Always

by Cheryl Holt

  “You shouldn’t. Her mother has been parading her on the Marriage Market for years. Susan has always known her dowry would buy her a high match. Now she’s purchased it, and she’ll play her part.”

  “I doubt she’ll be happy here with us. Percy will rarely be home to attend her.”

  “Perhaps she’s lucky he won’t be.”

  It was as far as she would go in complaining about Percy. She recognized his quirks and foibles, but no husband was perfect, as Susan was about to discover. She’d have to learn how to manage him.

  “She’s only twenty,” Trevor said. “I don’t think she realizes the sort of arrangement he envisions.”

  Edwina tossed her napkin on the table and stood. “You’ll have to excuse me. I have a busy day.”

  “Don’t let me delay you.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Have there been any sightings of Nathan?” Trevor asked. “Is he still sleeping?”

  “Yes, he’s still sleeping.”

  “Will we get to see him before he flits off again?”

  Trevor was six years younger than Nathan, and he idolized his cousin. Edwina couldn’t comprehend why.

  Nathan had been a rude, impertinent boy who’d become a rude, impertinent man. He’d never forgiven her for bringing him to Selby, and of course, there was the other…issue. His bastard half-sisters had been sent away—all ties severed—when he was small and memories could be molded and wiped out entirely.

  When his father, Matthew, and the mercenary whore, Mary Carter, had died in their accident, Edwina and Godwin had been vexed over what to do with their three children.

  One of them, Nathan, was heir to an earldom, born during Matthew’s lawful and very short marriage. The other two, twins Rebecca and Sarah, were the illicit product of his infatuation with Nathan’s nanny. They were a total stain on the family’s name and reputation.

  Godwin had refused to have the little bastards in the house, and Edwina had wholeheartedly concurred with his edict. It would have been an outrageous conclusion, so the twins had been dealt with in the sole manner Edwina could devise, and she’d never regretted her role in the debacle.

  The existence of the twins was a secret Godwin had insisted they keep, and Edwina would keep it until she was cold in the grave. Nathan was an only child. He’d been convinced of it and truly believed it. She was the lone person in the world who could counter that assessment, and she never would.

  But not all schemes worked out as planned. Nathan had grown up knowing a dire incident had occurred, but he’d never been able to recollect what it might be. He’d blamed Edwina for unrecalled terrible behavior, and he hated her for it, but he could never pinpoint the source of his fury.

  His father and Mary had been negligent parents. They’d let him run wild, had spoiled him and repeatedly told him he was precocious and special. As a result—when he’d arrived at Selby—he’d been out of control and there’d been no reasoning with him.

  To add insult to injury, he’d befriended that cheeky Sebastian Sinclair at school, then he’d practically been adopted by Sebastian’s father, Sir Sidney. He’d traveled with them constantly, leaving England—at age ten—the minute Godwin had perished and wasn’t around to prevent it.

  Edwina had tried to foil Sir Sidney from absconding with Nathan, but how could a lowly female stop Sir Sidney—or Nathan—from doing whatever they chose?

  Nathan reveled in the exotic life Sir Sidney had provided, and the longer he’d lived with the Sinclairs, the more recalcitrant he’d been. She was weary of him and them, and she wouldn’t tolerate Trevor being fascinated.

  “Yes, I imagine we’ll see Nathan sooner or later,” she said. “He was in quite a desperate condition yesterday, but I’m sure he’ll recuperate swiftly.”

  Trevor frowned with concern. “What was wrong with him?”

  “He had a difficult trip home. It’s nothing a bit of rest and relaxation can’t fix.”

  “I’d like to accompany him on one of his adventures.”

  He mentioned it softly, casually, and he was staring out the window, a dreamy gleam in his eye, as if Africa was a sort of Heaven.

  “You can trust me on one important fact, Trevor Blake, about which I intend to be firm and unmovable. You will never journey to Africa with your cousin. Not while I draw breath.”

  She stormed out, suddenly so angry that she thought her head might simply explode.

