by Anne Ireland
“Damn that for a tale,” Paul growled, offending his man who had never known his master so out of sorts before. “Fetch him up here, Hernshaw, and be quick about it—unless you want me to come down?”
“That would be folly, sir,” Hernshaw said with dignity. “I shall ask the earl if he will come up immediately. He is waiting for you answer downstairs.”
“Right, good man,” Paul said realising that some sort of apology would be necessary. “I’m out of sorts at the moment. I thought you might have sent him away without asking.”
“I believe I know my duty better than that, sir.”
Hernshaw went away, very much on his dignity, leaving Paul to smile ruefully. He must mind his tongue, for he had never treated his servants with anything other than the same respect they gave him, and it would not do to alienate them.
He frowned over his wine as he sipped it. Not quite what his physician had ordered, but better than the pap they had been feeding him these past days. Why had Mortimer come—and what was he to do if his message was what Paul feared?
He frowned as he heard the footsteps outside his door, quick, impatient, firm, and then a knock and the door was opened by his valet to allow the visitor to enter.
“Forgive me if I don’t get up,” Paul said and indicated a spare chair. “Please, sit down, sir. May I offer you a glass of wine?”
“Thank you, no,” Richard replied. “I am on my way to London but came first to you to deliver this.” He handed Paul the sealed note from Hester. “I promised that I would put this into your own hands, and having done so, I shall not presume on your hospitality.”
“Damn it, Mortimer! You are welcome here. I believe I owe my life to you?”
“Possibly,” Richard replied with a slight smile. He hesitated and then sat in the elbow chair Paul had indicated. “You will be a damned fool if you lose her over this business, Crawford. She is worth fighting for—and she loves you.”
“I am aware on both counts,” Paul replied. “Weak as I am, I should have been on my way to her before now if I had known where she had gone.”
“Ah, I wondered,” Richard said and laughed. “I must tell you that I begged her to come away with me. Had I known where you had taken the girl, I might have held the trump card, for I believe her letter is to beg you to help her see her daughter. She does not expect you to take her back as your wife.”
“Hester knows that I love her. I know why she went and why she stayed away,” Paul said and frowned. “She has been hurt too many times—and she has been made to feel that she is unworthy. I intend to find her and convince her differently, as soon as I am able. I shall travel tomorrow, though this thing has laid me low.”
“If you will take my advice, you will not go until you are recovered. She has no intention of going anywhere.”
“That is neither here nor there,” Paul replied. “I love her, and I cannot bear to think of her alone and unhappy.”
“Then I shall say no more. I am on my way to complete a business transaction my lawyer has drawn up. After that I intend to travel.” Richard stood up and came over to shake Paul’s hand. “I wish you a speedy recovery, Crawford—and much happiness in the future. I shall leave you now, for I am sure that you have much on your mind.”
“I hope that you will find the life you want on your travels,” Paul said. “Thank you for bringing me Hester’s letter.”
“It was the least I could do. We both love her, Crawford—but she has chosen the better man.” Richard smiled oddly, giving him a military salute before walking away.
Once his visitor had gone, Paul opened Hester’s brief note. It begged his pardon for bringing scandal and pain to him, said that she prayed for his recovery and hoped he would help her to find her daughter when he was well again.
Paul frowned over the note for it was written in such a way that it gave no hint of her feelings. He could imagine that she was suffering, but she had held back all emotion. Crushing the paper into a ball, he cursed. Damn Henry Blackwater for what he had done—and damn his mother for being so unkind to his wife!
* * * *
“Oh, Charlotte,” Hester cried as her cousin entered the room where she was sitting working at a piece of embroidery. “I am so glad to see you!”
“My dearest Hester,” Charlotte said and embraced her warmly. “I was not sure whether you would want to see me yet, but Araminta was anxious about you. She did not feel up to making the journey herself, but begged me to make sure that you were not desperate. She had a notion that you might try to kill yourself.”
“No, I shall not do that,” Hester said, smiling sadly at her cousin. “I have never been quite so unhappy, Charlotte, for to have found such happiness only to lose it.” She sighed deeply. “I should have known better than to expect anything. My father warned me.”
“Your father was a bully and a fool,” Charlotte said crossly. “He ruined Araminta’s life and tried to squash you. It was only your strength of character that saved you, my dearest.”
“I think his unkindness taught me to be strong,” Hester said, her throat tight with emotion. “I shall need to be strong now for I must face a lifetime of being alone—though I hope to have my child with me eventually.”
“Do you think that is wise?”
“I do not care whether it is wise or foolish,” Hester said. “My daughter has suffered neglect and unkindness through no fault of her own, and I intend to make it up to her. Richard Mortimer thinks that Paul may know where she is, and I have written to him. I hope that he will reply and tell me where I may find her.”
“You are a brave woman,” Charlotte said. “I admire you even though the path you have chosen would not be mine. However, I do not think you will be entirely alone, for I shall visit and I have already been asked where you may be found by some of your friends. I imagine they might write or perhaps visit when it is convenient.”
