Summer's Distant Heart (Seasons Book 3)

by Laura Landon

  And she couldn’t think of any way they could eliminate his father and live with themselves after it was over.

  . . . .

  Hunter healed slowly. His entire body ached for days as he fought to conquer the pain caused by the lead ball that had penetrated to a dangerous depth.

  He was actually grateful that Miles stayed around. He took over when Hunter couldn’t even manage to get out of bed. He watched the babe and made Lia rest when she stayed up night and day keeping watch over the babe, calming Frannie, and caring for the Earl of Atherton.

  Disjointed thoughts of having children with Lia peppered his drug-laced dreams. He wondered what it would be like to have a child with her. He wondered what it would be like to have a family filling the halls of Rainwood Place. A need deep inside him ached to find that out, ached to have children of his own. With her.

  “Are you awake?” she asked entering the room. She carried a tray laden enticingly with small meat and cheese sandwiches.

  “Yes, I’m awake. And starving.”

  “Then you will love what I’ve brought with me.”

  She set the tray down beside him on the bed, then poured him a glass of water.

  “I think I would like something stronger than water. Ale, perhaps?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Or maybe a glass of brandy.”

  She smiled and poured him a glass of brandy from a decanter he kept on the highboy.

  Hunter took a sip, then leaned against the headboard and sighed with pleasure. “Oh, Lia. That tasted good.” He reached for one of the sandwiches and devoured it in two bites. “And so does this. I can’t believe how hungry I am.”

  “You’re getting better, Hunt. Much better.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Hunter finished the plate of sandwiches, then drank the brandy. When he finished the first glass, she filled it partially for a second time.

  “Do you feel up to talking about your father?”

  Hunter paused. He had known this day would come. He had known the time would come when they would have to discuss how to handle his father. He was surprised his father had waited this long before sending more men to finish what the last ones had failed at.

  “We can’t put it off any longer, can we?”

  She shook her head.

  “Would you call Miles? I want to get his input on the matter.”

  She nodded again and rose to her feet. She left the room for a few minutes and came back with her brother in tow.

  “How are you doing today?” Miles asked brightly when he’d closed the door behind him. “You certainly look greatly improved from when we brought you back.”

  “I am, thanks to you and Lia.”

  “Lia deserves the credit. She’s the one who refused to let you give up. I just sat in the study and drank your expensive brandy.”

  Hunter smiled. He doubted that was true, but he appreciated Miles’ attempt at humor.

  Lia moved to sit on the bed, leaving the chair free for her brother.

  “Do you have any ideas how to handle my father?” Hunter asked.

  Miles took a moment to settle into the chair. “Do you want my honest advice or a piece of advice that will be pleasing to your ears?”

  “Let’s start out with your honest advice. If I cannot accept that, we’ll go to what will be pleasing.”

  “Very well,” Miles said, stretching his legs lazily in front of him. “He could die.”

  Lia’s hand flew to her throat.

  “When you said honest advice what you really meant was honest and blunt advice.”

  “You already knew this wasn’t going to be easy,” Miles continued. “You already knew there wasn’t going to be a different outcome. The man tried to kill his own son. And his grandson, the heir to his name. The law would sentence him to the gallows. Besides, what makes you think he won’t try to kill again?”

  Hunter grabbed the bedclothes in his fists and wadded them into a tight ball.

  “Bloody hell, Miles! I can’t just walk up to him and put a lead ball in his brain.”

  “No, you can’t. No man could do that to his own father. I would not have expected you to see that as a solution.”

  “So you were just checking, eh?”

  “I thought it prudent,” Miles chuckled. “But I believe Lia might have a suggestion she thinks you’ll like.”

  Hunter looked at Lia. She was still recovering her composure after hearing the men speak of cold-blooded murder.

  “Lia?”

  “I have an idea, but I would like to hear what Aunt Mildred thinks of it first.”

