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Reese’s Bride
Kat Martin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my friends in Bakersfield.

Thanks for the great memories.

One

England September, 1855

The crisp black taffeta skirt of her mourning gown rustled as she walked out of the dress shop a few doors in front of him.

Reese Dewar froze where he stood, the silver-headed cane in his hand forgotten, along with the ache in his leg. Rage took its place, dense and heavy, hot and seething.

Sooner or later, he had known he would see her. He had told himself it wouldn’t matter, that seeing her again wouldn’t affect him. She meant nothing to him, not anymore, not for nearly eight years.

But as she stepped off the wooden walkway, a ray of autumn sunlight gleamed against the jet-black curls on her shoulders and anger boiled up inside him, fury unlike he had known in years.

He watched her continue toward her sleek black four-horse carriage, the crossed-saber Aldridge crest glinting in gold on the side. She paused for a moment as one of the footmen hurried to open the door and he realized she wasn’t alone. A small, dark-haired boy, nearly hidden in the voluminous folds of her skirt, hurried along beside her. She urged him up the iron steps and the child disappeared inside the elegant coach.

Instead of climbing the stairs herself, the woman turned and looked at him over her shoulder, her gray eyes finding him with unerring accuracy, as if she could feel his cold stare stabbing into the back of her neck. She gasped when she realized who it was, though she must have known, in a village as small as Swansdowne, one day their paths would cross.

Surely she had heard the gossip, heard of his return to Briarwood, the estate he had inherited from his maternal grandfather.

The estate he had meant to share with her.

Their eyes locked, hers troubled, filled with some emotion he could not read. His own gaze held the bitterness and anger he made no effort to hide. He loathed her for what she had done, hated her with every ounce of his being.

It shocked him.

He had thought those feelings long past. For most of the last eight years, he had been away from England, a major in the British cavalry. He had fought in foreign wars, commanded men, sent some of them to their deaths. He had been wounded and nearly died himself.

He was home now, his injured leg making him no longer fit to serve. That and the vow he had made to his dying father. One day he would come back to Briarwood. He would make the estate his home as he had once intended.

Reese would rather have stayed in the army. He didn’t belong in the country. He wasn’t sure where he belonged anymore and he loathed his feelings of uncertainty nearly as much as he loathed Elizabeth.

She swallowed, seemed to sway a little on her feet as she turned away, climbed the steps and settled herself inside the carriage. She hadn’t changed. With her raven hair, fine pale features, and petite, voluptuous figure, Elizabeth Clemens Holloway, Countess of Aldridge, was as beautiful at six-and-twenty as she had been at eighteen.

As she had been when she had declared her love and accepted his proposal of marriage.

His gaze followed the coach as it rolled off toward Aldridge Park, the palatial estate that had belonged to her late husband, Edmund Holloway, Earl of Aldridge. Aldridge had died last year at the age of thirty-three, leaving his wife a widow, leaving her with a son.

Reese spat into the dirt at his feet. Just the thought of Aldridge in Elizabeth’s bed made him sick to his stomach.

Five years his senior, Edmund was already an earl when he had competed with Reese for Elizabeth’s affections. She had been amused by the attentions of the handsome, sophisticated aristocrat, but she had been in love with Reese.

Or so she had said.

The carriage disappeared round a bend in the road and Reese’s racing pulse began to slow. He was amazed at the enmity he still felt toward her. He was a man who had taught himself control and that control rarely abandoned him. He would not allow it to happen again.

Leaning heavily on his cane, the ache in his leg beginning to reach through the fury that had momentarily consumed him, he made his way to his own conveyance and slowly climbed aboard. Aldridge’s widow and her son had no place in his life. Elizabeth was dead to him and had been for nearly eight years.

As dead as her husband, the man she had betrayed Reese to marry.

And he would never forgive her.

Elizabeth leaned against the tufted red velvet seat of her carriage. Her heart was hammering, battering against the wall of her chest. Dear God, Reese.

She had known she would see him. She had prayed it would happen at some distant time in the future. Sometime after she had come to grips with the fact that he was living in the house they had once meant to share.

Dear God, Reese. There was a day she thought never to see him again. Rumors had surfaced. Reese, a major in the cavalry, was missing in action somewhere in the Crimea. There were whispers he was dead. Then he had returned and the news had swept the countryside.

He was back at Briarwood, wounded in the war and retired from the army. He was home, living just a few miles from Aldridge Park. She should have been prepared and yet seeing him today … seeing the hatred in his brilliant blue eyes, made her chest squeeze with guilt and regret.

She knew how much he hated her. If she hadn’t already been certain, she would have seen it in his icy stare today. Every pore in his sun-bronzed face exuded loathing. Every angry thought seemed to reach her across the distance between them. She hadn’t seen him since that day nearly eight years ago that he had come home on leave and discovered she had wed another man.

Not since the day he had called her a whore and vowed that one day she would pay for her lies and deceit.

She had paid. Dear God, she had paid every day since she had married Edmund Holloway. She had done as her father demanded and wed a man not of her choosing.

But she had never stopped loving Reese.

Her heart squeezed. She thought of his hard, handsome features, so masculine, so incredibly attractive. In some ways, he looked the same as he had as a young man of twenty, tall and black-haired, his body hard-muscled and lean, his features sharply defined.

And yet he was a completely different man. He had been a little shy in his courtship of her, a little uncertain. Now he wore his masculinity like a comfortable shirt; it was clear in his unwavering stare, the way his gaze too boldly assessed her. There was a harshness in his features that hadn’t been there when he was young, and a confidence and raw sense of authority that only made him more attractive.

“Mama …?”

Jared’s small voice reached her from across the carriage. “Yes, sweetheart?” A headache had begun to form behind her eyes and she rubbed her temple against the pain.

“Who was that man?” Her son sat quietly on the opposite seat, his voice little more than a whisper. He wouldn’t be talking at all, she knew, if he hadn’t sensed her distress.

She forced herself to smile and patted the seat beside her. Jared scooted next to her and she settled an arm around his small shoulders.

“Major Dewar is an old friend, sweetheart.” A complete and utter falsehood. The man loathed her and she didn’t blame him. “He just got out of the army and he is returned to his home.”

Jared just looked at her. He didn’t ask more, simply gazed at her with his deep-set brown eyes, soulful eyes, she thought. Eyes far too worldly for a child so young, and far too full of loneliness.

Managing a smile, she began to point out the sights along the road as the carriage moved down the lane that cut through the rolling fields. It was mid-September, the leaves turning orange, gold and red. Two small boys played along the roadside tossing a ball back and forth, and Elizabeth pointed them out to Jared.

“Doesn’t that look like fun? You like to play ball. Perhaps one of Mrs. Clausen’s sons will play with you this afternoon.” Mrs. Clausen was the housekeeper, a dear woman raising her daughter’s orphaned grandsons, boys eight and nine years old. They liked Jared, but because of his shyness, rarely sought him out. “Why don’t you ask them when we get home?”

Jared said nothing, but his gaze remained on the boys and the look in his eyes made a lump rise in her throat. As long as he remained at Aldridge Park, Jared would never come out of the shell he had built to protect himself. It was one more reason she had to leave.

Not leave, Elizabeth silently corrected. Escape.

As long as her brother-in-law and his wife, Mason and Frances Holloway, lived at Aldridge Park, she was a prisoner in her own home.

Her headache continued to worsen, pounding away inside her skull as it often did these days. She was afraid of Mason. He was the sort of man who stood a little too close, touched her a little too often. She needed to leave, but she was certain he would simply come after her. She had no idea how far he would go to keep her and Jared—now the Earl of Aldridge—under his control. But she was certain there was little he would not do.

She was frightened. Not only for herself but for her son.

An image arose of Reese Dewar, strong, capable, a veteran of the war, the sort of man who would protect his family no matter the cost.

But Reese wasn’t her husband and never would be.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

Reese returned to Briarwood, his mood dark and brooding. He tried not to think of Elizabeth but he couldn’t seem to get her out of his head. What was there about her? How had she managed to keep a stranglehold over him for so many years? Why had no other woman been able to pierce the wall of his heart as she had done?

His manservant, Timothy Daniels, a brawny young corporal who had served with him for several years before being injured and sent home, arrived in the study just then.

“You are returned,” Daniels said. “Is there anything you need, sir?” Tim had been out of work and hungry when he had appeared at Reese’s door. In a few short weeks, he had become dedicated to Reese’s welfare. With this damnable leg slowing him down, Reese was glad to have a man he could count on.

“I’m fine, Tim.”

“Let me know if you need me.”

Reese scowled. “I imagine I can survive a few hours studying these bloody damned ledgers.” Though in truth, he hated paperwork and would far rather be out of doors, which Timothy, being a military man, seemed to understand.

“Aye, sir. Like I said—”

“That will be all, corporal.” Growing tired of the young man’s overprotectiveness, Reese snapped out the words in his firmest military voice.

“Aye, sir.” The door closed quietly, leaving Reese alone in the wood-paneled room. The study was his sanctuary, a comfortable chamber lined with books, a warm, inviting, masculine place where a fire blazed in the hearth and he could insulate himself from the memories that crept into other parts of the house.

In the days of their courtship, Elizabeth had been to Briarwood more than once. She loved the ivy that covered the white plaster walls of the manor and hung from the porch outside the front door, she had said. She loved the steep slate roof with its whimsical chimney pots that made the house look like a fairy tale dwelling.

She had made plans to paint the drawing room a pale shade of rose and add lace curtains, to hang flowered silk wallpaper behind the sofa. She loved the master’s suite, she told him, loved how sunny it was, the way it looked out over the garden. She couldn’t wait to share his big four-poster bed, a gift his grandfather had commissioned for his bride-to-be.

That thought led to one he didn’t wish to recall and his loins began to fill. Bloody hell. All these years and seeing her once made him want her again. He forced himself to remember the way she had told him how much she loved him and how happy she would be to live at Briarwood as his wife.

Lies. All of them.

Just weeks after he had left for his assignment in London, she had broken her promise to marry him. Instead she had wed an earl, a man of untold wealth, and abandoned the younger son of a duke, a man who could provide a pleasant home and sufficient income but would never be extravagantly rich.

Reese ground his jaw. Since his return, thoughts of Elizabeth had begun to haunt him, memories he had buried years ago. Two days after he had discovered the news of her marriage, he had left Wiltshire County for good, gone back to London and asked to serve in the cavalry, knowing he would be assigned to duty somewhere far from English shores.

If he hadn’t been wounded, if he hadn’t promised his father, he would be there still.

His hand fisted on the top of the desk. Reese dragged in a deep breath and forced his mind back to the present. The ledgers sat open in front of him. He forced himself to concentrate and began to skim the pages. He would have to conquer his painful past and concentrate on the future if he meant to fulfill his obligations and make the fallow fields of Briarwood productive again.

Reese intended to see it done.

With her young son, Jared, walking close beside her, Elizabeth entered the magnificent entry of the huge Georgian mansion, Aldridge Park, her late husband’s country estate. The property and all others entailed to the earldom, along with Edmund’s vast fortune, now belonged to Jared, the recently titled seventh Earl of Aldridge.

The sound of footsteps echoing on the black-and-white marble floor drew her attention and Elizabeth looked up to see her sister-in-law, Frances Holloway, also dressed in black, float into the entry to greet them.

Frances’s lips flattened out in disapproval. “I expected you home hours ago. Where have you been?” She was a thin woman, with high cheekbones and a long, narrow nose. Her greatest asset was her strength of will. Frances managed to turn things to suit her purpose no matter how difficult they might be, probably the reason her husband, Mason, had married her.

“I told you Jared and I were going into the village.” Elizabeth had given up any attempt at being civil to Frances some months back. The woman disliked her and had since the day she had delivered Edmund a son, making it impossible for Mason to inherit the title. “I had some shopping to do. It took longer than I expected.” And lately she hadn’t been feeling quite well. It felt good to be out in the fresh air, out of the house.

But that, like the length of time she had spent, was none of Frances’s business.

“Jared’s tutor has been looking for him. We don’t want him getting behind in his lessons.”

Elizabeth’s arm went protectively around her small son’s shoulders. “He’s going outside to play for a while. Then he can do his lessons.”

Jared looked up at her, his eyes big and dark. “I’ll do them now, Mama. Marcus and Benny prob’ly won’t want to play with me, anyway.”

