by Meara Platt
“Your grandson is dying, I thought you should know,” she recited softly.
“They had already bribed the local parish priest to destroy all record of the marriage in the church register, and instructed Twombly to cut my brother’s heirs from all inheritance.” He let out a soft, mirthless laugh. “Odd the way life works. I often wonder whether my father felt some slight remorse, for he never petitioned Parliament to have Charlie removed as his heir. Perhaps he didn’t wish for anyone to know. Most important, he never destroyed the original certificate of marriage.”
“Which you found after his death.”
“So, here we are now.”
Her eyes rounded in confusion and then horror. “And now I know the secret,” she said, taking a step back.
“Julia, don’t look at me that way.”
“What way?”
“As though I lured you here to… I’m no murderer, damn it. I told you the truth because I intend to make things right. Had I meant to harm you or Charlie, I would have ordered it done in Borrowdale and, rest assured, you’d both be dead now and the deed would never have been traced back to me.”
“Did you ever consider it?”
He took her by the shoulders and drew her toward him. “No! Will you never trust me?” She refused to answer and, though they now stood close, Douglas felt as though they were a continent apart. He watched her quickening breaths as she struggled against her doubts and the realization that no one at Eastbourne would come to her rescue if she screamed.
“Do as you wish,” Douglas said quietly. “Everyone I know has lied to me for years. In truth, I doubted I could ever trust anyone again. But the investigation Homer and his Bow Street colleagues conducted in London proved that you were the only one I could trust.”
She pursed her lips and frowned. “But you don’t. You thought I was lying to you about King Cadeyrn. Perhaps you still do.”
“No,” he said, drawing her close once more. He was relieved when she didn’t move away. “I know he exists and holds great power over you and Charlie.”
He nudged her sleeve upward to examine her arm.
“They’re gone now,” she said, referring to the faerie webs.
“And won’t return as long as you put your faith in me as you did last night.”
“Last night,” she whispered. “I won’t deny that you evoked responses in me that I never dreamed possible, but if you think that I… that you can freely…”
He stifled a groan. “No, I don’t think that at all. I know we did what had to be done to save your life, but the physical act isn’t what saved you. You trusted me in that moment, followed your heart and it led you to me. That’s what you must continue to do. Listen to your heart, Julia.”
She nibbled her lower lip and turned her head to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know. This is all too much to take in.”
“Sweetheart, it will all make sense in time. Just give us a little time.”
“Have you told me all of it? Are there any more secrets?”
“No, you now know everything I do.” He nudged her sleeve back over her wrist. “We’ll tell Charlie tomorrow.”
“We?”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t think of telling him without you. After all, you matter more to him than anyone else in this world, hopefully in any world. You gave him unconditional love, gave him hope that his dreams would come true. He was the prince on a quest to find his true place in the world. He’s found it now. He belongs at Eastbourne. This is his home. His, not mine. He’ll want you by his side when I tell him.”
“But this is your home as well.”
“I’ll reside here until Charlie’s old enough to handle the Eastbourne interests. There’ll be travel involved from time to time, for I’d like Charlie to learn about the other Eastbourne holdings, not just this property.”
“Of course, all those towns. All those ships. But they’re yours.”
“The Eastbournes have business interests all over the world and I mean for Charlie to share in them.”
“Goodness,” Julia said quietly, “this is quite overwhelming.”
“I know, sweetheart. It’s a lot to take in and not only for Charlie. Think about yourself, Julia. What are your hopes and dreams? What do you wish for?”
She was too distressed to meet his gaze. “I don’t know. I want to be happy. I want to be loved. But I must think of Charlie and protect him especially now that his life is about to change.”
“So will yours. If you let it.”
She cast him a desperate glance. “I should go.”
“Not without an answer.” He leaned close, breathing in her sweet scent, his own heart aching with frustration. He wanted her to trust him. He simply wanted her. She looked beautiful and fragile as she gazed at him with those sparkling violet eyes that revealed her innermost desires. She wanted him. “Julia, close your eyes, let everything go and just feel. What does your heart want?”
