by Darcy Burke
The vicar gestured toward the gravediggers. The two men came forward with their shovels and began to fill in the hole.
As the dirt hit the wood, the outside world around Calder disappeared. Now there was nothing but blackness and a stifling smell of cut wood and dank. A steady tap-tap sounded above him. It was like rain, but not. He reached out, and his hands struck wood right in front of him.
He was in the coffin.
He pounded on the wood, screaming, his hands becoming battered and bruised. He couldn’t be dead. Not now, not after what he’d just found…
The wood beneath him gave way, and he inexplicably fell. Into an abyss…
“Calder, wake up!”
He pushed forward again, expecting to find a barrier. There was nothing. He opened his eyes in panic to see where he’d fallen.
“Calder!”
A voice he knew. Her voice. He blinked and saw Felicity’s youthful, unlined face and her golden-blonde hair. Lifting his head, he looked around in confusion, then recognized the sitting room in her family’s cottage.
She was naked, as was he. Then he remembered. They’d been on the settee. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked.
“Yes, we dozed for a while. You started screaming, and then you fell to the floor.”
He’d fallen to the floor.
He dropped his head back onto the rug and stared up at the ceiling as he gulped deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. It had been a dream. He’d been dead and his family hadn’t seemed to care, though he supposed it was enough that they’d come to his grave. Even if they hadn’t shed a tear? They’d sounded relieved. And disappointed—he’d let them and the dukedom down.
Then there was Felicity. Happy with her large family, including her husband, who obviously adored her. Calder squeezed his eyes closed to banish the image from his mind, but feared it was emblazoned in his memory forever.
“We should get dressed,” Felicity said.
He opened his eyes to see her rising. She went about collecting their clothing and set the garments on the settee. Calder dressed quickly, which Felicity couldn’t possibly do. He itched to leave, to flee, but he forced himself to stay, to help her.
After he had her dress laced, he looked toward the door. “I need to go.”
“Yes, I must get home to my mother.” She sat down on the settee to don her boots. “Where do you need to be?”
Anywhere but here. He walked toward the door.
“Calder, did you hear me?”
He paused at the threshold. “Felicity, you must forget about me. You deserve a long and happy life.” The one he’d seen for her. The one he obviously couldn’t give her.
She stood, her brow furrowing with deep creases as she frowned. “I could never forget about you. Not if a thousand years passed.”
Her words flayed him. There was nothing he could do to change who he was, who he was destined to be. That dream had been the future, and their paths separated most severely. It was as it should be.
He gave her his most frigid stare. “I am not the man you think I am.”
“You’re the man I love,” she said simply, walking toward him.
Her declaration nearly drove him to his knees. Love was not an emotion he knew or understood outside of the context of loss. He’d loved his mother. He’d loved Felicity. He’d tried to love his sisters but, because of his father, had never felt they were his to love.
“I shouldn’t be, Felicity, and it’s time you understood that.”
She rushed forward and clasped his hand. “I love the man whose best friend is a dog, who helps a little girl in her time of need, who would hire an expensive architecture firm to repair an old, drafty manor house so it can become a school for impoverished children.”
Aside from Isis, none of that was really him. It was her influence. He pulled his hand from hers and drew himself up with forced contempt. “Ten years ago, I lost the only thing that mattered to me, then I spent the next few years losing everything else. When I couldn’t sink any lower, my father kicked me—he took away his support and told me to sort myself out. I was broke and alone. I took the only thing of value I had left—my mother’s jewels—and I sold them. From that, I have built everything that I am today. My father wasn’t good with money. If not for me, there actually wouldn’t be funds to support Hartwell House at all. There would barely be enough to pay Bianca’s settlement.” He’d never said those things to anyone, and now they flew from his mouth like caged birds free for the first time.
She gaped at him, her jaw open and her eyes round. “Calder, those days are behind you now. Your father isn’t here. He doesn’t matter.”
