The Reluctant Earl (19 page)

For the first time since Julian had met him, Vance’s face relaxed. “I can’t imagine anyone accusing Leah of extravagance. She will be vastly relieved to have security for her future.”

Julian drew in a deep breath. “Speaking of Miss Vance’s future, I should like to offer her a permanent position and permanent home. With me. As my wife.”

Vance’s jaw dropped, leaving his mouth agape in a most comical fashion. “M-my lord?”

“You are her closest relative, I believe.”

“Yes.”

“I thought to seek your permission before I ask her.”

“Leah passed her majority some years back and has been independent for even longer. If she will accept you, I’ll not gainsay her choice.”

If? Did Vance calculate that once endowed with the Regent’s reward, Leah would find Julian a less attractive prospect? “Very good. I’ll ask my solicitor to draft the appropriate papers.” Julian rose and offered his hand.

* * *

Leah tossed the volume of poetry onto the jumbled pile of discarded books. How quickly forced inactivity dulled the mind, even with Lady Langstern plundering the vast resources of the Chambelston library for her amusement. Her wound itched. Her back ached. And her stomach demanded stronger fare than the physician yet prescribed.

Afternoon light poured through the window and emphasized the room’s cheery yellow where her meager bundle of belongings slumped against the wall. Leah flipped back the sheet and edged off the bed. Her muscles protested the movement as she knelt beside the small bag containing all her worldly belongings.

She withdrew her mother’s shawl, arranged it on the desk and unfolded it to reveal the three pieces of David’s comb and her father’s long-neglected Bible. Her finger traced the edge of the worn leather binding, then circled around the cover. Gingerly she returned to her position on the bed and thumbed through the pages.

Her father’s neat penmanship recorded the date of David’s death. She flipped past sermon notations in the margins to a scrap of paper stuck between two pages. Blank. Disappointment thudded again in her stomach, as if she’d half expected a message from her father. His face flashed across her memories, the picture gray and hazy with the years.

And then she chanced to glance at the typeset words, carefully underlined on some long-ago day.

Trust in the Lord, and do good.

Words her father had quoted—so often she could almost hear his deep, rich voice reading them to her even now. She’d failed on both counts. Indeed her failure to trust had led directly to her poor choices. At this final message from her father, conviction fractured her remaining pride, and she bowed her head.

“Am I interrupting?” Lady Langstern danced into the room as Leah was finishing.

“I was just...soul searching.”

“Did you learn anything new?”

Leah tapped the Bible on her lap. “Too many ugly truths about myself, I fear.”

“It’s always better to face them than to bury them. Falsehoods have a way of rising to the surface.” Lady Langstern gestured to the untidy pile of Leah’s belongings still littering the desk. “I came to ask if you would like to get out of bed—but I see you already have.”

“This is a lovely room, but...”

“It gets smaller with every minute. I understand. When our physician restricted me to bed for the last two months of my confinement with our youngest, I discovered I should very much dislike prison.” Leah joined her laughter. “If you promise not to overexert yourself, I’ll have the maids bring water for a bath.”

“Oh, how lovely!”

Lady Langstern withdrew. Leah clutched the Bible by the cover, then paused to read the words one more time. A curious jumble of emotions assailed her.
Trust—
the lightness of a burden surrendered.
Do good—
the responsibility of new integrity assumed.

“I thought you might enjoy a fresh gown also.” Lady Langstern breezed back into the room, three maids encumbered with buckets trailing behind her.

“Oh, you needn’t go to trouble on my account.”

“Trouble? For the Regent’s rescuer? That’s how the papers refer to you these days.”

“Papers? They haven’t published my name, have they?” She’d never get another position with that kind of notoriety dogging her.

Lady Langstern draped a swath of green fabric over a chair and assisted Leah out of the bed while the maids filled a tub. “Julian has kept your identity a secret.”

Leah sank into the warm water and enjoyed the blissful moments of a maid washing her hair. Her eyes drifted shut as soothing waves lapped against tense muscles and the angry red wound in her side.

“Come, Miss Vance. The bath seems to have exhausted you. If you are going to sleep, we should get you to bed again.”

