by Cheryl Holt
The driveway meandered up to the mansion, and orchards lined the route, the trees laden with ripening fruit. Horses grazed in the pastures, cattle too. Every inch gleamed as if it had been polished just to please him. The colors were so bright and shimmering so brilliantly that his head ached.
For a family planning a wedding, the property was awfully quiet. No servants rushed in and out. No footmen waited at attention, eager to spring into action the instant a guest appeared.
But then, Miss Drummond had mentioned that he was the first cousin to arrive. Well, he might be the first, but he would definitely stir the most turmoil. No one was expecting him. No one knew he was back in England. No one knew anything at all.
The notion of creating a huge fuss at the front door was too exhausting, so he skirted around the mansion to a rear entrance. His Aunt Edwina was a hard taskmaster, so she had trouble keeping staff, but hopefully, there would be a retainer who would recognize him and lead him to his bedchamber without any trumpets blaring.
He wanted to bathe and eat, then sleep for a hundred years. Not necessarily in that order. What he didn’t want was to chat or socialize or have to explain his return.
He tramped down the steps to the servant’s hall when the butler, Mr. Dobbs, strolled toward him. He was short and trim, a clean-shaven, dapper fellow, aged fifty, who acted appropriately in every situation.
Nathan had been dragged—kicking and screaming—to Selby when he was six, and he’d been a frightened and very angry orphan. Dobbs had watched over him as best he could.
His grandfather, Godwin, had guaranteed Nathan’s existence was hideous, and his Aunt Edwina had piled on a heavy dose of misery. Despair had been his constant companion and Dobbs his only friend.
“May I help you, sir?” Dobbs asked.
Nathan spun slowly, liking how the man blanched. “Hello, Dobbs.”
“Master Nathan…?” he stammered, using the mode of address he’d employed when Nathan was a child. He quickly regrouped. “Ah…ah…I mean Lord Selby? Is it really you?”
“Yes, it’s really me.”
“And without a word to any of us! Isn’t that typical of you?”
Nathan had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry.”
“Come with me. Immediately! Let’s get you into a chair, and don’t argue about it.”
Nathan didn’t feel especially hale, but in his mind, he’d pictured himself as being sufficiently spry to make a good impression. Clearly, his view was skewed. Miss Drummond had noted his reduced condition, and evidently, Dobbs had too.
“What happened to you, my lord?” Dobbs asked. “My gracious sakes! Your trip must have been fraught with difficulty. Don’t you dare fall down in this hallway!”
“I realize it’s the middle of the afternoon, Dobbs, but could I bother you for some breakfast?”
“Absolutely!”
Dobbs started whispering commands that had the staff scurrying. Nathan observed with an odd detachment, letting himself be carried away on a wave of their potent hovering. When he was off exploring in the wilds of Africa, he always forgot this part of how he was treated at Selby.
It was lovely to be fawned over as if he were a king.
He was ushered up the stairs to the small dining room and pushed into his seat. A dozen people raced about, pouring him tea, setting out plates and cups. Breakfast appeared like magic, eggs and ham and bacon and scones and muffins—enough to feed an army, but it was all for him and him alone.
Dobbs shooed everyone out, and the place quieted. As the servants dashed away, they cast curious glances at Nathan. All of them had heard who he was, but it had been years since he’d been at Selby. He was a ghastly sight, and they had to feel as if they were staring at a ghost.
“Have you brought any luggage?” Dobbs asked.
“No.”
“For shame—a man of your station traveling like a pauper. What am I to make of it?”
“I was in a hurry to get here.”
“That is no excuse for lazy habits.”
Nathan chuckled, finding comfort in Dobb’s chastisement. “Don’t scold me, Dobbs. In my reduced state, I’m too weary to abide it.”
“It’s a massive effort to keep you in line. You’ve never known how to behave.”
“I left my horse out in the drive. I was too tired to tend it myself. Can you have someone see to it?”
