A Lady's Wish (13 page)

Alex had no worries that the Earl of Poole’s hunters would track him down. The
Cavalier
lived much like its master, present one day, gone the next. The devil himself threw up his hands at the farcical journey into mingled heaven and hell Alex took every spring and summer for weeks upon end.

He loved the sea, its breadth and depth, scent and texture. He needn’t be a blasted pirate to partake of it. But as much as he envisioned a different sort of enjoyment of the ocean, he could not give up Redstone. Not yet.

Propped at the helm, Big Mattie threw him a surly farewell, all bluster. Below, a skiff bobbed upon the green water, sailors from prow to stern with oars in hand. Alex climbed down the rope ladder and took his place in the stern. Finally he turned his gaze to the land.

The
Cavalier
had come in sight of his property the previous night, but he hadn’t allowed himself to look. Now he took his fill of the coastline’s narrow strips of gold sand and jutting gray rock painted with verdant moss, jewel-like beneath the sky’s shuttered gaze. Beyond the coast, protected from the wind by the hill’s crest, sharp, sloping fields of emerald green dotted with sheep or striped with early crops gave way to pine and elm woods and winding streams, fragrant with fresh water.

The sight met his senses like the beckoning arms of a woman, shapely, beautiful, full of promise. It was always this way. While at sea, he wished to be nowhere else. When heading toward home, he wanted nothing but his land. It was the tragic irony of his life that he spent the lion’s share of every year in his Mayfair mansion.

It hadn’t always been thus. Not until that night when Lambert Poole looked him dead in the bloodshot eye and assured him that they were alike as two brothers.

The skiff pulled south a league and came ashore along a modest dock Alex had built four years earlier for the purpose. In the shadow of a low cliff, overhung with stripped trees and striated rocks, a cavelike indentation provided the ideal place to shift identities. A half-mile walk inland brought him to a cottage at which his valet stored fresh linens and a change of clothing. The day still hung gray but without fog. If they’d seen the
Cavalier
from the house, Tubbs would be at the cottage waiting for him.

Alex climbed from the boat and waved off the sailors. He started up the path away from shore with nothing but a pistol and a dirk tucked in his boot, legs swiftly steadying to land. The transition never bothered him. Seven weeks at sea did not suffice to dim the sensation of walking upon solid earth. More than enough time had elapsed, however, to make him eager for his first stop when he returned to London. La Dolcetta awaited. When Alex’s valet met him at the cottage door, his placid face a study in grimness, the voluptuous opera singer’s boudoir seemed all the more appealing.

“What’s happened, Tubbs?” Alex pulled off his hat and cravat, moving to the washstand. He accepted the soap from his manservant and scrubbed at the blacking upon his face.

“Welcome home, my lord. Your brother awaits you at the Park.”

“So Billy said. You will not tell me what this is about, I suspect.” Alex wiped his jaw and cheeks clean and glanced aside at his servant. Tubbs’s expression remained shuttered. “No, of course not. So let us make this quick and be off.”

Tubbs helped Alex dress in fresh garments suitable for his country consequence and they left the cottage. Alex’s head groom already awaited them in an unmarked carriage.

“Fine to see you so soon again, my lord.” Pomley tugged his cap. “Didn’t know when you’d be back this time.”

“It was a short cruise.” Alex climbed into the seat beside the wiry old fellow and took the ribbons. Years earlier Pomley had purchased the rig and team for this use, an unremarkable carriage and unremarkable horses. Alex knew perfectly well it did not fool anyone upon his lands. Pomley and Tubbs were the only men who assisted him with his biyearly masquerade, but everyone else knew precisely who Lord Savege became each spring and summer while away from home. Not one person, from scullery maid to tenant farmer to villager, ever said a single word about it.

Occasionally, when Alex allowed himself to ponder that miracle, it awed him.

“A paying one, as always?” Pomley said with familiar ease.

Alex snapped the reins. “Relatively.”

“The orphans won’t go hungry this year.” The groom’s toothy smile broadened.

“The orphans wouldn’t have gone hungry even if we had picked up only saltwater,” Alex mumbled. They all thought Redstone’s prize money funded the foundling hospital in Exmoor, as well as the home for sailors and soldiers’ widows in Bideford. For the past four years it had. But Alex had more than enough funds to maintain those institutions for decades even without the
Cavalier
’s help.

