Only Mine

by Cheryl Holt

  Soloman had always insisted Caleb was alive, that someone had wanted a baby and had taken him, but why kidnap a baby? If there had been a ransom demand later on, Benjamin might have understood the perpetrator’s motive, but no ransom request was ever received.

  So he could never decide what he believed about the debacle, but what if Harry Boswell was...

  Could Harry be...

  No, no, the whole notion was outlandish, and he couldn’t deduce why such an absurd prospect was vexing him.

  Annabel yanked him out of his disquieting reverie.

  “My sister will never forgive you for your remark about Harry.”

  “It was badly done of me. I admit it.”

  “Harry isn’t a Boswell in even the slightest way. He’s brimming with Fenwick traits.”

  “The poor boy.”

  She chuckled and pinched his waist. “The Boswells are stuffy Puritans who’ve always looked askance at Lydia, as if she brought a wolf pup into the family instead of a baby.”

  “When I see her again, I’ll have to apologize.”

  “It won’t do any good. She holds a grudge for an eternity.”

  “Well then, I won’t even try to make amends.”

  She popped up so they were nose to nose, and he stole a quick kiss.

  “I’m happy,” she said. “I’m glad we’re together.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it. I was afraid you might slap my face and order me to leave you alone.”

  “I couldn’t, Captain. I’m growing used to having you around.”

  “Marvelous.”

  “How was London? Were you there to attend a ball or a supper or what?”

  “I spent time at my town house, taking care of business then I attended a very fancy ball.”

  “What did you wear? Were you dressed in your uniform?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you dashing? Did all the women ogle you and whisper suggestive comments?”

  “Yes,” he said again.

  “I just love elegant parties. I wish I’d been there to see it.”

  “Do you live in London?”

  “Usually. Why?”

  “If you’d left Grey Manor while I was away, I’d have had no idea how to contact you. What’s your direction in town?”

  She studied him then scowled. “I’ll have to think about telling you.”

  “Is it a secret?”

  “Not a secret precisely, but once your bachelor party ends and I return to my old life, if you know where my home is located I’ll constantly be watching for you. I’ll stare out the window and pine away, hoping to find you riding down my street.”

  He grinned. “You’d waste away over me?”

  “Yes, and it would drive me mad to carry on like that. After we part, I don’t intend to miss you a single second.”

  As she voiced the remark, she was smiling and he was smiling too, their banter light and jesting, but he was already wondering how he’d ever let her go. During his brief jaunt to London, it had quickly become clear he couldn’t bear to be away from her for a full day.

  It was idiotic to suppose they could continue their relationship after he wed, and he’d always told himself he wasn’t one of those men. He wouldn’t bind himself to a wife then regularly cheat on her. He’d assumed he was more principled than that, but maybe he wasn’t. Since he’d met Annabel, he was beginning to suspect he had as many wicked traits as the very worst libertine.

  “Tell me about your brother,” he said, even though he’d vowed to himself he wouldn’t mention Michael Fenwick to her again. If they wound up with just a week or two remaining in their acquaintance, he wouldn’t squander them with bickering.

  “What about him?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d clarify the details of his scheme with my brother. I promise I won’t be angry.”

  “He doesn’t have a scheme. I swear.”

  “Annabel! He’s using a fake name.”

  “I explained why. He’s protecting me.”

  “I asked Wesley if your brother had tried to borrow money or involve him in a dubious financial plan. Wesley claims he hasn’t.”

  “As far as I’m aware, Michael likes Wesley and feels sorry for him.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Yes, well he is rather a sorry character, isn’t he?”

  “I’ve never thought so. I simply thought he was smaller and younger than me so he’s a little less commanding.”

  “You are so obtuse. Don’t you realize how difficult it would be to have you as an older brother? Have you ever considered that fact?”

  “Often, Annabel.”

  “Must Michael be plotting? Must there be an ulterior motive? Is it so hard to believe he and your brother are just friends?”

