Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (126 page)

He’d never felt so confident, so very, very peaceful.

The feeling wasn’t going to last long.

Chapter Thirteen
 

You were only three months old when I bundled you up and set out on another adventure. I left in the dead of night so that Patricia wouldn’t be able to stop me. I didn’t leave a note for her, for I believed she’d send men after me
.

You were such a precious infant. Upon reflection, I think the journey was far more difficult for me than for you. You’d just begun to smile, and you were such a sweet-tempered little one
.

I had made arrangements to travel with Jacob and Emily Jackson. I’d met them through Sunday church, you see, and took to them at once. They were a newly wedded couple who had sold their wedding gifts so that they’d have enough coins to go in search of a new life. They were very appreciative of my contributions. Emily took to you, too, Christina. She’d sing to you and rock you to sleep while I saw to the night meals
.

Jacob was a man bitten by wanderlust. Every evening he’d tell us the most wonderful stories about the courageous people living in the Black Hills. His brother had already taken his family there and had sent Jacob word that he was prospering as a gentleman farmer
.

Jacob’s fever was contagious. I soon became as excited as he
was. Emily told me there were many unattached men working the raw land, that I would surely find a good man to marry. I led them to believe my husband had recently died, I admit to you, and I felt great shame for lying to them
.

I told myself over and over that the lie didn’t count. Edward would never find me in this vast wilderness
.

We joined another wagon train when we reached what I believed was the end of the earth. I fought my exhaustion. Emily was always so cheerful. And then, on a bleak, rainy afternoon, we finally reached the valley below the most magnificent mountains I’d ever seen
.

I remember that it was a bitterly cold day. It didn’t matter, though. We were free, Christina. Free. No one could hurt us now
.

Journal entry      
October 11, 1795

Lyon had been gone for over an hour when two letters arrived. Both were addressed to Christina, and both required her immediate attention.

After instructing Kathleen to take the messenger into the kitchens for refreshments, Christina took her letters into Lyon’s study.

The first missive came from her Aunt Patricia. It was a hateful note, filled with defaming remarks about Lyon. The Countess told Christina she’d learned the truth about the Marquess and felt it was her duty to warn her niece that she was married to a murderer.

The Countess then demanded that Christina return to London immediately so that she could accompany her aunt to the various functions of the ton. She whined about the disgraceful fact that she hadn’t received a single invitation since Christina’s outrageous marriage.

Christina shook her head. It had been less than a month since the wedding, but her aunt was carrying on as though a full year had passed.

The Countess ended her list of complaints with the
statement that she was sending along a letter she’d received from the missionary Deavenrue.

She hoped Christina didn’t find ill news.

Christina was immediately suspicious. It wasn’t like her aunt to offer such a good-hearted remark. She thought the Countess might be up to her usual tricks. She was familiar with her former teacher’s handwriting, however, and the flourishing style of his script on the envelope indicated that he had in fact written the letter. The seal on the back of the envelope hadn’t been tampered with, either.

Convinced that the letter was really from her dear friend, Christina finally opened it.

Brown was the first to react to the heart-wrenching scream coming from the library. He rushed into the room and nearly lost his composure altogether when he saw his mistress had collapsed on the floor.

He shouted orders over his shoulder as he knelt down beside the Marchioness. Kathleen, Christina’s maid, came running next. When she saw her mistress, she gave a yell. “Did she swoon? What made her cry out, Brown? Is she hurt?”

“Cease your questions, woman,” Brown snapped. He carefully lifted his mistress into his arms, then noticed that she clutched a letter in her hands. He decided that whatever news she’d just received had caused her to faint. “Go and prepare your lady’s bed, Kathleen,” he whispered. “She doesn’t weigh more than a feather. God help us all if she’s ill.”

Most of the staff had assembled, and they trailed silently behind Brown as he carried Christina up the winding staircase. Kathleen had hurried on ahead to turn down the bed, but Brown walked right past Christina’s bedroom and continued on into his master’s quarters.

“She’ll find comfort here when she wakes up,” he whispered to the cook. “They are a very close couple. She sleeps in here every night.”

“Do we send for the Marquess?” Kathleen asked between sobs.

“Get Sophie,” Brown ordered. “She’ll know what to do about the swoon. Is the messenger still here?”

When Kathleen nodded, Brown said, “I shall send a message to the Marquess with him. Lewis,” he commanded the gardener, “go and delay him.”

Christina opened her eyes just as Brown was awkwardly pulling the covers over her. “Do not make a fuss over me, Brown.”

“Are you in pain, milady?” Brown asked, his voice ragged with worry. “I’ve sent for Sophie. She’ll know what to do,” he added, trying to force the tremor out of his voice.

Christina struggled to sit up just as a large gray-headed woman came rushing into the room. She grabbed two pillows and tucked them behind Christina’s back.

“What do you think it is, Sophie?” Kathleen asked. “She let out a horrible scream and then fainted dead away.”

“I heard her,” Sophie announced. She slapped the back of her hand against Christina’s forehead. Her manner was brisk, her frown intense. “Best send for Winters, Brown. She feels fevered to me. Winters is your husband’s physician,” Sophie explained to Christina.

“I’m not ill,” Christina protested. She was surprised her voice sounded so weak to her. “Brown, do not send for a physician. I’m quite all right now. But I must go to London immediately. Please bring the carriage around front for me. Kathleen, would you see to packing a few of my gowns for me?”

“Milady, you cannot leave this bed. You are ill whether you know it or not,” Sophie exclaimed. “You’re as pale as a cloud. Yes, you are.”

“I must go to my husband,” Christina argued. “He will know what to do.”

“It was the letter that caused your swoon, wasn’t it?” Kathleen asked, wringing her hands.

