Gayle Callen - [Brides of Redemption 02]

by Surrender to the Earl

  “What are you saying?”

  “He thought—he thought you would want to come home, and I was to tell him when you were ready. I was supposed to tell him everything that happened, but I didn’t, I swear. He even sent a letter to the Sanfords with your coachman on that first day, telling them that you were only hurting yourself, and that you should be at home.”

  Audrey closed her eyes on a groan. “Another reason they had problems with me from the start.”

  “But I saw you, Audrey, I knew you were going to be successful, and I wanted to be a part of it, to help you. And now I’ve ruined everything.”

  “You didn’t ruin everything, Robert did,” Audrey said coldly.

  “Robert? Why are you blaming him when this is my fault?”

  “Because once he knew about the baby, he courted me out of pity, made me fall in love with him—I am such a fool!” She fisted her hands.

  “Oh, no, you’re not!” Blythe insisted, catching her hand and making her stop pacing. “You need to hear what I’ve seen. I’ve been watching Robert all this time, and he’s fallen in love with you right before my very eyes. There is such tenderness—”

  “You mean pity,” Audrey interrupted with bitterness.

  “Eyes can be powerful, and you don’t understand that. I know the difference between pity and love. Do you not think I have seen others show their pity on their faces? He loves you Audrey! It shines from him. Can you not feel it?”

  “No,” she whispered. “And he never said it. I don’t trust a single thing I’m feeling, and I won’t make another terrible marriage. I’d rather be alone.”

  “How can a marriage be terrible if you love him?” Blythe asked plaintively.

  “During my first marriage, there was no love at all, and I still felt betrayed when Martin left me behind. But if I love Robert—imagine how he could hurt me? I won’t do it, I won’t marry him,” she insisted, even as she knew she sounded almost hysterical.

  Blythe only blew her nose again. “I . . . I feel responsible for this.”

  “You aren’t. He should have told me he knew, and instead, he seduced me.”

  Blythe gave a little gasp. “Oh, Audrey . . .”

  “Now don’t you pity me, too, I couldn’t take it!” She covered her face with both hands. “Just—just leave me be, Blythe. I forgive you, because it was just a slip of the tongue.”

  “I don’t know if I deserve your forgiveness,” she whispered.

  “Then that makes me certain I forgive you. Go to bed, Blythe. I’ll be all right.”

  Blythe put her arms around her, and Audrey accepted the hug, and even tightened it for a fierce moment. She would get through this, and she would have her sister, even if she never rid herself of this terrible ache deep inside where her bright love used to be.

  Robert stood in one of the guest bedrooms at Rose Cottage, staring at the wall that separated Audrey and him, feeling tired and frustrated and angry with himself.

  The guilt he bore for helping cause the death of her husband—that she’d understood and thought an honest mistake, though it changed everything about her life.

  But withholding that he knew the truth about the death of her child? How had he not seen how important that would be to her?

  Because, of course, he always thought he knew best. He’d spent his entire life trying to be a different man, a better man, and still hadn’t managed it.

  But it wasn’t too late. He and Audrey were meant to be together, however their relationship had come about. The more he knew her, the more amazed he was by her strength, courage, and compassion. He no longer felt pity or duty-bound—he’d fallen in love with her. Every time he was separated from her, the days stretched out as if with no reason, if he couldn’t share them with her.

  But would she ever believe this? He had to find some way to convince her of the truth.

  Audrey delayed coming down to breakfast, but it didn’t matter. Robert was still there in the morning, waiting for her, his “Good morning” full of a resolution that didn’t bode well for her peace of mind.

  Peace of mind? She’d barely gotten a few hours’ sleep, and her mind felt sluggish and sad. Any peace was cowering in a corner as her dark thoughts chased each other around.

  When she heard no other voices or movement, she asked, “Where are my other guests?” keeping her voice impassive.

  “They breakfasted and went walking with Blythe. Your sister said you usually walk with her, but she didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Audrey only nodded.

  “Michael and Cecilia will be leaving soon after.” He paused, then asked softly, “How are you?”

  She felt the barest brush along her arm and pulled away. “I can’t force you to leave, Robert, but I need you to do so, to stop visiting me.”

  “I won’t give up, Audrey. I’ve fallen in love with you, and somehow I’ll find a way to prove it to you, to make you believe.”

  “You’re just hurting me!” she whispered, backing away. “And for all I know, you’re only concerned because there might be a child.”

  “And I would love our child, even as I love you.”

  She whirled and departed for her study, feeling the sting of tears she’d become so good at suppressing. She slammed the door hard, and barely resisted sliding down to the floor. She didn’t want to think of their child, or how it would force her to marry, make her give up her independence. She wouldn’t want her child to suffer Arthur’s fate, that of a nameless bastard.

  And she wanted to cry because she’d spent the last three days missing Robert terribly, had felt everything brighten the moment he’d arrived to share the tenant feast with her. And he’d destroyed all that. All along she’d been softening toward him, imagining him lonely but for the memories of a brother he’d never been permitted to love, parents who hadn’t loved him. If he knew, he’d think she was pitying him, she thought bitterly. Everything was so complicated.