“Oh, please don’t send me back. I’m not weary, just savoring the sensation.”

“Very well. If you have the strength, Julian would like to speak with you in the drawing room.”

Leah’s heart gave an involuntary leap despite her best efforts to restrain her response. “Of course.” One of the maids assisted her into the gown while the other two removed the tub. If she were going to stay, she’d have to learn their names. The impossible longings filled her with a fresh wave of loneliness.

“As I thought.” Lady Langstern gave Leah a self-satisfied smile. “The green draws attention to the same color in your eyes.”

The maid arranged Leah’s still-damp hair in a style that made her feel...almost pretty. Perhaps it was only the gown, such a stark contrast from years of the dark browns and grays common to her position.

“Thank you, Violet,” Lady Langstern said as the maid curtseyed and backed out of the room. “Miss Vance, if you are ready, I’ll assist you. I won’t have you navigating those stairs alone.”

Together they made their way along the hall to a broad sweep of stairs that pointed to a grand entrance hall lined with family portraits.

“That one is my cousin, the late Earl of Chambelston.” Lady Langstern nodded to a picture of a man with a powdered wig and roguish grin. Familiar blue eyes stared back at Leah. “Julian’s father.”

The beautiful blonde beside him could only be Chambelston’s mother. Insecurity intensified the weakness in Leah’s limbs—until she focused her thoughts on others. Chambelston’s mother. Teresa’s grandmother, whom she’d never met. Perhaps Leah’s last bit of service to the family could be to narrow the rift that had caused so much heartache.

“Here we are, Julian.” Lady Langstern tugged Leah into a restful room of soft blues and whites where Chambelston rose from a chair. Beside him, a fully-laden tea tray awaited. “Miss Vance is still recovering. Don’t tire her.”

“I shall take excellent care of her.” His customary smile flashed. “Won’t you sit, Miss Vance?”

Leah crossed to an elegantly upholstered chair. “Thank you.”

“I had Mrs. Parker bring tea.” Tension sat tightly on his shoulders as he took the chair next to her. “Would you... That is, unless you are yet too...”

“I’m fine. Only a little frustrated from so much idleness.” She filled two cups with the steaming brew from the pot.

“I’m thrilled to see you doing so much better. You scared several years off my life.” He accepted the cup from her, then set it on the table beside his chair.

“I was a little concerned for my future, as well.” She added a bit of sugar to her drink and took a sip. “Rather remarkable how a brush with death focuses the mind. In fact, I have a favor to ask of you.”

His brows rose and his fingers tightened around his cup. “Anything—to the half of my kingdom.”

Despite the tension swirling around the room, she smiled. Compared to her, he really did live like a king. “I hope it won’t come to that, but it may. I noticed a portrait of your mother in the entrance hall, and it reminded me of Teresa’s expressed wish to meet her grandmother.”

“And you think I could convince my sister to allow that?”

“It strikes me your sister is in your debt for your rescue of Teresa. Yes, I think you might be the mediator your family needs.” Another sign of God using something bad to create something good? Amazing how she could see the patterns when she looked for them.

“I have to return to Northamptonshire to fetch Caro. I promise to speak to Elizabeth.” His now-familiar smile flashed. “But today, I would like to discuss an offer with you.”

Her rapidly pounding pulse impossibly accelerated. “An offer?” She took a sip of tea to calm her agitated nerves.

“I, ah, as I told you before, I admire the way you managed to provide for yourself and the way you protect and care for others like Teresa and Caroline. You might have noticed I hold you in high regard.”

“I thought you disapproved of treason.”

The steady blue stared at her as if assessing her secrets. “Why did you do it?”

The teacup trembled in her hands as Leah lowered it to the saucer with an audible “chink.” She quashed the lies that rose so naturally to her tongue. Trust God. “I needed the funds...for someone else. Someone unwell.” Or so she had convinced herself at the time.

“Oh, Leah!” He yanked the trembling cup and saucer from her hand—sloshing tea on the rare rug—and shoved the china onto the tray. Then he wrapped a rough, masculine hand around her locked fists. “Your invalid friend. I long suspected...but why didn’t you tell me?”