  “Yes, it’s very, very hard to believe.”

  “You’re such a pessimist,” she said.

  “I’m not a pessimist. I’m a realist. I’m about to be wealthy and titled which means my brother’s status will rise significantly. I have to be skeptical of mysterious strangers butting in and growing close.”

  “Are you skeptical of me too?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She laughed and laughed. “What is it you presume I’ll do to you, Captain?”

  “I haven’t figured it out yet, but I will.”

  “For your information, I have designs on you, but only on your person. I neither want nor need your fortune so you’re safe with me.”

  But he didn’t feel safe. She left him jumbled and confused, lost and perplexed over how he’d find his way back to being the man he’d been before they’d crossed paths.

  She snuggled down again, her lush breasts pressed to his chest, riveting him in a manner that made it impossible to concentrate.

  “Will you tell me about your family?” he inquired. “I’m so curious about your past.”

  She hesitated then said, “I have no family. There’s just me, Lydia, Michael, and Harry.”

  “Your father is recently deceased.”

  “Yes.”

  “How did he earn his living? Was he a gentleman or a scholar or a merchant or what? You’re so intriguing. He must have been quite high on the social ladder.”

  “I’ll merely confess that he was a gentleman and a very fine fellow to boot.”

  He had no idea what that revealed. “And there are no other kin?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Let’s pretend you do,” she said.

  “You can confide in me, Annabel. Seriously. You hoard every detail like a gold coin. You have so many secrets you could be a spy.”

  “I’d be good at that,” she retorted, and as was typical of her, she changed the subject from her to him. “What about your past?”

  “Why ask me? Everyone in the kingdom knows it.”

  “You were raised to be an earl.”

  “Yes, then my uncle married at the last second and finally had a son.”

  “Caleb Grey—the most famous baby in the land.”

  “He vanished from his cradle, and the rest—as they say—is history.”

  “What are you hoping to discover at Lyndon Hall.”

  “I’m hoping to stumble on my cousin, Soloman.”

  “Is he in England? I always heard that he fled the scandal and never came back.”

  “Yes, but he’s home. I haven’t learned where he’s staying though.”

  She popped up again and grinned. “So I might be introduced to the notorious Soloman Grey?”

  “If he’s there. Otherwise, we’ll simply assess the condition of the place. I’m betting it will be horrid, and I’ll have to initiate plans to improve it so I can open it up again.”

  “If it’s bad, what will you do?”

  “I’ll hire work crews to begin repairs.”

  “Ooh, and a rich man can’t stand to spend his money.”

  “You know me well, Annabel.”

  She sighed with what sounded like irritation. “Yo
u shouldn’t have brought me, Captain. Your fiancée should be here. Not me.”

  “Probably, but I wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun as I’m having now.” He snuggled her down again. “I don’t want to talk about her. Not when you’re sitting on my lap.”

  “I don’t want to talk about her either. If I met her, would I hate her?”

  “Hate is a strong word,” he said.

  “But you don’t think I’d like her.”

  “No, I don’t think you would.”

  “I’m not anything like her, am I?”

  “Not in even the smallest way.”

  “Wonderful.” She beamed with such satisfaction that he laughed and slapped her on the bottom.

  “Don’t be impertinent,” he said.

  “I was born impertinent.”

  “I’m sure you were.” He kissed the top of her head. “Will you ever break down and call me Benjamin?”

  “I’m still considering it. I’m afraid it has to be Captain for the moment.”

  “I suppose it will have to do.”

  He was irked that he couldn’t command her, but then again it was what he relished most about her. She was wild and fierce and free, and he desperately needed what she delivered to his life. Aggravation and all, he couldn’t get enough of her.

  They were quiet after that, and she dozed off. He held her nestled to his chest and watched the passing scenery.

  He couldn’t ever remember when he’d enjoyed an interval more. It made him crave things he’d never had in the past and wouldn’t have in the future. It made him sick with regret that he hadn’t picked a path where his choices really mattered.

