Chapter Three
Clad in well-tailored gray long pants, a powder-blue waistcoat, and dark-blue coat, Jonathon looked every inch the lord he was born to be. Isabel had known he’d be here. How could he not? And still she’d accepted the invitation to yet another wedding. The marriage of the Earl of Windenshire to Miss Miranda Beauchamp at their county estate. Isabel wanted to see Jon, but perhaps a wedding with love in the air had been the wrong venue. Steeling her shoulders, she raised her chin a bit higher and walked toward the married couple to wish them well.
“Miss Hathaway, I am so glad you made it.” Miranda, the new Countess of Windenshire, beamed with happiness.
Isabel swallowed past the lump of jealousy in her throat. “Thank you for inviting me, Lady Windenshire.”
Miranda giggled. “That still sounds so strange.”
“Strange? You have spent your entire life preparing to hear it, and now that you have, it’s strange to your ears?” The earl rolled his eyes but leaned in to kiss her temple in a display of pure love.
“Good morning, Lord Aunton.” Isabel offered Jonathon a polite nod.
He gave her a cold bow but hadn’t cut her direct, so she claimed that a win. The bridal couple excused themselves, leaving them alone, or as alone as two people could be in a crowd. “How are you?”
“Do you really care, Izzy?” He glared at her. “My understanding was you would prefer to never see me again.”
“I….” She would have said something, wanted so desperately to say anything, but her attention moved to the presence of the tall Duke of Foxhaven heading their way, followed quickly by the Marquis of Breckinridge, whose tight jaws and furrowed brows alerted her all was not as it should be. “Jonathon, something is wrong.”
He turned and froze as the other two approached. “Jonathon, come with us please.”
“What is it?” he asked but followed. Although she didn’t belong nor did they have any relationship, she followed. Jonathon introduced her. “You know Miss Hathaway. Her family owns the lands that border my father’s.”
“A pleasure to see you again.” Foxhaven offered her a brief forced smile before turning to his friend, gripping his arm. “Jonathon, a messenger just arrived. You’ve been called home.”
“Home?” He reached for her, and she offered her hand. “My brothers?”
“As far as we are aware, your brothers are all fine. Jonathon, it’s your father. They say he doesn’t have much time.”
“Your horse is being saddled as we speak.” The marquis put a chair behind Jonathon and pushed him into it. “Your saddlebags are being packed. What else do you need?”
“Nothing. I’m just in shock. I haven’t been home in years.”
“Perhaps the kitchen could put together a food basket,” Isabel suggested.
“Good idea. Would you see to that?” the duke asked. “We will get you around the far side of the house, Jonathon, so you don’t have to answer any questions. None of them need to know anything yet.”
Jonathon covered his eyes and swayed. “I can’t tell if I am still hungover or in shock. Perhaps I shouldn’t have had so much brandy last night.”
“Why don’t you have my carriage brought around. I can take him home,” she offered. “My footman can ride the horse behind us.”
“That might be for the best. Jonathon?” The marquis nodded.
“Fine,” he mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck.
If he was agreeing to spend hours in a confined coach with her, then he was in shock. “Let me find my maid. I’ll meet you in the back of the house.”
“He’ll be ready when you come down.” Foxhaven pulled her to a halt. “Speak to no one but your maid. This is not word that needs to get out. Not today.”
She moved through the crowded room, smiling and pretending all was fine. Up in the rooms she had been given, she found her lady’s maid brushing out one of her gowns. “How long will it take for you to pack us up?”
“Ma’am?”
“The old earl is dying. We need to get his son home post haste.”
“With the help of some other maids, we can be packed up in less than half an hour.”
“Very well, but say only that I have been called home. After I speak to the kitchen about some provisions for the road, I will have footmen assist you with the wardrobe cases.”
In thirty-five minutes, the door to the carriage closed behind her. Jonathon sat staring out the window, but she suspected he didn’t see anything. If everything went well, they could be home by nightfall. He refused any food or conversation, but when she placed her hand on his knee, an intimate gesture that her maid ignored, he gripped it within his own. No matter how much he disliked his father, finding out the old man was dying might have come as a shock. Was he ready to take over the earldom, and what issues did he face?
As the moon crested the horizon, casting a pale glow over the countryside, her carriage pulled up the rocky unkempt drive of his family estate. They’d made good time. Stopped only to freshen the horses and to allow everyone to stretch their legs. The two inns supplied them with fresh food, but other than the little amount her maid had eaten, the food had gone mostly untouched. With the exception of a small candle burning in the upstairs window, the house appeared deserted. “May I ask one more favor of you?”
“Anything.” Right now, she would allow him whatever he needed.
“My horse. There is no suitable place to stable him for the night.”
He couldn’t know how true his words were. The stables had been in bad shape when he’d left home all those years ago, and the disrepair hadn’t gotten better. In fact, she had heard rumors the roof had fallen in at the last snow. “Say no more. We will take him home. You can have someone pick him up whenever you are ready.”
“Thank you.” He nodded to the maid and exited down to the ground. He paused before throwing his saddlebags over his shoulder as if steadying himself for what was to come.
Unsure what to do, how to help, she blurted out, “Take the baskets of food.”
“I couldn’t.”
She pushed the baskets toward him. “For your brothers.”
She watched as he stared at the hampers and eventually gave in. Who knew how long it had been since anyone in the house had had a good meal? Her coachmen brought the baskets to the front door as it opened, and Peter, the youngest of the brothers, came running out and threw himself at Jonathon. “You’re home.”
“Peter, this can’t be you.” Through the playfulness, she could hear the pain of not seeing him for so long. “Why aren’t you at school?”
“I haven’t been to school this year.” His thin shoulders shrugged.
“I see.” He looked at her over the blond head of the young boy.
Within seconds, two more brothers came into the doorway, including the second eldest who could pass almost as Jonathon’s twin. Gabriel reached out and pulled Jonathon into an embrace.
“I got here as soon as I could.”
Gabriel looked up, his eyes going wide. “With Miss Hathaway?”
“She volunteered to see me here.”
“We happened to be at the same event.” She got the distinct impression Gabriel was uncomfortable with her presence on their property. “Please, send a message if you need anything.”
Jonathon bowed, the weight of his situation etched into his face before a mask fell into place. “Thank you again, I appreciate…everything.”
