Belmary House Book One (10 page)

“Please do tell,” he said, cringing inwardly at the indifference in his voice.

She blinked, and with a long breath said, “It’s that you treated me like a puppet. Maybe if you’d let me in on your little plan, I might have gone along with it. I would have been prepared to get all those nasty looks. I actually thought the dress was pretty, and now I just feel stupid for liking it, when everyone was mocking me behind my back. It would have been bearable if I was a part of it. Why didn’t you just treat me like a person and ask for my help? Didn’t I offer to help? Do you not see women as people in this time?”

Stunned at her words, he opened his mouth. Nothing came out but a stuttering sound. He tried again, wishing he could find the words to tell her how truly sorry he was, now that she’d explained her feelings. He hadn’t felt so ashamed in a long while, maybe never. He’d been selfish, obnoxious, only thinking to rid himself of the annoying Miss Havershim’s unwanted attention.

He’d treated Miss Jacobs like a convenient tool he had lying around, a puppet, just like she’d accused. He’d done nothing but victimise her and use her since he shoved her through the portal. Was that just earlier that day? God, he was exhausted.

He rubbed his face, then looked her straight in the eyes. She had the loveliest greenish brown eyes, and he wanted to erase the sadness he’d put there. Anger flared up at her for causing all this turmoil, then guilt for blaming her.

“If you had done what I told you and stayed put, none of that nonsense with Nick would have happened.” The thought that things might have gone a different way was unbearable and he clenched his fists. “If it hadn’t been for your impressive strength and fighting skills, I truly wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

She snorted. “Heaven forbid. And don’t try to butter me up. I’ll use those skills on you if you ever treat me that way again.”

The relief he felt at her bantering tone was short lived, and quickly made him feel worse than ever. He didn’t deserve her easy forgiveness.

“You would be right to do so,” he assured her. “In fact, I think you still must since I’ve gravely offended your honor. Take your best shot.” He thrust out his jaw and closed his eyes. “It’s what I would do if you were a man.”

He heard a huff of disbelief and clenched his teeth, waiting for the blow, and hoping she wouldn’t leave a bruise. He hated to admit he was a tad vain about his face. But if it took a smack to get back in her good graces, he would gladly take one. More if necessary. After a moment, he opened his eyes, about to tell her to get on with it or he’d withdraw his generous offer. She stood before him, brows angrily furrowed, her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest.

“Ugh, you have a lot to learn if you think treating me like a man is the way to go about things. As good looking as you are and with all your money… I thought the time travel nonsense was the reason you’re still single, but now I know it’s your personality. You should be grateful girls like Miss Havershim even give you a second glance.” She rubbed her knuckles as if she regretted not taking her chance at hitting him and turned to leave.

“You’re quite right of course,” he said, her words hitting harder than he wanted to admit. He couldn’t let this girl get under his skin. He needed his wits about him to find Camilla. “I assume you heard we must leave for Scotland on the morrow? If you don’t want to go, I’ll understand. I’ll leave Duncan behind, and if you stay put, he’ll be able to ensure your safety.”

She turned back, planting her hands on her hips. “If you even think about leaving without me, you’re dead.”

The hurt and sadness was still written all over her face, even as she struggled to cover her feelings with a look of murderous rage. He didn’t know what to do, and opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was too tired, still too scattered from the near disastrous portal mishaps.

He’d barely got to the teacher in time to get him home and the poor man was so affected, Ashford feared he wouldn’t be able to continue on with his normal life. So many lives ruined, all thanks to his cursed house. It weighed on him, but none so much as Miss Jacobs. She hadn’t stumbled clumsily through after going somewhere she wasn’t supposed to. He’d dragged her here.

“We leave at first light,” he said, looking up, but she’d already left the room, the door still ajar.

He would have felt better if she’d slammed it. Something was definitely wrong with him. He’d never been so disappointed to not get hit. Even as exhausted as he was, with the way he felt, he knew sleep would elude him. Pouring himself another drink, he sat behind the desk and stared at the slightly open door, forcing himself to be still and not go after her.

Kostya Povest sat on the hillside, shaded somewhat by the large alder that rustled in the breeze. Every now and then the air in Albus, Scotland felt like home to him. It wasn’t that he missed his home, not in the least, and he was grateful every day to be away from his family there, but he’d still get a wash of nostalgia, remembering running along the river bank or hiding from his cousins in the woods. Back when he was young enough to be blissfully unaware.

He shook it off, as there was no use for it, and placed the small ribbon wrapped bouquet of daisies and thistle at the base of his Lucy’s tombstone. She’d loved the thorny weed, calling it the monster of the flowers. But she’d said it was a benevolent monster, who guarded the more delicate flowers that grew in the vast fields of her uncle’s land.

He looked at the grassy space next to Lucy’s grave. “Is mummy with you now?” he asked, pushing down the old anger he felt toward his wife. It was quickly replaced with the nagging guilt that he was far more familiar with.

 He really should work up the courage to order a gravestone for Camilla, but knew he wouldn’t until Ashford stopped clinging to his mad beliefs. He couldn’t blame Ashford. Perhaps he would be as tenacious if he had a twin sister he loved, and even the smallest ember of a hope remained. But Kostya’s hope had been doused long ago.

When Camilla was alive, this estate Kostya loved so much had been her childhood home. He had been happy to be anywhere but his own childhood home, and the first time he saw the sprawling green hills and caught whiff of the occasional sea breezes that made it to them, he knew he never wanted to leave it.

After they married, they didn’t think Ashford would ever return for good, and he was happy enough to leave the estate in their care. Now that Camilla was gone as well, did he really have any right to continue staying here? Anyone would think that he’d want to leave after all he’d been through, losing Lucy, losing his wife. Surely he’d want to run from the memories. Run from this place. But he liked it here, far from his family and their curses. He’d stay here as long as he could.