  When Michael and Cecilia were preparing to leave later that morning, Audrey felt composed, although she imagined she could not hide that something was wrong. She was simply grateful that Robert would be leaving as well.

  But he didn’t plan to leave, had even brought his own horse, to her frustration.

  As the men were saying their good-byes, she felt a touch on her arm.

  “Audrey, may I speak privately with you?” Cecilia asked.

  “Of course.” Curious in spite of herself, Audrey led the way across the hall to her study, then turned to await what the other woman had planned.

  “Robert has said nothing to either Michael or me, but I can see that problems have appeared overnight. You both seemed so happy yesterday.”

  Audrey hesitated, but she didn’t want to lie—lies were what had put her in this position. “I discovered . . . some unsettling truths.”

  “Was it about their military service and the terrible tragedy that took my father’s life, along with your husband’s?”

  Audrey nodded without elaborating, unable to bear the thought of one more person’s pity. “Did Michael withhold the truth from you?”

  Cecilia sighed aloud. “He did, and probably for the same reasons Robert did—guilt and shame. I don’t think we could punish them any more than they’ve already punished themselves.”

  “This isn’t about punishment,” Audrey said tightly, “but trust.”

  “I withheld things from Michael, painful things about my family and our past. I told myself it wasn’t his business, or even that I didn’t want to relive everything.”

  “But this was my business—this concerned my dead husband.” And me, when Robert hid his reasons for courting me. How many times can I believe what a man tells me?

  She’d withheld the truth about her baby—but that didn’t affect Robert at all. It was her private sorrow, something she was trying to leave in the past as she began her new life.

  Or did it concern him? Did it give him a complete picture of her, one he deserved? She was so confused.

>   “Audrey,” Cecilia said, “it is not my place to try to change your mind. I only ask that you give it much thought before making any final decisions. I cannot tell you how wonderfully happy the two of you looked together. Michael told me he’d always hoped Robert would at last find the family he deserved.”

  Those words were as sharp and painful as a knife, but she forced herself to nod. “Thank you for the advice, Cecilia. I will keep it in mind.”

  “Write to me, please? I would truly like to consider you a friend.”

  “I will. I have to warn you—my handwriting is atrocious.”

  Cecilia chuckled, and they hugged in parting.

  After Michael and Cecilia had gone, Robert and Audrey stood in the entrance hall for a frozen moment. She heard the tap of Blythe’s slippers as she walked away.

  “Audrey, we should talk,” Robert asked.

  “No.” She turned and closed the study door behind her.

  But all day long, he remained at Rose Cottage, and she was forced to encounter him whatever she did. He didn’t try to force her to listen to explanations, he was always just . . . there.

  For Robert, the day was interminable. He wasn’t going to be like Audrey’s puppy, trying to follow her around, but he ate meals with her, and in between walked the grounds he’d come to enjoy. The management of Rose Cottage and the larger estate had helped him come to grips with the management of his earldom, and he would always have fond thoughts of it. He’d hoped it might even become Audrey’s dower property again when they married.

  As the evening approached, and his presence in a feminine household risked scandalizing her neighbors, he realized she was just waiting him out, as if to see if he’d leave—or show himself as a man who’d risk a woman’s reputation to have what he wanted. But he wouldn’t do that, for those would only be the tactics of his father, and Robert didn’t have to be him. Loving her had taught him that.

  But maybe Audrey didn’t know that.

  After dinner, he found her alone in the drawing room, crocheting slowly, her expression one of concentration as she used her nimble fingers to count the stitches she’d already made. He imagined Blythe had retired early to bed after a day warily watching the two of them.

  Audrey tilted her head toward the door.

  “It’s me,” Robert said. “I’m leaving, but I’d like to talk to you before I do.”

  “I can’t stop you.”

  He deserved that. He stepped inside, closed the door, then crossed to sit beside her on the sofa. At least she didn’t stiffen, only continued to crochet.

  “Ever since I became the earl, I’ve spent years trying to be different from my father.”

  “I know this.”

  “You don’t know why. Just as you didn’t want to talk about your baby, I didn’t want to talk about another death, one that happened before I even bought my commission.”

  “You’ve told me about your brother, and I had already heard about your business partner who took his own life.”

  Robert stared at her. “So you knew something about my past, and didn’t ask me about it, didn’t speak up.”

  She lowered her crocheting. “It’s not the same thing. Your actions after you learned about my baby’s death are what I am most disappointed in.”

  “Then you can be disappointed even more when I tell you that I was so determined to get in early on the initial railway investments, that I manipulated Stephen Kepple. I wanted his participation, even though others told me he wasn’t strong enough for the risky investment I’d proposed. So I befriended him, got him to invest, and the deal went bad. Everyone lost money. And Kepple killed himself. I’ll never know if he realized he’d been manipulated into joining, or if he regretted how much money he’d invested. And then I knew that I was a bully, just like my father.”

  “A bully,” she echoed.

  He could hear the bitterness in her voice, but he put aside the pain of that. “I bought a commission the next day, determined to be the kind of man I’d once idolized, the retired army officer who lived near Knightsbridge Hall. He was the only man who’d ever stood up to my father, regardless of the difference in their stations. Following orders, being in command, all these things helped change me into a man who understood being part of a regiment, and not just out to do whatever I thought best.”