  * * * *

  “What is it, Mother?”

  “We have to talk.”

  Florence Middleton waved Susan to a chair. They were in her bedroom suite, in the sitting room, both up and dressed and eager to face the morning. Florence was seated at the table by the window that looked out over the park and was finishing her breakfast.

  She’d requested a tray be sent up so she could slyly evaluate the competence of the chef and the servants. She liked to compare herself to the lofty families with whom she was so anxious to socialize. She liked to check their procedures and professionalism, and to her great aggravation, breakfast had been very good—hot, tasty, rapidly delivered—so she was a tad irked, but trying not to show it.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked her daughter. “Will you dish up a plate?”

  “No. I’ll go down to breakfast.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “What is it you need? Can we deal with it quickly? I’m nervous enough as it is. I can’t bear to have you stir a new pot of distress.”

  “Fine. I’ll be brief.”

  There was a housemaid lurking in the corner, and Florence shooed her out, having her shut the door as she exited. They waited, listening as her footsteps faded down the hall.

  Then Florence leaned in and murmured, “The Earl is home from Africa. I’ve been contemplating what it could mean for us.”

  Susan scowled. “What it might…mean?”

  “He’s thirty, and he’s a bachelor. It’s time for him to wed.”

  “I suppose it is, but what has that to do with me?”

  “He’s been out of the country, so we never had a chance to confer with him about you.”

  “You’re speaking in riddles. Please clarify your comment so I can figure out what you’re telling me.”

  “What if we could get him interested in you?”

  “Why would we hope for that?”

  “Perhaps—if you charmed him—he would marry you. You could have an earl for your husband rather than an earl’s cousin.”

  Susan’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Are you suggesting we cry off from my engagement to Percy and pursue Lord Selby instead?”

  “Yes! Exactly!” Florence practically crowed the words. “Think of it, Susan! You’d be a countess! You’d be one of the greatest ladies in the land!”

  “Pardon me, Mother, but aren’t I already one of the greatest ladies? Isn’t that where my dowry has positioned me? That’s what you’ve always told me.”

  “Money’s a definite benefit, Susan, but there’s naught as valuable as a title. Just imagine! You! Countess of Selby! All of your dreams would come true.”

  “No, all of yours would come true. They’re not mine. I’ve never cared about all of that snooty nonsense. I simply want a husband who loves me.”

  “Love, bah!” Florence sneered. “Are you expecting to receive it from Percy Blake? You won’t, and he’s an enormous boor besides.”

  “I guess,” Susan said. “I haven’t spent sufficient time around him to have developed an opinion.”

  “He’s never done anything exciting, but his cousin, Lord Selby, is an adventurer! Can’t you picture how all the other girls would swoon with jealousy if you snagged him?”

  Florence experienced a little thrill too from pondering how green with envy her own acquaintances would be.

  “We’d accomplish this how?” Susan’s incredulity was extremely annoying. “Am I to flirt and seduce him?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then…what? He’ll fall madly in love and propose? Then we’d
inform Percy and his mother that we’ve changed our minds?”

  “Yes,” Florence enthusiastically repeated. “I’ve written to your father. I’m positive he’ll support us in this.”

  Albert was brilliant in business, but he never concerned himself with household problems and never involved himself in Florence’s domain. He would follow her lead, and if funds were required, he would provide them without complaint. In her view, a significant sum could purchase nearly any conclusion she sought.

  Susan interrupted her frantic musing. “You’re confused about one issue, Mother.”

  “What is it?”

  “We haven’t even met Lord Selby. We have no idea if he’d like me or not, and as he is a complete stranger to me, there’s no guarantee I could charm him.”

  “You’re the prettiest girl in the kingdom, Susan. And you’re so rich! How could he resist you?”

  Susan forged ahead with her objections. “In the meantime, we’d upset Percy and Edwina, and we’d disgrace ourselves with awful behavior. Percy and Lord Selby would both likely decide I’m fickle and unreliable. I might end up slinking to London without a wedding or a husband. Who would marry me then?”