“He will always matter! We are the Dukes of Hartwell! Beholden to our legacy of stern leadership and rigid duty.” He’d never felt more encumbered. The boards of the coffin closed in around him.
Unable to bear the light of her presence another moment, Calder turned and stalked from the sitting room, pausing only to retrieve his greatcoat from the top of the stairs.
Outside, he paused, wondering how Felicity had gotten there and how she would return home. Though it wasn’t yet midafternoon, it was still bitterly cold, particularly with the wind. Then he saw the stable with its telltale curl of smoke coming from the chimney and her vehicle outside. The coachman and horse had to be inside, which meant Calder didn’t have to worry about her.
Not that he wouldn’t.
He would care about her, want her, love her for the rest of his days. Until he was cold in the ground in that unforgiving wooden box.
Felicity rushed downstairs and watched Calder hesitate outside. Had he changed his mind?
She ran to the door just as he strode to his horse. He mounted, and she called out his name. Either he didn’t hear her, or he was pretending not to, for he raced away.
Distraught, she turned and went back into the house. She trudged back upstairs to douse the fire in the sitting room, which she’d intended to do hours ago. Oh dear, what must the coachman think? She’d quite lost track of…everything the moment Calder had taken her into his arms.
Then they’d slept, their bodies entwined. She wasn’t sure she’d ever known such joy, such peace. When he’d awakened her screaming, the sound had driven terror deep into her heart.
His eyes had been wild, his heart beating frantically. She suspected he’d had a nightmare—what else could explain his behavior when she’d roused him from sleep?
And what had he dreamed that had scared him so terribly? That had driven him not just from the house, but from her, seemingly forever? He’d told her to forget about him. As she’d responded, she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t.
She wasn’t going to let him get away.
After taking care of the fire, she went to gather her cloak, hat, and gloves. Once she was bundled up, she went to the stable and notified the coachman she was ready to depart.
“I’ll just be a few minutes, ma’am,” he said.
“We aren’t going home. We’re going to Hartwood.”
He inclined his head. “Aye, Mrs. Garland.”
When they arrived at Hartwood, Felicity had a bad feeling he wasn’t there. She rapped on the door as nervous energy coursed through her.
The butler, Truro, answered, his eyes warming when he saw her. “What a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Garland. Happy Christmas.”
“Happy Christmas to you too. I’m here to see His Grace.”
A small pucker gathered between Truro’s sherry-colored eyes. “I’m afraid he isn’t at home. Would you care to see Lady Darlington or Lady Buckleigh?”
“Yes, please,” Felicity answered with far too much zeal.
Truro showed her to the drawing room, then took her cloak, hat, and gloves. She went to the fireplace to warm herself, but she was so anxious, she ended up pacing in front of the hearth.
“Felicity?” Bianca came into the drawing room with Poppy following behind her.
Felicity stopped and faced them. “I’m sorry to intrude on Christmas E
ve, but I’m concerned about Calder.”
“So are we,” Bianca said, frowning.
That only increased Felicity’s alarm. “What happened?”
“We were on the Yule log hunt,” Poppy said, her features creased with worry. “He shared some”—she glanced at her sister—“things.”
Felicity had been shocked he’d gone with them, but she was even more surprised that he’d shared anything with them. “What things?” She couldn’t help but wonder if they were related to his nightmare. Or the state in which he’d arrived at the house. He’d been disoriented, adrift, as if he were looking for something—or someone—to hang on to.
“About our father,” Poppy said. She moved closer to Bianca and took her hand. “He was quite awful to Calder. We never knew.”
Felicity could understand how they felt. When she’d learned her father had taken money from Calder’s father, she’d wondered if she’d ever known him at all. “He paid my father to take us and leave Hartwell so that Calder and I wouldn’t wed. He told Calder I’d greedily taken the money and gladly avoided marriage to him. Then he sent me a forged letter from Calder telling me we would never suit, that I wasn’t worthy of becoming his duchess.”
