Kathryn Smith (36 page)

“Do you still think about her?”

Gabriel’s bitter smile was a dim reflection in the glass. “Every damn day.” He turned to face Brave. “That’s why you have to go after Rachel, my friend. Go get her. Bring her back to Wyck’s End before she disappears on you.”

“Rachel’s not going to disappear.” Brave dismissed the notion with a shake of his head. It was absurd to even think it. Where would she go?

“Does she know how you feel about her?”

His friend’s gaze was so intense Brave had difficulty meeting it. “After the way she walked out of here, I doubt it.”

“So she doesn’t know you love her.”

Brave bowed his head. “I never knew for certain myself until she was gone.” A part of him had felt as though it had left with her. That part was his heart.

“Well Lilith knew I loved her and I knew she loved me and she still left. You don’t think it could happen to you?”

Rachel had said something before she left about being foolish enough to think herself in love with him and she’d left him then. Could she walk away from him completely?

He’d just managed to forgive himself for losing Miranda—a loss that hadn’t been his fault. He’d never forgive himself for losing Rachel.

“You really think I should go after her?”

Gabriel nodded, his expression sober. “If you love her, you should go after her and never let her out of your sight again.”

Brave’s smile was crooked. “Is that what you’d do if you found Lilith again?”

“After all she’s put me through,” Gabe said with a rough laugh, “Lilith’s going to have to find me.”

Brave laughed. “Don’t ever issue a challenge where a woman is concerned, Gabe. You might find yourself being taken up on it.”

Shaking his head, Gabriel turned back to the window. “She’s never coming back, Brave. I know that now, but I would hate to see you end up like me just because you thought you were doing the right thing.”

Something in his words struck at Brave’s heart. For all his bravado and sarcasm, Gabriel was a good man. Brave had never realized in all their years of friendship just how lonely the Earl of Angelwood was.

Brave had had his fill of being lonely.

With a clap on the back, Gabriel steered him in the direction of the door. “I know you’ll do whatever is right for you. Now, come see Julian and me off.”

With his head full of Rachel, Brave had forgotten that his friends were leaving for London that day.

“I’ve seen more of you in the last month and a half than I have in the past year,” Brave joked, as they left the study.

Gabriel grinned, all of his moroseness apparently forgotten. “And if you’re lucky enough to have your lovely wife forgive you, you won’t see my shadow darken your door for quite some time. The next time I return to Wyck’s End I expect to be an uncle.”

The very thought of being a father tightened Brave’s gut and made his heart pound. He would like very much to be a father.

“I shall endeavor to meet your expectations,” he joked. “Especially since you’re leaving this spring for Nova Scotia. I’ll have plenty of time to beg Rachel to forgive me.”

“Oh, she’ll forgive you,” Gabriel predicted as they entered the great hall. “Once she realizes how much you love her.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is.” The darker man smiled. “It’s just men who make it so difficult.”

What convinced Rachel that Sir Henry’s nephew was nothing like his predecessor was the reinstatement of Potts as butler. Ever the faithful servant, the aging Potts had been a godsend these last couple of days. Only he and Mrs. Evans, the housekeeper, knew just where everything was, knew how to keep the rest of the staff in line. Some of the servants thought that since Sir Henry had shucked off his mortal coil, they didn’t have to do anything or take orders from anyone but the new master. The new master wasn’t due to arrive until Rachel had settled her mother’s affairs.

But now those affairs were almost settled. Two wagonloads of furniture and trunks had been sent off to Wyck’s End. Most of it would be stored until Marion needed it again. Only a few trunks had been set aside for Marion to take with her when she left, and two trunks held the few things Rachel wanted for herself, things she’d brought to Tullywood as a child or things that she had acquired over the years that reminded her of good times and not the bad.

“Everything appears to be in order, my lady,” Potts remarked, as Rachel stepped into the foyer.

“Excellent, Potts.” She was amazed at how little time it took to pack the entirety of her and her mother’s lives at Tullywood. Only their respective bedchambers had any personal touches, any warmth. Other than the few belongings in the attic, those two rooms had been the only ones to inventory and pack.

