A Dangerous Man (40 page)

"Leah," he said, his deep voice rumbling near her ear.
"Why don't you let Harris show our guests to their rooms? It
has been a long journey, and I think young Matthew might
like a snack, then a rest. What say you, young man? Are you
hungry?"

Leah felt his head nod against her shoulder.

She gave him one final squeeze, then leaned back on her
heels. "Run along then, Matthew."

Alison ran up to them. "Do not worry, Aunt Leah. I will
share my toys with him. Uncle Richard says he is my cousin.
I have never had a cousin before" She took Matthew's hand in hers. Chattering all the while, they followed Harris and the
nurse up the stairs.

Rachel opened her mouth, as if she were about to speak,
then she spun on her heels and flounced down the hall.

In her shock, Leah had forgotten Rachel was even in the
room. She turned her cheek into Richard's chest, fingers
clawing his waistcoat. Richard pulled her into his arms. Her
shoulders shook, her silent tears soaked his cravat, and he
held her as she wept.

The house was silent, the children long since tucked into
their beds. Richard listened to the fire snapping in the hearth
while relishing the simple pleasure of holding the woman he
loved in his arms, her cheek resting against his shoulder, her
hair spilling enticingly over his chest. The swell of her belly
pressed against his side, but the child lay quiet.

Light from a single candle on the bedside table caught the
amber in her eyes as she leaned up and kissed his jaw. "You
are so wonderful, Richard. You have given me the greatest
gift. However did you find him?"

He brought her knuckles to his lips. Her fingers trembled
beneath his palm. "After you told me of your sister, I hired
Bow Street Runners to search for her"

"But you never said a word"

"I did not want to raise your hopes" He traced his fingertips along the curve of her arm. "I had no notion if they would
succeed in finding her after all these years"

Her sigh sent her breath fluttering over his chest.

"Do you know what happened to her? How she ... died?"

If only some means existed to spare her this pain, but she deserved the truth. "For a time, she wandered about from place
to place. She finally settled in Holdhan where she worked in a
spinning factory."

"Holdhan?" She pushed herself up on her elbows, her eyes glittering green shards of stained glass reflecting the turmoil
of her emotions. "It was one of my father's factories, was it
not? Do not bother to deny it, I see the answer in your eyes.
He knew where she was all along, and he did nothing to help
her. I don't know why I am so surprised, but I am ""

He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, wiping away
her tears. If only he could as easily soothe her aching heart.
"She seems to have had a great many friends there. It may
comfort you to know that she spoke of you often."

Leah tilted her face into his hand. "If you can tell me, I
would like to know. When did she ... die? How?"

"A year ago," Richard said quietly, his throat tightening.
"Of a lung infection. I am told it is a fairly common illness
among the factory workers"

She collapsed in his arms, buried her face against his neck.
Her tears scorched his skin, clenched his heart. He knew only
too well the anguish of losing a sibling. If only he could spare
her this pain, take it into himself.

"I should like to go there to visit her grave-oh, dear God,
she does have a grave, does she not?"

"She had a proper burial," Richard hastened to reassure
her. "She rests in the parish churchyard. I will take you there
after you have recovered from your lying in."

She was quiet for such a long time, the only sound her
softly flowing breath, Richard thought she had fallen asleep.

"Who cared for Matthew after she died?" she whispered,
her anguish all too apparent in the huskiness of her voice.

He sighed. There was no easy way to say it. Better just to
spit it out. "He was in the parish poorhouse."

"Oh, God," she cried. "He is lucky to be alive."

"He was safe," Richard said firmly. "It was a clean, decent
establishment. The children well-fed and properly clothed.
And now he is here with you"

"Oh, Richard, I never thought I would meet him, or ..

"Shhh," he whispered. "Sleep now, my love. It has been a trying day. We will speak of this again tomorrow" He wrapped
her in his arms and murmured soothing words until she slept.

He didn't know how he was going to tell her the rest. It was
such a complicated tale. But he decided he could wait a day
or two. Perhaps he was acting the coward, but he didn't care.
It would break her heart.

