Surrendering the Past (The Granville Legacy Series Book 1)

by Pamela Lynne

  “Mr. Hale, I am quite surprised to see you tonight. Everyone thought you had become a hermit.”

  A much older gentleman was only a step behind her, but he was not noticed at all until he spoke. “Indeed, Hale, it is good to see you, son. Where have you been hiding yourself these last few seasons?”

  “I have been attempting to focus on estate issues, sir. And, of course, there are family obligations.”

  “Yes, yes, the entire town is buzzing over your uncle’s unexpected engagement. I just spoke to Miss Dawson, and she seems to be a lovely girl. Now, who do we have here?”

  Everyone turned to Amy, who was trying her best not to be intimidated by the beauty and elegance of the woman standing before her. “This is Miss Dawson’s younger sister, Miss Amy Dawson. Miss Amy, this is Mr. Oliver Wallace and his wife, Mrs. Amelia Wallace. Mr. Wallace’s estate borders mine. He was a good friend to my father.”

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Amy. Hale here certainly has one of the jewels of the kingdom on his arm tonight.”

  Julian looked down to see that he had somehow laced Amy’s arm within his own. It had been unintentional and could have been interpreted as far more than a friendly gesture, yet he did not release her.

  Amy bowed her head slightly. “Thank you, sir. I am very pleased to meet you both.”

  A short pause followed as everyone seemed to be waiting for a comment from Mrs. Wallace, who had yet to make eye contact with anyone but Julian. When she finally did, Amy felt herself shrink even more under her overly polite smile.

  “I believe I heard you are from Surry. I hope you are enjoying your time in London.”

  “Oh yes. We have had many delightful diversions, and this trip to the theatre has been most anticipated.”

  Mrs. Wallace’s smile did not change as she looked Amy over from head to toe. “How sweet and unaffected you are.” Then turning to her husband, she continued. “Though the company here is so darling, we really must get back to Lord Hensley’s box.”

  “Yes, I suppose we must. I do wish Amelia had found a way to decline that particular invitation. That man is so full of himself that I would not be surprised to see the buttons on his waist coast fly through the air by the end of the evening. Hale, stop all this work, and come into society more often. Your presence is missed, my boy.”

  The gentleman did not wait for a reply before leading his wife out of the box. Julian assisted Amy to her seat and excused himself. He had made his way to the refreshments table when Richard caught up with him.

  “What has you rushing out of the box, Cousin?”

  “I am not rushing anywhere, merely fetching Miss Amy some wine before the play begins.”

  “You know Litchfield’s footmen carry better wine than this. You did not need to take so many steps nor leave Miss Amy in such a hurry. She looked concerned.”

  “I needed a moment alone, of which you have so kindly robbed me.”

  Richard placed his hand on Julian’s shoulder and turned him around. “Jules?”

  His cousin’s concern was obvious, and Julian sighed. “Will you escort the ladies back to Sloane Street?”

  “I had planned to.”

  “I will wait up for you then.”

  Richard nodded. “Well, whatever has soured your mood, do not let it affect Miss Amy’s enjoyment of the evening. Miss Dawson has managed to smile after a hellish start. I would not want anything else to go wrong tonight.”

  On the way back to the box, Richard told Julian more about the dress debacle and the tension that remained all the way to the theatre. When they reached it, they saw a familiar face emerging from the curtains.

  “Colonel McAlister?” Richard’s commanding officer was a surprising sight, at least in such close proximity to his family. Those were two worlds he liked to keep separate.

  “Granville! There you are. I was just in your father’s box looking for you.”

  “Oh? Is there something I can do for you, sir?”

  “Oh no, no. I just saw your family here and thought to pay my respects.”

  “I did not know you knew my father.”

  “Not personally, no, but I have previously made the acquaintance of your brother somewhere in town.”

  The man was lying. Richard could see it plainly in his eyes. He wondered how a man could be so good at leading his officers into the bloodiest of battles but not have the stomach for deception.

  “Perhaps at the card tables?”

  McAlister smiled slightly and nodded his head. “It is likely so. Your brother has quite the knack for card playing. I do not believe I have ever seen him lose. Well, I should return to my own party. I hope the time off is good for you, Granville.”

  The man smiled and walked away. The last bit of genuine civility did nothing to calm Richard’s suspicions.

  “What are you contemplating now, Cousin?”

  “I have seen that man fight valiantly in battle and have been proud to serve under him. In most every way, he is an honorable gentleman.”

  “Except?”

  “Except for his weakness for cards. Any gambling, really.”

  “Well, men are rarely just one thing.”

  Richard walked into the box and saw Wesley standing with the Blanchard ladies. “Indeed.”

  * * *

  “Well, Rachel, what do you have to say for yourself? Did your plan work?”

  Rachel merely lifted her eyebrows, so her sister felt free to speak for her. “Yes, it did. Father is so put out by her choice of companion that he is happy to send them both to live with Aunt Isobel.”

  “Yes, having two women in the house with their own minds is far too much for him.”

  “Rachel,” Wesley admonished and then looked to see if Blanchard had heard her. “Do be careful with your words. You are not out of his house yet.”

