Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (37 page)

"That is where he thinks Letitia and Wesley have gone," Gabriel replied.

Sophia frowned. But in her note Letitia said that she and Marcus were eloping. "Not Gretna Green?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Julian thinks Gretna Green is what they want us to believe. He believes they plan to be married by special license in Yorkshire."

Sophia's brows were still knitted, even as relief washed over her. At least Letitia hadn't taken complete leave of her senses. If this was true then she must have known Wesley's intentions before running off.

"Where would Mr. Wesley get the money for a special license?" Licenses were expensive— too expensive for a man of Marcus Wesley's income.

"It would be easy enough for him to get the funds. He could borrow, or if he did not want anyone to know, he could always fence something, a piece of art, silverware, jewelry."

Jewelry.
Sophia's head snapped up. "Letitia's jewelry case was empty when I checked her apartments yesterday. I thought she had taken it all with her, but perhaps they 'fenced' some of it, as you put it, to pay for the license."

"It would not surprise me," Brave replied, obviously deciding he'd stayed out of the conversation long enough. "Wesley might not have a lot of his own cash, but as Penderthal's heir, he would have plenty of friends who would know where to go to discreetly pawn items."

Pacing the carpet, Sophia rubbed her hand along the back of her neck. Her shoulders were so tight she could have run a bow along them and played a jig.

Damn Letitia. She had duped them all— Sophia especially. Here she had believed the younger woman when she told— no,
promised
— her that she wouldn't do anything stupid. It had merely been a bid to buy them time to get the license and make their plans.

And Sophia hadn't seen it coming. She should have. Letitia was more like her than Sophia cared to admit. Of all people, she should have recognized the signs. Letitia had taken to keeping to herself more often. She had become guarded and secretive, and she had talked about the situation with far more calm than she usually possessed. Sophia probably would have noticed had she not been so caught up in her own life. Julian claimed more of her thoughts than was healthy.

And now he was gone— running after a sister who didn't want to be caught, trying to keep her a little girl when it was so obvious that Letitia needed to grow up. And she had just let him go.

Perhaps Lady Wickford was right. Perhaps she set the standard for herself low as well, so it wouldn't be a surprise when those whom she expected to love her turned their backs in aversion. Had she always done this? She couldn't remember.

Well, it was time it stopped.

"I am going after him," she announced, daring either man to try to stop her. "If Julian thinks he can just avoid me by running away again he is sorely mistaken. He cannot just turn his back and forget about me. I am his wife, and I will dog him until the day he dies if I have to."

Point made, she fell silent. Both men stared at her as though they believed her to be completely out of her wits, but Sophia didn't care. She was in charge. Julian might be her husband, and by law her master, but this marriage was half hers, and she would be damned if she'd let it go just because his pride had been hurt.

At least, she hoped it was just his pride that had been hurt, because Sophia knew what it was like to have one's heart broken and she didn't like the idea of having done that to Julian. Never mind that he had been the one to do it to her. The whole point of her epiphany was to ensure that their past didn't repeat itself, which it was very much in danger of doing if she allowed Julian to walk away.

"There is something you should see before you go chasing after him," Gabriel informed her, the shock gone from his expression. Brave remained silent as Gabriel strode across the room to the bookcase. He pulled a key out from underneath a book and used it to open a drawer in Julian's desk.

"He keeps all his poems in here," Gabriel explained, rifling through papers in the drawer. "The ones he's working on, at any rate. Ah. Here, read this one."

He had given the papers the briefest of readings. Sophia wasn't certain how he had determined that
this
poem was better for her to read than any others, and she wasn't certain she wanted to look at one of Julian's unfinished works. He really wouldn't appreciate it.

She took the parchment and lowered her gaze to it. What she saw made her chest tight with emotion and her eyes fill with tears.

For Sophia
, it read. Even if it hadn't stated so bluntly that it was for her, she would have known after a verse or two, when she read that line about the garden of Eden that Julian often quoted to her. Sophia was almost ashamed to read it. It was so personal, like peering into Julian's heart.

But what she saw made her so happy she could just burst. He loved her. He had said it and this poem was proof of it. That wasn't something lost over one little lie. Was it? Not if she could help it.

"All right." Sniffling, she wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. "Which one of you is going to take me to Yorkshire?"

Brave and Gabriel exchanged glances and something seemed to pass between them even though all Sophia saw was Brave's nod.

Gabriel met her gaze, determination and resignation in his pale eyes.

"I'll take you."

T
here was something oddly poetic about chasing Letitia to Heatherington. The irony was not lost on Julian as he tore across the countryside on the back of yet another horse. Miranda had made a horrible mistake at Heatherington. He would not allow Letitia to make one as well.

He had spent the entire day and the better part of the blessedly moonlit night on the road, pushing each mount he rode to its limit before stopping for a fresh one. Other than that, he stopped only when nature made it necessary for him to do so.

The sun had risen a few hours ago and the coolness of the morning was slowly giving in to its heat. Thank God the weather had remained fine for his journey. Rain would have slowed him down to the point of futility. He wasn't far from Heatherington now.

He had no idea of knowing how many hours Letitia and Wesley had on him, and they had almost a full day of travel before that. They might very well be at Heatherington already, depending on how fast their carriage made the journey.

What if he was wrong? What if Yorkshire wasn't their destination? What if they actually were bound for Gretna? This foray into Yorkshire might very well cost him any chance of stopping their marriage.

Would that truly be all that
un
pleasant? He couldn't believe he even entertained the thought. Certainly Letitia would be married to a man who at this time was beneath her and could not afford to keep her, but she would have her dowry, and Julian wouldn't let her starve. It might do his sister good to not get everything she wanted as soon as she asked.

And if Letitia
was
indeed married, he could just turn around and go back to London— back to Sophia.