“More satisfying this way,” Pomley continued. “A right Robin Hood do-gooder, you are, sir.”

Alex stifled a cringe and glanced at Tubbs sitting behind. The valet’s face was stony. Alex chuckled and whipped up the team.

Two miles along the twisting, scrubby road his house came into view. Atop an outcropping close to the coast, Savege Park arose in solitary, hulking splendor. Seat of the earldom for centuries, its construction was a mishmash of styles and purposes, built of local limestone around a medieval keep. Dotted with moss upon the leeward side, stripped by wind and rain of artifice on the windward, its gray stone walls, turrets, and terraces marked the hillcrest as though declaring to enemies, be warned, and friends be ever welcome.

Alex inhaled deeply, anticipating the fresh scent of polished wood, the smooth comfort of dry bed linens, the quiet stillness of his study.

A boy sitting atop a hillock caught sight of the carriage, leapt up and went streaking toward the house. Alex pulled to the stable gate, threw the reins to Pomley, and jumped from the box. Fifty feet took him to the front door. Why bother with further pretense when everyone now knew of his arrival?

The door opened and guilt stirred in his belly. As always.

The butler, a long line of liveried footmen and maids, and the housekeeper met him as he entered.

“It’s fine to have you home, my lord.” His housekeeper bobbed a curtsy, rustling starched cambric. Alex smiled at the woman who had kept his house without aid of a mistress for eight years since his father died and his mother settled in London.

“Thank you, Mrs. Tubbs. It’s good to be home.” He removed his long duster and hat, and his gaze traveled up the broad staircase. Leaning against the top rail, his brother cracked a mild smile.

“All hail the conquering hero.” Aaron Savege’s voice came lightly down into the hall, smooth yet considerably thinner than Alex’s.

Everything about his twin was like that. Alex’s hair and eyes were dark to Aaron’s British fairness. His tall, broad frame contrasted with the slighter, slender form that lent his sibling the appearance of the churchman he ought to have been.

Alex scoffed and started up the stairs. He reached the landing and extended his hand. His brother released a vise grip upon the banister to greet him, clutching the handle of his cane with his other hand.

“Billy made it back to the ship with my note, I assume? He’s a wily one. No wonder you keep him on despite his youth.” Aaron turned awkwardly on the landing and in jolting steps moved toward the drawing room door.

“He carried news of all sorts,” Alex replied.

Aaron cast him a glance, light brown eyes aware. “He told you about the farmer’s girl?”

“And the sailors from the
Osprey
. Which family?”

“Your tenants remain unmolested. The news traveled here quickly, but I don’t know the people. It was south, beyond Carlyle’s land.”

“Then why the urgent missive calling me to shore, little brother?”

“If you were not ready to return yet, what were you doing skulking about the Devonshire coast?”

“The hull needs scraping. I might as well come ashore here than anywhere else.”

“Ah, good. You must have taken a prize or two, then.” Aaron smiled. “Who this time?”

“Two dingies worth nothing—”

“I doubt that.”

“—and Effington’s sloop. Tidy little boat, full of silver plate, port wine, and champagne. The crew was in alt. They’re probably drinking to my lord Effington’s health right now.”

“And the silver will go to the orphans, no doubt. Effington? The fellow who took up with that actress after you gave the woman her
congé
. Didn’t you say that he beat—”

“Yes.” Alex closed the door and strode across the chamber to the sideboard. Aaron lumbered to a chair by the hearth.

“What is the pressing business you mentioned in your note that could not have waited another fortnight or two?” Alex poured a finger of brandy and swirled it in the cut crystal glass. “Has Kitty gotten into a scrape?”

“No, of course not. Last I heard from Mother, she and our sister were enjoying the season in town from the comfort of your house, as always. Gambling, also as always, but not to excess.”

“Then what? Trouble with tenants? I cannot imagine anything you and Haycock together aren’t able to manage without me.”

“You know that’s not true, Alex. He is a splendid steward. Matchless. But no one knows this estate like you do. And the people practically worship you.”