“But—”

Frances swept in like a tall black raven and scooped Jared off toward the stairs. Elizabeth wanted to tell her little boys needed to do more than just study, but her head was pounding and she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts in order. And her son was already climbing the sweeping staircase, Frances right beside him. She watched them ascend a second set of stairs and disappear into the schoolroom.

“So you’re home.” Mason Holloway’s voice snaked across the entry and Elizabeth turned. “I hope you enjoyed your shopping.”

Just a year younger than Edmund, Mason was a tall, formidable man, heavy through the chest and shoulders, with brown hair and a thick mustache. Not unattractive and yet there was a coarseness about him, and a tone of false sincerity that made her distrust him. A little shiver crept down her spine as his eyes ran over the swell of her breasts and unconsciously she took a step back.

“All in all, it was quite a pleasant outing,” she replied, forcing herself to smile. “A lovely little dress shop just opened. Mrs. O’Neal has some very fine fabrics.”

“You should have told me you wished to go. I would have given you an escort.”

Having Mason anywhere near her was the last thing she wanted. She had suffered Edmund’s company far too long, and her brother-in-law was even more loathsome. Mason Holloway had squandered every dollar he had inherited. He would have been destitute had Edmund not provided for him.

But her husband was nothing if not loyal. In his will, he had left Mason and Frances a life estate on their rooms in the east wing of the mansion, as well as permission to stay in his town house in London. Mason and Frances were there, whether she liked it or not, and there was no way to get rid of them.

“I appreciate the offer,” she told Mason, “but I had Jared to keep me company.”

He scoffed. “Jared is only a boy. A woman of your position shouldn’t be traveling alone.”

She hoisted her chin, but the motion made her dizzy. She reached out to catch hold of the stair rail, hoping Mason wouldn’t notice. “I was scarcely alone. I had a coachman and a pair of footmen with me.”

“That may be true, but next time, I shall accompany you.”

Not if she could prevent it, but Mason was a difficult man to oppose and lately she couldn’t seem to find the will to fight him. She had begun to feel unwell some weeks back, suffering from headaches and nausea and an occasional bout of dizziness.

It was part of the reason she hadn’t moved into Holiday House, the mansion on the outskirts of London she had inherited from her father, along with the rest of the fortune he had provided for her. She had wanted to leave but she was uncertain of her health and sure her in-laws would follow. If she tossed them out, she and Jared would suffer the scandal.

Still, a scandal was better than what might happen if she stayed.

As she stared at Mason, the suspicion that had begun to build over the past few months expanded inside her. If she was out of the way, Mason and Frances would become Jared’s guardians. They would control the vast Aldridge fortune.

The thought of her young son left alone and vulnerable and growing even more withdrawn made her stomach roll with nausea. She was all that stood between Jared and the ruthless people who cared nothing for him and only wanted his money.

Sooner or later, she had to do something.

Her headache worsened, pounded viciously against her skull, and again the dizziness struck. “I am afraid you will have to excuse me. I discover I am not feeling all that well.”

Beneath his mustache, a sympathetic smile curved Mason’s lips. “Perhaps a nap will help.”

Turning away from him, she started up the staircase, but Mason caught up easily and fell in beside her, taking her arm to guide her toward the landing.

“I hope you’re feeling better by supper,” he said as they reached the door to her suite.

“I’m certain I will be.” But she wasn’t sure at all.

Fear for her son returned. As soon as she felt better, she would make plans to leave. She closed the door and prayed she could see it done.

Two

Jared sat in a carved, high-back chair at the head of the long, polished mahogany table in the state dining room. Elizabeth sat to his right in one of the other twenty-six chairs, Mason and Frances to his left. Tall candles burned in the huge, gaslit, crystal chandelier hanging above the table, and the gold-rimmed plates were of finest Sevres porcelain.

It was too formal a setting for a shy little boy like Jared. But Frances had insisted, since it was his seventh birthday, and the issue didn’t seem important enough to Elizabeth to suffer an argument.

The meal was as lavish as the setting: a rich vermicelli soup, roasted partridge with pecan stuffing, lobster in cream sauce, an array of vegetables and fresh baked breads. Dessert was an assortment of cakes and tarts and a fancy custard in the shape of a swan.

It should have been a horse, Elizabeth thought. Jared had always loved horses.

“All right, boy. Time to open your presents.” Mason snapped his fingers at the pair of footmen who stood along the wall. They rushed forward, gifts in hand, and set them on the table in front of her son.

Jared looked at the gifts and beamed at Elizabeth. “They’re all so beautiful, Mama.” It was like her son to appreciate the packages as much as the gifts inside. A lovely silver-wrapped box with a huge blue satin bow sat on top of a larger gift covered in bright red velvet-flocked paper decorated with a red feathered bird. Her own gift was the smallest, but beautifully wrapped in dark brown silk with a simple gold ribbon.

“Which one should I open first?” he asked, looking up at her.

“How about this one?” Mason shoved the red velvet package in front of him, the crimson stuffed bird jiggling with the motion.

Jared pulled the bird off the top and smoothed a hand over its feathers. “I wish it still could fly.”

He was a gentle-natured child. He loved animals of any sort, even stuffed ones.

“Open your gift, boy.” Mason pushed the box even closer and as Jared reached for it, nearly knocked it off the table.

The smile died on his lips. “I’m … I’m sorry, Uncle Mason.”

“It’s all right, boy. Here, let me help you.”

Elizabeth gritted her teeth as Mason pulled the box to his side of the table and ripped off the red flocked paper. He tore open the box then shoved it back to Jared and she saw that it was filled with an army of miniature soldiers.

Each wooden soldier was intricately carved and beautifully painted, half the army wearing the red-and-white uniforms of the British, Napoleon’s blue-coated soldiers forming the opposing force. They were the sort of thing a little boy would love and Jared’s brown eyes gleamed with appreciation.

Elizabeth shivered. All she could think of Reese and how the army had torn them apart. A memory arose of him striding unannounced into the entry of Aldridge Park dressed in his scarlet uniform, so handsome her heart hurt just to look at him. He had discovered her betrayal and her hasty marriage to the earl. He had called her a liar and a whore and left her standing there shaking, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

Elizabeth shook herself, forcing away the image. Her head was beginning to throb and her mouth felt dry. She watched Jared open the second gift, a woolen jacket that Frances had bought him. He thanked her very properly and reached for the last of his gifts.

He looked up at her and smiled, knowing the gift was from her.

“I hope you like it,” Elizabeth said. She was feeling terribly weary. She hoped it didn’t show.

Jared carefully untied the gold ribbon, gently eased off the brown silk wrapping and set it aside, then lifted the lid off the box. Inside on a bed of tissue rested a small silver unicorn. It stood five inches high, its thick neck bowed, its powerful front legs dancing in the air.

Jared reached into the box, carefully removed the horse and held it up with reverence.

“A unicorn,” he said, his small fingers skimming over the shining horse that gleamed in the light of the candalabra in the center of the table. “He’s wonderful, Mama.”

Jared had a collection of four other unicorns. He loved horses of every shape and size and especially the mystical creature with the magic horn in the middle of its forehead. “I’m going to name him Beauty.”

Mason carefully wiped his mustache with his napkin and shoved back his chair. He had little patience with children and that patience was clearly at an end. “It’s getting late. Now that your birthday is over for another year, it is past time you went to bed.”

Anger penetrated her lethargy and the pounding that had started in her head.

Elizabeth came to her feet. “Jared is my son, not yours. I will be the one to tell him when it’s time for bed.” She felt a tug on the skirt of her blue silk dinner gown. Her head was spinning. She hadn’t realized Jared had gotten up from his chair.

“It’s all right, Mama. Mrs. Garvey will be waiting for me.” Mrs. Garvey was his nanny, a kind, gray-haired woman whose own children were grown.

Elizabeth knelt and pulled her son into her arms. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. I’ll have the footmen bring your gifts up to your room.” She smoothed back an errant lock of his thick dark hair. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jared looked over at Mason, caught his scowl, and eased out of her embrace. “Good night, Mama.”

Elizabeth’s heart squeezed. “Good night, sweetheart.”

Clutching the silver unicorn against his small chest, Jared turned and raced out of the dining room.

An hour later, Elizabeth sat on the tapestry stool in front of the mirror above her dressing table. It was late. Most of the household was abed. She had napped before supper and yet still felt tired. Lately she couldn’t seem to get enough sleep.

She yawned behind her hand, wondering if she had the energy to read, when the doorknob turned, the door swung silently open, and Mason Holloway walked into her bedroom.

Elizabeth shot up from the stool. She was wearing only a white cotton nightgown, hardly proper attire to receive male visitors.

“What are you doing in here?” She reached for the quilted wrapper lying on the bureau, but Mason picked it up before she could reach it.

“I saw the light under your door. I thought you might be in the mood for company.”

“What … what are you talking about? It’s late, Mason. Your wife will be wondering where you are.”

“My wife has no say in where I spend my evenings.” Instead of leaving, he tossed the robe aside and walked behind her, settled his big hands on her shoulders and began a crude massage.

Elizabeth’s stomach tightened with revulsion. She knocked his hands away and whirled to face him, the movement making her dizzy, and she swayed a little on her feet.

Mason caught her arm to steady her. “Still feeling poorly?”

Elizabeth managed to pull free. “Get out,” she said, but her head was pounding and the words came out with little force.

Mason leaned toward her, bent his head and pressed his mouth against the side of her neck. His mustache brushed against her skin and her stomach rolled with nausea.

“You don’t want me to leave,” he said, his voice husky. “You need me, Elizabeth. You need what I can give you.”

Her stomach churned. “I’ll scream. If you don’t leave this minute, I swear I shall scream the house down.”

Mason laughed softly. In the light of the lamp on the bedside table, his eyes glinted with sexual heat. “Perhaps the time is not yet right. Soon though. Soon I’ll come and you will welcome me, Elizabeth. You won’t have any other choice.”

You won’t have any other choice. Dear God, the words rang with a certainty that made the hair rise at the back of her neck. “Get out!”

Mason just smiled. “Sleep well, my dear. I shall see you in the morning.”

Elizabeth stood frozen as he left the bedroom and quietly closed the door. Her head throbbed and the dizziness had returned. Sinking back down on the stool, she fought to steady herself and clear her head. She thought of Jared and the danger he was in and her eyes filled with tears.

She wasn’t safe in the house anymore and neither was her son. The time had come. She had to leave.

Ignoring the pounding in her skull, summoning her strength, as well as a shot of courage, she rose from the stool and hurried toward the bellpull to ring for Sophie, her ladies’ maid. A search beneath the bed made her nauseous, but yielded a heavy leather satchel she hefted up on the feather mattress.

A sleepy-eyed Sophie, dark hair sticking out all over her head, walked into the bedroom yawning. “You rang for me, my lady?”

“I need your help, Sophie. I’m leaving.”

The girl’s green eyes widened. “Now? It’s the middle of the night, my lady.”

“I need you to go upstairs and wake Mrs. Garvey. Tell her to get dressed. Tell her we are leaving straightaway and she needs to pack a bag for herself and one for Jared. Tell her to meet me downstairs at the door leading out to the carriage house.”

Beginning to pick up on Elizabeth’s urgency, Sophie straightened. “As you wish, my lady.”

“As soon as you’ve finished, go out to the stable and tell Mr. Hobbs to ready my carriage—the small one. Tell him not to come round front. Tell him I’ll come to him where he is.”

Sophie whirled to leave.

“And don’t tell anyone else I’m going.”

The little maid understood. Though she had never said so, she didn’t like Mason Holloway, either. She bobbed a curtsey and rushed out the door.

Ignoring a wave of dizziness, Elizabeth returned to her packing. By the time Sophie returned, she was dressed in a simple black woolen gown, her hair pulled into a tight chignon at the back of her neck, a crisp black bonnet tied beneath her chin.

“I need help with the last of the buttons,” she said to her maid, turning her back so that Sophie could do them up. As soon as the task was completed, Elizabeth grabbed her black wool cloak off the hook beside the door and whirled it round her shoulders. She swayed a little with the effort.

Sophie rushed forward, alarmed. “My lady!”

“I’m all right. Just promise you will keep silent until morning.”

“Of course. You can trust me, my lady. Please be careful.”

Elizabeth smiled, grateful for the young girl’s loyalty. “I’ll be careful.”

Heading down the servants’ stairs, satchel in hand, it didn’t take long to reach the door leading out to the stable. Holding two small bags, Mrs. Garvey stood next to Jared, who looked up at Elizabeth with big, worried brown eyes.