Everything seemed to be happening very quickly. Mr. Smith had already sold several of Sir Henry’s horses and had buyers interested in the rest. That was part of the reason for their meeting that afternoon. He had a bank draft for her mother for the amount of the sales. He had also made arrangements for Sir Henry’s personal items to be auctioned off.

How quickly more than a decade of misery could be disposed of.

“Will you be returning to Wyck’s End today, Lady Braven?”

Rachel smiled at the thinly veiled curiosity in the old retainer’s voice. “Not today, Potts. I have business to attend to in town with Mr. Smith, and the new baronet is coming for dinner this evening. I thought it would be easier for everyone if I showed him the house and introduced him to the staff.”

Potts nodded, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “Very well, my lady. Shall I send word to Wyck’s End that you’ll be returning on the morrow?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Rachel couldn’t keep a hint of sorrow from creeping into her voice. “Tomorrow is the day my mother leaves for London. They’ll be expecting me to return before she leaves.” In fact she had already received a note from her mother saying she absolutely refused to go anywhere without spending some time with Rachel first. Rachel took the missive not only as an indication that her mother was going to miss her, but as a gentle reminder that Rachel couldn’t stay away forever.

“As you wish, my lady. Shall I fetch your cloak and bonnet?”

Rachel nodded. “The rose velvet, please, Potts. And the gray gloves.” It was a chilly day, but thankfully clear. Rachel hated it when it was cold and damp. Yorkshire cold had a way of seeping into the bones and staying there for hours.

She looked forward to getting out of the house for a few hours. Tullywood was a lot like that cold in the bones; it lingered long after a person wished it gone.

Glancing around at the polished oak and high windows of the foyer, Rachel realized that it wasn’t the house that was so repulsive. It fact, Tullywood was quite nice. It was the man who had owned it that made it such an awful place. With luck, Marcus Westhaver would put an end to his uncle’s legacy.

Pott’s returned with her garments and draped the fur-lined velvet over Rachel’s shoulders as she slipped on her gloves.

“I shall return as soon as possible, Potts,” she said, as the butler opened the door for her.

“And if anyone should call, Lady Braven?”

By “anyone” he meant Brave. Rachel didn’t have to be a genius to figure that one out.

She smiled gently. “No one’s going to call, Potts.”

“But if
anyone
does, my lady?”

An exasperated chuckle broke forth from between Rachel’s lips. “Ask them to leave a card, Potts. Is there anything else?”

Potts shook his head. “No, my lady.”

“Very well. I shall be back shortly.”

Huddled deep into her cloak, Rachel stepped out into the frigid afternoon and down the low steps to the drive where her carriage sat waiting. It was one of Brave’s carriages. He had several. She doubted he even missed it.

The footman—one of Sir Henry’s—opened the door and unfolded the step for her. She was just about to take the hand he offered and climb inside when two men on horseback galloped up the drive.

Now what? Rachel sincerely hoped Mr. Smith wasn’t waiting for her because she was in grave danger of being late for their appointment.

As soon as the riders drew close enough, Rachel recognized them as the Earls Angelwood and Wolfram. Her heart lurched against her ribs. Had something happened to Brave?

“I’ll just be a moment,” she told the footman, and
stepped away from the carriage to greet her visitors. Whatever the two gentlemen had to say, she didn’t want the servants overhearing.

“Good day, Lady Braven,” they chorused, each with a tip of his stylish beaver hat.

Rachel smiled. Neither of them looked as though they’d come as the bearers of bad news. “Good day, my lords. To what do I owe this honor?”

“We’re on our way to London,” Gabriel replied as they both dismounted. “We didn’t want to leave without saying farewell and thanking you for your hospitality.”

“It was hardly my hospitality, Lord Angelwood. I’ve been absent for most of your visit.”

Rachel liked Brave’s friends, she truly did, and that made her comfortable in speaking her mind with them. They were protective of her husband. They genuinely cared for him, and that instantly raised her opinion of them right there. They also didn’t seem to find her a threat, something Rachel found unusual given their sex and relationship to her husband.

Gabriel smiled. “Your presence was felt every day, I assure you.”