“I will at once.”
“Is my aunt at home?”
“Yes. I’m surprised she hasn’t already arrived to speak with you.”
“I’m told we’re having a wedding.”
“Yes. Master Percy has finally found himself a bride.”
“Now that I’m back, I don’t suppose there’s any way to reschedule or cancel it?”
“No, my lord. Too many invitations have been delivered. You will simply have to grin and bear it.”
Footsteps echoed in the hall as Edwina marched toward them.
Dobbs frowned. “Shall I stay and act as your buffer?”
“I think I’m old enough to handle her on my own these days.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Nathan had had a hard, cruel life at Selby, and Dobbs had saved him on more than one occasion.
He’d hidden Nathan from his aunt, had lied to her, had taken the blame for Nathan’s mischief. Dobbs had understood how vicious his grandfather and aunt could be, and he’d implemented what modest strides at intervention he could. It was their special secret.
Dobbs glared ferociously, his displeasure clear, then he stomped out the rear door just as Edwina stomped in the front.
“Why are you here, Nephew?”
“It’s nice to see you again too, Aunt Edwina.”
“No letter for years. No messages. No notice. You simply show up. Why must you ceaselessly conduct yourself as if you were raised by wolves in the forest?”
“As you’re fully aware,” he facetiously said, “I do it to vex you as much as possible.”
“I’m certain that’s true.”
She walked over and plopped down, and he didn’t stand as he ought, but remained slouched in his chair—for two reasons. He was too fatigued to exhibit the proper courtesies, but also because he enjoyed antagonizing her.
They didn’t get on and never had. It was the major tenet of their relationship, established from the moment his parents had died and she’d brought him to live with his grandfather at Selby.
He disliked her with a keen, burning passion that had never waned. He couldn’t figure out why his loathing had sizzled so hotly for such a lengthy period. He was thirty now, and he ought to stop pitching fits like a juvenile brat, but whenever he looked at her, he bristled with aversion.
He was an only child, the desperately longed-for male heir, and in a normal family, his exalted position would have garnered him affection and respect. Yet not in the Blake family.
Edwina had been a vicious sort of stepmother, and he’d like to send her packing. He’d like to send her two sons, his cousins Percy and Trevor, packing too. He didn’t mind Trevor, who was like a happy puppy, but Percy was horrid and vain and possessed of his mother’s same sense of entitlement.
Edwina wasn’t a Blake, but had been wed to Nathan’s uncle, his father’s brother. He’d foolishly killed himself when he’d fallen off a horse during a drunken race he shouldn’t have entered. Edwina had never forgiven him, which was at the root of her bitterness. But her ire was also fueled by the fact that, after he’d perished, she’d been forced to stay at Selby and dance attendance on Godwin.
Godwin had been a pious, nasty blowhard, who’d constantly belittled her, but she’d had no money and nowhere else to go, and eventually, she’d wound up nursing the ungrateful fiend through his final, protracted illness. It was another fact that had left her bitter. She’d given everything she had to the Blake men, but in return, they’d given her derision and wretchedness.
Nathan permitted her and her two sons to tarry at Selby beca
use it was easier than fighting to kick them out. He was never in residence anyway, so why create a big fuss? She ran the place for him when he was away on his adventures. Someone had to do it, and she liked being in charge. Why not let her be?
“I heard Percy’s getting married,” he said.
“Yes. The ceremony is two weeks from today. Now that you’re home, I’ll expect you to stand with him at the altar.”
“We should probably seek his opinion, don’t you think?”
“You’re earl, so it’s the appropriate conclusion.”
“If I’m his only choice, he must not have any friends. Why hasn’t he asked Trevor? They’re brothers after all.”
“Trevor was to be the best man, but he will relinquish his role to you.”
“You’re always convinced your sons will obey you. How old are they?”
“Percy is twenty-six and Trevor is twenty-four—as you would recall if you ever spent a single second pondering your family.”
