The Secret Rose (32 page)

“She also told me her father came home and realized what had transpired between you and his wife and nearly beat you to death.”

Stephen turned his head, staring at him with a very pensive look. “That was all?”

The look on Stephen’s face caught Ethan’s attention. It was as if another great secret lurked in the background, waiting to come out in the open. A secret that would shatter the tension already in the room. “Yes, she said you attacked her.”

“I tried to rape her. I thought if I ruined her, she’d be forced to marry me. That’s how desperately irrational I was. I needed her dowry. And I thought all was lost.”

Ethan leaned back in his chair and contemplated what Stephen said. Stephen’s words made him sick. If Stephen hadn’t already come close to dying, Ethan would be tempted to kill him himself. “She thought you were dead. The doctor assured her you wouldn’t survive.”

For a long time, Stephen said nothing, his silence stretching between them as wide as the piece of the story that was missing. When he spoke, his voice was soft.

“And you, Ethan? Did you think I was dead? Is that why you married Abigail?”

A feeling of rage washed over him. “I was too angry with you to consider that something might have happened to you. Angry because I was forced to come back to England to get you out of another mess. Angry because you had nearly lost everything Father had worked so hard to gain. And angry because our mother couldn’t see what an irresponsible wastrel you had become.”

Ethan rose and paced at the foot of the bed. “I had runners looking, but they didn’t discover your whereabouts until recently. What happened, Stephen? Why did it take you nearly two years to find your way back?”

Ethan didn’t mean for his words to come out so harshly, still filled with such anger.

“It’s a long story, Ethan. When I regained consciousness, I had no memory of who I was. I couldn’t remember my name, my family, where I belonged. And I was in so much pain I thought surely I’d die. But I didn’t. Each day I improved. When I was healthy enough, the captain put me to work aboard the ship.” A sad smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I developed a newfound respect for anyone sailing the sea. You are a rare breed, Ethan.”

“At least you learned that much,” Ethan said, although there was very little inside him that felt jovial enough to enjoy such banter. He waited for Stephen to continue.

“From the aches my body suffered at first, I knew I was not accustomed to physical labor. But each time I arrogantly insisted I couldn’t be expected to do such menial work, Captain Harding found another task for me to do, worse than the one I was complaining about. In time, I learned to keep my mouth shut and do my job. By the time we rounded the Cape, I had learned to adjust. I even fit in relatively well with the rest of the crew.” A small smile lifted the corners of his lips. “You would have been proud of me. I eventually turned into a fairly passable sailor.”

Ethan was stunned. “But you still couldn’t remember who you were?”

“No. I was known as Harry Smith.” Stephen gave a hollow laugh. “As good a name as any. I lived under the guise of Mr. Smith for months. Then, slowly, small snatches of my memory returned. The tree-lined drive leading to Penhurst Manor. Recollections of dressing in evening tails and dancing with beautiful women in fancy gowns. Nothing concrete. Just enough to make my mind search for more answers.

“One morning, I woke up and remembered everything. I knew my name, where I’d come from, who my family was. And worst of all, what I’d done. I became physically ill. Everything I’d done flashed before me like a horrible nightmare. The repulsive way I’d lived my life haunted me, and tortured my every waking hour. I stood face to face with my ugly self, and I couldn’t handle what stared back at me. I didn’t have the courage to go home to face what I’d left behind.”

“What did you do?”

“Captain Harding was making another voyage to China for tea, and I signed on with him, letting everyone still believe I was Harry Smith. I wasn’t ready to come back. I didn’t have the courage to face you, or Abigail. Especially Abigail. I could barely live with myself once I’d remembered what a loathsome and reprehensible person I’d been.”

“How did you meet up with Stafford?” Ethan asked.

“Oh, what an ugly twist of fate.” Stephen tried to sit up straighter, and Ethan moved to help him.

“I discovered a person can only ignore his mistakes so long. I tired of running. Unbelievable as it sounds, I’d changed enough that my conscience wouldn’t allow me to rest until I’d made restitution.”

“So you came home?” Ethan asked, remembering the message Mr. Harper had sent, telling him he had important information concerning his brother. He’d found out Stephen was in London.