“Where are we going, Mama?”

Until that very moment, she hadn’t been completely certain. Now she looked at her son, felt a rush of dizziness, and knew what she had to do.

“To see an old friend,” she said, and dear God, she prayed that somewhere in the darkest part of his heart, he would find that in some small measure, it was still true.

Three

Reese awakened from sleep to a banging at his door. Frowning, he swung his legs to the side of the high four-poster bed and shoved himself to his feet. The pounding started again as he dragged on his dark blue silk dressing gown.

Grumbling, he grabbed his cane, crossed the bedroom and jerked open the door to find Timothy Daniels standing in the hallway.

“For God’s sake, man, what is it? Keep that up and you’ll wake the whole house.”

Timothy’s flaming red hair glinted in the light of the whale oil lamp he held in his hand. “It’s an emergency, sir. There’s a woman. She’s downstairs, sir. She says she needs to speak to you. She says the matter is urgent.”

“It is well past midnight. Why the devil would a woman wish to see me at this bloody hour of the night?”

“Can’t say, sir. But she’s here with her son and she seems overly distressed.”

Apprehension trickled down his spine. He had seen Elizabeth and her son two days ago. Surely this had nothing to do with her. Then again, he had never been a man who believed in coincidence. “Tell her I’ll be down as soon as I can put on some clothes.”

“Aye, sir.”

Timothy disappeared and Reese made his way over to the wardrobe. Unconsciously rubbing his leg, he jerked out a pair of black trousers and a white lawn shirt, sat down and pulled them on. As he tucked in his shirt, pain shot down his leg. Since he’d taken a chunk of grapeshot at Inkerman, it was stiff, but not completely. Once he began to walk on it, it usually loosened up. At this hour the blasted thing felt like a lead rod connected to his body.

Reese ignored it. As soon as he was dressed, he headed downstairs, wondering what sort of problem awaited him at this hour of the night.

Leaning on his cane, he took the stairs as fast as he could, reached the bottom, and looked up to find his tall, skinny, very dignified butler standing next to a woman dressed in black.

Time seemed to slow. He knew those finely etched features, the pale skin and raven-black hair, the perfectly shaped eyebrows and lips the color of roses. Images assailed him. Elizabeth in the garden of her home, laughing as she raced him to the gazebo. Elizabeth in his arms as they whirled around the ballroom. Elizabeth out on the terrace, her fingers sliding through his hair, her mouth soft and welcoming under his.

He straightened, met her gaze squarely. “You are not welcome here.”

She was trembling, he saw as she walked toward him, her movements as graceful and feminine as he recalled, a small woman, though she had never seemed so. “I must speak to you, my lord. It is urgent.”

He wasn’t used to the title. Major suited him far more, and it jarred him a little. He might have told her he had no time for a woman of such low character as she, but then he saw that she wasn’t alone. A gray-haired woman stood in the shadows next to the boy he had seen in the village, the boy who was Elizabeth’s son.

“Please, my lord.”

“This way.” He moved off toward the drawing room, limping only a little, hoping his harsh tone of voice would compel her to turn and leave. He walked into the drawing room and waited as Elizabeth moved past him, her full black skirts brushing against his legs. He closed the sliding door, making them private, but didn’t offer her a seat nor take one himself.

“It’s the middle of the night. What is it you want?”

She lifted her chin and he noticed her complexion was far paler than it should have been. She was fighting for composure and the realization filled him with satisfaction.

“I—I know you what you think of me. I know how much you hate me.”

He laughed without mirth. “You couldn’t begin to know.”

She bit her bottom lip. It was as full and tempting as he remembered and the muscles across his abdomen contracted. Damn her. Damn her to bloody hell.

“I came here to plead for your help. My father is dead. I have no brothers or sisters, no true friends. You are a man of honor, a veteran of the war. I am here because I believe you are not the sort of man to turn away a desperate woman and her child—no matter your personal feelings.” She swayed a little and beads of perspiration appeared on her temple.

Reese frowned. “Are you unwell?”

“I … I am not certain. I have been feeling ill of late. That is part of the reason I am here. Should my condition worsen, I am concerned for what might happen to Jared.”

“Jared? That is your son’s name?”

“Yes.”

She swayed again and he started toward her, using his cane only once as he crossed to where she stood and caught her arm to steady her. He was a gentleman, no matter how difficult at times that might be. “Sit down before you fall down.”

She moved forward, sank unsteadily onto the burgundy sofa, her black silk reticule falling into her lap. She reached a trembling hand to her temple, then looked up at him with the beautiful, haunting gray eyes that invaded his dreams. The memory of a thousand sleepless nights hardened his jaw and fortified his resolve against her.

“I am not the help you need.”

“There is no one else I can turn to.”

“You’re the Countess of Aldridge. Surely there is someone.”

Her hands gripped the reticule in her lap. “I intended to go to London. I might have tried to make it tonight if I hadn’t been feeling so unwell.” She looked at him with those beseeching gray eyes. “I believe my in-laws may be doing something to my food or drink. If my condition continues to worsen, my son may be in grave danger.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re speaking of Mason and Frances Holloway?”

“Yes. I’m afraid that even should I reach London safely, my brother-in-law will arrive within days. I’m afraid he’ll find a means of forcing my return to Aldridge Park. Once I am there …” She shook her head. “I am frightened, my lord. I am here because I don’t know where else to go.”

“What do you expect from me?”

“I suppose I expect that your honor will dictate you must help me. You’re a strong man, the sort who can protect my son. I suppose I am hoping that no matter what I have done, you will not be able to turn me out of your home.”

Anger simmered just below the surface. She knew how much he valued his honor. She knew more about him than any other person in the world. He worked to calm the angry pounding of his heart.

“I am afraid, Countess, you ask too much.” Purposely, he used her title, a reminder of all that had transpired between them.

“Elizabeth …” she softly corrected. “We are too well acquainted for anything more formal.”

A hard smile surfaced. “I suppose you could say we are well acquainted. Very well acquainted, indeed.”

For an instant, a flush rose in her cheeks, erasing the pallor, but she did not glance away. “Will you help me?”

He began to shake his head. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear having her in his house, under his roof. He couldn’t stand the painful memories.

She came up from the sofa, so close he could measure the incredible length of her thick black lashes.

A black-gloved hand settled gently on his arm.

“Please, my lord. I beg you not to refuse. My son needs you. I need you. You are the only person in the world who can help us … the only person I trust.”

The words hit him hard. She trusted him. Once he had trusted her. Reese stared at the beautiful woman standing in front of him. He had loved her once. Fiercely and without reserve. Now he hated her with the same unrelenting passion.

Still, he could read her desperation, her fear. As she had said, he was a man who valued his honor. She had come to him for help. How could he turn her away?

“I’ll have Hopkins show you and your party upstairs.” A harsh smile curved his lips. “I believe you remember where to find the guest rooms.”

She glanced away but relief washed over her features. “Thank you, my lord. I swear I shall find a way to repay the great debt I owe you.”

And then she collapsed at his feet.

“Corporal Daniels!”

Elizabeth stirred as Reese lifted her into his arms. Her mind was foggy, blurred. She blinked up at him, into the hard, carved lines of his face. “I … I’m all right. You don’t have to—”

“Daniels!” he shouted again and a brawny, red-haired young man appeared beside him.

“Yes, sir?”

Reese dumped her unceremoniously into the younger man’s arms. “I can’t carry her up the stairs—not with this damnable leg.”

Corporal Daniels looked down at her and smiled. “Rest easy, ma’am. I’ll get you there in a jiff.”

She had no time to protest as the young man swept her out of the drawing room.

“Mama!” Jared rushed forward as they entered the hall and grabbed frantically onto her skirts.

“I am fine, sweetheart. Just a little dizzy, is all. Bring Mrs. Garvey and come upstairs.”

Jared turned and raced back to where the older woman stood waiting and grabbed hold of her hand. The butler led the pair a few steps behind as the corporal carted her up the stairs. He carried her into one of the guest rooms and settled her carefully on the bed.

“I’ll fetch Gilda to attend you, ma’am. She’s the chambermaid.”

She didn’t protest. She still felt light-headed though the spinning had begun to slow. She rested her head on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. It was white while the walls were a soft yellow, pretty though the room could use a fresh coat of paint. The curtains were yellow silk damask, the furniture rosewood, recently dusted but in need of a dose of lemon oil.

She was staying at Briarwood. Reese had agreed to help her. She could hardly believe it.

And yet, in her heart, she had been certain, no matter his personal feelings, he would not turn her away.

He walked into the room a few minutes later, tall and masculine, the image of authority and strength. For an instant, she caught the glint of silver on the head of his ebony cane. She knew he had been injured. She didn’t know how badly he was hurt.

Icy blue eyes fixed on her face. “You are here—at least for the moment—and you are safe. I’ll have Corporal Daniels fetch the physician—”

“There is no need for that. I just need to sleep. Perhaps tomorrow …”

“You’re certain?”

She wasn’t the least bit certain, but she had already put him to enough trouble for one night. “Yes.”

“All right, we’ll wait until the morrow.”

“Thank you.”

“In the morning I’ll expect you to tell me exactly what is going on.”

She struggled to sit up, eased back until her shoulders rested against the carved wooden headboard. Reese made no attempt to help her.

“Tomorrow my brother-in-law will discover Jared and I are missing. Sooner or later, he’ll find out where we are.”

“As I said, as long as you are here, you are safe. Get some sleep. Your Mrs. Garvey is with the boy. We’ll talk in the morning.” Turning, he left the bedroom and Elizabeth realized how rapidly her heart was beating. Dear God, until that moment, she hadn’t realized how painful it would be to hear the sound of his voice. How difficult it would be to suffer Reese’s bitter dislike of her.

She hadn’t realized the feelings she had believed so deeply buried remained just beneath the surface.

She had to guard them, keep them carefully hidden away. If she failed, if she allowed the slightest crack in her heart, the pain would simply be too awful to bear.

The light of a crisp fall day streamed into the house as Reese made his way down the hall toward the breakfast room, a sunny chamber that overlooked the garden. With its creamy yellow walls and the chairs at the table upholstered in soft moss green, it was a room he enjoyed sitting in to read his daily newspaper and eat his morning meal.

Not today.

Today his mood was grim and had been since he had awakened from a restless night of sleep. As was his habit, he had been up for several hours, working in his study for a while then going out to check on his livestock.

Besides his big black gelding, Warrior—like Reese, a veteran of the war—he had, since his return, purchased several mares and a blooded Thoroughbred stallion. With his damnable stiff leg, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to sit a saddle again, but he had been working to stretch and retrain his muscles, and even if he couldn’t ride, he refused to give up his horses.

His latest purchase, the stallion, Alexander the Great, came from prize racing stock. Reese had seen him run and he believed the horse would sire colts capable of winning at Ascot and Epson Downs.

Still making his way down the hall, a noise inside the breakfast room drew his attention. As he walked inside, he saw Elizabeth and her son seated at the table, and his chest tightened at the sight of them there in his house.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly, and continued into the sunny room. The pair were enjoying a meal of sausages, creamed herring, and eggs, though Elizabeth didn’t seem to actually be eating, just moving the food round on her plate. She looked up at him just then and the gratitude in her eyes made his chest tighten even more.

It was merely his dislike of her, he told himself, and anger than she had embroiled him in whatever turmoil her marriage to Aldridge had created.

“Jared usually eats with his nanny in the schoolroom,” she explained a bit nervously, “but since the house is new to him, I brought him downstairs to breakfast with me. I hope you don’t mind.”

He looked at the boy, whose eyes were dark and round and clearly uncertain. He perched on the edge of his chair as if he might run. A small silver horse, a unicorn, Reese saw, sat on the table in front of him.

“I don’t mind.” He turned away from the child. It was hard to look at Aldridge’s heir and not feel jealous. The boy should have been his. Elizabeth should have been his.

But money and power had been more important than the promises she had made or her declarations of love.

Then again, perhaps she had never felt the least affection for him. Perhaps it had all been pretense.

“I’m done, Mama,” the boy said. “May I be excused?”

The child had stopped eating the moment Reese had appeared in the doorway. Elizabeth seemed to sense his distress and managed to smile. She looked paler than she should have and now he noticed her eyes seemed a duller gray than they usually were, without the faint blue undertones that made them so appealing.

“You may go,” she said to the boy. “I’ll be up in a little while.” Her gaze found Reese’s across the table, a little out of focus, he thought. “Perhaps his lordship will allow us to take a walk round the grounds. The trees are lovely this time of year.”

