Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy (2 page)

“It had been a mistake coming to Linton Park for the Festive Days,” he silently told his image as he looked out upon the celebratory markings of the upcoming Christmastide. Aidan had been gone from his home for months: Since early October when he had thought to court Cashémere Aldridge and finally claim a bride, who would bring life, rather than death to Lexington Arms.

Death had haunted his manor for more years than he cared to recall. When he was but ten, Aidan’s mother and his sister Aylene had succumbed to consumption after being caught in an icy storm. He and Andrew had been away at school at the time and had missed the worst of the disease, as well as his mother’s funeral. Aidan had always carried the shame of not having said a proper farewell.

While he was away in service to his country, Andrew had died in a duel over his mistress, and a second letter had arrived in Bombay to announce Aidan was Lexford’s new heir; and so he had asked Shepherd to be released from his duties, and Aidan had made his way home. He had not been in attendance for Andrew’s funeral either. That had been some three years prior. Aidan had arrived on Lexington Arms’ threshold to find a devastated father, a grieving household, a pregnant widow, and a devious plan for him to marry Lady Susan Kimbolt. But Death had not been finished with him.

“Word has come from the gatehouse that Godown’s carriage approaches.” Aidan turned his gaze from the window to his friend James Kerrington, Viscount Worthing.

“Godown? On Advent Sunday? The marquis would not travel on the Sabbath unless something of import had occurred.” Aidan abandoned his self-possessed misery and automatically followed Kerrington toward the main foyer.

Lord Worthing’s pace quickened as he led the way through Linton Park’s halls. “I pray there has been no other attempt on the marquis’s life.”

Aidan lengthened his stride to keep apace of Worthing. He had last seen Gabriel Crowden, the Marquis of Godown, less than a month prior in London. Aidan had escaped the “care” of the Duke and Duchess of Thornhill and had joined most of the Realm, including Godown, for London’s Short Season.

In October, Aidan had sustained a crippling blow to the back of his head during that whole kidnapping debacle of the wrong Aldridge twin. He had thought he was wooing Miss Cashémere, but the lady and her sister, Miss Satiné, had switched places. He should have known sprightly Cashémere Aldridge required a heavier hand than was his customary nature, but before he could discover the truth, a crazy Scot had ruthlessly attacked Aidan. In retrospect, he had convinced himself t if Lachlan Charters had not delivered the near fatal blow that had rendered him incapable of remembering major events from the past few years, he would have sniffed out the deception. Even if his personal life remained in shambles, Aidan would like to think himself capable of efficient detective work.

Instead of claiming a wife, after the attack, he had spent a month recuperating at Thorn Hall under the care of Brantley Fowler’s personal physician. Every time he thought of the duke’s attempt at charity Aidan smiled. “At least, Fowler keeps an excellent wine cellar,” he had told Kerrington upon his arrival at Linton Park.

As he waited on the main entrance steps for Godown’s coach to maneuver the rough road leading to the manor, Aidan thought of those few brief encounters in London, which had assured him, it was time to return to Cheshire.

At Lord Graham’s ball, he and Godown had shared cheroots on the balcony. They had played their parts in bringing Sir Carter Lowery’s older brother, Lawrence, to toe the line. The future Baron Blakehell had made a very public proposal of marriage to an American girl named Arabella Tilney. It had been quite the spectacle with Lawrence Lowery dropping to a knee before the girl on a crowded dance floor. Sir Carter had orchestrated the events, and his friend was more than pleased with the outcome.

“A bit dramatic,” Aidan had observed when he and Godown had secured the privacy of a shadowed corner of the balcony. “Shoot me if I act so foolishly.”

Godown’s eyebrow had risen in a taunt. “You are not a believer in love? When came the change?”

