Bought: The Penniless Lady (15 page)

Artemis heaved a rueful sigh. “No indeed. Lee
has
been a comfort to me, though, and a great diversion. I cannot imagine how I would have borne the loss of my brother and sister without him.”

She longed for Hadrian to know that kind of consolation. “Even with him, there was still a void. I wanted so desperately to fill it, I was not very particular about what I used—anger, bitterness, blame. Those made bad patching materials.”

“At least they last.”

If anyone could understand about the emptiness of loss, it was Hadrian. His mother’s death must have gouged a deep hole in his heart. Before it had begun to heal, the sudden violent loss of his father and brothers must have blasted a bottomless crater.

“But at what cost?” asked Artemis. “They are so…corrosive. They eat away at the edges of the hole, making it bigger and bigger until it becomes impossible to fill. I believe reaching out to others provides a better remedy. After my mother died, Papa relied on me for so many things. It helped, somehow, being needed. After he died, Leander and Daphne needed me. Now Lee does.”

“All very commendable. But it can be a dangerous business, using other people to fill the void. What happens when you lose
them?
”

A shiver ran through Artemis at the thought of losing Lee. What would she do? To whom would she turn in the forlorn hope of filling that emptiness?

She could think of only one person. “Surely there will always be someone who needs our help, if we are willing to look. But there are other things that can fill the void. Lasting things that heal rather than harm.”

“And what might those be?” Hadrian sounded doubtful.

“You should know.” Artemis drank in a deep breath of night air fragrant with the wholesome sweetness of clover. “It was thinking of you that brought them to my mind. Hard work, for one. A worthwhile cause. Fond memories.”

“You may be right. Those first two served me well for many years. Perhaps if they had not been tainted with resentment and guilt, they might have done a better job.”

They fell silent again. Not the tense, expectant silence that had once bristled between them, but a tranquil hush in which they could ponder their thoughts.

“I have tried your way of filling the void,” said Hadrian at last. “Almost ten years ago. Her name was Margaret. Her father worked for the East India Company. I was
young enough that the memories of what happened to my family had begun to fade. I’d gone into business and was making a success of it. So I thought, why not get married, have a family of my own, continue the Northmore line in case anything…ever happened…to Julian.”

His words knocked the air out of Artemis. She remembered him calling Margaret’s name on their wedding night when she was in his arms.

“What happened to your wife?” she whispered.

Hadrian stared up at the pale, melancholy face of the moon. “One of those infernal fevers that are the scourge of tropical countries. They come on without any warning and before you know it—” he snapped his fingers “—the person you love is gone. A young life snuffed out like a candle.”

Artemis wanted to tell him how sorry she was to hear of yet another tragic loss he had suffered. But her lips refused to form the words. Could that be for the heartless, shameful reason that she was
not
entirely sorry Hadrian had been free to wed her?

He gave no sign of noticing her lapse, but continued to recount his litany of heartbreak. “The baby caught it first. The doctor told us nothing could be done. He said we should let the
ayah
tend Elizabeth so we wouldn’t catch the fever. Margaret refused to heed his advice, said she could not bear to have her child die in any arms but hers.”

Suddenly Hadrian’s first wife was no longer a threatening shadow from his past, but a real woman with whom Artemis could not help but sympathize. The summer moon became a soft, silver blur as tears filled her eyes. “I do not blame her. I would feel the same about Lee.”

So her husband had been a father once, however briefly. He knew how it felt to place his heart and his hopes in a pair of tiny hands…then stand by helpless while a fever consumed them. She could not blame him for being reluctant to risk what little of himself he had left. Not even for the sake of her adored nephew.

As for anything she might have been foolish enough to hope for herself…

“Tell me about Margaret.” Artemis could not coax her voice above a whisper. “What was she like?”

Hadrian heaved a slow sigh. “Many of the things you told me about your sister, I could say of Margaret. She had high spirits, a strong will and a good heart. I cannot fault Julian for being smitten by a woman like that. We Northmore men must fancy the same kind.”

Artemis swallowed a pathetic whimper that rose in her throat. Why should it matter if Hadrian’s heart belonged to his late wife—a woman as different from her as her sister had been?

It
should
not matter at all. But it did—far too much.

Margaret. Elizabeth.

He had finally spoken their names aloud for the first time in far too many years. For Hadrian, those names were like enchanted keys, unlocking long-imprisoned memories of his young wife and daughter. With them came echoes of the profound sorrow and bitter regret their loss had caused him. But there was a strange sense of relief, too, an elusive whisper of peace.

“So you see how it is, then?” He slanted a glance at Artemis, all silvery-white in the moonlight, her arms
clasped around her knees. “Caring for someone…loving them…doesn’t mean giving them everything they long for. Sometimes you have to do what you know in your heart is best for them.”

“I do see how it is,” she answered in a voice like the sigh of a midnight breeze.