Reese merely nodded. He didn’t intend to punish the boy for the sins his mother had committed.

The child slid down from his chair, grabbed the unicorn, and hurried out of the breakfast room. Reese walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee from the silver urn on the sideboard. He’d been hungry when he walked in. Seeing Elizabeth there, looking like the wife he had once imagined, his appetite had fled.

As a footman picked up her half-full plate and whisked it away, he pulled out a chair and sat down across from her, leaning his cane against the edge of the table.

Elizabeth was staring out the window into the garden, which was completely overgrown, the plants sprawling over their low brick enclosures into the pathways, fallen leaves covering the ground. The gardener had quit before Reese’s arrival. There hadn’t been time since his return to hire another one but he vowed he would soon see it done.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A little better. I still have a headache but it is milder this morning.”

“Explain to me again why it is that you are here.”

She lifted the porcelain teacup with a trembling hand and carefully took a sip, giving herself time to formulate an answer. She set the cup a bit unsteadily back down in its saucer.

“I know your penchant for honesty so I shall not mince words. I can’t be certain, of course, since I have no sort of proof, but I believe Mason and Frances Holloway are giving me something to purposely make me ill. My son is heir to the Aldridge fortune. Should something happen to me, his guardianship would fall into their hands. My brother-in-law and his wife are ruthless in the extreme. I believe they are after Jared’s money.”

He had never liked Edmund or his brother, Mason. Edmund was arrogant and overbearing, and Mason was worthless and greedy. It wasn’t too far a stretch to believe the younger Holloway would go after his dead brother’s fortune.

“Go on,” he said simply.

She seemed to be fighting to concentrate, though he couldn’t actually be sure. “Several months ago, I began feeling slightly unwell. It wasn’t … wasn’t much at first, just headaches and a slight dizziness once in a while. Over the past few weeks, the symptoms have worsened. My memory has become affected. Sometimes things seem hazy, somehow out of focus. I believe my brother-in-law hopes, eventually, that I shall lose all sense of reality. I think he hopes I will withdraw completely.”

She lifted the linen napkin in her lap, straightened it nervously, and spread it once more across her full black skirt. “More and more, he tries to take control. He has even begun to … to behave … in a … a manner improper to his dead brother’s wife.”

Reese tensed. “Are you saying Mason Holloway has made unwanted advances?”

She swallowed. “Yes …” The sound whispered out as if she hoped no one would hear.

Anger flashed through him. Fury at Mason Holloway.

Reese was stunned. It was impossible he could be jealous. Ridiculous after all of these years. He took a deep breath, shoving the unexpected emotions away.

Elizabeth looked up at him. “I think Mason is trying to gain control of my mind and my body and in doing so, gain control of my son and his fortune.”

He replayed the things she had told him. He had no idea how much of what she was saying was true, but the way she had fainted dead away last night made him believe it was possible.

“Assuming what you’re telling me is true, how do you believe Mason is managing all of this?”

“I don’t … I don’t know. Some sort of drug, perhaps, laced into my food. I tried not eating for a while, but I began to feel weak and since I wasn’t certain if food was the problem or if I was wrong entirely, I gave up the notion.”

“And you never saw a physician?”

She swallowed, took a sip of her tea as if it fortified her somehow. She set the cup back down on the table, moving tendrils of curly black hair, loose from the knot at the nape of her neck, against her pale cheek. Beneath the table, his body stirred to life. His groin began to fill and Reese swore a silent oath.

He needed a woman, he told himself. A single trip to Madame Lafon’s exclusive London bordello had not been enough to ease a man’s needs after so many months.

“Mason brought someone in to see me,” Elizabeth continued, returning his mind to the subject. “A doctor named Smithson. He said I would be fine. I didn’t know him. I’m not certain he was a doctor at all.”

“My brother’s physician is reliable. I’ll have him here as soon as it can be arranged.” Reese waited to see if she would agree or if her purported illness was some sort of ruse.

“I think that is a good idea. I’ll be happy to pay him, of course.”

A thread of anger trickled through him. “You might be rich, Countess, but you are a guest here and as such under my care. I am hardly a pauper. Though I suppose compared to an earl it might seem so to you.”

“I didn’t mean—”

He rose from his chair, the legs grating on the polished wooden floor. Reaching down, he picked up his cane. “I have things to do. I believe your son is expecting you.”

Elizabeth said nothing, just sat there staring up at him with big gray wounded eyes. Reese turned away, determined to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt at his harsh words.

He owed Elizabeth nothing. Less than nothing, he told himself as made his way out of the breakfast room.

Four

Reese sent a note to his brother, Royal, that morning, asking him the name of his physician, a doctor who lived near Swansdowne, but leaving out the reason why. He knew all bloody hell would break loose if Royal found out Elizabeth was staying in Reese’s house.

She wouldn’t be there for long, he assured himself. He would see her off to London, perhaps as soon as tomorrow.

The doctor arrived earlier than he expected. At two o’clock that afternoon, a reed-thin, silver-haired gentleman named Richard Long walked into the foyer. Pleading another headache, Elizabeth had returned upstairs to bed. Reese escorted Dr. Long upstairs to examine her, introduced him to the wan-looking woman beneath the covers, then went down to his study to await the doctor’s verdict.

Reese tried to concentrate on the ledgers still lying on his desk, but as usual, his attention continued to stray. He told himself he wasn’t worried about Elizabeth, just anxious for her to get well enough to leave his house.

He was staring down at the numbers written on the page in front of him when a light knock sounded, noting the physician’s arrival. Reese beckoned him in and Dr. Long sat down in a brown leather chair on the opposite side of Reese’s big oak desk.

“How is she?” he asked, a question he couldn’t have imagined posing even a few days ago.

“Not well, I’m afraid. Lady Aldridge is extremely fatigued. She has started to perspire and I believe she may soon start vomiting. I left one of the maids upstairs with her.”

He ignored a thread of concern. At least she hadn’t been lying. She was ill, as she had said.

“The countess was quite candid with me,” Long continued. “She told me she believes someone has been drugging her and I believe she is correct in that assumption.”

Reese’s hand unconsciously fisted.

“I can’t say how the drug got into her system,” the doctor continued. “But her ladyship appears to be suffering from the effects of a continual use of laudanum.”

Laudanum. He understood the effects of the drug often administered to relieve pain. He had been given fairly large doses before and after the grapeshot was cut out of his leg.

“Little by little, she was slowly becoming addicted,” Long said. “Today she didn’t get whatever dose she usually receives, an amount her body has begun to crave. Until the drug is completely flushed from her system, she will have to endure the effects of the withdrawal.”

He fought to contain his temper. Elizabeth was being drugged and she had accused the man who was supposed to be her protector. Reese suppressed an urge to retrieve his saber and run it through Mason Holloway’s heart.

Of course he had no proof that Holloway was responsible. For all he knew, she could have been dosing herself. People often became addicted to the feeling of euphoria that accompanied the drug, which also relieved stress and pain—for a while.

“How much time will it take?”

“A few days, is my guess. From the symptoms she described, I would say the dosage has been small.”

“Probably why she couldn’t figure out how they were giving it to her.”

“Will you go to the authorities?”

“As you say, there is no way to know how the drug got into her system. Even Lady Aldridge can’t be certain who might be responsible.”

“You are aware that overuse of the drug can cause mind alterations and even death?”

“I am.”

“May I presume you will be aiding the countess in her recovery?”

He could barely force out the word. “Yes.”

“Then you will provide a safe haven until the matter is resolved.” The doctor’s dark eyes assessed him. Clearly the man was concerned.

Elizabeth would have to stay, but unless her visit was chaperoned, eventually word would leak out and the scandal of her living in a bachelor household would be enormous. For himself, he didn’t care, but there was the boy to think of.

“I’ll send word to my aunt. I’m sure she’ll agree to a visit while Elizabeth is recovering.”

Although he wasn’t completely certain. His great aunt Agatha, dowager Countess of Tavistock, had fiercely disapproved of Elizabeth marrying the Earl of Aldridge. Since she had no children of her own, she was wildly protective of her three nephews. And she knew how badly Reese had been hurt.

Still, he believed she would come, if for no other reason than to protect him from the woman she saw as the viper who had destroyed his life.

He might have smiled at the notion of needing to be saved from one small, dark-haired woman if he hadn’t remembered his body’s reaction to Elizabeth only that morning. Even now, as he recalled her lying in bed last night, his arousal pulsed to life.

He needed a woman, he told himself again, vowing to seek out female companionship as soon as it could be arranged.

In the meantime, he would do a little digging, see what he could find out about Mason and Frances Holloway and something of the life Elizabeth had shared with her husband.

It was the last thing Reese wanted to do.

Elizabeth lay trembling, her body bathed in sweat. Twice she had retched into the chamber pot the little maid, Gilda, had placed beside her bed. Laudanum, the doctor had said. He had told her she was suffering a withdrawal from the drug she had probably been receiving on a daily basis but that in a matter of days, she should be fine.

She had guessed it was something like that, though she still couldn’t figure out how they had been giving it to her. Probably lacing the fine white powder into her food. She had been right to leave, she thought as her stomach rolled, threatening to erupt again.

She was safe here, no matter Reese’s dislike of her.

She tried not to think how handsome he had looked that morning when he had walked into the breakfast room, tried not to remember the way her heart had madly started beating. She couldn’t help wondering if the light-headedness she had felt in that moment had been the drug or merely Reese’s presence.

From the instant she had met him all those years ago, he’d had that sort of effect on her. His aunt, Lady Tavistock, had made the introductions at a ball given in honor of Elizabeth’s seventeenth birthday. Her father, Charles Clemens, third son of a marquess, had hoped Reese’s older brother, Royal, heir to a dukedom, would become her suitor. But it was Reese who attracted her, the dark-haired, blue-eyed Dewar who was unaccountably sensitive and even a little bit shy in the presence of a marriageable young woman.

Another wave of nausea struck and Elizabeth reached for the chamber pot. If Edmund were alive and hadn’t eventually turned to other women to satisfy his urges, she might have believed she was pregnant, suffering morning sickness as she had when she had carried Jared. She wasn’t with child—she had been drugged, just as she had feared.

She fixed her mind on her son and how much he needed her and told herself she could survive the next few days.

Silently, she thanked Reese for setting aside his feelings and taking her and her son into his home.

The house no longer seemed too quiet, the way it had before Elizabeth’s arrival. In fact, lately, the place was overrun with people.

Along with Elizabeth and her son and the doctor who had returned several times, another visitor had arrived early that morning. Captain Travis Greer, formerly of the 1st Royal Dragoons, had once served under Reese’s command. At the battle of Balaklava, Greer had saved his life when Reese’s horse had been shot from beneath him and he had been left unconscious on the battlefield.

Captain Greer had, at great risk to himself, carried his superior officer to safety.

In the course of his actions, the captain had lost his left arm.

Reese owed him.

On top of that, they had become extremely close friends and he was damned glad to see him.

“Come in, man.” Reese welcomed Travis into the study, feeling the pull of a smile for the first time in days. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, as well, Major.” Travis had sandy brown hair and a square jaw, a muscular man whose features were softened by the small gold spectacles perched on his nose. He was an interesting, well-educated man, his mother a Russian ballerina, his father, the son of the late Sir Arthur Greer, a professor at Oxford University.

“I hope you don’t mind my stopping by this way,” Trav said. “I was heading back to London. I’d heard you were here. Thought I’d see how you fared.”

The men shook hands. Travis’s left coat sleeve was empty from several inches above the elbow. Reese suppressed a feeling of guilt. The injury wasn’t his fault. War was war. Men were injured. Travis had lost his arm. Reese had injured his leg. Both of them were lucky to be among the living.

“Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? Or perhaps you’d prefer some brandy.” Reese headed for the sideboard. He’d been working on the Briarwood ledgers for the last two hours. He deserved to take a break.

“Brandy sounds like a fine idea.”

Reese filled two crystal goblets and carried one over to his friend. “I thought you were living in Dorset. What takes you to London?”

Travis grinned. “Believe it or not, a job. I’ve been offered a column in the London Times. I’ll be doing a series of articles on soldiering and the war.”

“Which one?” Reese said dryly, since it seemed as if there was always at least one war going on.

Travis smiled. “Mostly the one we just fought, but also my thoughts on war in general.”

“Sounds like something right up your alley. You always wanted to be a journalist. Looks like you’ve finally got the chance.” Reese lifted his glass in a toast. “Congratulations.”

