by Laura Landon
“I have to return.”
“When?”
“The end of next week. There’s a ship leaving on the twenty-third.”
Gabriel experienced a wave of unease. “I’m afraid you’ll have to make this trip by yourself.”
Austin laughed. “Are you worried that I’ll get lost without you?”
Gabriel answered him on a lighter note than he felt. “There’s always that possibility.”
“Hardly, my friend. If I do, Thorn will find me. He has that uncanny knack.”
Gabriel blinked twice as the haze clouding his eyes grew thicker. “Do you know what I regretted when I thought I might not survive? That I was going to die without knowing Thorn’s identity.”
Austin laughed. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? For more than a year we’ve taken orders from a man we’ve never met.” Austin leveled a serious expression at Gabriel. “Do you have any idea who he is?”
Gabriel shook his head. “All I know is…the man’s phenomenal. He knows exactly where to send us and what we’ll find when we arrive. He knows when every meeting is going to take place and what orders are going to come down before our commanding officers know. He’s got to have connections.”
“Do you think he’s a member of the nobility?”
Gabriel had already considered the possibility and knew he probably was. “That would explain how he has access to information only a very few in England have.”
“Is he the reason you knew about the papers the Russian general had?”
Gabriel nodded. “I got a note…with a thorn.” He wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer. Austin must have realized it too. He reached over to squeeze Gabriel’s shoulder, then stood.
“I’ll give our mysterious Thorn your regards if we meet.” He extinguished all the lamps in the room but one. “Now, get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Gabriel watched his friend take another step out of the room and stopped him. “Will you do me one favor before you sail?”
“Anything. What do you need?”
“A place…to live.”
“You’re not ready to leave. Harrison won’t hear of it and neither will I.”
Gabriel wanted to laugh but couldn’t. “It won’t be today, but—” He paused. “…soon.”
“It’s Lydia, isn’t it?”
“Staying here isn’t good for either of us.”
Austin stepped back into the shadows on the far side of the room. “Damn Chisolmwood for what he did to you and Lydia. Damn Father.”
“Things worked out for the best, considering. You and I would have gone to the Crimea. I would have come back…like I am.” Gabriel rubbed the ache in his leg while he waited for the laudanum to completely take over. “At least now…Liddy will have a partner…to dance with at all those balls she’s so fond of attending.”
“And what will you have?”
Gabriel breathed a heavy sigh. “I have a small estate…brothers are managing while I’m gone. When I’m well enough…I’ll go there. I always intended to…live in the country.”
“But that was when you thought Liddy would be there with you.”
Gabriel considered his solitary future and closed his eyes. “Get the hell out of here. That blasted poison you poured down my throat is clouding my mind. …can’t think straight.”
Austin walked across the room and closed the door behind him.
When the room was dark and quiet, Gabriel drifted to that place the laudanum took him where nothing was quite as it seemed – even the pain.
Starting tomorrow, though, he swore he wouldn’t need as much of the opiate as he needed today. And the day after, he’d need even less. He had to get well enough to leave here.
He knew he’d never be strong enough to stay under the same roof with her and not die a little every day because of what could never be.
CHAPTER 6
Lydia sat on the window seat in her bedroom and looked out onto the small flower garden to the rear of the house without noticing anything in particular. She hadn’t been to see him for nearly a month. Even when word came that the war was over, she hadn’t gone to his room to tell him.
She wanted to forget him, but that didn’t happen.
With a heavy sigh she leaned back against her cushioned armchair and dropped her hands to her lap. How many times would she have to relive his painful words, his brutal rejection, before she could exorcize him from her thoughts, her mind, her heart?
She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to forget the emotions that continually surfaced. Even after all this time, he refused to fade from her memory. How could she allow him to consume her like he did? She had her future to consider.
She was promised to the Marquess of Culbertson. Even if the announcement hadn’t been made public or the date set, the agreement her father had signed just weeks before his death was as binding as any legal document. As the future Duchess of Chisolmwood, she couldn’t afford for there to be a hint of scandal associated with her name. She owed that to her family as well as her future husband.
Lydia looked down at the crumpled letter in her hand and felt an unquenchable burning inside her. The message arrived from Austin just this morning and he’d asked that they share it with Gabriel. But that didn’t mean she had to deliver it. Harrison could. Or one of the servants.
She looked at the letter again. What was she afraid of? He meant nothing to her. Nothing! She intended to prove it – to herself and to him.
She bolted to her feet and turned toward the door. “Hannah,” she called over her shoulder and her maid came in from the dressing room. “Come with me.”
She walked down the hall and rapped twice on his door, then opened it when he beckoned. He wasn’t in bed like she’d assumed he would be, but sitting in a chair by the window. He looked much improved from the last time she’d seen him. Almost back to his former self.
Her heart raced the instant his gaze met hers. Dark lashes and brows framed his ebony eyes and although his bronzed complexion lacked the luster it had before he left, his handsome features still possessed a powerful pull that tugged deep inside her.
