“There’s no proof. He said she fell.” Another surge of guilt welled in him. “I knew he beat her. I should have intervened.”
“You were a boy.”
“I was seventeen when she died.” Old enough to act.
“So when he married Cecelia, you hid her?”
William nodded. “I did.”
He leaned his head back on the pillow, closed his eyes. All of the memories he kept hidden, all spilled from him in so short a time. God help him, he was tired.
Lanora withdrew her hand. He realized he’d been holding it too tight. Her weight shifted. He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see her go, even though he hoped she would return. She was Lanora, Darington’s daughter. She would forgive all, understand, and love him. That was how it must be. Still, it hurt when she stood to leave.
The bed shifted. Warmth spread along his right side. Lanora took his arm, wrapping it about her shoulders as she snuggled against him. Her head settled on his chest. She put an arm about him, careful to avoid his stitches.
William kept his eyes closed, not wanting vision to ruin this dream. The honeysuckle scent of her enveloped him. He could almost believe they were in the country, far from London, at peace. That peace stole through him, easing muscles tensed by the anguish of the past. His arm about Lanora, William drifted to sleep, knowing this was how he wanted to spend every night, for the rest of his life.
Epilogue
“William, someone is here to see you.” Cecelia burst into his dressing room. William’s valet discreetly withdrew.
William, in the act of tying his cravat, glanced at her in the mirror. She looked lovely in her new dress, special for his wedding day. Lanora, who didn’t care for shopping, had been very patient in going with Cecelia to arrange for her first new wardrobe in years. They’d also taken his sister, Madelina, who would have her come out soon. Grace, however, was the only one of the four who had any notion of style. He was fortunate she regularly went along. All three women were very kind to William’s shy younger sister.
They stayed in his London townhouse. He’d given up Cecelia’s house, bringing both her and Madelina to his. He wasn’t sure what to do with the ancestral home. None of them cared to live with the memories there.
“Cecelia, you oughtn’t barge into a man’s room.” He untied the cravat and tossed it aside, displeased with the outcome. He reached for a freshly starched one. It must be perfect.
“I certainly can. For one thing, I’ve stitched you up often enough to have seen just about all of you.” She came forward, batting his hands away so she could tie his cravat. “For another, I am your mother.”
“And an adorable mother you are, for all you’re two years my junior, but the fact remains that a man’s quarters are sacrosanct.”
“Oh? So, when Lanora moves in this afternoon, she won’t be permitted in these rooms?” She tied the cravat with easy precision, then fluffed it.
William’s face split into a too-wide grin. He knew he looked like a besotted fool, there was a mirror before him to prove it, but he didn’t care. “Lanora will be permitted in any of my rooms she likes, and all the more reason for you to knock.”
Cecelia stepped back, looking him up and down. “Never fear, I shall. I may have seen nearly all of you, but I have no inclination to view the last bit.”
“You’re a scandalous creature, Cecelia Greydrake.”
“I’m a widow. I follow the papers. We are made to be scandalous. More importantly, someone is here to see you.” Her eyes were bright, joyful even for Cecelia.
“I’m not taking callers. We have to leave soon. Can’t whoever it is wait for a day when I’m not marrying?”
“Definitely not. Now, I’ve put him in the front parlor. Hurry along.” She made a shooing gesture.
William permitted himself to be driven from the room. Cecelia lingered behind as he descended the staircase. Obviously, he was meant to meet the gentleman alone. He strode into the parlor.
The man was well-garbed, nearly as tall as William. He appeared near his fortieth year, but no silver flecked jet black hair, unfashionably short. There was an ease to his stance, a power to his build that belied his apparent age. That vigor, that self-assurance…though William had never before met him in person, he knew the caller.
William came forward, offering his hand. “Who do I have the pleasure of addressing today, sir?”
The man’s handshake was firm. “Robert Hadler, Duke of Solworth.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, my lord.”
