by Donna Hatch
Alicia drew a breath. “Elizabeth Hancock told me in her last letter that your father passed on several weeks ago, Captain Hawthorne. Please allow me to offer my condolences."
"Thank you, Lady Amesbury."
"With losing first your mother and then your father, you have suffered many losses over the last few years,” she added.
His dark eyes held hers. “As have you."
Alicia nodded silently.
"You look surprisingly well, I must say,” Catherine said to Alicia. “I'd thought you'd be gaunt and sickly after months of marriage to a monster."
Anger rose up and nearly choked her. “My husband is no monster. And I'll thank you to cease making disparaging remarks about him."
Taken aback, Catherine blinked. “Well.” She glanced at Captain Hawthorne. “Well. It takes all kinds, I suppose."
Captain Hawthorne arose, his dark eyes enegmatic. “Lady Amesbury, you have been very gracious. I hope to see you again."
Alicia saw them out, wishing Elizabeth had come instead. Perhaps she should go and pay her a call. She wondered if Nicholas would want to accompany her. She went upstairs and found him inside his room, standing by a window, leaning on his cane.
At her approach, he turned. He stood stiffly, as if angry or upset. Was he annoyed at her intrusion?
"Am I disturbing you?” she asked hesitantly.
"Not at all. Come in.” He sounded tired. He indicated a nearby chair and waited until she sat before he took a seat opposite her.
"I'd like to pay a visit to Elizabeth Hancock. She has been my dearest friend for many years and I'd love for you to become acquainted with her."
He was silent for so long, she began to doubt the wisdom of extending the invitation. She slipped back into formal speech, not wishing to displease him and break the newly formed bond between them. “My lord?"
Still he remained silent. Alicia twisted her hands in her lap. The clock on the mantle ticked noisily in the quiet room.
"So I am ‘My lord’ now again and not Nicholas?"
When her fingers began to hurt, she unclenched them and consciously smoothed her skirt. “I didn't mean that."
"You regret our union last night."
Aghast, she stared at his faceless head. “No."
Before she could elaborate, he hurried on tersely. “I do not wish to frighten your friend with my horrible appearance. Go."
She nodded, fighting disappointment. This was the man who had no comment when she spent so much time with his cousin, and who even encouraged her to do so. He'd become distant again, despite the beauty of last night.
"But take at least three servants with you,” he cautioned. “I will make sure they are armed. I do not want our killer to strike while you are helpless. Or better yet, perhaps I will accompany you as part of your guard."
She stilled. “Why?"
"Because I am not a complete invalid. I can still shoot a gun!” Uncharacteristic anger laced his words.
Confusion and hurt swirled around her heart. “I know you aren't an invalid. Why are you angry? What did I do?"
He let out his breath and turned his masked face away. “I am not angry at you, Alicia. I see things that aren't there and then I'm foolishly surprised when I do not find them."
She blinked. “I do not understand."
He leaned forward and put his arms on his thighs, his head bowed. “You don't consider me a part of your life. I was foolish to believe that, even after last night, you would actually have feelings for me."
"But I do. That's why I wanted you to come with me to call upon Elizabeth."
"But I'm not a part of your life. Not really."
She started to reach for him, but stopped. “Of course you are."
"Then why did you tell Robert that he and Hannah are all you have?"
Screams and shouting came from the corridors, interrupting their exchange. “The East Wing is on fire!"
Alicia jumped to her feet and ran out to the hall, Nicholas right behind her. On the way, she found Monique.
"Monique, please go sit with Hannah. She'll be frightened."
The maid's eyes were wide with fear. “Mais oui.” She disappeared into Hannah's room.
The faint, but unmistakable smell of smoke assailed Alicia's nose as she ran to join the servants forming a bucket brigade. Alicia passed more buckets than she could count as the servants battled the fire. It hadn't spread to the main house yet.
"What are you doing out of bed?” she snapped at Robert who stood further up in line.
"Saving my house!” he shouted back.
"Daft fool,” she muttered.
Nicholas stood in line as well, barking orders like an admiral and passing buckets with the dexterity of a whole man. He may be scarred, but was certainly no invalid.
Alicia's back ached and her arms throbbed, but still she passed an endless row of buckets. The acrid smell of smoke stung her eyes and made her cough. The efforts of the group prevented the fire from spreading, but it seemed they worked for hours before they extinguished the blaze.
"That's done it!” Someone called.
Alicia set down her bucket and pressed her hands to the small of her back. The brigade dissolved, some milling around as if unable to determine what to do next. Others drew to the house to view the destruction. Great plumes of black smoke billowed high in the sky as the sunset spread its golden glow over the land.
Weary and aching, Alicia followed her husband and cousin to survey the damage. Ash and charred timber lay in confusing rubble. Fortunately, the structural integrity of the house had only been destroyed on the far end of the wing.
"Seal off the wing until repairs can be completed.” Robert voice betrayed his emotion.
Alicia picked her way on the muddy ground among the smoking wreckage, amazed at the loss she felt. A nearby tree she and Armand had climbed as children now stood charred and lifeless. She didn't even have that to remind her of her twin now.