“Twenty-six and twenty-four…” he mused. “Can you imagine them ever growing spines and making their own decisions? Or will you keep them tied to your apron strings forever?”
“They’re dutiful children.” She sniffed with offense. “They listen to their mother and do as I bid them.”
Nathan scoffed at that, but let the matter drop. Trevor was obliging and courteous and might ultimately amount to something, but Percy was a gambler and rutting dog. Nathan wondered if any of those rumors had ever reached Edwina, and if they had, how she’d dealt with them. Where her boys were concerned, she wore blinders.
“Who’s the lucky bride?” he inquired. “Miss Middleton, is it?”
“Yes. Miss Susan Middleton.”
“There’s been gossip that her father is atrociously rich.”
“You mention it as if affluence is a crime, and Percy doesn’t have any money of his own. Don’t judge him.”
“How did Mr. Middleton accumulate his fortune?”
Her cheeks heated, so he’d managed to hit a sore spot.
“He’s…ah…in trade,” she said.
“Of course he is—if he’s very rich. What type of trade?”
“If you must know, he’s a brewer.” She practically spat the word brewer, her pompous superiority surging to the fore.
“That must have been a hard nut for you to swallow, marrying off your splendid boy to such a common girl.”
“Susan is very sweet,” she hurried to insist, “and I’m sure they’ll be very happy.”
“I’m sure they will be too,” he sarcastically agreed, not sincere in the least.
Poor Susan Middleton. Had her father ever met Percy? If so, he must have been deranged to have betrothed his daughter.
“What bait was used to persuade her parents to shackle her to Percy?” he asked.
“We didn’t toss out any bait. Her mother approached me.”
“If Miss Middleton has a huge dowry, why didn’t they snag a duke or an earl for her?”
“They tried, but they had no takers. It’s a lean year for aristocratic bachelors.”
“What a pity for all the heiresses. How is a wealthy debutante supposed to latch onto a nobleman when there are none available?”
“Susan is connecting herself to the Selby earldom, and she realizes it’s a marvelous advantage.”
“Oh, yes, it’s an incredible benefit.” He, himself, had never been especially impressed by Selby or his link to it. “Who is Miss Drummond?”
“Miss Drummond?” Edwina scowled. “You must be referring to the Middletons’ ward.”
“Yes, that’s her.”
“As far as I’m aware, she’s no one at all.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning she has no money, ancestry, or prospects.”
“Now, now, don’t be a snob. Not everyone can be as grand as we are.” He was mocking her, but she didn’t notice.
“Why ask about her?”
“I met her out on the lane as I was riding in.”
“I believe she was planning to decorate the gate.”
“I liked her.”
“You would.” Edwina stood suddenly, their conversation over. “Why are you home? You haven’t told me.”
“Must there be a reason?”
“You hate it here, so calamity must have forced you back. Was there a scandal on your expedition? Are you ill? Are you dying?”
“You wish.” He snorted with derision.
There was no love lost between them, and they never pretended affection or even cordiality. It was impossible to please her, impossible to calm her temper or tamp down her nastiness, and he’d given up trying.
“Don’t be smart, Nathan, and don’t waste my time. Why are you here?”
“I’m exhausted, and I thought a sojourn in merry old England might invigorate me.”
“How long are you staying?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Weeks? Months? Years?”
“I haven’t decided,” he repeated more sharply. “Don’t badger me. I just walked in the door.”
“If you intend to tarry, I demand you play the part you were born to play. You will not embarrass me with any of your usual antics.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Nor will I permit you to ruin Percy’s big day.”
“I’ll exhibit stellar behavior in every situation,” he glibly said. “I swear.”
“Fine. I’d just as soon not be at loggerheads with you for your entire visit.”
He didn’t react to her assumption that he was visiting. He never dawdled at Selby if he could help it, so in the past, she’d have been correct in thinking he’d flitted in for a quick respite and would flit out again at the earliest opportunity.
