Anne Gracie - [The Devil Riders 02]

by His Captive Lady

  “Because he’s one of those cold, superior types who hold the rest of the world in contempt,” he said without hesitation. “He made life a misery for Gabe and me during the short time we were at the same school. He’s a ruthless bastard.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “He and his friends hounded us out of that school.”

  “I thought you were expelled for fighting.”

  His head snapped around. “How did you know that?”

  “Your aunt told me.”

  He grunted. “It’s true enough. It was Marcus we fought. Him and Nash and the rest of their bullyboy snob friends. You’ll see what he’s like when you meet him. You could pick him out of a crowd—he’s got the coldest eyes in the world.”

  “Then why would he offer to host our wedding?”

  Gabe snorted. “My bet is that he was press-ganged into it by our mutual aunt. Once that woman gets an idea in her head she’s like a cavalry charge, sweeping all before her.”

  “Yes,” Nell said, smiling. “And you’re all too fond of her to object.”

  He snorted, but he didn’t deny it.

  She watched the passing scenery and thought about what Harry had told her. It seemed Nash had been more or less forgiven for their schoolboy enmity, but Marcus hadn’t. Why?

  And if Harry was still so resentful of the earl, then why had Gabe agreed to stay at Alverleigh? The two brothers were very close. She knew enough to know that if Gabe wasn’t already at Alverleigh, wild horses wouldn’t have dragged Harry there.

  Finally they passed through the ornate wrought iron gates and headed up the long, curving drive. Alverleigh House took her breath away. It was huge, four stories high, with a central section and two sweeping wings. Twelve Palladian columns supported the curved front entrance, which was reached by a very grand set of wide marble steps. The raked gravel driveway curved around a magnificent formal garden in the center. In the sweeping lawn to the left of the building stood a large clipped maze. On the right stretched a magnificent informal garden in the style of Capability Brown. Its focal point was a wide lake with an island featuring a picturesque ruin of a Greek temple.

  Nell’s nervousness grew in the face of all this grandeur. “You didn’t tell me it was this big,” she said, straightening her clothes and hair.

  “I didn’t know. I’ve never been here before,” he said, surprising her. “It’s Gabe’s first visit, too—and he’s a legitimate son.”

  No wonder he was bitter. But there was no time to discuss anything further, for the horses were slowing and servants came running to assist them to alight and take their baggage.

  A tall gentleman came hurtling down the steps, three at a time. There was no need for Nell to ask who he was; he was the spitting image of Harry, except his hair was darker.

  The two men embraced, thumping and hugging each other joyfully in a violent masculine fashion.

  “Uncle Harry,” a high little voice shrieked and Nell turned to see two small boys hurtling at breakneck speed down the steps, the smaller of the two making no concession to an ungainly limp that was an uncanny echo of Harry’s.

  “Nicky!” Harry picked the limping boy up and whirled him around, laughing. “And Jim. How you’ve both grown.” He grabbed the other little boy and slung a boy over each shoulder where they dangled, upside down, shouting in mock indignation and giggling.

  He would make a wonderful father, she thought wistfully. She could just imagine him with a little girl . . .

  Nell saw she was being observed by an upside-down prince and forced herself to smile. “I know exactly how that feels,” she told him.

  Laughing, Harry put the boys down and introduced her.

  “So, my new sister, delighted to meet you,” Gabriel Renfrew said with a warm smile. He kissed her on the cheek. He had very blue eyes, otherwise the resemblance was amazing.

  To Nell’s enchantment, both little boys received their introduction with beautiful formality, clicking their heels in unison and bowing stiffly in the Prussian manner. Then they rushed off to look at Sabre, who’d been brought by a groom.

  “Young savages,” Gabriel Renfrew laughed, and linked his arm with Nell’s. “Come and meet Callie, she’s been dying to meet you.”

  “But the boys need to watch out for Sabre—” Nell began.

  “They’re Zindarian boys—or Jim’s as good as,” Gabe told her. “They’re used to the ways of Zindarian horses. Sabre is a pussycat compared to some in the royal stables. Ah, here’s my Callie now.” His voice warmed.

