The Midnight Hour: All-Hallows’ Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque, Meara Platt, Scarlett Scott, Mary Lancaster, Maggi Andersen, Chasity Bowlin, Sydney Jane Baily, Violetta Rand

  “It’s beautiful.” Overwhelmed, her voice had come out as a whisper. “The green is exquisite.”

  “For my naturalist, Eleanor.”

  She laughed again, and then he slipped it onto her finger.

  “It fits!” he said, sounding surprised.

  “It does,” she agreed, turning her hand this way and that. “Imagine what it will look like when the sun hits it. Or moonlight!”

  She couldn’t contain the squeal of excitement. Even with a throbbing ankle, this was the absolute best evening of her life.

  “Do you think Maggie has any champagne? I do love bubbly wine.”

  Grayson grinned at her. “You’re not childish at all. You’re delightfully childlike. And I hope you always remain that way.”

  She shrugged, glad he appreciated her as she was, for she believed she was too old to change. “I think it’s time you kissed me.”

  “Long past time,” he said, leaning low and claiming her lips.

  For the duration of his kiss, she no longer felt the pain in her ankle, no longer worried about being dirty on Maggie’s sofa. She was Grayson’s fiancée, and he was going to become her husband!

  When he raised his head, she said, “I confess, I was worried when you so easily stopped…you know, what we were doing in the fishing shelter. Then when I found out you went to London, I didn’t know what to think.”

  He put a finger to her lips.

  “There was nothing easy about drawing away from you in the lean-to, silly woman. But I already knew I wanted you for my wife and that wasn’t the way I wanted to treat you”

  “You did know, didn’t you? You wrote the note many days ago.”

  He nodded. “And I didn’t want you finding it alone either and reading it without me beside you.”

  “True, it wouldn’t have been the same sharing your proposal with Bess. But the entire Kidd adventure, start to finish, was a wonderful birthday gift.”

  “Now you know all my secrets,” Grayson said.

  Secrets! She wasn’t going to start her engagement by withholding a secret from him, even if there were others that weren’t hers to disclose.

  Barely even hesitating, Eleanor made her confession. “I was teaching your mother to write. That’s why I stayed at Angsley Hall. That’s why I wouldn’t come away with you when you left. I had promised her, and I don’t break promises.”

  As long as he didn’t ask her anything more about it!

  His handsome brow crinkled into a frown. “Why on earth would she want to learn to write now?” Then he grinned. “But how wonderful. And you succeeded, in such a short time?”

  Eleanor nodded. “Your mother is very smart.”

  He looked proud. “As soon as your ankle has healed, we’ll go see her together and tell her our news.”

  “All right.” She was interrupted from saying more as John and Maggie returned.

  “There are only so many times we can stroll up and down our hallway,” the earl pointed out.

  “We didn’t hear a thing,” Maggie promised, though Eleanor would vow her sister already knew of her engagement, especially when the maid entered a moment later with champagne.

  Sure enough, Maggie added, “Let me see your ring.”

  A week and a half later, they were on horseback going to see Mrs. O’Connor. During that time, Eleanor had finished her letters to her mother, to her oldest sister, Jenny, and to Beryl with the added surprising news of her engagement. Since they were not members of nobility, and since no one gave a fig, they decided on a short engagement of two months so they could get to the wedded bliss—and the marriage bed—as quickly as possible.

  She’d also presented Grayson with her drawing of Percy, for which he vowed to build a frame and hang in their home as soon as she moved in. And she’d had the chance to sit with him under the stars on his captain’s walk.

  That evening, it seemed her life was unfolding before her, just like the night sky twinkling above, endless and filled with wonder.

  Yet, Eleanor couldn’t shake the pangs of anxiety when she thought of the upcoming visit to Angsley Hall. They would visit with his mother first, and then go see Lord and Lady Angsley.

