Gayle Callen - [Brides of Redemption 02]

by Surrender to the Earl

  It was amazing to think that the daughter of a baron had never been beyond her own village, never been to London. Part of him wanted to give her some of those experiences—and then he had to rein himself in. He was escorting her to her new home, making sure she was settled, and then his debt to Blake would be repaid.

  But would it? he wondered. Would these feelings of guilt finally give him some peace?

  “You must think our excitement rather silly, Robert,” Audrey said, “especially when you’ve seen so much of the world.”

  “And that’s why it’s refreshing.”

  “Were you just as excited when you first left England?”

  He hesitated. It had been nine years ago, and Stephen Kepple had just taken his own life. Robert had been questioning everything about himself, his motives, his beliefs, his ability to be the earl. But he wouldn’t tell her any of this. “I was excited to see lands that weren’t green and wet all the time. Little did I know, but India has a monsoon season that makes England’s weather look tame in comparison. And don’t forget about the six weeks at sea.” He gave an exaggerated shudder, then realized she couldn’t see him, but he got a smile out of Molly.

  The carriage was bouncing on the country roads, making it too difficult for Molly to read aloud for any length of time. So the two of them settled on going over the list of servants at the manor.

  “I’ve been corresponding with the land agent hired by my late husband’s estate,” Audrey explained when he expressed curiosity. “I’m told a family has been caring for the manor for the last few years. The mother is the cook and housekeeper, the father takes care of the grounds, their son is the footman, and a daughter is the maid.”

  “Well, that makes it convenient,” Robert said. “With none of the Blake family there, it’s been like their own home.”

  Audrey’s brow furrowed. “Very true. I imagine we’ll all get used to one another.”

  She was already taking care of the people attached to her manor. Robert didn’t even know most of the ones who served him. At the London town house, the only familiar faces had been the butler and housekeeper. He hadn’t even been to his country house yet. He and Audrey were almost on the same journey. While she’d be getting to know her new home, he’d be relearning the one he left behind a lifetime ago, one that ran without any effort by him at all. He’d hired the right staff, he told himself. That’s what he’d paid them to do. He found himself hesitant about getting too involved—his father had always had that trait. In the military, one allowed the officers to command their regiments, one did not try to do every job. He’d learned his lesson.

  “He’s fallen asleep,” Molly whispered sometime later, and the two women lapsed into a peaceful silence.

  Audrey’s thoughts drifted, but she was too wound up to sleep. She recalled her earlier conversation with Robert, when she’d asked if he’d been excited leaving England. There had been something in his voice that seemed . . . different. He’d answered lightly about the weather, as if that was all that mattered. She hadn’t asked more questions, because there was no point in prying. Yet he knew so much of her life; she couldn’t help being curious about his.

  Audrey still felt dreamy with happiness and expectation. At last she was free to chart her own course. She imagined the countryside streaming by her, all detailed so lovingly by Molly’s gift for words.

  She felt the carriage slow and thought it must be noon. They’d stopped midmorn to water and feed the horses, and decided then to take a more extended break for luncheon.

  “I must have closed my eyes,” Robert said.

  She smiled. “So I heard. I hope you found some rest.”

  “I did, thank you. We’ve arrived at an inn. Let me get down and I’ll assist you.”

  She accepted his hand, and when she was on the ground, she trailed her fingers along the carriage until she reached the back. Her gelding, Erebus, came near and nuzzled her shoulder.

  “You’ve been so good,” she murmured, petting his nose.

  She heard their coachman call for grooms to care for the horses, and then Robert took her arm.

  “Shall we share a meal?” he asked.

  “I’m starving,” she agreed.

  As they walked, she heard the ringing of a hostler’s bell at the gate, and the voices of servants in the stable yard off to the side. There were so many people, she realized.

  “I’ll rent a private dining room,” Robert was saying. “We can relax there.”