“Then I reckon we ought to get back in.” Slowly he rose to his feet and offered her his hand. “We’ve been out here long enough.”

Without another word, Artemis let him help her up. Quietly they entered the house and crept through the darkened entrance hall, up the staircase and down the west gallery. Would he dream of Margaret and Elizabeth tonight? Hadrian wondered. Would he relive those anguished days in Madras? Or would his slumbering mind reach back to happier times, savoring their hopeful joy, until he woke to the crippling realization that they were gone?

When he and Artemis reached the door to her bedchamber, he asked, “Can I come in? I know I’ve no right to ask, but…”

“It is not a question of having the right,” she replied in a weary-sounding whisper. “But I do not think it is a good idea under the circumstances. Do you?”

“I don’t want to bed you.” He could not deny it was a tempting diversion, but Artemis deserved so much more than that. “I just want to be close to you. This is the first time I’ve spoken about Margaret and Elizabeth in years and I don’t want to be alone with my memories.”

She exhaled a soft sigh. “I’m not sure you know what you’re asking.”

“Forgive me.” He backed away. “I am being selfish. You
need your rest. It’s just that you are the only one I’ve ever been able to tell—first about the Fellbank Explosion and now about this. After all you have been through in your own life, I believe you understand better than anyone else can. Good night, Artemis.”

He turned to go.

“Hadrian?” she called softly after him. “Are you saying you need me?”

It was an unsettling admission, but how could he deny it? “I am.”

Her door swung open. “Come in, then.”

How had an acquaintance that had begun with so much mutual hostility blossomed into this? Hadrian did not even try to puzzle out the mystery as he followed her inside. Instead he cherished a sense of gratitude for all the gifts Artemis had brought into his life.

At the same time, she made him achingly aware of his emptiness and tempted him to risk filling it with the very things he had sworn to avoid.

H
adrian needed her, but not in the way she wished he might. Their talk about his wife and daughter had helped her understand where she and Lee stood with him.

Artemis mulled over that thought as she sat hemming a nightshirt for Lee, who staggered around his nursery making noises that occasionally sounded like words.

Hadrian did care about them, in his way. But his heart belonged to the family he had lost. They were his true family. The high-spirited, golden angel he had wed for love, and the precious little daughter their love had begot. Not the illegitimate offspring of a brother he could barely remember and a remote stranger whom circumstances had forced him to wed. It was a tribute to his generous nature that they had managed to form a makeshift bond—one based on necessity and physical attraction and their common history of bereavement.

That was as much as he could give. Though she wanted more for Lee, Artemis was enough of a realist to accept what she could get for herself and be content with it. A few
months of half marriage to a man like Hadrian Northmore would be better than a conventional union of many years with any other man.

The nursery door opened then and Hadrian strode in, looking so cheerful and handsome, he lit up something inside of her. “Hi-ho, my lovely lady and my fine young master! Why are you shut up inside on such a splendid summer day?”

“We were planning to take a walk down to the beck as soon as I finish my sewing.” Artemis greeted him with a fond smile, determined not to spoil the time they had by pushing for more. “What are you doing home? I thought you had a meeting today.”

The moment Hadrian entered the room Lee toddled toward him with his arms raised. “Papapa up-up!”

As Artemis looked on in amazement, Hadrian picked up their nephew and swung him high in the air. “Not very eloquent, but you get your point across, lad! I’m not your papa, but I will admit ‘Uncle Hadrian’ is a mouthful at your age.”

He turned toward Artemis. “My meeting will keep for another day. There’s somewhere I’ve a fancy to show the pair of you, if you’d care for an outing.”

If they’d care? For weeks she’d been pressing him to spend more time with Lee to no avail. Now, just when she’d resigned herself that it would never happen, here he was.

Artemis was not about to refuse a gift, simply because it was unexpected. “I’m sure Lee will be delighted to go anywhere with you. But I thought…that is…you said…”

Hadrian gave a rueful nod. “I know what I said. You said a few things, too. They made a good deal of sense, once I
took the time to think them over. I reckon I do owe this wee lad more than what my fortune can buy him. He may not remember, but you will be able to tell him when I’m gone.”

When he was gone.
That thought made her throat tighten. This unexpected outing did not signify any change in Hadrian’s plans. But it was more than she’d dared to hope for half an hour ago.

“Let’s be off, then.” Hadrian headed for the door, bouncing Lee in his arms. “The gig should be harnessed by the time we get down to the stable yard and Mrs. Matlock had Cook pack us a lunch.”

A short while later, they drove past St. Oswin’s. Lee perched on his aunt’s knee, taking in everything around him.

“What sort of place are you taking us to?” asked Artemis.

His childhood home, perhaps—the farm his father had lost, forcing the family to find work at Fellbank? Surely Hadrian would not be in such high spirits if they were going there.