Tell him, that her sister was crazy? Watch the admiration in his eyes transform to horror like the last time? How much worse would be Julian’s rejection.

“Marry me, Leah.”

Chapter Fourteen

“I
— What?” Leah stared at the startling intensity glowing in the deep blue of Lord Chambelston’s eyes.

“My apologies. I meant to go about this properly.” He dropped to one knee in front of her. She tried to snatch away her hands, but his grip tightened. “Miss Vance, my regard for you has grown over the days and weeks I have known you, and I have reason to believe you are not indifferent to me. You have within you the power to make my remaining days happy ones. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Her breath caught in her lungs, unable to escape past the welling lump in her throat, and her hands warmed inside his, radiating a bittersweet ache into her heart, into her soul. A tawny lock dipped over his brow, beckoning her to stroke it back in place. For so many years she had thought she’d never find this.

Love.

She searched his smile but detected no hint of mockery, only eager anxiety. And a solution to all her problems. Never again need she grovel to a haughty employer or agonize over how she would care for her sister. Except...trust.

His broad shoulders filled his coat as they had that first night, that night when he had discovered her searching his belongings. But unlike that first meeting, today his eyes gleamed with boyish joy rather than scorn. She focused on his face until his visage blurred with the suppressed emotions. Her skin rapidly alternated between hot and cold in the same manner her mind vacillated between the selfish desire to accept and the honorable necessity to decline. As the silence stretched, the light in his eyes dimmed and his grip on her wrists relaxed—as if he guessed her answer before she spoke.

Leah tugged her fingers free. “I can’t.” The harsh whisper reverberated across the tension in the room.

His smile faltered and emptiness shadowed his eyes. “Can’t?”

She fumbled for the words she’d never thought to speak. “While I am cognizant of the great honor you do me, my lord, I must refuse your gracious offer.”

The awkward pause swelled, then he rose and retreated with slow, bruised dignity. “In that case, please accept my apologies for any distress I caused you.”

Distress
was far too mild a descriptor for the bitter grief coursing through her veins. Escape. She glanced at the door so very, very far away, feeling the urge to flee before she rescinded her refusal and brought misery to him. And her. “If there is nothing else, my lord...?”

“No, no. I’ve said more than enough. Indeed I’ve presumed too much.”

She bounded out of the chair, bumping the table with the tea tray and producing a cheerful jingle of china that contrasted so peculiarly with the shattering of her heart. Did he hear it, the tiny shards splintering across the dreams of her future?

“I’ll speak to my sister about Teresa.” The quiet words reverberated through the room, through her. “I’ll see she meets her grandmother.”

“Thank you.” Without another glance—a look which would at any moment break her resistance—she bolted out of the room, past the censorious portraits and up the vast staircase as quickly as her stiff, bruised muscles permitted.

“Leah!” Alec’s voice halted her headlong rush to solitude. “I didn’t expect to see you about already. I was coming to visit you.”

His words drew her attention to the rekindled ache in her side provoked by her madcap dash, and yet, not even the pain of her wound compared to this searing of her soul. “I was feeling better, though I fear I may have overtaxed my abilities.”

“Let me assist you to your chamber.” Alec seized her arm and half-carried her through the hall.

“Thank you,” she said once she’d dropped onto a chair.

“You’re far too pale. I’ll have one of the maids bring you a drink.”

“No!” Leah stopped him before he reached the bell pull. “Why did you wish to see me?”

Alec lowered himself to a chair on the other side of the window. Late afternoon sun poured through the lace curtain and created variegated shadows on the floor. “I wanted to say my farewells. I’m leaving. On tonight’s mail coach.”

“Tonight! But...where are you going?”

“Lord Chambelston has procured a pardon for me, and a position on the Duke of Sutherland’s estate in Scotland.”

“Scotland? So far.”

“The crown rather frowns on treason, prior service to the country notwithstanding. Lord Chambelston thought it might be best for my future to spend some time away from London.”

“Yes, I can see how that would be wise.” For Alec, at least. Another fissure opened in her heart and allowed more loneliness to bleed through. “I’m grateful to him.”

A wry smile twisted Alec’s lips. “I don’t think he applied himself on my account.”

“But you did save the Regent’s life.”

