An Heir of Uncertainty (23 page)

At the sight of his tall, broad-shouldered figure, a rush of longing ran through Lina. How could she ever have accused him of seducing her? He hadn’t lied to her, or made promises he couldn’t keep, or behaved like the heartless scoundrels who’d taken advantage of her mother. She’d given herself to him freely, because she’d wanted him.

She still wanted him.

“Colonel!” Lina called from the top of the rise.

Win whipped his head around. His startled expression changed fleetingly to a look of pleasure, but the look vanished as quickly as it had come.

“My lady, watch, I’m skating!” Julia called, still hanging on to Win for dear life.

“Yes, I see.” Lina gave Win her brightest smile. “If I’m not mistaken, the first time we met you were in a positive lather because she was in danger of running out on that ice.”

“That was before I talked to Mrs. Phelps, and she assured me that some of the younger servants recently skated on this pond and it was frozen solid.” Though his answer was civil enough, he didn’t return her smile.

With a flicker of disappointment, she directed her friendliness at his daughter. “Is this your first time skating?”

“Yes, my lady. Papa says it’s not just for boys, and my aunts skate very prettily.”

“No,” Lina agreed, “it’s not just for boys at all.”

“Do you skate?” Julia asked, gliding a few feet closer even as Win kept a secure hold on her.

She shook her head. “I never learned.”

“Papa could teach you.” Julia’s cheeks were pink with the cold, and she looked far from confident in her ability, but her happy smile made it clear she was enjoying herself.

“I doubt Lady Radbourne is interested in taking lessons from me,” Win said stonily.

“That’s not true,” she protested. “Perhaps after my—after I’ve put off mourning.” She’d been about to say
after my baby is born
but had decided it was not only indelicate, but likely to turn Win even chillier when the inheritance was the primary bone of contention between them. Besides, if she gave birth to the next earl, it wasn’t as if Win was likely to linger in Yorkshire just to give her skating lessons.

But she did feel a silly, girlish longing for him to teach her to skate. It would make a fine excuse for him to put his arm about her, and for them to laugh together, and for her to lean into him and enjoy his closeness. Though even if she’d had skates on her feet at that moment, she doubted he’d be as keen as she was. He wasn’t being rude, exactly, but the warmth she’d felt from him before was noticeably absent.

“Perhaps,” Win said in a cold, flat voice that only confirmed her pessimism.

“When I can skate with no help,” Julia told her, “I want to have a fur muff to keep my hands warm, a great big white one with black spots. I saw a picture of a lady with one and she looked very pretty.”

“It’s called ermine.” Win glanced at Lina, then looked away again before addressing her. “For Julia, the chief appeal of taking exercise is always the fashion associated with it.”

“I’m sure an ermine muff would be warm,” Lina told the little girl, “but what really makes a lady pretty isn’t what she wears, it’s how she behaves.” She hoped it wasn’t the wrong thing to say. Though she would tell her own daughter as much, she had no doubt Win wished he could make all Julia’s dreams come true, including the ones that featured feathers, fur, spangles and ruffles. At the moment, she and her baby were the chief obstacles to that aim.

“That’s what Nurse Drew says. But this lady’s muff was—oh!” The little girl lost her balance, her feet shooting out from under her.

Win kept his hold on her, preventing her from falling and then righting her again. “I’ve got you, poppet. Try to keep your knees bent just a bit more.”

“Be careful you don’t break your other arm,” Lina told him. She was only teasing, for he looked at home on the ice, and despite conducting the lesson one-handed, he was big enough and sure-footed enough that Julia was in no danger of pulling him over.

There was a time when he would have teased back. Now he merely frowned and said, “I wanted Julia to have some fresh air and exercise today, before we undertake the journey back to Hampshire.”

Lina stared. “The...what?”

“We’re leaving for Hamble Grange before the week is out.”

“I don’t understand. I just walked back from Malton with your brother, and he didn’t say anything about leaving Yorkshire.”

“Freddie has a way of ignoring inconvenient realities for as long as humanly possible.”

“But I thought—”

“That we’d be staying until matters were more settled? I thought so too.” There was an edge to his voice, anger and ruthlessness and hurt all rolled into one. “But I know when I’ve worn out my welcome.”

Lina’s heart lurched. He was leaving, and without a thought for the poisonings or the abbey or whether her baby was a boy or a girl. Without a thought for
her.
And, worse than that, it was her doing. She’d accused him of seducing her and sneered at his honor.

