Lords of Retribution (Lords of Avalon series) (18 page)

“I held
Tristan in my arms when he was two days old and I raised him as my own. I have always felt he was my son.”

Morva looked
to Wenna. “If you were to ask my advice, I would tell you that if you love Trevan, and I think that you do, that you should try to work things out even though it seems a difficult task.”

“Oh, Aunt Morva!” Wenna hugged her
. “I fear I have ruined everything with Trevan, he was so angry.”

“When he returns, Wenna, talk to him
. I know you love him and I am certain he loves you. I think you two can work it out if you both agree to forget the past and just move forward.”

“Do you really think so?” Wenna asked with a
wistful smile.

“I do.” Morva took Wenna’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze
.

Wenna nodded as she dried her tears
. “I will speak to him when he returns.” She asked, “Aunt Morva, you truly get to the point where you can forget he was with another woman?”

“The pain lessens
with the passing of time, and as long as you do not dwell upon it, it becomes bearable,” Morva answered her honestly.

“I will speak with him when he returns.
” Wenna smiled hopefully.

Swandown Manor,
North Devon, June 1834

They
walked along the path leading from the small churchyard toward Swandown Manor.

Jack watched as the black c
arriage led by six horses wearing black ostrich plume headdresses removed from the lane. None of the Avalon Society members spoke as they made their way along the path. They had come because Charlie was an Avalon Society member, but more importantly, he was a friend to them all.

The day was eerily quiet
and moody with ominous black clouds hanging in the sky. Jack noted there was not even birdsong, only heavy silence. Until the slow knell of the bell from the church tower filled the air.

Charles “
Charlie” Inwood, Lord Silverley, was laid to rest in the churchyard at his home, Swandown Manor. His coffin, covered with black velvet and an intricately engraved, brass breastplate, had been lowered into the grave before the gentlemen departed the Inwood family graveyard. When they were nearly to the Manor, the sound of many shovels scooping earth into the grave began. The Avalon Society members looked to one another as they walked, their expressions somber.

Charlie’s parents,
Lord and Lady Stanbridge, had insisted their party’s ladies accompany them today. The ladies waited inside the Manor with the women of the Inwood household.

Upon
their arrival back at the Manor, the Avalon society Members and their ladies would join the family in the drawing room and stay for a meal before returning to Roseland Abbey, on the Hartland peninsula, to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening. Lord Stanbridge had insisted his son’s fellows and their families remain for the Inwood family’s meal. Jack and his party would leave to make the rest of their journey to Menadue, the Duke of Penrose’s home in Cornwall, early tomorrow morning.

Jack already knew Lady Stanbridge was taking Charlie’s death hard. That much had been evident upon their arrival
at Swandown earlier. Lady Wednesday appeared to be her constant companion, and though teary at times, did not break down as her mama did.

The
ever-beautiful Lady Tuesday Inwood had impressed Jack with her strength and courage. He had witnessed her tearing up once or twice but she never gave in to those tears. She stood with her back ramrod straight, taking care of everything her mother seemed unable to do. It was obvious Tuesday had taken over the running of the household in the time of her mama’s great grief.

It was Lady Tuesday whom his eyes sought the moment he stepped into the large drawing room. Even
dressed entirely in black, in the midst of a somber room draped in black baize, Lady Tuesday stirred his blood. Yes, even in black, she was stunning.

The beautiful
blonde had always had the oddest effect on him. He had noticed it for the first time four years ago at Roseland Abbey. Every time he had seen her since, even if it was for the briefest of moments, his body still reacted to her. It was instant arousal. His mind would become flooded with carnal thoughts of all he wanted to do to her. All the ways he could give her pleasure.

Today was different.
Oh, his body still reacted to her. He still wanted her. Yet, today, Jack found he wanted more. He had the overwhelming urge to gather Tuesday into his arms and hold her tightly against him. He longed to tell her everything would be fine, they would all take care of her and her family. He wished to bring a smile to her face. He kept imagining himself softly kissing her temple then whispering words of comfort into her ear. The need he felt to wrap Tuesday in his arms was simply overwhelming.

