by Darcy Burke
It was a woman, prone and bloody, and while her features were indistinguishable, she was clearly Fanny. Because of the hair.
Walter had been an avid painter, using the lodge as a studio as well as having one at the dower house. Ice pricked along David’s spine as he turned to his mother. “What did he do?” His tone was low and lethal.
She looked up at him and wiped the back of her hand across her wet cheek. “What do you mean? He’s the one who’s dead.”
“And why do you care so much?” David suddenly saw something very clearly. She often came here with Walter when he painted. “How long have you and Walter been carrying on? Was it before Father died?”
Her face lost all color, and David already had his answer. “I loved your father,” she whispered.
David wasn’t sure he believed her, but now he saw guilt in so many things she did and said, namely her insistence that he keep his promise to her father. How easy for her when she’d broken her promise to be faithful to him. “Did you love Walter too?”
She turned her head away from David, and he saw her shoulders shake.
“St. Ives? Fanny?” The sound of Snowden’s voice carried from the front of the house.
West turned and left the kitchen.
Fanny.
David had to find her. Where could she be? He pivoted and took in the painting scene. There was a stool near the window, where a model might sit. But the painting was not of a woman sitting. It didn’t make any sort of sense. And yet he knew Fanny had been summoned here, and it was her image on that canvas. Unfortunately, he couldn’t interrogate the one person who might know where she was.
Despair curled through him. He unlatched the back door and strode outside. A cloud had moved over the sun, plunging the day into shadow, as if the heavens would share in his anguish.
“She’s here!”
David heard the call and ran to the sound. He raced around the house toward the copse of trees on the west side.
Jacob came from the trees, his arms carrying a figure in a dark blue riding habit.
Fanny.
Racing to the man’s side, he took her from him without asking. Her eyes were closed, and blood stained her front, completely discoloring the white blouse beneath the jacket.
David carried her inside to the settee near the fireplace.
West joined him. “Where did you find her?”
“In the trees,” Jacob answered from somewhere to David’s right.
Snowden came around the backside of the settee. “What’s happened to her?” He sounded stricken, and David wanted to scream at him. He didn’t deserve to feel as upset as David did. But then David doubted he ever really could.
David dropped to his knees and smoothed Fanny’s hair back from her scratched and dirty face. “Fanny, wake up, please, my love.” He ran his hand down her cheek and felt the pulse in her neck then opened the buttons of her jacket to investigate the source of the blood.
Her chest rose and fell with her breaths, but he was still more scared than he’d ever been in his life. Watching his father grow sicker and die and been awful, but this pain was beyond anything he could imagine.
As he eased her jacket aside, her eyelids fluttered and opened. Her eyes were unfocused as she looked past him. She blinked again and again before seeing him. “David?”
“I’m here, love.” Relief—however temporary it might be—poured through him.
“Where are we?” She looked around, and then fear took over her expression. “Are we back in the lodge?” She tried to sit up, her eyes wild.
“She’s a murderer!” David’s mother cried as she came toward the settee.
Snowden grabbed her and pushed her into the wall. “Don’t you dare touch my daughter.”
West moved between them, putting his back to the countess, and shoved at Snowden. “Back off!”
Fanny flinched and brought her hand to her shoulder. She quickly jerked her hand back. “What’s wrong with me?” She looked at the blood staining her palm and then lifted her frightened gaze to David’s.
“We’ll fix it, love,” he promised, tearing his cravat from his neck and wadding the linen in his palm to press it gently against the wound.
“He stabbed me.” She stared up at him, dazed. “Your uncle. He wanted to kill me, just like he said he killed my Great-uncle George.” She began to sob. David cradled his free arm around her.
“I knew it!” Snowden crowed. “I knew you bloody well killed him.”
David’s mother shook her head frantically. “No. Walter took him to the coast and put him on a ship to America.”
“You believed that?” Snowden sneered.
The countess opened her mouth but said nothing. She turned her head, presenting a stoic profile as she clenched her jaw.
Fanny’s sobs subsided, and David pressed a kiss to her forehead. He looked toward West. “She needs a doctor.”
“I can ride to get one, but do you want me to leave?”
“I’ll do whatever he needs,” Jacob said. His gaze was fixed intently on his sister, and worry was etched into every line of his face.
David’s mother stepped toward West, her features harsh. “When you go to town, fetch the magistrate too. So he can arrest her for murder.”
She pointed at Fanny, and that was when David completely lost control.
Chapter 17
Fanny slumped as David raced around the settee. She turned, her shoulder aching horribly, and watched as he grabbed his mother by the upper arms.
“Stop it!” he shouted in her face. “This ends now! Walter was going to kill her, and he already admitted killing George Snowden. I spoke with Scully in the stables and Mrs. Johnson in the kitchen. Aunt Catherine was in love with him. Furthermore, Fanny’s father brought a letter from George Snowden detailing his elopement with Catherine. He didn’t kidnap her.”
Fanny knew she’d been right. Later, she’d be happy about it. Now she was too overwhelmed with a dozen other, darker emotions.
