by Cheryl Holt
“Must I have a separate bedchamber from you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Could I…I…” Her cheeks blushed a pretty shade of pink. “Could I share yours so we could always be together at night? Especially now when you’ll be leaving so soon.”
“Why, you scamp, you. The servants would be scandalized.”
“Don’t mind me.” She waved away the idea, as if it had been ridiculous. “I’m still overwhelmed from last night.”
He took her hands, kissed one palm, then the other. “I’m overwhelmed too.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe you’d admit it, you virile fellow. If you permit others to notice that you have human tendencies, some of the gilt might rub off your manly persona.”
“There’s no chance of my manly persona waning.”
“Probably not.”
“And I would love to have you share my bedchamber.”
“Are you sure?”
“There’s nothing I would like more. I’ll have the servants move your belongings immediately.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Captain Harlow! What a delightful surprise.”
“Hello, Lady Run.”
Matthew walked over to her, and she held out her hands in greeting. He squeezed her fingers and made a courteous bow.
She grinned up at him. “It’s about time you showed your face at Fox Run.”
“Clarissa warned me I’d better get over here to speak with you, or you’d haunt me until I did.”
“She’s right.”
He’d been escorted into a pretty salon where she was working on preparations for her garden party. The space was a mess, with decorations and guest lists strewn everywhere. Servants were bustling in and out, asking her opinion, asking her advice.
He hadn’t intended to come. When he’d told Clarissa that—since his elevation to national hero—people were scurrying out of the woodwork with propositions and proposals, he hadn’t been joking. Everyone wanted to be his friend. Everyone wanted him to join them in a business venture.
He’d already heard from a dozen charlatans who’d insisted they were kin. Just because Lady Run was an aristocrat, it didn’t mean she had better sense. He wouldn’t try to guess her motives, but Clarissa had urged him to visit, and as he was quickly discovering, it was hard to tell her no.
He gazed at Lady Run, assessing her beautiful features, her golden blond hair and big blue eyes. When they’d passed each other that day on the road, it had been a fleeting encounter, but now standing so close to her, he realized she exuded an energy and verve that resembled his own blatant temperament. She commanded the very air around her, her dynamic vigor nearly tangible, and it was difficult to look away.
But it was her eyes that struck him the most. They were an exact replica of his own, and he searched for a sign of recognition, of past history or connection. Was it possible for them to be related? Could she be a long lost auntie or cousin?
She drew him into the room, shoving one of her many lists onto the floor so he could sit.
“I apologize for the chaos,” she said.
“You weren’t expecting me. If it’s a bad time, I can come back later.”
“No, no. It will be a bad time until this insane party is over. I’ve never planned such a huge event before. I’m afraid I’m a bit out of my league. If I didn’t have such a competent housekeeper, I don’t know how I’d manage.”
There was a tea tray on a table, and of course there was liquor on the sideboard. She gestured to both. “Would you like a refreshment, Captain? Shall it be tea or something stronger?”
“I wouldn’t mind something stronger. Whiskey would be fine.”
The butler was lurking, acting as if he wasn’t gawking at Matthew, and she waved him over. “Please serve Captain Harlow a whiskey, and I’ll have one too.” She peered at Matthew. “You won’t faint, will you, if I imbibe? Should I protect your masculine sensibilities and have a lemon water?”
“It won’t bother me if you have a whiskey. In fact, I prefer it. I won’t feel like such a lush.”
“Wonderful. I’m liking you more by the second.” She pointed to the butler. “Two whiskeys, please, and don’t you dare gush over Captain Harlow. I’m sure he’s sick of hearing how marvelous he is.”
Matthew smiled. “Yes, it can be overwhelming.”
The butler scurried about, his hands shaking as he delivered their beverages. It was peculiar to see the older gentleman experiencing a fit of nerves, and Matthew found it hilarious that he could have such an effect. He’d never get used to it.
His acclaim had spread so far and wide that even in this small corner of the country, he could make a butler tremble. Poor fellow. Yet the man dispensed the whiskey without incident, and though he plainly wished to linger and eavesdrop, he behaved himself and left.
Once they were alone, Lady Run studied Matthew, and he studied her too, neither in any hurry to break the silence.
“First of all,” Lady Run eventually said, “I wanted to talk about the day we met.”
“I remember it well.”
“You were horrid to play such a nasty trick on me.”
“How were you tricked?”
“You told me you were your younger brother, Rafe Harlow.”
“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten about that.”
“I had to call on the Merricks to learn it was your grand self in residence.”
“I’m not accustomed to the praise that’s been showered on me. Occasionally, it’s easier to pretend I’m someone else. It saves me an enormous amount of trouble.”
“I can certainly understand. I was a schoolteacher before I met my husband. Our whirlwind courtship elevated me into the highest rungs of society, and I’m still flummoxed by all the fuss.”
“Yes, up until the sinking of the Royal Tempest, I was just an ordinary soldier. It’s odd to have people staring and gossiping. Most times, I’d rather not be noticed.”