  At the top of the steps stood a woman with dark curly hair and a sweet expression. The princess. She was small and round. Very round.

  Nell faltered, staring up at her. The princess smiled down at Nell. Harry hurried up the steps ahead of Nell to greet the princess with a hug and a kiss.

  Nell didn’t move. There was a reason why the princess was so round. She was pregnant. Ripely, gloriously pregnant.

  “Are you all right?” Harry’s brother said beside her.

  “Yes, just recovering from the jolting of the carriage,” Nell said brightly, and with a deep breath she climbed the steps to meet her pregnant future sister-in-law. One step at a time.

  “I’m so happy to meet you,” the princess said, giving Nell a warm hug. “Welcome to the family. I’ve always wanted a sister.”

  It was such a warmhearted and generous greeting that Nell forgot her nerves. She smiled. “Me, too.”

  The princess turned, saying, “Where is Tibby? I’d thought she’d followed me out.”

  “The post arrived fifteen minutes ago,” an elegant, loose-limbed man said from behind her. “There was a letter for her. Marcus gave it to her in the hall just now.”

  Since he was not Marcus, he must be Nash, Nell thought. He was clearly a Renfrew.

  Nash shook Harry’s hand warmly and kissed Nell’s hand in a gallant manner. “Welcome to the family, Lady Helen,” he said with a dazzling smile. “I hear you’re an outstanding horsewoman. I hope you’ll come out riding with me one morning.”

  “That would be lovely, thank you,” Nell told him. Charm was right.

  As they turned to go in, a tall, serious-looking man with a grave, unsmiling face came out of the house. The earl.

  He bowed formally to Harry and bowed over Nell’s hand in the correct manner. “Welcome to Alverleigh, Lady Helen, Harry,” he said. “My butler will escort you to your rooms.”

  Nell met his gaze and caught her breath. There was a clear family resemblance between all the brothers, but where Gabriel and Nash both had very blue eyes, the earl’s eyes were gray: cold, smoky gray. He had Harry’s eyes. It was uncanny.

  The earl continued. “Tea will be served in the green sitting room in half an hour. Someone will come to show you the way.” He gave her a clipped nod, then turned away.

  The coldest eyes in the world, Harry had called them. She’d thought the same about Harry when she first looked into his eyes. And then he’d given her his hat.

  Nell, still trying to take everything in, was grateful when Harry took her arm and steered her in the wake of the butler.

  She’d expected to be put in different wings for the sake of propriety, but the butler conducted her and Harry along the same corridor, which made her hopeful. The size of the place was a little intimidating. One could easily get lost.

  The butler opened a door. “Your bedchamber, Lady Helen.”

  “What a lovely room,” Nell exclaimed. “And look at the view.”

  “Lady Gosforth requested this room especially for you m’lady,” the butler told them. “And Mr. Morant, if you would step this way, please?” Harry disappeared.

  Nell explored her room. It was even more luxurious than Lady Gosforth’s London town house. There was a door set into the side in the wall, and out of curiosity, she opened it.

  It led to another bedchamber—Harry’s. He sat on the bed reading a letter.

  “Oh, you’re in here,” she said.

  He jumped about a foot and thrust the letter in h
is pocket.

  “What’s that?” Nell asked him.

  “Nothing. Just a letter from Ethan. About nothing. Horses, bills, the usual thing. Nice rooms, aren’t they? Aunt Maude requested this one especially for me, the butler said. Adjoining rooms. I told you she knew.”

  Nell had to agree. Up to that point Nell had been certain that Lady Gosforth had no idea that she and Harry had anticipated their wedding vows.

  But she didn’t care about that in the least at present. Something had changed. There was an air of tension about him, different from the way he’d been when they first arrived.

  “Are you sure that’s all the letter was about?”

  “Yes.” There was a grim look in his face as he told her, “It just confirmed something I thought all along.”

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “It’s to do with business. Nothing to do with you.”