Jonathon watched until the carriage rolled out of sight. “Peter, take the food into the kitchen, will you?”
“What’s in here?” The little boy’s stomach growled, and fury filled Jonathon again. “Patrick, come and see. Jonathon brought food.”
“I guess food is far more exciting than you.” Matthew, the middle brother, chuckled. “I’m relieved to have you home.”
“This isn’t my home. Where is the earl?”
“In his bedchamber.” Gabriel waited until the younger boys were out of earshot before continuing. “I don’t think he will make it through the night. Perhaps he has been waiting for you.”
“Then, let us get this over with, shall we?” He took the stairs with determination. “Did you get the money I sent this month?”
“We did.”
He paused on the landing. That his brothers were going hungry infuriated him. “Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t enough?”
“We shouldn’t be your responsibility.”
“But you are.” He didn’t bother to knock. The room, like the rest of the house, was cold and sparsely furnished. The bed had been moved as close to the fireplace as one could get without it catching on fire. The frail old man coughed, and, as he quieted, Jonathon came into his line of sight. Gayish skin covered bones with little muscle mass, and his face resembled more of a skull than the strong man he had been a decade ago. Jonathon wouldn’t have recognized his paternal parent on the street, had they passed. Not that he believed the man could make it to the chamber pot on his own legs. “Milord.”
Hollow blue eyes stared up at him as frail fingers wiped spittle mixed with blood from his mouth. “The prodigal son returns.”
“As you see.”
“Even the devil himself can’t outrun the Grim Reaper.” Coughing started again, but, even now, Jonathon couldn’t bring himself to care. “There is a great deal you will need to do.”
“I am sure there is.”
“I just hope you are a better lord than I was.”
Jonathon paused at that. Could the man actually have regrets? Could he be asking for absolution in his final hours? Was that why he had summoned his eldest home? The one whose name he hadn’t even spoken in years. If he was indeed asking, then Jonathon would need to open himself up for forgiveness.
“Do you think I don’t know the shape of the estates? I know how you despise me, have since your mother put her spoon in it. But your hate for me drove you to succeed. I made you the man you have become.” He coughed and closed his eyes. “I can’t change the bastard I am. I see you don’t plan to argue with me.”
“Did you call me here to tell me this?” Anger resurged in his gut. “To gloat about your perceived success where I am concerned? Believe me, if you knew how I was succeeding, you would expire right here and now.”
“Jonathon, enough,” Gabriel warned from the door.
“I called you here because you are about to be the head of the family. My title will pass down to you. No matter that Gabriel would be my choice over you.”
“See, all those years of trying to keep me healthy were for naught. You could have just let me catch the ague and die.” He leaned against the wall, torn between trying to be respectful to the earl and wishing him ill for all he had done to his mother and brothers.
“I don’t want to be the earl,” Gabriel mumbled.
“You sure, Gab? You could kill me now. Blame it on the old man and no one would question it. All this”—he put his arms up and turned—“could be yours.”
“Stop it, Jonathon. None of this is funny.” Gabriel paled.
“Do I look amused? His pride, his stubborn ego has brought this once-flourishing estate to ruin, and I have no bloody idea how I am going to save it with my ass in debtors’ prison. Because, for the first time since Mum died, he is worth more alive than dead. I haven’t the foggiest idea how we are going to pay the death tax.”
“He isn’t even dead yet,” Gabriel hissed. “And all you can think about is money?”
No, he was thinking about the lack thereof. Tamping down his anger, he addressed his heir with a softness to his voice he could not summon for their father. “It’s something you should be focusing on. I’m not throwing words like debtors’ prison around idly. It’s a great possibility that looms outside this estate.”
He rubbed the tension forming at his brow. Gabriel spent his life desperate for their father’s approval. Unlike Jonathon, Gabriel had never realized it couldn’t happen. The only thing the old man loved was his title. Not the estate, certainly not the servants, or even, in the end, his children. Nothing mattered but being an earl. But he had nine siblings who, for good or bad, hadn’t seen the worst his father had to offer. They hadn’t been aware of their mother’s last moments.
“Perhaps it would be best if you spent his last hours with him. He should be with someone who loves him.” He patted his brother’s shoulder.
“No, stay.” His father coughed. “You won’t deny a dying man’s last request?”
No, he wouldn’t, and, as it turned out, it was indeed his father’s last request. An hour later, his father began to cough up blood. No matter how he despised the man, he would wish on no one the fate that he beheld. “Go freshen up. I will see to him.”
Gabriel, his eyes red rimmed, looked at him but didn’t see him. He stared out into what appeared to be nothing. “Thank you for staying.”
“He was my father as well.”
“He was an asshole. As am I for forever wanting his approval,” Gabriel muttered. “No matter how we tried, he would not allow you back. He hated that you wouldn’t bow down to him. You forced him to see the error of his ways, that not even the estate falling down around him had done. And I still took his side.”
He couldn’t even remember what he had said the day he had been banished. His words years ago had been born out of anger, frustration, and heartache. Though he never knew what had happened to turn Izzy from him. His world had splintered and his heart separated from his body. He had known his father was to blame. By the time he reached the house, wet and dead on the inside, he knew he would no longer kowtow to a man he couldn’t respect. There was nothing left for him to take away.
The argument had started in the hallway when the earl caught sight of his soaking-wet son, and soon escalated into the sparse dining room where angry words echoed through the halls. The only regret he had was that the younger boys had paid witness to the ugliness of the battle before the housekeeper shuttled them off somewhere else. He never knew where because, when he raced out with only his saddlebags and his horse, no one had been there to see him off.
“He was your father. For good or bad.” Jonathon gripped his brother’s shoulder, trying to infuse his strength into the other man. “You had to live here long after I was gone. We do what we must to survive.”
“We survived because you sent money and food.” His brother looked over at the dead form of their father. “Why did you never speak a word of what happened to our mother? Why carry that burden on your own?”
“Because it was mine to bear.” Tonight was not the time to find out exactly how much his brother knew about their mother. Nor how he found out. “You knowing would have accomplished nothing but make the earl send you away, too.”
“We would have been better able to understand the depth of your anger.” Squaring his shoulders, he bowed to his brother. “Milord, you are now the Earl of Stockton.”