  “Then what happened when you met me?” she demanded.

  “You wanted my help, and I was grateful to offer it. And once I knew you, I fell in love, yet I still hurt you. A man wants to be depended upon, to protect and cherish his wife—surely that can’t be all bad. Or that’s what I told myself. It was far easier to think that than to admit that it was all about me and how I couldn’t live without you.”

  Audrey drew in a sharp breath, but said nothing.

  “I started out trying to rescue you, to appease my guilt, but I think your love rescued me.”

  She held up a hand. “Robert—”

  “Let me finish. I never could have done the things you have, left my family to begin anew, when Society doesn’t encourage women to form households. I never thought of a woman being courageous until I met you. I’ve seen men in combat, but you’re the bravest person I’ve ever known.”

  She bit her lip, her eyes downcast, and didn’t respond.

  “That’s all I wanted to say.” He stood up. “Think about our future, Audrey. Don’t give up on me, on us. I love you.”

  And he walked out the door into a misty rain. He’d said all he could—now it was up to Audrey and the powerful love he hoped she bore him.

  Audrey sat still, at war with herself. Part of her wanted to call him back, and the other part was relieved he was gone, so she wouldn’t have to listen to his painful words, to risk being drawn back in against her will.

  He’d tried to change himself, as had she. Neither of them had been perfect at it. But could she honestly trust him enough to put herself in his hands, to be vulnerable?

  “I need to speak with you,” Blythe said from the doorway.

  Audrey sighed. “Doesn’t everyone? Were you eavesdropping?”

  “Only a bit, and only because you’re making it absolutely necessary. And now it’s my turn to speak my mind.”

  Audrey groaned and tossed her crocheting on the table in front of her. “Then do it quickly.”

  “You aren’t going to want to hear it.”

  “Blythe!”

  “I think you’re afraid to marry Robert. You think that because you’re blind, it gives you even more reason. But every woman who marries has to take an incredible risk, and you’re no different just because you’re blind.”

  “Well, thank you for that,” Audrey said dryly.

  “You know what I mean! Women put themselves in the hands of men every day, and sometimes it isn’t a success, as you already know from bitter experience. Did you love Mr. Blake?”

  “You know I didn’t.”

  “He married you for your dowry. Why did you marry him?”

  “I—” Audrey broke off and had to swallow. “To start my own family.”

  “And?”

  “To get away from Father,” she finished on a whisper. “I . . . I used Martin just as much as he used me.”

  “Then I guess you’re just as flawed as the rest of us—as Robert.”

  Audrey bowed her head, and was shocked when tears dripped onto her clasped hands. “I’m so afraid to be hurt again, Blythe. It almost broke me when I understood how little regard Martin had for me. And then my sweet baby died, and I thought my life was over.”

  “But it wasn’t. Your grief eased and you have begun a whole new life. Robert wants to be a part of it, however badly it all began between you. Do you want to be alone here but for the servants? You could have your own family, Audrey.”

  Could she give up the camaraderie she’d shared with Robert, and the sweetest pleasure she’d ever known? His kisses made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world. She loved him, loved the honor that brought him to her, and the way
he treated her as any other woman. Was she going to deny her heart?

  She stood up quickly. “I sent him away.”

  “I told him to stay, that I had some things you needed to hear. I’m interfering in your life. Get used to it.”

  While Audrey gaped, she heard Blythe walk to the door and throw it open.

  “Robert, she’s not done talking to you.”

  She heard his heavy steps, smelled the cool dampness of the outdoors all around him. And she was suddenly shaking.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” Blythe said, closing the door behind her.

  “Are you cold?” Robert asked, coming closer.

  She shook her head, letting herself be surrounded in his warmth, the sweetness of love.

  “I didn’t eavesdrop, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he assured her.

  She shook her head again. Oh, God, was she really going to do this?

  The room seemed alive with him in it, and the chance to touch him was all she wanted, all she needed.

  “Oh Robert,” she whispered, reaching forward with her bare hand.

  He took it, and she felt the dampness of his gloves. With a gasp, she ran her hands up his arms.

  “You’re all wet.”

  “I was out the door when Blythe called me back. She can be just as insistent as you.”

  She covered her mouth against a bubble of laughter. “Oh, Robert,” she said again, closing her eyes as tears leaked between her lashes.

  “Don’t cry,” he said hoarsely, gathering her against him.

  She didn’t care that she was getting wet. She flung her arms about his neck and pulled his head down toward her. “Don’t leave me again. I love you.”

  With a groan, he kissed her, sweeping her up until her feet dangled, and all she had for support was his solid body.

  “Audrey, I love you.”

  And then he was kissing her face over and over, and she was memorizing the feel of his, even though she knew she’d have a lifetime to do it.

  “I trust you,” she whispered. “I want to marry you. I’m ready to find our happiness.”

  “I think we’ve already found it,” he murmured against her lips. “And we’ll never take it for granted. I’ll go purchase a Special License, because I can’t wait through weeks of church banns to make you mine.”