Moon Dreams (2 page)

Alan attempted to place the ring on her finger, but Alyson
curled her hands into tight, frightened balls against his chest. He kissed her
nose.

“I have no choice, Alyson. The title requires legitimate
heirs. Everyone accepts that’s the way things must be. But what is legality to
love such as ours? You will be my wife in all but name. Wear the ring, my love,
for me.”

Perhaps she really was very stupid. Others understood their
place in the way of things. Why couldn’t she? Her mother had borne her out of
wedlock, and thenceforth, so must all her own children be the same? It seemed a
singular feat of logic that she had not quite grasped before. She grasped it
now, however, like twisting her fingers around a fiery brand until the pain
seared with white-hot heat, leaving only ashes behind.

“Your generosity overwhelms me, Tremaine. I must go now.”
Dropping her hands from his chest, Alyson stalked down the hall, not caring if
he followed. Pain lit her path and pain carried her feet and pain held her head
high. She would walk away and never look back. Never. It had taken a long time
to grow up, but her eyes were open now.

***

Six weeks later, that night was no more than a half-remembered
nightmare. Reality was the cold gray mist soaking her woolen cloak and clinging
to her lashes and mixing with a torrent of tears. The polished coffin slid into
its stone tomb, out of her sight forever, and Alyson choked on a sob.

The vicar hastily concluded the service before the rain
worsened. She didn’t hear words of comfort or love in his voice; she had to
turn inside herself for that. Grandfather had loved her, and she wanted him to
be happy. He couldn’t be happy lying ill in bed calling for her grandmother. He
was much happier now, up in heaven watching over her. She shouldn’t mourn his
passing, but be glad for him.

Still, the tears rolled down her cheeks. The earl’s death
left her with no one except this stranger the solicitor had introduced as the
new Earl of Cranville. She knew it was the grossest self-pity she indulged in,
but she could not imagine rising in the morning to a day with no grandfather in
it.

Shoving her gloved fist in her mouth, Alyson turned and
raced back to the house, ignoring the black-clad company who so studiously
avoided her. Only the servants dared offer her any comfort, and they had to
maintain a respectful distance during the service.

Behind her, Alan Tremaine started to break away after her,
but his mother caught his arm with an angry hiss and held him back. As he had
throughout the service, the new earl, Alexander Hampton, watched with bored
disinterest.

A little later, Alyson rubbed at the red in her eyes with
cold water before descending to meet with the solicitor. Her maid Hettie
clucked and brought a warm shawl to wrap over Alyson’s mourning gown. She
hovered to brush straying curls back into Alyson’s chignon.

The salon would be full of mourners who had traveled all the
way from London and would spend the night. The late earl had had many friends
in government and society, but Alyson scarcely knew them. She had never needed
more than her grandfather.

That was a lie, but she consoled herself with it anyway as
she patted her hair and arranged her shawl and prepared to meet the gentlemanly
old man who had requested her appearance in the study. In typical fashion, she
had never wondered what would happen to her should anything happen to her grandfather,
but a niggling doubt raised its ugly head now. She knew she had no legal right
to the home she had called her own for nearly nineteen years, but beyond that
she did not understand. She would have to go down and find out.

Besides the bespectacled solicitor, the only other occupant
of the study was her hitherto unknown cousin. Alyson sent him an anxious look
as she settled her skirts in the chair. He was very big and cold and distant as
he sat there in his extravagant London fashion. The full skirt of his coat
flared out over his velvet breeches, silk stockings, and lace. She had never
seen a cadogan wig, and she tried to keep from staring to see how the satin tie
of the wig wrapped around his collar and ended up in front. She had heard her
grandfather call these young fashionables “macaroni’s” with scorn, and she
fancied he had thought of his heir in that manner.

The solicitor coughed to catch her attention. Alyson blushed
and primly set her hands in her lap. She had been daydreaming again. She had
been warned time enough and again that she shouldn’t let her mind wander, but
it was so much easier to go off on distant journeys inside her head than to suffer
tedium. She tried to concentrate on the formidable legal terms the solicitor read
aloud, but she couldn’t keep her attention on words she didn’t know.

