by Cheryl Holt
“I’m delighted to hear it. I was afraid you might tell us to jump in the lake.”
“There was never a chance of that.”
Jo sat on a sofa, and Amelia joined her.
“I’d ask you if you’re happy,” Amelia said, “but it’s obvious that you are.”
“Marriage and motherhood definitely agree with me.”
“While Evan and Peyton are resolving their differences, you and I should resolve some too. I wasn’t upset over Peyton marrying you. I’m glad the two of you are together.”
“You’re being very sweet about everything.”
“I also wanted you to know that I wasn’t angry with you for how you treated Evan. When you declined to wed him, and you wed Peyton instead, it was the best ending for both of you. I simply hated to have Evan tossed over. He’s such a proud man, and it was hard for him.”
“Let’s sweep all of our past troubles under the rug. Especially with Evan marrying Mrs. Bennett.”
“Would you and Peyton come to the wedding?”
“Of course.” Jo patted Amelia’s hand. “I like Mrs. Bennett very much, by the way. I think she’s the perfect bride for Evan, particularly with the difficulties he’ll face from his maiming. She’ll be a much better wife for him than I could ever have been. She’ll fall in love and stay in love forever.”
Amelia smiled. “Here’s hoping.”
A companionable silence descended where they tried to listen in on Peyton and Evan’s conversation, but with the windows closed, it was impossible to eavesdrop.
Finally, Amelia mustered her courage. “I have to tell you something. I’d like you to hear it from me so you’re not wondering about gossip that might filter to Benton.”
Jo frowned. “My goodness. This sounds serious.”
“It is, and it isn’t. It’s more shocking and embarrassing than anything. I’m betting you’ll be stunned. I’d like you to tell Peyton for me too. I couldn’t bear to.”
“I will tell him. What is it?”
Amelia held her breath, then slowly exhaled, praying she wasn’t about to wreck their mended relationship just as it was being repaired.
“I’m having a baby.”
Jo blanched. “When?”
“In the spring.”
“I take it there’s no husband in the picture.”
Amelia’s cheeks blushed bright red. “No.”
“But…where…ah…is he?” Jo delicately inquired. “Can you say? Or is the topic too painful to discuss?”
“He’s a soldier I met when I was in Gibraltar.”
“He won’t come to England to wed you? Can’t Evan make him? Or is he a scoundrel who’s refusing to behave as he ought?”
“No, no,” Amelia hastily stated, “it’s nothing like that. I didn’t discover I was increasing until I was back in England, and he’s been transferred to India. He’s on his way there even as we speak.”
“Oh, no.”
“It’s quite a conundrum.”
“It certainly is. What will you do?”
“We’ve been debating. My first choice would be to throw myself off a cliff, but Evan won’t let me.”
Jo chuckled, but miserably. “I’m on Evan’s side. That’s a terrible idea.”
“My second choice is to change my name and move to a village in the country where I could pretend to be a war widow.”
“There are too many females using that ploy these days. I don’t believe it still works.”
“Or I could lock myself in a home for unwed mothers and give the baby out for adoption.”
“Could you do that, Amelia? And if you imagine you could, please take some advice from a woman who has a baby in her nursery. I think such a decision would haunt you forever.”
“I agree, so we’ve been talking about flitting off to Scotland for the remainder of my confinement. We’d rent a house while we wait for the birth, and we’d return to town later. We’re hoping it wouldn’t stir so many rumors.”
“It’s a viable plan.”
“We’ve endlessly pondered, but it’s the only feasible option we could devise.”
“I might have another one for you.”
“What is it?”
“Peyton intends to ask Evan about it, but there’s no harm in my mentioning it.”
“Ask Evan what?”
“Peyton wants him to reside at Benton and be his estate agent.”
Amelia gasped. “That is the best idea ever! They would be together every minute.”
“Yes, and the agent’s cottage is large and modern and refurbished. You’d all fit in comfortably. It might be the perfect solution for you.”