  “I do not know why you want to live with her, Sister. She is senile and mean. The last time I saw her, she kept calling me by her sister’s name, and we all know how much she likes her.”

  “Perhaps there is another choice. Kathleen, I have made appointments for us to look at several townhouses that are available for lease. I do not know yet when we will announce our engagement, but there will be more houses available after the season is over if you would prefer to wait. Perhaps, Rachel, you could live with us rather than your aunt.”

  Both women looked at him curiously.

  “Wesley, why in the world would we lease a townhouse? There is plenty of room at your father’s.”

  “It is not about room, Kathleen. I know you expected to act as mistress once we are married. Now that he is to be married, you will simply be another member of the household.”

  Kathleen huffed. “You are out of your wits if you believe I am going to let that country upstart remove me from the house before I even have the chance to move in.” She saw the looks on the faces of her companions and calmed herself. “I may not be mistress of the house, but I will have plenty to do. Miss Dawson will need a great deal of guidance. Mother has already spoken to me about it, and I am prepared to make sure the new countess will not bring embarrassment to the family. If left to her own devices, she is likely to let pigs run through the kitchens.”

  Wesley looked down on her sternly. “We do not have to talk about it tonight, but we will speak more about it.” The tone of his voice told her she would not get her way in this, so she removed her arm from his, curtsied, and walked away to join her parents.

  “Well, now you have done it, Wesley. She will be as cold as ice toward you for at least a fortnight. Why are you so determined not to live in your father’s house?”

  “I do not believe it will be the proper environment for my wife.”

  “Because of Miss Dawson? I find her quite lovely, inside and out.”

  “Yes, she and her sister are both sweet and genuine.”

  “I can understand why you would not want them around Kathleen then.”

  Wesley sighed. “I am glad you like Miss D
awson. I had hoped Kathleen would befriend her, but after the things she just said, I suppose it is best not to encourage an intimacy there. Perhaps you will do for a friend, if you can keep your pert opinions to a minimal.”

  Rachel laughed and took his arm. “I make no promises in that regard, but I do like her, and being in her company would be no hardship for me.”

  “Good. Let us get the two of you into seats next to each other before anyone has the chance to separate you.”

  * * *

  Richard sat in the last chair in the third row of seats, paying closer attention to the crowd than to the play. Just before the performance began, he watched Wesley maneuver Jane away from Litchfield and seat her in between Amy and Rachel. He was pleased to see the ladies smiling and chatting but wondered at his brother’s actions. He did not usually do anything that would bring his father’s ire, but one look at Litchfield told him he had done just that. Wesley returned his father’s look but said nothing, taking a seat next to Lord Blanchard.

  Scanning the crowd, Richard finally spotted the one red coat he was looking for. Colonel McAlister sat in the arena with companions he did not recognize. Richard kept up with his movements throughout the first acts of the play. Shortly after intermission, McAlister left his seat and walked up the aisle toward the entrance. Richard made no move to follow him but looked to the row just in front of him to see that Wesley was gone, too.

  Chapter 8

  Julian sat in his darkened study, the only light coming from a single candle burning on his desk. The room was chilled, but Julian received warmth from the brandy in his hand, his third of the night. He had not given much thought to going to the theatre that evening, even though he avoided society as much as he could. He came to town during the season to see to obligations of business and occasionally see old school friends at his club. The Dawson ladies’ excitement over the outing was infectious, however, and for the first time in years, he had not thought of whom he would see if he were to venture into larger parties. And then, like a specter moving through walls, there she was.

  Memories came upon him like a runaway carriage, and he could not have stopped them even if he had wanted to. They were as tender as they were excruciating, and the torrent they caused inside of him sent him tumbling into his study an hour before, desperate to numb the effects.

  Somewhere outside the haze of memories and brandy, he could hear his cousin calling his name. Knowing Richard would not relent and that he could no longer disguise his torment, Julian answered.

  “You wished to know what took me out of society.”

  Richard nodded.

  “Well, you saw her tonight. You remember Amelia Wallace.”

  Richard leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “Mrs. Amelia Wallace? I do indeed. I remember her paying particular attentions to you, and I remember warning you about the dangers of becoming involved with a married woman.”

  “Yes, well, I did not listen. God, I was enchanted by her, Richard. I had never seen a more enticing woman, and she was married to an old man.”

  “That old man was a friend of your father, was he not?”

  Julian rose and walked to the fireplace. Leaning on the mantel, he folded his arms across his chest and sighed. “Yes, and it was when he came to be of assistance after my father died that the attraction I already felt for her grew. I tried my best to be strong and focus on my duties rather than my grief, but I was torn apart. I found myself suddenly all alone in the world, and she was very…comforting. I could not have resisted her even if I had wanted to.”

  “How long did the affair last?”

  “Months. We were both so miserable in our separate lives that those stolen hours together became a source of salvation. I fell in love with her, but it was tainted by the sin in which we were both indulging. The need and desperation for her were nearly unbearable. My duties at home and here made it difficult after a while, and our encounters were not as frequent. It was during that time that I began to think about what I was doing. But the guilt would be quickly brushed aside when I saw her.”