“That’s a lie. Your father would be horrified by your allegiance to them.” Her eyes turned pleading. “David, I’m your family, not her. She’s no one from nothing.”
David pulled his hands away with such force that the countess stumbled backward.
“She’s everything,” Snowden said with quiet steel. “My daughter will make a fine countess to your son.”
Fanny stared at him, wondering if she’d heard him correctly.
The countess brought her hands to her face and started to cry. “I don’t want to believe it.”
Fanny saw the woman’s pain, heard it in the anguished tone of her voice. With great effort, she stood and went to David’s side. His arm came quickly around her.
“I’m sorry for your pain,” Fanny said quietly. “But you can see the painting he made. I believe he was designing how it might look.” Her stomach turned again, and she swallowed, trying not to heave as she had earlier. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I was only trying to survive.”
David’s arm squeezed her, and he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Look at her, Mother,” he said darkly. “She’s been stabbed. By Walter. You can’t dismiss that.”
The countess lowered her hands and wiped her face. She focused on Fanny, her lip trembling. “I can’t believe he could be capable of such a thing. Did he really say he’d killed Snowden?”
“Yes, and that he planned to…kill me the same way.” Her body shuddered, and she leaned into David. “I think I need to sit again.”
“I want to get you back to Stour’s Edge. Can you manage riding with me?” he asked tenderly, his face and voice so altered from the man who’d railed so violently at his mother a few moments ago.
“I think so.” She really had no idea, but she was desperate to leave this place.
“It’s time to let the past go,” Jacob said. His calm declaration surprised Fanny, and seemingly everyone else as they all swung their heads to look at him. He looked toward his father and then toward the countes
s. “Let it all go. There’s a chance to find some goodness with Fanny marrying her earl. Their marriage can’t erase the past, but it’s a hope for a better future.”
A heavy silence descended for a moment before Snowden cleared his throat. He glanced toward Jacob. “I didn’t know you had such a way with words.”
Jacob delivered him a pointed stare. “Father, it’s time to let it all go. And that includes Ivy.”
Snowden nodded just once, his features a mix of sadness and determination.
West started toward the door. “I’m going to fetch the doctor. David, I’ll see you back at Stour’s Edge. One of you needs to get back soon before my wife tries to ride here, which would be terrible in her condition.” West strode from the house.
“We’ll go now,” Fanny said. “I can’t wait to leave.”
“What about Walter?” the countess croaked. “We can’t just leave him here.”
“We can, and we will,” David said. Fanny could feel his heart thundering in his chest. “I’ll send a cart to fetch him.”
David turned to Jacob. “Will you help me get your sister on my horse and lead hers back to Stour’s Edge?”
Jacob nodded.
“I’m picking you up now, my love.” David swept Fanny into his arms. She winced as pain shot through her anew. He carried her from the house and walked to his horse. “Ready?”
Jacob held out his arms, and David transferred her to her brother. Fanny looked up at him and smiled. “What happened to make you so nice?”
His gaze was so serious, so concerned, that she almost didn’t recognize him. “We’re family. I never liked the way that Mary—Ivy—left. I didn’t like how you left either.” He shot a disgruntled glower toward their father, who’d come outside after them.
“Hand her up,” David called from atop his horse.
Jacob lifted Fanny and helped David settle her in front of him. His arms came around her to pick up the reins. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but at least she was in the embrace of the man she loved.
“Thank you, Jacob.”
“You have a place at Huntwell, if you want it,” David said. Fanny’s heart swelled with love.
His cheeks flushed a light pink. “I’d like that, my lord.”
“I’m going to be your brother-in-law. Call me David.” He turned the horse and led them away from the lodge.
“I’m afraid I don’t ever want to come back here,” Fanny said, closing her eyes as she leaned against him.
“Good, because I’m going to burn it down.”
“I’m so sorry about your uncle.” She felt ill again, but tamped the sick feeling down. Maybe someday she’d be able to think of him without wanting to vomit. Today was not that day. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“I know, love. Please don’t think about it. Or him. I’m so sorry this happened. I never imagined he could do something so horrific.”
They were quiet a moment before she found a bit of happiness. “I’m so happy to hear that your aunt and my great-uncle loved each other. How did you find out?”
“Your father brought a letter written by your great-uncle. In it, he explained how he and my aunt fell in love and eloped to Scotland. He worked at a coaching inn, and it truly sounded as if they would have led a happy life together if she hadn’t died birthing their babe.”
Fanny heard the sorrow in his voice and felt it in her own heart. “Is that why my father and brother are here?”
“Yes. Your father found the letter and wanted to show me the proof of what had happened. But I had already interviewed a few retainers who were at Huntwell thirty years ago. The head groom knew your great-uncle well. He was quite a popular fellow on the estate—especially with the ladies.”
This made her smile. “Was he?”
“Until he fell in love, according to Scully— my head groom. And since he saw Snowden and my aunt kissing in the stable, I think it’s safe to conclude she was the recipient of his affection.” He kissed Fanny’s head, which was nestled beneath his chin. “Just as you are mine.”
