook—safe and alive. Asher swallowed hard and slowly broke open the envelope. He pulled the missive out, and then fell to his knees. His father… God, he couldn’t even think about it. Why had he insisted on Asher having a bloody world tour? The words blurred before him, and he realized why. Tears flowed—he wiped them away furiously, but it didn’t help.
He was now the Marquess of Seabrook.
The telegram said his father had died months ago, but they didn’t know where to find Asher. So he hadn’t even been able to attend his father’s funeral. He’d been in Paris for three weeks; before that, he’d been on a boat sailing around Greece, and then he’d taken a train through most of Europe until he decided to work with the Earl of Derby. He’d run into him by chance while in the south of France. Now he was in Paris, facing the fact his father died while he had gallivanted through multiple countries.
He should go home—even if the funeral had been held already. His mother would need his support, and his sisters… They would all be devastated too. Asher couldn’t believe his father was gone… Somehow, he managed to crawl back to his feet and set the telegram on a nearby table. At some point, he’d want to re-read it. He should get out of his flat and walk around Paris. Maybe he’d be able to gather his thoughts and make a decision. There was still work he had to do in the city regarding Sir Benjamin. He couldn’t say a final goodbye to his father, and going back to England now seemed almost—pointless. Still, he wouldn’t make that decision yet.
Asher headed over to the sink to wash away the tears. His insides were torn to shreds, and his emotions jumped all over the place. It would be a while before he could make any rational decisions, and even longer before his grief ebbed. He grabbed a cloth off the shelf and soaked it in warm water, then scrubbed his face—probably longer than necessary, but it soothed him. He wrung it out and set it on the back of the sink, then stared at his reflection in the overhead mirror. His eyes were rimmed red, and his blond hair remained a little damp from the cloth. Hopefully no one noticed how wretched he looked. Hell, he didn’t really care if they did, as long as they didn’t bother asking what was wrong with him. That one question he didn’t want to answer. Partially because he didn’t have a clue how.
“Well,” he said to himself. “At least I’m not a duke—that would be worse. All those ‘Your Graces’ would drive me mad.” He might be a higher rank, but he was still a lord. Some people might take more notice of him though. A marquess had more pull in the government and society. His father had been a major influence in the House of Lords. That was something Asher would have to consider too. How much did he want to participate in politics?
He walked over and grabbed his jacket. The fresh air would do him good, and it wasn’t too hot for June yet. Maybe he’d do the tourist thing. He hadn’t had time since he arrived. Truthfully, he was looking for anything to think about other than the news shattering his world. He prayed a distraction of some sort would find its way to him.
Lady Catherine strolled along the side of the Pont d'Iéna, heading toward the Eiffel Tower. She had sneaked out of the embassy to explore the area on her own. Sir Benjamin would have insisted she take someone with her. He believed Paris to be an unsafe place for a young lady. Catherine wanted a little peace and quiet. Strolling along the Seine had seemed like a good idea. Something about the water soothed her soul. She stopped and stared at the river below.
“Don’t tell me you’re considering something drastic,” a male said.
She shook herself out of her reverie and glanced up into his green eyes. It had been two days since she’d met him at the embassy. He’d been on her mind ever since. Something she wished she didn’t have to admit to—even if it was only to herself. Catherine still didn’t know his name, and it irritated her that he hadn’t introduced himself. Asking her guardian would have solved the problem; however, it would have caused a new one.
Sir Benjamin would have liked that she’d taken an interest in another male. He did want her to marry and settle down, and something told her he’d have loved it even more when he discovered who she’d been interested in. She might not know his name, but she was certain he had a nice title to go with it. Catherine glared at him. “Depends on what you consider drastic.”
“Jumping to your death in the river below.”
She stared down at the water and shrugged. “Doesn’t seem so bad down there. The jump isn’t that high—it’s survivable.”
He lifted a brow. “You were contemplating it.”
Taking a swim in the Seine was not high on her list of things to do. There were far better things she could do with her time. She wouldn’t explain that to him though. They were barely acquainted, and she owed him nothing. “If I did, would you jump in after me?”
“As a gentleman, I’d be required to,” he said almost regrettably. “Please don’t make me. I’ve already had a rather bad day, and I’d be grateful if you didn’t make it worse.”
“I might consider taking pity on you,” she teased. “For a price.” She started to smile, but when she glanced at him, sadness crashed through her. The empathy side of her gift didn’t usually come out so harshly. He grieved, and hard… He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d had a bad day. What had caused him so much pain?
“Name it,” he answered. “I might be willing to pay it.” He lifted his lips upward, but there was no happiness there. His eyes even showed a little red around them as if he’d cried. This man had actually shed tears—Catherine couldn’t hold the surprise in. Her mouth fell open, yet no words came out. “Cat got your tongue?” The following smirk made her want to wipe it off his face. She’d been feeling sorry for him…
“No,” she replied. “Debating what I want.”
“A lady such as yourself is bound to be pricy.” He winked. “I promise I’m good for it.”