His friend’s words had stung more than Aidan cared to reveal. He stiffened, totally unprepared for the marquis’s question. Among his Realm associates, Aidan was known to wear his heart on his sleeve. It seemed he had continually looked for love where none could be found. As he had purposely stared off in the darkness to compose his thoughts, he announced, “Maybe once. A long time ago.” Had he meant to convince the marquis or himself? He had followed his declaration with a smile: Feigned frivolity. Such gestures had become his shield against the loneliness. “Of course, that was before Thornhill invited me to Kent.” The deflection had worked its magic. Any curiosity the marquis held evaporated. “You cannot fathom the number of times I stumbled upon the duke and duchess in an intimate embrace. I swear, Godown, it is enough to make one wish for blindness. Has the man never heard of a locked door?”

The marquis laughed lightly. Aidan understood perfectly: Godown and Thornhill held a healthy competition waged privately in the most devious ways. He was relieved Godown had dropped the subject of Aidan’s personal life being in disarray. “At least, the duke’s lack of propriety has sped your recovery.”

Aidan had shrugged noncommittally. His devils were his own, and some things were best left unsaid. “Not completely, but the physician has assured me my memory will return.” It was at that moment Aidan had realized he must return to Lexington Arms to set his life aright. If he did not know his past, how could he find a future? So despite having received an invitation to return to Thorn Hall for Christmastide, Aidan had chosen to accept the one from Lord Worthing. After all, Derbyshire was so much closer to Cheshire than was Kent. “Do you suppose either of us will ever find what the others have?” he had ventured when his conversation with the marquis had lulled. Aidan had longed for the peace of family since the day the headmaster had unceremoniously announced his mother’s passing.

Not surprisingly, the marquis had possessed no more of an answer than had he, and in some ways that particular fact had comforted Aidan. To know he was not the only one to have dodged when he should have run straight into love’s embrace eased his pain.

“Unfortunately, I have no time for pursuing love,” Godown had confessed. “I must marry soon, but it will only be from duty, not from affection.” Three of the seven with whom Aidan had served had married for love, and although he celebrated his friends’ marriages, with each, he had seen his own prospects dim. How could God grant all seven true happiness?

“Where is your mind, Lexford?” Worthing asked as Godown’s carriage rolled to a halt.

Aidan gave himself a mental shake. “Just wondering how I might extricate Mr. Hill from Linton Park now that my man has known Lady Worthing’s maid’s heart.”

Worthing chuckled. “I suspect with Hill’s growing ardor, I must soon employ another lady’s maid for my wife.”

As Lord Worthing stepped away to greet the marquis, Aidan murmured, “Even my servant has found true regard. Yet, Lady Love does not look kindly on me.”

“Ah, Godown. It is you.” Worthing called as he descended the steps. “When word came from the gatehouse of your arrival, I thought Ole Taylor had lost his reason.” The marquis nodded to Aidan, but his friend appeared nervous, a characteristic rarely associated with Gabriel Crowden.

Aidan descended the steps to greet the man. “You do realize this is Advent Sunday?”

Crowden’s lips twitched in mock amusement. “I told John Coachman to travel the back roads. I had to escape Lord Brant’s house party. I will explain in more detail later.”

Aidan’s heart clenched. Only moments before, he had assumed Crowden would know failure in marriage, but something of the marquis’s stature spoke of anticipation. Resignation had left Lord Godown’s shoulders to be replaced by eagerness.
Not nerves, after all
, Aidan thought.

“Let us go inside.” Worthing gestured to the still open door. “Out of the cold.”

When Crowden paused awkwardly, Aidan knew everything had changed for his friend. “I have someone with me,” the marquis said matter-of-factly.

Aidan stifled the sigh of regret. Instead, he plastered a smile upon his lips. Good-naturedly, he slapped Crowden on the back. “You sly fox. You and Miss Haverty have decided to elope, and you require our assistance to outrun the lady’s relatives.” Something inside him cracked. Of course, he was aware the marquis meant to marry Miss Alice Haverty, but Crowden’s marriage was not one of true regard. His friend had said as much in London. It was meant simply to save the man’s title. Yet, an undeniable peacefulness had lodged itself squarely upon the marquis’s countenance. Had Crowden found love with Miss Haverty? Aidan could not imagine how it was so. Personally, he had found the girl an insipid twit, but an elopement would speak of passion.

Crowden halted Aidan’s steps. “It is not what you think, Lexford,” the marquis cautioned.