Amelia nodded enthusiastically. “Lady Benton, I am so glad I wrote to you. I think—with Peyton offering Evan a job—you may have solved every problem in my world.”
* * * *
James trotted down the deserted country lane, enjoying the autumn colors of the forest. It was late afternoon, and the sun would set very soon. He’d been riding for several hours, and he was exhausted, his scar aching unbearably. He was starving too.
He never rode for extended periods now. His body couldn’t stand the strain, and he viewed it as the ultimate twist of Fate: The expert horse trainer could barely sit on a horse.
He was eager to arrive at Denby, so he’d been pushing himself, but he wasn’t keen to gallop down unfamiliar roads in the dark. He had to find a bed for the night, and it was another sign of how embarrassingly frail he’d grown. Prior to being injured, he’d have bunked down in the woods, but with his leg throbbing, he couldn’t sleep on the ground. There would be no rest that way.
He was proceeding like an imprudent fool, making rash decisions he wouldn’t ordinarily make. Once he’d convinced himself to leave the army, he’d engaged in a tempest of activity focused on one goal and one goal only: catching Brinley and stopping her.
In a few quick hours, he’d shucked off his sixteen-year career. The army had been practically gleeful in accepting his resignation. He’d packed his bags, said goodbye to the men who mattered, then rushed to the harbor and boarded the first ship that would take him toward England.
He hadn’t said goodbye to his horses. He’d simply left, and ever since, he’d been in perpetual motion. He felt adrift, as if he was floating free and completely disconnected from the Earth.
As he was scolding himself for failing to rein in at a town he’d passed earlier, he went by the entrance to the Benton estate, and he was a half-mile beyond it before he halted.
He knew the earl, Peyton Prescott, from when they were boys, and he was positive Peyton would furnish him with some supper and a bed. He spun around and cantered back, anxious to climb off his horse while he still could.
* * * *
“You’re the quietest person we’ve ever met. Do you ever talk?”
“Sometimes,” Laura said. “Mostly, I don’t see the point.”
She stared at the three girls—Daisy, Alice, and Nancy Prescott—who were sisters and Lord Benton’s nieces. Daisy and Alice were Laura’s same age, but Nancy was two years older.
It was strange to be socializing with other girls, strange to watch them and listen to them chatting. She and Brinley had usually wallowed with bachelors who drank and gambled and carried on in disgusting ways. There were no children in that world.
On the rare occasions when Laura had been in school, there were other girls present, but with her circumstances being so unstable, she’d never had a chance to be friends with any of them.
She’d frequently wondered what it would be like to have a friend. She thought it would be thrilling too to have a normal sister, one who held your hand during a thunderstorm and braided your hair when you were too little to braid it yourself.
The Prescott sisters didn’t argue or call each other names or say cruel things just because they could. She felt as if she was observing a peculiar species of animal or perhaps it was like a theatrical play with odd characters n
ot found in real life.
She was studying them carefully, mimicking their conduct, speech, and mannerisms. Mrs. Bennett and Miss Boyle would be happy if she could behave like the three girls.
Fortunately, she was attired similarly, so they had no reason to tease her for being different. Her hair was brushed and tied with a ribbon. Her shoes were shined, and her dress was clean and pretty. Mrs. Bennett always fussed over Laura’s appearance, so the Prescott sisters didn’t gape at her as if she were a homeless waif.
“Are you an orphan?” Alice constantly asked questions.
Laura nodded. Nodding was easy. Explanations were difficult.
“But you have a sister. I heard Miss Boyle telling Jo. Where is she?”
“I don’t know. She ran away.”
The sisters exchanged avid glances, and Laura imagined it was a gripping story to them. They were rich and resided in a mansion. They would never believe what Laura had seen and done, and she wasn’t about to confess any of it.
“If your sister came back,” Alice inquired, “would you have to live with her again?”