A blackened corner of a gilded picture frame that once framed a portrait of an ancestor stuck out of the rubble. She picked it up but it was hot and she dropped it. It crumbled into dust when it hit the ground. Others like it that had once lined the hallway of the wing could not be found; probably buried in the rubble, a lost link to her family. She had lived here all her life. And now so much was gone.
Robert moved past, looking as bereft as she felt. One eye in his battered face had swollen nearly shut, and he was smudged with soot, but the grief in his face brought tears to her eyes. Alicia wished she had something to offer as consolation.
She wandered down what was left of the smoke-darkened hallway. The closer she drew to the main house, the less damage she saw. Alicia went into Maman's room. Everything would need to be washed to remove the soot and ash, but most of it could be saved. The satinwood vanity stood in its usual place. Alicia remembered watching Maman as she prepared for a ball or a dinner party, a smile of anticipation on her gentle, lovely face while her maid arranged her glorious blond hair.
Alicia ran a hand over the wood, dusting off the ash. She pulled open a drawer and found several letters bound by a ribbon. Further back lay a small book. Maman's journal. Alicia had known of the existence of both of the letters and the journal, and had attempted to read them after Maman's death, but doing so only aggravated her pain. Perhaps now they'd be of comfort.
"The loss isn't catastrophic,” Nicholas said from the doorway.
"No."
The servants made exclamations of horror now that the danger had passed as they worked to seal off the gaping hole from the elements.
"What is that you are holding?” Nicholas asked.
"My mother's journal and some letters."
He said nothing. Looking up at him, she wondered if she'd ever really know this enigmatic man. She touched his arm briefly as she passed him and went into her room. Refreshed from her bath and a change of clothing, Alicia went to check on Hannah.
Monique sat by her bed. She arose silently at Alici
a's entrance and motioned her out the door. In the hall, they conferred in whispers.
"She grows worse, madame. Her breathing is not good. I think we should call the doctor again."
Alarmed, Alicia went inside and tiptoed to the bed. Hannah had turned a deathly gray. Her chest indented as she drew in a rattling breath as if it required great effort.
Alicia immediately sent for a doctor. Then, when she couldn't find Nicholas, she went in search of him. One of the servants said they thought they'd seen him near the burned wing. She steeled herself against the sight of such stark destruction, and the loss it would undoubtedly kindle, and made herself return there. Heavy, oiled cloth had been nailed over the charred opening, flapping ominously in the darkness.
Nicholas appeared behind her. She looked back and felt her expression soften. Strange how his appearance no longer frightened her, but had the opposite effect now. He pulled her toward him slowly, as if giving her time to escape if she wished. When she went to him willingly, he folded her into him. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning against his chest.
"I'm afraid for Hannah,” Alicia said. “I've never seen her so ill."
"Did you send for the doctor?"
"Yes."
They waited, unwilling to move from each other's arms, and stared at the destruction.
"It can be rebuilt, Alicia."
"I know. But it seems so..."
"As if a part of you has been lost."
She nodded.
"We're very fortunate no one was hurt."
She nodded again and snuggled against his chest. His arms tightened around her and he rested his chin on top of her head.
"One of the maids went into a guest room to clean at the far end of the wing, and found the fire. It had already spread through two rooms. If she hadn't discovered it, the fire would have reached the main part of the house tonight after everyone was abed."
She lifted her head. “Someone started it."
"In light of everything else that has happened, we would be foolish to assume otherwise.” Footsteps crunched outside and Nicholas tensed. “Who's there?"
"Collins, sir."
Nicholas relaxed. “All is well?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Robert set up a guard to patrol the grounds,” he told Alicia. “Collins, Smith and Barnett are keeping guard tonight. My valet, Jeffries, volunteered but he's a lousy shot.” His head tilted down toward, tenderness softening his voice. “I will keep you safe, my love, do not fear."
"I don't deserve you. I have hurt you many times, Nicholas, and I am so sorry. I do care for you.” It suddenly became difficult to use the word love. After all, he hadn't said it to her. Would he mock her?
No. Nothing about her husband was spiteful or mocking.
She looked at him unflinchingly, longing to see his expression, his eyes. “Nicholas. I don't know if you return the sentiment, and given my behavior most of our marriage, I certainly don't deserve it, but I want you to know that I love you."
He expelled his breath and his words came out strangled. “I can't tell you how I've longed to hear those words. I believed I would remain unloved all the rest of my life."
She tightened he arms around him, and burrowed into his chest, still amazed at how natural, how right, he felt. As if she'd always been meant to be there.
He held her, breathing raggedly. When he spoke again, emotion laced his voice. “I love you, Alicia. I loved you the moment I saw you."
Warmth and peace flowed through her and she closed her eyes, reveling in the knowledge that he loved her, and in the feeling of his arms around her. If only they didn't continue to have that barrier between them. She lifted her head. “Will you ever trust me enough to take off that mask?"
He hesitated, his body tensing. He let his breath out slowly. “I don't think either of us are ready for that."
She laid her head against his shoulder again. “I shall look at you with my heart and see the man underneath your scars. When you're ready. You gave me time. I shall give you the same. Perhaps, someday, when you trust me enough, you will."