  “No, I’d like to eat in the public rooms with the other travelers. I can’t see, but I can hear, and it all sounds wonderful.”

  He chuckled. “Very well. Take a step up here, and we’ll be in the front hall.”

  “Ooh, Miss Audrey, there’s a row of basins and jugs,” Molly said. “Would you like to wash?”

  “Yes, please!”

  Molly chatted on about the cupboard displaying pies and cheeses, and how the next open room was crowded with tables and benches where people were eating.

  “This way, ladies.”

  “There must be a servants’ hall,” Molly protested.

  “You’ll eat with us,” Audrey said. “We’re sharing this adventure together, remember?”

  Molly giggled.

  As Robert once again took Audrey’s arm and turned into the next room, the sounds were overwhelming, dozens of people talking at once. She was suddenly bumped from behind.

  “Excuse me, miss!” someone called.

  “The waiter,” Molly said quietly. “There are so many bustling about.”

  “He should watch where he’s going,” Robert said coldly.

  “He didn’t hurt me,” Audrey pointed out.

  “Our table has benches, not chairs,” he said. “Will that do?”

  “Of course.” She reached to feel the table, then let go of Robert to find the bench. She stepped sideways along it, making room for Molly at her side.

  And that was when the hushed voices began, spreading out from around them. The travelers around them had realized she was blind.

  “You can’t be the only blind woman they’ve ever seen,” Robert said crossly.

  Audrey smiled. “I imagine most are beggars, and anyone highborn isn’t using a public coaching house. They’ll become used to me.”

  The waiter raised his voice, the old trick, and Audrey could feel—and hear—Robert’s tension rise. He really was far too protective. This was nothing she had not experienced the time or two she’d been permitted into the village.

  And then a baby wailed.

  The sudden stab of grief took her by surprise, and she found herself holding still, listening. After her baby had died, she’d spent months wallowing in her sorrow, wondering why God had punished her, when so much had already happened. Gradually she’d come to terms with her loss, but she was never near babies.

  “Audrey?” Robert asked.

  Hearing the puzzlement in his voice, she put those feelings aside again. “Yes?”

  “The expression on your face—” he began, then stopped. “It is none of my business.”

  She didn’t have to answer, because a waiter chose that moment to inform them of the menu.

  The meal, veal pies and cabbage, was plain but hardy, and afterward they strolled through the gardens, both vegetable and flower gardens, to stretch their legs and give the horses a chance to rest. But they changed the carriage horses, and soon they were on their way again. The coachman had an inn in mind for the night until an axel broke, jolting the passengers.

  Robert cursed their bad luck, but was surprised how unaffected Audrey seemed. She said she was happy for any new experience, and listened contentedly as Molly described the coachman riding one of the carriage horses up the hill toward a manor in the distance. Robert didn’t know if he should have gone himself to smooth the way, but wasn’t about to leave Audrey. Soon enough, an older-model carriage came trundling down the drive.

  As he assisted Audrey from their listing carriage, the coachman said, “Sir
Miles Paley and his family live here. They’d be honored if ye’d spend the night while I see to the carriage repairs at the local blacksmith.”

  When they finally stood in the little entrance hall of the manor, Lady Paley didn’t bother to hide her surprise as she studied Audrey. She was a petite woman, with delicate, childlike hands she absently rubbed together. “You’re Audrey Collins?”

  “Audrey Blake, ma’am,” she corrected. “My husband was killed when stationed with the army in India.”

  Sir Miles, tall and slightly stooped, gave a guilty smile. “We all assumed you a reclusive invalid, Mrs. Blake.”

  Audrey accepted their assumptions with ease, while Robert wanted to bash some heads together. Of course, this wasn’t their fault.

  And then they turned the full force of their enthusiasm on him.

  “Please meet my daughters, Lord Knightsbridge,” Lady Paley said with proud formality. “Miss Rachel Paley and Miss Rosalind Paley. Girls, meet the Earl of Knightsbridge, here in our own home!”