  “You worry too much.”

  “Well, you don’t worry quite enough.”

  “I’ll get to work on this immediately,” Florence said.

  “Mother!” Susan sharply snapped. “You’re not listening to me.”

  “I’m listening. I just believe you’re being ridiculous to give up this chance. Why not at least try to entice Lord Selby? What could it hurt? What if you succeeded?”

  Susan’s expression grew mulish and defiant. Typically, she was very obedient, but not always. She pushed back her chair and stood. “I refuse to discuss this any further. I’m going to breakfast.”

  “We’re not finished.”

  Susan ignored her. “If I’m lucky, my fiancé will be there, and he and I can share a few activities today.”

  “I’ll talk to Nell about it then. She’ll set you straight.”

  “Yes, please talk to Nell.” Susan snorted with disgust. “She’ll tell you that you’re deranged.”

  She swept out, her temper blazing, but Florence instantly forgot about her and was focused on bigger topics.

  She’d started with nothing, had wed Albert when he’d had nothing. They’d toiled and struggled to the top of England’s merchant class. People snickered at her. They gossiped and called her crass and common, but she wouldn’t apologize for being who she was.

  Albert had convinced her that Percy was as high as they could reach. Florence had had to relent and accept him, but with his being several steps below the utmost rung of the social ladder, it had seemed as if they’d failed.

  Now—like a magical gift!—Nathan Blake had returned from Africa. Why not try for him? Why not shift his gaze in Susan’s direction?

  She’d told Susan she would confer with Nell, and she would. Nell was pragmatic and sensible, and she could sway Susan as Florence couldn’t. Nell owed Florence everything—everything!—and if Florence ordered her to persuade Susan to attract Lord Selby, then Nell would do it.

  Nell understood who fed her, who clothed her, and who kept a roof over her head. She would assist Florence or she would suffer the consequences. She knew that, and Florence knew it too.

  * * * *

  Trevor had eaten breakfast and was strolling toward the foyer when he saw Percy standing there. His brother had donned his coat and hat and was dressed for his trip to the city. He had no secrets from Trevor, and with him spending almost all of his time in town, Trevor had discovered where he was going and why.

  At age twenty, Percy had been a wild, unrestrained dandy who’d gambled and gamboled with a reckless abandon. He’d fallen for a mildly talented actress, Pamela Pomeroy, who’d lacked the talent to leap into the important roles where she might have had a lucrative career on the stage.

  Instead, she’d glommed onto Percy who—with the impetuousness of youth—had been eager to marry her. He’d actually broached the subject with their mother, and Edwina’s response had been utterly predictable.

  She’d nearly had an apoplexy and had adamantly denied his request. She’d demanded Percy sever the relationship, and she assumed Percy had obeyed her. But Percy and Pamela had kept on ever since, with Edwina being in the dark about the whole sordid affair.

  Trevor couldn’t decide if Percy was genuinely fond of Pamela or if he just philandered with her out of habit, and Pamela was no fool. She’d bound Percy to her side by birthing him two children, and Percy had the three of them stashed in a tiny apartment in London.

  They were his clandestine other family and the reason why he constantly galloped off to London.

  Occasionally, Trevor wondered if Percy might have wed Pamela back in the day when his passion for her had burned so hotly. Perhaps they’d been husband and wife since then—or perhaps not—but the seedy scenario explained why he was so desperate to get his hands on Susan’s dowry. The poor man had a family to support, and Susan would help him.

  As Trevor watched from the shadows, Susan came down the stairs. With her lush blond hair, big blue eyes, and curvaceous figure, she was the prettiest female ever. She was so gracious too; she seemed to float rather than walk.

  He’d only spoken to her a few times, but she was very interesting, very sweet. She had no idea of the horrid future awaiting her with Percy as her spouse, and Trevor felt very sorry for her. If he’d had a fortune of his own, he’d steal her away. He’d proceed in an instant, and he wouldn’t suffer an ounce of guilt.

