The Wolf of Winterthorne: Scandalous Secrets, Book 4 (9 page)

“I
t is about bloody time you arrived, mate,” Logan slapped his best friend on the shoulder.

Colin MacAlistair studied him, “What is so urgent that I had to whisk my wife, her grandmother, our daughter and three carriages to this god-awful place?”

“Hey,” Logan snapped his brows. “This is my home to which you refer.”

“And what a lovely home it is, darling,” chirped a sweet voice from the foyer. Garbed in violet and splashes of red, the cherubic older woman with silver ringlets waved a cane embellished with feathers in the air, pointing to the many wolves that adorned the great hall, etched in the walls and ceiling, with their eyes glaring from all corners.

Imposing.

Just the way Logan liked it.

“I love what you’ve done with the place. All the wolves …” The Dowager Viscountess Fiona Weston pursed her lips before continuing, “appear friendlier. Have you been feeding them something different?”

Colin coughed in his hand while Logan burst into laughter. “Hello, gorgeous.” He wrapped his arms around the rotund woman.

“Ah, my scoundrel,” she placed his cheek in her gloved palms. “We have missed you. We held a spectacular event just last week and it pained me not to see you brooding in the corner of our grand ballroom.”

Logan smiled. “I only brood when you won’t dance with me, love.”

Colin’s wife, Eve, bounded through the door holding hands with a toddler with cherubic cheeks that resembled those of her great-grandmother. Following close behind was a nanny and several footmen carrying trunks. Based upon the grimaces on the men’s faces, the trunks were quite heavy.

“Darling, we’re home,” she announced, arching a brow towards Logan as he kissed the back of her free hand. “Why the mysterious missive and odd request for feminine garments? Have you eloped? If so, is she blind or will you allow her to redecorate? All these canine faces are hideous, Logan.”

“I find them rather cheerful,” Fiona walked towards the large, five-foot tall statue of a snarling wolf and placed her cloak around it.

The room fell silent.

“What?” She glanced from her granddaughter, to Colin then to Logan. “Horacio appears cold. Poor thing. He isn’t wearing his winter coat and it is quite blustery today.”

Tipping his head to the side, Colin asked, “When did you name that statue?”

“Horatio and I had a lovely conversation the last time our party called upon Logan,” Fiona fluffed some feathers on her cane. “It seemed appropriate to be on a first name basis with him. Wolves are people, too. Or so a previous owner is rumored to have said. I know my history of this magnificent estate.”

Fiona rapped her cane against the polished marble under her feet. “One must respect history. Especially in regards to Winterthorne. Didn’t one of its guests get devoured by a wolf generations ago, shortly after insulting the majestic creatures?”

“You do know your history,” Logan winked at the kind woman. “Brava.”

Fiona smiled at him. “I know our family’s history. And you are a part of that, my darling boy.”

The sentiment was so sweet and unexpected that it sent his senses reeling. He felt oddly off-kilter as a flurry, like a blustery winter snowstorm, whirled within Logan’s abdomen.

Family was something he never had and the Dowager Viscountess considered him to be such, vocally acknowledging it for all to hear. The proclamation awakened something inside of his dark soul.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, hope took flight. What, however, did he wish for? He once would have craved a family such as this. Until he ceased believing that his dreams could ever be fulfilled.

His close relationship with Colin and his family was enough. Colin was his dearest friend, had been for years. They met during the war and had been partners ever since. After Colin married Eve a few years ago, Logan had been welcomed into their family, though he always watched from the fringes. That was one of the reasons he purchased Winterthorne … because, though his estate was secluded, it was situated on the outskirts of Northamptonshire allowing proximity to Colin, Eve, Fiona and their daughter, Abigail.

The Dowager Viscountess seemed to understand Logan’s shock, seemed to sense his inner turmoil, for she approached him and kissed his cheek.

“Rest assured, you are family, dear boy, and I plan to hear all about your latest antics, though I shall first proceed with Nanny and Abigail to our rooms,” Fiona held out her hand to the little girl who first ran over to her and hugged the statue before taking her great-grandmother’s hand.

“Oh, look, Abigail has grown accustomed to embracing the imposing wolf,” Eve’s voice rose an octave, her sarcasm deeply embedded in a singsong voice. She shot Colin a sly look that made her husband laugh in response.

Logan admired what Colin and Eve shared. The love. The mutual respect. The ability to communicate without saying a word. Each knew the other and was able to understand what the other was thinking or feeling at any given moment.

Theirs was a love unlike any Logan had ever encountered. Though Logan learned a long time ago never to travel the path of envy, every now and then he found himself wishing he’d been allowed just a sliver of that same happiness.

But that was impossible.

His chance had come and gone. Instead, he had taken a different route. One that led to blood, and death. One that led to Colin, his closest friend and business partner. In truth, Colin was like a brother to him. So, Logan chose to revel in Colin’s bliss because no one deserved it more.

After instructing his footman to show his guests upstairs, Logan led Colin and Eve into his library. It was his favorite room. The aroma of wood polish and leather gave the room an inviting feel, as did the mahogany and leather furnishings while massive shelves lined the lofty walls, brimming from floor to ceiling with books.

The collection, amassed over many years by each of the estate’s previous owners, was nothing if not impressive. In fact, Logan had insisted the library’s contents be included in his purchase of Winterthorne. Though some might consider his request odd, that was simply because they were not privy to the truth.

It was something Logan chose to keep hidden, a truth so powerful that it both shamed him and produced the most pride:

Logan was once incapable of reading.

Until someone took pity on him and taught the orphan boy caked in mud to read.

Arabella.

Yes, Bella had taught him to read.

And to love.

