Always

by Cheryl Holt

  He didn’t recognize how fortunate he was to have relatives, and if she’d had a magic wand, she’d have waved it at them so they’d all like each other. But it sounded as if too much water had passed under the bridge.

  He stared at the lake, finally letting his gaze settle on Susan and Trevor who were on the other side and not in any hurry to return to the picnic.

  “What can they be talking about?” he asked.

  “I couldn’t guess.”

  “They look awfully cordial—almost as if a romance is blossoming.”

  “Don’t be silly. Susan is engaged to Percy.”

  “Poor girl,” he muttered.

  Nell was so anxious to delve into the situation with him that she had to physically bite her tongue to keep from babbling. She didn’t dare discuss Susan’s mistaken views about matrimony or how condescending Percy was or how Nell deemed the pair to be horridly mismatched.

  She was merely the poverty-stricken ward, the bride’s friend and companion. In the grand scheme of things, she wasn’t entitled to have an opinion about any of it.

  “Did you get enough to eat?” she inquired, changing the subject yet again.

  “Yes, I’m stuffed.”

  “May I tell the servants to pack up?”

  “How about Susan and Trevor? Have they eaten?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I don’t mind if we declare ourselves finished.”

  He eased onto his back and peered up at the sky, and when she peeked over at him, he’d fallen asleep. Just that quickly—in less than a minute. It had her recalling his rundown condition. When she’d first met him, she’d thought he looked gaunt and ill, and he’d confessed to being wounded. She wondered how badly he’d been hurt.

  Should she speak to his aunt? Should she suggest a doctor visit him?

  No. Such an action would be far out of bounds. He was a grown man. If he wanted to summon a doctor, he could. She should butt out.

  She watched him for awhile, but he didn’t rouse. Eventually, she went to the servants and told them they could go. They debated whether they should traipse off when the Earl was still present, and she convinced them it would be all right, that he’d agreed they could depart.

  They quietly loaded their baskets and folded down the tables. He was slumbering so deeply that he didn’t stir. They’d brought everything on a cart, and they stacked it all, then tiptoed away, furtively glancing at him the whole time.

  She seated herself next to him again, and she worried over how weary he was, how drained. He’d dozed off by her side, and to her, it meant he trusted her in some small, significant way. She embraced that trust, feeling as if she had a special duty to protect him and keep him safe.

  Suddenly, he frowned and murmured an unintelligible, but angry remark. Then he jerked awake, lurching to a sitting position, his body braced as if to fend off an attack.

  He froze, confused as to where he was, then recognition dawned, and he shook his head.

  “Was I sleeping?”

  “Yes.”

  “For how long.”

  “Long enough for the servants to pack up and leave.” She pointed to where they’d been.

  “I didn’t hear a peep out of them. I must have been tired.”

  “I don’t think you’re well.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  It was an important admission. She was sure he pictured himself as a very manly man. He wouldn’t like to reveal any weakness.

  “Were you having a nightmare?” she asked.

  He snorted with disgust. “I always have nightmares.”

  She wanted to pry as to what they were about, what he feared. In her view, she was sufficiently close to him that he ought to be able to tell her, but he wouldn’t realize he could.

  “I should probably get back to the house,” he ultimately said.

  Her initial impulse was to beg him to tarry, but she was lucky he’d attended at all. She tamped down the needy words that were dying to spill out.

  “Thank you for coming,” she told him.

  “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “I’m astounded that you showed up, and I’m even more astounded that you stayed as long as you did.”

  He chuckled. “So am I.”

  “You’re a strange character, Lord Selby.”

  “Yes, I am. And it’s Nathan, remember?”

  “I shouldn’t use your Christian name.”

  “Why not? There’s no one here but us.”

  “No, there’s not, Nathan.”

  “Ha! I was certain I could coerce you into it.”

  “Vain beast.”

  “You don’t know the half of it, Nell.”

  He peered around, saw no gawkers nearby and—to her great astonishment—he dipped in and kissed her. Right out in the open where discovery was a distinct possibility! Any curious person could have been spying from a discreet distance.

  The kiss was nothing like the passionate ones he’d delivered earlier in that deserted parlor. It was just a quick brush of his lips to her own, but it was dear and precious and reckless, and her pulse raced with alarm and delight.

  “You make me happy,” he said.

  “I’m glad.”

  He pushed himself to his feet, grimacing in pain as if he were eighty years old and his rheumatism killing him. She was still seated on the blanket, and their gazes caught and locked. It felt as if the universe was noting their connection, taking stock of the fact that they were together.

  “Will I ever see you again?” she asked. She’d be crushed if she didn’t.

  “Yes, and I’ll let it be a surprise. I’ll put in an appearance when you least expect it.”

  “Promise you won’t embarrass me when you do.”

  “Me? Embarrass you? I shall be a perfect gentleman.”

  “I doubt that very much. As you walk to the house, watch out for Susan’s mother. She plans to skulk in the garden so she can bump into you.”

  “I learned all the secret ways into the manor when I was a boy. She’ll never stumble on me.”

  He whipped away and marched off, and she figured he’d glance back, that he might wave or call out a parting remark, but he didn’t.