Travis lifted his. “Thanks.”

The butler, Hopkins, knocked just then.

“What is it?” Reese asked as the door swung open.

“A man named Holloway is here to see you, my lord.”

Reese’s jaw hardened. He’d been expecting Mason Holloway, sooner or later. “Show him into the drawing room. Tell him I’ll be right there.” He set his brandy glass down on top of his desk. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. This shouldn’t take long.”

Not bloody long, indeed, he thought as he grabbed hold of his cane and started out the door.

Mason Holloway stood up from the sofa as Reese entered the drawing room, a comfortable chamber though it needed a bit of care.

“My lord.” Holloway was a big man, tall, with a dark brown mustache and a slightly oily smile.

“Holloway.”

“I hope you will pardon my unexpected appearance in your home. I only just received word that my dear sister-in-law might be here at Briarwood.”

“She’s here. She and the boy.”

He gave up a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I had seriously begun to worry. It is not like Elizabeth to hie herself off the way she did. But she has been feeling unwell of late. At times, her thoughts seemed a bit jumbled, but I—that is my wife and I—neither of us expected anything like this.”

“Lady Aldridge was feeling a bit under the weather when she arrived, but I assure you she is now on the mend. In fact, she is feeling well enough to stay for a visit with my aunt.”

“Your aunt?” Mason repeated as if the words stuck in his throat.

“That’s right. Lady Tavistock is currently on her way to Briarwood and looking forward to seeing Lady Aldridge again after so many years.” That was a load of rot. Aunt Aggie’s note had been curt and to the point.

What could you possibly be thinking to allow that woman into your house? I shall arrive with all haste.

Your aunt Agatha

The phony smile slid from Holloway’s face. “Lady Aldridge and her son are best cared for at home. I have brought the traveling coach so that they may ride in comfort the short trip back to the house. Now if I may just speak to her …”

Reese flashed a feral smile, exposing the white of his teeth. “I’m afraid she’s asked that she not be disturbed.”

“That is ridiculous. I’m her brother-in-law and as such—now that her husband is gone—head of the family. I’m here to take her home. Please have one of your servants tell her to prepare herself to leave.”

Reese’s hand tightened around the silver head of his cane. “Elizabeth isn’t going anywhere with you, Holloway. Not unless that is what she wants to do. Neither you nor your wife are welcome here. Please take your leave.”

Any trace of civility left Mason’s features. “She belongs at home, Dewar. Sooner or later, I intend to fetch her back there—whether you like it or not.”

Reese thought of the six-inch blade concealed in his cane and his fingers itched to trip the button exposing it. He imagined using it to carve a warning into the flesh over Holloway’s black heart.

“Get out.” His glance strayed toward the stairway and he spotted his manservant, brawny Timothy Daniels, hovering protectively nearby.

“You’ll be sorry for this, Dewar,” Holloway threatened. “Take my word for it.”

Reese turned toward the stairs. “See Mr. Holloway out, will you, Corporal?”

“Aye, sir.” Timothy started toward him and Holloway turned and headed for the door.

“I’ll be back,” Mason said over one thick shoulder, and then he was gone.

“If you see him around here, Tim, be sure to let me know.”

“Aye, that I will, Major.”

Leaving Timothy to insure Mason’s departure, Reese returned to the study. Travis was still standing next to the desk when Reese walked back into the room.

“I couldn’t help overhearing,” Trav said. “You have a lady houseguest, I gather.”

Reese nodded. “The Countess of Aldridge and her son. That was her brother-in-law, Mason Holloway. Elizabeth’s afraid of him. She’s asked me for sanctuary. I couldn’t turn her away.”

“Elizabeth … That wouldn’t be the same Elizabeth you used to curse in your sleep? I seem to recall she married a man named Holloway.”

A muscle flexed in his cheek. “That’s her.”

One of Travis’s sandy brown eyebrows went up. “I see.”

“No, you don’t. You couldn’t possibly because I can’t figure it out myself. I only know she preyed on my honor as a soldier and I couldn’t refuse her request. She’s here until I can figure out what to do with her, then she’s on her way. It couldn’t happen soon enough for me.”

Travis looked as if he might say I see again, but wisely refrained. “Female problems. They’re always the worst.”

Reese lifted his crystal goblet and took a deep swallow of brandy. “You can say that again.”

Five

Several days later

Beginning to feel more her old self again, Elizabeth made her way up to the third floor where Mrs. Garvey and Jared shared adjoining bedrooms. The withdrawal symptoms had faded completely and though she still felt a little tired, she was ready to get out of the house, at least for a while.

She listened at the door a moment, then turned the handle and silently pushed it open. The bedrooms connected to a third room, a lovely little nursery she had admired when she had come to the house with Reese years ago.

At the time, she had imagined seeing their baby lying in the white-ruffled bassinet that still sat empty in the corner. When he had shown her the room, she had smiled up at him and told him what a wonderful father he would make.

The notion twisted her heart. If only her son had been raised by Reese. If only he’d had a loving father instead of one who was distant, even cruel. Jared had yearned for a father’s love, but Edmund had pushed the child away, treating him little better than one of his servants.

If only she had known what her life would be.

But her father had admired the young earl and he had been determined she have a title. Edmund will make you a countess. He won’t exile you to a life in the country while he goes off adventuring with the army.

It was only one of dozens of speeches he had made. In the beginning, she had simply ignored them, certain that in time she could convince her father to accept the man she loved, the man she had chosen to marry.

In the end, she had succumbed to his words, his dire predictions, and finally his unbending edict, and agreed to his demands. By special license, just a little over two months after Reese had left for London, she had married the Earl of Aldridge.

She closed her mind to what came next, looked across the nursery to where Mrs. Garvey read to Jared. He loved listening to stories and was becoming a very good reader himself.

“Mama!” He rose when he saw her and raced toward her.

Elizabeth lifted him into her arms. “Good morning, sweetheart.” She pressed a kiss on his forehead. “You’re getting so big. Soon I won’t be able to lift you.”

He smiled as she set him back down on his feet, always happy when she mentioned how big he was getting. She thought that in time he would grow into a tall, strong man, but at seven, he was small for his age, and withdrawing into himself as he often did made him appear even smaller.

“So what are you two reading?”

Jared looked over at his silver-haired nanny for an answer.

“It’s called Peter Wilson’s Journey,” Mrs. Garvey said with a smile.

“What is the story about?” she asked Jared, forcing him to speak when he would have kept silent.

“It’s about … about a little boy who finds treasure in his garden.”

Elizabeth smiled. “That sounds marvelous.” She glanced out the window. “I know how much you love stories but it’s so nice outside. Wouldn’t you like to come with me for a walk? I’m sure Mrs. Garvey would be willing to finish the story a little later.”

Jared’s solemn brown eyes looked up at her. “You aren’t still sick?”

“I’m feeling better every day. Come on, let’s go.” She reached out a hand and Jared clasped it.

“Have a good time,” Mrs. Garvey called to them, waving as they walked out the door.

They headed along the hall and down the back stairs. For the past few days while she convalesced, Elizabeth had been able to avoid seeing Reese. Every servant in the household knew of the confrontation Reese had had with Mason Holloway. Sooner or later she would have to thank him for his protection.

And his generosity in giving her asylum. Elizabeth wasn’t sure how much longer she could accept his grudging hospitality, but sooner or later, she would have to leave.

The thought sent a chill down her spine. She was stronger now, more able to deal with Mason and Frances, but also she knew that she had been right and that she and her son were still in danger.

Elizabeth pushed through the back door, out into the September sunshine. A soft breeze blew over the barren fields, but they were no longer empty as they had been for years. Men worked hoeing weeds and, in an old abandoned orchard, another group worked pruning trees.

Clearly, Reese meant to ready the place for spring planting. She knew he had been forced to leave the army because of his injury. Still, he had never been interested in farming. She couldn’t help wondering if he would actually stay.

She felt a tug on her hand and realized Jared was urging her toward the stable. Her son so loved horses. She let him lead her in that direction, pulling her into the cooling shade of the barn.

One of the horses nickered softly and Jared hurried toward the sound. A pretty sorrel mare stuck her nose above the door of the stall.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” he said with awe, careful to keep his distance. He’d been forbidden to go near any of the horses at Aldridge Park, but he often went out to watch them running across the fields.

“She’s lovely.”

“Look, Mama, she has a star on her forehead.”

Neither she nor Jared noticed that Reese and another man stood in the shadows until they started forward.

“I see you’re feeling better,” Reese said, stopping a few feet away.

A little knot of tension curled in her stomach. She prayed he wouldn’t make her leave, not until she was fully recovered. “Much better, thank you. I thought we might come out for a breath of fresh air.”

“This is my good friend, Captain Greer,” he said, making the introduction. “We served together for several years.” He was a man of medium height, square-jawed, with sandy brown hair and wearing a pair of gold spectacles.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Greer.”

“You, as well, my lady. The major mentioned you and your son were guests here.”

“Lord Reese has been extremely kind.”

Reese’s jaw tightened. He turned his attention to Jared, who stood statue-still in front of the little mare’s stall.

“You like horses, Jared?” Reese asked.

The boy merely nodded.

“Her name is Starlight. She’s a Thoroughbred. She’s going to be a mother.”

Jared’s eyes rounded. “She’s going to have a baby?”

“A colt, yes. The stallion, Alexander, is the sire. He’s that big red horse with the black mane and tail. You’ve probably seen him out in the fields.”

The boy nodded. “He can run really fast.”

“Yes, he can. Someday I hope to race the colts he sires.”

Reese returned his attention to Elizabeth. He had already said more to Jared than Edmund had said to him in the entire six months before the accident that killed him.

Reese’s brilliant blue eyes fixed on her face and her nervousness kicked up. “I—I didn’t realize you were out here. I hope we aren’t in the way. Jared loves horses. I didn’t think you would mind.”

He looked at the boy, who still watched the mare. There was such a look of yearning on Jared’s face, Elizabeth’s heart constricted.

Reese must have noticed. “She’s very gentle-natured. Would you like to pet her?”

Jared looked at him as if he were a god. “Could I?”

Reese took the child’s hand and led him closer. Reaching up, Reese rubbed the star on the horse’s forehead and softly stroked her nose. Then he lifted Jared up so that he could do the same.

The little boy very carefully stroked the mare’s head and nose. When Reese set him back on his feet, he smiled in a way Elizabeth had never seen before and a lump rose in her throat.

She hid a secret. A terrible secret she meant to carry to her grave. In that moment, she was no longer certain she could.

Jared raced back to her. “Did you see me, Mama? I petted her and she liked it.”

“I saw you, sweetheart.” She looked up at Reese and couldn’t stop a sudden mist of tears. “Thank you.”

Reese glanced away, his jaw hard once more. “I have work to do. If you will excuse us …”

“Nice to meet you, Lady Aldridge,” the captain said.

“You, as well, Captain Greer.”

She watched the men walk out of the barn, saw her son staring after Reese, and in that moment, she realized what a terrible sin she had committed.

Reese and Travis walked the fields. The first of October, he planned to do some plowing, just to churn up the soil and continue preparations for planting. In the spring he would plow again, then fertilize the soil, get it ready for seeding in April.

He meant to plant barley. His brother, Royal, was making wagonloads of money with Swansdowne Ale, which was rapidly becoming famous. The brewery sat not far from Bransford Castle, his brother’s home, on a piece of property at the edge of the village, and Royal was already making plans to build a second plant closer to London.

His brother needed barley to increase his production. Whatever Reese produced was certain to sell.

The thought did nothing to lift his mood. He had never wanted to be a gentleman farmer. He was only there now because he had promised his dying father he would come back and work the land he had inherited.

It was a promise he meant to keep, even if he hated every bloody minute.

So far, if he was honest with himself, being a member of the landed gentry hadn’t been so bad. In fact, he had begun to enjoy the peace and quiet of the Wiltshire countryside. No waking up to the sound of cannon fire. No riding for endless hours until he fell exhausted into his cot at night.

Watching the leaves turn red and gold and hearing the wind sighing through the trees instead of watching the men in his command dying in pools of their own blood.

Still, he missed the camaraderie, missed traveling to faraway places, missed his friends. He was glad Travis had stopped for a visit.

It kept his mind off Elizabeth and her son.

“Your Elizabeth … she’s extremely beautiful,” Trav said, pulling his thought back in that direction.