As her eyes fluttered shut, she leaned into him. “It wants you.”
“And you?”
“I want you, too.”
Chapter 18
Julia strolled about the finely manicured Eastbourne gardens the following morning, her thoughts still in turmoil over what Lord Eastbourne had revealed last night. She ambled down the pebbled path, paying only glancing notice to the autumn blooms. The mix of reds and golds among the shades of green grass were little more than a pretty blur.
The sun shone brightly against a cloudless blue sky and she basked in the sun’s warming rays. She had invited Charlie to join her, but he was eager to use the new paints Lord Eastbourne had given him, and agreed to accompany her later this afternoon. As for Lord Eastbourne, he was working in his library, no doubt attending to estate matters before sitting with Charlie to tell him about his parents and his birthright.
They’d planned to tell him together within the hour.
Julia was hopeful and at the same time filled with dread, for she knew better than to think they’d bested the faerie king. Time was not on their side. King Cadeyrn did not intend to be put off again, which meant he would abduct Charlie soon. Would he try again through her?
The answer came with a jolt as she turned the corner. “No! Oh, no!” Sparing not a moment, she raced to the manor house. “My lord! Please, you must come at once!” she cried, bursting into the library.
Lord Eastbourne set aside his ledger and shot to his feet. “Julia, what’s happened? Is it Charlie? He’s upstairs with Homer, isn’t he?”
“I think so, I don’t know,” she said in a breathless rush, tugging on his arm.
She flew up the stairs, Lord Eastbourne at her heels, and hurried to the children’s quarters. Charlie’s room was by the staircase and his door was closed. She flung it open, dreading what she might find, and came to an abrupt halt.
“Lass, is somethin’ wrong?” Homer asked, his eyes rounding as though startled by her behavior. He was seated at Charlie’s small table enjoying tea and muffins while Charlie sat in his push chair beside an open window, paintbrush in hand, using the natural light to paint upon his canvas.
Julia could not have contrived a more idyllic scene.
Charlie turned toward her with the brightest smile. “Look, Julia. I’m painting a portrait of you. I’ve only just started it. Do you want to see?”
She knelt beside him, her heart beating madly as she held back tears of relief. “Yes, my little love. I do.”
Lord Eastbourne regarded her curiously.
She couldn’t tell him what she’d seen, not in front of Charlie.
He cast her a small nod, revealing he understood her concern and would wait until they were out of the boy’s earshot to find out what had alarmed her. That Homer and Charlie were at ease and enjoying the pleasant morning obviously heightened his confusion.
Julia turned to the window and peered out.
A light breeze carried the crisp scent of late autumn through the open window, ruffling her hair. She had it loosely clasped in a bun at t
he nape of her neck, secured by her butterfly pins. Stray wisps now fluttered across her cheeks, but she cared little about the sad state of her hair. Charlie was safe and that’s all that mattered.
“You burst in as though wild dogs were chasing you,” Charlie remarked, as she eyed the painting he had started. It looked to be a garden or woodland scene, though the sketch was still rough and she couldn’t make it out yet.
She gave his hand a little squeeze and smiled. His hand was warm and pink, no blue webs visible. “Lord Eastbourne and I had a race to see who could reach your room first,” she said in jest. “I won. We didn’t mean to startle you.”
He grinned at her, then at his uncle. “I think Uncle Douglas let you win because he likes you.”
Lord Eastbourne shook his head and laughed. “In truth, I do like Julia. But she won fair and square.”
“You’re an awfully good loser, Uncle Douglas.”
“I am when the winner is so pretty,” he replied, tossing Julia a wink that sent heat shooting into her cheeks. “We didn’t mean to disturb you, Charlie. We’ll visit you a little later.”
Charlie nodded and returned his attention to the painting he seemed eager to finish.
She and Lord Eastbourne left quietly.