“You were expecting someone else on the day you’re to wed my daughter?”
“I was unsure. I thought I might be addressing Mr. Darington, renown explorer.”
Solworth grinned, his teeth white in a tanned face. “Unfortunately, Darington had to remain in Egypt. He never leaves there, poor fellow.”
“More’s the pity. I should like to thank him most warmly for being my confidant all these years.”
Solworth looked William up and down, assessing. “You’ve grown into a fine man, William. I know it’s not my place to say, but I’m proud of you.”
William squared his shoulders, startled by how much those words meant to him. “I do my best, my lord.”
“And far better than most men. Shame you and Lanora have so much work before you here. Could use a man like you in Egypt.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, my lord. Thank you.”
“Come along. Let the ladies take your carriage. I’ve brought mine. Let’s get you to my daughter.”
William followed Solworth out, a bit bemused. It was obvious the duke was accustomed to giving orders. William collected his hat and gloves. He cast a look about the foyer. When next he set foot in his home, of late filled with Cecelia’s laughter and Madelina’s soft voice, Lanora would be by his side. Then, his life would be perfect as he’d never thought to dream it could be. That happy thought in mind, he followed Lanora’s father out.
“When did you arrive?” William asked once they were seated in the carriage.
“Yesterday. I don’t mind saying, I was worried for a spell. We had rough seas for the crossing.” Solworth’s expression grew distant. “It’s been a long time since I laid eyes on England, or Lanora. She grew up.”
William wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he returned the conversation to the duke’s journey. The ride to the church wasn’t long. At first their conversation was stilted, but soon William and Solworth were conversing as old friends. William felt at ease with this man, the only person aside from Lanora who knew all his secrets. Only one point of contention stood between them, and it wasn’t the lie of Darington.
The carriage drew to a halt. “Ready?” Solworth asked.
“I have one question, my lord.”
Solworth raised his brows.
“Lanora wrote to you often, yet she rarely heard from you. She believed you didn’t read her letters, yet I know you did. You reported her every deed to me. Why not write your daughter? She missed you. She wanted to know her father.”
Solworth was silent. William began to feel he’d spoken out of turn. Certainly, it wasn’t a question for his wedding day.
“Because I wasn’t coming home, and I wasn’t bringing her to Egypt,” he finally said. “Each time I wrote, I only disappointed her.” Solworth shrugged. “You don’t know the pain of breaking your child’s heart.”
William did not, nor could he imagine the pain of breaking Lanora’s. It was one heartache he would never have to know, for he would never give her cause for anguish. “You’re right, I don’t know, nor quite understand.”
“It would have killed me to come home, but Egypt was no place for her. Someday, when you have a child, you’ll see that.”
William nodded. He wasn’t convinced, but sensed that was all the explanation he would have.
Solworth leaned forward. “Never hurt her, William.”
“I won’t, my lord.” It was a promise he could make with all sincerity.
Solworth
smiled. “I know. Now, shall we? You don’t want to be late.”
They left the carriage and strode up the steps. Entering the church, William heard his name whispered. He turned toward the sound. “Lanora?”
“I have to speak to you,” she whispered, hidden behind a screen in the vestibule.
William looked to Solworth, who shrugged. William strode over to the screen.
“You’ve met my father?” Lanora asked, her voice low.
“I have.”
“You like him?”
“Of course.” Was that her concern?
“Good. Could you send him into the chapel? I would like to speak with you in private.”
“Isn’t it ill luck?”
“William, that’s ridiculous. You can close your eyes if you like, but you and I are speaking.”
William shook his head. He crossed back to Solworth. “Don’t linger on my account, my lord. Lanora wishes a quick word.”
“Don’t be long,” Solworth said. He nodded to William, then toward the screen, and entered the chapel.
William returned to Lanora, skirting the screen. Taking his hand, she pulled him through a doorway and into a small room. Relinquishing her grip, she turned to face him.