“Chambelston would tell you I did right in the eleventh hour—once I had no other option.” Alec covered her hand with his. “Leah? Are you certain you are well?”

She brushed her eyes against the green sleeve of the borrowed gown. “I’m only selfishly missing you.”

“Aside from Phoebe, you are my last living relative. I won’t go if you need me.”

And risk the gallows for her sake? “Oh, no. Scotland is a perfect opportunity. It was your mother’s homeland, after all. I expect to find another position presently.”

“Another position?” Alec’s green eyes narrowed. “But Chambelston... That is, he spoke to me, and I thought... I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn. I had assumed he would propose before I left.”

“You knew he was going to offer?”

“Well, yes, I’m your only male relative. It’s only proper he should consult me first. But I don’t understand. Did Lord Chambelston propose or not?”

The crack in Leah’s heart widened. “He did.”

“Then...” Alec rose from the chair and paced to the fireplace. “Why are you seeking a position?”

“I refused him.”

“Refused him? But, Leah, you would never want again. Besides, it’s quite obvious the man cares deeply for you—nor are you indifferent to him.”

“Not at all.” She stared at the floor where a green-gold vine pattern twined its way around the border of the rug, so like the way her feelings for Chambelston had grown to encircle her heart. “Indeed, I love him. And that’s why I can’t marry him.”

“Now you make no sense.”

“Once I thought as you. Such a match would solve all my financial problems.” Leah raised her eyes to meet Alec’s troubled gaze. His face blurred with the depth of her emotions. “But I can’t tie him to a woman with a mad sister.”

“I see.” He fidgeted with a porcelain shepherdess for several long moments, then returned her to the mantel. “Did you tell him?”

“No. But the knowledge would yield the same result. He’s an earl. He has responsibilities to his tenants and his family and his future.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to Scotland if I’d known I would leave you alone and unprotected.”

“Alec, you must go—for your own safety.”

His stare was long and level and laden with meaning. “Very well. But promise me you’ll tell Lord Chambelston the truth. You—we—owe him that much.”

* * *

“Miss Vance?” The masculine baritone harmonized with the piano’s lingering notes as Leah reached the end of the movement. “I fear I must interrupt for a moment.”

Her heart began to quicken even before she raised her eyes from the sonata score to the man who hesitated in the doorway. Morning sunlight highlighted Chambelston’s hair and created a manifest contrast with his muted eyes. Because of her refusal? Had she wounded him so? “Of course.” It was his house, after all. His instrument. She lifted her hands from the keyboard and swiveled on the stool. “I trust my playing didn’t disturb you.”

“Not in the manner you mean.” He advanced into the music room and paused beside the piano, a letter in hand. “I thought I should give you this before I leave. It bears the Regent’s seal.”

“The Regent!”

He passed her the folded sheet of parchment and appropriated a nearby chair.

Leah snapped open the page and began to read... Her heart beat a furious pulse in her ears. “F-five thousand pounds!” The shocking words escaped on a whisper.

“You saved his life, you know.”

“But...” Five thousand pounds—from the notoriously parsimonious prince. Never again would she worry about Phoebe’s care or about locating employment. “Did you have a hand in this reward?”

“I might have suggested a woman in your position would better understand the depths of his gratitude if he accompanied his thanks with an appropriate remuneration.”

Another debt she owed him. First her cousin, and now this. “And Alec?”

“Considering Mr. Vance committed high treason, I don’t think he should expect much beyond his pardon and new position.”

“No, of course not.” But certainly nothing prevented her from sharing her windfall—if her proud, independent cousin would accept a portion. She’d send him some once he settled into his new situation. He’d departed the night before for Scotland and thinking of him elicited fresh loneliness. Perhaps Alec could even resign and return... She glanced sharply at Chambelston, only now becoming aware of the full import of his words. “What did you mean, before you leave?”

The muscles in his jaw tightened and his lashes dipped over the empty darkness of his eyes. “I just received a letter from Elizabeth on the morning post. Caroline is missing.”

“Missing! But...how? When?”

“Yesterday. She seems to have simply vanished. No one can find any sign of her. If she wandered outside...”

She’d have surely succumbed to the cold by now.