He closed the door behind them, took her by the elbow, and led her a short distance down the hall before turning her to face him. “Julia, what scared you earlier?”
She shook her head and let out a dismal laugh. “Perhaps it’s nothing, I don’t know any more. I have to show it to you.”
She led him to the back garden and cut across the lawn. The grass felt damp beneath her feet for she was wearing the delicate lilac slippers he’d purchased for her in London, slippers to match the lilac of the new gown she was wearing. At this moment, she wished she had donned her sturdy boots, for these slippers were only suitable for treading upon finely polished floors.
“It’s the flowers,” she said, stopping beneath Charlie’s window and pointing to the rows of bluebells that had magically sprouted overnight and taken over the entire flower bed. “Look.”
Frowning, he stared up at Charlie’s window. “Do you think he knows?”
“I can no longer tell what goes through his mind and that concerns me. I don’t believe he’s forgotten King Cadeyrn, no matter what he claims.” She paused and let out a shaky breath. “I’m so frightened for Charlie. I think the Fae king is coming for him today.”
“I’ll order the entire flower bed uprooted,” he said with resolve.
“Do you think it will stop him?”
His frown deepened. “Probably not. Those damn flowers will pop back up the moment our backs are turned. Julia, I don’t know what will happen next, but Charlie must be told the truth about his birthright immediately. We planned to tell him this afternoon, but there’s no point in waiting any longer. He belongs here at Eastbourne. This is his home. The sooner he understands it, the sooner we’ll be rid of the malevolent faerie king.”
She nodded and hurried alongside him.
But as they walked back to the house, five carriages rattled up the drive. In the next moment, there was a buzz of activity as footmen rushed forward to attend to Lady Eastbourne and her newly arrived friends.
“Oh, hell.” Lord Eastbourne held Julia back in the hope they weren’t noticed, but it was too late.
“Eastbourne! There you are!” a well-dressed young man called out to him, hopping down from one of the carriages.
He cast Julia a pained glance. “It seems the world is plotting against us. Come on, you may as well meet our guests. St. Giles is already eyeing you with interest.”
Julia followed his lead, nodding and smiling as he introduced her to a dozen lords and ladies. She tried to make note of their names, but there were too many to remember. She did, however, remember the handsome Lord St. Giles and the remarkable beauty introduced as his sister, Lady Cynthia St. Giles.
To Julia’s dismay, Lord Eastbourne seemed to pay Lady Cynthia particular notice.
She knew that an eligible bachelor such as he would be a catch for any young woman, but hadn’t expected the young woman to appear at his doorstep just now or to be so strikingly pretty. Julia glanced down at her grass-stained slippers and the damp hem of her gown, comparing them poorly to the fur cloak, elegant sapphire gown and matching slippers worn by Lady Cynthia.
She wanted to dislike Lady Cynthia, but found that she couldn’t.
“What do you think of my sister?” Lord St. Giles asked.
Julia’s heart sank into her toes as she watched the young woman engage Lord Eastbourne in animated conversation. “She’s warm and charming.”
“Eastbourne obviously thinks so, too. They’ll make a good match, I should think.”
Julia nodded politely.
“Rumor has it he’s already bought the ring.” St. Giles leaned close and pointed to a purse-lipped, older woman just descending from the last carriage. “That’s the dowager countess. Eastbourne’s mother. She’s a dragon, that one. Better keep out of her way. She eats sweet young things like you for breakfast.”
He cast her a second glance and grinned. “But there’s a fire in your eyes. Perhaps you’re not as sweet as you look.”
She didn’t bother to reply, too busy studying Lady Eastbourne, the harridan who had scorned Charlie, damaged Julia’s reputation, and lied to her own son, cheating him for years without a moment’s remorse. She was tall and quite striking for one her age, and might have been considered a beauty in her early years. However, the fresh bloom of youth was long ago lost and her mouth seemed permanently fixed in a moue of distaste.