Her eyes stung. It was on the tip of her tongue to say
Win, don’t go. I was wrong to say the things I did. Please forgive me.
Even if they had only six or seven more months together, those were months in which she could be happy. She was willing to throw aside every lesson her mother’s mistakes had taught her and become his mistress, if that was what he wanted.

But Jem was standing just a few feet behind her, and Win had Julia with him, and it was too late to take back her own stupidity anyway.

Chapter Seventeen

Chiefly the mould of a man’s fortune is in his own hands.

—Francis Bacon

Lina was silent on the walk home, too downcast to trade small talk with Jem.

Arriving at the dower house, she discovered Silas Battersby packing up his tools in the front hall. With the new plaster set and drying, he’d re-installed the woodwork in her absence.

Lina took off her cloak and handed it to Jem to hang on its peg near the door. “Good day, Mr. Battersby.” She admired the work he’d done. “That looks as good as new.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“I don’t suppose you found any of that treasure we talked about, hidden in the wall?”

He laughed. “Nay, I found naught in the wall but an old crowbar.”

“A crowbar?”

“Aye, my lady. Who knows how long it’s been there.”

She shook her head at the strangeness of it and continued to the drawing room.

She expected to find Cassie reading by the fire, but the room was empty. As much as she enjoyed her sister’s lighthearted chatter, for once Lina was grateful Cassie was out. This way, there was no need to mention her encounter with Win, no need to put on a cheerful face. She picked up her embroidery and sank down on the sofa with a sigh.

So Win was leaving, going back to Hampshire. Why did it hurt so much that he’d been distant with her today? Why did his leaving make her feel as if he’d ripped away a piece of her and was taking it with him?

Because you’re in love with him.
She closed her eyes, the truth too painful to face in the cold light of day.

She hadn’t planned on it. She’d never expected to fall for any man so soon after Edward. She’d certainly never imagined that man would be a widowed ex-soldier with more looks than fortune.

But if Win wasn’t the same gawky, unthreatening youth Edward had been, then neither was she the same frantic, single-minded girl she’d been before her marriage. For most of her life, every day had been a mission to escape her mother’s fate—to avoid falling for a handsome charmer, to hang on to her virtue until she had a wedding ring on her finger, to find wealth and security at last.

Now she had that security. She was far from rich, but Win was right—she and her baby were never going to be poor in the same grim and desperate way she’d been as a young girl. She would never again have to live on potatoes and stale cheese, or go to bed hungry at night.

She was a countess, and the child she carried would be either a noble lady or the next Earl of Radbourne. Her marriage contract guaranteed that even if she gave birth to a daughter, that daughter would have a sizable dowry when she married. The same contract ensured that she and Cassie would always have food on their table and a roof over their heads. She could afford to follow her heart.

And her heart chose Win. The problem was, she’d finally met someone more wary than she was when it came to love. She’d tried to force him to take a leap he didn’t want to take, and now he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. But if she ached with longing now, how was she going to feel when he went back to Hampshire?

A commotion at the front of the house made her lower her embroidery to her lap. She listened with her head cocked to one side. Unless she was much mistaken, that was Cassie’s step, but who was with her?

Lina had her answer a moment later, when a windblown but smiling Cassie led Dr. Strickland into the drawing room. The doctor was in his evening clothes, carrying a wicker hamper she recognized as Cassie’s.

“Look who I came across in Malton, Lina,” Cassie announced.

Dr. Strickland set the hamper on a side table. “I hope you don’t mind, Lady Radbourne, but Miss Douglass asked me to dinner.”

Lina had the uncomfortable sense there was something more afoot. Cassie, inviting Dr. Strickland? Wasn’t she trying to discourage the doctor’s attentions? “You’re most welcome, Doctor. Only last week, we were forced to have our meals in the sitting room, but thanks to Colonel Vaughan, the dining room fireplace is working again and now we can eat like civilized people.”

At her mention of Win, Cassie traded a look with Dr. Strickland.

Lina observed the look with a sinking feeling. Oh, yes, there was definitely something afoot.

* * *

The walk back to the abbey took Win twice as long as usual. With his broken arm, he couldn’t give Julia a ride on his shoulders. Instead he carried their skates and slowed his steps to match his daughter’s.

“Papa, are you angry?” Julia asked as they neared the house.

He was angry, or something very like it, but he’d thought he was hiding it well enough. “Why do you ask that?”