  Nell frowned. “Even if it’s horrid news, I’d rather know.” “It’s not horrid news. I’m very pleased to get it.” He kissed her, a brief decisive kiss. “But it’s men’s business.”

  She stamped her foot. “No, I hate this. I want to know.” He wasn’t telling her the truth. Years of experience with her father loomed.

  He gave her a stern look. “Don’t argue with me about this, Nell. This is men’s business. Now, wash your face and hands and we’ll go downstairs.”

  “And this is my dear friend Miss Tibthorpe,” said Princess Caroline, who was presiding over the tea tray. “Tibby, this is Harry’s bride-to-be, Lady Helen Freymore.”

  The woman called Tibby didn’t move. A small, thin, sharp-featured woman in her middle thirties, she stood with her hand pressed to her bosom, staring out of the window.

  “Tibby?” the princess said.

  Tibby started and looked around. “Oh, please forgive me,” she said hurriedly. “I was miles away. Lady Helen, how do you do?”

  “Is anything the matter, Tibby? Not bad news, is it?”

  Tibby looked at her blankly. “No.” She flushed. “I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t read it yet. Please excuse me, I need to . . .” And she ran out of the room.

  “Do forgive her,” the princess said. “She does this every now and then when a letter from a certain person arrives. She’s always a little agitated afterward.”

  Nell knew how she felt. What had Ethan said in the letter that had caused that grim look in Harry’s eyes? It was very unsettling. If she didn’t know better, she’d think . . .

  The princess picked up the teapot. “But look at me, rattling on about Tibby when you’ve only just met her. Let us pour the tea. Lady Gosforth has retired to her bedchamber to lie down until dinner and the men and boys have gone off to the odious stables to look at some horrid horse, so we won’t wait for them. Don’t you just loathe horses?”

  “No,” Nell said. “I adore them. I’m planning to breed them.”

  The princess laughed. “Then you’re marrying into the right family. Every single member of it is horse obsessed. Except me. Now, do you take milk or lemon? Neither? Good.” She passed Nell a cup of tea. “And now you shall tell me how you met Harry.”

  Nell smiled and took a sip of tea. “I’m not sure where to start, Princess Carolin—”

  The princess held up her hand. “Please, you must call me Callie, as the others do. We are going to become sisters. I’ve never had a sister and I always longed for one.”

  “I’m the same,” Nell said.

  Callie lifted her cup to drink and suddenly gasped. A faraway look came into her eyes.

  After a moment, she blushed and looked shyly at Nell. “My baby moved. I’m sorry, I know it is indelicate of me to mention such a thing, especially in front of an unmarried girl, but this baby is so precious to me.”

  Nell shook her head, her eyes prickling with tears. “I don’t think it’s indelicate at all, and you need not mind me.”

  Callie laid her hand on her swollen belly. “For nine years after Nicky’s birth I thought I was barren and, oh—” She broke off again.

  Nell smiled at the look of rapture in the princess’s lovely green eyes and remembered how she’d first felt the miracle of Torie moving inside her. She said softly, “It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world, isn’t it? Feeling that tiny flutter beneath your heart and knowing that there’s a tiny babe growing inside you. And feeling such intense love . . .”

  She stopped suddenly, aware she’d said too much.

  The princess stared at her wide-eyed.

  Nell bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone, but it had just slipped out. And now it had, she didn’t regret it. It it was right for Harry’s family to know. They’d welcomed her as one of them. Her secret would come out eventually—look at how easily it had slipped out with the princess. And Aunt Maude. And if they found out later rather than sooner, well, that would feel like a betrayal of their trust. She wanted their acceptance, but not under false pretenses. She wanted them to know the truth. She took a deep breath and began.

  By the time the men arrived from the stables the tea was cold and Nell had told the whole story to Callie. The only part she left out was Sir Irwin. She was determined to bury that part of her life completely.

  In the telling, both women had wept and embraced and Nell had found a friend. A sister.