  Both young women were tall and coltish like their father, almost meeting Robert in height. It must be difficult to find husbands, but his presence unquestionably put that worry right out of their minds.

  He smiled politely, then took Audrey’s arm. “May my fiancée rest before dinner? It’s been a long day.”

  Surely the coachman had already told them of Audrey’s status, but their faces looked like he’d slapped them with the reminder. He saw Audrey holding back a smile. She’d come in handy—and she knew it.

  By the time dinner was served, the Paley family had calmed down, eager to show off their lovely china and silver place settings.

  In the middle of an awkward pause, as the family tried not to stare at Audrey eating, Sir Miles said, “You’ve been long gone from England, my lord, but not on the Grand Tour other young noblemen take. Why the army?”

  It was a personal question at the same time as it was an obvious one. He’d answered it with Audrey and her father, but he saw that she was still very interested, by the way her head was tilted toward him. Had she sensed there was more?

  And suddenly he flashed back, to when he’d heard Stephen Kepple was dead by his own hand, the stunned, sick feelings that had tightened his gut, the first realization of guilt. He’d wondered if it had been his fault Kepple was dead, even as others told him that Kepple was never strong enough for the risky investments he’d gotten involved in. It was Robert’s fault Kepple was even involved, for he’d pretended to be the man’s friend, all to get his participation in the early railway deal. And when it had gone bad, everyone had lost money. He would never know if Kepple had realized he’d been manipulated into joining, or if the man had foolishly risked too much of his own money. But none of that mattered, for Robert had discovered he was a controlling bully, just like his father. And he’d had to find a way to change himself, before he had no friends and no self-respect, which had already taken a terrible blow. The army had helped him before it was too late.

  Could he say that to the waiting Paley family? No. But he could say part of the truth, and perhaps Audrey would be appeased as well.

  “There was a retired army colonel in our village while I was growing up,” he said at last. “Originally he helped my tutor teach me history before I went off to Eton, but it was his own stories that I found the most fascinating. He’d been at Waterloo and other famous battles. Everyone respected him, and he knew he’d contributed much to the protection of England. I wanted to feel that way. I was only twenty when my father died, and even though I reached my majority within the year, I never felt like I was the earl.”

  “Your father’s shadow was long,” Sir Miles said, nodding with understanding. “It is difficult to follow a great man.”

  Robert only nodded. It wasn’t difficult to follow his father—it was all too easy to become him. He felt ashamed at the thought of his military mentor knowing about the men who’d died because of his rash decisions. “I learned loyalty and duty in the army, and I became a man. There were triumphs and there were sorrows, but I don’t regret many.”

  He glanced at Audrey. Some, he thought. I regret some.

  And now here he was, supposedly engaged to a woman who swore she never wanted to marry again. But he’d seen her expression when that baby had wailed at the coaching inn. Didn’t all women wish to be mothers? Or did she think a blind woman shouldn’t give birth, and that was another reason she swore never to marry?

  They all retired to the parlor together, where the daughters took turns at the piano to show off their skills, and never once did their hosts direct much of their conversation toward Audrey.

  Robert had had it. “Please allow me the pleasure of introducing you to my fiancée’s talents at the piano.”

  Audrey blinked those lovely amber eyes at him. “My lord—”

  “She is very shy, you must understand,” he confided to the Paleys. “But you’ll soon see that she’s wrong to be worried about her musical skill.”

  The family looked ready to wince, so their shock as she played the first measure was satisfying to behold.

  But it wasn’t until they were in the carriage the next day that Audrey let him know what she thought of his own performance.

  “Robert, you did not ask me if I wanted to play the piano for the Paley family.”

  “Of course I did,” he said, smiling.

  “No, you offered my performance without giving me any say at all.”

  His smile died as he took in her cool tone of voice, and the way Molly deliberately looked out the window.

  “I am not a trained monkey that you can bring out and have perform on command,” she continued sternly.