Hester nodded though she thought it unlikely she would receive many visits. Perhaps a letter or two, but people soon forgot and she would not be going into society—unless she found some friends in the district. As yet she had hardly left the house. She and Anna had been busy sorting out the wedding gifts that must be returned, though none had been sent for she did not know where to send them. It might perhaps be best to send them care of Lady Longstanton.
“Well, if I have you as my friend, I shall not need many others,” Hester said with a smile. “And if my mother has forgiven me, I am satisfied.”
“Well, I shall stay with you a few days,” Charlotte said. “I noticed that you still have Lady Longstanton’s carriage here—do you intend to keep it?”
“Only as long as I need it,” Hester said. “Once I have my daughter’s direction, I shall go to fetch her, but after that . . .” She broke off as she caught sight of a carriage pulling up in the courtyard outside her small front parlor. “It seems we have a visitor . . .” Her breath caught as she realized who it was. “Paul . . . oh, he should not have come . . .” But her heart was leaping at the sight of him, and insensibly she began to hope.
She went out into the hall feeling flustered as her maid answered the door to him. She had only a few servants at the house, her cook and the housekeeper, who had both worked for Charlotte, and her own maid, though there was a girl who came in early to clean the house—and of course an outside man to take care of the garden. Lady Longstanton’s coachman had walked the horses to the inn for there was no stable here.
“Paul . . . what are you doing here?” she asked as Anna took his cloak, hat, and gloves. “I am sure you should not . . .” She stopped as she saw the ravages of pain and grief in his eyes. “Oh, my dearest, you should not have come yourself. You are not well. A letter from your messenger would have sufficed.”
“I could not bear to think of you alone here,” he said and then saw that Charlotte had come out into the hall. “I did not know you were here, ma’am. I wrote to you care of Mrs. Weston.”
“Your letter must just have missed me,”
Charlotte replied and nodded her approval. “I have but just arrived myself. I trust I see you on the mend, sir?”
“I believe I shall be well enough given a few days of rest,” he replied. “Forgive me, Hester, but I think I must ask to sit down in your parlor—and a glass of brandy if you have it would be of help.”
“Yes, of course there is brandy,” Charlotte said. “I shall see to it myself—take Paul and make him comfortable, Hester. You must have a few moments alone while I arrange the dinner for this evening with Cook. It will be pleasant to talk to her again.”
Paul followed Hester into the parlor and sank into a comfortable leather wing chair by the fireplace. The room had been much used in the past and had an air of peaceful serenity. He leaned his head back, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him. The journey had seemed interminable and he was not truly well enough to be travelling.
“You are ill,” Hester said, kneeling by his side. She took his hand, pressing it to her cheek and then kissing it. “Forgive me for leaving you, Paul. I have prayed for your recovery—but you know why I left?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Yes, I know, and I am sorry you were treated so abominably in my parents’ house, Hester. My mother has realized that she was wrong, and she sends her apologies.”
“But she was not wrong,” Hester said. “It is true that she was unkind and I was hurt for I had thought she liked me . . .” She caught back a sob as his hand gripped hers tightly. “But that does not make her wrong, Paul. I was wrong to marry you. I knew that if my secret came out it might bring shame to your family, but I never expected . . .”
“He is dead,” Paul growled. “I merely winged him, for I would have had him brought to justice, but he tried to shoot me when I was already wounded and on my knees. Mortimer killed him—did he tell you that?”
“Not exactly,” Hester said, her eyes widening with shock. “He said that Henry Blackwater had been brought to justice and would not trouble me again—and he said that you had been wounded, but that it was not fatal and you would recover.”
“He behaved like a man of honor,” Paul said, an odd look in his eyes. “I know that he tried to persuade you to go with him, but I excuse him that, for he could not know that I would come after you.”
“You should not have done, my dearest,” Hester said. “You simply make it harder for us both. I am glad to see you, but it will be even harder to part when you go . . .”
“I am not leaving here alone,” Paul said, his eyes glittering with sudden determination. “You are my wife, Hester. You belong with me, and I with you. I love you and without you my life means nothing.”
“But . . .”
He reached out to place a finger against her lips. “No, do not say it, Hester. I know what you will say but I do not care. I lied to try and save you from the cruel tongues of those who will try to destroy you—but I have since realized that I was wrong. We shall not try to hide the fact that you have a daughter. I have already taken steps to adopt her, and she will live with us at my estate in Devon. Indeed, she is already there, for I took her down myself before I joined you in London. The air is very good there, and she will be well fed and cared for even when we are not there. I have employed a governess to teach her the things she needs to know, and as soon as I am well enough to travel that far, we shall go to join them.”
“You did so much for me—and yet you did not tell me?”
“I intended to once we were married,” Paul said and smiled at her. “It was to have been the most important of my wedding gifts to you—though it was my intention to let people think she was my daughter not yours.” His fingers trailed her cheek and her throat, touching the pulse spot in the little hollow at the base. “It was for your sake, but I was wrong. I should have spoken out, told my parents—and the world. It was stupid of me to lie.”