Her gown was simple, for her beauty required no adornment. Her silken black hair was arranged to curl about her face, longer locks draped over her shoulder. Gems sparkled against the midnight hue, but none were as bright as her emerald eyes. She was nothing short of perfection.
“You wish to speak?” William clasped his hands behind his back to avoid reaching for her.
“There’s something I must tell you before we marry.”
He frowned. “You have a secret?”
“No, I doubt that. Only something I must say.”
His frown deepened. “Well?”
She took a step closer. Her hands came to rest on his coat front. He cursed the layers of fabric that muted her touch. “It’s only that, before we wed, I wanted to be sure to tell you…” She studied his face. “I love you, William Greydrake.”
A grin transformed his features.
“You have nothing to say to that?” she asked, surprised.
“What shall I say?”
“You could say it back, or seem relieved. You’ve told me you love me, more than once.” She looked bewildered. “If it were me, I’d be in fits. I’d be worried sick, not having heard those words from you. I mean, I’ve felt it for some time now, maybe even since my aunt introduced us, but every time you said it, I was always too surprised to hear it to say it back, and… Will you stop grinning?”
“Only if you stop rambling on in so adorable a manner.”
“You haven’t been the least bit worried I haven’t told you I love you?”
William shook his head. “Not the slightest.”
Lanora narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve always known you do.”
Her eyes flashed a bright green, nearly mesmerizing. “You were so sure, you didn’t need to hear me say it? So certain of your charm?”
“I was. I am.”
“You’re an insufferable rake.”
He couldn’t resist. He slid his arm around her, pulling her against him. “Yes, but I’m your insufferable rake.” He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.
It wouldn’t have stopped there, not this time, but someone cleared her throat.
“William,” Cecelia snapped.
Reluctantly, he lifted his head. A glance showed Cecelia, Grace and Lady Edith arrayed just inside the little room. It was a wonder they’d entered unnoticed, but he’d been quite distracted.
“William, I’m escorting you to the front of the church.” Cecelia’s tone was firm, but her eyes danced.
“And you are coming with us while we straighten your dress, young woman,” Lady Edith said.
Something barked. William blinked, realizing the Skye Terrier peeked out from behind Lady Edith’s billowing skirt.
“Shush,” she scolded the dog, her expression softening.
“Come along, Lanora,” Grace said. “I daresay there will be plenty of time for that later, once you’re properly wed.”
William looked down at Lanora, still in his arms. “Thank you.”
“For marrying you?”
“For loving me.”
“I do love you,” she said. “More than anything.”
“I love you too.” He kissed her again, finding her more than willing, deaf to the protests.
###
Have a peek at the next Regency Rendezvous Novel.
Having lost her husband in the Battle of Ligny, Lady Lydia Barrymore is determined to resume her work for the Foreign Office when her mourning period is over. She’s spent a year solving puzzles and assembling dissected maps to maintain her skills. Her first assignment has her perplexed, though: do what she must to help a fellow operative recover his sanity. Although she finds the man rather beautiful, Sir Donald has also proved most annoying.
Newly knighted Adonis Truscott returned from the Continent with a tendency to get lost in his thoughts. His frequent episodes of staring into space have his sister claiming he’s a candidate for Bedlam—and he’s not about to argue. He doesn’t always remember where or when he was when he recovers, but he remembers he made a promise, and he’s determined to keep it.
A promise to provide protection for Lydia, whether she wants it or not.
When a puzzle’s directions require Lydia to solve it with the help of Adonis, she discovers the man harbors secrets that may be impossible to reveal. With her own sanity in jeopardy—a year-long mystery involving her late husband may be more annoying and dangerous than an errant knight—Lydia will have to piece together a solution that suits them both in “The Enigma of a Widow”.