Instead, she watched the way the solicitor rubbed at his
temple, indicating his increasing nervousness. A growl made her throw a surreptitious
glance to her cousin. He seemed ready to choke on some particularly unpleasant
morsel. She feared in a moment he would turn purple, and she wondered if she
ought to pat him on the back. The explosion, when it came, did not surprise
her. One would feel inclined to violently expel such unpleasantness.

“He was mad! Criminally insane! I’ll protest it in the
highest court! Bigawd, I’ll have you in Newgate for perpetrating this fraud!
Don’t think I’m some yearling who can be flummoxed like this. Nobody in his
right mind could expect me to run this rattling old castle without a cent to
spit on.”

The solicitor imperturbably adjusted his spectacles. “The
land surrounding the estate has always produced adequate income for the
maintenance of the property—with proper management, of course, my lord. As a
matter of fact, your great-uncle’s fortune began with similar humble
beginnings. He managed his money wisely, invested, and watched it grow. You
have every opportunity to do the same.”

“But I’m the heir! The money should be mine, not some
half-witted bastard female’s.” He threw Alyson a furious look that caused her
to draw back in surprise. “How do we even know she’s a blood relative? There
are no marriage lines to prove her mother wasn’t just some doxy out for what
she could get.”

The solicitor’s lips thinned into a tight line. “There has
never been a question of Miss Alyson’s parentage. His lordship documented the
facts most thoroughly. And even if there were, he was quite free to bring
beggars off the street and endow them with his wealth. Only the title and the
estate were entailed, my lord.”

Alyson heard the solicitor’s hint of scorn in speaking to
the new Earl of Cranville, and she lifted her eyebrows. Never had anyone spoken
to her grandfather in such a manner.

Seeing her surprise, the elderly gentleman turned his gaze
on her. “I apologize for losing my temper, Miss Alyson. Your grandfather was a
close friend of mine, and I mourn his passing deeply. It has been a long,
tiring day, and I will have to return to London immediately. Is there anything
I can do for you? Do you need me to go over any of the facts again?”

Facts? What facts? Why did that cold stranger stare at her
with such fury? She twisted her fingers in her lap and wished she had listened
more carefully. She hated that the term “half-witted” appeared justified. She
wasn’t half-witted. It was just that half her mind was usually elsewhere.

She sighed and sent a pleading look to the kindly man behind
the desk. “Mr. Farnley, I am sorry, but if you could explain some of it in . . .
less formal terms, perhaps. I don’t quite grasp what is being said.”

Her cousin sniffed in disdain, but the solicitor smiled and
polished his glasses.

“Your grandfather regretted that he could not name you his
heir for the purposes of entitlement, but he has left you all else. You have a
town house in London, tenements and terraces throughout the city, a commercial
block in Bath, and a number of other very substantial investments. In other
words, Miss Alyson, you are an extremely wealthy young lady.”

She felt her mouth fall open, remembered to close it, but
then could think of nothing to say. A town house in London? And what on earth
was a commercial block in Bath? She had never been out of Cornwall in her life.
Odd’s fish, how was she supposed to know what to do with these exotic
acquisitions?

Flushed, she said to Farnley with honesty, “I’d much rather
have my grandfather back. What do I do with all those things? Why didn’t he
explain things to me before?”

Farnley turned his palms up in helplessness. “I suspect he
had hoped to live to see you happily married to some fine young man who would
know how to take care of these properties. He kept mentioning it was time to
bring you out in society, but first you were too young, then your grandmother
died, and then, selfishly, he preferred to keep you to himself when you
expressed no desire to leave Cornwall. Money has a way of taking care of
itself, and I will be more than happy to deal with any problems that arise
until you are prepared to make some decisions.”

“I’m sure you will, you old humbug,” the new earl scoffed, “but
as head of the family, I’ll see that Miss Alyson’s affairs are managed
properly. The first thing I will do is have my own solicitors examine your
books.”