  After putting their horses in the stable, they walked hand-in-hand toward the old granary lodge. Mrs. O’Connor spied them immediately as she was outside hanging her washing on a clothesline stretched between two straight birch trees. She hugged each of them in turn, and then Grayson told her their news.

  After his mother exclaimed with joy, Eleanor showed her the ring, and then they had to have another round of hugging.

  “Come in for tea,” Mrs. O’Connor invited. “I’m so excited to be having a daughter at last.”

  It seemed to Eleanor as though no time had passed since she had first been yanked into Mrs. O’Connor’s home, mistaken for Phoebe. On the other hand, she felt years older. And there was now a special bond between her and this woman whose son she loved beyond anything.

  Unfortunately, the knot of unease wouldn’t release, not while Eleanor knew there was a huge secret between mother and son.

  Casually, as the tea steeped in the blue pot covered in a knitted tea cozy to keep it hot, Grayson said, “Eleanor told me she taught you to read.”

  Mrs. O’Connor’s gaze flew to hers, and she smiled reassuringly at the older woman.

  “I didn’t want any secrets between Grayson and me, and I needed him to know why I’d stayed behind.”

  His mother nodded, realizing Eleanor had said nothing more.

  “What are you planning to write?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

  His mother hesitated, and Eleanor held her breath.

  “A letter,” Mrs. O’Connor said finally.

  “To whom?” he asked, and Eleanor wished he would leave his mother alone.

  Mrs. O’Connor turned to face her son fully. “I plan to write a letter to someone I love with all my heart. I told your wonderful young lady how it would mean the world to me if I could do so.”

  He stared at his mother. Eleanor could see he was thinking. If she were in his shoes, she might first wonder if his mother wanted to write to an old flame. But then, knowing how Mrs. O’Connor doted on him, he should realize the letter was to him.

  After a pause, he said, “Eleanor and I would be pleased if you would come live with us. There is plenty of room. And when we have children, it would be…,” he trailed off, for Mrs. O’Connor was already shaking her head.

  “I cannot. I can never live at Turvey House or on its property.”

  Another pause. Eleanor wished she understood. She and Grayson had discussed it and hoped the lure of grandchildren would bring his mother away from the granary lodge.

  “Are you in love with Mr. Stanley?” Grayson asked.

  Eleanor gasped right along with Mrs. O’Connor.

  The woman’s hand flew first to her throat and then to cover her mouth. She shook her head as if to say no, but when her words came out, they were in the affirmative.

  “I am. He is a sweet and caring man.”

  Grayson covered his mother’s hand. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

  Eleanor assumed their love was not new, but it was neither her nor Grayson’s place to probe further.

  “Do you have an understanding?” he asked.

  This time, his mother smiled. “We do. When he retires, not too long from now, he will be given three acres and a house. We shall marry or maybe just have a simple handfasting. It matters not. We shall live out our days together.”

  Grayson nodded. After the briefest hesitation, he asked, “Is he my father?”

  “What? No!” his mother said at once. “If your father were Mr. Stanley, why wouldn’t I have told you?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps to give me a better life than if I were the bastard child of a butler. Without a known father, I’ve been able to move easily between the world of servants and the Angsleys. For my whole life that I can remember, I’ve been the best friend of a man who inherited t
he earldom. Cam treats me like a brother. You made that possible by keeping my father a secret.”

  When his mother pursed her lips tightly, he shook his head.

  “It’s no matter. Now I know the reason you wouldn’t come live with me, even after you retired. You have your Mr. Stanley, and I’m happy for you.”

  However, Mrs. O’Connor didn’t look happy, not one bit. She rose to her feet and silently went into her bedroom.

  Eleanor exchanged a questioning look with Grayson.

  “Do you think she’s all right?” she asked.

  “Maybe you should go in there,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know what I said wrong.”

  Just then, his mother returned, her face pale, and Eleanor thought it was with fear, not anger. She looked terrified.