Reese’s stomach instantly knotted. He looked over at his friend. “She is hardly my Elizabeth. We are barely civil to one another. I told you, she is only here because she asked for my protection.”

“But she is beautiful.”

He gave up a sigh. “More beautiful, I think, than she was as a girl.”

They turned away from the fields and headed back toward the house. Reese made it a point to walk every day to exercise the muscles in his stiff leg. One day he meant to climb into a saddle, though he grudgingly admitted he wasn’t up to it yet.

“So what do you plan to do? About the woman, I mean?”

As they reached the top of a rise and looked down on the whitewashed, slate-roofed manor draped with ivy, he blew out a breath.

“I wish I knew. She isn’t completely recovered. Once she is, I imagine she’ll go on to London. She was her father’s only heir. When he died, he intended she would inherit his fortune, including the family mansion, Holiday House. As I recall, it’s quite a place.”

“Will she be safe there?” Travis asked.

It was a question he didn’t want to consider. An unwanted kernel of worry swelled in his chest. “I’ve sent a letter to an investigator named Morgan. Royal has used his services in the past. I’ve asked him to find out what he can about Edmund Holloway and his brother, Mason. Once Elizabeth returns to London, I’ll have him arrange some kind of security for her protection.”

“But still you are worried. I can see it in your face.”

He smoothed his features into blandness, but he and Trav had been friends too long to play games.

“Jared is still just a boy. Elizabeth is frightened for him. After my run-in with Holloway, I don’t blame her.”

“Perhaps they are better off here.”

His stomach tightened. Having Elizabeth there was the last thing he wanted. “For the time being, they are. My aunt is due to arrive any day. At least that will staunch any possible gossip.”

Travis smiled. “I’ve met your aunt. Lady Tavistock is quite something.”

The edge of his mouth curved. “She is definitely a force to be reckoned with. I don’t envy Elizabeth. Aunt Aggie considers her little better than a harlot.”

Travis chuckled. “It’s a definite coil. I’m glad I’ll be leaving before your aunt arrives.”

Reese tossed him a glance. “Coward.”

Travis just laughed.

They walked along in silence, Reese pondering his good friend’s words. Elizabeth and her son were in danger. Of that he had no doubt. He couldn’t stop thinking of the boy. Seeing him there in the stable gazing with reverence at the mare, he could have been Reese’s own son.

The notion had occurred to him, of course. There had been that single night, a fumbling, desperate coupling between two people who hadn’t meant for things to go so far. Looking back on it, he was sorry Elizabeth had suffered his amateurish efforts. She deserved a better initiation, not a bumbling attempt by a novice to the act himself.

He wasn’t that green lad anymore. During his years as a soldier, he’d had dozens of women. He had learned from skilled courtesans how to pleasure a woman and in doing so gain more pleasure for himself.

But that single night with Elizabeth, he hadn’t even spilled his seed inside her. He had known that much, at least. He had been determined to protect her, and his brother had unwittingly told him the way.

Jared wasn’t his, he was sure. His hair wasn’t black but a dark chocolate brown, the same deep color as his eyes. His features were softer, less carved than his own. His manner was different, as well. He was extremely withdrawn.

Reese had been a little shy as a boy, but neither he nor any of the Dewar brothers had been anything like Jared.

The boy belonged to Edmund Holloway and Reese couldn’t help wondering how soon after Reese had left for London, the earl had enjoyed the woman Reese had already made his.

Travis left the following morning, an hour before Aunt Aggie’s carriage pulled up in front of the manor. The weather had turned blustery and cold and his frail aunt leaned against him, the wind whipping her skirts, as Reese led her along the brick walkway toward the front porch.

She sighed as they entered the house out of the weather and Hopkins closed the front door. Shoving the hood of her cloak back from her gleaming silver hair, she smiled, resilient as always.

“You’re looking well, nephew, if perhaps a little strained.”

More than a little, he thought, with Elizabeth under his roof. “It’s good to see you, Aunt Agatha.”

She cast him a glance. He usually called her Aunt Aggie—much to her distress. “That desperate, are you? It’s a good thing I have come.”

He smiled as he settled her on the sofa in the drawing room, thinking how good it was to have her there, though he wished she couldn’t read him quite so well. “Thank you for coming, Auntie. As I said in my letter, Lady Aldridge has a son. It’s important her reputation be protected.”

His aunt merely grunted. “She didn’t seem to mind the scandal when she tossed you over for that no-good Aldridge.”

He tried not to smile. His aunt had always been prejudiced in her nephews’ favor and far too outspoken, even if he did agree.

“She and the boy are in danger. She asked for my protection and I couldn’t turn her away.”

She harrumphed this time, but didn’t argue. Though she might disapprove of the woman in his house, she would have expected no less of him.

“You must be tired from your journey,” he said. “Why don’t you go up and have a rest? Hopkins has already seen to your baggage. The housekeeper put you in one of the rooms overlooking the garden, though the grounds are a bit ragged yet.”

She released a tired breath. “I’m sure you will see to it soon, and yes, I believe a rest would suit me very well.”

Afraid he might not be able to see her safely upstairs, hampered as he was by his damnable leg, he glanced round for Timothy and spotted him hovering in the hall.

“See her ladyship up to her room, will you, Tim? The housekeeper knows which one it is.”

“Aye, Major.”

“What did you just call him?” Aunt Aggie lifted a silver eyebrow and Tim began to stutter.

“I—I meant to say, aye, your lordship.”

“That is far better.”

Reese just smiled. Things would be different while his aunt was around. As much as he liked her and looked forward to her visit, he would be glad when both women were gone.

“I’ll see you at supper,” he called up to her as she made her way toward the top of the stairs, leaning on Tim’s solid arm. Reese wasn’t worried about her. Tim would risk life and limb before he would let the old woman fall.

He smiled again. It felt good. He hadn’t smiled much since he had awakened in an army hospital bed, his leg hurting like blazes—unable to remember his name.

Then he spotted Elizabeth coming down the hall and his smile slid away.

Elizabeth jerked to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Traveling the opposite direction, Reese walked toward her, his blue eyes icy cold and fixed on her face.

“Good … good morning, my lord.”

“It’s closer to noon, but I’m sure that’s still early for you.”

She had been up for hours, but she didn’t say so. It didn’t matter what he thought as long as he let her stay. To that end, she had worked every day to stay out of his way.

“I was … I was wondering … I noticed your piano, the one sitting in the music room at the far end of the house. Would you mind terribly if I played it? I feel rather useless just sitting round here doing nothing. At Aldridge Park, I had begun giving Jared piano lessons. I thought perhaps I could continue.”

He just scowled. “Do what you wish.” Brushing past her, he headed down the hall to his study, where he usually squirreled himself away.

Unconsciously, Elizabeth’s hand came up to her heart. It was racing, she realized. Ridiculous. The man despised her. She had no reason to feel any sort of attraction to him.

Unfortunately, he had every reason to dislike her while she had no reason at all to dislike him. In fact, the more she was around him, the more she realized the terrible mistake she had made.

She had loved him so much.

If only she had been stronger. If only she hadn’t been so young.

But the past could not be changed. And her time here at Briarwood was limited. Soon she would have to leave for London.

At least in that regard, she had decided on a course of action. She would send Mason Holloway a letter, telling him she knew that he and Frances had been drugging her with laudanum in an effort to gain control of Jared and his fortune. She would tell him he was not welcome at Holiday House, her home outside London. Then she would hire guards to keep watch, to make certain Mason did not bully his way inside.

Once she had taken those actions, there was little more she could do. She thought that perhaps she would document the events that had occurred and what she had done to protect her son—just in case something happened to her.

Perhaps then, Mason and Frances would not be granted custody.

A shiver went through her. It was a worry that had no end.

Six

Reese heard melodic sounds coming from the music room at the far end of the house. Earlier, the jarring notes from the keyboard had been the clumsy efforts of a little boy. Now the enchanting melodies of Beethoven floated along the hall, pulling him like an inexorable force.

He reached the door and stood transfixed. In a room where most of the furniture was still hidden beneath white cotton covers, Elizabeth sat on the bench in front of the Streicher Vienna grand piano his grandfather had purchased, played, and loved.

It was built of flame mahogany, the legs ornate and partially gilded. Elizabeth’s eyes were closed as her pale fingers skimmed over the ivory keys. The boy was gone and she played for herself alone, played as if her heart filled every note. He remembered her playing for him all of those years ago, how the first time he had heard her play, he had fallen in love with her.

The rich chords of Beethoven held him immobile. He couldn’t have moved if the house had caught fire. She was smiling when she reached the end of the piece—until she opened her eyes and saw him.

Her features paled. Long seconds passed and neither of them spoke. Yet the air crackled between them, charged with an energy that heightened his pulse and made his breath quicken. The atmosphere grew dense and heavy, seemed to vibrate between them. His body stirred to life and arousal pulsed through his veins.

Her mourning dress was less formal, simple black bombazine with an inset of black crepe reaching all the way to her throat. Her raven hair was unpinned, clipped back on the sides but falling in dense curls down her back.

She was beautiful. More desirable than she had been as a girl.

His loins filled. Need poured through him. Inside his trousers, he was hard as a stone. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and kiss her. Wanted to drag her down on the thick Persian carpet and tear off her clothes, fill his gaze with the lush curves of her body.

Though they had made love that one time, it had been a quick, unsatisfactory coupling. He had never seen her naked as he longed to do now.

“Reese …?”

The sound came out low and throaty. She had called him by his first name as she hadn’t done before. His arousal strengthened. He found himself moving toward her, his bad leg cooperating for once.

“You play as well as ever,” he said as he reached where she sat. She rose from the bench, so close he caught the scent of her floral perfume, so near he could bend his head and capture her lips.

His brain warned him not to.

His erection throbbed, urging him to take what he wanted.

Her mouth was a dark rosebud pink, her lips full, perfectly curved and deliciously tempting. When she looked up at him and whispered his name once more, he was lost.

Bending his head, he captured her mouth and felt the warm press of her lips. They trembled slightly and he thought she might pull away, but instead those full lips softened, parted and he took her with his tongue. A soft mew escaped, half fear, half yearning. It stirred him even more and he deepened the kiss, took her without restraint.

He owed her nothing. If she accepted his advances, he would hold nothing back. He would show her the pleasure he hadn’t known how to give her before.

He caught her against him, pulled her close enough to feel his heavy erection. He felt her tremble, felt her weaken and sway against him the instant before she broke away.

Her eyes were big and round, more blue than gray, as if what had happened completely astonished her. She reached up and touched her kiss-swollen lips.

“You never … never kissed me that way before.”

He scoffed. “There are lots of things I didn’t do before. I was young and green and I was fool enough to believe we would learn those things together. I’m a different man now, Elizabeth.”

She swallowed. “Yes …”

“I’ll be happy to show you what I didn’t know before. I guarantee you will enjoy it.”

She paled. “I—I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just … I don’t know … somehow it just did.”

“You’re a widow. I’m sure you have needs. As I said, I’ll be happy to oblige you in any way you wish.”

Her chin went up. He had pushed her too far.

“I’m afraid you will have to excuse me, my lord. I need to check on Jared.”

He made no effort to stop her. In most ways he was grateful she was leaving. Silently, he cursed himself for his momentary lapse of judgment. What the hell had come over him? He knew better than to get involved with Elizabeth again.

Turning, he made his way out of the music room, trying not to think how much he wanted to kiss her again.

And so much more.

Elizabeth raced down the hall, willing her heartbeat to slow. Dear God, when she had come here, she had never imagined that Reese would want her. When they had been together, he’d been shy where women were concerned. He would never have pressed her for even a kiss if she hadn’t encouraged him.

That night in the carriage when they had made love, she had been the one to urge him on, the one who didn’t want to stop.

How could she not have realized he was a man now, no longer a boy? That he would want her the way a man wants a woman, no matter his dislike of her. And yet he had not forced her. He had done little more than kiss her.

And dear God, she had enjoyed it!

Just as before, she hadn’t wanted the kiss to end. Until those few heated moments, she had forgotten what it was to desire a man. Those yearnings had disappeared the day Reese had ridden off to London.

She had felt nothing for Edmund. Nothing but disgust.

Edmund had claimed his husbandly rights by force. It never occurred to him that a woman should take pleasure in the act. On their wedding night, Edmund had merely climbed on top of her, lifted her nightgown and thrust himself inside her. Their sporadic couplings had been painful and humiliating. She had grown to hate the sound of his footfalls in the room next door, the sound of the doorknob turning.