At one point in time, Arabella declared her undying love for Logan. Until Sybil caused her to reconsider. Though Logan possessed no proof, he was certain that it was Sybil’s intrusion that changed Arabella’s mind about him.

The mere thought of the latter made his skin crawl.

“Who is this mystery woman?” Colin asked as he escorted Eve to a sofa in the middle of the room. “There is a woman, is there not?”

“Isn’t there always a woman involved?” Logan mused, reclining in a chaise in the middle of the small seating area while Colin settled beside Eve.

Husband and wife couldn’t be more different in their features and countenance. Colin was rugged and tanned with dark hair and piercing blue eyes while his wife was fair and blonde with green eyes the soft color of spring moss. Complete opposites, their marriage was based upon love and mutual respect. Opposites who proved that love unifies even the most unlikely of couples.

At present, said couple was waiting in silence for Logan to elaborate. He was quick to oblige. “She appeared last night. Bloodied, caked in mud with no memory of who she is and bruises that indicate someone attacked her.”

“How dreadful,” Eve’s mouth was agape.

Colin leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “You have no idea who this woman is?”

“I was acquainted with her during my time on the streets.” No need for Logan to elaborate.

“Arabella?” Colin gasped, aware of his friend’s past all too well.

Threading his hand through his hair, Logan shook his head. “I thought it was at first. Then I saw the initial engraved on her bracelet. It is her sister.”

Exhaling a deep breath, Colin muttered, “Bloody hell.”

“What do you require from me?” Eve asked with a conspiratorial wink. “You both wish to talk in private. What can I do?”

“Please see her, make sure she has all of the essentials. And, if Fiona would consent, allow her to remain in residence as Sybil’s chaperone.”

Of course, Sybil’s reputation was well past the need for a chaperone but it would help Logan with his plan. No one could make someone feel more at ease than Fiona and Logan required all the help he could get since he didn’t trust that he would never again lose his temper like last night.

Nor could he trust that he would never be tempted to forget all his guest was capable of, all of her machinations, and kiss her back the next time she kissed his cheek.

If a next time ever materialized, that is.

After all, Sybil was sloshed last night. Who is to say she would ever kiss him again? Why would he even want her to?

Get a grip
,
man,
Logan silently commanded as Eve patted his arm in acknowledgment before heading upstairs.

A silence befell the room as Logan arose and proceeded to his desk, standing in front of a bank of windows. He studied the landscape, tawny and beginning to decay as the early winter settled upon them.

“Are you disappointed?” Colin clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t blame you for it.”

Logan pondered his friend’s question for a long while. “I thought it was Bella and …” he picked up a jade paperweight, something he brought back from India.

To remind him of where he had been.

To ensure that he would never forget the acts he once committed.

To safeguard his soul.

“For one brief moment, I wanted it to be her. Until I realized that whichever sister I had encountered was inconsequential. Because Bella made it quite clear that she could never love me, would never love me. And her sister brought about that decision,” Logan paused.

He wasn’t being entirely truthful and, based upon the deep crease etched in his friend’s forehead, Colin knew it.

“I still want her to be Bella,” scratching his scalp, Logan leaned against his desk with a ragged sigh. “I find myself scrutinizing that woman and when she laughs a certain way, or smiles, I see Arabella. I must remind myself it isn’t her. And, regardless, no matter which twin wandered onto my grounds, nothing would change my life or my choices.”

“No, but it could bring you peace.”

“I’ve got all the peace I need, mate,” Logan waved his hand in the air. “All of this is mine, is my peace, is my bliss.”

Colin looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head with vehemence as he pointed to a canine staring down at them from atop a bookshelf. “There is a reason you chose this place. With all these creatures watching you. You chose this estate because it is your reparation. This place, its history, allows you to wallow in guilt and self-loathing until Fiona, or Eve, or me finally drag you out for a brief moment. After which, you return to your fortress and hide from everything you once assured me wasn’t immoral.”

“Shall we say that I’ve converted to your way of thinking on the matter?” Logan rubbed the cool, smooth stone between his palms. “Perhaps your conscience rubbed off on me, mate.”

“I pray that isn’t the case.” Colin laced his fingers behind his neck.

“You are happy,” Logan placed the stone on his desk, adjusting it to where it normally rested. “That is most important to me.”

His friend sighed. “What are you going to do with Sybil until we discover who is hunting her? I assume I am in charge of that task?”

Nodding, Logan affirmed, “Yes, and I want you to ensure that Bella is safe. Last I heard, she was a governess in London. Before her fall from grace, if you will. I haven’t a clue what became of her since being caught with her employer.”

“Nasty business,” Colin shifted his weight. “I didn’t know how to broker that subject with you.”

Logan shrugged. “Yes, I heard. Hasn’t most everyone?”

“It was the scandal of the season,” his friend concurred.

“How ironic. She thought I was beneath her only to later disgrace herself. Unfortunately, I lost track of Arabella after that. By the time I arrived at her employer’s residence, she had already fled.” It concerned Logan that she would simply vanish, though it wasn’t the least bit surprising considering the weight of her indiscretion and how public it had become.

“Will you be all right? With Sybil, I mean?” Colin scratched his chin. “You won’t—”

“Won’t what, mate? Hand her over to the first attacker who knocks on my door?”

His companion arched his brow.

“Nah, what fun would that be?” Logan feigned the brightest smile he could muster.

“That—” Colin paused, studying Logan. “That is what I fear. Amusement in the form of retribution.”

Logan placed his hand in his trouser pocket. “Never fear, mate. I plan on teaching Sybil a lesson. But I will protect her, no matter how much I detest myself for doing so. Fiona will aid me in that regard.”