“No one believed you,” she said. “I know that it means some people will not accept me into their homes. I am prepared to accept that for myself, but you . . .”
He leaned forward to kiss her on the lips. “If they will not accept you, then I do not care for them,” he told her softly. “You are my love and my life, Hester. Please believe that I shall never give you up.” He saw a tear slip from the corner of her eye, and wiped it away with his thumb. “No, do not cry, my love. I want only to make you happy.”
“But you have,” she said and caught back the sob that rose to her lips. “I did not think that such happiness could ever be mine.”
“You should always have been happy,” he said. “But what you do not understand is how much you have given me. Until I knew you, I knew nothing, my darling. I fought for my country, and I performed my duty to my family and friends. I took mistresses, and I gambled, fenced, and raced my horses, behaved, as a gentleman ought—but I did not know what true happiness was. You have made a better man of me. My happiness lies in you and the children we shall have, including the daughter we already have.”
“Oh, Paul,” she whispered. “You said that Richard had behaved as a man of honor, but I think you are the most honorable man I know.”
“If a man hath not honor he hath nothing,” Paul smiled. “That is our family motto—did you know that?” She shook her head and he leaned back in his chair once more, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “My mother reminded me of it when she apologized for being unkind to you. She has always guarded our family honor in her way, but I think I made her understand that there is a greater kind of honor.”
Hester shook her head, the tears trickling down her cheeks. She knew that she could not argue against him now. Paul had decided that he would love and honor her, and if he was brave enough to accept that it might mean them being shunned by society, then so was she.
She stood up as Charlotte reappeared carrying a tray with the brandy decanter. Anna followed her into the room with another tray that held glasses, sweet biscuits and a jug of sweet wine. She set it down, bobbed a curtsey, and sent a look of approval her master’s way, then went out.
“I trust you have it all settled between you,” Charlotte said and busied herself pouring brandy for Paul and wine for Hester and herself. “I thought we might drink a toast to your happiness, my dears—since we were so rudely interrupted the last time.”
Paul took the glass and lifted it in salute, a smile of satisfaction, and perhaps the merest hint of triumph on his lips. “Thank you, Charlotte. Indeed, I have much to thank you for. Had you not taken Hester to Bath we might never have met again.”
“Again?”
“We met briefly when I lost my way,” Paul explained. “I think I fell in love with her then, though she looked like a startled fawn and I thought she might run away.”
“I had been warned not to speak to strangers,” Hester said. “I hardly saw anyone but my family and a few of my mother’s friends.”
“Well, I am glad that I was able to bring you together,” Charlotte said and sipped her wine. “May I know what your immediate plans are?”
“We shall stay here for a few days,” Paul said. “I was warned the journey would knock me back, but I did not expect to feel quite this weak. So we shall wait a few days and then travel to my own estate. Sylvia is waiting for us there and we shall spend some time with her. It was my intention to travel on to Italy—but I have changed my mind. I think we shall go up to London for a few weeks first . . .”
“But, Paul,” Hester said, looking at him in apprehension, “do you think we should?”
“I have no intention of hiding my head in shame and nor need you, Hester. We shall be bold and then we shall see who our friends are—and our enemies.”
“Bravo!” Charlotte said. “I think that is an excellent idea. I shall give a large party and invite all my friends—and you shall be the guests of honor.”
“Perhaps no one will accept,” Hester said doubtfully.
“Then I shall save a great deal of money in the future,” Charlotte replied and laughed. “We shall see, my dears.”
&nbs
p; “I thank you, dear Charlotte,” Paul said. “I believe you have hit upon the very idea.” He drained his glass and set it down. “And now I think I should like to lie down for a while—if I may, Hester?”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I shall take you to my room. It will do you good to rest for a while.”
* * * *
Paul was resting when Hester looked at him later that afternoon. He was lying with his eyes closed, but he opened them at once, holding his hand out to her.
“Please, come and sit with me for a moment, my love.”
“Did I wake you? I wondered if you would like to have your supper brought up here, or if you would prefer to dine downstairs?”
“I was not asleep, but I believe I may have slept for a while,” he said and smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”
“I think you may have done,” she said her eyes bright with an echoing laughter. “Charlotte is very pleased with you, Paul. She was afraid that you would not come, and I think she meant to try and persuade me to live with her. She has been very good to me.”
“And earns my gratitude for it,” Paul said. “Where would you have gone had she not given you this house?”
“I do not know,” Hester said, taking the hand he offered. “I suppose I must have tried to find lodgings somewhere.”
“And I might have had a devil of a job to find you,” he said, his fingers curling tightly about hers. “Promise me you will never run off like that again—no matter what anyone says to you?”
“I promise,” she said. “I went for your sake, but I see that I was wrong.” He sat forward to kiss her, but a little moan of pain broke from his lips. “Do not, my love. I think you must have your supper in bed, for you are in too much pain.”
“My valet will give me something to help,” Paul said. “He insisted on accompanying me, and I was forced to let him because I had been a little rude to him recently. I hope he will not put your household out too much.”