The comment was actually a lie. He’d ever been ordinary at any endeavor, and as to his being noticed, it had hardly started with his purported heroics. He always stood out in any group of men. His height made him tower over others, but it was his dominant character that made them yearn to follow wherever he led.
“Did Miss Merrick explain why I wanted to speak with you?” she asked.
“She did, and I should probably clarify something.”
“What is it?”
“She’s not Miss Merrick anymore. I wed her. She’s Mrs. Harlow now.”
“You rat! You didn’t inform anyone. You didn’t invite me to the wedding.”
He shrugged. “With the difficulties the Merricks have had, we decided on a small ceremony. It was just the immediate family.”
“Since you’ve only recently arrived at Greystone, it can’t have been a love match.”
He chuckled. “It definitely wasn’t. You’ll have to visit Clarissa so she can tell you how furious she was about having me as a husband.”
Lady Run grinned an impish grin. “She didn’t wish to marry England’s hero?”
“She didn’t think I was much of a catch.”
“I’m betting you’ll change her mind.”
“I hope so, or we’ll have some long decades ahead.”
She studied him again, her blue eyes digging deep. “You were being kind, weren’t you?”
He hated to discuss the reasons he’d proceeded, but at Lady Run’s prodding, he was eager to babble like an idiot. She had that type of effect, and Matthew pitied her husband. When a man was wed to such a striking, powerful female, how did he exert any control over her?
Matthew shrugged again. “I was given their property as a reward, but I didn’t really do anything to deserve it.”
“Didn’t do anything? Don’t sell yourself short, Captain. Let us have our heroes. We need them.”
“It just seemed appropriate to make amends for what they’ve been through.”
“You’re
very noble, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t call it noble. Silly, maybe. Mad too.”
“And you picked Clarissa Merrick. Not Angela.”
“Clarissa was prettier,” he joked, but it was true.
“Is that all you intend to say about it?” She laughed and laughed. “You’re noble and gallant. I’m expecting we’ll be great friends.”
A pleasant intimacy had blossomed between them, but still he was uncomfortable and anxious to end the appointment. He brought the conversation back to where it needed to be. “Clarissa said you thought we might be related.”
“Yes, remember when we met? I assumed you were my brother Michael.”
“Yes, the entire encounter was peculiar.”
“Have you heard any gossip about me?”
He grinned. “If I had, I’d never admit it.”
She’d come to Fox Run to marry the parish vicar, but somehow she’d landed the much bigger prize of viscount. Matthew would never confess that there were several juicy stories floating about the neighborhood.
“I probably didn’t ask that very well.” She chuckled merrily. “I didn’t mean the stories about my moving to Fox Run. I meant the stories about my past. I’m searching for my lost siblings.”
“Are you?” he carefully inquired.
“We were separated when we were very small, and until a few months ago I didn’t recollect my history or that I had siblings. I presumed I was an orphan who was alone in the world.”
“I wasn’t aware of that.”
“When I visited your wife, she mentioned a detail about your past that left me curious.”
“What was it?”
“You were orphaned young too, and raised by Mr. and Mrs. Harlow.”
“I was.”
“Your parents died in a fire.”
“Ah…yes, I believe that’s what happened. It’s what I was told anyway.”
“So your surname wasn’t Harlow when you were born.”
“No.”
“Do you know what it was before the Harlows took you in?”
“No.”
Matthew had no idea why he’d lied, but there was the loudest ringing in his ears, and his heart was racing, as if he was terrified.
One of his strange spells swept over him, the one where he’d drift off into a vision he didn’t understand, and wasn’t this the very worst moment for it to occur?
This time he was huddled in the corner of a house, with the other boy who was always there, the boy who might have been his guardian angel, and there was a very large, jovial man in the doorway.
Father! Father is home!
The man grabbed a blond boy and tossed him in the air.
How is my little lord today? How is my little lord? Look how much you’ve grown while I was away!
It was a happy interlude. Matthew was giggling, he and the other boy—the one who was his mirror image—holding hands, watching the joyous scene play out. There was a sense of enormous contentment, of the world being perfect.
“So…I was wondering about the fire.”
Matthew realized Lady Run was speaking, and he forced himself out of his trance, forced himself to focus.
“What did you say?”
“Are you all right, Captain?”
“I…ah…forgot, but there’s something important I need to do. Would you excuse me?”
“Yes, of course but before you go, can you tell me about the fire?”
“No, I have no information.”
Again, he couldn’t figure out why he’d lied. He had the old brown satchel—it was beloved for some reason and he’d never parted with it—that had been thrust at him when he’d escaped the inn. Inside it was his birth certificate that revealed his true identity. Why not just admit it?
But he was overwhelmed by her and the vision he’d just had.
“I found my brother, Bryce,” she continued, ignoring his obvious disorientation, “but I have two other brothers who are twins. They were separated when they were three.”
“Twins? You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
On hearing the word twins, he felt as if she’d poked him with a knife. He might have gasped aloud, but over the ringing in his ears, he couldn’t be certain.
“Their names are Matthew and Michael Blair, so you can see why I was interested to learn that your Christian name is Matthew. You look exactly like my brother, Michael. You could be…well…twins.”