Aidan wished to scream that none of them knew what he thought. They had never known what he thought–only what he allowed them to see. Shepherd and the Realm saw him as a man who could make others believe he wished to be their truest acquaintance. That was the role he had played in saving Eleanor Fowler from Louis Levering. The amiable friend. Yet, that was certainly not he. They knew nothing of his deepest fears and longings. Hell! Even he possessed no idea who he once had been. Lachlan Charters’ blow had scrambled his emotions, along with his mind.

Turning to the carriage, Crowden extended his hand into the darkness. “Come, my Dear, we have explanations to make.” The marquis delivered a hard stare to Aidan and Worthing, daring either man to comment on the marquis’s companion, the former governess Grace Nelson.

Aidan understood immediately. Despite the evidence, which spoke of Miss Nelson’s involvement in several attempts on the marquis’s life, Crowden held a strong affection for the woman.
The peaceful countenance
, Aidan considered.
Crowden loves the woman. He may not realize it, but he does
. The thought saddened Aidan. He would wish his friend well, but if what he expected proved true, then the odds against his own happiness had increased exponentially.

“Worthing. Lexford. You previously hold Miss Nelson’s acquaintance.”

Worthing found his voice first. The viscount bowed stiffly. “Of course, Miss Nelson, welcome to Linton Park.”

To assure them of what Aidan instinctively knew, Godown announce, “Miss Nelson has agreed to make me the happiest of men. We had hoped Linworth’s offer of Linton Chapel might extend to our joining.”

*

Dutifully, Aidan had sat with Worthing and Crowden after Lady Worthing had taken Miss Nelson under her care. He had even argued the point that the marquis should not consider marrying a woman who they suspected of extensive duplicity, but Aidan had known the futility of such reasoning. He had wasted his voice. Every gesture. Every facial expression said the marquis’s heart was engaged.

Later that evening when he had escaped the loving couple, Aidan had sneaked from the house and had made his way to the folly overlooking the first of the lakes on Linworth’s property. The conversation between Lord and Lady Worthing, Lord Godown, Miss Nelson, and the Countess of Linworth had naturally turned to the wedding, and for the first time ever Aidan suddenly felt uncomfortable with his friends. Stepping inside the structure, he sat upon the cold cement bench. Instinctively, he pulled his great coat closer about him and donned his gloves. The December chill crept into his bones, but Aidan never considered returning to the warmth of his chambers. He required time to decide what was best for his future, and a deep cold matched his heart.

“God! What a quagmire!” he groaned aloud. He scrubbed his face with his hands to clear his thinking–a gesture of which he had become more aware of late.

Physically, he was strong enough to resume his duties as Viscount Lexford of Lexington Arms, Cheshire, but mentally and emotionally, Aidan was less certain of his success. His injury had, literally, shaken him to his core. Until that incident, he had thought himself well aware of his role in life. He was the dutiful second son of Viscount Arlen Kimbolt, Lord Lexford. He had abandoned the woman he loved when his father had pressed him to do so, and he had returned to Cheshire to marry a woman who did not love him, again at his father’s insistence. “Ironic that both women were one in the same,” he reasoned.

Aidan braced his arms on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. His temples throbbed with the pain of remembering. “Susan,” he whispered her name into the night. “Why?” From the day he woke from his injury in a room with Lady Worthing as his caretaker, Aidan had repeated his wife’s name and the question of
why
she had chosen his brother over him at least a thousand times. When Susan had been alive, he had never had the courage to ask her. “She was so overcome by Andrew’s death, I could not drag an answer from her.” Now, she was gone, and no opportunities remained.

He rubbed his temples roughly, making tight circles with his fingers. “The bastard died in defense of another woman, for Christ’s sake,” Aidan protested. “I would have never deserted you. Could you not have seen that?” he asked his wife’s image.

“Damn her!” He leaned his head against one of the white washed columns and closed his eyes. “We were doomed from the beginning,” he murmured to the stillness. “How could we make a marriage from the shambles of Andrew’s insensibilities?” Yet, there were no answers to be had in the night’s stillness.