“Unlike the man before, the title means nothing to me. My family and the people on these lands are what matter to me. I need to tell our brothers that their father is dead. Tonight, a brother is all that I am.” He pulled the aged, yellowing sheet over his father’s head and ushered Gabriel out the door with him. One of the three staff still in residence waited outside the door. “Alfred, we are in mourning.”
“Yes, milord.” The man bowed. “Shall I call for the local vicar?”
“Thank you, yes. The boys may need his prayers.”
“Your brothers, milord, are in the kitchen.”
“I will address them now.” He steeled himself to put on a strong front. As he walked into the kitchen, eight sets of eyes all the same color blue as his looked up at him. “The earl is dead.”
“No, the earl is standing before us,” Gabriel announced.
Never had he been less thrilled about his title than he was then.
Isabel knocked on the door to the big house. She’d waited as long as she could. Her news could not wait out the proper mourning period. Her condition wasn’t likely to wait. The new earl had locked himself into his house, and no one in the village had seen him other than when he ventured out for Sunday services. Who could blame him? The debt collectors were coming out in force. She knocked again. Gabriel opened the door. “Miss Hathaway, what are you doing here?”
“I need to speak to Jonathon.”
“His lordship is in a meeting.”
Gabriel had never liked her, but she didn’t care about his rudeness. “I must see him. It’s urgent.”
“I wasn’t lying. He is in a meeting.” Gabriel stepped to the side. “When he comes out, I can tell him you’re here.”
“Do you know how long he will be?”
Gabriel mumbled, more to himself than her, “How long does it take to write a marriage contract?”
“Marriage? He is getting married?”
“Yes, apparently this rich American has more coin than brains and wants his family attached to an old English name,” Gabriel said with a shrug.
What little she had managed to keep in her stomach now threatened to make a real appearance. “He can’t marry her.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Because I’m carrying his child.” She pressed a hand to her stomach, and the room started to spin.
“Ah bloody hell.” Gabriel lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the sole chair in the corner in what was once a library. “You have shit timing. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
She watched through the open doors across the hall as Gabriel whispered into Jonathon’s ear. His head shot up, and their eyes met. But, unlike in the past, the blue orbs seemed lifeless. “Please excuse me, Mr. Quincy.”
He turned to his brother before approaching her. How this scene reminded her of a scene years ago. This time, however, she could not run, and she hoped neither would he. “Jonathon.”
He closed the door. “Isabel, is it true?”
She pushed past the lump in her throat. “Yes. I tried to allow you to mourn longer.”
“As it happens, you left it almost too late.” He paced a bit, paused then continued. “Forgive me. I am not certain what the social demands are in this situation. Are you feeling all right?”
“Beyond a bit of queasiness, I am fine.”
“I see. You can understand my confusion. You have on multiple occasions declined my suit and said nothing on earth could induce you to accept my hand.”
Eating crow when she was so nauseas was not helping her situation. “Things have changed.”
“So it would appear.” He stopped pacing. “But I do not know the script.”
“I need you to marry me.” She hated the begging in her voice.
“Very well.”
After a long pregnant pause, she asked, “Very well?”
“I shall contact the archbishop and call on your father this afternoon.” He moved over to the window, gripped the sill, and laid his forehead on the pane. “I assume you would rather go through a special license than have the banns read.”
“Yes.” She didn’t know what she expected, but this cold detachment hadn’t been it. In her head, or perhaps her heart, she’d hoped he would be overjoyed. That he would proclaim his love and mutter words Lord Byron would find befitting for one of his books.
“I need to inform my guest I am no longer available to court his daughter.”
“Did you love her?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“Who?”
“The daughter?” The conversation was making her dizzy.
“Nay. I have never even laid eyes on her. It was to be a marriage of convenience.” He stepped away from the window. “Mr. Quincy’s daughter would become a countess, and we’d get a flush of funds so desperately needed. A win for everyone involved.”
“But I thought you said you would never marry for money.” The words were out before she could stop them.
“Things have a way of changing when I am staring down the door of debtors’ prison and my brothers can’t eat. I can no longer afford anything, not even my pride.” He turned to her. “Much like your ideals have changed, so did mine. I no longer have the luxury of idealism or much hope.”
“Jonathon, I—”
“Shall we tell your father together or shall I break the news to him?” It was now obvious he wasn’t looking for words of hope or perhaps platitudes.
“We can do it together.” She stared down at her hands.
“Very well. If you’ll wait here for a few minutes, I must deal with other issues.”
Jonathon closed the door to the library behind him, leaving Isabel alone. He wondered if he had just been granted a piece of heaven or hell. The only woman he had ever or would ever love had just asked him to marry her because she was carrying his child. But their betrothal had not happened the way he had hoped. She was marrying because she had no other option. He would be damned if he would allow her to think this was about her money.
He entered his office to find his brother and Mr. Quincy shaking hands. “Pleasure, sir.”
“What is going on?” He hoped to hell Gabriel hadn’t made a mess of things.
“I shall inform the local minister, and my daughter shall arrive within the fortnight.” Mr. Quincy offered Jonathon a smile and a handshake with a brief apology before he walked out.
“What did you do?”
“I let him see that if all he wanted was the name, that the second son might be a better choice for a young girl who has never been out in society. She couldn’t possibly be up for the responsibility of being a countess and what the title entails.”
“You shouldn’t have to marry her. I don’t want you to make that sacrifice.”
“But it’s okay for you to sacrifice everything. Your life, your heart, for us?” Gabriel slammed the door shut. “You aren’t a bloody martyr. We all want to help. Damn it, we need to do something. This can’t be on your shoulders alone.”
“I will handle it.”
“Too bad, William is out talking to another of the families who has approached us but Father thought were beneath us.”
“I am well aware of his pompous beliefs.”
“He had me pretend to be you.”
The sudden shift in the conversation had him feeling like he was on unstable ground. “What are you on about?”
“May god forgive me because I doubt you ever will. Please, sit down.” When Jonathon shook his head, he continued. “The morning of your banishment, Miss Hathaway came to visit, and Father had me pretend to be you. At that time, no one could tell the difference unless we were side by side.”
A chill ran down his spine, encasing his very being in ice. “What did you do?”
“We made it seem like the only reason you were after her was her dowry. You had to marry her for money, and you were doing it under Father’s orders.”
“I see.” His whole world had fallen apart, and a brother he loved more than himself had played the cruelest part in the game.