Kostya stood up and set about needlessly tidying the gravesite. He hadn’t been up in a fortnight, but the groundskeepers kept the small family cemetery in pristine condition. Still, he wanted to do something fatherly for her birthday.

Nine years old. He would have given anything to see how she might have changed in the last year. Would her dark curls be just as unruly, would she have grown as fast as her beloved wildflowers? How many books would she have devoured in the last year? He could never keep up with her love of reading. He didn’t think there were enough books in print to satisfy her.

The pain was so severe he had to sit back down, and leaned against the smooth back of the stone. He didn’t like to see her name carved showily into the front, the small, sad range of dates, the ‘beloved daughter’.

He didn’t know which was worse, the denial he still felt, or the despair. Sometimes he’d think so hard about the events leading up to her accident, thinking how things might have gone differently, he’d find he was holding his breath, and become quite dizzy. Then he’d realize his turbulent thoughts were all for nought. There was no changing anything. Lucy was gone.

He heard footsteps coming up the hill and wiping his face, poked his head over the top of the stone, startling his neighbor, who had a far nicer posy in her hands.

“Serena,” he said, jumping up and bowing. “I’m terribly sorry to have frightened you.”

She smiled and dipped her head, making her loose blonde locks tumble across her cheeks, which were pink with the exertion of the walk. Holding out her flowers, she looked chagrined.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I can leave this and go.” She ducked down and put the bouquet next to his, and he saw her run her fingers over Lucy’s name and heard her whisper happy birthday.

“Nonsense. You stay, I’ve been here for hours now.” He waved his hand at the surroundings. “I wanted to do something, but there was nothing to do.” He came around the stone and began to walk down the hill, but she grabbed his wrist as he passed.

“Please stay,” she said, awkwardly wrinkling her pretty, pert nose. “Would you like to speak of her for a bit?” Her voice cracked and he turned to stand beside her. “I miss her laughter, and her running feet.”

“Did she ever walk?” Kostya asked with a rueful laugh. “You come up here often, don’t you?” he asked.

She looked embarrassed and shrugged. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I feel— it was me who encouraged her to make the jump,” she said. “Perhaps she wasn’t ready, but I told her to be brave. I can’t—”

He took a deep breath and interrupted her anguished outpouring. “And it was I who told her she could ride so early that day. It was Ashford who bought her the pony. It was the gardener who hadn’t yet cleared the path, or even the storm the night before for knocking down the branch. It was just bad luck and cruel fate, Serena. We all of us must stop.”

“She wouldn’t like it, would she?”

“No, she wouldn’t, so let’s just stop.”

He patted her shoulder and they were silent for a few moments. He closed his eyes and let the northern breeze that made him feel like he was home drift over him.

“When I passed through the house, everyone was all aflutter at the news,” she said, glancing over at him.

“News?” He hadn’t heard any fluttering when he set out earlier. A messenger must have arrived after he left.

“Julian’s coming back. Lord Ashford shall be gracing us with his presence in a few short days. The servants are to prepare the finest guest room as well, but not a line about who might be coming with him.”

He smiled fondly at her forced casual tone. He knew Serena McPherson had been in love with Ashford since they were children, growing up together as neighbors. She’d never gone to London for a season, and only once went to Edinburgh. He never understood why, as she was beautiful and wealthy, so could have had her pick of husbands once upon a time. Perhaps even now. He supposed she just truly loved country life, perhaps holding out hope that Ashford would return.

Camilla had never loved Serena, finding any opportunity to tease her behind her back, and was cool to her face, but Kostya saw how much she’d truly cared for Lucy, how kind she’d always been to her. He would always like her for that.

“Shall we prepare something for his arrival?” he asked indulgently.

She turned to him, a smile on her tear stained face. He wanted to wipe them away for her, but kept his hands at his sides.

“We should, shouldn’t we?” She took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her face. “Some of the ladies in the village have been wanting to have a dance, and Julian did promise to host one the last time he was here. As soon as I know how long that wretched man is staying this time, I can begin planning.”

He offered his arm and he watched her take one last look at Lucy’s grave, running her hand over the arched stone before he led her down the hillside.

“You must come for supper when he arrives,” he said, glancing sideways to catch her worried look. She was never certain Ashford would welcome her, even though they’d been friends since birth. “It won’t be a homecoming without you.”

“I’m eaten up with curiosity about the mystery guest,” she admitted.

“It’s probably just Jeremy or Nicholas hitching a ride,” he said, but curious himself.

If it was one of those old friends of Ashford’s, no special fanfare would be made of their arrival. They’d stayed at the estate countless times, Jeremy having land of his own only a couple days ride away. Kostya suspected the guest was a lady, but would never say so, and risk wiping the smile off Serena’s face. He wanted his daughter’s birthday to be a good day for them.

“Do stay for supper this evening,” he said, surprising himself, but not wanting her to go.

She’d ridden out to pay her respects, and besides that, he wanted company. He watched her surreptitiously as she struggled to keep her hair under her bonnet as the wind picked up. She bit her lower lip and studied the sky with concern in her bright blue eyes.

“If the weather turns, you know you always have a room here,” he cajoled.

She blushed and turned away, and he wondered if he’d gone too far. It was hard for him to accept that so many things had changed in such a short amount of time, and that Serena’s spending the night at the house might be improper now. He shook his head and silently berated himself.

What he never should have believed was that he could have been allowed to be happy in the first place. The life he thought he could live here on the estate had turned out to be a cruel intermission in the sick play of his existence. He knew it was time to leave, but he didn’t want to. Not yet.