“Because you’re doing this.” She tensed her shoulders and breathed a few sharp, noisy breaths in and out through her nose.

With an effort, he forced himself to relax. “I’m certainly not angry with you.”

“Are you angry with Lady Radbourne?”

If he were Freddie, he would say either
I’m so angry I can hardly stand to look at her
or
I want her so much that looking at her makes me angry
, though he wasn’t sure which. Instead he said, “It’s complicated.”

“That means yes, doesn’t it?”

“No, Jules. It means I wish circumstances were different. Only one of us can be happy, either Lady Radbourne or I, and that’s what makes me angry.”

“Why can only one of you be happy?”

“Because there can only be one Earl of Radbourne and only one owner of the abbey.”

“But the abbey is big. Why can’t you share it?”

Why, why, why—Julia was going to drive him mad. “Grown-up ladies and gentlemen don’t share houses with each other.”

“Why not? You like her, don’t you?”

“I like her very much,” he admitted with a tightening in his chest. “But it’s improper for a man and a woman who aren’t part of the same family to share a house unless they’re married.”

“Then you should marry her.”

“She doesn’t want to marry me.” Though that wasn’t exactly true. She’d proposed to him. He was the one who’d rejected the possibility.

“Why not?”

“Because poor men don’t marry rich ladies.”

“Are you poor, Papa?”

Win quickened his steps. “Not poor, exactly, but...poor enough.”

Poor enough, and ineffectual enough. It gnawed at him that he was leaving with the poisoner still at large and no way to guarantee Lina’s safety, but what else could he do? They’d both made their positions clear. She wanted nothing further to do with him. He couldn’t marry her, but neither could he bear seeing her day in and day out, knowing her regard had turned to contempt.

Julia’s head tilted to one side. “If you’re poor and Lady Radbourne is rich, why does she live in a house that smells funny while we live in the abbey?”

“We’re only staying at the abbey for the present. We don’t know yet whom it really belongs to, me or Lady Radbourne. We live at Hamble Grange.”

Julia had to skip to keep up with him. “At least Hamble Grange doesn’t smell funny.”

Despite his foul mood, she spoke with such artless pride that a reluctant smile tugged at Win’s lips. “No, it doesn’t.”

“I think you should marry Lady Radbourne now,” Julia said sagely, “while our house smells better than hers does.”

Win’s forehead creased. Freddie was blind to social conventions, and Julia was innocent of them. In the past twenty-four hours, both had suggested he should marry Lina. Neither Freddie nor Julia would consider him a fortune hunter if he did, even if the Radbourne wealth went to Lina’s baby. They just wanted him to be happy.

And, together with Lina, they were the people he loved best in all the world.

Lina’s question echoed in his head.
So this is about your pride?

Was that really all that was keeping them apart—a stupid masculine need to show the world he didn’t want or need a woman’s money? A chance to prove he was better than Harriet and her father had believed? Even if Lina had a boy, the title and fortune wouldn’t really belong to her, but to her infant son. And, damn it, why should he care what the rest of the world thought of him anyway?

Except it wasn’t just what the world thought of him, it was what Lina thought. If he married her with nothing of any worth to bring to the match—if the only way to save Hamble Grange was with her financial intervention, and even he knew she was above his touch—it would be Harriet all over again. She’d realize he was nothing but a disappointment, an expensive mistake. She’d know she could have done better, and he’d see it in those magnificent eyes of hers every time she looked at him.

He could abide almost anything but that.

* * *

Dinner with Cassandra and Dr. Strickland was an odd affair. Cassie kept giving her fretful, worried looks, and though they spoke in polite commonplaces, Lina feared that was only because they were under the watchful eyes of Dr. Strickland and the footman. She wasn’t looking forward to the end of the evening, when the doctor would take his leave and Cassie would be free to unburden herself of whatever grievance had her in a stew.

But that was pure optimism, as it turned out, for Lina didn’t have to wait for Dr. Strickland to go. They no sooner rose from the table and filed out of the room than the doctor pulled her aside and said in a fierce, rapid whisper, “Lady Radbourne, though I agree with what your sister means to say to you tonight, I beg you to believe that
she
came to
me.
I did not and I would not betray your confidence.”

She stared back at him for a moment in dumbstruck surprise, then gave a sharp nod and followed Cassie into the drawing room.

She was still settling herself on the sofa across from Cassie, Dr. Strickland taking the place beside her, when Cassie folded her hands and said in a low, solemn voice, “Lina, I have something very serious to discuss with you.”