Brown turned to glare at the maid. Kathleen was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry for prying, milady, but we are all so concerned. You gave us all a scare, and we’ve come to care about you.”

Christina tried to smile. “And I care about all of you,” she said. “Yes, Kathleen, it was the letter.”

“Was it bad news?” Kathleen asked.

“Of course it was bad news, you silly chit,” Brown muttered. “Anyone with half a mind can see that it was,” he added. “Milady, is there anything I can do to ease your distress?”

“Yes, Brown,” Christina answered. “Don’t fight me when I tell you I must leave for London at once. Please help me, Brown. I beg of you.”

“I would do anything for you,” Brown blurted out in a fervent voice. He blushed and added, “The Marquess will be upset by this change in orders, but if you are truly set on going, I shall send four strong men to accompany you. Kathleen, hurry and do your lady’s bidding.”

“Will I be going with you?” Kathleen asked her mistress.

“You will,” Brown announced before Christina could dissuade her eager maid.

“I would like a few minutes alone,” Christina whispered. “I must grieve in privacy.”

They understood then. Someone close to their mistress had passed away.

Brown immediately ushered the servants out of the bedroom. He hesitated after closing the door behind him, then stood there, feeling impotent and unworthy, as he listened to his mistress’s tormented sobs.

He didn’t know how to help her. Brown straightened his shoulders and hurried down the hall. The welfare of his mistress rested on his shoulders now. He wasn’t going to take any chances. He decided to send six men along instead of four to protect the Marchioness.

And though it was highly unusual for a butler to leave his post as guardian of the household, Brown didn’t care. He wasn’t going to leave his mistress’s side until she was safely in her husband’s arms. Yes, he would go along with the assembly. And if he could remember how to hang onto a mount, he just might lead them.

Christina had no idea of the worry she was causing her
staff. She huddled under the covers, hugging Lyon’s pillow to her bosom, weeping softly.

When her tears were spent, she slowly climbed out of the bed and went in search of her scissors. She would cut her hair and begin the mourning ritual.

As of this moment, her Aunt Patricia was dead. Christina would never again acknowledge her existence.

The task of cutting several inches off the length of curls took little time. Kathleen rushed into the room with a pale green gown draped over her arm. Her eyes widened when she saw what her mistress had done to her hair, but she held her silence and assisted her mistress in changing her clothing.

“We will be ready to leave in ten minutes’ time,” Kathleen whispered to Christina before leaving her alone again.

Christina walked over to the windows to stare out at the land. She thought about her family. How Merry would love this country. Black Wolf would be impressed, too, though he’d never acknowledge it, of course. He was too arrogant to make such an admission. He’d be perplexed, too, if he knew that Lyon owned so much land.

White Eagle would be more impressed with Lyon’s stables. The horses had been bred for strength and endurance, and the new foals, so feisty, so magnificent, were proof of Lyon’s careful selection.

“They are not dead.” Christina’s voice was filled with anger.

She started to cry again. No, they weren’t dead. The letter was a lie. She would have known, in her heart, if anything had harmed her family.

“I would have known,” she whispered.

Yes, it was trickery. Christina didn’t know how her aunt had accomplished the foul deed, but she was behind the deception. The evil woman wanted Christina to believe that her Indian family was dead.

Christina didn’t understand the Countess’s reasons.

Lyon would be able to explain. He was a cunning warrior who knew all the ways of the jackals in this world.

She felt a desperate need to get to her husband.

Christina would demand that he take her into his arms and tell her how much he loved her. And then she would make him kiss her. His touch would take the pain and the sorrow away.

She would demand and Lyon would give. It was his duty.

When Lyon arrived at his townhouse in London proper, Sir Fenton Richards was waiting on his doorstoop.

Richards wasn’t smiling.

Lyon was immediately on his guard. “You’ve put on weight,” he announced in lieu of a greeting.

“I have put on weight,” Richards admitted with a grin. He patted his belly to emphasize just where the extra pounds had settled.

Lyon began to relax. His friend’s manner told him all he needed to know. There had to be a problem, for Richards wouldn’t have waited for him just to pay a social call. Yet his casual manner indicated it wasn’t a terribly important problem.

Richards turned to bang on the door. It was immediately opened by a servant. Lyon motioned to his man to take the reins and see to his mount, then led his friend inside to the library.

Richards lumbered in behind him. He was a large man with a bushy beard and silver-tipped hair. He was softspoken, stoop-shouldered, and usually guarded in his expressions. Except when he was in Lyon’s company. The older man could relax then, because his trust in his young friend was absolute.

“All hell has broken loose, and with a vengeance.”

Lyon raised an eyebrow over the mildly given remark.

“Rhone is under house arrest,” Richards announced. He settled himself in one of the two leather-backed chairs in front of Lyon’s desk before adding, “I tried to intervene, but the charges had already been filed by Wellingham. It’s up to you to take care of the matter now.”

“How was he found out?” Lyon asked. He sat down
behind his desk and began to sift through the stack of letters and invitations piled in the center.

Richards chuckled. “You’re taking our friend’s demise well,” he remarked.

“As you said, it’s up to me now. I’ll take care of the matter. Tell me what happened. How—”

“Wellingham noticed the bandage on Rhone’s wrist. One guess led to another after that. Rhone takes too many chances,” Richards announced. “It seems he ran into Wellingham on his way home from your wedding. I was sorry I missed the celebration, by the way,” he added. “Couldn’t be helped. I just got back to London the day before yesterday.”

“It was a small affair,” Lyon said. “You’ll have to come to Lyonwood to meet my Christina,” he added. “How’s Rhone taking the situation?” he asked, turning the subject back to the immediate problem.