Estate of the Earl of Lynnford
Early January, 1861
I
t was beyond any doubt the worst portrait he’d ever done. Not that anyone who ever gazed upon it would have thought so. It held barely a hint of the reality, but was mostly fantasy. The matriarch appeared hale, hearty, happy, and healthy. Her husband standing behind her, his hands folded over her shoulders, appeared not to have a care in the world beyond those that came with the mantle of his title. Their five children—two sons and three daughters—surrounded them. Leo knew that he’d done them justice. They all looked down on their mother, their love for her evident in their expressions.
“It’s beautiful, Leo,” she said now, withered and frail on her deathbed, as he held it up for her to view.
“I told you he was marvelous,” Tessa cooed, sitting in a chair, squeezing her friend’s hand.
“Yes, but I thought you were speaking of other things.” Her smile held a shadow of naughtiness, a hint of the vibrant woman she’d once been.
Tessa nodded at Leo. “Thank you.”
“If you need me, you know where to find me.”
She nodded again. The three weeks since Christmas had been horrendous and draining. But Tessa couldn’t leave, refused to go despite the hardship. Lynnford needed her. How often in the last few days had he told her that she was his rock, how often had they held each other and wept?
She watched Leo with his leisurely stride quit the room. How often of late had he provided her with the strength to carry on?
“Will you marry him?” Lady Lynnford asked.
Tessa laughed lightly and adjusted the pillow beneath her friend’s head. “Searching for gossip to spread around during the coming Season?”
“I won’t be here for the coming Season. You and I both know that.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.” She tugged at the covers until no wrinkle remained.
“I’m ready to go, Tess.”
Tessa returned to her chair, took Angela’s hand and rubbed it gently, trying to generate some warmth. How could it be so cold? “Then you should feel free to go, my sweet. Heaven awaits.”
“You’ll see after Lynnie, won’t you?”
She pressed a kiss to the frail fingers. “Of course. And I shall be as good a mother as I can to your children. Even though they are all grown. Sometimes I think they need us more when they are grown.”
“If you don’t marry your artist, then marry Lynnie. He loves you, you know.”
Tessa shook her head.
“No need to deny it, m’dear. I know you love him as well. I also know neither of you acted upon those feelings while I was his wife. But I often saw the longing, especially when we were younger.” She closed her eyes, then opened them with renewed energy. “Men are such silly creatures, blind sometimes. I don’t think he ever realized Stephen was his until we all thought Stephen had been killed in the Crimea.”
Horror swept through Tessa. She’d wanted to spare Angela that pain.
“I love Lynnie,” Angela forged on, as though she read all of Tessa’s thoughts. “Do you think I would look at Stephen and not see the father in the son?”
“I never told him when we were younger, because I thought the knowledge would be a burden.”
“Then it seems you are as silly as he.”
I
t was long past midnight when Tessa came into Leo’s bedchamber. He was working on a self-portrait that he thought he might give to her, but when he saw her face, he knew it would go unfinished. He set down his brush, crossed the room in long, unhurried strides and enfolded her in his embrace.
Her tears came hot and heavy, dampening his shirt. No words were spoken. None were needed. It had always been that way between them.
Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the sofa and sat with Tessa curled on his lap. Her sobs finally gave way to gentle weeping and sniffles.
“Handkerchief?” she croaked.
“I haven’t one on me. Simply use my shirt.”
“Leo—”
“Use my shirt. I’ll put on another.”
She did so, then straightened and leaned back. She began toying with his blond locks. “You have the most unruly hair.”
“And you have the most glorious.” He longed to set it loose, but knew she would welcome no advances from him now. It was too soon, she was too wounded.
“She went quietly. Lynnford and I were both there. He’s telling the children now. I must see to making her ready.”
He skimmed his thumb over her cheek, a cheek he’d kissed a thousand times. “I know.”
“I’m not sure how long we shall stay here.”
“Take whatever time you need.”
“I do love you, you know.” Her voice contained a breadth of sadness that he knew had nothing to do with the loss of her friend.
“I know.”
But not enough. She’d never loved him enough.
T
essa’s sons and their wives came to Lynnford’s estate for the burial of his beloved countess—as did half of London, by the looks of the gathered crowd. She was laid to rest in the family crypt on the estate.
Tessa and Leo had stayed on to relieve the family of the burden of seeing to matters. She felt it was the least she could do for her dear friend. The families—Lynnford’s and hers—had returned to the residence following the funeral. They were all gathered in the parlor now, reminiscing about days gone by, before the countess’s health had been stricken.
Tessa had been so busy attending to Lynnford’s sons and daughters that she didn’t see Leo slip away. He’d been a bit distant, no doubt overwhelmed by all the grief surrounding them. He was so sensitive, so aware of the subtle nuances of others. She decided that they would leave tomorrow. Go to the seaside, perhaps. Stroll along the shore. Listen to the rushing of the wind over the water. It was simply too blasted quiet here.