The Enigma of a Widow
Linda Rae Sande
Having lost her husband in the Battle of Ligny, Lady Lydia Barrymore is determined to resume her work for the Foreign Office when her mourning period is over. She’s spent a year solving puzzles and assembling dissected maps to maintain her skills. Her first assignment has her perplexed, though: do what she must to help a fellow operative recover his sanity. Although she finds the man rather beautiful, Sir Donald has also proved most annoying.
Newly knighted Adonis Truscott returned from the Continent with a tendency to get lost in his thoughts. His frequent episodes of staring into space have his sister claiming he’s a candidate for Bedlam—and he’s not about to argue. He doesn’t always remember where or when he was when he recovers, but he remembers he made a promise, and he’s determined to keep it.
A promise to provide protection for Lydia, whether she wants it or not.
When a puzzle’s directions require Lydia to solve it with the help of Adonis, she discovers the man harbors secrets that may be impossible to reveal. With her own sanity in jeopardy—a year-long mystery involving her late husband may be more annoying and dangerous than an errant knight—Lydia will have to piece together a solution that suits them both in “The Enigma of a Widow”.
Chapter One
Prologue
May 11, 1816 (The Year of No Summer)
A snowflake danced about in the chill, its twisted path to the ground made so by the man who blew air between his lips each time it seemed determined to continue its descent. With the man’s next breath, the crystalline structure twirled about and then suddenly disappeared.
The man frowned and stared at where the snowflake should have been. He continued staring until the shout of a nearby costermonger had him giving a start. His cane, a silver-topped length of mahogany polished to a high shine, nearly fell from his right hand before he steadied it with the other.
Dammit.
Adonis Truscott took a steadying breath and grimaced when another snowflake passed in front of his face, its path downward nearly straight. Glancing about, as if to ascertain his whereabouts, he wondered at how long he had allowed the falling snow to capture his attention. How long he h
ad stared at the space where the snowflake had disappeared. How long he had stood on the pavement next to the haberdashery in Old Bond Street.
In the effort to view his chronometer, he found his gloved hands so stiff, they could barely grasp the metallic disk, let alone press the button that would open the lid.
“You won’t find a hackney this time of the day,” a male voice said from behind him.
Turning to discover the owner of the voice, Adonis regarded the rather tall man and gave a nod. “No, I don’t suppose so,” he agreed with a sigh, realizing he was speaking to the owner of the haberdashery. He had been in the shop earlier to purchase the red woolen scarf that was now wrapped around his neck and dusted with snowflakes. At that moment, he couldn’t recall how he had made his way to Old Bond Street. He thought he had ridden his horse, but it was possible he had arrived in a hackney. Or perhaps a town coach.
“Come back into the shop. You must be freezing.”
Adonis nodded. “Just for a moment,” he agreed as he turned to follow the proprietor. He was nearly through the green gloss painted door when a female voice called out.
“Donald!”
Stiffening where he stood, Adonis suddenly remembered exactly how he had arrived in Old Bond Street. “Seems my ride has remembered where she left me,” he said to the shop owner. He gave the man a short bow and leaned on his cane as he turned and directed his attention to the town coach that was now parked in front of the haberdashery. The matched greys in front of the equipage snorted clouds of white as they stomped their impatience. Given the chill in the air, Adonis found he couldn’t blame them.
Despite how his leg protested climbing into the town coach, Adonis was able to negotiate the high step and take a seat in the stiff squabs. Although several hot coals glowed in a brazier between the seats, the inside of the coach wasn’t much warmer than outside—, that is, until the driver could get the door shut.
“Where have you been?” Persephone Craven demanded from beneath the quilt that covered most of her body. “Mr. James has driven in circles for nearly an hour.”
Adonis allowed an expression of apology. “I was in the haberdashery.” He indicated the new scarf. “Took Mr. Turner quite some time to find this in the back. Seems he put away all the winter clothing a few months ago thinking it wouldn’t be needed until next winter.”
The Archaeologist's Daughter (Regency Rendezvous Book 3) Page 17