“You cannot know the guilt I have.” He reached out but let his hand fall. “It’s why you must let me marry Mr. Quincy’s daughter. It matters not if she is ugly or a hag. I will pay my penance. Especially if you can finally marry Isabel.”
The pain in Gabriel’s voice broke through the cavernous chasm of his soul. He knew better than most what their father had been like. Who was he to blame anyone who survived the best they could. Still he couldn’t quite bring himself to absolve his brother of his sins.
“I tried to tell you, but you had the royal row and then left. You didn’t come back, though father kept saying you would with your tail between your legs. I know you came back when William was sick, but, by then, I didn’t know how to tell you.” Gabriel went to the desk and pulled out an old ledger. “We hid this in here, knowing father would never find it. It’s our correspondence with Madame Evangeline. It was our way of trying to make it right. All of us.”
He glanced at the letters, all begging for help. All pleading with Madame Eve to give him one last chance with the woman he loved. “You were trying to get us back together.”
“We didn’t have enough money, not even close, but we pleaded our case, said sometimes true love was more important. We asked if we could pay our debt little by little.” He handed over the letter. “She said she would take care of it.”
“I see.”
“But then you never went. We were sure you would never go. Rumor had it you had gambled the date away.”
“I did. But, apparently, it’s nonnegotiable,” he muttered, looking over the letters again. “You never could have known Izzy would sign up for the service as well.” At the bottom of the letter, Madame Eve penned they were to trust her. She would make the evening happen. “We only wanted to make it right.” He handed him a second sheet of paper. “Mr. Quincy has agreed to pay the death tax. That should keep you out of prison for the time being. We will figure out the rest.”
With the weight of prison off his shoulders, he could focus on something else for a minute. “Does Jacob still want to pursue the collar?”
“He does.”
“I will return shortly.” He might not be able to get the two youngest back in Eton yet, but he could get one the career he wanted. Reaching for his top hat, he prepared to escort Isabel to her father. She stood as he entered the room. After a second’s hesitation, cross to his side. Together, they made their way down the hill and across the field to her family estate. “How long have you known?”
“About the babe?” She didn’t wait for him to answer before continuing. “I knew at Windenshire’s wedding and had searched you out to tell you.”
“I see.”
“I would have told you, but you had enough on your plate.” She stopped. “I know the last month has been hard. I am so sorry for the loss of your father.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I never had a ‘father’ as you understand the word.” To be honest, he’d had little time to think on his father’s death. There had been too much to do. Every night, he crawled into bed, exhausted and worn out, simply to awaken a few hours later to start all over again. “I can only hope to be a better parent and earl than the one before me.”
“Oh, Jonathon, the way you looked after your brothers alone shows you are more of a parent than he ever was.” Forcing him to look at her, she cupped his face. “If I thought for a second you were anything like your father, I would have raised this child on my own, society be damned.”
“I pray you do not regret your decision.” A part of him wanted to get on his knees and beg her to love him again. To tell her what she had seen all those years ago had been a setup. A tableau perfectly played out to drive the two young lovers apart. But that had been years ago,, and, the truth was, they needed to build a new relationship on where they were today. Those young naïve teens were long gone. Instead, he removed her hand from his face and placed it on his arm.
Mr. Hathaway, who had made his fortune in shipping, greeted them in his office. “To what do I owe this visit, your lordship?”
After removing his hat and coat, he reached out a hand in greeting. “I’d hoped to have a moment of your time.”
“Of course. Come in.” He cast his daughter a knowing glance. “Shall you call for your mother?”
“Yes, Papa,” she said and left the two of the alone.
“I assume you are here to ask for Isabel’s hand in marriage,” the older man asked without preamble.
“You would be correct in your assumption.”
“Although I have no objection to you as a man, your financial situation is less than glorious.” He indicated an empty chair, and Jonathon, though he would have preferred to stand, gave in to the other man’s request. “After all these years, and with the recent passing of your father, perhaps we could delay things through the proper time of mourning.”
He hated having to break such news to a man who had been only kind to him and his brothers. “Time unfortunately is not on our side.”
“I see.” Mr. Hathaway eased down into his seat, color seeping from his cheeks. “Will there be time for the banns to be read?”
He had to give the older man credit. He’d taken the news better than Jonathon would have, had the roles been reversed. “I am planning to head to the archbishop this afternoon.”
“So this is less of a request for her hand and more of an informing me you are taking it.” He leaned back in his chair. “It would be within my right to withhold her dowry.”
“I am not asking for any money.” Jonathon knew the other man’s disbelief and understood it. “In fact, I want all her money to stay within your family. The earldom is in dire straits, and I do not want anyone going after your money to pay the debts. I do not want your daughter ever to think it was for her money I am marrying her.”
“Are you mad? Giving you the money, if it keeps you out of prison, is best for my daughter and my grandchild.”
“This part of the wedding contract is not up for discussion. It is nonnegotiable.” He could no longer sit still and moved to the window to gaze up at the manor on the hill. His family seat resembled a deserted relic. “But I do request that you maintain her lifestyle. I, of course, cannot afford even the fabric of the day gown she wears today.”
“So, we maintain her bills while she lives under your roof.”
“Until such a time that I can start to pay.” The words tasted like sawdust on his tongue. But pride no longer had a place in his life. Hadn’t for quite a while.
“I have always liked you, milord, but I pray you don’t let your honor or pride override common sense.”
“Common sense is all I have left. I long ago abandoned my pride,” he assured. “For the time being, the threat of prison no longer looms on the horizon.”
“Henry.” Mrs. Hathaway came in, beaming. “We have a wedding to plan. And about time, too. These two have taken so long to get here, I began to doubt they would see the light.”
“With all due respect, darling, Jonathon and I have been discussing the situation as he is still in mourning. A small, quiet special license might be best.” He sent a knowing look to Jonathon. “I believe we have negotiated the terms of the wedding contract.”
“I will be off, then.” Jonathon announced. “Is my horse still within your stables?”
“He is. Isabel, why don’t you see your betrothed out while your mother and I discuss a small wedding feast for the family.”
She led Jonathon to the stables and asked the Samuel their stable boy to bring his steed. “Is there anyone you want to have here to stand up for you?”