His arms tightened, but he made no reply. “Come. Let's go back where it's warm and wait for the doctor."
In the parlor in front of a roaring fire, Alicia sat and opened the letters. Words of love, not eloquent, but full of sincerity, flowed from the pages as she read the missives written between her parents when their love was new. Others had been written when they were apart as her father made trips to London for business, still loving, still tender, now more confident.
Smiling, Alicia picked up the diary. Maman's neat, elegant writing painted pictures in her mind. This volume began with meeting a handsome young man. Cautious, philosophical, with dark serious eyes, he stole her heart the first evening they danced together. Over the course of a year, they courted, and wrote letters, until he finally asked her father for her hand.
Alicia read of their happy years together, her deep sorrow at burying a baby only a few months old. The next several entries were filled with despair. Then she recorded her joy at learning she was increasing again. Later she recorded giving birth to twins.
A passage recorded her discovery that before their marriage, he had kept a mistress who had borne a son, but that he had given her up when he decided to marry.
"I should not feel such dismay at this discovery. After all, keeping a mistress before marrying is not terribly uncommon. Many men keep their mistresses even after marriage. He has sworn that he has not even looked at another woman since he fell in love with me, but I can't help but fear he compares me to her, or wishes he were still with her. I question if his heart is true."
How well she understood those fears! She'd had them many times regarding Cole. A few pages later, she wrote; "Through my sorrow, I cannot help but wonder about the woman who claimed him for so long. Was she devastated when he told her he must give her up? What of his son?"
Later, Alicia read an entry expressing her joy at expecting another baby.
Robert staggered in carrying a bottle and slouched into a chair.
Alicia frowned at him. “Robert. If you ever loved me, stop drinking."
He stared at her blearily. “I just buried my father. My best friend is dead. Someone is trying to kill me. It will probably take whatever is left of my money to repair the damage to the house that is all I have of an inheritance. I am a reputed lout and no lady would ever consider an alliance with me. Tell me why I should have to face this sober."
"Because I need you. And Hannah needs you."
Startled, he gaped at her. With deliberate movements, he got up and set the bottle on a sideboard table. “Forgive me, Lissie. I have been very selfish.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek and then threw himself back into his chair to stare moodily into the fire and drag his fingers through his hair.
Alicia stared at him in astonishment, and wondered if he were in earnest. He had never acted thusly before. Robert made no further move to drink, only remained silently brooding. She puzzled over his behavior a moment and then returned to her mother's journal.
The next entries were of trivial things, but then in a shaking hand, Maman told of a miscarriage. Alicia remembered her mother's heartbreak at losing her unborn child, but reading about her anguish brought tears to Alicia's eyes. Much later, Maman recorded; "After searching my soul, I realized that my beloved husband's actions long ago does not affect us now. He is a good man, and the qualities I admired in him when I fell in love with him still exist. His love is true, and always has been. I have learned to forgive his past."
Alicia raised her eyes to her mother's portrait. How she wished she could have spoken to Maman whose guiding influence might have helped her find forgiveness for Cole sooner. She would not have—
No. She was happy with her husband. He was a good man and she loved him. With any luck, she'd never see Cole again.
The doctor arrived then and Alicia showed him to Hannah's room. When he reappeared, he looked apologetic. “I've done everything
I can. I'll return in two days to check on her."
With heavy heart, Alicia nodded. The smell of the sickroom only reminded Alicia of Armand's illness that set in after he'd been shot. Alicia swallowed her rising fear. Hannah could not even open her eyes but her fingers curled around Alicia's. She stayed next to Hannah's bed until far into the night. Alicia's head shot up in alarm when the door opened.
Nicholas and Monique came in. “Come rest, my love. Monique will stay with her."
"I will watch over her, madame, never fear,” Monique said.
Alicia argued, reluctant to leave Hannah's side, but they insisted. At her door, Nicholas took her into his arms. She turned to him, seeking solace. He scooped her up, carried her to bed and loved her sweetly and with all the passion of a whole man.
In the quiet moments, she snuggled up to him, listened to his heart beat and inhaled his masculine scent, amazed by the power of that union, and by the tenderness she felt for her husband.
"I love you, Alicia.” His whisper caressed her.
"I love you, Nicholas."
Content, and at peace, she drifted off to sleep cradled in his arms.
But it was of Cole she dreamed.
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CHAPTER 28
Cole shifted positions to relieve cramping muscles. He did not dare pace about. If the killer watched the house, movement might alert him to the trap. Cole should have taken his post inside the house sooner and not let any distraction keep him from protecting Alicia, Hannah, and Robert. Once he eliminated the threat, he planned to pursue leisure and pleasure to his heart's content, but now was not the time.
With Nicholas's grand arrival, and Cole making a show of leaving, the killer would believe them defenseless. A crippled man who could not sit a horse and few servants would not be enough to dissuade him from striking again.
That the killer would strike again soon, Cole had no doubt. He cursed himself for his carelessness. Within the week, the killer had gotten inside the house, pushed Robert down the stairs and later started a fire. Bold. Hopefully, carelessness would follow.