  “Eleanor, dear girl,” Mrs. O’Connor began, and she was positive Grayson’s mother was going to ask her to leave. “I want to thank you again for teaching me to write. And I shall use what you’ve given me. I might make up a poem or write down my recipes. Wouldn’t it have been nice if old Cook had done that before she passed?”

  She was talking quickly, clearly not expecting an answer. “And now, I can read, too. Those primers were easy, and I returned them to Nanny Wendall. I’ve borrowed a book by Ellis Bell, Wuthering Heights, and I don’t even know what the title means, but I’m muddling through it. Frankly, it’s a bit dour.”

  Grayson and Eleanor remained silent. They knew his mother wasn’t really wanting to have a discussion of literature at that moment. She had something else on her mind.

  She leaned a hand on the table, staring at her son.

  “Grayson, I haven’t told you the truth. Now you’re marrying, I know I did wrong keeping it from you. I don’t think it will make a difference, but you have a right to know. I was going to put it in a letter for after I’m gone.”

  “Mum!”

  “I know. That was being cowardly. Eleanor tried to tell me.”

  He turned to her, his eyes questioning. “Do you know what this is about?”

  How hurt he would be if she had known! She’d never been happier than that moment to be completely ignorant of something. “I do not. I promise.”

  “Of course not,” his mother said. “Listen, for I must get this out before I lose my nerve. I did something stupid when I was a lass, but I have no regrets because I have you.”

  He nodded. “Then I am a bastard?”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  Eleanor watched this unfolding, ready to jump in and assure him it made no difference to her desire to marry him, not a whit!

  “And the reason I can never live on the Cambrey estate is because,” Mrs. O’Connor hiccupped, and Eleanor realized the woman was beginning to cry, “because I promised your father I wouldn’t.”

  With that, she opened the hand she had fisted on the table and a gold ring rolled off her palm toward Grayson.

  He stared at it a moment before picking it up. Eleanor could see it was a signet ring, small enough for a man’s little finger, where it would rest, ready for sealing documents whenever necessary.

  “It was a mistake,” Grayson’s mother continued. “I thought I loved him, but, for him, I was a momentary madness. He truly loved his wife until the day he died, and I had vowed to him never to bring her a bit of grief.”

  Abruptly, Grayson stood up. “Does Cam know?”

  Eleanor was trying to follow what was happening, but they had lost her.

  “No. No one outside of this room. Your father took it to his grave.”

  Grayson slammed the ring onto the table, making all the cups and saucers jump, as well as the teapot and Eleanor. Then he turned, yanked open the door, and stalked out.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Gray,” Eleanor called after him. Then she turned to Mrs. O’Connor, her future mother-in-law, who had tears streaming down her face.

  “I don’t understand. Please tell me. What does it mean? Who is his father?”

  “Look at the ring, dear.”

  Eleanor picked it up, studying the plain gold ring with a G and a C cast into the flat surface.

  Their conversation came clear. “Gideon Cambrey,” she surmised, thinking of what this meant. “John wears one just like it.”

  “This is the original,” Grayson’s mother said. “The old earl—he wasn’t old, then, mind you, nor even that old when he died, poor man—he never wanted to hurt his wife, but he also wanted me to be able to prove my claim someday, at least to Gray. The earl made himself a new ring after he gave this one to me. But the G isn’t for Gideon. It’s for Godridius de Chambrai, a knight of William the Conqueror.”

  “William the Conqueror,” Eleanor couldn’t help echoing, thinking of a family line that stretched so far back in history.

  “The current earl, your sister’s husband, can tell you all about that. Every signet ring made for their family has always been the same.”

  Eleanor considered a moment. “John and Grayson already love each other like brothers. And the Angsleys…,” she trailed off.

  “They’ve always treated him like family.” His mother drew a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face.

  “But they didn’t know?” Eleanor asked.

  Mrs. O’Connor shook her head. “No. They all like Gray for his own sake. I hope that will be the saving grace.” She started to cry again. “Go find him. Make sure he’s all right. Ask him not to hate me.”

