The Lady Who Saw Too Much (10 page)

“Gianna.” Clara poked Gia’s arm.

Gia blinked. “Yes, what is it?”

“Get me my hair brush. I can’t meet Howard in heaven looking like this.”

“Clara—”

“Please.” Clara closed her eyes.

Gia sighed. The poor woman was preparing to go, and Gia hadn’t the heart to stop her. Clara was nothing if not dignified, and her desperate plea spurred Gia to tears. There was no harm in appeasing the suffering woman. Accommodating the request might even help her rest easier. Anything to lessen her suffering.

Gia walked to Clara’s dressing table and picked up the silver hairbrush. She glanced into the mirror at Clara’s reflection behind her. Clara’s eyes were still closed, but the tense lines of her face marked her pain.

Gia’s gaze moved from the reflection of Clara to her own. She glanced down at the brush in her hand, clutching it tightly. She’d never succeeded in summoning a vision, and she was petrified of what she might see, but she had to try. She had to know. While she could do nothing for Clara, she could help prepare Alice and Landen for whatever might come.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Clearing her mind, she concentrated on nothing but the feel of the cool metal object in her hands.

The metal warmed in her palm, and she gasped, heart pounding. Releasing herself to the sensation, she welcomed the heat, inviting it in. The vision drifted through the darkness of her mind, drawing closer. Like an approaching lantern in the night, it neared, and she floated toward it—into it—until she was there.

Clara sat upright in bed, a breakfast tray on her lap. Dressed in the nightdress she wore now, she looked tired, but her eyes were bright. Her cheeks were rosy and flush as she bit with zest into a plump sweet roll.

Gia smiled, and the vision went dark. She opened her eyes, leaning forward on the table. Exhaustion gave way to jubilation as she turned to face Clara. “Shall I brush your hair for you now?”

Clara nodded. “Thank you, yes,” she murmured.

Gia brushed Clara’s hair. With each gentle stroke through Clara’s gray curls, Gia’s spirit soared higher and higher. For the first time, Gia had managed to summon a vision. She’d willed it to come to her, and it came. She’d controlled it.

This new aspect of her ability could change everything. She didn’t know how or why this had happened, or if it would happen again, but of one thing she was certain.

Howard would have to wait.

The clock on the mantel ticked away minutes that felt more like hours as Gia and Landen sat alone in the parlor. Doctor Reed had given Clara some private instructions to follow throughout the night. Until his return in the morning, Clara insisted on suffering without an audience.

Frazzled and exhausted, Alice had retreated to her own room a half hour ago, after Landen promised to wake her if there was any change with their aunt’s condition. Gia had dismissed Landen’s suggestion that she go to bed, too, opting instead to follow him downstairs.

The room darkened around the glow of the single lamp in the corner as their solemn vigil crept toward midnight. Even Gia’s certainty that Clara would recover did little to console her during the poor woman’s present misery. Gia glanced to Landen, which only made her feel worse.

Leaning forward on the edge of his seat, he sat across from her, elbows on his knees, rubbing his brow. He hadn’t uttered a word since bidding Alice good night, and his silent worrying now bordered on unbearable. Gia wrung her hands, aching to dispel his fears with what she knew.

Not that telling him about her vision of Clara’s recovery would ease his distress. The shock of learning his new wife clamed to possess some fantastic ability to foresee future events would merely compound his troubles. The last thing he needed was the added burden of discovering he’d married a mad woman.

“Clara is going to be fine,” Gia said, slicing through the deafening silence.

He blinked, glancing up at her, as though he’d forgotten she was there. He gave a swift brush to his stubbled jaw. Despite the weariness in his eyes, he looked so handsome.

“Forgive me for not sharing your confidence.” He reached for the decanter of brandy on the table between them. “Would you care for one?” he asked as he poured.

The heady aroma of liquor tempted her senses. She could barely breathe. The brandy flowed, rising slowly inside the beveled glass, rich and smooth. Liquid peace.

“No, thank you,” she lied. Inhaling a breath, she reclaimed her focus. “Clara is a strong woman. She’ll recover. Trust me.”

His eyes pinned hers. Gia cringed at her poor choice of words. In his harsh expression, she saw he had no intention of trusting her—not now—not ever.