“I think she would have been pleased to know so many loved her.”
Tessa looked up at Lynnford. He was on the other side of fifty-five now, but still devastatingly handsome and dignified. Yes, she had been silly to think anyone would look at Stephen and not see him. Although perhaps people saw only what they wished to see.
“I shall miss her,” she said.
“No more than I. I don’t know how I shall get on without her.”
“One day at a time. It’s the best we can do.”
“Do you ever think of the future?”
She shook her head slowly. “No, not really.” A sensation washed over her, a sense of dread and foreboding. Strange. Although perhaps it was only because death had recently visited here. She needed Leo. She truly did. Where the devil was he?
She touched Lynnford’s arm. “If you’ll excuse me, I have something to which I must attend.”
“By all means . . . and, Tess, thank you for being here.”
“It was no trouble, I assure you.”
As she passed by them, each of her sons gave her a reassuring hug. Such strong, good men. They were her pride and joy, even if they’d given her graying hair and Ainsley had yet to wed. He wouldn’t like it, but she intended to meddle this Season and begin parading young ladies through his life. She’d been worried about him ever since discovering where his heart wandered. It was a path that would leave him lost and alone. She should know. She’d traveled it long enough in her youth.
She meandered through the hallways until she reached the stairs that led to the bedchamber she was using while in attendance.
She walked in, expecting to find Leo waiting for her. But he was nowhere to be found. In his bedchamber, then. When she turned to retreat back into the hallway, something caught her eye. A folded slip of paper resting on the pillow. The side where she always slept. As she drew nearer, she could make out her name in Leo’s elegant script. The man did everything with a touch of elegance.
Unfolding the paper, she read the carefully worded missive.
He is free now, my love, and so must you be as well. Thank you, my dear Tessa, for every smile, every laugh . . . every night you shared with me. May you find your true happiness now with the one who has always held your heart.
I remain your devoted servant,
Leo
Crushing it to her breast, she whispered his name. For more than thirty years she had longed for Lynnford. His freedom now was bittersweet. Hers was unexpected.
Her artist was gone. She’d done a rather poor job of letting him know how very important he was to her. She feared he didn’t realize that with him, he had taken her heart.
Herndon Hall
Late January, 1861
S
now coated the ground but Jayne was not deterred from taking her daily afternoon stroll. Her physician recommended it. To keep her strong, strengthen her endurance for what was to come. The outside air would also make the baby strong. And that mattered most of all.
She kept one hand on her abdomen, rubbing it as she walked. It made her feel closer to the child, although evidence of its existence was sparse. She was not yet rounding, but it was still early. The night she announced her condition to Walfort, he told her that he loved her, and she wept because he’d not said the words since she returned from Blackmoor. He held her through the night as he’d not done in more than three years.
She sent word to Ainsley. Two words actually. They seemed insignificant in retrospect, but then any words would be.
Walfort was effusive with his praise—overly so, she thought at times, but then she supposed the difficult part for him was now. To see the fruition of his plan, the reality of it. To know they would have a child. He wanted desperately for everyone to believe it was his.
She told him it didn’t matter. He would be the child’s father. That was what truly counted.
But he would not be deterred. He was making plans for them to go to London for the Season—even though her period of confinement would coincide with those months. She took a deep breath to relax. She would deal with it when the time came. The fact that they might cross paths with Ainsley had nothing to do with her worry over going. A woman great with child simply didn’t appear in public. It wasn’t done. No matter how much her husband might wish it.
Going to London next Season would suit much better. She would simply have to convince him of that fact. Because she certainly didn’t want him to doubt her affections for him or to wonder what her feelings toward Ainsley were.
No. They would not go to London. They would stay here. Their child would stay here. Another deep breath. The decision was made. She simply had to convince Walfort.
Grantwood Manor, Northhamptonshire
Early February, 1861
A
insley was sitting at his desk, studying his investments, when his mother barged into the room. He truly needed to explain to her that he required warning when she was going to visit. What if he’d had his mistress at Grantwood Manor, sprawled over his desk with her skirts hiked up to her waist?
It would have been quite the trick, he thought, since he had yet to acquire her.
He came to his feet and delivered an oft-repeated falsehood. “Mother, what a pleasant surprise.”
“I returned to London to discover that Leo has packed up all his belongings and gone.”
“I’m well. Thank you for asking. And how do you fare?”
“Ainsley, I have no time for trivial matters. Don’t you understand? He’s gone!”
He arched a brow. “You are flummoxed by this turn of events? I would have thought the note he left you at Lynnford’s would have served as notice.”
It had certainly taken him and his brothers by surprise. His mother had not shared the words with them, only the gist of the message: her longtime lover had decided to move on to younger pastures. Her words. Ainsley seriously doubted they were Leo’s.