  He was twenty-four and had completed his schooling. He had no skills or profession, no funds of his own, and he was still living at home with his malicious mother and unlikeable brother. He’d give anything to escape to a different, better life—and to take Susan with him—but he couldn’t imagine how to accomplish it.

  Susan reached the foyer, and Trevor caught a glimpse of his brother’s expression. He was irked by the delay the encounter with Susan would cause, but he hastily smoothed away his scowl and greeted her with a fake smile.

  “Susan!” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you up so early.”

  “With all the excitement in the house, I couldn’t sleep in.”

  “Neither could I,” Percy lied.

  “Are you off for a morning ride?” she asked.

  “No. I have to make a swift trip to town.”

  “It’s nothing serious I hope.”

  “I merely have some tasks I’ve been ignoring, and I can’t keep putting them off. I’ll be back for supper.”

  “I’ll be very forward and tell you I was planning to coerce you into socializing with me for a few hours.”

  “How about tomorrow? We’ll get together then.”

  “I’d like that. With our wedding approaching so rapidly, it seems as if we should…well…chat.”

  “Yes, we probably should.”

  She laughed, the sound of it like the tinkling of a silver bell, and Percy laughed too.

  Percy was handsome and could be very charming when he tried, and Trevor’s annoyance soared. His jealousy and temper too. He loved bringing his brother down a peg.

  “I’m starving,” Susan said. “Is breakfast being served somewhere?”

  “Yes, in the small dining room. Have you located it yet? Would you like me to escort you?”

  “Thank you, but no. I know where it is.”

  “I’ll see you later.”

  Percy strolled out, and Trevor tiptoed away. When she entered the dining room, he was seated at the table and pretending he was just done eating himself.

  “Susan! Hello!” he said.

  “Hello to you too.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Yes, I could gorge myself silly.”

  She went to the buffet and grabbed a plate, and he leapt up to assist her, showing her the various choices and holding the lids on the pans while she scooped out what she liked.

  Once her
plate was full, they sat and talked: about the weather, about the party the evening before, about Cousin Nathan’s arrival.

  “Why didn’t he come down to supper last night?” she asked. “I’m worried he was irritated by all the company that’s here for my wedding. After all, he’d traveled such a long distance, only to find his house jammed with people. It couldn’t have been a pleasant discovery.”

  “He was very tired. I guess he had a difficult journey.”

  “I can imagine. What’s he like?”

  “He’s incredible.” Trevor imbued the word incredible with too much enthusiasm, and he blushed. It was obvious he was in awe of his cousin, but he’d hate to have Susan view him as a gushing, worshipful juvenile. “I mean he’s had such a fascinating life. He’s seen things most men simply read about in books. He’s brave and driven to seize what he craves.”

  “He’s lucky then.” She sighed with what might have been regret. “I wish I was brave and driven to seize what I crave.”

  “What would that be? If you could have whatever you desired, what would you pick?”

  At his posing his query, their gazes locked in the most arresting way, their blue eyes connecting with a sort of sizzle that flitted around the room and nearly lit it on fire.

  “I’ve never really considered the question,” she said. “My future has been set in stone forever. I’ve only ever expected to grow up and make a grand marriage.”

  “And you’re finally at that spot.” He daringly inquired, “Do you suppose it will provide what you’re seeking?”

  For the slightest instant, she hesitated, then she said, “Yes, I’m sure it will. What girl doesn’t want to be a bride?”

  “What girl indeed?” Trevor mused.

  They were quiet as she finished her meal, then he asked, “What are your plans for the day?”

  “I haven’t decided. I’d hoped to socialize with Percy, but I bumped into him in the foyer. He had business in London.”

  Trevor stared long and hard as he scolded himself for lacking the audacity to spill the terrible secret out onto the table. It would ooze between them and drip to the floor like blood flowing from a wound.

  Percy attached himself to Pamela when he was twenty, and he can’t seem to break it off. They have two children now. He was anxious to marry her, and I’m afraid they might even be married, yet he intends to commit bigamy and wed you anyway. What do you think about that?