  Something was happening between them that she didn’t understand. She shouldn’t pursue it or encourage him, but it was so powerful she couldn’t prevent it from washing them away.

  She didn’t believe in Fate or destiny or any of that nonsense, but there was the oddest perception in the air that their relationship was meant to be, that a profound and fantastic conclusion was supposed to arrive.

  He was swallowed by the shrubbery, and she yearned to jump up and chase after him, but that was madness in the extreme. She yanked her focus from the spot where he’d been, and she directed it at Susan instead. Her potent thoughts wafted out, beseeching Susan to return so the picnic could end.

  Now that Nathan had left, he’d taken the enjoyment with him.

  Why linger?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Nephew! I would have a word!”

  Nathan bit down a groan of frustration. It was very late, and he’d just reached the rear stairs and had nearly escaped up to his bedchamber, but Edwina had caught him sneaking in. Why was she still up?

  He whirled around. “What is it, Edwina?”

  “I won’t chat in the hall. Follow me. We will converse like normal human beings or we won’t converse at all.”

  The small dining room was down the hall. She stomped off to it, expecting him to chase after her like a trained puppy. He almost didn’t. She had an uncanny knack for poking at old wounds. She treated him as if he were still an incorrigible, snotty child who didn’t listen or obey, and he allowed her to get away with it.

  She’d run Selby on her own for many years, without any input from him on her decisions. His method of dealing with her had been to not deal with her, to simply let her keep on as she always had.

  Someday in the future, Edwina, Trevor, and Percy would have to leave S
elby, and Nathan would have to make arrangements for them.

  None of them had any money. They dawdled at Selby out of habit, because they had nowhere else to go, and he’d been content to have them tarry. He was never in residence himself, so what did it matter if they remained? It was their home. Why toss them out?

  He wasn’t a cruel man. Not usually anyway. He wouldn’t evict them merely because he could. Or would he? Often, he sensed his grandfather’s malice bubbling under the surface, but when those feelings tried to burst out, he’d latch on to the few memories he had of his fun-loving, happy father. He’d inherited that man’s traits too, and he constantly struggled to be more like him.

  “What is it now?” he asked as he plodded into the room. She’d seated herself in the chair at the head of the table, and he permitted her to sit in it rather than argue. He slid into the one at the other end.

  “You’ve been avoiding me, and we have many issues to discuss.”

  “It’s late, and I’m weary. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  “No, for I’m sure you’ll sneak off then too.”

  Don’t fight with her! Don’t take her bait! She enjoys it too much.

  The admonitions rang in his mind, and he sighed. “Fine. Get it all off your chest. Inform me of what’s vexing you, so I can fix it, then continue on to bed.”

  “I’ll be brief.”

  “Praise be,” he muttered.

  “How long are you staying at Selby?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You like to toss that out as your reply, but what am I to make of it?”

  “You can make of it what you will. I just arrived home. Stop badgering me.”

  “Trevor showed me the newspaper. The article said Sir Sidney has perished.”

  Nathan nodded. “Yes, he has.”

  Her remark of good riddance! was nearly audible, but she refrained from voicing it aloud.

  “What happened to him?” she asked. “How did he die?”

  “I won’t talk about it.”

  “The article claimed you had passed away too.”

  He shrugged. “They were wrong.”

  “Would you care to explain how they could have announced such a ghastly mistake?”

  “No.”

  “I’d like to write them a scathing letter and demand a retraction. Shall I?”

  “No. It doesn’t matter to me if people believe I’m dead.”

  “Well, it matters to your bankers and lawyers. I’ve received three letters wondering if we should implement probate proceedings.”

  When he was off traveling in the wilds of Africa, he forgot that he was Lord Selby, which carried enormous wealth and burdens. He owned huge estates and had fat stock portfolios and bank accounts. He was engaged in shipping and trade. He was responsible for the fiscal security of thousands of ordinary citizens who toiled away for the sole purpose of increasing his riches.

  He hadn’t done anything to accumulate all his assets. They’d been piling up for centuries, with one earl after the next figuring out how to amass more and more and more. It was all managed by trustees and agents. His contributions were rarely required. His advice or opinion were rarely sought. His efforts and participation were seldom necessary.

  The extent of his contribution typically amounted to his signing paperwork after agreements were reached. For the most part, he lived a very simple life, but the minute he was ensconced at Selby, the real world crashed in and popped the bubble where he was able to pretend he was no one at all.

  “Don’t write any letters, Edwina. Don’t demand retractions. Just let me wallow in the peace and quiet.”

  “What about Percy’s wedding? I’ve notified him that you’ll be his best man. Will you? I’m afraid I have to insist on it.”

  “I suppose I can oblige you, but in the meantime, you might speak with Trevor.”

  “About what?”

  “He’s flirting with Percy’s fiancée.”

  “With Susan? Don’t be absurd. He is not.”

  “Have you seen them together?”

  “No. Why would I have?”

  “Perhaps you should tell Percy to tarry at home occasionally so he can shower her with some attention. When he doesn’t exert himself, Trevor is delighted to take his place.”