Leah stood at the salon window the next morning, watching the children play. Supervised by their nurses, they chased
each other up and down the garden paths, oblivious to the
winter wind or the black, billowing clouds sweeping across
the sky.

"She is beautiful," Rachel said, coming to stand beside her.
"With all that red hair. Much too beautiful to be a nursemaid.
Much too refined. Mark my words, Leah, all is not as it seems"

Leah clenched her jaw, but said nothing. Her head was
throbbing from lack of sleep, her dreams haunted by memories of her sister. Of the fights they had indulged over the
most foolish of things, of the secrets they had shared, of their
mutual grief at their mother's passing.

Now Catherine was dead, and Leah was left to grieve alone.

As she watched Matthew turn a somersault on the hard,
packed earth, thoughts of all Catherine would miss in her
son's life looped through Leah's mind. Kissing his scraped
knees. Soothing him after a nightmare. Welcoming him as he
brought home his bride. She pressed her fist to her lips. She
had to take care not to show her grief for fear of frightening
Catherine's son.

The rising wind kicked up tiny whirlwinds of dust. The
children marched toward the terrace just as the first raindrops
hit the glass. With a quick prayer that Rachel would not
follow, Leah brushed her hands down her skirts and hurried
to greet them as swiftly as her overgrown girth would allow.

"Did you know Lord Greydon arrived this morning?" Rachel called after her, her voice echoing off the stuccoed
ceiling.

Leah did not stop walking or give any indication she heard
Rachel's words, though her breath caught in her throat.

She told herself his presence here meant nothing, but she
did not believe it. On the rare occasions she had met Lord
Greydon, he had stared at Leah with such relentless intensity,
prickling sensations had shuddered over her skin.

Her stomach churning with sick premonition, she marched
to the library. Voices raised in heated debate drifted through
the wood. A momentary fear urged her to turn away, but she
gave the door a swift push.

The conversation stopped mid-sentence as both men turned
to stare at her. She did not look at Lord Greydon. She did
not want to see his reaction or the expression on his face.

She saw only Richard as he strode toward her.

His dark eyes narrowed on her face. His jaw, rigid and
tense as he took her elbow in his hand, confirmed her fears.

"Why is he here?"

"I sent for Greydon because I needed to speak with him."
The touch of his hand was warm and familiar, his voice
aching and low. "Why don't you wait for me in your rooms?"

She shook her head. "No. I want to know."

He tightened his grip, exerting a gentle pressure as he led
her toward the door. "I would prefer to speak with you in private, after I finish my interview with Greydon"

"No" She dug her heels into the rug, pulled her arm from
his grasp. "I know it involves Matthew. I want to know."

She grasped his hand. "Please, Richard, I want to know. I
can bear no more secrets popping up to hurt me"

The dark fringe of his hair fell into his eyes as he gave a
stiff nod, then he led her to a chair near the hearth.

The room seemed inordinately quiet, even the fire seemed
subdued, dying in the grate. Leah was intensely aware of the
rain hitting the windows, but she could not hear it.

All she could hear was the pounding of her heart.

Lord Greydon collapsed into a seat across from hers. She
could see his long legs, encased in buff pantaloons, his elbows,
swathed in green wool, leaning on his knees, the top of his head
as he buried his face in his palms.

When he finally raised his red-rimmed gaze to hers, Leah
silently screamed she did not want to know, could not bear to
hear what he had to say.

Perspiration clung to his forehead. He started to speak, but
the words came out garbled. He cleared his throat and began
again. "I thought you were her, you know. The first time I saw
you, I thought you were Catherine."

He closed his eyes, and Leah knew he was seeing Catherine in his mind. Her vision dimmed. She could not seem to
draw in enough air. Richard tightened his grip on her hand.