“It’s a place you’ll appreciate with your love of history,” was Hadrian’s cryptic reply. “I want you to bring Lee back here again, when he’s old enough to understand.”

“Ee! Ee!” cried the child, clapping his hands.

“That’s right, you wee monkey.” Hadrian ruffled his hair. “I want your auntie to bring you here when you’re about eight. That’s the age I was when my pa first brought me. What I saw that day sparked my fancy and stayed with me the rest of my life.”

He glanced up at Artemis. “I want you to take him to
Fellbank, too, when he’s older. I’ll leave it to you to decide when he’s ready.”

His gray gaze fairly glowed with trust.

A few moments later, he steered the gig onto a narrow path that wound around the base of a hill overlooking the church. After driving a little farther, he stopped and climbed out. He held his arms open to take Lee. “We shall have to walk the rest of the way. It’s not far. If you can carry the basket of food, I’ll tote this young fellow.”

Lee was only too happy to go to his uncle, who swung him onto his shoulders and set off up the hill. Following with their lunch and the picnic rug, Artemis basked in the warm caress of the summer sun and the cooling rustle of the breeze. Only when she reached the flattened summit of the hill and glimpsed the tumbled, overgrown outline of ancient stonewalls did she realize where Hadrian had brought them.

“This must have been a Roman fort.” Setting down their picnic gear, she stared around in wonder.

“That’s right.” Hadrian’s voice rang with pride, as if he had built the place with his own hands. “Vindicara they called it. I named my company after this place.”

“I wondered how you’d come by that name.” Artemis pictured the fort as it might have looked many centuries ago, with Roman soldiers standing guard, practicing with their weapons, marching in drills. “It means ‘to avenge,’ doesn’t it?”

“That is one meaning,” said Hadrian. “Another is ‘lay claim to.’ I believe that’s how this fort got its name.”

“Does it have anything to do with how you and your brothers came by
your
names?” Artemis asked. “It is not every day one meets a man called Hadrian.”

The name had associations of strength and authority that suited him, though.

He nodded. “As a lad, I got a good many bruises sticking up for my name when my friends made fun of it.”

“And
gave
a few as well, I imagine.”

“So I did,” he admitted. “Pa said it was a name to be proud of, a name to live up to.”

“He was right,” said Artemis. “And you have.”

Hadrian looked torn between pride and embarrassment.

“See there, Lee?” He pointed to a large, squared-off stone in what was left of the eastern wall. “The inscription has worn away more in the past thirty years, but I can still make it out.”

Lee was too young to understand. Yet the intensity of his uncle’s tone seemed to engage his attention. “
LEG VI
—that means the Sixth Legion. Some of them likely built this place sixteen hundred years ago. That’s even older than me.”

Lee chortled, as if he understood his uncle’s wry quip.

Hadrian turned his attention back to Artemis. “St. Oswin’s was built out of stones taken from here. Some of them have words carved on them, too. Remind me next Sunday and I’ll show you.”

He swung Lee off his shoulders and eased the child to the ground, keeping hold of one small hand. Lee wasted no time toddling toward a slender block of carved stone set out from the fallen wall.

“This is some kind of altar,” said Hadrian. “The inscription is to the god Vitirius, by a tribune called Titus.”

They spent a delightful afternoon exploring the ruins. Lee roamed about to his heart’s content, happy to be out
of doors in the company of his aunt and uncle. As Hadrian had predicted, Artemis appreciated the vivid history he brought to life for her. But more than that, she savored the indescribable sweetness of being a family—even if it was only a fleeting mirage.

When Lee’s boundless energy began to flag, they settled in the shade of a section of wall and ate a hearty luncheon of cold meat pies, bread and cheese, washed down with cider.

“I have something else to show you.” Hadrian fished in his pocket and pulled out a coin about the size of a sixpence. Balancing it upright between his thumb and forefinger, he held it out for Lee and Artemis to get a good look. “This here is a silver denarius. The Romans used them to pay the soldiers. That man on the front wearing the helmet is Emperor Constantine the Second. Looks a bit like your old uncle, don’t you think?”

Artemis peered closer. “The profile does look rather like you. Did you find that coin here?”

Hadrian shook his head. “My father found it when he was a lad. He thought old Constantine looked like
his
father. It made him wonder if our family might have Roman blood. That inspired him to study Latin and history from the local vicar. The more he learned about the Romans, the more he admired them. It made him resolve to raise our family up.”

“He sounds like a very determined man,” said Artemis. Both Hadrian and Lee had inherited that sometimesexasperating virtue.

Hadrian nodded. “He was all of that. Some of the miners spent more of their pay at the public house than their families could afford. Pa never darkened its door. He
said he had better things to do with his time and brass. The money he might have spent on a pint, he put away for Julian’s schooling. The time he might have idled away there, he spent teaching us to read and write.”