Laura shook her head. “No. I can stay with Miss Boyle forever if I want.”
“She’s nice,” Daisy said. “You’re lucky.”
Laura had been lucky recently, but she wasn’t optimistic. Even though Miss Boyle and her brother insisted she could remain with them, she was terrified Brinley might show up and demand Laura leave with her.
Laura couldn’t guess what sort of authority Miss Boyle had to stop Brinley. In Laura’s mind, Brinley was incredibly powerful. If she decided to take Laura, she would, and Laura might vanish without Miss Boyle even realizing she was gone. Laura had to be exceedingly alert, in case Brinley was sneaking up on her.
They were walking across the swathed lawn in front of the manor. The sun was setting, and the sisters claimed they’d be having supper very soon. Laura was starving and hoped they wouldn’t have to wait much longer to eat.
She’d mentioned she liked horses, and they’d given her a tour of the stables. Laura had been amazed to find so many beautiful animals under one roof, and fleetingly, she’d pictured herself living at Benton so she could tend them.
Of course that was ridiculous. She would never abandon Miss Boyle, but Miss Boyle didn’t keep a carriage or own a horse, which was very depressing. Laura had barely touched a horse since departing Gibraltar.
She missed Captain Hastings so much. She tried to never think about him, but it was impossible not to. Miss Boyle and Mrs. Bennett never talked about him, so Laura didn’t either, but it wasn’t fair that she had to pretend she didn’t know him.
He’d been kind to Laura. He’d paid attention to her, had noted how smart she was, and had allowed her to help with his horses. She couldn’t recollect ever being so happy as she’d been in Gibraltar.
She wished she could figure out how to write him a letter. She’d tell him Miss Boyle was having a baby, and she thought—if he learned of it—he might hurry home.
“Tomorrow will be very exciting,” Alice said. “Our brother and sister, Bobby and Jane, will be here.”
Daisy added, “You’ll fall in love with Bobby. He is the cutest boy ever. Every girl who meets him wants to marry him someday.”
Laura doubted she’d be impressed—boys never impressed her—but she nodded politely to indicate that she’d probably fall in love with their brother too.
“They live in a castle,” Daisy said.
Laura’s eyes widened. A castle would be so fabulous. She’d never seen one.
“It’s out on an island,” Alice explained, “and when the tide rushes in, you’re trapped until it goes out again. It’s very old too. There are ghosts floating in the halls.”
Daisy said, “Maybe Miss Boyle will let you come with us next time we travel to Cornwall to visit them.”
“I’d like that,” Laura replied, and she meant it.
They’d reached the driveway and were rounding the final curve to the doors into the manor when she noticed a rider approaching out on the lane. He was quite a distance away, trotting through the orchards, but from how he sat in the saddle, she frowned and stared.
The sisters weren’t aware she’d halted, but they had kept on. Eventually, Alice called, “Laura, what are you looking at?”
The man emerged from the trees, and she was so stunned, she collapsed down onto a knee.
“Laura!” Daisy yelled. “Are you all right?’
The trio started toward her, but Laura jumped up and ran in the other direction.
“James! James!” she shouted. On hearing her, he glanced about, curious as to who had hailed him, and she waved frantically in the waning light. “James! I’m here! I’m here!”
She was laughing, crying too, and she couldn’t remember ever crying before.
He reined in and peered down at her. “Laura?”
“Yes, it’s me! It’s me!”
“Am I losing my mind?”
“No, no,” she hollered, running faster.
He kicked his horse into a gallop, and he raced to her, leaning down to scoop her into the saddle as if they were circus acrobats.
She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.
“I knew you’d come,” she said. “I just knew it.”
“What are you doing at Benton?” he asked.
“Waiting for you! What do you think?”
* * * *
As James entered the manor, his head was spinning. He was carrying Laura on his hip as if she were a toddler, but she was gripping him so anxiously he doubted he’d ever be able to pry her loose.