Averting his gaze, he took a deep sip of his brandy. The alcohol seemed to relax him, and he eased back on the sofa. “Aunt Clara and I have always spent more time locking horns than anything else.”

Grateful he’d let her request for his trust pass without a retort, she straightened in her seat. “The two of you are a lot alike. It stands to reason—”

“We are nothing alike.”

The stubborn denial was too childish to resist. Gia nodded in mock agreement. “That’s precisely what Clara would say.”

He shook his head in defeat, curbing the smile that twitched on his lips.

The tension between them lightened, as did Gia’s mood.

“You and your aunt share the same determination to protect your family. You both do what you feel is best for those you love. Despite any resistance.”

“If you’re referring to my efforts with Alice, that’s true. But I’d never force my siblings to do anything that might hurt them.”

“And Clara would?”

His lips tightened. “Not intentionally, no.” He reached for his drink and took another long swallow. Reclining into his seat, he rested his head on the back of the sofa. He closed his eyes. “She dogged me so relentlessly to marry Isobel,” he uttered to the ceiling.

The brandy’s tranquil effect on him was apparent, and Gia indulged in the state of his loosened reserve.

“Alice mentioned that you were previously engaged.”

A sardonic smile stretched across his face. “Did she also mention that I was a fool?”

Gia frowned. “Of course not.”

He opened his eyes, then stared at the empty drink he held propped on his knee. “I should have expected as much from Isobel.”

Gia’s pulse quickened at his candor. Since first hearing about his engagement to Isobel, Gia had so many questions about the woman who had broken his heart. “What do you mean?”

He leaned upright to refill his drink. “When I first met her, she was engaged to another man.”

Despite Gia’s initial surprise, she concluded the outcome. Landen Elmsworth was handsome and smart. Wealthy. “And you stole her away?”

“Yes.”

His tone was provoking and brutal. Devoid of regret. Armed with such innate self-assurance, he possessed the means to rob anyone blind.

“But the night before the wedding, another man stole her from me.”

Gia regarded him closely. “That must have been very painful.”

“Just deserts.”

A note of contrition strained his sharp tone. Perhaps he rued his transgressions after all. This contrasting aspect to his arrogant nature intrigued her. However misguided she might be by the prospect, her desire to learn more about him flourished through her veins. Like the fevered excitement she’d felt at his physical touch, the anticipation of knowing his mind felt just as potent. “No one deserves to be hurt.”

He gave a snort of disgust. “I find that sentiment strange, coming from you.”

She stiffened against his renewed disdain. “I never intended to hurt you.”

His face turned to steel. “You intended to marry me. That’s one in the same.” He set down his drink, then shot to his feet. “I’m going to check on my aunt,” he said as he strode from the room.

* * * *

The soft nudge to Gia’s shoulder jolted her awake.

She sprang upright in the parlor chair, blinking hard. Alice stood over her with a beaming smile on her face. “Aunt Clara has passed the stone.”

Gia exhaled in relief.

“She’s resting comfortably now,” Alice said. “She’s even asked for something to eat.”

“I’ll have Florence prepare breakfast.”

“She already has. It’s waiting for us upstairs. Aunt Clara insisted we join her.”

Gia followed Alice upstairs, rejecting any halfhearted attempt to straighten her appearance. She was too tired, too emotionally drained to expend wasted effort to gain Landen’s approval.

Gia stepped into Clara’s room, and as before, was greeted by a scene from her visions. Clara sat upright in bed, a breakfast tray covering her lap. Resembling a woman who’d just endured the labor of childbirth, she looked tired and exhilarated at the same time.

Clara waved Alice and Gia toward the breakfast table by the window. Landen waited until they were seated before dragging another chair from the hall and joining them at the table. To avoid sitting with his back toward Clara, he slid the chair next to Gia, then sat beside her.

Positioning the chair for a better view of his aunt, he moved closer to Gia. His knee brushed hers, but she didn’t move. Neither did he. She glanced down at his knee, the muscular thigh resting against hers. When she looked up, he was watching her. The smirk on his lips matched the smug gleam in his eyes as he inched the chair closer.