  Hunter looked at Miles and Lia’s brother nodded. “Very well. Miles, would you help me dress, then take me down to the study. We’ll meet you there in half an hour, Lia.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Just throw on a robe. We’ll expect you in five minutes.” She swept off the bed and made her exit.

  Hunter considered disregarding her and getting fully dressed. But the mere effort of climbing out of bed changed his mind. “Just give me my trousers, then.”

  He grunted his way into his trousers and robe, then asked, “What do you think she has in mind?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea, but I hope it’s something we can carry off.”

  “So do I,” Hunter said, then turned to leave his room for the first time since a gunshot paid for by his father had laid him low.

  . . . .

  Lia watched Hunter enter the study. He leaned heavily on Miles’ arm and Lia knew he was in a great deal of pain.

  Hunter reached for her hand and Lia eagerly grasped his.

  “You cannot kill your father, Hunt. If you do, you won’t be able to live with yourself.”

  “I know that,” Hunt answered squeezing her hand in reply. “I trust you believe that I could never have considered it. But I am curious what you have in mind?”

  “I suggest a death of sorts. But not a mortality. Merely a death of standing, a mortal blow to your father’s reputation.” She smiled, and Hunter felt the weight of the world begin to lighten with it. “I suggest we take the babe and Aunt Mildred and go to London.”

  “What good will that do?”

  “Aunt Mildred?” Lia smiled. “Tell them our idea.”

  Aunt Mildred chuckled and held up her elegant, ringed hand. “It’s really quite simple, you see. My oldest son is Viscount Collinson. It’s well known that he has the ear of Queen Victoria.”

  The men nodded their agreement.

  “Then, my brother-in-law is the Duke of Natchess, who controls grain prices in southern markets.” As she spoke, she ticked off a finger with the mention of each new influential name. “And, one of my sons-in-law is the Duke of Palmery, whose subsidiary manages shipping permits for the government. Another is the Earl of Wentbury. He’s not particularly influential, but he has most folks fooled in that regard. Some think that no matter of business takes place without Wentbury’s approval.”

  “I’m impressed, my lady,” Miles said with a growing smile. “I’d forgotten you were so well connected.”

  “Don’t ever forget it, nephew. There is hope yet for advancement in your future.”

  Miles laughed. “Yes, my dearest aunt.”

  Their laughter broke the tension in the room.

  “The purpose of calling upon this long list of nobility is to impress and, shall we say, potentially hobble your father,” Aunt Mildred said looking at Hunter.

  “I’m sure it will do exactly that,” Hunter said. He looked at Lia and smiled.

  “Once we reach London,” Lia said, “Aunt Mildred has offered to host a dinner party. The guest list will be small, but impressive, and will include your father, Hunt.

  “What will be the purpose of this dinner?” Hunt asked.

  “To introduce the beau monde to the current Earl of Atherton, and the future Marquess of Trentridge.”

  “We’re going to take George with us?”

  “Yes.”

  �
��What good will that do?” Miles asked.

  “You’ll see,” Lia answered. “You’ll see.”

  “I already see,” Hunter said with a smile on his face. “And it’s brilliant, Lia. Positively brilliant.”

  Chapter 12

  Two weeks later, Lia sat at Hunter’s side as they waited in a secluded gathering room at the dowager Viscountess Collinson’s London town house. Even her worry about what was ahead had not spoiled the perfection of each day spent with Hunter Montclaire in her aunt’s gracious home.

  Whether it was she who softened toward him, or he who shed his cautious attitude toward her, she could not say. Perhaps both. Happily, the air between them had warmed in a way that caused them to seek it out every moment they could. They seemed to thrive within it, bask in the comfort of it, treasure the gift of it.

  They would face their futures in the dowager viscountess’s drawing room before the night was over. And this night would either be the best or the worst night of their lives.

  Of course, Aunt Mildred’s brother- and sister-in-law, the Duke and Duchess of Natchess would be there, as well as her two daughters and their husbands, the Duke and Duchess of Palmery, and the Earl and Countess of Wentbury.