  “I don’t manage my sons’ affairs as if they’re babies.”

  Her comment was so ridiculous that he laughed. “You don’t?”

  “If Percy has appointments in town, I’m not about to scold him or order him not to go. He understands the importance of this marriage. He recognizes what’s at stake.”

  “What is at stake, Edwina? Money?”

  “Of course it’s money. Susan is about to make Percy very rich.”

  “The lucky boy.” Nathan chuckled sarcastically.

  “You can joke if you like. You’ve always been the heir, so you have no idea how difficult Percy’s life has been.”

  “You’re correct. I have no idea.”

  He could have launched into a diatribe about how lazy Percy was, how he’d once offered to buy Percy a commission in the army so he could have escaped Selby, but he hadn’t been interested. He’d chosen to stay at Selby and never generate a future of his own.

  Now Susan Middleton would provide a path to some sort of meager independence. Percy would never be grateful though, and Susan would be miserable forever.

  “Will that be all?” he asked.

  “No. There’s one other issue.”

  “What is it?”

  “You went to Trevor’s picnic.”

  “Yes, I did, and it appears you’re about to chastise me for it. I would have thought you’d be pleased to have me socializing.”

  “Rumor has it that you were very friendly with Miss Drummond.”

  “Yes, I sat on a blanket with her, and we chatted. What of it?”

  “You’re Lord Selby, Nathan. You’re thirty and a bachelor and one of the premier martial catches in the civilized world. You must be cautious with young ladies that you don’t send the wrong message.”

  He knew precisely what she was telling him, but it galled him when she assumed she had the right to lecture him on any topic.

  “What message would that be?” he snidely inquired.

  “Miss Drummond is very nice; I can’t deny it. She’s pretty and smart and charming too, but she doesn’t have a penny to her name or a drop of blue blood in her veins. It would be easy for a girl like her to imagine affection has blossomed. You shouldn’t encourage her. It would be unkind to raise her hopes.”

  Nathan snorted. “Don’t worry, Aunt. Miss Drummond isn’t impressed by me, and I couldn’t raise her hopes if I tried.”

  “Don’t joke about this either. She’s no different from any other female. You shouldn’t single her out for any reason. It’s needlessly cruel.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” His temper was flaring and, lest their conversation descend into a quarrel, he had to leave. He pushed back his chair and stood.

  She scowled ferociously. “We haven’t discussed the estate.”

  “And I don’t wish to discuss it. However you’ve been carrying on, it’s fine with me. I don’t have to be apprised.”

  “You can’t continue to be uninvolved.” She sniffed with offense. “You gleefully shuck off your responsibilities, but it’s time for you to grow up and behave as is appropriate to your age and station.”

  “Thank you for pointing that out,” he facetiously said.

  “Who else is there to counsel you? You have no parent or grandparent to guide you. There’s only me.”

  “Aren’t I lucky?”

  “Don’t be impertinent. I won’t tolerate insolence from you.”

  Nathan wouldn’t wade into that bog. Instead, he asked, “Where is my childhood home located? The one where I was living when Father and Mother passed away? Where is it?”

  She tsked with annoyance. “Why would you need to know that?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it, tryin
g to recall. I’m just curious.”

  She glanced away, her expression suddenly so furtive that he was certain—whatever her next remark—it would be a lie.

  “It’s been twenty-four years,” she said, “and I was there on precisely one occasion. I can’t be expected to remember.”

  He wondered why she’d always refused to tell him. Obviously, she was determined he not visit the spot. Why not? What was the big secret?

  He decided to talk to the estate agent, to have old family papers brought out so he could peruse them. As he’d trudged home from Africa, he’d struggled to dredge up memories of his boyhood, but there were so many holes in his recollection. He’d been happy with his parents, and since their demise, he’d been so unhappy.

  If he could uncover more of his past, if he could focus on that early era—rather than the horrid period with Godwin and Edwina—might he feel better? Might he be more accepting of his place at Selby?

  He thought so.

  “Goodnight,” he said.

  “You haven’t given me your word about Miss Drummond. You haven’t promised you’ll stay away from her.”

  He smiled a grim smile. “I never make promises, Edwina—not to you anyway—because I never keep them.”

  He hurried out and up the stairs. Initially, he braced, worried she might chase after him, but she wouldn’t have. Their interactions were set in stone. She’d corner him and nag until he couldn’t bear it. Then he’d storm out in a huff. She’d bite down her fury, let it sizzle on a slow boil, then she’d accost him again the instant she had the chance.

  Why permit her to tarry at Selby? It was a question he repeatedly asked himself. He was in residence so rarely, and when he was, every minute with her was miserable. Why not buy her a house in London and be shed of her?

  As with every facet of his position at Selby, it was easier to coast along in the rut where he was stuck rather than dig a new hole. It would take an enormous amount of bickering to pry her away, and he simply didn’t have the energy to engage in the fight that would ensue.

  He rushed to his bedchamber and managed to lock himself in without being waylaid. He poured himself a brandy and stared out at the park. It was dark, and there were no clouds for a change, so he could see the stars. They were different in England from how they appeared in Africa.