  Harry took one look at the swollen eyes of the two women and guessed what they’d been talking about. He sent the boys to the kitchen and was about to hustle his brothers away when Nell interrupted him. “No, please, everyone, come in. There is something I have to tell you all. It has been weighing on my conscience—”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to them,” Harry snapped.

  “No, Harry. If I am to become part of your family, they should know the truth. I would feel like an impostor otherwise.”

  “What rot. You are to be my wife. No impostor about it.”

  “He’s right.” Gabriel crossed the room and put his arm around his wife. “You don’t have to tell us a single thing. You are to be Harry’s wife, and that’s enough for any of us.”

  “I agree.” Callie took Nell’s hand and squeezed it in a silent show of support.

  Neither Nash nor the earl said anything.

  Nell looked at Harry. “If you ask me to, I will say nothing.”

  He gave her a goaded look. “It’s not me I’m worried about, you foolish woman. Tell them whatever you like, it makes no difference to me.” He came and stood beside her, arms folded, like a protector.

  “Then I want to explain,” she said. “I would rather my story didn’t leave this room, but—”

  “Rest assured, it won’t.” Nash crossed the room and sat down. The earl remained standing stiffly beside the doorway.

  Quickly and simply Nell told her story. In a calm voice born of emotional exhaustion, she told them everything, from discovering she was pregnant to seeing the basket of vegetables on the church steps.

  She didn’t tell them how she had come to be pregnant in the first place. That was nobody’s business but hers.

  “And so,” she finished, “now you know.”

  Callie jumped up and hugged her wordlessly. None of the men moved. They were all looking at the earl.

  There was a long silence. Then the earl cleared his throat. “I have a question.”

  Everyone stiffened. Nell tensed as beside her Harry clenched his fists.

  Nell straightened, as if about to face sentence. “Yes?”

  “Your father is dead.”

  Nell blinked. “Yes.”

  “And you have no male relatives in this country?”

  “That is correct,” she said with a quick glance at Harry. He shook his head, as mystified as any of them as to what the earl was getting at.

  The earl cleared his throat again and looked at her with Harry’s eyes. “Then may I offer my services to give the bride away?”

  “I still don’t trust him,” Harry growled in bed that night. “One gallant gesture doesn’t wipe out the thin
gs he’s done in the past.”

  “But didn’t Nash do them, too? You seem to have forgiven him.”

  “Yes, but he was younger than Marcus. Marcus was always the leader. And besides, Nash apologized last year. And he helped Gabe and Callie a great deal.”

  “Maybe Marcus will apologize, too.”

  He snorted. “Pigs might fly. He’s too stiff-necked to apologize about anything. And some things can’t be cured with words.”

  He’d been very badly hurt, she saw. “What did he do to you?” she asked softly.

  He gave her a flat look. “You’re going to keep on about this, aren’t you?”

  “It’s just that I don’t understand. I’ll always take your side anyway, you know that. But I would like to understand.”

  He sighed. “Very well. But get comfortable, it’s a long story and not very interesting, so you’ll probably fall asleep.”

  She snuggled in. And he told her the story of his first love, Anthea, who’d betrayed him in the worst way and watched secretly as he was thrashed to within an inch of his life.

  Nell was horrified and angry and hugged him convulsively as if somehow she could comfort his youthful self.

  And somehow he did feel comforted.

  “And then they took me, half naked and bleeding and worse, and dumped me at the foot of the steps of my father’s London house—Alverleigh House, in the heart of Mayfair. And of course my father, the Earl of Alverleigh, had to be in,” he said bitterly. “My first meeting with my real father and I was half naked and bleeding and unable to stand.”

  “Why did they take you there, if you didn’t know him?”

  He shrugged. “No doubt Lord Quenborough took the view that my father should take responsibility for his bastard.”

  “And did he?”

  “He took one look at me and said to the butler, ‘Glover, there is a mess on the front step. Have it removed.’ I’ll never forget those words.”

  Nell gasped. “So heartless.”

  “And then my brother Marcus came down the steps and stared at me, those pitiless eyes of his taking in every detail. He didn’t say a word to me. Just stared and then followed his father back inside. Like father, like son.”