“Silly fools,” Alex mumbled, moving toward the window.

“You’ve no one to blame for it but yourself.” Aaron’s voice hinted at pride. “But it’s not the tenants. Carlyle came over here the other day to offer his daughter’s hand.”

Alex turned from the sight of sloping green lawn and lifted a brow.

“To
me
?”

“Certainly not to me,” his brother replied without a flicker of his even gaze. “Surprised your reputation for game and women still fails to deter hopeful parents? But, you see, you have wealth, title, and good looks to boot.”

Alex ignored him. “Carlyle? Isn’t his daughter firmly upon the shelf by now?”

“You know that?”

“A wise man attends to his neighbors’ business, upon both sea and land.”

“Forgive my impertinence.” Aaron smiled, the expression lightening his habitually sober face. Alex’s breath came easier for the first time since he entered the house. He grinned.

“You are forgiven.” He swept a magnanimous hand through the air. “Continue.”

“You have the right of it. Miss Carlyle is indeed rather long in the tooth.”

“And he hopes to foist her off upon me simply because our lands march?”

“No. She isn’t the daughter he offered, though she is still unmarried, I’ve no idea why.”

“A younger sister then. Or—” He placed a palm upon his chest. “—do not say it—
elder
?”

“Because you are so discriminating when it comes to the age of a beautiful woman, of course,” Aaron murmured.

“Younger, then. So the chit is beautiful?”

“Yes. Quite.”

“Splendid. I shouldn’t wish my countess to be an antidote.”

“Will you take Carlyle’s proposition to heart, then?” His brother’s tone was abruptly serious.

“Why not? I might as well set up my nursery and assure the dynasty with some pretty little thing now as later.” Alex’s blood ran to still, unease slipping through his veins.

“What of Redstone?” his twin said slowly. “You cannot very well continue disappearing every spring and summer for weeks upon end with a wife at home.”

Alex turned back to the window, wishing he stood at the rear of the house where through the glass panes the expanse of sea could be seen stretching far beyond the craggy shoreline, blue, deep, alluring.

“I have been thinking, Aaron,” he ventured.

“Thinking of what, Alex?” His brother’s tone revealed nothing now, damn his training for the Church.

“After the summer cruise this year I might put to shore once and for all.”

Silence met him. Slowly he pivoted about upon the heel of Hoby’s finest. Aaron’s face was like stone.

Alex’s throat tightened. “What would you think of that?” he asked with supreme nonchalance.

“You would sell the
Cavalier
? To Jinan, presumably.”

“She is already his ship for most of the year.”

“She is your ship, Alex, and Jin knows that better than anyone. He only remains with you because—”

“She is our ship, Aaron. Yours and mine, no matter who captains it.” A dull ache settled in his chest. He struggled not to allow his gaze to slip to his brother’s useless leg. “Why don’t you come along on the summer cruise? It will be our last run. We’ll pick off that rogue Abernathy’s yacht, as planned, and a few others I will ferret out in town this month. Maybe an old French merchantier for a finale.”

“A French ship? You would not dare.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Alex squared his shoulders. “The infamous Redstone fears neither man nor government. If they want me, let them come.” He waggled his brows.

His brother’s face relaxed and Alex’s heart began beating again. He could not stand this, the tangled guilt, anger, and hopelessness, the searing regret that would not fade even after three years. He missed his lands and longed to linger at the Park, to walk the hills with his steward and drink a pint at the tavern with tenant farmers he’d known since he was a boy, when he was freshly returned from the West Indies with stories to tell that they listened to kindly.

But blast if his hands weren’t already itching to grip the ribbons and fly to London. Remaining in his twin’s company was simply too difficult.

At thirteen, Alex had learned to withstand the rigors of life upon the sea, and at twenty-three he’d chosen that life for part of each year. He could scud through a storm at ten knots, face off against a ship with twice his weight in guns, stare a musket down the barrel without flinching, and hold a blade to another man’s throat with no hesitation. But when it came to what he had done to his brother, he would rather flee than face the daily reminder.

“You cannot leave the
Cavalier
behind, Alex,” Aaron said quietly. “She is your true love.”

Alex slanted his twin a mock-derisive look. “You think it’s time I shift my affections to a human?”