“Yes. Except I didn’t go right home. I spent my first evening ashore with the rest of the crew at the Keg and Barrel. While I was there, Preston Cranville, Baron Cranville’s youngest son, came in. He recognized me. He was playing cards with Stafford and introduced us. The surprised look on Stafford’s face should have given me warning, as well as the intent interest he showed in my family. In you. But I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

Stephen leaned back heavily against the propped pillows. “I left the Keg and Barrel shortly after, ready to go home. That was the last I remember. I didn’t make it past the first alley before three men jumped me and hit me over the head. When I awoke, I was here. The rest you know.”

Stephen turned his head to face Ethan. “The man was crazy with his hatred for you. He was still nursing a wound he said Abigail had given him, and he told me what he was going to do to make you pay for all you’d done to him. He was sick with his thoughts of revenge.”

“I’m sorry you got mixed up in this, Stephen.”

“I’m just glad it’s over.”

Ethan walked to the window. The rounded tip of the sun had just made its appearance over the horizon, a bright orange hue against the purple and blue sky. “What do you intend to do, Stephen?”

“I’ve changed, Ethan. I’m not the same man I was when I left nearly two years ago. I intend to take my place as the sixth Earl of Burnhaven. I’ve done much for which I must make restitution. Especially to you. You’ll never have to be responsible for me again. I’m going to be a son Father would have been proud to claim.”

There was a noise in the doorway, and Abigail stood there with Mary Rose in her arms and tears streaming down her cheeks.

Ethan went to stand beside Abby, then walked with her to the bed, so Stephen could get a clear look at Mary Rose.

Stephen’s eyes widened. An expression that contained a mixture of disbelief and incredulity covered his face.

“Is the babe…yours?” he asked Abby.

Ethan placed his arm around Abby’s shoulders and held her more securely. She turned her head until her tear-filled eyes were locked with his.

He knew she wanted an answer from him. An indication of how she should answer. He knew, though, that the answer had to be hers. That the decision that would affect the rest of their lives was hers to make.

She pressed a kiss to Mary Rose’s forehead, then slowly shifted her gaze to where Stephen lay and shook her head. “Her name is Mary Rose,” Abby answered in a broken voice. “My mother died giving birth to her.”

The sound that came from Stephen echoed in the room. It resembled the keening moan of an animal in pain. Or the cry of a wounded seaman injured in battle.

“She is mine?” he said, more as a statement than a question.

Abby didn’t answer him, and neither did Ethan.

“Did your father claim her as his own?”

Abby shook her head.

Stephen’s face paled. He took in several harsh breaths, then looked from Abigail to Ethan. “Is this why you married? To give my daughter a name?”

Ethan dropped his arm from around Abby’s shoulder and stepped to the bed. When he was close enough, he grabbed Stephen’s nightshirt and pulled him toward him. “How dare you! There is only one reason I married Abigail. That’s because I love her! As I do Mary Rose.”

“Ethan,” Abby said, placing a calming hand on his arm. “This will get us nowhere.”

Ethan released Stephen and let him fall back to the pillows.

“You have my apology,” Stephen said when he’d recovered. “That was uncalled for. I never deserved Abigail. Especially as the person I was before. But I’ve changed, and I intend to show you that I’m not the worthless no-good I used to be.”

“Then you will do what is best for the child?”

“Yes. I have a daughter now. I intend to be her father.”

The air froze in Ethan’s lungs. Stephen’s words struck him with the thrust of a battering ram. Abby staggered beside him, and he reached out an arm to steady her.

“I’ll not turn my back on what is mine ever again, Ethan. You have been my keeper long enough. You’ve taken care of all my mistakes as if you made them. You’ve taken the brunt of my punishment as if the errors were your own. If I’ve learned anything these past two years, it’s that I alone am responsible for my actions. Mary Rose is mine. I’ll not turn my back on her.”

“You can’t mean that Stephen,” Ethan argued. Black spots of fear nearly blinded him.