He made it sound so suggestive. Catherine’s cheeks burned, but she couldn’t look away. When she’d left the embassy she never expected her day would involve him. The mystery man whom she wanted to learn more about—the enigma she couldn’t solve. “Perhaps there is something you can do for me.”
“Oh?” He folded his arms over his chest. “I thought that was the point of this conversation. I’m to pay whatever price you deem acceptable so you don’t plunge to your death in the river below.” He glanced over the railing. “Please tell me you’ve reconsidered. I don’t wish to get wet today.”
She rolled her eyes. “You need not worry. I have no desire to die at the moment.” Catherine held out her arm to him. “Will you walk with me?”
He tried to hide it, but the grief hadn’t gone away. Every second she spent in his company, that sorrow beat into her. She had to help him, or it would grow. “If you insist,” he agreed. “I don’t particularly want to return to my flat.”
Catherine looped her arm through his. “I hear the Eiffel Tower is nice.”
“I wouldn’t know,” he said. “Never been there.”
“It’s hard to miss.” Catherine laughed lightly and pointed toward it. “It’s rather large.”
He was quiet and didn’t acknowledge what she’d gestured to. Catherine wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She had to find a way for him to open up. They would be near the tower soon, and then what? “Are you ever going to introduce yourself to me?”
That made him frown even more. What had she said? Why was his name making him ever sadder than before? They reached the end of the bridge, and he pulled away from her. He turned toward the river and stared at it. “Maybe it was me who wanted to jump and you’re the one who saved me.”
“It can’t be that bad.” She reached up and touched his arm. “
What is wrong?”
“Life is funny,” he began. “You think that you have so much time, but really it’s quite finite. Any day could be our last, and yet we continue moving forward.”
He’d lost someone. That was why he permeated sorrow. “That’s also what makes life beautiful. When you find joy, it should be embraced, and even the hard times teach us something. It gives us a reason to appreciate happiness when we do have it.”
Their close proximity made it easier for her to reach into him. This side of her gift didn’t always work when she wanted it to. If it did, she might be able to alleviate some of his suffering and make the grief easier to bear. A touch of happiness and a sprinkle of hope—then his outlook would improve. He blinked several times and shook his head. “Did you feel that?”
“What?” Catherine asked innocently. Normally people didn’t notice when she helped them with her empathic ability. Maybe she had a bigger connection to this man than she realized. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but she’d ponder over all the possibilities later—when she was alone.
“That jolt…” He crinkled his eyebrows together. “You really didn’t feel it?”
Catherine could never admit that she’d used anything out of the ordinary to heal him. No one understood her gifts. Her family had been cursed enough by them over the years, and she didn’t want him to see her differently. For some reason, she liked him. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He shook his head again. “I suppose it’s nothing.” His lips tilted upward into a sinful smile. The kind he’d first bestowed upon her at the embassy. He already seemed to be more himself. “You asked if I’d ever introduce myself. Would it be too much for you to call me Ash? I don’t like formalities.”
“If you insist—Ash,” she answered. Why didn’t he want her to know who he was? What could he possibly be hiding? He admitted he was a lord already. Since he was aware of her familial relations, surely he must realize that she didn’t care about his status amongst the ton. “Then you must call me Cat. All my friends do.” Not that she had many, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I’m rather glad I ran into you.” Ash brushed a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “I think I needed to find my own Kitty-Cat to make me feel better. Thank you for whatever you did.”
“I didn’t…” The last thing she’d expected when suggesting he use her nickname was that he’d create one of his own. Catherine wasn’t sure how she felt about it either. No one had ever bothered to get that familiar with her before. A part of her liked it, the other part of her was terrified by what it could mean.
“I don’t need to know,” he interrupted. “Just understand it’s appreciated. Now come with me. I know a little café that has amazing coffee, and I’d like to spend the afternoon with you.”
Catherine didn’t push, and neither did he. She let him lead her to the café and the afternoon of laughter that followed. Maybe she’d needed Ash as much as he’d needed her. Fate had a funny way of stepping in that way.
Chapter 3
June 28, 1914
Catherine sat in the window seat of her room, stroking the soft fur of her cat, Merlin. His purrs reverberated against Catherine’s fingertips. Rain pelted against the window pane in a steady beat. She hated miserable rainy days. She’d wanted to spend the day walking again, but the weather hadn’t permitted her that luxury. Merlin butted his head against Catherine’s hand when she stopped petting him. He had long, black fur that was silver tipped around his head and back, but his head was entirely black. His eyes were a rich amber. Catherine had always found his coloring interesting and that had been what drew her to him.
She laughed and picked up the cat. “Am I not giving you enough attention?” There were not a lot of comforts from home she’d been allowed to bring with her, but she’d insisted on bringing Merlin. She’d had a carrier designed for the cat so traveling was easier. Merlin hadn’t exactly appreciated it. Catherine hugged him against her chest and stroked his head with her fingers. The cat’s purrs grew louder. “What are we going to do with ourselves?” Merlin had no answer to that question, even if he could speak. Neither did Catherine. He jumped from her arms and lay down near her feet, then licked his paw.