Chambelston’s hands fisted, the skin across his knuckles turning tight and white. “This is not the first time the maid lost—”

“My lord, you cannot blame anyone until we know all the facts.”

“I should have expected as much from you, after your clash with the magistrate last week.” A droll smile tweaked his lips, though it never found his eyes. “In truth, I blame myself most of all. If I hadn’t taken Caroline from Somerset, from all that is familiar to her, to a place where she was barely tolerated...”

But it was worse. He’d stayed in London extra days to await Leah’s recovery from the gunshot wound and subsequent fever. In order to propose. If he’d returned to Northamptonshire immediately after Killiane’s failed attack... The cold fingers of guilt clamped around her midsection. If Leah had been honest with him from the beginning, if she’d told him about her sister rather than letting pride hold her tongue, he would have returned immediately to Lady Caroline rather than linger here, near her. Trust. Realization dawned in Leah’s mind. When her erstwhile suitor—supposedly a man of God—had failed her, she’d transferred that disbelief and cynicism to her relationship with God Himself. And from there, to everyone else.

Chambelston rose from the chair. “You may remain here as long as you like. I spoke to Lady Langstern. As her husband is deceased and her children are grown, she is willing to stay with you until you feel well enough to travel. Indeed I believe she enjoys the assignment.”

Finding a purpose for one’s life oft imparted that result. But Leah had an obligation to fulfill. “I’ll go with you to Northamptonshire.”

“But you’re still recovering, and the journey will be arduous.”

“No more difficult than worrying from so far away.”

For several seconds more she thought he would remain adamant. Then he nodded. “Very well. But I’ve already given orders for the carriage to leave in thirty minutes.”

“I have little enough to pack. I’ll be ready.”

* * *

Julian rested his head against the carriage’s plush upholstery. Awkward silence sat beside him, like an extra occupant in the vehicle. How he already missed Harrison’s presence, which would have provided him with the gentle reassurances of faith and eased some of the tension of the enforced intimacy with the only woman to whom he’d gifted his heart.

Only to discover she didn’t return the sentiment.

He forced the disappointment from his mind—only to have nothing left to occupy his thoughts but terrifying fear for Caro. Where could she have gone? Not far. She hadn’t the vigor for a long journey by foot. Dread overflowed from his soul, the sure and certain knowledge only something tragic explained her disappearance. Trust and reliance seemed so impossible. Surely no one could find a greater purpose in his sister’s suffering...or worse. Julian sent up silent, awkward pleas.

“What will we do when we get to Rowan Abbey?”

He started and glanced across the carriage to the sympathetic hazel gaze. “As we will arrive very late, probably not much tonight. I pray Elizabeth has already located her. If not, we shall have to make one more examination of the house tonight, and then expand our search to the grounds and nearby villages on the morrow.”

“Do you suppose she could be hiding? Perhaps she got angry and hid in a fit of pique.”

“No, Caro’s mind doesn’t work that way. She doesn’t have the ability to design that kind of scheme.”

“Fear, then. Could someone have frightened her into hiding?”

“Perhaps, but I can’t see her remaining quiet and concealed for so long.”

“Tell me more about Lady Caroline. If we are to find her, it would be helpful to have a better understanding of her likes and habits.”

Julian allowed his mind to draw a picture of Caro’s engaging smile. “She likes most food but especially ham. She enjoys dancing—in a pattern all her own, of course—but she tires easily. And she loves music.” Like Leah.

“Has she disappeared on other occasions?”

“Not for any length of time. She escaped from her nurse on her first day at Rowan Abbey, but I found her in a chamber near to mine—Fleming’s, as it turned out—looking for me.”

“Does she prefer solitude or the company of others?”

“Caro likes being with people. She treats everyone, even new acquaintances, as friends.”

“A person who tires easily would almost certainly not wander far. But someone who trusts too readily could easily be lured away.”

“For ransom? Elizabeth’s message mentioned no such request.”

“What about revenge? You did foil the plot to assassinate the Regent.”

“The credit for that belongs mostly to you and your cousin. I would expect you to be in more danger on that score. Fortunately we’ve managed to prevent the papers from discovering your identities.”