The days ambled along, each bringing a wealth of discoveries. Mary began to understand her husband’s true devotion to Pembrook. He began each morning with a leisurely ride over his domain. She often joined him. He spoke with the tenants. He assessed the possibilities for future income. He noted areas where improvements were needed.
He was much more comfortable here than in London.
He’d even been relaxed when they’d visited her father. But more important, Sebastian had managed to put the earl at ease. Before they left, her father took her aside to inform her that she’d married a good man.
Of that, she had no doubt.
Mary stood in the garden, taking delight in the new gardener’s efforts. Her father had been more than willing to let the young man go. He had also offered her half a dozen other servants, children to his longtime staff members who he’d simply never found the heart to relieve of their positions. But he had no need of them. She found a good deal of work for them to do here.
From her place near the hedgerow, she could see the stables, could see Sebastian talking with the head stableman and pointing out various horses. The recent arrivals—Tristan’s gift—had come thundering in this morning. Sebastian had removed his jacket earlier and rolled up his sleeves to inspect each animal. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. She’d give him that. She couldn’t recall her father ever taking so much interest in the managing of his estate. He had overseers. They gave him reports. But Sebastian spoke with all the servants, issued orders, listened to their ideas. He wanted Pembrook returned to its former glory.
Not nearly as many tenants still worked the land but they provided the estate with a comfortable income. His other estates fared much better. Unlike Fitzwilliam, he did not need her dowry.
In spite of the tragic history that surrounded this place, he was at home here. She enjoyed watching him striding over his property. It was her true purpose in being outside when the gardener was perfectly capable of determining which type of flower should be planted in which spot. Sebastian loved Pembrook with all that he was, devoted himself to it. She tried not to resent that he wasn’t as devoted to her. She truly had no cause for complaint.
He came to her every night. Usually he stayed with her until dawn. But some nights he was restless and would return to his bedchamber so as not to disturb her. Her assurances that she was not bothered did not sway him to stay. On those nights she would hear him call out. She wanted desperately to go to him, but she knew he wouldn’t welcome her witnessing his nightmares.
“Your Grace.”
She turned and smiled at the butler. “Thomas.”
“The post has arrived. You and the duke each received a letter. I thought they might be important.”
She took the envelopes he offered. He had already slit them open, but she didn’t question if he’d read them. She knew he wouldn’t dream of encroaching on his lord’s and lady’s privacy. “Thank you.”
He glanced toward the stables. “It is good that His Grace is home.”
“Yes, it is.”
“If I may be of further service regarding the letters, let me know.”
He strode back toward the manor. Mary smiled as she saw the letter addressed to her was from Alicia. She slid the paper from the envelope and began to read.
My dearest cousin,
I hope my letter finds you well and extremely happy in your marriage. I have a bit of news. Lord Fitzwilliam has asked for my hand in marriage. I have said yes.
I know this must come as a surprise to you, but I rather fancied him for some time and thought you the luckiest of girls to have snared him. I cannot tell you how happy I am since he began to court me. He has written me lovely poetry and sends flowers every morning. He has even managed to sneak in several kisses. He is quite talented in that regard.
Forgive me for carrying on so, but I am so happy that I wish to share it. I am terribly sorry for the scandal that forced your parting ways, and you must believe that I took no role in the spreading of the awful gossip. I took no glee from your troubles, but I must confess that I was delighted when he was placed back on the marriage mart. I have prayed every day since that I would be forgiven for taking joy in your calamity.
I hope you will be happy for me, dearest Mary. I have always fancied boiled eggs. I wish you only the best and hope you are very happy with your Christmas pudding.
My love always,
Your cousin Alicia
By the by, Mama sends you her love.
It was the stableman, Johnson, squinting at the distance that had Sebastian turning. Mary was trudging toward him. He despised his limited vision. If she’d been approaching from the other side, he’d have seen her. But now having seen her, he knew something was amiss.
“Finish up here,” he ordered. He was grateful for his long legs that ate up the distance between them. As he neared, she smiled at him but something about it was off.
“Walk with me,” he said.
Mary fell into step beside him.
“Are you pleased with the gardener?” he asked.
“Yes. We shall have an abundance of color come spring. We were discussing possibly building a greenhouse so we could have flowers in residence all year.”
“If it would please you, we shall do it.”
“Do you not even wish to know the cost first?”
“I can fault my uncle with many things, but he was not a spendthrift.”
“Then why kill those in line for the title?”
“Prestige, power. Maybe even love. Men do horrendous acts for all sorts of reasons.”
They walked along in silence for several moments before he dared to ask, “What’s troubling you?”
“Why would you think something is troubling me?”
“Mary, I know your moods.” He put only the smallest bit of impatience and chiding in his tone.