She stomped down her errant emotions and ground them beneath her heel before she crossed the room to where he sat. “You’re out of bed.”
He smiled. “I’m improving every day, thanks to your staff’s excellent care. I’ll be out on my own in no time at all.”
She frowned. He was better, but she noticed he sat with his injured leg propped on an ottoman. He’d been rubbing his thigh when she walked in but lifted his hand to the arm of the chair as if he didn’t want her to notice. “You won’t leave until you’re well enough,” she said. “Harrison won’t allow it.”
His smile faded. It was almost as if he dared Harrison – or anyone, to stop him.
“How is your leg?”
“Improving.”
“I’m glad.” She sat down in a chair beside him. “I have a letter from Austin. I thought perhaps you’d like to hear it.”
His head snapped to where she sat. “Yes.”
She unfolded the letter and began.
November 22, 1855
My Dearest Family,
By the time you read this, the war will be over. Although the czar has not officially surrendered, the Russian army has abandoned their fort at Sebastopol. They have nothing left. It is reported that over one hundred thousand men died during this siege alone.
I can imagine how you must have celebrated when you heard the war had ended, but Gabe alone will understand when I write that I cried. I wept not only for those who are fortunate enough to go home alive, but for all those who will never return. So many lives affected. So many families changed forever.
The war lasted a mere twenty-eight months and according to the latest tallies, nearly a million men gave their lives for their countries. Unfortunately, almost two-thirds of the deaths were attributed to disease, starvation, and exposure. If nothing else, I pray to God we have all learned a lesson from such a traves
ty. If we have, our country will be the stronger for it.
I wish I would be writing to tell you I am on my way home, but I am not. Her Majesty has need of me elsewhere, although I’m not at liberty to say where that might be. Just know that I am well and miss you more than you will ever know. Stay healthy and happy until I return.
Forever yours,
Austin
Gabe – Harrison tells me you are improving more every day. When I return we will go to the country. I do so long to be there.
She lowered the letter to her lap and looked up at him. His eyes were filled with tears and it was nearly her undoing.
“I miss him terribly,” she said, her voice husky with emotion.
“I know.”
“Do you have any idea where they sent him?”
He shook his head.
“You and Austin aren’t just ordinary soldiers, are you?”
She noticed a fleeting hint of detachment.
“We are both officers in Her Majesty’s Army.”
“And what exactly do you do that makes you and Austin so indispensable?” She folded the letter and placed it in her lap. “I know you relieved a Russian officer of some important papers that contained information vital to the outcome of the war. How did you happen to discover he had them?”
Gabriel remained focused on the scene outside the window. He obviously intended to ignore her probing questions. Except, she had no intention of giving up. “I overheard Austin say you were wounded in enemy territory. Are you and Austin spies?”
His brows arced. “We are soldiers,” he said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss something else. Harrison tells me you intend to keep him busy every night this week attending one function or another. Who is hosting the ball you cannot miss tonight?”
“Lord and Lady Parness. It’s their annual holiday ball and everyone who’s come back from the country will be there.”
“Does that include the Marquess of Culbertson?”
She didn’t even try to keep the haughty tone from her voice. “Of course. In fact, except for a short journey Geoffery took a few weeks ago, I have been with him each night this whole month.”
“How fortunate for you.”
She smiled. “Yes. Last night we attended the theatre and the night before a musicale at Lady Plunkett’s. And tonight, of course, we’re going to—”
Lydia stopped. Gabriel’s hand had dropped to his thigh and he clutched the muscles above his knee as if he’d been attacked. “Are you all right? Do you need something for the pain?”
“No, it will ease soon,” he gasped, then rubbed the area harder. “It just chooses the most inopportune times to…remind me it’s there.”
She looked at his face. He was unbelievably pale. Her heart increased its steady pounding in her chest. She rose to her feet and poured some liquid from the only decanter on the bedside table into a glass. It wasn’t the wine she remembered Austin using with the laudanum. This looked and smelled more like whiskey but maybe it worked better. “Where do you keep the laudanum?”
“I don’t need…any,” he said on a gasp.
He breathed heavier as his hand kneaded the top of his leg.
“You most certainly do.” She yanked open first one drawer then another, searching for the small brown bottle she remembered. “Where is it?”
“I’ve had it…removed.”
“Why?”
The corners of his mouth lifted as he attempted to smile through the pain. “You’ve obviously never been under the opiate’s influence or you’d…know. It’s not something…I could afford to continue to take…any longer.”
“Then what do you take for the pain?”
“You have it in your hand.”
Lydia poured a generous amount into the glass and handed it to him. He reached for the liquor with one hand but continued to rub his thigh with the other. His hand trembled.
“Here, let me.” She held the glass to his lips.
He took two swallows then pushed the glass away.
“Enough, or I’ll be in my cups before lunch.”
She tried to smile but couldn’t. He was in pain. Heavy beads of perspiration formed on his forehead and taut lines creased either side of his mouth.
An agonizing knot pinched the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t bear to see him in such agony. The torture she saw on his face was unbearable. She dropped to her knees in front of him and massaged his thigh.