The memory of the look on her face when he left her remained with him all the way from London. He shouldn't have left her, not with things between them as they were. Chasing after Letitia was only part of it. The real reason he left was because he was a coward. He was terrified her declaration of love had been another lie.

And he couldn't face her, because that same part of him that wanted to believe she loved him didn't feel worthy of her love— not after all the blunders he had made where she was involved. She was wrong when she accused him of not trusting her. He had— or at least he had wanted to— but the truth of her betrayal had cut him deeply. What else was he to think but that she had been out for revenge? It was what he would have done.

He couldn't think of this now. It was too painful, and he had more pressing matters demanding his attention.

Was there anything more pressing than saving his marriage? Why couldn't he just leave Letitia to the mess she had made? He knew the answer to that as surely as he knew his own face.

He could not bear to lose Letitia, and that was exactly what it felt like. He was losing the only family he had left.

Gabriel had told him he had Sophia, but it wasn't the same. Letitia was all he had left of his parents, of Miranda. She was a living, breathing memory of happy times, of love and warmth and security. Letitia had depended on him for more than a decade. He had been everything for her. He had a responsibility to her to protect her.

Who would look at him like he could move the sun and the moon if she was gone? Who would make him feel as though he could do anything with their blind faith? There would be an empty place in his life without her— a place he didn't know how to fill. For years he had worried about his sisters, and then just Letitia by herself. Her life became the focus of his. He didn't know how to let go of that.

For years he had thought he wanted control of his own life. As a youth he had rebelled against those who tried to tell him what to do. He had turned his back on Sophia because of it. And now, faced with the possibility of having the responsibility of only his own life, Julian felt as though his world was falling apart.

He didn't like change. Change for him usually meant loss. He had lost his parents and Miranda to death. He had lost Gabe and Brave to their new lives, and now he was losing Letitia.

But he had gained Sophia. He only hoped he hadn't lost her in the interim.

His mount carried him swiftly over a hill. The sun struck him, brilliant and blinding and square in the face.

And there, set in that low, fertile lap of nature, surrounded by lush, green foliage, was Heatherington Park.

An Elizabethan mansion with gothic influences, the house was something right out of Mrs. Radcliffe's novels. Perhaps that was why Miranda chose to end her life there. Her death had ruined the house for Julian. He had spent much of his youth there with his family and Gabe and Brave. It had been a happy place. Now it seemed just a sad, old house. A sad, old house that he still paid to staff and care for.

Mrs. Berry, the housekeeper, confirmed his suspicion that this was Letitia's destination.

"Lord Wolfram!" she cried as he crossed the threshold into the foyer. "We weren't expecting
you
!"

There wasn't much of a staff at Heatherington, just Mrs. Berry and a few others— enough to care for the house and what few rooms were in use. It seemed foolish to have a full staff in a house he rarely used.

He smiled warmly at the plump older woman. "I hope my arrival is not a disappointment, Mrs. Berry."

She took his coat and gloves, clucking her tongue at his teasing. "Of course not, my lord. It is just that in her note, Lady Letitia did not mention that you would be joining her."

Julian kept his tone casual. "It is a surprise. Is my sister here?"

Mrs. Berry folded his coat over one short arm and smiled up at him. She had to lean her head all the way back to do so. She only stood as high as his chest.

"Not yet, but we expect them by luncheon. Would you care for breakfast, my lord?"

As if on cue, Julian's stomach growled an affirmative. He hadn't eaten a decent meal since breakfast the day before.

The housekeeper chuckled. "I will take that as a yes! You go on in to the dining room, my lord. I'll have some of that awful coffee for you in a wee minute."

Smiling despite himself, Julian did as she instructed. How could he have forgotten how dear Mrs. Berry was? He remembered her fussing over him and the girls, sneaking them tarts and other treats whenever Renfrew, the butler, wasn't around.

Old Renfrew was dead now. The house hadn't had a butler in years. There hadn't been a need with it being closed up as it was. Mrs. Berry was perfectly capable of running things as they were.

Julian walked through the marbled hall, past the staircase that was as wide as two men placed end to end, down the corridor to the dining room. Everything was exactly as it had always been. The furniture gleamed, the house was bright with light and the air smelled sweetly of beeswax and the outdoors. Mrs. Berry had cleaned and aired the house for Letitia and Wesley, just as she aired and cleaned it whenever she knew Julian was coming.

How difficult was it for the servants to live there? Every day seeing the pond where Miranda had drowned herself, every day caring for a house the family had, for all intents and purposes, forgotten?

The long mahogany table glowed in the morning light as Julian entered the dining room. He sat down at the head of it and waited, his gaze drifting around the room to the paintings that lined the walls. There was one of a foxhunt on the wall directly across from him that made him smile. His mother hated that painting, but his father had loved it, and so he hung it where it would be at her back so she wouldn't have to look at it, but he could.

There had been a lot of laughter in this house. There were a lot of tears of well.

Mrs. Berry brought his coffee— an entire pot of it— a little while later, and shortly after that she brought him breakfast as well. There was a small plate piled high with freshly baked bread slathered with butter, a pot of strawberry jam, and a large plate positively heaped with eggs, sausage, ham and kippers.

And of course he ate it all, even though he swore he wouldn't be able to. He left the dining room and went to the blue drawing room. He sat on a blue high-backed chair, his feet propped on the windowsill, and watched the lane that led from the road to the house for his sister.

The carriage arrived about two hours later. Julian was waiting in the hall when Letitia and Marcus Wesley came flouncing through the door, laughing as though they hadn't a care in the world.

"Good morning," he said.

Letitia screeched and dropped her reticule. It landed on the marble tiles with a loud
clank
. She must have had a lot of coin in it. Julian couldn't help but wonder where she got it.