She had never thought to enjoy a man’s touch again, but today … today she had discovered that she was still a woman, and she was still vulnerable to Reese. That he could arouse the same forbidden desires he had before seemed impossible until today.

Now she knew the truth and it was terrifying.

Elizabeth lifted the black skirts of her simple mourning gown and hurried up the stairs. Last night she had avoided supper with Reese and his aunt, Lady Tavistock, who had arrived late that afternoon.

But the dowager countess had sent a request for Elizabeth and her son to join her for afternoon tea, a summons Elizabeth could not refuse. Her hand trembled as she opened the door to her bedroom. Her lips still carried the memory of Reese’s mouth moving hotly over hers.

Her heart still thrummed as she stepped into her room, closed the door behind her, and leaned against it for support. Thank God, she had time to collect her wits before the encounter with his aunt. An hour or so to erase Reese from her thoughts, which at the moment, seemed an impossible task.

She would manage somehow, she knew, use the hours ahead to regain control and begin making preparations for her journey to London.

After what had happened in the music room, the time had come.

Elizabeth had to leave.

Two hours later, dressed in a crisp black taffeta tea gown, Elizabeth held on to her young son’s hand as they made their way down the hall to a drawing room in the east wing of the manor. It was done in pale gray and white and Lady Tavistock, gowned in a blue silk gown trimmed with Belgian lace, sat on a yellow floral sofa across from the white marble-manteled hearth. A fire blazed there, taking the chill from the room.

The old woman made a slight nod of her head in greeting as Elizabeth and Jared walked into the chamber.

“Lady Aldridge,” the dowager said. “So kind of you to join me.” There was a bite to the words Elizabeth couldn’t miss. She had known this meeting would not be pleasant. The woman protected her nephews like the mother they never knew. She loved Reese, and Elizabeth had betrayed him. Lady Tavistock had every right to hate her.

Elizabeth dropped into a curtsey. “Good afternoon, my lady.” Next to her, Jared made the very formal bow he had been taught by his tutor. “May I present my son, Jared, Earl of Aldridge.”

The old woman’s watery blue eyes fixed on the boy. One of her silver eyebrows winged up as she assessed him. “Good afternoon, Lord Aldridge.”

Jared made the reply he had been taught. “Good afternoon … my lady.”

The dowager returned her attention to Elizabeth. “Why don’t you pour for us, Lady Aldridge?”

Elizabeth did as she was bade, pouring tea into cups while Jared perched nervously on one of the matching floral overstuffed chairs. She passed a cup to Lady Tavistock, then handed her son a small glass of fruit punch and a white linen napkin.

“There’s some sweet cakes there,” Lady Tavistock told him. “You like cake, don’t you, boy?”

He nodded, but didn’t reach for a sweet. Elizabeth placed several on a porcelain plate and set it down on the table beside his chair. A small hand reached out and grabbed one of the decorated cakes and he ate it in several polite-sized bites.

“He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

“He’s a little shy, is all. In time, he’ll grow out of it.” Though Elizabeth wasn’t truly sure. Jared wasn’t merely shy, he was deeply withdrawn, and she was worried about him.

Lady Tavistock looked as if she knew. She pinned him with a probing stare. “What do you like to do, boy? When you aren’t busy with your studies.”

The last bite he had taken seemed to stick in Jared’s throat. He swallowed and looked over at Elizabeth for help.

“Jared likes to—”

“I didn’t ask you—I asked the boy.”

Jared’s face reddened, and her heart went out to him. Lady Tavistock’s brittle voice softened. “I bet you like horses, don’t you?”

Jared looked up at her, caught her smile, and his shyness seemed to fall away. “I love horses. Lord Reese has the most beautiful horse out in the stable. Her name is Starlight and she has a star on her forehead and she is going to have a baby.”

Elizabeth could hardly believe her ears. Jared never said that much and certainly not to a stranger.

“Is that so?” the dowager said. “Maybe we’ll have time tomorrow to go out there and you can show me Lord Reese’s horse.”

“He has a lot of them,” Jared went on. “He has a big red stallion. He can really run fast.”

Lady Tavistock flicked Elizabeth a glance. “You’re a good boy, Jared.” Little more was said until Jared finished his cakes and fruit punch and asked to be excused. Lady Tavistock gave him permission. When he had left the room, Elizabeth looked over to see tears in the old woman’s eyes.

“I thought you heartless for hurting my nephew the way you did. Now I find you truly despicable.”

The color drained from Elizabeth’s face.

“Do you ever intend to tell him?”

Elizabeth couldn’t quite catch her breath. “I don’t … I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean. The boy is my nephew’s son. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on him.”

Her heart thundered. “You’re … you’re mistaken.”

“How old is he?”

She wanted to lie. She could say Jared was six. He was small for his age; she was certain Reese thought he was younger than he was.

“How old?” the countess demanded.

“Seven …” Her voice trembled as the word whispered out.

“I knew it.”

She only shook her head. “H-he isn’t Reese’s son. He looks nothing at all like Reese.”

“Not in a way everyone would notice. His features are softer, his hair more brown than black. The thing is, except for the color of his eyes, Jared is the spitting image of Reese’s father when he was a boy.”

A buzzing started in her ears. Her throat felt too tight to swallow. She had kept the secret for so many years. Had planned to keep it forever.

“I think our tea is finished,” the old woman said, rising from her chair.

Elizabeth rose, as well, her knees trembling beneath her full skirts. “What … what do you intend to do?”

The dowager cast her a drilling glance. “For the moment, nothing.” She started forward, stopped and turned. “But I warn you, the time will come. When it does, I shall do whatever is best for my nephew and his son.”

Elizabeth just stood there. For an instant her vision narrowed to almost black and she thought she might actually faint.

She steeled herself. The old woman knew. If she told Reese, Elizabeth could deny it and perhaps Reese would believe her.

One thing was clear. She had to stay at Briarwood at least a little longer. She needed time to think things through, decide what action to take. She needed to pull herself together before she faced the dowager again.

Fear crept through her. The truth would have to be told. The old woman knew her secret. Elizabeth could no longer keep silent. The old woman could destroy Jared’s life and Elizabeth’s own.

Sooner or later, she would have to tell Reese.

But dear God, not now. The room spun again and she made her way over to the sofa and sat down. Reese hated her already. She couldn’t bear the way he would look at her once he knew the true depth of her betrayal.

Somehow she had to convince the old woman to give her time to formulate some sort of plan, time to find the courage to speak to Reese.

Somehow she had to find a way.

He shouldn’t have kissed her. He had damned well known better. But he couldn’t have guessed the way it would feel to hold her again, to have her respond to him in the exact same manner she had all those years ago.

As if she belonged to him. As if she loved him still.

Reese swore foully. He had never known the extent of her cunning until now. She cared nothing for him, likely never had. She was using him, nothing more. She needed his protection. And though he had already given her that, he couldn’t help wondering how far she would be willing to go in order to keep it.

Crossing the room without his cane, more determined than ever to stretch and retrain the muscles that had been injured and inactive for so long, he yanked on the bellpull, summoning Timothy Daniels to help him dress for supper.

At least the evening should prove interesting, if more than a little taxing. Elizabeth and his aunt had taken tea together that afternoon. He would have liked to have been a fly on the wall during that conversation.

At least the ice had been broken. Perhaps supper would be a tolerable affair.

Dressed in black for the evening, Reese grabbed his cane and made his way past Timothy, who held open the bedroom door. He was the first to arrive in the anteroom leading into the formal dining room, where a table seating twelve had been set for three and a fire blazed in the huge, open hearth along the wall.

His aunt was the first to arrive, decked out in sapphire-blue silk, a strand of diamonds at her throat, looking every inch the dowager countess she was.

The old woman paused in front of him. “My, you do look handsome, even without that scarlet uniform the women so favored.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Aunt Aggie.” She frowned at the use of the name but he knew that secretly she was pleased. “You’re looking beautiful, as always.”

She waved her hand at the flattery. “Just like your father and brothers, you are. Full of the devil when it comes to the ladies.”

He laughed. He had forgotten how good she was at making him laugh.

Elizabeth arrived a few minutes later, gowned in crisp black taffeta, a circle of black pearls at her throat. Only a glimpse of her pale breasts showed above the modest neckline.

Reese thought how much he hated her in black.

“I hope I’m not late,” she said, her gaze going to the grandfather clock in the corner, returning to him then quickly darting away. Faint color rose in her cheeks and he knew she was thinking of those moments in the music room.

“You’re here just in time,” Reese said. “Shall we go in?”

Elizabeth cast a glance at his aunt, who drilled her with a glare down the length of her short, powdered nose. He offered Aunt Aggie his arm and she rested her small gloved hand on the sleeve of his coat for the short walk into the dining room.

He seated both women, his leg holding up amazingly well, then sat down in the high-back chair at the head of the table.

The first course was served, a nice hot rice and plover soup.

“So, what did you think of Lady Aldridge’s son?” he asked, hoping to ease some of the tension in the room and begin a semblance of conversation. The women’s eyes shot to each other across the table.

“He’s too shy,” Aunt Aggie said sharply. “Needs a man’s influence to give him some gumption.”

Elizabeth’s hand shook as she lifted her soup spoon, but she made no reply.

Reese fixed his gaze on her face. “Perhaps one day Lady Aldridge will remarry.”

She lowered the spoon back into her bowl. “That is never going to happen. One husband was more than enough.”

Aunt Aggie’s silver eyebrows shot up. “Is that so? Then you must have loved him greatly.”

Elizabeth’s pretty lips thinned. “Loved him? Marriage is one step away from bondage and I will never allow myself to be put in that position again.”

Aunt Aggie eyed her shrewdly. Very carefully, she wiped her mouth on the linen napkin.

“I see,” she said, and Reese couldn’t help wondering what exactly it was the old woman did see. One thing he knew, his aunt had an uncanny ability where people were concerned. In a single brief conversation, she understood more about a person than anyone he had ever met.

The meal progressed a little easier after that. During dessert, egg custard with a delicious raspberry sauce, he mentioned to his aunt that his best friend, Travis Greer, had stopped by for a visit and that he would be writing for the London Times.

“I only met him a couple of times,” Aunt Aggie said. “Before his dreadful injury, of course. Always seemed a nice enough sort.”

“He’s become a very good friend,” Reese said, not mentioning the man had once saved his life. The war wasn’t one of his favorite topics.

“He was very nice to Jared,” Elizabeth added, doing her best to hold up her end of the conversation.

“The boy craves a man’s attention. Any fool can see that.”

Elizabeth looked into her dessert bowl as if there were something of interest in the bottom. Reese gave her credit. Clearly, Aunt Aggie was at her irascible best. As soon as dessert was over, Reese led the ladies into the drawing room for an after-dinner drink and both of them seemed relieved.

“How about a sherry, Aunt Aggie?”

“Not tonight. I believe I’ll go on up to bed. Where is that strapping young man who helped me before?”

Timothy, of course, appeared right on cue. “May I be of assistance, my lady?” He had adopted his formal demeanor and Reese almost smiled.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Daniels.”

“Good night, my lady,” Elizabeth said softly, and received a brusque “good night” in return. Timothy led the dowager out of the drawing room toward the staircase, leaving Reese alone with Elizabeth, an occurrence he hadn’t expected.

Reese thought of the kiss they had shared in the drawing room and couldn’t help wondering what the balance of the evening might bring.

Seven

Seated on the sofa across from Reese, Elizabeth nervously sipped a glass of sherry. She still hadn’t figured out how she had wound up alone with Reese. During supper, she had mentioned the possibility of leaving Briarwood, but the dowager had staunched the notion with a warning glance.

If she left without telling Reese the truth about Jared, she was certain Lady Tavistock would see it done immediately.

She had to stay. At least for the moment.

Oddly, the decision stirred a feeling of relief.

“Another sherry?” Reese asked, and she realized she had drained her glass entirely.

“Thank you, no. I believe it is past time I retired upstairs.” She rose from her place on the rose velvet sofa, set the empty glass down on the table beside it.

“You seemed to have reached some sort of truce with my aunt,” Reese said, rising and setting his own empty glass on the table.

Hardly. Currently the old woman had Elizabeth entirely under her thumb, but of course she couldn’t say that. “Perhaps she has decided to keep an open mind. In time, perhaps she will see there are two sides to every story.”

Elizabeth prayed it was so. She intended to speak to the dowager on the morrow, try to explain what had happened all of those years ago.