“Only our ending will be much happier than theirs.” She felt sad for them but also hopeful for the future stretching before her and David.
By God, he hoped so. He kissed her again. “Yes, it will.”
Weary in body and soul, David eyed the bed in his room at Stour’s Edge. After yesterday’s events at the lodge, West had invited him to stay for as long as he liked. It had been late afternoon before they’d returned to Stour’s Edge and well into evening before the physician had tended Fanny. She’d required a row of neat stitches to seal her wound, and was so far recovering well. They were to watch for fever, and David prayed she wouldn’t develop an infection as his father had done. He didn’t think he could survive it.
He didn’t think he’d want to.
The sheer terror he’d experienced when he’d seen her bleeding had been the single worst thing he’d ever known. How had he ever thought he could marry someone else?
It didn’t bear consideration.
David opened his door and peered into the sitting room to which his and Fanny’s room adjoined. As expected, it was empty. Still, he’d had to look.
He made his way to Fanny’s room and slowly opened the door. Scanning the interior, he saw Barker sitting beside her bed. It was late, and the maid was reading by the light of a single candle.
She looked up as he walked inside. Stifling a yawn, she rose. “Are you here to take a watch?” she asked.
No one cared if he and Fanny were alone together. For one, she wasn’t in any state to partake in impropriety. For another thing, they were as good as wed.
“Yes, I’ll stay all night. Get some rest.”
She nodded. “Thank you, my lord.” She left, closing the door with a soft snick.
David stared at Fanny for a few moments before removing his dressing gown and sliding into the bed next to her. He turned to his side and put his arm around her waist.
She snuggled into him and sighed. “I’m glad you’re back. I missed you today.”
“Were you pretending to sleep?” he asked.
“No, I was sleeping. But you woke me.”
“Damn, I didn’t mean to.”
She smiled against him. “It’s all right.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was swept away by the brilliance of her blue-green eyes. “How was Huntwell? Did you get Jacob settled over there?”
He was to be the new apprentice to the steward. “Not yet. He decided he wanted to stay here for a few days. He’s worried about you.”
“The change in him will take a bit of getting used to.”
“I can imagine. He’s certainly acquitted himself quite well with all that’s happened.” David moved his hand up and stroked her braid. “He wants to take a turn watching over you tomorrow.”
She laughed softly. “Everyone wants a turn. I look forward to when I can be alone again. Except for you. I want you here all the time.”
He winced. “I’m sorry I had to leave today.”
“Do not apologize. You had to go to Huntwell. What’s to be done with your uncle?” She tensed, and he stroked her arm, careful to avoid her shoulder.
“He’ll be buried at the church in town. I refused to allow him to be buried next to my father. My mother admitted she and Walter had been having an affair the past several years. Apparently, Walter had been in love with her since before she wed my father. That’s why he never married.”
“How sad.”
“I have no pity for him.” Bitterness burned his mouth.
“He deserves it most of all,” she said. “Who knows what drives someone to the madness that fueled his mind. Perhaps it was feeling lonely for so many years.”
“None of it excuses his actions.”
“No, it doesn’t. I was merely trying to understand.”
“Sometimes there is no understanding,” he said flatly.
She nuzzled his chest. “What of your mother?”
“She’s al
ready moved to the dower house, but then I plan to set her up in a house in London where she can stay forever.” He twined his fingers with hers, mindful not to move her arm at all. “She did say she regretted threatening you and hopes you can find it in your heart to forgive her someday. I told her she was not invited to our wedding.”
Her eyes widened. “The wedding! You haven’t had a chance to purchase the license, have you?”
“No, I’ve been too concerned about you. I’ll go day after tomorrow, though there is no rush since the doctor said you must rest for a week.”
She pouted. “That’s far too long.”
“Actually, it gives us time to invite our friends from London. I was hoping we could get married in a fortnight.”
After exhaling, she pressed her lips together. “That makes far too much sense. But I shan’t like it.”
“Neither will I, my love.” He leaned down and kissed her gently, a brief brush of lips.
She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Her left hand moved beneath the covers, finding his cock. She opened her eyes, and they held an accusatory glint. “You’re wearing smallclothes.”
“I thought it wise. I can’t very well visit my betrothed in her sickbed without any clothes on.”
“Well, that’s very boring.”
He laughed again. “Somehow, I don’t think life with you will ever be boring.”
Her eyes twinkled as she looked up at him. “Not if I can help it, although after the last few days, I would prefer a lot of nothing.” Her hand stroked him through his underclothes, and he let out a soft groan. “Perhaps not nothing.”
“You’re a temptress,” he breathed. Then he took her hand and moved it away from him. “And you’re going to keep your hands to yourself for six more days.”
“And you’re cruel. But I suppose I can wait if I must.” Her tone was rife with exaggerated resignation. “It’s better than waiting a fortnight until we are married.”
“We probably should wait for that.”
She gave him a seductive smile and moved her hand right back over to the bulge in his smallclothes. “But we won’t.”