Both sisters’ eyes widened, and their clasped hands fell apart. Poppy lifted her hand to her mouth, while Bianca clenched her jaw.
“That’s why you left,” Bianca said with enough disdain to fill a moat. “If not for our father, you and Calder would have been married these past ten years.”
“Oh, Felicity, that’s just—” Poppy’s voice caught. She blinked several times before she could continue. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you, but it’s in the past, and we can’t change what happened. All we can do is help Calder be the man he wants to be, the man he is deep down, the man I fell in love with.” She looked at them both intently. “The man I still love.”
Bianca grinned. “I’m so glad to hear that. Also, I knew it.” She slid Poppy a triumphant glance.
Poppy looked as though she wanted to hug Felicity, but then her smile faded. “Why are you concerned about him?”
“He was with me—after your Yule log hunt, I would surmise.”
“He left rather abruptly,” Bianca said. “He seemed overwhelmed.”
“And not in a good way.” Poppy’s tone was dark. “How was he with you?”
“Upset, but then…better.” She tried to find a word that would accurately describe his mood without giving away too much. They didn’t need to know the specifics. “When he left, he was upset again—more so than when he’d arrived. He told me to forget about him.” It hurt to remember him saying it, but it was even more painful to repeat the words aloud to his sisters.
“Clearly, that’s not going to happen,” Bianca said briskly. “Where do we think he went?”
Felicity shook her head. “I can’t begin to imagine.” She would have thought the very house where they’d been, since she’d found him there the other day. Beyond that, she had no inkling where he might go. She considered the meadow where they’d had their picnic—yes, she’d look there.
“What about Papa’s folly?” Poppy asked, looking to Bianca. Then she flinched. “I can’t help feeling betrayed every time I think of him now,” she said with soft anguish.
Bianca nodded, her mouth tight. “When I consider all the time I nursed him when he was ill, all the things he said in disappointment about Calder, not one word of praise or love. I never stopped to ask why. I just accepted that Calder was cold and unfeeling. It didn’t occur to me to determine why he was that way.” Bianca’s voice broke. She pressed a finger to the corner of her eye. A tear fell anyway, and she wiped it away.
“None of us did, at least not enough to actually help him.” Poppy’s tone weighed heavy with regret. “We are as much to blame as our father.”
“So is Calder,” Felicity said. “He chooses to be this way because it’s easy and familiar. Even now he’s trying to please the man he could never satisfy. He says he does the things he does to make his father angry—and at some level, I’m sure he does. However, he’s still waiting for the approval that will never come.”
“That all makes such sense.” Poppy wrapped her arms around herself. “What can we do?”
Felicity looked from one sister to the other. “We have to find him.”
“You don’t think he’ll come back of his own accord?” Bianca asked.
“I don’t know. He was extremely troubled.” Felicity glanced out the window and saw the flutter of snowflakes drifting every now and again. “Unfortunately, I must return home to see to my mother.” Agatha was with her now, but it was Christmas Eve, and she needed to get home to her family.
“You should fetch her and come back,” Poppy said. “Gabriel will go with you and help you with whatever you need.”
“Are you sure it won’t be an inconvenience if we come?” Felicity wasn’t sure how she was going to describe all this to her mother. She hadn’t discussed Calder with her at all. A part of Felicity was still hurt because of the role her mother had played in keeping the truth from Felicity the past decade.
Bianca waved her hand. “Of course it’s not an inconvenience. This is where you belong, especially on Christmas. You’re family.” She smiled. “Or you will be as soon as you and Calder wed.”
Felicity wasn’t sure that would come to pass, not after what he’d said. But after everything else that had transpired since she’d returned, she’d never wanted anything more. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“We’ll start the search immediately.” Bianca moved toward her and took her hand. “We’ll find him.”
Poppy came and clasped Felicity’s other hand. “We aren’t going to lose him now, not when we’ve finally found him. He needs us, and we won’t let him down.”