Her cousin had a way of holding Alyson’s attention but not
pleasantly so. She gaped at his rudeness. Then, when he sent her a triumphant
look which seemed to mark her as part of his entailment, she recovered some of
her senses.

Rising, she held out her hand to the solicitor. “Mr.
Farnley, if I understand you rightly, the inheritance is mine to do with as I
wish. I wish you to continue to look after it, and if it is advisable for me to
have someone else go over the books, I will have the courtesy to send you a
personal letter with the name of the man I have selected. Will that suit, sir?”

Farnley rose and accepted her hand with a shake and a
familial pat. “That will suit excellently. I’d recommend that you visit London
whenever you are prepared to travel. I will be delighted to introduce you to
your city home.”

Alyson ignored the rude noise of the macaroni and allowed
herself the comfort of knowing she had one friend in the world. Only too
shortly, he would be gone and she would be left with the despicable fiend who
had apparently inherited her home.

It didn’t take long to discover that old routines were
irrefutably gone. After the guests had all left, Alyson tried to find comfort
in familiar duties, but what point was there in planning menus when there was
no grandfather to appreciate them? And when she took Peabody out for a walk,
she could have no expectation of running into the earl as he argued with one of
his tenants or rode his fields. She had no one to share her books with, no one
to appreciate the first crocus blooming, no one to talk to at all.

The new earl finally showed up at dinner looking much the
worse for what must have been a long bout of drinking. Alyson gazed at his
disheveled, uncovered hair with dismay. She hastily returned her attention to
consuming her food. Her grandfather had never joined her at dinner unshaven and
unwigged.

Nervously she felt his gaze follow her as she left the room,
but he didn’t speak. For the first time in her life, she contemplated the
security of the bolt on her chamber door.

She wasn’t certain she welcomed Alan’s arrival the next day.
She walked along the cliff ridge to be alone, to feel her grandfather’s
presence in the strong wind off the sea, to discover what it was best for her
to do. Seeing Alan was not conducive to deep thought.

He dismounted, extending his hand with every expectation of
her taking it as she always had. When she just stood there, the wind whipping
at her mantilla, he gazed down at her with a small frown. “I have worried about
you, my love. You looked so pale the other day, but the servants would not let
me in to see you. I know you have suffered a terrible loss. I wish I could
offer you some comfort.”

Alyson stood proudly, although she trembled inside. She had
grown up that night when he had made it clear her illegitimacy destined her
only for the life of a courtesan. That didn’t mean her heart stopped fluttering
like a caged bird when he was near. She clutched the folds of her cloak. “I am
fine, thank you, Alan. It’s chilly out here, and I was just returning to the
house. Will you excuse me?”

She turned away, but he wouldn’t let her escape. His hand
closed over her shoulder, pulling her back into the circle of his arms.

“Don’t, Alyson. Don’t throw it all away just like that.”
Pain racked his voice as he lifted his gloved hand to her cheek. “I made a
mistake. I’m not afraid to admit it. I was a fool. But don’t you see? You
cannot go on as you have been. Soon the neighbors will be carrying tales about
your living with a man not your husband, and the scandal will be enormous. For
once in your life, Alyson, you must make some decisions quickly instead of
turning your back on problems. Or if you would, let me make them for you. You
know I have only your best interests at heart.”

The warmth of his hand was so tempting, the solace of his
voice such a boost to her spirits, that Alyson almost succumbed. She wanted to
be enfolded in his embrace again. She wanted it to be last summer, when all she
need do was take his hand and his kisses rained down on her like heaven. She
had lived in bliss then.

Only, he had taught her what lay outside her dreams.

She allowed Alan to wrap his arms around her, and she rested
her head against the strength of his chest as she had so longed to do. She
needed this small piece of comfort to do what she must. It would have been so
easy to accept his apology and forget there had ever been a rift between them.
Except, once open, her eyes could not be blind again.

“You had only my best interests at heart when you offered
for Lucinda?”