  “I wanted them to see the accomplished young woman you are, not the invalid they all assume. Every young lady performs—are they trained monkeys, too?”

  “Of course not.”

  “As an earl, I am often on display,” he asked. “I grew up watching commoners deal with my father with some awe. Then I was in the military, where only the experience of my rank and what I’d learned on the battlefield mattered to my men. And now I’m back in Society, where my title alone lets a family push their daughters at me, and ignore you. So do you not think I sometimes have the right to use my title?”

  She sighed. “I can grasp your point. But I’m not sure I agree with it.”

  After that, the day passed slowly, with some tension, as rain drummed on the roof above their heads and made the roads turn muddy. Even Audrey seemed to grow weary of Molly’s descriptions of the same rain-drenched gardens, and the chessboard that was the hedgerowed countryside.

  That night, they registered at an inn, which had decent accommodations, especially for an earl, as the owner kept repeating in a groveling tone. Once in his room, Robert wasn’t even tired as he paced and listened to Molly, through thin walls, describe in detail their room, the paces separating pieces of furniture. When he heard Audrey stumble and laugh at herself, he could only be impressed. Next, Molly read a book aloud.

  He ruminated on his earlier conversation with Audrey, where he’d actually complained about the perils of being an earl to a blind woman. Not only did he have wealth and power, he had the ability to do anything he wished. Had he thought the military had shown him all he had to learn? No, there was still so much of life he took for granted, and a blind woman was showing him that.

  If they were actually to marry, their quarrels could worsen. She might resent him for being able to do all the things she couldn’t, or he might resent her for slowing him down, or making him defensive. Or was he just trying to remind himself he didn’t have to worry about such a choice?

  Angry with himself, he lay back in the bed and covered his eyes with his forearm.

  Audrey was almost ready for bed. She was wearing her dressing gown over her nightdress, and Molly had already brushed her hair out. There were two small beds on parallel walls, a table and two chairs, a chest of drawers, and a washstand. Audrey had paced among the furnishings seve
ral times, until she was comfortable. Now she could hear Molly at the washstand, humming softly to herself as she often did.

  But Audrey wasn’t tired, though she told Molly to blow out the candle. She kept pacing, remembering Robert’s description of why he’d entered the military. She’d known for certain he was leaving things out. What about the man who’d killed himself? How did that all fit in? She would have given anything to ask, but not in front of the Paley family.

  Her thoughts were disturbed by a brisk knock at the door.

  Before Audrey could even speak, Molly said, “Surely it could only be Lord Knightsbridge.”

  “Perhaps we should ask—”

  But then she heard Molly open the door, a startled gasp, and the sound of something heavy hitting the wooden floor.

  “Molly?” Audrey cried.

  No one answered, though someone breathed heavily. The bolt slid home with a thump to lock them in. She slowly backed away, even as the first fear raised gooseflesh up her spine.

  A chair skittered suddenly, and she heard a mild oath. A man’s voice, but not Robert’s. A thief! She started to shake, but she focused her mind. Had the intruder tripped? Then she remembered that the candle was out, and he couldn’t see.

  The back of her legs hit the bed, and she dropped to her knees, hoping the man wouldn’t detect her location.

  He was moving around in the dark. “Where are ye, wench?” he crooned. “I just want yer gold. Give it to me, and I’ll let ye go. I don’t hurt cripples.”

  She didn’t believe that. Crawling very slowly toward the nightstand, she silently cursed her dressing gown as it tangled around her thighs. She froze when she heard a board creak nearby, felt the breeze of his passing, but he was heading toward the other bed—Molly’s bed. Oh, God, let her dear friend be all right, she silently prayed.

  At last she reached the nightstand, and using her hand to feel along the top, she discovered the book Molly had been reading from, a hairbrush—and at last the candleholder, which felt as solid as it had looked. Lifting it carefully, she brought it to her lap, and yanked out the candle itself, setting it beneath the bed.