"I met Catherine when I was staying with my uncle at
Greydon Hall," Pierce finally said, his voice shuddering. "I
saw her walking across a field, carrying a basket. She was so
beautiful." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I
didn't want to startle her by charging across the field on my
horse. So I tied him to a tree, then chased after her on foot. I
think, at first, she was frightened. She wouldn't talk to me, or
tell me her name. But I was enchanted. I persisted and pursued her until she told me her name was Catherine Burton"

He raised his gaze to Leah's, his eyes as red as the logs
burning in the grate. "Why did she lie about her name?"

Leah stared into the fire. She did not want to feel anything
for this man, this seducer of her sister.

"My father-" A sob choked off her voice. "My father
would not have wanted her to know you."

Pierce said nothing, but his chest hitched as he drew in
his breath. "I went to that same field every day for a week,
hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Just when I had given up
hope of ever meeting her again, she appeared. She smiled,
and I knew she was happy to see me"

"She used to help the vicar deliver parcels of food to the
poor," Leah said, but Pierce didn't seem to hear her.

He stared out the windows, as if fascinated by the rain.
"We talked for hours. She agreed to meet me the next day.
After that, we met every day." He fixed Leah with a hard, disconcerting stare. "I did not use her. I did not cast her aside. I
loved her. I wanted to wed her. I received an urgent summons
from my mother. My father was very ill, not expected to live
through the week. I went to our usual meeting spot-I waited,
but she never came! I delayed leaving as long as I could, but
I had to return home before it was too late."

"Of course you did," Richard said with quiet sympathy.

Leah closed her eyes. How cruel fate was. If not for his
father's illness, Catherine might have married this man she
had loved. If she had married him, she might still be alive.

"As it was, I barely made it," Pierce whispered. "My father
died mere hours after I arrived. Then I had to see to Mother
and her affairs. It was nigh onto two months before I could
return. I went to all the surrounding villages, searching for
Catherine Burton. No one knew her." He laughed, a sound as
harsh and bitter as the wind driving the rain in from the
ocean. "At least now I know why. Finally, some old codger
pointed up the road and told me Miss Burton lived at Heallfrith Manor. He must have meant your aunt, but at the time I
thought he meant Catherine."

Pierce clenched his shaking hands into fists. "I pounded on
the door. When the butler answered, I demanded to speak
with his master. Over and over, I called the man Mr. Burton.
How he must have laughed at me, never bothering to correct
my mistake. He was not pleased to see me, although he didn't
seem surprised .. ."

Leah closed her eyes against the picture Pierce was painting of her father's cold-hearted cruelty.

"I told him I was in love with his daughter, that I wanted to
wed her," Pierce said, his voice, a raw, aching wound. "Your father merely laughed, said Catherine wanted nothing to do
with me, that she'd never tie herself to a nobody like me. I
didn't believe him. I demanded to see her, but he said she'd
left to marry another. He produced a note saying as much. Of
course, now I realize it must not have been written in her
hand"

Pierce pushed his fists into his knees. "What choice did I
have? I left. Over the years, I convinced myself that I hated
her. In truth, I never stopped loving her." He rubbed his hands
over his face, but his tears returned faster than he could swipe
them away. "I never saw her again. I never knew she loved me
still. I never knew about our child. If only I had known-"

"And all that time," Leah said, her voice scraping over the
rawness in her throat. "My father knew where she was, and
he never said a word, never offered to help her."

An unbidden, but deep compassion for this man who had
loved her sister so well brought words of comfort to her lips.
Before she could speak, he went down on his knees and
seized her hand.

"Your Grace ... Leah ... I want my son"

Leah pushed him aside and struggled to her feet.

"No," she said as she paced to the window. She stared at
the trees in the distance, bending beneath the wind, blurred
by the rain. Richard came up beside her, lifted his hands as
if to draw her into his arms, but she could not show any weakness.

She backed away, turned to face Pierce, hardened her heart
to the anguish in his eyes. She would not lose her nephew.

"He is my son," Pierce said, standing before her, his jaw
rigid, his arms tightly clenched by his sides.

"So you say, but how do we know it is the truth and not
some elaborate story you have woven "