  In his own defense though, he hadn’t understood what mattered. Not until he’d met her.

  As the coach eventually slowed, as the driver maneuvered the heavy vehicle through the gates of Lyndon Park, Benjamin should have been aquiver with excitement over the fact that the house was about to come into view.

  But he couldn’t focus on the house or the long lane leading up to it or the untended orchards lining the route. He could only think of her, sleeping so peacefully in his arms, and how much he would hate to wake her and have the interlude end once they arrived.

  “WHAT AM I TO make of this situation, Lydia?”

  “I most humbly apologize, Mr. Boswell.”

  Lydia groveled to her father-in-law, hoping she appeared sufficiently contrite so he wouldn’t be angry, so he wouldn’t blame her for Harry’s willful defiance.

  “Your sister and brother are not to have any contact with Harry.”

  “I’m aware of your opinion, sir, and I had no idea what they intended. They simply went to the school and left with him, claiming to the headmaster that it was per my instructions. It’s why I wrote you the minute he arrived—so you’d know he was here and that they were responsible for bringing him.”

  “I appreciate it, Lydia, but he’s not to stay with you. You can’t control him.”

  “I absolutely agree, Mr. Boswell, and I’m certain—as he reaches adolescence—he will become even more incorrigible. I’m happy to submit to your decisions regarding his care. It’s what Milton would have expected.”

  “I will confer with the headmaster so he realizes—no matter what deceit your siblings might utilize in the future—he is never to permit them to speak to Harry again, let alone leave with him. I recognize Annabel is very brazen, but it never occurred to me that she would interfere this way.”

  “She’s a horrid influence, sir, and there should be no relationship between them.”

  They were in Lydia’s parlor, with Mr. Boswell eager to depart. Peggy was hovering in the corner, and she piped up with, “May I comment, Mr. Boswell?”

  “No, you may not, Miss Jones.”

  “But I would like to—”

  “Miss Jones! Be silent!”

  Lydia shot her a scathing look, and she returned it in spades. Then she whipped away and walked to the window to peer outside, showing them her back, but it was no insult to Mr. Boswell. He never noticed Peggy and viewed her as being so far beneath him that she was invisible.

  “Fetch him down, Lydia,” Mr. Boswell said. “I’ll convey him to the campus at once. And don’t forget: He is not to come back here.”

  “I understand. Peggy, will you get him for us? Tell him his grandfather is waiting and he’s not to dawdle.”

  Peggy nodded, but didn’t glance over at Lydia. She slithered out, and Lydia tarried with Mr. Boswell, listening as Peggy climbed the stairs.

  It was a small house, and Peggy’s voice drifted down as she explained to Harry what was transpiring, but they couldn’t discern her actual words which was a relief. Peggy loathed Mr. Boswell and might have posited an offensive remark then Harry might have concurred, and foul statements wouldn’t benefit anybody, especially Lydia.

  She assessed Mr. Boswell. He was fat, bald, pompous, and incredibly rude, but he could afford to be. He was a prosperous merchant and patriarch of a large and sprawling family. His wishes were paramount, his edicts followed to the letter, and no one ever disobeyed him.

  He controlled all the purse strings, doling out his money in little bits so every son and daughter was completely beholden, but Lydia didn’t mind his staunch habits. There were no surprises with him, no catastrophes or emergencies. She never had to worry about what he might say or do. His opinions and attitudes were practically written in stone.

  Yet she couldn’t help but compare him with her own father. Cecil had been dashingly handsome, charming, funny, suave, and even-tempered. Though his personal affairs had been a mess, though he’d had creditors hounding him and scorned lovers around every bend, he’d always been exuberantly merry.

  She occasionally pondered which man was more satisfied with his life, Edward Boswell or Cecil Fenwick, and she thought Cecil had probably been the happiest by far. But happiness wasn’t an emotion that resonated with the Boswells. They were more concerned with moral reputation, respectability, and religious piety.