For several long minutes they both worked his muscles. Her hand burned from the contact. She knew touching him would be her undoing. It was.
His gasping breaths battled with hers, his nostrils flared as he fought the pain.
She worked as furiously as she could, pressing, rubbing, grinding, kneading. From his knee to high on his thigh she ministered to erase the grimacing pain on his face.
Her body flamed from a heat that was part exertion, part desire. She recognized the difference and fought to keep the two in balance. She lost the battle.
With rigid determination, she leaned into him and pressed harder. His hands pressed atop hers. A wave of heat more intense engulfed every inch of her body, spiraling from where his hands connected to hers, to the pit of her stomach – then lower.
In unison they circled the knotted muscles until the hardness eased. In unison they rode the waves of turmoil that ended when Gabriel sank back against the cushioned chair and dropped his hands to his side.
He slowly held out one trembling hand as a signal.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, lifting her gaze to look at him.
“I think you should never have started,” Harrison’s harsh-sounding voice said from behind them.
Lydia looked over her shoulder to see her brother, Harrison, standing in the doorway - with the Duke of Chisolmwood.
___
Gabriel moved his gaze from the woman kneeling at his feet. He knew if he looked at Harrison he’d see anger at finding his sister here. But he wasn’t interested in Harrison’s reaction. He focused his gaze instead on the bastard who’d ruined his life a year ago, a man he’d hoped never to see again.
The two faced each other, the duke as pompous and arrogant as he’d been the day he’d taken away everything that was important to him. Except this time was worse. This time he wasn’t even able to rise to his feet to face him at an equal level.
“Lady Lydia,” Chisolmwood said, turning his attention to where Lydia stood, still close to Gabriel’s chair.
Gabriel took satisfaction in Liddy’s reaction. She faced Chisolmwood with her head held high and not a hint of embarrassment or guilt on her face.
“Good day, Your Grace. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Is it?” the duke answered with condescending politeness.
“Of course. I wasn’t expecting callers.”
“That much is obvious. You can imagine my surprise at finding you here alone in the major’s room.”
Gabriel gripped the arms of the chair. He was prepared to come to Lydia’s defense but stopped when he saw her back straighten and her shoulders lift.
“I’m hardly alone,” she said, nodding to where Hannah now stood beside her chair. “My maid has been with me the entire time.”
“I hardly consider servants proper chaperones.” Chisolmwood stepped into the room, his pace slow and menacing. “And neither will most of Society.” He locked his hands behind his back. “The last thing I will abide is a scandal involving the woman my son intends to marry.”
“I assure you,” Harrison said, “that no improprieties have occurred between my sister and Major Talbot.”
“Of course they haven’t,” the duke answered, the glare in his eyes icy cold. “We all know how disastrous that would be. For everyone.” He turned toward Harrison. “Especially you, Etherington.”
Fire flashed in Harrison’s eyes. His hands clenched to tight fists.
“Harrison?” Lydia stepped toward her brother. Several deep frown lines etched her brow. “I’m not sure
I understand.”
Gabriel clamped his fingers around the arm of the chair and struggled to keep from rising. If he were strong enough to make it to his feet, he’d hit the bloody bastard. And hitting him once wouldn’t be enough.
He was afraid he wouldn’t stop until he was dead.
Harrison dropped his gaze to his sister. “It’s all right, Liddy.”
The duke recovered smoothly. “Yes, there’s nothing to concern yourself with, my dear. Just suffice it to say that we all understand how important it is to avoid even the slightest misunderstanding. And how imperative it is for you and my son to announce your betrothal. Soon.”
Chisolmwood smiled at Lydia. “Perhaps avoiding the major altogether would eliminate any disaster and give you and my son ample time to make a decision.”
“Of course,” Lydia agreed, her voice sounding contrite and amiable.
Gabriel shot her a look. Agreeing so readily was totally unlike her. And yet…
Why wouldn’t she agree with Chisolmwood? The man was going to be her father-in-law. His son was the man she was going to marry. She hadn’t been there the day he’d threatened her father and brothers. She had no idea what he was capable of.
“Now,” Chisolmwood said, giving Gabriel his full attention. “I’ll get to the reason I’ve come. With the war at an end, news of the part you played in its conclusion is widespread. My son insists that your heroism needs to be acknowledged. He tells me it is my duty to host a gathering in which you will be given the accolades you deserve.”
Gabriel experienced an explosive flash of anger. There had been nothing heroic in what he’d done. He’d simply followed the orders someone else had given him. If anyone needed to be honored, it was the man he and Austin had dubbed “Thorn”. He was the one who had somehow ferreted out the information that led Gabriel to a meeting where the Russian general would in all likelihood leave with important papers in his pocket. All Gabriel had done was take them.
But even if he’d single-handedly brought the war to an end, the Duke of Chisolmwood was the last person he would allow to host a gathering to honor him. He rubbed his palms across the knot in his thigh that had begun to ache again.