He was a charmer, this one. Julian was more serious, more introverted, but no less appealing. Poets were always terribly romantic. Rachel would wager Brave and his friends had broken quite a few hearts when they were younger, and were quite good at it, if the way Brave had broken hers was any indication.

And yet all she wanted to do was have him make her understand so she could forgive him.

“I wish we had the time to get to know you better,” Julian told her, stepping closer. “I should like to call you friend as I do Brave.”

This coming from Miranda Rexley’s brother was almost too much for Rachel to bear. Her throat tightened with emotion. If the warmth of the earl’s gaze was as sincere as it looked, Rachel knew he meant it.

“Thank you, my lord.” That she could even speak was a miracle.

“Julian,” he replied.

“Yes,” Gabriel joined it. “There is no need for such propriety between friends. You must call us by our Christian names.”

Their offer of friendship, of open acceptance and support was overwhelming. Rachel could only stare and nod dumbly in compliance.

Gabriel glanced at the carriage. “Are you returning to Wyck’s End today?”

Rachel caught the hopeful note in his voice and smiled. Everyone wanted to know if she was returning to her husband. Everyone, it seemed, but Brave himself.

“Tomorrow,” she replied. “My mother and Annabelle, as you know, are also bound for London.”

“So you and Brave will finally have the house to yourselves again.” Gabriel’s smile was bright. Too bright.

Rachel nodded. “Yes. We will.”

Silence stretched among the three of them. Why had they come to see her? Rachel appreciated the sentiment, but she knew they hadn’t made a special trip to Tullywood to thank her for hospitality she hadn’t extended.

“Go easy on him,” Julian spoke softly, finally breaking the quiet. “He was acting out of the kindness of his heart.”

Rachel arched a brow. So they’d come to beg for mercy for their friend had they? “Was he?” She didn’t bother to hide her doubt, noting with some satisfaction that the Earl of Wolfram actually flushed.

“What Julian is trying to say is that Brave’s heart was in the right place,” Gabriel suggested, casting a sideways glance at his friend.

“By ‘the right place’ do you mean with me or with Miranda Rexley, my lord? Because I’m not sure if even Brave
knows the answer to that question. If you do, I’d surely love to hear it.” She kept her tone light. Brave’s friends did not deserve her hostility, nor had they earned the privilege of seeing just how hurt she was.

It was Julian, the poet, the word-bender, who answered, “A heart can start in one place and end in another, Rachel. It does not necessarily mean that one place is better than the other. What matters is how it got there.”

She met his golden gaze evenly. “Pretty words, Julian.”

Smiling, he took one of her hands in his. “The truth,” he told her. “Take it from someone who knows where Brave’s heart was when he met you, Rachel. It wasn’t in a bad place to begin with.”

Rachel was instantly contrite. Of course Julian would consider his sister’s memory worthy of such a gesture. How could she have been so insensitive to even mention it?

“But I believe Brave’s heart is in a much better place now,” he continued in that gentle voice of his. “A place that will appreciate all he has to offer. A place where he can love and be loved as he deserves.”

The man was too skilled at saying all the right things, blast it! Rachel’s vision blurred with tears as she stared into Julian’s earnest gaze.

Gabriel took her other hand. Sniffing, Rachel turned to him.

“I haven’t Julian’s talent with words, Rachel,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “But I do know that before you came along, Brave believed he had nothing to live for, and now he has you.”

“Oh!” Pulling her hands free from theirs, Rachel reached up and dabbed her eyes with the tips of her gloves. “The two of you are awful, truly awful!”

They laughed then, both of them, and each offered her a handkerchief to use instead of her gloves. Rather than choose between them and let one of them off easy, Rachel wiped her
eyes on Julian’s monogrammed linen and blew her nose in Gabriel’s. Each gentleman insisted that she keep the balled-up squares of fabric.

“And now we must depart,” Gabriel remarked, once she was feeling more herself again.

Rachel chuckled. “You’re a rake, Gabriel, making a lady cry and then running away.”

He grinned. “I like to kiss them before I leave them as well.” And he brushed a chaste kiss across her cheek.

“I don’t normally do either,” Julian joked. “But I’ll make an exception in this case.” Smiling, he leaned forward and kissed the other side of her face.