She swallowed hard, doing her utmost to settle into his unsettling nearness. Clara prattled away between bites of breakfast, relaying the doctor’s sound advice that she forgo thoughts of returning to Saratoga and remain close to home. Everyone agreed, and they ate and laughed and celebrated her recovery over two pots of coffee and a mountain of sweet rolls.

“The Westcott Ball takes place in three weeks,” Clara announced. “Since my burial has been postponed, and you will not be in mourning, we shall all go together.”

Alice groaned.

“You cannot deny me now, missy,” Clara said, pointing the large roll in her fist. “I intend to use this family’s collective relief at my recovery to my full advantage.”

“Of course you do,” Landen said.

“Any objections to that?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “No objections at all.” He leaned toward Alice. “It’s going to be a long summer.”

“Very long.” Alice hung her head in her hands.

“Wretched imps.” Clara waved them off with a huff, but amusement danced in her eyes.

Despite all their bickering and underlying discord, it was now plain as day that the siblings truly loved their domineering old aunt. Perhaps this crisis might serve as a reminder to how truly blessed they were to have been given a second chance with her.

Gia thought about her brothers, and her heart felt as heavy as her bulking guilt. What she wouldn’t give for a second chance with them. For the opportunity to hug them, to make up for every instance she’d been annoyed or angered by them. To tell them she was sorry for killing them…

“Gia?” Alice asked. “Are you all right?”

Gia blinked. “Yes, I am fine.”

“You’re exhausted,” Landen interjected. “You’ve been up most of the night. Go get some rest.”

Whether his directive stemmed from concern or his wish to be rid of her, she didn’t know. She was too overjoyed by Clara’s recovery to care.

* * * *

When Gia awoke later that day, the sun was setting. She sat at the window, staring out at the lake. Beneath the pink and orange horizon, water rippled on the breeze. Despite how tired she’d been when she’d fallen into bed, she’d had trouble falling asleep. To her surprise, once she succumbed to her exhaustion, she’d slept soundly for hours. Now that she was awake, all her troubles stirred to life too.

Clara’s recovery reinforced what Gia had always known, but had lately forgotten. Landen was in danger. She felt lost and alone. Afraid.

“You’re awake.”

She started at the sound of Landen’s voice.

“How is she?” Gia asked as he stepped into the room.

“Sound asleep,” he said. “I’ve no doubt she’ll be out until morning.”

Gia nodded. “You must be exhausted as well.”

“On the contrary. I feel wide awake.”

He yanked his shirt from the waist of his trousers. The disheveled result caused a hitch in her throat. The intimacy of seeing him this way, in this room where they’d come so close to consummating their marriage, took her by storm. Had that been only yesterday?

Memories flashed through her mind. The charge of excitement that followed made it feel like a lifetime since he’d carried her naked to the bed. She rose to her feet, though she wasn’t sure why. Her breasts tingled with arousal. The heat flushing her cheeks pooled at her core.

“Are you hungry?”

She shook her head, summoning her voice through her lust. “Not at all.”

He stepped toward her, unbuttoning his shirt as he moved. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Yes.”

His blue eyes brimmed with need, not hatred, and she all but melted into a hot puddle at his feet.

“Are you certain?”

She nodded, heart pounding as he moved even closer.

“Good.” He stripped off his shirt. “Now get back into bed.”

Gia’s surprised expression turned coy. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer getting some sleep instead?”

Eyeing her intently, he shook his head at the memory of the body beneath the thin night rail. Making love to her was the only benefit to this marriage, and one he intended to use to his full advantage.

“I would prefer to proceed with where we left off yesterday.” He reached to touch her hair. The stray wisp at her temple felt like silk between his fingers. His lust for his new bride grew stronger with each passing moment. “I can refresh your memory in case you’ve forgotten. I had just carried you to the bed—”

“I remember.”

The flush of her cheeks made him smile. There was no room for modesty between them now. Not anymore. He’d had a sampling of the passion inside her. The passion he planned to fully unleash.

“So long as you feel up to—”

Clasping her face between his hands, he stifled her words with a kiss. The citrus scent of her flooded his senses. Desire channeled hot blood through his veins. He devoured the softness of her lips, the sweet taste of her mouth.