But he was weary, his vigor greatly diminished, his stamina crushed, his mood at its lowest ebb.
“Will Sebastian and his father be calling on us?” she asked. “Will I be required to host them? You can’t expect me to. Not with the wedding about to be held. Tell me you haven’t invited them.”
Sebastian Sinclair and his father, Sir Sidney, were explorers who were so famous and so notorious that they sucked the air out of any room they entered. Edwina wouldn’t want them to be within a hundred miles of Percy’s nuptial festivities. They’d drag all of the attention off him and onto themselves, which she could never allow.
Sebastian had been Nathan’s best friend ever since he’d trekked off to boarding school at age seven. They’d been closer than brothers, and with Nathan having no siblings, Sebastian had easily stepped into the role.
His father, Sir Sidney, had loathed Nathan’s grandfather and had delighted in antagonizing him over Nathan. In return, Godwin and Edwina had loathed the Sinclairs who’d supplied Nathan with the camaraderie and bonds his own relatives hadn’t extended.
Once Godwin had died—when Nathan was ten—and was no longer around to boss him, Nathan had begun traveling with the Sinclairs who’d made a name for themselves exploring the Dark Continent.
After that, he’d rarely sailed back to England, and his freedom had galled Edwina. He’d been able to flee Selby while she’d been trapped at the ghastly place. It was a thorn she could never quite pluck out.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “They won’t be putting in an appearance.”
“I hope you mean it.”
Sir Sidney was dead, brutally murdered by a native tribe that had taken umbrage over his philandering with their women. Nathan had no idea where Sebastian was and didn’t want to know. Was he alive? Was he in England? It didn’t matter.
In light of how their debacle had unraveled, if Nathan ever saw him again, it would be pistols at dawn.
“Is my bedchamber prepared for me?” he asked. “I’d like to nap. Or have you confiscated it? You always thought the estate should be yours. Have you seized the master’s suite for your own?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she huffed. “I would never be so brazen.”
“Wouldn’t
you?”
He was still slouched in his chair, and he disrespectfully studied her. They were engaged in a perpetual war of wills she couldn’t win. Even as a boy, when she’d whip him or lock him in a closet or refuse to let him be fed, he’d never bowed to her authority. Or his grandfather’s.
His obstinacy had driven them both mad with frustration. Despite the punishments they’d leveled, they’d never gotten the upper hand.
He pushed back his chair and rose to his full height. She was gray-haired, short, and thin as a rail, fifty years of bile eating away at her from the inside. He towered over her now, and he liked to remind her of that fact.
“Has my room been opened or not?” he asked more testily.
“I’m certain it has. Dobbs had the servants scurrying about since the minute he laid eyes on you.”
“Give orders that I shouldn’t be wakened for any reason. I’ll come down when I’m good and ready. It might be days before that moment arrives.”
He started out, and as he passed by her, she fidgeted, which he liked to witness. He realized he should be a better man, that he shouldn’t goad her, but her recurring and relentlessly awful conduct guaranteed his animosity was set in stone. Nothing could repair the damage she’d caused.
“We’re having guests this evening,” she said.
“So I heard.”
“It’s all the important neighbors. I’d appreciate it if you could show yourself—even if it’s for a brief interval. Stories will have spread that you’re here. If you stay away, it will seem odd.”
He threw her a bone. “I’ll consider it.”
“You’re rather a famous person, aren’t you? Just like your chums, the Sinclairs?” She mentioned his acclaim like an insult. “People will be eager to speak with you.”
“I can’t wait.”
He continued on, and though he was disgusted to admit it, his condition was already improving. The food had rejuvenated him, but it was more than that. He detested Selby and always had, but he was finally safe.
No one at the estate would shoot poison darts at him. No one would attack him with burning arrows. No one would slice holes in his boat in the dark of night so he sank in the rapids and drowned the next morning.