Under other circumstances, he would have invited the world to witness them being wed. But, at the moment, he had never felt more alone. “No. I am sure one of my brothers will act as a witness.” He looked at the sun. “If I want to be back before nightfall, I need to be off now.”
“Be careful.”
He fought every nerve ending that demanded he pull her into his arms and claim a kiss. But, unless she could give her heart to him, she could never be truly his again. As he rode from the stable, he had a renewed sense of purpose. His mother had made him promise that when he had children, he would take good care of them and love their mother. She might not be there to see, but he’d keep his word.
He had what he had always wanted, Isabel at his side, and yet she couldn’t be farther away.
The light-blue day gown with the small pink flowers had seemed like a good idea, but, overnight, this baby decided that staying hidden was not going to happen. Since telling him three days ago, everything had changed. “How obvious is it that I am indisposed?”
“Only to you, ma’am.”
Isabel turned to the side and rubbed the ruched skirt down. “Are you sure?”
“When you do that, ’tis obvious, so stop doing that.”
“It’s time. The archbishop has arrived.” Her mother came in, holding a small bouquet. “You look beautiful.”
“Is he here?” She didn’t know why she was feeling so nervous, as if Jonathon might leave her at the altar. This from the man who had asked her more than once for her hand, yet now she worried he wouldn’t want her. Perhaps it was the space he gave her, not physically but emotionally. He referred to her as Miss Hathaway in a cold, aloof manner. He also seemed so very tired. She wondered why the weight of the world should be still upon him when his financial issues were about to come to an end.
“He has been here for almost thirty minutes. His brothers came over this morning to help set up tables by the lake.”
“His brothers? But we have plenty of servants to set up.”
“Apparently, they are all anxious to see you both tie the knot. I don’t know the boys well, but I have never until this day seen them smile, and they have been nearly giddy. I wish no one ill, but the old earl….”
“Was a monster.” She looked out her bedroom window in the direction of her new home. “Jonathon used to tell me some of the evils that went on in that house.”
“Isabel, you might have to be patient with Jonathon. The stress of the earldom will take its toll. You must be there to support him when he needs a partner. Listen when he needs a confidant and encourage when he needs a coach.”
“Hopefully, the influx of money from my dowry will help ease some stress.” When her mother said nothing, she turned from the window and looked at her. Her mother was literally biting her lip. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
Her mother shuffled her feet. The longer the delay, the more Isabel worried. So many scenarios ran through her head.
“Mother, please.”
“Your father said Jonathon had refused to take a dime of your dowry.”
“How can he do that?” He needed the blunt. Hell, he had been about to marry a woman he had never met because going to jail would have been a hardship for his brothers. “He will end up in debtors’ prison without the money.”
“I don’t know the details, but I do know that looks to be a distant possibility. He asked your father to have his lawyer look into selling his London home.”
“Sell his place in town?”
Her mother nodded and offered a kind smile. “He is doing everything he can to bring the estate to rights.”
“But if my money can help….”
“He won’t take it.” Her mother gripped her hands. “Your father has tried to persuade him.”
“He can’t take on the extra burden of me, too.”
“On that account, he did ask that your father continue to support you financially.”
“Stupid pride.” Anger ran through her.
“Perhaps, or perhaps he wants you to know he is marrying you for you.” Her mother’s soft smile didn’t cover the concern. “He was quite adamant about it, said there would be no wedding if your father didn’t agree to those terms.”
She would deal with this later on. She hadn’t wanted him to marry her because of money, but now that they were getting married, it seemed downright insane for him to not take what was offered.
Her father met her on the back veranda to escort her down to the lake. The soft kiss he placed on her temple brought a tear to her eye. With three failed engagements, and she was ending up with the first man she had ever loved. The one she had always dreamt of.
She knew the moment Jonathon caught sight of her. He froze mid-speech, his lips parted, and he stood stone-still. As she approached his side, a smile started with his eyes, giving her hope. A softness she hadn’t seen since their time at Madame Evangeline’s, made a small important appearance.
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he murmured.
They may no longer be a love match, but she could ask for no better reaction. He took her hand and placed it on his arm as they turned to the archbishop, who offered them a grim smile. The seriousness of the marriage rite had been droned into them both the evening before. “Are we ready?”
“Yes,” Jonathon answered for them.
“Wait.” A deep voice boomed from up the hill. She turned to see six people coming toward them in a full run. Three men and their wives. As they came closer, Wolfe Thane, the Duke of Foxhaven demanded, “Are we too late?”
“What are you doing here?” Jonathon asked, incredulous.
“You didn’t think you could get leg shackled and not have us here to witness it, did you?” Lord Andrew Masterson, Earl of Windenshire, declared.
“I don’t understand,” Jonathon muttered.
“Well understand this.” Foxhaven clapped Jonathon on the back. “Three separate messengers came to inform me of your upcoming nuptials. I have to say that was two more than were needed. We were packed and ready when the other two came to the door. We sent for these four but discovered they were already on their way, too.”
“There is a team of messengers from all three houses now riding all over England. All to insure we arrived on time,” Simon Winston, the Marquis of Breckinridge, managed through deep breaths.
“Who?”
His brother William, Isabel’s father, and then finally Isabel herself all raised their hands. “Peter and Parker said you needed your friends here.”
“Did they?” Although he tried for terse, he couldn’t hide that he was touched by the thought. He reached out and rubbed the two youngest boys’ blond heads.” Shall we get you some seats?”
“No need. We have been sitting for hours.” Miranda, Andrew’s countess said, sidling up to her husband. “Please continue.”
Fifteen minutes later, Isabel was declared wife and Countess to her earl. The cheer that rose from the three other couples made the wedding party seem larger than it was. Jonathon turned to his bride and whispered, “You might regret sending for them.”
She doubted it. They brought a lightness to everyone. She also suspected they were about to take over their life for the next several days at the very least. She soon knew it for a fact as they came upon the house a few hours later to find all the mattresses outside and linens being cleaned and hung to dry. Windows stood open and an army of people were busy cleaning and freshening rooms that had lain empty and unkempt. “What is going on?”
“You can’t expect to bring your bride to your home when it’s in such bad shape,” Lyssa said as if it was a stupid question. “Consider this part of our wedding gift to you.”
“Not from me,” Wolfe announced. “My gift to you is something else.”