“But I do. Mary Rose’s mother would want her daughter to have all the benefits I can provide her. She would want her to be raised in London, to learn the social graces she can learn nowhere else in the world. She would want Mary Rose to take her rightful place in Society.”

Ethan stared at his brother with an anger he could contain no longer. “Mary Rose’s mother is dead! If you took her to London, she would always be branded a bastard.”

Stephen shook his head. “I’m the Earl of Burnhaven. Once the size of my daughter’s dowry is known, the circumstances surrounding her birth won’t be important.”

“Enough!” Abigail shouted loud enough to startle them. “Do I get a say in what will be best for me? And for Mary Rose? Or do only you two intend to decide what I’ll do?”

Stephen answered, his voice as steady and sure as if he already knew what she would decide. “Yes. Of course you’ll have a say in your future. And that of Mary Rose. The choice will be yours. You can make a life for yourself with Ethan and raise a family of your own, or you can come with Mary Rose and me.”

Abigail didn’t react. Ethan thought he saw a slight lift to her chin, and recognized a more determined look on her face, but her thoughts were hidden from him.

“There’s no need to make your decision now, Abigail,” Stephen added, his voice teaming with consideration. “You may have all the time you want. There’s no need to make a decision until I am healthy enough to return to Society.”

Abigail didn’t look at Ethan but kept her eyes riveted on Stephen, the man she’d once agreed to marry.

Ethan’s heart threatened to stop beating. His world tipped on its axis. He was in jeopardy of losing everything. He was in jeopardy of losing Abigail. And Mary Rose.

He couldn’t let it end like this. “Abigail?”

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t twitch a muscle or lift a brow. Or clench her fists in indecision. “I’m the only mother Mary Rose has ever known. I’ll never be separated from her,” she said without hesitation. “Never.”

Ethan digested what she said as if each word was a bullet fired at him from close range. The heavy weight inside his chest ached with a force he could barely stand up against.

On legs that felt inhumanly wooden, he made his way to the door. He struggled to take in enough air to sustain him until he made it through the opening. Then he closed the door behind him.

She had made her choice.

Dear God in Heaven
. How could he live with what she’d decided?

Ethan pulled harder on the fallen yardarm, the hot sun beating down on his bare back, the muscles across his shoulders straining under the weight of the heavy wood that had trapped the knotted rigging he endeavored to untangle.

Another set of helping hands would have made the job much easier, but there wasn’t a sailor aboard the
Emerald Gold
foolish enough to come within fifty feet of him. Mac included.

He’d been doing the work of three men ever since he’d left Abigail nearly six hours earlier, working out his anger and frustration as if eventually the pain of losing her wouldn’t hurt quite so much. Ethan sucked in another heavy breath, the burning in his chest razor sharp and biting. What if this hurt never went away?

He heaved another piece of timber that should have taken two men to lift.
Bloody hell!
She hadn’t even hesitated when she’d made her declaration to stay with Mary Rose.

I’ll never be separated from Mary Rose. Never.

How had he been so foolish as to think she would choose him? How could she have given herself to him with such total and complete abandon all those weeks on the ship when she could make the decision to leave him so easily? How could he have given her his heart without realizing he was at risk of losing it?

He straightened his stance, his feet braced wide, his arms stretched out, his hands gripping two taut lines of rigging. A breeze washed over him, soothing the burning muscles across his shoulders. If only the wind could ease the hurt inside his chest, the ache that threatened to take him to his knees.

A cruel desperation consumed every part of him, especially the part that knew he wouldn’t survive when she left.

He dropped his head back on his shoulders and closed his eyes, letting the bright sunshine bathe him. How could he ever give her up?

How could he force her to stay with him if it meant she’d lose Mary Rose?

His fingers tightened around the rigging that spiraled high above him. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the glazed look of passion in her eyes the last time they’d made love. Hear her loud cries of fulfillment when she found her release. Feel the desperation in her kisses, the frantic clutching of her hands as she’d pulled him to her and held him close. How could he survive without ever loving her again.

“Ethan.”

Every muscle in his body froze. Her voice reached out to him, attacking him with a fresh wave of pain and loss and regret. He lifted his chin and stared out at the long line of ships anchored in the delta.