  To make the dinner party an even dozen, Aunt Mildred had also invited one of the Queen’s most relied upon advisors, Sir Henry Panden and his wife, and another very influential member of the house, Lord Franston and his wife, Lady Franston.

  Then, of course, there would be Hunt’s father, the Marquess of Trentridge. His acceptance of the invitation made it clear that if he was aware of the dowager viscountess’s network of influence, he had seen no reason to be suspect of it.

  As agreed, Hunter, Lia, Miles, and baby George remained secluded while the group gathered. Several servants brought dinner to them, but none of them were overly hungry and much of the food went untouched.

  Hunter stayed close to Lia, grateful for every opportunity to graze her hand or brush her shoulder, anything to remind her that he was near. Each time he was rewarded with a small smile.

  Lia stepped close. “Gracious, I’m a nervous Nellie tonight.”

  Hunter noted her small shiver with a compassionate look.

  “Your plan is brilliant. I know my father will see the only course open to him, which is retreat, if not abject banishment from Society and destruction of his business empire.”

  “You’re certain of that?” Lia reached a hand to his chest, her eyes showing how clearly she understood the impropriety of her action. But he needed to touch her as badly as she needed him, and he covered her soft hand with his own, pinning it near his heart.

  “What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Miles asked.

  “Nothing important,” Hunter replied. “The conversation at gatherings such as this requires more diplomacy than it does intellect. Women, you know, are not prepared to engage in conversation that requires forethought or intelligence.” He winked at his own sweeping statement and dodged the playful swipe of Lia’s hand.

  Miles howled. “Pish-tosh. It’s a good thing they’re not sitting around our dinner table then, isn’t it Lia?” he said with a smile.

  Lia looked at Hunter and raised her eyebrows. “In our home it was required that we engage in thoughtful conversation, with facts and opinions to back up any comments we made.”

  “Members of the ton would definitely be out of place in your abode,” Hunter said on a laugh.

  They stopped talking when a soft knock sounded at the door. A moment later, Hobson appeared in the doorway.

  “Her ladyship says to inform you that the meal has concluded and the ladies are going to the drawing room while the men have their port. I will return again when you are to join them.”

  “Thank you, Hobson,” Lia said, then watched the butler leave. She breathed in a heavy sigh, then turned to her brother. “Would you go through to the study and make sure Frannie has George ready, Miles?”

  Miles nodded, then went to the next room where Frannie had been caring for George.

  Hunter rose from his chair and walked to the far side of the well-appointed room. He moved past her aunt’s priceless collection of clocks, seemingly unaware of their ominous ticking. From the rigid set of his shoulders and his clenched hands that hung stiffly at his sides, it was obvious that he was as nervous as she was about this evening.

  But he shouldn’t be. In the intervening days she had watched him carefully, listened to the beat of his words, experienced the strength of his touch. Each look from him had drawn her closer. Each touch had lifted her further out of fear and into reassurance.

  Lia rose from her chair and went softly across the room. When she reached Hunter, he draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. She rested her head on his shoulder.

  “I love you, Hunt,” she whispered as she looked up at him.

  He cast his eyes downward, then lowered his head and kissed her. “And, I love you.” He kissed her again and she returned his kiss. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  “Yes, you did, but as I told you the first time, flattery will get you…,” she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, “…anything you want.”

  His smile proved to her that hearts could actually melt. Her heart shifted in her breast as he gave a lazy wink. It wrenched from her a silent prayer that this night would go well. For his sake as well as the babe’s. Their futures depended on it.

  “And have I told you how very special you are?”

  “Yes, but I never tire of hearing it. There’s nothing I want more than to be someone you know you can trust and rely on.”

  “Stay by my side, Lia. Tonight and always.”

  Lia looked him fully in the face, and found his sincerity untangling a knot that had bound up her heart for years.