“As is mine.” Andrew smiled. “Come on. Let me show you. Is it okay if I steal your husband?”
She nodded and could only watch as the four men disappeared around the large stone house. Lyssa, who had taken on the role of duchess, spoke for the group. “We felt that the last thing you needed were silver trays and tea sets.”
“I hope it’s okay that we are unconventional,” Chandra said with a smile.
“What are they showing him?” Curiosity was an evil that always caught Isabel in its trap.
“I believe Wolfe is showing him seeds and introducing him to our grounds manager. Charles is in charge of our fields and what we harvest every year.”
“I can’t remember the last time they planted crops here.”
“Your late father-in-law was not known for his estate management. But let’s not speak ill of the dead,” Llysa said.
“Especially when all that can be said of the man is ill.” Chandra rolled her eyes in a very unladylike manner.
“And not on her wedding day.” Miranda nudged them both. “Andrew is giving him some of our stock. A few dairy cows, chickens, and because the man loves to fish, he is restocking the lake.” She smiled.
“Fish?”
“The last is purely selfish on his part. He knows we won’t see the new earl in London much, thus we will have to come here. And Andrew wants to fish. So, you must have fish.”
“Simon has hired a few men to come out and repair the stables and barn.” Chandra added.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“There is nothing to say, my dear.” Llysa intertwined her arm with hers. “We have been wondering how to help, but, until the invitation came, we had no way without his stubborn pride getting in the way.”
“But one cannot turn away a wedding gift.”
“Precisely,” the three women said in full agreement, with smiles that could light up a room. She liked them all immensely and hoped she would be part of their fold.
Funny how Jonathon claimed he no longer had a place in his life for pride, yet, at every turn, he’d refused help freely given.
“If it weren’t for Jonathon, none of us would have gone to see Madame Eve and met our true loves,” Llysa shared.
“To be fair, two of us knew our true loves but needed nudges in the right direction,” Chandra added with a slight blush.
“I have a confession to make. I overheard you all speaking about it.”
The three ladies all blushed at the same time. But when Chandra spoke, she couldn’t have been more shocked. “We knew you were there. Actually, Peter and Patrick informed Simon that they set up the date for Jonathon with 1Night Stand but had no way of getting you to do the same.”
“You set me up?”
“Well, Madame Evangeline did that. We just got the ball rolling.”
“Don’t be mad at us.” Lyssa grabbed her hands. “Please, we just wanted him happy, and you obviously make him happy.”
“No, I am making him a father.”
All three women gaped at her belly. “You’re…?” the trio said.
Lyssa reached into her bag and handed an envelope to Isabel. “What is this?”
“You won. Men aren’t the only one who put bets on the books. Ours was who would get in the family way first.” Lyssa pouted and headed for the front door as a maid met her with an apron. She tied it on and covered her long blonde locks with a head scarf. “So, where shall we start?”
“You heard Her Grace.” Miranda smiled. “What, milady, would you like us to work on?”
Somehow, having a duchess, marchioness, and another countess cleaning her house seemed social suicide. “You shouldn’t be doing this.”
“First, none of us are above this, and second, none of us are willing to stay in this house the way it is.” Chandra swiped her white-gloved finger over the windowsill, bringing it up brown with dirt.
The cringe she fought so hard to keep down rose to the surface. The house, her new home, was nothing short of a disaster. “My family would be more than willing to put you all up.”
“And that will get this house clean how? There hasn’t been a woman’s touch in this place since Jonathon’s mother died, and, even then, I don’t think she had much of a say in the running of the household.” Chandra searched her large carpetbag. She finally pulled out a mobcap and found a second for Miranda.
“No, the late earl was very controlling. I heard stories about him,” Miranda admitted, shoving her red curls under the cap as she took in the room.
The two younger boys came running down the stairs. “Have you seen your bedchamber, Isabel?”
“No, I haven’t been in the house in a couple of days and certainly never been up on the upper levels.”
Eleven-year-old Peter grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
She followed with the three ladies at her heels. The house already possessed a lightness about it that had been absent before. The opened windows cleared the mustiness of the old rooms, and someone had already taken wax to the banister, bringing out the lighter wood and erasing years of neglect. “Where did you find all these people to work?”
“Easy. Wolfe’s staff came with us and rode ahead to town to find anyone wanting to make some extra money.”
Peter threw open the countess’s door, and, to her shock she walked into a beautiful room. “Your father sent up the furniture and your mother choose the bedding.”
“But Jonathon set up the room to insure it was perfect for you,” Patrick added with pride.
“Was this your mother’s room?” Chandra asked.
Peter shook his head. “No one uses my mother’s room or my father’s. Not even Jonathon now that he is the earl.”
“Too many bad memories.” Llysa took the boy out into the hall. “How about we two start on your mother’s room? It’s time for someone to open it, don’t you think?”
The little boy nodded. His big sapphire eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Yes, please, Your Grace.”
What must it be like to know your mother died bringing you into the world? She doubted anyone talked of his mother and bet that neither Peter nor Patrick, the two youngest, had ever heard stories about their mother.
“Milady.” A woman dressed in the green-and-black livery of the marquis curtsied. “The kitchen would like to know when you would like them to start dinner and for how many.”
“Kitchen staff?” Isabel knew for a fact no one had worked in the kitchen in years.
“Two local women, a mother and her daughter,” Chandra filled in. “They are here for our stay. If you’d like to keep them on, I am sure you can work it out.”
“Tell them I will be right down.”
“You have this, or do you want some help?” Chandra asked. “Being thrown into running a well-managed estate can be overwhelming, let alone one in disrepair.”
“Help would be greatly appreciated.” At every turn, when she most felt she would be alone, these women knew what she needed.
“Then take Miranda. She has spent her entire life training to be a countess and is the best choice for running a household,” Chandra said with a smile.
The next few hours passed in a whirlwind of answering questions she didn’t know the answers to and looking to Miranda for answers when she could. Dinner proved a casual and loud event. The only table large enough to hold everyone was in the kitchen, and, although she would have thought it beneath their graces, they seemed right at home in the kitchen with all the brothers.
Unlike most weekends parties she had attended where the men and the women would separate immediately after the evening repast, everyone stayed in the kitchen long after the meal had been cleaned up. That there were no other gathering rooms furnished didn’t leave her mind. By eleven that evening, the women made a big deal of yawning, and their husbands, being no slouches, picked up on the hints.