  Eleanor surged to her feet and embraced Mrs. O’Connor. “No, of course he doesn’t. He is just stunned. I’ll bring him back.”

  And setting the ring upon the table, she chased after her fiancé.

  Gray wanted to howl. This changed everything—who he was, how he fit in, why Gideon Cambrey had been so kind to him for all those years. The old earl was his father!

  “Arrrr,” he yelled, long and loud, staring at the rich blue sky.

  Today, of all days, it was a perfect autumn display with a brilliant gilded sun, without a single cloud, and not a drop of water raining down upon him. And yet he felt as though he were drowning.

  He knew Eleanor would find him, even if he hadn’t yelled. In a few minutes, he turned from where he was leaning against the railing, stroking Percy’s neck, and there she was.

  She looked uncertain, which twisted his gut.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, approaching closer.

  “I don’t know.” Was that his voice, so gruff and strange?

  “Tell me what you are thinking. What is the worst of this? And then I’ll remind you of the best.”

  “I’m thinking I am not the man I thought I was.”

  “You are.” She stood right beside him, setting her dainty foot, now healed, onto the first railing and then stepping up so their heads were at equal height.

  “You’re Grayson O’Connor, fruit of your mother’s womb. A capable man, an estate manager, loved by many, including me.” She leaned her shoulder against his. “And admired by all.”

  He couldn’t wrap it up into such a neat package. At least, not yet.

  “Cam—John—is my half-brother! Our father cheated on Cam’s mother with my mother. If he knew, that alone would hurt him. He revered his father.”

  He fell silent a moment, then shook his head. “John Angsley is truly my blood brother, yet I cannot tell him. For then, he would have to keep this secret from his mother. And that would gut him.”

  He groaned. “How will I look Lady Cambrey in the eyes when she returns from London?”

  “As you always have,” Eleanor assured him. “Look at her as a dear woman who has treated you with kindness and who took you into her home when you were a little boy, to be companion to her only surviving child.”

  He thought about that. “I’m glad she doesn’t know. She is a gracious lady, and she might have viewed me differently had she known I was her husband’s bastard. I’m glad he’s dead,” he finished, knowing he spoke harshly.

  She lay her hand upon his arm. “I nev
er knew him, but I have always understood Gideon Angsley to have been a kind and smart man. However, no one ever said he was infallible.”

  He looked at her, captivated by her soft brown eyes.

  “I cannot begrudge him his infidelity,” she added, “for I cannot bear the thought of you not existing. And I would wager everyone who knows you would feel the same way, particularly John.”

  He sighed, the best he could do in lieu of a smile.

  Eleanor reached her hand to the back of his neck, tugging at him to lean closer. When he did, she kissed him, full on the mouth, in front of Percy and any stable boy who might be watching. She even nibbled on his lower lip as she drew away.

  “Does that feel any different?”

  “No,” he said begrudgingly.

  “Are we still getting married?” she asked.

  “I’m a bastard,” he pointed out.

  She shrugged. “I’m happy to be Mrs. O’Connor. If I were another Angsley wife, like my sister, it would only confuse matters.”

  He smiled. How could she make light of such an important matter? Yet, with a few words, she had lessened the tension inside him.

  “Would you love the Angsleys or Beryl and her siblings or John any differently or any more if you had known?” she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder.

  He pondered her question. He’d always thought of them as family, and without knowing the truth, treated his cousins as his cousins and Cam as his brother.

  “No,” he agreed. “In my heart, everything is the same. Except now I know who my father was and what he was like, instead of him being a mysterious man from the distant past who never knew me.”

  “And the earl made sure to have you close so you would, indeed, know him,” she pointed out.

  Unexpectedly, tears pricked his eyes.

  Dammit! He was going to cry if he wasn’t careful.

  “Your mother is worried you hate her.”

  “Dear God! Of course not. She did everything for me, including giving me up to be raised by the man who didn’t love her and by the wife whom he adored.”