  Lydia had been so desperate to be accepted by them, but with Cecil’s blood flowing through her veins, it had never been possible.

  Footsteps sounded as Harry and Peggy came down. He’d only brought the one satchel so it had been easy for Peggy to swiftly gather his things.

  “Hello, Grandfather.” He didn’t look cowed or sorry.

  “We are in your mother’s home, Harry,” Mr. Boswell said. “I could have sworn I forbade you to visit her again.”

  “It just...happened, sir.”

  “Your arrival here was an accident?”

  “Sort of.”

  “You’re not culpable in the slightest?” Mr. Boswell scoffed with disgust. “What am I to do with you, Harry? What would you suggest?”

  “I’ve never been adept at picking my punishment, sir, but I’m sure you’ll devise a devilishly suitable penalty.”

  “If I ever hear that you’ve spent time with Annabel or Michael, I’ll have you whipped.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Harry stared down his grandfather. He wasn’t afraid, wasn’t remorseful. His demeanor was arrogant and haughty—almost aristocratic—and it incensed his grandfather beyond measure. Harry had no ability to be meek or humble.

  “You are never to leave school without my permission,” Mr. Boswell commanded. “You are never to stay with your mother. Am I clear?”

  “Very clear, sir.”

  He was being so insolent that, for a moment Mr. Boswell seemed taken aback. How could such a small boy evince such bold tendencies? Why couldn’t he grasp his place with regard to his grandfather? Why couldn’t he ever behave as was appropriate?

  Lydia truly despaired for him and wondered if Mr. Boswell might slap away his smug expression, but he didn’t. He angrily gestured to the door.

  “Get to the carriage.”

  “Yes, sir,” Harry said again.

  “You’ll ride up top with the driver,” Mr. Boswell said. “I won’t sit in the coach with you where I’d have to listen
to your excuses.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of offering any.”

  Lydia didn’t suppose it was much of a chore for Harry to sit up with the driver. No doubt he’d much rather watch the passing scenery than be stuck inside with his grouchy grandfather.

  Harry strutted out, and there was almost a swagger in his stride. At the last second, he glanced back at Peggy. “Will you please tell my Aunt Annabel why I left and where I’ve gone?”

  “No, she won’t, Harry,” Lydia quickly interrupted before Peggy could reply.

  “I didn’t think you’d allow it,” he snottily retorted.

  “Impertinent child,” her father-in-law muttered. “Get in the coach!”

  “Goodbye, Miss Peggy,” Harry called as he marched off.

  But he had no parting remark for Lydia.

  HAT IS YOUR OPINION?”

  “It’s a ghost castle.”

  Annabel stared over at Benjamin. She was starting to think of him by his Christian name which was dangerous. It made her feel as if they were very close when they shouldn’t be close at all. Though she hadn’t expected it, her heart was becoming engaged so she was definitely headed down the road to disaster.

  She knew she should pull away and impose some distance, but she couldn’t conceive of a single reason why she would.

  They were at Lyndon Hall in a cozy parlor off the main hall. The entire building was dank and cold, and they’d lit a fire in a fireplace in a smaller room. Day had ended and dusk had arrived.

  She didn’t suppose they’d travel to Grey Manor in the dark so what was his intent? Apparently, he planned to spend the night at Lyndon Hall, and she couldn’t decide how she viewed the idea.

  She relished the prospect of being alone with him and away from the servants and prying eyes at Grey Manor. But it was wrong, wrong, wrong for them to remain where they were.

  “It’s as if a terrible plague killed everyone,” he said.

  “Yes, that’s it exactly.”

  “Or perhaps a magic spell was cast and the inhabitants vanished into thin air.”

  “Yes.”

  They’d been snooping through the ostentatious mansion when they’d stumbled on an elderly gardener who had a cottage behind the barn. After Soloman Grey had shuttered the residence, the gardener and his wife had stayed on as caretakers, but they rarely went inside. Mostly, they scythed the grass and worried over the deteriorating condition.