Just as had happened in Roseland those four years ago, he couldn’t shake the spell Lady Tuesday had on him
. Oh, he had tried four years ago by taking a delectable Italian mistress while he and his fellows worked in Italy after quitting Roseland Abbey. Though Antonia had sated his lust, he would still lie wide-eyed and awake most nights thinking of Lady Tuesday. Countless times, he recalled those gorgeous, French blue eyes, her hair, her scent,
violets
, and the delicate beauty of her face.
Her body
. Though unseen by him, even her demure gowns could not hide the promise of the charms well hidden.

For four
years, he had sought to ease his desire elsewhere, but images of Lady Tuesday Inwood invaded his thoughts often. She was Charlie’s sister; forbidden fruit as it were. The only way he ever felt he could touch her was if it came with an offer of marriage. The thought of marriage had always been strong enough to keep him from her, until today.

Charlie was gone
now. Apparently, Jack wanted Tuesday badly enough to give up his freedom and offer for her. Today was not the time or the place. Lady Tuesday and her family were in mourning. When the Brown Coat business was finished, he vowed he would return to Swandown and court Lady Tuesday properly. When her mourning period was over, they could marry if she was agreeable to his suit.

When the
Avalon Society members paused to greet the ladies of the family and offer their condolences, Jack managed to grasp Tuesday’s hand. She turned surprised, large French blue eyes upward to meet his gaze. He melted looking into those gorgeous, blue pools. The jolt he felt while he held her hand in his shocked him.

“Lady Tuesday,” he began softly, “I am heavy of heart today
. I wish to offer you my deepest sympathies. If there is ever anything you need from me, you have but to ask,” Jack bowed and brought her gloved hand to his lips ever so briefly. Though slight, the contact was enough to heat his blood. When he straightened and looked upon her, he saw the flush in her cheeks, noted her quick intake of breath. He saw surprise and something else in those incredible eyes.

“Thank you, Lord Elveston
. You are very kind. I appreciate you being here with us today,” Tuesday tried desperately to keep her voice calm and even. It would seem Lord Elveston had the same effect on her as always. Her blood raced, she felt giddy just looking into his handsome face. The tingling from his lips against her gloved hand made her shiver. As always, she wished to reach out and touch the cleft in his chin. She had given up on Lord Elveston long ago. She told herself this was just the remnants of her previous, silly, young woman’s infatuation and nothing more.

Jack leaned closer to her
. He shouldn’t have, for the soft scent of violets teased him far more than he could imagine. He whispered, “I mean it, Lady Tuesday. Charlie is gone, I am here for you.”

Had he just?
Bloody hell,
yes he had! He may as well have gotten on his knees and groveled at her feet. He exhaled. What was this spell, this power, she had over him? He had never been able to name it. He never understood it.

Tuesday cocked her head slightly and looked
up into his amber-colored eyes. She saw sincerity. She choked up. Tears threatened. She was quite moved by his words, this was Lord Elveston, after all. A man whom in the past made certain never to show any emotion toward her because he knew she had a tendre for him all those years ago.

“Thank you, Lord Elveston.” She exhaled
. “I appreciate that, sir.” She realized she was smiling at him. She regained her composure and her serious demeanor.

The corners of Jack’s mouth turne
d up slightly when he witnessed the very moment she realized his words had been genuine. He gave her a nod and moved on to greet her sister, Lady Wednesday.

Fear clutched at her as she studied
Jack from the corner of her eye. He had moved on to greet her sister. Tuesday could not be so foolish again. Lord Elveston would never be interested in marriage, or her, for that matter. According to the gossip in London, she was far from his type, which was rumored to be experienced matrons. She could not allow herself to become infatuated by him another time and have her heart strings tugged so painfully again.

She was being silly
. She was much older and wiser. She would not allow Jack to charm her again. She turned to give the Duke of Penrose her full attention as he approached her. Tuesday vowed to forget about Jack Drayton, the Earl of Elveston.

Catherine Feywood Hewitt, the Marchioness of Burrow, was numb. There was no other word for it. She was an empty shell. She was devastated. She knew not how to move forward from this point.