  He ran his hands over his face and then retrieved his glass.

  “The push and pull were tearing me apart. I travelled to London for the season, but, of course, it was really only to see her. We managed to be alone once, here at the townhouse. Then she disappeared. I did not see her anywhere in town and finally heard she and her husband had retreated to the country for the duration of her confinement.

  “Mentally, I retraced all our encounters and was able to acquit myself of responsibility for her condition. The times did not seem to add up. I, too, retired to the country to nurse my wounds. For more than four years, I avoided seeing either of them, though I still carried the scars from the affair. I could not look on her without longing or her husband without guilt.”

  “Good God, Julian. You told me none of this, not even when I was staying with you here.”

  “I was ashamed and, quite frankly, did not want to hear your admonishments.”

  “I would have admonished you. You are not the kind of man who would take another man’s wife to his bed. What were you thinking?”

  “I was not, obviously. I allowed my passions to overrule my head. I was just so damned tired of feeling alone.”

  Richard was silent for a moment, knowing the full force of that particular feeling. “Have you seen them at all?”

  Julian took a long, shaky breath followed by a longer drink. “Yes, a few months ago. I was riding out over the estate one day, close to the northern border, and came across Wallace. He called out to me and then amiably admonished me for my absence at all their parties of late. He reminded me of what I owe to the neighborhood. I am sure he said more, but my attention was on the child he cradled so carefully on his lap. Wallace noticed where my eyes had traveled and proudly introduced me to his son. I sat on my horse, Richard, and looked down on the child, and I could swear I was looking into my own eyes.”

  Richard let out an expletive and leaned back into his seat. “You cannot be sure he is yours, Julian.”

  “Amelia confirmed it. I rode out to their estate the next day and managed to speak to her before Wallace joined us. As soon as she saw me, she knew that I knew and begged me to let it go. She gave me this.”

  Julian pulled two items from his desk drawer and handed them to Richard, who inhaled sharply at the sight of two miniature portraits of nearly identical infants.

  “The one in your left hand is me. You cannot deny the resemblance.”

  Richard shook his head. The Granville resemblance was undeniable. “No, indeed.”

  Ire replaced the defeat in Julian’s voice. “My son is being raised as another man’s heir. Wallace is so proud. His first wife died without producing children, and he and Amelia were married for several years before she was pregnant. He is pleased to finally have a son. I have made a fool of a good man and must live with the fact that my son is forever out of my reach. My father would be ashamed.”

  “Blast, Julian, I know not what to say to you.”

  “You have no words of admonishment?”

  “No. You are a grown man feeling the full weight of your mistakes. I will not add to it. I will only advise you to try your best to forget about it. This child is Wallace’s son and heir. She is his wife.”

  “I wish I had not gone tonight. The guilt had begun to fade, or perhaps it was only hidden. Seeing them only reminds me of the man I have failed to be.”

  “You are still a good man, Julian. One mistake, huge though it may be, does not alter that. The fact that it tears away at you should be proof enough. I know no other man who would take it to heart as much as you have.”

  “Illegitimacy it not something that should be made light of. I will never forgive myself for making my son a bastard.”

  “He will only be considered such if the truth comes out. Wallace is a good man. That boy will want for nothing.”

  Julian nodded. “There is some comfort in that.”

  �
��Then take that and move forward. You cannot keep hiding. Take it from a man who has run away his entire life. The demons follow wherever you may go. You must face them if you are ever to have peace.”

  “Is that what you have done, faced your demons?”

  Richard rose from his seat and drained the contents of the brandy decanter into his glass.

  “No, I have not. But it is time I did.”

  “I do not like that look on your face, Cousin. Should I be worried?”

  “Probably so, but I ask you do not. I threatened to kill my father tonight. It is not the first time I have done so, but I could see in his eyes that it was the first time he believed me.”

  “Richard, Litchfield is not one to take threats lightly.”

  Richard smiled slightly before taking a drink. “I know.”

  “What prompted this particular threat?”

  Aided by the brandy, Richard spoke more than his usual habit. “I had never seen anything as lovely as Jane as she entered the room tonight. The dress she wore was stunning, but it was her expression that was truly beautiful. She was comfortable, confident, seemingly ready to take on an army if she had to. Litchfield took that all away with a few words, and when she returned downstairs, she looked like every other lady of the ton—well trained and quite ordinary.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I know not.” Richard placed his glass back on the table and turned to face his cousin. “But I do know I cannot let her marry him.”

  * * *

  The Earl of Litchfield despised weakness, and his public persona as the strong, debonair gentleman of means was one that he maintained without fault. To that end, he did not imbibe anything stronger than wine, and never to access. Nor did he take part in the gaming tables. Matters of chance made him nervous, and he insisted on having tight control over his life at all times. Knowing that his eldest son partook in both drink and cards angered him, and Wesley knew when his father entered the room and saw him with brandy in his hand and the half empty decanter on the table beside him that Litchfield would deliver a firm tongue lashing. It did not stop him, however, from taking another drink as soon as his father walked in.