Yes, he needed them, and Felicity would move heaven and earth to get to him.
Chapter 10
Felicity returned to Hartwood with her mother in a remarkably short amount of time. Retainers had already begun to look for Calder around the estate, and Ash and Bianca had gone to the folly that the former duke had built.
After settling her mother in with Poppy, whom Gabriel insisted remain at the house given her condition and the fact that it was now fully snowing, Felicity prepared to ride out with Gabriel. Isis whined from her spot in front of the hearth in the drawing room.
“Why isn’t she out looking?” Felicity asked, thinking that if anyone would find him, it would be his beloved dog.
“I’m not sure, but she can come with us.”
“She needs her coat.” Felicity went in search of Truro, who helped her prepare Isis for their excursion.
As they walked toward the stable, Felicity shared her only idea as to his location. “I want to look in a meadow. It’s northeast of here.” The ride was probably a mile and a half, just past that edge of the estate’s property.
“Lead the way,” Gabriel said.
They rode swiftly, with Isis easily keeping pace, and thankfully, the snow let up until they’d nearly reached the meadow. The grass was white, and it was coldly beautiful—so very different from the day she’d spent here with Calder.
Bringing his horse to a stop next to Felicity, Gabriel looked about. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Look.” Felicity pointed to Isis, who had paused with them and was now trotting toward a stand of trees. The trot became a run as she drew closer.
Felicity kicked her horse after the dog and heard Gabriel follow behind her. Calder’s horse stood grazing nearby, on a patch of grass beneath the trees that hadn’t been coated with snow.
Felicity searched for Isis and saw the greyhound’s tail sticking from behind a tree. Sliding down from her horse, Felicity ran to the dog. Propped against the tree was Calder, his eyes closed, his lips a terrifying gray.
“Calder, wake up!” Felicity knelt beside him and drew off her glove to touch his face. His cheek was like ice. “Calder!”
Isis nudged him a
nd then climbed onto his lap. She laid her head against his chest.
“She’s trying to warm him up,” Gabriel said. “We need to get him home.”
Felicity turned her head to look up at the marquess. “How do we do that?”
“We’ll get him onto my horse. I can ride back with him.”
Stroking Isis’s head, Felicity whispered, “We’ll take care of him.” She stood and faced Gabriel. “Let’s move quickly.”
He nodded, then went to fetch the horses. “Can you lead his horse?” he asked Felicity.
“Yes.” She tried not to let fear paralyze her. Calder had never needed her more.
It took a great deal of effort, but they got him on Gabriel’s horse, and Gabriel climbed on behind him. It was awkward, which made the return trip much slower than Felicity would have liked.
When they arrived at the house, Truro rushed outside to help Gabriel carry Calder inside. A groom came to care for the horses, and Felicity and Isis followed the men into the house.
Poppy stood inside the entry hall. “Where did you find him?”
“A meadow where we once had a picnic,” Felicity said. “I’m afraid he’s nearly frozen.”
“Should we send for Dr. Fisk?” Poppy asked.
“I hate to trouble him on Christmas Eve. I’m sure we can handle things.” Felicity sounded calmer than she felt. If Calder took ill, she wasn’t sure what she would do. No, she wasn’t sure what she would do if she lost him.
She hurried up the stairs and found her way to Calder’s bedchamber, where Truro and Gabriel had deposited him on the bed. Calder’s valet began undressing him under the watchful eyes of Isis, who sat beside her master. Her gaze held all the love and worry Felicity too possessed.
They got him tucked into the bed, and a pair of maids brought warming pans. A short time later, when Felicity felt his head, her worst fears were confirmed. He was no longer cold but burning hot with fever.
She exchanged a look with Isis. “We aren’t going to lose him. I promise.”
Isis ducked her head, laying it on Calder’s arm. If Calder died, it wouldn’t be because no one loved him.