She stood in the drawing room draped in
mourning black and looked out the window in the direction of the churchyard. She longed to go to the spot. She longed to kneel at the grave of her true love.

In truth, if it were not for the precious gift Charlie had left her with, she guessed she might want to lie on top of his grave and die
there. She wanted to cry. She could not. None would understand
her
grief on this day.

Ruan Menwennick,
Lord Ince, lightly touched her arm and whispered, “Please sit, Lady Burrow. I shall procure some refreshment for you. You look pale.”

She supposed she was pale
. She hadn’t slept in days, perhaps weeks, even a month. When her condition was realized, she let Lord St. Erth know by letter and told Lord Ince in person. Her husband, the Marquess of Burrow, could not find out about her condition.

Her life had turned
into a horror upon marrying Burrow. Four years ago, her beloved Charlie had come to her aid along with his friends, Lord St. Erth, Lord Ince and Lord Roscarrow. The three latter gentlemen were with The Department in London, an elite force of men who worked for the King. Her husband was not only a cruelly sick, sadistic husband, but also a suspected criminal plotting against the Crown, which is why The Department had stepped in to protect her. She’d had to remain at the Marquess’ estate in Bath, but Burrow had not been allowed to come near her since St. Erth took over four years before. Lord St. Erth had provided her a trusted maid and a substantial guard that made certain it was so.

Burrow was reluctantly working with The Department to implicate higher-ranking officials in England and abroad, so that he would go free when the business was finished.

Because she and Charlie had been in love and had been lovers before her father forced her into marriage with the
Marquess, Burrow could know nothing of her renewed relationship with Charlie. It would anger Burrow, and all of the men now involved in her life agreed it could endanger her. Burrow had always hated Charlie. Likewise, Charlie had always disliked him.

Over the last four years, she and Charlie settled for brief encounters here and there
and she had always looked forward to a few smuggled in letters from Charlie when St. Erth or Lord Ince called upon her.

There had been a few times she and Charlie
spent two or more days together. Far and few between, those times were precious to her, even more so today. One of their liaisons had been four months ago. Lord Ince had arranged for Burrow to go to London to complete a task for their case. Lord Roscarrow had taken her to a quaint farmhouse in Wiltshire where she and Charlie had spent four glorious days together. Their meals had been brought to them. They had basked in the euphoria of their love with complete privacy for the four days. It had been the happiest four days of her life. She hadn’t known then it would be the last time she saw Charlie.

Charlie had
happily informed her that the investigation involving Burrow was near an end. St. Erth had given him his promise to whisk her away the very day it ended.

Charlie
said they would marry as soon as could be afterward. They could start their lives anew and spend their remaining years together as each of them had intended to do all those years ago.

Over a month ago, things had changed
. Catherine realized she was with child. She conveyed as much to Marrek Penaluna, Lord St. Erth, in her weekly letter to him in India. Of course, it would take many weeks for him to receive the letter.

Marrek had become her dear
friend over the last four years. It was Marrek whom she spent most of her time with. He visited her almost weekly until he had to leave for India a year ago. They corresponded three times a week before that and once a week after he left for India. His letters were weeks old when she received them, but she cherished them, nonetheless. He was a very dear friend and a confidant to her.

She
let Lord Ince know of her condition immediately. He was in charge of her situation in Bath
until Marrek returned. Since Burrow had lost the privilege to exercise his husbandly rights, and was restricted from coming anywhere near her for the last four years, it was now crucial that Catherine be removed from his house.

Originally, s
he was to be removed from the Marquess’ large estate and placed in a cottage in a small village in North Devon somewhere near Charlie.

Lord Ince had snuck a letter from Charlie to her just
three weeks ago. He had been elated to learn about the coming of their child, and the fact that they could now be together more often, though she would be in hiding.

Their union could not become public until the case was concluded and Burrow learned the only way he could walk free was to sign divorce papers.

Catherine struggled to keep her composure as she remembered the day, less than a week ago when Lord Ince had requested an audience with her. His face had been ashen as he gave her the news.
Charlie was dead
. Gone. Her Charlie, the only man she ever loved. She would never see him again or speak to him. He would never see their child. They would never marry.