He was jolted again, his body jerking as if she’d stabbed him.
“Have you ever been told you were a twin?” she inquired. “Have you any memories of a twin brother?”
Matthew had been struck dumb. “A twin. A twin brother…”
“Yes. They were traveling with some servants, staying at a coaching inn for the night. The inn burned to the ground, and the servants perished.”
“The servants died?”
“Yes, but the twins survived, and somehow they were lost in the chaos. People searched for years, but there was no trace of them, and they were never located.”
He couldn’t believe it! “People searched?”
“Yes, for years. I crossed paths with Michael awhile back, and he didn’t recall that he had a twin brother. Is there a chance you’ve suffered the same experience?”
Matthew was stunned. She’d thrown out so many details that he felt wounded and bewildered. He needed to stand and depart, but the Earth seemed to have tipped off its axis. If he rose to his feet, he wouldn’t be able to keep his balance.
“I really must be going,” he muttered.
“Must you? You don’t appear hale enough to ride home.”
“I’m fine.” Yet he was far from fine.
“My brother, Michael, is coming to Fox Run. Would you allow me to introduce you to him?”
“He’s coming here?”
“Yes.”
For some reason, the news was inordinately disturbing. He wanted to refuse, but she was so eager. Besides, how could it hurt to speak with the other man? Matthew was positive it would be pointless.
“What was your maiden name, Lady Run? Didn’t you tell me it was Blair?”
“Yes. I grew up thinking it was Evangeline Etherton, but I’ve since discovered it was Blair. I was born Anne Blair, named after my mother. My brothers called me Sissy.”
Matthew held himself very still. He vividly remembered the recent dream he’d had, the one Clarissa had witnessed. The male voice in his head had said, I’ve met Sissy, and she’s so pretty. When he was sufficiently calm, he asked, “And your father? What was his name?”
“Julian Blair.”
Matthew scowled. “But they weren’t servants? You’re certain?”
“My parents? Goodness, no. My mother was an actress and singer of some renown, and my father would have eventually been Earl of Radcliffe.”
“Earl of Radcliffe,” he murmured, the word Radcliffe infusing him with a strange sense of satisfaction—almost as if he’d always known the place.
That vision flitted by again, the large, vibrant man tossing the blond boy in the air. How’s my little lord? Look how much you’ve grown!
Matthew was so overcome that he was afraid he’d burst into tears and cry like a baby. Was Lady Run his sister? Had he once been part of a family? Had he a twin brother he didn’t recall?
The nightmare of the fire tried to intrude in his mind, and he saw himself reaching out through the smoke, grabbing for someone who was lagging behind. Had it been a twin brother named Michael?
What was true?
On the spur of the moment, he couldn’t decide, and he had to escape Lady Run’s shrewd gaze, had to get away from her and contemplate what she’d shared. Had his father been an aristocrat? Was this beautiful, glamorous viscountess his sister?
She had to be, but it was too farfetched, as if an angel had swooped down from Heaven and whispered a secret.
“I really, really have to go,” he said.
“You have to promise you’ll come again
though. As soon as Michael arrives, I’ll send for you.”
He staggered toward the door, passing by a harpsichord that had been shoved into the corner. Normally he would have continued on by, but there was a tiny statuette on the box of the instrument. It was an ivory carving, small enough to fit into a person’s palm.
The sight of it stopped him in his tracks, and he gaped at it like a halfwit. He knew that statue from somewhere. For the fleetest instant, as he stared at it, there appeared to be a woman—who looked just like Lady Run—sitting on the stool, her fingers on the harpsichord’s keys. Was it a ghost? It had to be, but of who?
He blinked, and the ghost vanished, leaving behind an enchanting scent of roses.
“Do you play the harpsichord, Captain?” Lady Run asked.
“Just enough to be a nuisance.” He pointed to the statue. “That’s a pretty carving.”
“It was my mother’s. She always kept it with her.”
Ah…that’s why I remember it…
“Did you see her?” he mumbled like an idiot.
“See who?”
“A moment ago, there was a woman at the harpsichord.”
“Mother was here?” Lady Run didn’t act as if he was mad, though he definitely must be. She said, “Now that you mention it, I smell roses.”
“Roses?”
“I always smell roses when she’s nearby. If she revealed herself, she must like you. Her ghost has been hovering recently. I was separated from her when I was two, and I like to think she’s watching over me.”
“I believe she is, Lady Run. I believe you’re in very good hands.”
He lurched away, and though she escorted him out, chatting amiably as he went outside, mounted his horse, and galloped away, he couldn’t recall a single comment. Nor did he recall how he got home to Greystone. Somehow he managed it, and if there were ghosts following in his wake, luckily he didn’t notice them.
* * * *
“Do you ever miss your father?”
“No. Do you?”
Clarissa was walking down the hall, approaching her bedchamber when she overheard the bit of male conversation. She slowed, knowing she should announce herself, but it was Matthew talking to Rafe, and she’d had so few opportunities to observe them together. She was fascinated by both men, but most especially her husband, and Rafe Harlow was her brother-in-law.