Lina glanced uneasily at Dr. Strickland. “Cassie...”

“It’s all right,” Cassie said. “Dr. Strickland knows how I feel. I asked him here tonight to lend countenance to my arguments.”

“Miss Douglass has expressed her concern to me, and I understand her anxiety,” the doctor said, though he looked far from comfortable.

Cassie had worry lines between her delicate brows. “I didn’t say anything to you last night, because I wanted to gather my thoughts and approach the problem calmly. Then I had my attack, and it hardly seemed the time to take you to task when you were beside me in my hour of need.” She fixed a gaze of blue-eyed appeal on Lina. “But I can’t hold my tongue any longer.”

“Do go on,” Lina said coolly, though she could already sense what was coming.

“You promised me you were going to keep a more fitting distance from Colonel Vaughan, yet you not only stayed behind at the abbey last night when you could’ve come with me in Mrs. Channing’s carriage, but you didn’t get home until one o’clock in the morning. I heard you come in, and when I looked out my bedroom window, whom should I see walking away but Colonel Vaughan?”

Lina wanted to say
So he escorted me home. What of it?
The words were on the tip of her tongue, especially now that Win had rejected her marriage proposal and made up his mind to leave Yorkshire. But Dr. Strickland knew the extent of the intimacies she’d shared with Win, and she could scarcely pretend that had amounted to nothing.

“How can you have forgotten poor Radbourne so soon?” Cassie said, observing her hesitation.

Lina’s chin came up. “I haven’t forgotten Radbourne. I was a good wife to him, and I’d be a good wife to him still if he were alive. But he’s gone now, and nothing I do can bring him back.”

“No matter what kind of wife you were while Edward was alive, that won’t stop tongues from wagging now.”

“For your information—” She was about to finish
there’s nothing between Colonel Vaughan and me, not anymore.
It was the painful truth. But something in her rebelled at the notion of denying her own feelings because scandalmongers might presume to judge her for following her heart. “If people did talk, heaven knows it wouldn’t be the first time someone in our family has been gossiped about or disapproved of. Am I to live my whole life worrying about the very people who made Mama’s days so miserable?”

Cassie’s forehead creased. “I don’t think you appreciate the gravity of the situation. So far I’ve tried to confine my objections to appearances, because I know you won’t like what I’m about to say, but—I’m convinced Colonel Vaughan must be behind the recent poisonings.”

“No.” Lina shook her head. “Absolutely not. Would he have rescued me from being trampled by the Mail if he was the killer?”

“He would if it persuaded you to abandon your defenses. What better way to get close enough to do you some mischief than to win your trust through a sham rescue attempt?”

“There was nothing sham about it.” Lina’s hands clenched in her lap. “I can vouch for only two people who were in Malton that day, and those people are Colonel Vaughan and his little girl. I was looking directly at them when I was pushed, and he was busy ensuring she didn’t dart out into the road.” With a pang Lina remembered the rush of attraction that had hit her, seeing for the first time what a careful and attentive father he was. Was there any chance she could win back his good opinion?

“Then someone must have bumped into you, but what of it? It doesn’t prove Colonel Vaughan is trustworthy in general. It could just mean that when you fell in Malton, he was quick to take advantage of it.” Cassie slid to the edge of her seat. “The other incidents were all planned and deliberate, and each one involved poison. Well, who had more opportunity to poison the brandy Mr. Niven drank than Colonel Vaughan did? Doesn’t it seem strange to you that he never touched a drop?”

“No, it doesn’t seem strange. Mr. Channing didn’t touch a drop either.”

“Oh, Lina.” Cassie shook her head slowly back and forth in disappointment. “I realize Colonel Vaughan is handsome, but you can’t let that blind you. Everything was fine here until he arrived in the neighborhood.”

Lina glanced to her right, to where Dr. Strickland sat, looking as if he wished he were anywhere else. “What do you think?”

His shoulders heaved in a thoughtful sigh. “I confess I don’t know what to think. I’ve talked about this with Mr. Channing, and I can’t make up my mind about Colonel Vaughan. He seems sincere enough, when I speak with him. At any other time, and in any other circumstances, I’d hope we might become friends. But Miss Douglass is right about the timing of these occurrences—they began with the Colonel’s arrival. Then, too, there’s the question of motive. No one else stands to profit as he does if something should happen to your child.”