He was surrounded by a group of pretty blond girls, all about Laura’s age. They were chattering like hens, peppering him with questions. They were holding onto him too—clasping his coat hem—and leading him inside.
He could barely get a word in edgewise, so he was confused as to why Laura was at Benton, who the blond girls were, and why they were escorting him.
Laura kept patting him on the cheek and repeating, “Everything will be fine now.”
He certainly hoped so.
In the foyer, a butler tried to intervene and shoo the girls away, but they ignored him.
“This is my brother,” Laura announced, and James didn’t contradict her.
“You didn’t tell us you had a brother!” one of the girls said as if in accusation.
They stared up at him, demanding clarification, and he just grinned.
He hadn’t ever claimed Brinley as a sibling, but he was definitely eager to claim Laura. She wasn’t a Hastings, but Robert had turned her into one by sharing his love of horses.
James had given her to Amelia, convinced he couldn’t raise her when he was in the army and headed for India, but he wasn’t in the army any longer, and—once he straightened out Brinley’s mess—he would have his lawyer file legal papers so he could become Laura’s guardian. They could reside at Denby and train horses forever.
Down the hall, two men marched toward them. They were tall, strapping fellows about James’s age. Peyton Prescott was on the right, but he didn’t know the other one, and somewhere along the way, he’d lost a hand.
“Who’s this?” Peyton asked the girls.
“He’s Laura’s brother!”
The man with Peyton muttered, “Laura doesn’t have a brother.”
Peyton approached, and to James’s relief, he was instantly recognized.
“James!” Peyton said. “What a nice surprise!”
“I was praying you’d remember me,” James told him. “May I still call you Peyton? Or are you Benton now?”
“I’m Benton, but I’ll answer to anything.”
“I was riding through the area, and I suppose I’ll be imposing horridly, but I’m exhausted, and I thought I’d throw myself on your mercy for the night.”
“You won’t be imposing. This accursed mansion has dozens of bedchambers. I’m sure we can find you a bed.”<
br />
“We’re about to have supper too,” Laura added.
“Good,” James said. “I’ve been traveling all day, and I’m starving.”
Peyton’s companion stepped forward, his gaze narrowed menacingly.
“Who are you again?” he asked James.
Laura responded before James could. “It’s Captain Hastings. He was our great friend when we were in Gibraltar.”
The man blanched. “Captain Hastings? You’re lucky I don’t kill you where you stand.”
“Whoa!” James snapped. “I don’t believe you and I have ever met. What did I do?”
The man turned to Peyton and said, “He and I need to speak privately.”
Peyton hesitated, nearly interrogated him as to the purpose of the request, then said, “Let’s use the parlor behind me.” He frowned at the girls. “All of you stay out here until we’re finished. And no eavesdropping through the keyhole!”
The gaggle giggled and cast furtive glances at each other, indicating they would absolutely eavesdrop. James was perplexed about what was happening, but the one-armed man glared and sneered.
“Captain Hastings? If you’ll come with me please?”
How could he refuse? He set Laura on her feet, and she whispered, “Don’t worry. It will be all right.”
The man gestured to Peyton. “Would you join us? Depending on how Captain Hastings replies to my questions, I may have to commit murder. If so, you’ll have to kill him for me. In my current reduced condition, I can’t manage it myself.”
He stomped off, leaving James to wonder what sort of madhouse he’d entered. He might have stormed out, but Peyton said, “Would you chat with us, Hastings? We’ll deal with him, then we’ll eat supper. I’m starving too.”
They went into the room, the girls tagging after them. Peyton waved them away and shut the door in their curious faces.
Then the one-armed man whirled on James, his glower intense. “Captain Hastings, I am Evan Boyle. Amelia Boyle is my sister.”
“Uh-oh,” Peyton said, “this doesn’t sound good.” He scowled at James. “What did you do to Amelia? If it’s awful, I’m on Evan’s side. You may not walk out alive.”