Soon, the newlyweds were left alone, and she couldn’t have been more nervous had she been a virgin. “Do you require your lady’s maid for the evening?” asked her new husband.
She shook her head. “She is still down at my parents’ house. I think they believed you would be able to assist me tonight.”
She followed him up the stairs to the new countesses bedchamber. Once inside, he lit two of the lanterns to give her plenty of light. She offered her back to him, and the laces released. “Is there anything else you require?”
“Require? Aren’t you staying in here tonight?”
“No. It’s been a long day, and the only reason you agreed to marry me was because you are with child. I am not so desperate that I will demand my marital rights.”
“I don’t think of it as a demand.”
He shrugged. “Even so, we did not marry for love, and, as you are expecting, we do not need to consummate the marriage.”
For lack of anything else to say and perhaps a desire to delay him, she sputtered, “Thank you for the room.”
“It was a joint effort.” He headed for the door but paused. “I apologize that we have so many guests here. I never expected them to stay.”
“I like them.”
“They like you. Good night, Countess.”
She hadn’t expected to sleep alone on her wedding night, but sleep had taken her. When a knock sounded on her door, she was disorientated as to her location at first. She opened the door to find Patrick before her. The day’s events came back to her. “Patrick?”
“Miss Hathaway…I mean….”
“Isabel is fine. What in heavens is wrong?”
“I need Jonathon. Peter is sick.”
“Sick?”
Patrick made a face of disgust. “He ate a lot of cake.”
The poor boys had little to eat on a good day, and the sweets must have been too much. “Have you checked his lordship’s room?”
“Yes, then I thought maybe he would be in here with you.”
“He isn’t.”
“Is everything okay?” His Grace asked.
“Peter is sick, and we are trying to locate Jonathon.”
Wolfe raised an eyebrow. “Direct me to Jacob’s room.”
“Why Jacob?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Because he yearns for a position within the church, he won’t lie, not even for Jonathon.”
She grabbed her dressing gown and followed the duke up to the next floor. She had to take two steps to his every one, simply to keep up with him. The duke pounded on the door. “Jacob.”
The middle boy came out, rubbing his eyes. “Your Grace?”
“Where is your brother?” Foxhaven demanded.
“Which one?”
The duke turned and glared at young Patrick. “Is there more than one missing?”
Patrick shrugged then shook his head so violently she feared the boy would make himself sick as well.
Jacob gulped. “If Jonathon is not in the house, you might find him at the docks.”
“I need someone to see to Peter then you can go back to bed.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Jacob moved down the hall without a second look back.
“What is he doing on the dock?” Isabel asked, a bit hurt and more than confused why he would go out on his wedding night.
Wolfe paused for a second as if thinking. “My opinion, he is at a gaming hell, trying to make money.”
“What?”
“It’s how he survived for the last decade.” Wolfe’s nostrils flared as if the idea was distasteful.
“By gambling?”
Andrew appeared at the bottom of the stairs, half-dressed. “What the hell is going on?”
“Interested in checking out the local hells?” Wolfe asked in a lowered tone.
“Why would I…. Oh. Right, then…um, let me wake Simon.”
“I’m going with you.” No way were these men going hunting for her husband without her.
“Absolutely not.” Wolfe walked past her to descend to the lower floors.
“I’ll simply follow. I know the land and town better than the three of you.”
“Lord save me from strong-willed women.” He paused on the landing, turning to glare back at her. “Fine, but you will do exactly as I say.”
“I’m not stupid.”
He grunted. “Patrick, bring the countess some cloths, please.”
“What?” both Patrick and Isabel said on a gasp.
“If you think I’m going to let a gently bred woman go to the gaming hells as a lady, you have lost your minds. You will go as a boy. It will be safer that way.” He turned, mumbling something about women and something else about friends.
Twenty minutes later, they managed to sneak out without the other women waking. The men all explained that they had thoroughly worn their wives out.
Simon jumped out at the first stop and was back in the carriage moments later. “He isn’t in there, and they haven’t seen him in years.”
“Really?” Andrew rubbed at the stubble on his chin.
Three more places said the same thing. They were about to turn the carriage around when Andrew banged on the roof to stop. “Bloody hell. Found him.”
Andrew pointed to the wharf. She looked to where men were unloading items from merchant ships. Jonathon, Gabriel, and William, all wearing dark clothing with their heads covered, made their way back and forth, taking items off the boats and loading them onto waiting horse-drawn carts. No matter how they dressed, the three couldn’t hide their walk. Money or no, they held themselves as gentry. Simon jumped out and approached the foreman, careful to stay out of view of the brothers.
She continued to watch as her husband threw sack after sack over his shoulder and placed them on the waiting wagons. “What do you think they are hauling?”
“Hard to say unless we could get closer and I can see where the haul is coming in from. My guess is cotton.”
“Well, we know it’s not corn.” Andrew leaned back into the corner and closed his eyes. “Not since the ban has been in place anyway.”
“How can you go back to sleep now?” she demanded.
He opened one eye as he crossed his arms. “Easy. Close my eyes and let sleep take me. Besides, don’t you think my wife is capable of wearing me out as much as I did her?”
She blushed, and Wolfe laughed. “Andrew, you seem to have forgotten you are speaking to a lady.”
“Who is dressed as a man to explore the gaming hells. You will forget my slip of etiquette.”
The carriage tilted to the side as Simon climbed back in then the door closed and the carriage jarred forward. “We aren’t leaving, are we?”
“What do you plan to do? Watch him all night?” Andrew grumbled.
“I don’t know, but they should not be out here.”
“According to the foreman, Jonathon has been working the wharfs for over a decade. When not here, he was working the ones wherever he was.”
“Do they know who he is?”
“The foreman said he knew, but what did it matter? If a man was paying his debts and had a good back, he didn’t care it the shoulders belonged to the King of England himself.” Simon eased himself into the other corner to follow Andrew’s lead.
“There is no way William and Gabriel have been doing this very long.” Shock still ran through her at what she had seen. The gentry just didn’t work the docks; they didn’t do manual labor.
“They haven’t. They joined him shortly after their father died. My guess is that they followed their brother out here one night and gave Jonathon no choice but to help out, too.”
“How didn’t we know?” Simon asked as if trying to work through everything in his head.