She sighed, continued walking while the tall grass rustled against her skirts. “I received a letter from Alicia. Fitzwilliam asked for her hand in marriage and she agreed.”
“This troubles you?”
She stopped but kept her gaze focused on the hills. He stepped in front of her, forced her to raise her eyes to his.
While his gut churned and he wasn’t certain he wanted to know the answer, he asked, “Are you regretting that you’re not married to him?”
A look of surprise crossed over her features and she released a light laugh. “Oh, no. That thought had never occurred to me. No, it’s Alicia I’m worried for. I feel as though she’s acquired a hand-me-down beau. She deserved to be the first person that someone asked to marry.”
“By that reckoning I suppose you’re a hand-me-down.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, dear Lord, I hadn’t even considered that. Sebastian, do you doubt that I want to be your wife?”
“Should I?”
“No. Just because someone else asked first and I said yes, doesn’t mean that when you asked I wanted to say no.”
“Perhaps it’s the same with your cousin. She had a choice—if she didn’t fancy him.”
Which was more than you had, he thought. If Mary hadn’t agreed to marry him, what sort of life would she have had?
She gave a brisk nod. “You’ve made a very keen observation there. It’s quite possible that he has a care for her. She said he sneaks in kisses and that he’s rather good at it.”
“Sneaking or kissing?”
She laughed. He so loved her laughter and he’d heard so little of it since his return.
“I’m not sure. The kissing I suppose. I don’t really know, because he never kissed me.”
“Never?” What sort of jackanapes was he?
“No. Even when he had the opportunity, when we were alone—”
“When were you alone?” Dear God, was that jealousy he was experiencing? No, of course not. She was with Fitzwilliam. Now she was with him. He had no cause for jealousy.
“I went to see him, to question him about the awful rumors. Come to think of it, he was in his library and he appeared rather pensive. I wonder if he was beginning to have doubts about our marriage then.” Her eyes widened. “Her dowry is not as large as mine and he told Father he wanted a large dowry. Do you suppose he welcomed the excuse to break it off? The cad!”
He heard a strange sound echoing around him, and realized it was him, laughing. With a smile as bright as the sun, she pressed her hand to his throat.
“I feared I’d never hear that sound again.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“Don’t you dare weep.”
She swiped at them. “I just . . . I’ve missed it so much. What did I say to make you laugh? I’ll say it again.”
“You want your cousin to mean something to him and when you think perhaps she does, you consider him a scapegrace.”
“I can’t have it both ways, can I?”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“I want her to be happy.”
He cradled her face. “Are you, Mary?”
Instead of answering, she rose up on her toes and kissed him. He snaked an arm around her and drew her closer.
He remembered Rafe’s question: would he cheat to lose or cheat to win?
Did she kiss him because she was happy or to distract him from the answer that she wasn’t?
When she drew back she gave him a soft smile, then her eyes widened. “I forgot. You received a letter as well.”
She handed it over to him. He removed the paper from the envelope and read it.
Sebastian,
Bad news I’m afraid. Upon my return to London, I discovered Rafe had been attacked by three ruffians near your residence. He is recovering nicely from a bullet he took to the leg. I discovered that our brother is a nasty bit of work. He apparently dispensed with two of the fellows rather quickly and coerced the other into describing the man who had hired them before sending that fellow to hell as well. If he isn’t Uncle, he’s his twin.
Due to his injuries, Rafe was unable to confront Uncle straightaway. I immediately saw to the task. Unfortunately Uncle has secreted away from the boarding house. Rafe’s man who was keeping watch did not see him leave after Uncle returned from a pub one night deep into his cups. Or so the watchman thought. He did see an old woman depart with a satchel later that night. But when I questioned the young woman who runs the house, she informed me that no elderly people—save Uncle—resided there.
I know your first inclination will be to come to London straightaway, but rest assured Rafe is well on his way to recovery. You can accomplish nothing here. See to your duties at Pembrook. I will continue to search for Uncle until I can find his trail.
Watch your back, Brother.
—Tristan
Sebastian crumpled the letter. “Damnation!”
“What is it?” she asked, clutching his arm, worry marring her features.
“Uncle tried to have Rafe killed. I’ve been wasting the day away admiring horseflesh when I should be searching for some evidence of what Uncle put into play all those years ago. I must redouble my efforts. Focus on proving him guilty of killing Father, of intending to kill us.”
Damn it! He had failed to protect Rafe once more. He was almost to the house when he realized that Mary hadn’t followed him. “Saunders!”
The man looked down at him from a parapet. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“My wife is not to be left alone on these grounds. Find her. Escort her to the residence.”
He pushed through the door and headed to his study. Nothing was more important now than destroying his uncle. The man was determined not to give up. He was about to discover that his nephew could be equally determined.