The rain started to pound harder against the glass. She turned toward the sound, unable to ignore it. The scenery outside melted away and turned to a sunny day, but not the same one she currently experienced. This one didn’t have rain, and everything was completely different. The sun beat down on the buildings, and they weren’t French in origin. Catherine couldn’t be sure where they were as she had never been there.
A slightly overweight couple laughed as they walked down a street and perused shops. Then they stopped to get into an open autocar. The male had on an ornate military headpiece and a field marshal’s tunic. The woman had a broad bonnet that didn’t completely conceal her plump face. She held a dainty parasol over her head even as the car moved. Two men sat in the front seat—one appeared to be giving the other orders. They stopped suddenly, and a couple of loud pops reverberated around them. Everything seemed all right—until it wasn’t.
In the backseat, a thin stream of blood spurted out of the man’s mouth. The woman shouted, “What’s happened to you.” Then she slumped over, her head falling between the man’s legs.
“Has she fainted?” A man in the front seat asked.
The man in the back ignored him. He started to stroke her hair and a tear fell from his eyes. “Sophie, dear, don’t die.” The woman didn’t move. “Please stay alive for our children.” It became clear then he must be her husband. His panic exacerbated as he urged his wife to live. His breathing slowed, and he grew weaker with each passing second.
The driver stopped the car when the men in the front realized that both their passengers were injured in the back seat. They went to them and started pulling at the man’s tunic. “Where are you hit?”
“It’s nothing,” the man replied feebly, but slumped over.
Alarm overtook the other members of their party. “They’re dead,” a man shouted. “They’re both dead.”
Catherine jolted out of the vision. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. She brought her hand to her chest and took several deep breaths to calm herself. She hadn’t had a vision in quite a while, and never one as intense as that one. Those two individuals appeared to have loved each other a great deal, and they were destined to die, or had already. She couldn’t be certain because she hadn’t recognized the surroundings. What was she supposed to do with that? She couldn’t save two people she didn’t know, especially if she wasn’t familiar with their location. What were the fates trying to tell her?
It was useless information…
She stood in frustration and paced her room. Perhaps she could find something to do outside of the rain. She wasn’t sure what, but there had to be something. Merlin sauntered over and rubbed his head against her leg. Out of habit, she leaned down and picked him up. She carried him with her out of the room, petting him as she strolled down the corridor. Everyone in the embassy bustled about, taking care of business. Catherine didn’t have anything specific to do. She lived there because Sir Benjamin did, and he insisted she stayed with him. Sometimes she wished she could return to England. At least there she wouldn’t be under her guardian’s watchful eyes.
Catherine moved back and forth to avoid colliding with people on their way to do important things—most of them men. An occasional woman would pass by, but they were few and far between. The embassy didn’t hire women to do anything the ambassador deemed significant; however, they could cook and clean. Needless to say, Catherine didn’t much like the current ambassador. Finally, she reached the library. There would probably still be some men there in need of certain tomes for whatever reason, but it would be the lesser occupied room in the embassy for a while. Most of them would be working closer to the main offices and catering to the ambassador’s needs.
She pushed the door open and then shut it so
Merlin couldn’t escape while she browsed the shelves. He ran through the room as soon as his paws hit the carpet. The little devil hopped on a nearby table and knocked a glass off. It hit the carpet with a quiet thud, and thankfully, it had been empty. The last thing she needed was for him to stain the priceless run underneath the table. If the glass had broken, it would have been far easier to clean up than a red blotch. Sir Benjamin barely tolerated Merlin, and it would give him a reason to make Catherine get rid of him. She would not allow that to happen. Merlin was her one friend, and she loved him dearly.
“Don’t cause trouble,” she scolded him. “Or no treat for you later when Cook isn’t looking. I think she’s making chicken tonight.”
The door squeaked open. Catherine gasped and raised her hand to her mouth. She’d been caught… The man who entered didn’t come to catch her and Merlin doing something naughty. Her lips tilted upward at the sight of Ash’s golden blond hair and emerald eyes. “What are you doing here?” Ash’s presence surprised her, but she didn’t know why exactly. He was making a habit of it. Every meeting they had seemed to give her a different side of him, and she couldn’t be sure which one was the accurate version of him. Maybe it would be safer to say they all fit him, but he showed the world a few pieces of himself at a time.
“Looking for you, of course,” he replied nonchalantly. “A maid directed me here. She passed you on the way to the kitchen.”
She had crossed paths with several people, and some of them were maids. It was a plausible story. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing at the embassy. I didn’t realize you had an appointment.”
“I don’t,” he replied, then shrugged. “Do I need one to pay a call on you?”
He didn’t, but she hadn’t expected him to visit her. They’d gotten along well enough when they walked by the Eiffel Tower and then at the café; however, she hadn’t seen him since. Ash had entered her thoughts often enough though... Much more than she’d have liked—truth be told, he’d been there so often it was commonplace. He had an unusual effect on her. “Oh?” She tilted her head. “What did you wish to see me about?”