“What I am is vexed,” she said succinctly now, pacing before his desk as though she wished desperately to lift something from it and smash it against a wall. “All these years I had misled myself into believing he was a man of honor, not a coward. He did not have the decency to face me in person, to say good-bye. He simply assumed I would want to be rid of him.”
“How many times did he ask you to marry him?”
She staggered to a stop. He couldn’t recall ever seeing his mother this rattled. “I do not see how that signifies.”
He moved around the desk and took up a position in front of it, leaning his hip against it, folding his arms over his chest. “By refusing him, you gave the impression that he was merely temporary.”
“Temporary until
I
indicated it was time for him to go. When someone of our station takes a lover, that is the way of it. We assume the expenses. We determine when the relationship is over, and I was not yet done with him.”
“It has been nearly a month.”
“I couldn’t leave Lynnford and his children as abruptly as Leo left me. Matters needed to be seen to and their grief was still too raw.”
“A month,” he repeated.
“Blast you, Ainsley. I know precisely how long it’s been. I am well aware of every moment that has been empty of Leo’s presence. I have spent the past ten days striving to find him, but I do not even begin to know where to look. He belonged to no clubs. I do not know who his friends are. I know nothing at all about his family.” Tears welled in her eyes. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his mother weep. The pain of it nearly caused him to double over. “How could I know so little about him when I love him so deeply?”
Uncrossing his arms, Ainsley wrapped his hands around the edge of his desk. “Why are you here, Mother?”
“Because I am well aware that you know a certain unsavory sort. People who spy on others. That’s how you handled that awful woman who was causing trouble for Stephen and Mercy. If these
persons
know how to spy, perhaps they know how to find.”
“We don’t even know his last name. Do you have any notion where he lived before you met him?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “When we were together all that mattered was that we were together.”
He nodded. It was quite the dilemma, but he did know someone who could possibly help. “Sir James Swindler is a man I’ve used in the past. He has a talent for ferreting out information. Let me put a few things together and we shall go to London.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
“I should warn you, however, that when Leo is found, I shall be obligated to challenge him to a duel in order to restore your honor.”
“Dueling is frowned upon.”
“That does not stop people from doing it, and it certainly shall not stop me.”
She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and was once again the determined woman who had eased his hurts when he was a lad. “Find him. Then leave it to me to deal with this business between us. Believe me, he shall rue the day he was ever born.”
Jolly good for her. At least her tears were gone. He could handle his mother as long as she wasn’t weeping.
Inwardly, he smiled. He suspected Leo could handle her as well. Still, God help the man if she found him. A woman scorned and all that.
L
eo stood at the edge of the cliff. Below him the sea roared against the shore, but up here there was a certain peace in being above the fray. He’d taken to painting landscapes of late, and he tried now to imbue his current work with this sense of tranquillity that surrounded him. But all he managed were dark strokes and hard edges. He cast the canvas aside and picked up another—to begin afresh, to begin over. It was most difficult, however.
He’d hoped for a new start at this little cottage by the sea. A new direction. People were always disappointing, but the land . . . the land remained steadfast and true. Except for the little bit at the very edge of the cliff that tumbled away beneath the weight of his foot one afternoon and nearly had him losing his balance and toppling onto the rocks below.
He’d have served as food for the fish before anyone found him. This little isolated bit of heaven was quickly turning into hell. He was leasing it for another month, and then he would travel aboard. France, perhaps. Or Italy. Tess had always wanted to visit Italy. He should have taken her.
Better yet, he should have left her years ago instead of pining away for her like a callow lad.
He rubbed an itch on the back of his neck, but that only seemed to worsen it. Perhaps it was the ghost of the young woman who had flung herself off the cliff. Her story was legend, as was the tale of her sisters. One of them owned this bit of land. When she and her husband were in London, they leased the property. Leo had paid handsomely for the isolation. He needed some time. A man with a wounded heart was not at all pleasant to be around. Of late he was even coming to despise his own company. Avoiding himself, however, was proving most difficult.
The breeze surrounding him took on a sweeter scent, one that reminded him of passion-filled nights. He’d not been with a woman since Tess. Perhaps tonight he would stroll down to the tavern in the village and see what was to be had.
“What do you think of that notion, little ghost? Shall I give it a go?”
“I never knew you spoke to yourself,” a familiar voice murmured.
Tessa. He spun around so quickly he threw himself off balance and knocked over his canvas and easel. In spite of the dark circles beneath her eyes and her apparent loss of weight, she was still the most beautiful woman upon whom he’d ever gazed. His breathing was harsh, erratic, his heart having a difficult time keeping up. Inhaling deeply, he regained his composure. He wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her, make love to her on the grass.
Instead he forced out the words, “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“Ainsley hired a private investigator. Sir James Swindler.”