“So, you’re the nursemaid to that sickly boy,” she intoned when introduced, tipping her nose into the air.
“I’m cousin to that wonderful boy.” Julia clasped her hands together, struggling to subdue her disdain for the imperious woman. She thought it quite sad that Lady Eastbourne preferred to dwell in anger rather than appreciate the bounty she was given. “If you’ll excuse me, I was on my way to see Charlie when you arrived.”
“Why don’t we all go inside,” Lord Eastbourne said, offering Lady Cynthia his arm.
Julia nodded, eager to escape their elegant guests and find Charlie. She darted into the house in front of the others, aware she was breaking a dozen rules of etiquette and not caring in the least.
She’d only taken two steps in when she stopped and let out a small, strangled cry.
“Miss Marsden, is something wrong?” Lord St. Giles hurried to her side.
Indeed, very wrong!
Charlie, dressed in his London finery, the very clothes he’d squawked about wearing not a week ago, strode down the stairs, strode on his own legs as Homer followed in open-mouthed shock. Charlie paused on the bottom step and surveyed their guests, seeming completely unaffected by their presence. “Uncle Douglas, I didn’t realize we had company.”
“Charlie,” he said with an anguished groan, “what are you doing… on the stairs?”
“I thought I’d take a walk with Julia. She asked me earlier, but I was busy painting. I suppose we can put off the garden walk until later.”
Julia’s heart began to pound with enough force to rattle her bones and make a hole in her chest. Before her stood a strapping, healthy boy, not one with fragile limbs and a weak heart who could barely walk three steps before collapsing. She studied Charlie’s eyes and saw a coldness in their green depths that had not been there earlier.
As the boy gazed at her, she felt a chill run up her spine, the chill of eternal winter in his soul.
“I hope you had a pleasant journey, Grandmama,” the boy said, his icy gaze trained on the dowager.
“You must be the sick boy,” she replied, her expression as hard as the stone cliffs on Friar’s Crag. “You seem quite recovered now.”
Julia wondered whether the dowager, seeing a healthy boy standing before her, was charting a new course of attack. Or was she contemplating making an ally of the boy? If Lord Eastbourne was to be b
elieved, his mother had used anyone and everyone, even her own husband and children, to indulge her vices and further her own position in Society.
If Charlie were acknowledged as the rightful earl, she would, no doubt, abuse his generosity for her own deceitful purposes. “Come over here, child. Has anyone told you that you look just like your father?”
Charlie walked to his grandmother and offered his arm. “I’ve ordered refreshments brought into the parlor. Do you like sweet buns? With sugar melted on the tops? They’re my favorite.”
Julia gasped.
Charlie turned toward her, piercing her with his gaze. “Something wrong?”
Lord Eastbourne stepped between them, as though breaking a magical noose that had suddenly twisted about Julia’s neck.
The others followed after Charlie, obviously curious to learn more about him, for rumor of Charles Hawke having sired an illegitimate child had been around for years. As the others settled in, Julia slipped out of the parlor and stole upstairs, barely able to hold back her tears or keep her heart from shattering into a thousand pieces.
What had he been painting?
*
Julia gazed at the portrait staring back at her from Charlie’s easel and knew all was lost. He’d drawn her as a faerie dressed in a shimmering gown, her hair unbound and flowing down her back, as wild and untamed as the wind across the Irish Sea. She stood alone in a moonlit garden, moonbeams gleaming about her body while revelers danced in the distance beneath a string of golden lanterns.
“Not alone,” she murmured, noticing the shadow of a man standing behind her in the portrait. Was it King Cadeyrn?
She stared at the canvas for a long while, her sense of time and place quite muddled, for she was still staring at it when Charlie suddenly walked in. The odd sunlight cast shadows across the boy’s face, hardening his features.
“The boy’s a talented artist, don’t you think?” Charlie said, but the voice was King Cadeyrn’s and his eyes were the faerie king’s hollow eyes.