Hadrian flipped the coin into his palm and clenched his fingers over it in a protective fist. “Pa gave this to me on the day he first brought me to Vindicara. I’ve carried it with me ever since to remind me where I come from and what I have to do.”

Another woman might not have understood that urgent sense of duty to secure his family’s legacy. Not only did Artemis understand, she admired it. “I am certain your father would be proud to know how well you’ve fulfilled his dream to make something of your family.”

“I’ve a ways to go yet. But with your help I’m making progress.” Hadrian reached out and dropped the denarius into her palm. “Keep that safe for Lee, will you? Give it to him when you bring him here again and tell him the things I’ve told you.”

“I will.” Artemis nodded toward their nephew, who had drifted off to sleep in his uncle’s arms. “I will also tell him all about this day and what a wonderful time he had with you. Though he may not remember, I’m certain that somewhere inside he will carry a special sense of you.”

Hadrian glanced down at the child, then raised his eyes to her. As always, a potent physical awareness stirred between them.

His firm, wide mouth arched in a devilish grin. “What would you say to coming here late some warm night and performing the sacred rites of Aphrodite?”

“I should be scandalized, of course!” Artemis tried to
look as shocked as she once would have at such a suggestion from him. Unable to support the pretense, she sputtered with wanton laughter. “Deliciously scandalized. Name the night and I shall be yours!”

More and more, she yearned to be his—fully and forever. But since Hadrian’s tragic past had made that impossible, she must try to be content with as many days like this one as he could give her.

When he heard the first of their guests had arrived, Hadrian sent Mrs. Matlock to fetch Artemis, while he took up his place on the steps of the front portico. He preferred that this first meeting with his estranged partner take place amid the bustle of their arrival. Hopefully it would ease any awkwardness between them.

The first one to alight from the carriages was Susannah Penrose, holding a small boy by the hand. “Thank you for inviting us, Mr. Northmore. It is a pleasure to see you again. This is my nephew, Master Phillip Crawford. Phip, make a nice bow to our host, like I taught you.”

The child abruptly doubled over at the waist, then straightened up and retreated behind his aunt’s skirts.

Hadrian dropped to his haunches. “A pleasure to meet you, Master Phillip. My nephew Lee is near your age. He’ll be keen to play with you.”

Lady Kingsfold appeared next, carrying her young daughter. “This has been a great adventure for Phillip and Eleanor—their first journey from home. Mr. Northmore, may I present my sister Belinda and her husband, Sidney Crawford?”

“Welcome to Edenhall, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford. Thank you for accepting our invitation.”

“Our pleasure.” Sidney Crawford returned Hadrian’s bow. “A fine-looking place you have here. Is the fishing good?”

Hadrian nodded. “I am told the trout are running very well down in the beck.”

Ford stepped past Mr. Crawford to offer Hadrian his hand. “My brother-in-law is a keen angler. The skill of your cook and the quality of your wine cellar matter far less to him than a plentiful supply of fish nearby. I’ll wager his enjoyment of your hospitality is assured.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Hadrian gave his partner’s hand a hearty shake. “Would the two of you care to walk down to the beck? If you’re anything like me, you’ll be anxious to stretch your legs after a long carriage ride.”

Mr. Crawford greeted the suggestion with an eager nod.

“In that case,” said Lady Kingsfold, “my sisters and I will take the children inside and get them settled.”

“My wife is waiting to welcome you.” Hadrian gestured toward the large front door. “She will be pleased to see familiar faces from Sussex.”

As the women and children headed inside, Sidney Crawford strode toward the beck, leaving Hadrian and Ford to follow at a more leisurely pace.

For a few moments they walked side by side without speaking. Then Ford broke the silence. “I must say,
this
is not where I pictured you’d be after you stormed out of Hawkesbourne.”

“Where did you picture me, then?”

“The truth?” Ford gave a hoarse chuckle. “Swinging from a gallows for murdering Lady Artemis Dearing.”

There was a time Ford’s prediction might not have sounded so far-fetched. Now the thought of harming one hair on her head made Hadrian’s blood run cold.

“She was not to blame for what happened to my brother.” Hadrian glanced toward his partner. “Neither were you. I was a blinkered fool to say otherwise. I know you are not a man to easily pardon such a grave insult, but I regret what I said to you that day. Whether or not you are willing to accept my apology, I’m offering it.”

Ford halted abruptly and turned to fix him with an incredulous look. “Who the hell are you? And what have you done with the
real
Hadrian Northmore?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“So you have.” Ford broke into a bewildered grin. “And I cannot believe my ears. Laura insisted you must have invited us here to make amends, but I had my doubts. I should know by now that she is usually right. Tell me, what made you willing to apologize? During three years in India and two in Singapore I never once heard you beg anybody’s pardon for anything. The most you ever did was dispatch Simon or me to smooth things over.”