Leo slammed his eyes closed. In retrospect, when he paid for his lease, he supposed he should have told the man that he sought a sanctuary and didn’t want anyone to know where he was. “I do hope you didn’t pay him much. This happens to be his cottage by the sea. His and his wife’s. What are the odds?”
“Although it is vulgar to discuss money, we paid him what I thought his information was worth. I would say you’re in dire need of having your hair trimmed, but I daresay I think I like it long.”
He’d pulled it back and tied it in place with a thin strip of leather. “You didn’t answer me. Why are you here?”
“For a proper good-bye. Did you really think I would be content with a letter?”
“It seemed less painful for both of us.”
“You assumed I’d choose Lynnford over you.”
His harsh laughter echoed around them. “You’ve loved the man for years. Granted, he’ll have a period of mourning, but after so long, that’s merely a small inconvenience. Although perhaps he’ll forgo mourning. I’m sure he’s anxious to be with you again. I certainly wouldn’t let etiquette keep me from you.”
“He loves me.”
“Of course he does. He’s not a fool.”
“We’ve had so many nights of talking long past midnight—”
“I don’t wish to hear it, Tess. Say whatever you have to say and be gone.”
At that moment, Tessa thought her heart would break. To see her beautiful Leo reduced to this, hurting and in so much pain. Even though he was attempting to disguise it with curt words and flat emotion. She’d been with him too long, knew him too well. How could she have been so blind to her true feelings regarding him?
She angled her chin proudly. “Very well. If you insist. I’ve come to invite you to my wedding.”
He shook his head sadly. “That I cannot do, my love.”
“But it shall be the talk of London. I want you there. Desperately.”
He gazed out to the sea. “I never thought you to be cruel, Tess. I can deny you nothing. But please don’t ask this of me.”
“But if you’re not there, my dear, dear Leo, then however shall I marry you?”
She watched as the shock of her words rippled over his beloved features.
“Me? But you always said no when I asked for your hand.”
“I was a foolish woman. Lynnford was the love of my youth. And as we have talked these many weeks as we’ve not been able to talk in years, so we discovered that neither of us is the person that each of us fell in love with. We were holding onto someone who no longer exists.” She took a tentative step toward him. “You love me as I am now. And I shall love you always. Marry me, Leo. For God’s sake, marry me.”
She didn’t recall seeing him move, but suddenly she was in his arms and his mouth was devouring hers. A small part of her questioned the wisdom of this, thought he was still too young for her, but most of her no longer cared.
She loved him, with all her heart and soul. She had for years, but she’d held onto a promise from her youth. Wisdom was supposed to arrive with age, but apparently for her, it had taken a detour.
He lifted her into his arms. “Ask me again.”
“Marry me.”
“Why, Tess? Why?”
She cradled his cheek, hating that she had given him reason to doubt. “Because I love you more than I have ever loved any man. And I suspect longer. I’m scared, Leo. I will grow old long before you.”
He laughed. “Tess, you’re old now.”
With a screech, she slapped his shoulder. “I’m not
that
old.”
He began walking toward the cottage. “I shall always be younger than you, but then I always have been, and what I love about you has nothing to do with your age. You’re strong and you’re determined and you have raised three fine sons.”
“And you have no sons,” she reminded him. “What if you decide you want children?”
“For God’s sake, I’ll borrow one of your grandchildren for a while. You have enough of them running around.”
“But they are not yours. They do not carry your blood.”
“What does that matter? I love them, Tess, because they are part of you and that makes them mine.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “How could I have ever thought I could live without you?”
“It does seem rather ludicrous, doesn’t it?”
Laughing, she tightened her hold on him. “Oh, I have missed you.”
He carried her into the house and up the stairs to the bedchamber. It was small and simple, but at that moment she would have been happy with a tent.
With a swiftness born of familiarity, he was undoing her fastenings, removing her clothes as she worked to do the same with his. After all these years, why was it that the anticipation of seeing him naked brought such excitement? Shouldn’t she be bored with him by now?
“God, Tess,” he said, in awe once she was standing before him unrestrained by clothing. “You are so beautiful.”
“I am not so firm as I once was.”
“You fit me perfectly. You have aged like a fine wine, and I enjoy very much sipping from you.”
He tumbled her onto the bed, and she welcomed the weight of him. He was still firm and well-muscled. She didn’t think that he’d ever go to fat. She glided her hands over him, while he buried his face between her breasts, kissing the inside of one and then the other. With his tongue, he drew little stars over her skin.
He caressed and stroked, kissed and plundered. Familiarity made them comfortable with each other, increased the pleasure. Awkwardness never emerged between them. They knew what each other liked, and they delivered.
They became a frenzied tangle of limbs, and when she thought she could stand it no longer, he finally entered her with one sure thrust—
And stilled.