Reese’s fierce blue gaze bored into her. “Are there two sides, Elizabeth?”

He was asking her to explain. She doubted he would understand. She didn’t entirely understand herself.

“My father refused to let us marry, Reese. He insisted I marry the earl.”

“Funny, I seem to remember you saying that you would gain his approval and you would marry me.”

She tried not to flinch beneath his cold regard. “We were never officially engaged. In time, I thought my father would give us his blessing. He refused. After you were gone, it wasn’t so easy to fight him. I wasn’t as strong as I am now.”

And I was pregnant and frightened and only eighteen. But she could hardly say that.

“And there was Aldridge,” he said darkly, “right there knocking on your door. Writing you poetry, always solicitous, always full of flattery.”

“He was nothing at all what he seemed. He fooled my father completely. At first he even fooled me.”

“Still, you are a countess, your son an earl.”

She looked down at her empty glass, wishing she had more sherry, wishing she had let him pour her some more. “I am wealthy in my own right. My father left his fortune to me. It is returned to me now that Aldridge is dead.”

“Lucky for you.” He had moved closer, she realized, and now stood right behind her. She could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck. “Have you thought about what happened in the music room?”

She swallowed. She could scarcely get those moments out of her head. Slowly, she turned to face him. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve never been kissed in that way.”

He frowned. “Surely Aldridge proved a satisfactory lover.”

Her stomach rolled. She couldn’t bear to think of the nights Edmund had pressed himself on her. “Please, I would rather not discuss my late husband.”

His hands came to rest at her waist. “You’re right, of course. I would rather discuss what might be arranged between the two of us.” She stiffened as he bent toward her, pressed his lips against the side of her neck. Gooseflesh raced over her skin and her heart set up a clatter.

“What … what are you doing?”

“I am kissing you, Elizabeth.” And then he did, his mouth claiming hers as if he had every right. He took her with abandon, a deep, drugging, possessive kiss that should have frightened her but instead left her light-headed and yearning.

The kiss deepened, grew more fierce. His tongue was hot and slick over hers and he tasted of the brandy he had been drinking. She couldn’t think, could barely stay on her feet. Her hands slid up the lapels of his black dinner jacket and she clung to him, breathed him in.

“You wanted me before, Elizabeth,” he whispered against her ear. “Apparently, you still do. And believe me, I want you.”

He held her so closely she could feel his powerful erection pressing against her. She should have been repulsed but she wasn’t. His body was lean and fit, his chest wide and hard, and the feel of his arms around her made her knees feel weak.

She forced herself to pull away. “You don’t … don’t even like me.”

He shrugged those broad shoulders. “Like has little to do with desire.” He leaned toward her, bent his dark head and kissed the place below her ear, and her stomach quivered.

“It’s obvious the attraction between us remains,” he went on. “You’re a widow. We could please each other, Elizabeth.”

She moved a little away, desperate to save herself. He didn’t like her, but he desired her. He was a man, after all, no different from any other. “I’m not … not interested in some illicit affair. I have a son to consider. And I refuse to be the victim of another man’s lust.”

One of his sleek black eyebrows went up. “That’s all there was? Edmund and his lust?”

Tears burned behind her eyes. She blinked them away before he could see. “I don’t want to think about it. Please, Reese …”

At the sound of his name and the plea in her voice, he straightened. He studied her a moment and she wished she knew what he was thinking.

“All right, if that is the way you want it. Just remember, the offer remains open. Think about it, Elizabeth. I can give you the pleasure he couldn’t.”

She only shook her head. She enjoyed Reese’s kisses, the featherlight touches that made her feel like the woman she had once been, but the thought of making love was utterly unbearable.

“I—I’ll be leaving here soon,” she said. “I haven’t got the arrangements entirely worked out, but I’m certain I’ll be able to see it done very shortly.”

Reese said nothing.

Elizabeth moistened her lips. “Good night, my lord.” His blue eyes darkened for an instant, before she turned away. Elizabeth hurried out of the drawing room, headed upstairs. She couldn’t wait to reach her bedroom.

And she couldn’t understand why Reese’s offer made the blood pump so furiously through her veins.

Reese paced the floor of his bedroom. The scene in the withdrawing room had been completely unplanned. But sometime during the course of the evening, watching Elizabeth beneath the glow of the candles, admiring the gleam of her raven hair, the pale smoothness of her skin, the subtle rise and fall of her breasts, desire had begun to burn inside him, along with the notion of having her in his bed.

He kept thinking of the kisses they had shared, remembering the way she had responded. He wanted her and apparently she wanted him.

He owed her nothing.

If he wanted her, why shouldn’t he have her?

Discovering how little she knew of passion made his desire for her even greater. Clearly, Edmund Holloway had been an inept lover. The sort of husband who took his pleasure and gave nothing in return. As Reese looked back on the kiss in the music room, he had sensed an innocence he hadn’t expected. It was there in her untutored kisses tonight.

He could teach her, give her the pleasure she had missed in the course of her marriage. And in doing so, relieve his need for a woman, unsatisfied since his arrival at Briarwood.

In a way, taking Elizabeth as his temporary mistress would be gaining an odd sort of revenge. He didn’t love her. Not anymore. But he desired her. More, perhaps, because he’d had her only once and had never gotten his fill.

He wanted her and she wanted him and only Elizabeth’s conscience stood in the way.

A hard smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Considering the ease with which she had jilted him for another man, whatever minor amount of conscience she possessed shouldn’t be much of a problem.

Shrugging out of his coat, Reese tossed it onto the bed. His leg throbbed as he walked over to the bellpull to summon Timothy and began to plan his strategy. He’d been an officer in the army. He knew how to mount a campaign.

With very little effort, Reese believed, he would have Elizabeth Holloway in his bed.

Elizabeth sent a note to Lady Tavistock, requesting a meeting at her earliest convenience. The dowager’s reply suggested they meet in the garden at two o’clock that afternoon.

Elizabeth paced nervously back and forth across her bedroom, wishing the time would pass. At one o’clock, she summoned Gilda to help her change into a walking dress and coif her dark hair. The chambermaid acting as her temporary ladies’ maid was tall and thin, with very curly blond hair. The girl didn’t know much about a lady’s toilette, but she was willing to do whatever Elizabeth asked.

Gilda opened the door of the armoire. “Which one, milady?”

Elizabeth bit her lip. Several days ago, she had sent Gilda to Aldridge Park with instructions to get Sophie’s help in packing more of Elizabeth’s clothes. Once she reached London, she would send for Sophie, who had been her maid for years. Until then, she needed a few more things to wear than she had been able to carry in the satchel with which she had escaped.

She studied the gowns in the armoire. All of them were black, of course, but at least the styles were different.

“Perhaps the one with the pagoda sleeves.” She shook her head. “No, I think the silk and crepe with the bodice that buttons up the front would be less formal.”

The girl laid the gown out on the bed, walked over and tightened Elizabeth’s stays, which had been loosened while she rested after lunch. Gilda helped her into the several layers of black petticoats that held out her full skirts, then helped her fasten the black silk buttons on the front of the gown.

Elizabeth turned toward the mirror. She wasn’t as pale as she had been when she had arrived, but it didn’t really matter. She hated the way she looked in black.

One more bad mark against Edmund for dying and forcing her into mourning.

One good mark that he was finally gone from her life.

She sat down in front of the dresser and Gilda worked to smooth her heavy curls into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. Satisfied she looked proper enough to face Reese’s aunt, she rose and started for the door.

“Thank you, Gilda. I shall not need you until an hour or so before supper.” At which time, she would put on a different black shroud, one that at least allowed a portion of her bosom to show and displayed a bit of femininity.

She tried not to wonder if Reese would look at her as he had last night after supper. She could still feel the heat of his gaze as it settled on the hint of cleavage between her full breasts. She had never been slender, not even as a girl, but after birthing Jared, her bosom was fuller, her hips more curvy. Reese seemed not to mind.

The thought made her skin feel moist and a trickle of warmth slid into her stomach. She had to stop thinking of him, she told herself as she made her way down the staircase, had to stop thinking what it might be like to let him kiss her again, hold her in his arms.

Instead, she focused on her meeting with the dowager countess. Her greatest concern was her son. She had to find a way to protect him.

Elizabeth crossed the brick terrace and descended the few steps into the garden, which was heavily overgrown. The entire house needed a good thorough cleaning and overall polish. But Reese was a bachelor, and caring for the charming old manor house was a task only a woman could see fully accomplished.

For the next ten minutes, she wandered the gravel pathways, her slippers crunching on a colorful array of fallen leaves. Another set of footsteps sounded on the path behind her, slower, more hesitant, and she knew the dowager countess had arrived.

Elizabeth turned to see the old woman in a gown of apricot silk warmed by a light, matching pelisse moving slowly along the path, leaning heavily on her cane. Without thinking she hurried to help her.

“Why don’t we sit right here?” she suggested, easing the old woman down on a wrought iron bench.

“Thank you,” Lady Tavistock said stiffly.

“I appreciate your seeing me.” Elizabeth took a seat on the opposite end of the bench. The air was crisp and cool but not cold, the wind not more than a whisper.

“It would seem we have a good deal to discuss.”

“Yes …”

“I rarely make mistakes in judgment, you know. And yet I made one with you. I knew my nephew was in love with you. There was a time I believed you were deeply in love with him. I was wrong. If you had loved him, you never would have hurt him the way you did.”

Elizabeth’s heart clenched. How could she possibly explain? “I understand the way you feel, my lady. You think I abandoned Reese and married Aldridge for his money and title. It wasn’t so. I loved Reese. I wanted to marry him more than anything in the world.”

She stared at her lap, the sun beating down on the heavy black folds of her skirt. She looked up at the dowager countess. “Then I found out I was going to have a baby.” She swallowed against the memory. “I was terrified. When my father found out, he was beyond furious.”

“I remember your father had a temper. I never thought he would hurt you.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. He never struck me. He simply … my father ruled me. Mother was dead. I did whatever my father commanded. I can’t remember a time I ever disobeyed his wishes.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell Reese about the child?”

Even now the memory was painful. “Father forbade me to have any further contact with Reese. He said he had dishonored me and he was never to come near me again. I wasn’t as strong as I am now. I wasn’t able to fight him. I did what he told me to do.”

The older woman looked at her askance. “And Aldridge’s charm played no part in your decision.”

“Not his charm, no. Perhaps the safety he offered in giving my unborn child his name. He was older, more settled, and he was there, not off somewhere adventuring. The decision itself was never truly mine. I married Aldridge, as my father insisted. And I regretted it every day of my life.”

The countess leaned back against the iron bench. Beneath her shrewd regard, Elizabeth fought not to squirm.

“My nephew says you came here because you feared for yourself and your child, but perhaps you had a different motive.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps you came here to resume your relationship with Reese. Do you intend to lure my nephew back into your clutches?”

“No! I came here because I was desperate. I knew my son was in danger. My family is all gone. Reese was the only person I could trust.”

“Because he is Jared’s father?”

“Because he is a man of honor and strength and I believed he would not turn us away.”

The countess seemed to weigh Elizabeth’s words. “When will you tell him?”

Elizabeth stared off into the distance. She had no idea how to tell Reese a secret so profound. A secret that would turn his dislike of her to hate.

“I need time. I don’t know what he’ll do. I don’t know what will happen to my son once Reese knows the truth.” Tears collected in her eyes. “Jared is already so withdrawn. He is too young yet to understand his true parentage. I’m afraid if the information is handled wrong, it could destroy him completely.”

The dowager said nothing for the longest time. “The boy’s well-being is the most important concern. This wasn’t my business until you came here. Now it is. I’ll give you the time you need. I’ll give you a chance to figure out the best way to handle the matter, but I won’t let you deceive Reese forever.”

Her stomach tightened. She couldn’t imagine the enmity Reese would feel once she told him the truth.

A lump rose in Elizabeth’s throat. “In my heart I knew when I saw them together that sooner or later I would have to tell him. I give you my word that I will. Until then, you have my heartfelt gratitude for giving me the time I need to try to make this right.”

The old woman rose shakily from the bench. “As I said, for now, you may do as you wish. But I warn you, do not test my patience too long.” Leaning heavily on her cane, Lady Tavistock made her way along the gravel path, up the brick steps and across the terrace. She disappeared inside the house and Elizabeth sank back down on the bench.

For now she had the old woman’s cooperation. But dear God, how long would it last?

And how could she explain to a little boy that she had lied to him about the man who was his father?

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