  He leaned down and kissed her again, then they broke apart when another knock sounded at the door.

  “Lady Collinson is ready for you to join them in the drawing room.”

  “Thank you, Hobson.”

  As if he’d heard the butler, Miles brought Frannie and the babe to join them. Little George was asleep in Frannie’s arms.

  Hunter held out his arm for Lia to take and together they walked down the short hallway. Miles and Frannie followed.

  When they reached the drawing room, Hobson stepped inside and announced them.

  “Lord Hunter Montclaire and Miss Amelia Halloway.”

  There were several small gasps, then everyone turned to look at them. Aunt Mildred stepped over to them. “I’m not sure you know everyone,” she said to them, “so let me introduce you.”

  Aunt Mildred did the honors and introduced Hunt and Lia to everyone in the room. Even the Marquess of Trentridge. His eyebrows shot upward when Lia was introduced to him. His face reddened at mention of the Halloway name and his lips clamped tight.

  “I have formed this gathering tonight for the express purpose of introducing you to my niece, Amelia. She is the daughter of my oldest brother, Charles.”

  Everyone was too polite to show anything but kindness or deference to Lady Collinson, and hence to Lia.

  “And of course you all know Lord Hunter Montclaire, Earl of Atherton and son of the Marquess of Trentridge.”

  Everyone uttered their assent. Yes, they all knew Lord Trentridge’s son.

  “Lord Montclaire has something he would like to tell everyone here. Or would you like to do the honors, Amelia?”

  “No, Aunt Mildred. This is Lord Montclaire’s news to share.”

  “Very well, then. Hunter?” Aunt Mildred gave Hunter the floor.

  “Thank you, Lady Collinson.” Hunter took a step forward. “And thank all of you for allowing us to interrupt your gathering. Please sit, if you care to.”

  Anyone who had been standing and wanted to sit did so while two footmen walked about the room refilling glasses. As they finished, Hunter began to speak.

  Lia watched Hunter face the gathering, squaring his shoulders and lifting his
chin—not in superiority, but in determination. Pride welled in Lia from a place that had seemed so bruised of late, and it was so very welcome. This good man had been sorely abused by his father. But now he faced the man without a trace of vengeance. Without a trace of hate.

  “I know many of you believed that upon the death of my brother, I assumed his title as Earl of Atherton, but that is not so. You see, my brother Evan married before he died.”

  “What?” In a corner of the room, Hunter’s father bolted to his feet. His voice was tight, blistering with surprise and laced with shock.

  “Yes, Father. One year ago Evan married Miss Janice Halloway, the dowager Viscountess Collinson’s niece. Miss Amelia Halloway’s sister. I have their signed marriage license with me as proof.” He waved the parchment before tossing it onto the sideboard.

  “Liar,” Trentridge muttered. “Your brother was not married before he died.”

  “Oh, but he was, Father. And from that union was born a son. The new Earl of Atherton. The future Marquess of Trentridge.”

  “Stop your blaspheming prattle!” The Marquess of Trentridge lurched toward Hunter, looking as if he intended to do him harm. But Viscount Collinson, the Duke of Palmery, and the Earl of Wentbury stepped together in a united front to stop him.

  “What sort of lie is this?” he growled as he struggled to get past. “Another of your childish deceits?” Trentridge scoffed. “You and the truth never did see eye to eye!”

  There was a loud murmur of confusion as the members of Society whispered to each other.

  “It’s no lie, Father. And though you wish it would be, you know it’s not.”

  “Lying devil.” Trentridge seethed. “I have no grandson.”

  “You do, my lord. And nothing would please me more than to introduce you to the woman Evan loved more than life itself. But I cannot. She perished bringing your grandson into the world.” Several women uttered a startled gasp, giving Hunter a moment to slow his breathing. “But their son survived. Would you like to see him?”

  “Conjure what you may, boy, I’ll have none of it.”