“We all thought he was visiting the gaming hells in town,” Andrew muttered but didn’t open his eyes.
“How am I supposed to talk to him about this? Make him understand…?” she asked.
“You don’t,” all three men said in unison.
“But….”
Wolfe leaned forward and gripped the hands she hadn’t realized she was rubbing raw. “You must allow him his secrets. You must allow him to deal with the debts that are his to pay.”
“Gawd, woman, allow him his pride,” Andrew said on a yawn.
“But I have money.”
“Sometimes, a man needs to feel he is the master of his destiny.” Wolfe gripped tight before he released her hands. “I’ve wondered for a great many years how he managed to pay his bills. I would have heard had he been running up tabs all over London. But he wasn’t. He was paying his bills and still managing to send money home.”
“Not money so much as supplies,” Andrew said from his slumber.
“Supplies?”
“Food, medicine, clothing for his brothers,” Simon filled in. “If he sent money to the earl, the boys would still have gone without. So, he sent things to them once a month. They went into town and picked up packages from somewhere, but the earl never knew.”
“How do you know all this?” Wolfe asked.
“I was at his place, sobering up one evening. Having overdone the spirits the night before, I was in no condition to be in public. A messenger picked up a package.”
“And he just told you?” Isabel couldn’t imagine Jonathon giving up any information. He played everything so close to the vest.
“Actually, yes. He said he never told me before because no one had ever asked.” Simon smiled. “He wasn’t hiding what he did with his money, only how he made it. I assumed he made it at the card tables. But I know now that was too risky. If it were just him, he would have gambled it all and probably would have won.”
Wolfe humphed.
“The only person he ever lost against was you, Wolfe,” Simon continued. “But he had nine brothers to think about. He would never bet on their well-being.”
“I still think there was some gambling. No way he could be paying for his life with what is made on the docks. But perhaps he only bet on the sure things,” Andrew filled in. “I have witnessed him on a few of those nights. One where he walked away with hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds. But those nights were few and far between.”
“So, you have to keep this secret. If he tells you about it, don’t lie, tell him you knew, but unless he broaches the subject, let it rest.” Wolfe was a wise man.
They pulled into the drive and all took to their rooms as Wolfe dealt with the horse and carriage. Unlike earlier, when exhaustion had led her into dreamland, now she lay awake listening to the house. Straining for the sounds of the three brothers returning. The sun had crested over the trees by the time she heard the telltale signs of the front door opening. In a house with few servants, he and his brothers didn’t concern themselves with being seen. Footsteps paused at her door, and, when they didn’t move on, she sprang from her bed and threw open the door to find a stunned Jonathon standing on the other side.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you coming in?”
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She reached up and grabbed his lapels, pulling him over her threshold. Before he could argue, she stood on tiptoe and covered his lips with hers. He groaned and took over the kiss, giving her the strength to hope for more. He eased back to close the door. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to do this.” She pushed his overcoat over his shoulders then pulled his shirt from his waistband and lifted it over his head. She never let her gaze fall to the clothing. She would keep her tongue on the matter until he trusted her to tell. “I want you. I want my husband.”
“Is this safe?”
“I think so.”
“The only thing I remember my mother saying about her pregnancies was that it was the only time my father left her alone.”
She cupped his face. “Let’s start our life together by agreeing your father didn’t know a thing about marriage and family. I want what my parents have.”
He stared deep into her eyes as if trying to read her thoughts. “Your parents have a love match.”
Time to be brave. If she wanted something, she had to fight for it. If her husband could work so hard for his brothers, she could damned well endeavor for a happy marriage. “We had love once. Can’t we try to find it again?”
“Is that what you really want?”
“Yes.”
“Izzy, you will destroy me if later on you say this isn’t what you want.” The softness and vulnerability in her husband surprised her. She hadn’t seen this side since his mother’s death. Now, his soul lay bare before her. The depth of his fear showed through, and she wondered how he had hidden it for so long.
“I loved you then, and I believe I still love you. I need to find that woman again because I have hidden her so deep.” She brushed his lips. “But she’s there somewhere waiting for you.”
The room suddenly spun as he lifted her off her feet carrying her to her bed. Placing her in the center he pulled away from her only long enough to strip his clothing off and removed her nightgown. Self-conscious, she covered her stomach.
“Don’t hide from me.” He removed one hand at a time. She knew her stomach, though never flat, now had a growing bump to it. He leaned in and placed a kiss just above her belly button. “I’ll always be thankful for this little one.”
“Not many would feel that way.”
“Not many had given up hope to be with their soul mate.”
The warm breath against her cooling skin sent a series of goose pimples up her limbs and butterflies into her belly. Warm, rough hands, toughened by hard work no lord was supposed to know, tickled her tender skin. And she loved him all the more for his need to protect his family. But, without explaining why her heart was full to bursting, he would not likely believe her turnaround in feelings. She had been such a fool. What did it matter what he had told the cantankerous old bastard years ago? She should have believed the words he spoke to her. Should have known the love showing in his eyes every time he looked at her had been true.
A trail of tender kisses leading to the apex of her thighs had her spreading her legs and arching up to him. Only the intimate kisses he could bestow would sate her need for him now. As his tongue made contact with the tender nub, she moaned. When he suckled, she hissed, and as he made love to her with his tongue, she panted until he ripped the very soul from her. Her hips lifted off the bed of their own volition. The need to have him deeper was uncontrollable, to make the two of them one.
He must have sensed her desire as he climbed up between her thighs, positioned his cock at her wet opening, and entered her with a long, slow grind. Their eyes locked, and he withdrew to return again. Each thrust slowed as if he were savoring every inch of her. She took him in and claimed Jonathon as her husband. Together, they moved to the edge of pleasure only to hold off from jumping over the edge. But, soon enough, neither could stay their desires. The animalistic need to enjoy the pleasure the other offered became too much. As she screamed his name and clamped her legs around his hips, he paused for a brief second before his body shook. She held him within her, squeezed him tight, determined to draw out every last drop of his essence. Fully sated and exhausted, he fell onto the bed next to her, breathing heavily into her neck.
Within seconds, his breathing calmed. She knew he slept, exhausted from work and drained from their lovemaking. Determined to keep his secret, she decided this was how she would greet him every morning until her body could no longer take him.