To Marry an Heiress (23 page)

Dear God, he’d even begun to fancy himself in love with her.

Spinning around, he glared out the window. The dark clouds were rolling in. The storm would be here by nightfall, but it paled when compared to the tempest twisting inside him.

For all he’d worked so damned hard to acquire, he’d never in his life felt so incredibly destitute.

Gina galloped over the rolling hills as though the hounds of hell were baying at her heels, threatening to bite her horse’s flanks.

She could hardly fathom his dispassionate offer.

His uncompromising glare and harsh words that
awful day in London when he’d announced he’d no longer be visiting her bed had cut her to the bone. Today he’d offered to give her what she’d thought she most wanted: a child.

Although his children had filled the aching void in her heart, she still desperately desired her own child. She wanted to place her hand on her stomach and know life blossomed within her. She wanted to feel the subtle movements. She wouldn’t even mind the pain that accompanied childbirth, because she was certain it would fade to nothing in her memory the instant she held her child in her arms.

But as much as she wanted a child, she’d come to realize in the passing months she wanted Devon’s love more.

She brought her horse to a halt and looked out over the fields where she’d lived some of the happiest moments of her life. Tears washed down her cheeks. She was tormented by the knowledge that he would never love her as she did him. The memory of his deceased wife would always stand between them.

But to leave him would break her heart.

Yet how could she not leave when she knew that staying would shatter it as well.

When he’d made love to her before, she’d not fathomed the true extent of his love for his first wife. Now that she’d lived in the woman’s shadow for months, she knew she could never again lie beneath the woman’s husband—and pretend that it was her that he cared for.

“Milord, the stable boy informs me Midsummer Moon has returned.”

Sitting at his desk, rubbing his brow, Devon thought it was an odd statement for Winston to make, but he was so absorbed by Gina’s revelation that she planned to return to Texas that he didn’t give any thought to the reason he considered it odd.

He understood his wife so little. She dusted when he wasn’t looking—he knew she did, because he’d caught her at it, unknown to her—she scrubbed, she’d planted a nice-sized vegetable garden. She’d worked in his fields, threshed his wheat…

“Milord?”

He lifted his head and glared at his butler. “I’m striving to concentrate here, Winston.”

“Yes, milord, I can see that you are. It’s just that…Well, milord, Lady Huntingdon has not returned.”

Everything within Devon stilled. “What do you mean she hasn’t returned?”

A crack of thunder echoed, causing the panes of glass to rattle. Winston cast a furtive look at the window. “She took the horse out for a ride, milord, but only the horse has returned to the stables.”

“You think she was unseated?”

“I don’t know what to think, milord.”

“Bloody damned hell.” Devon shoved himself to his feet with such ferocity he sent the chair crashing to the floor. He strode across the library. “Fetch my coat.”

“I have it here, milord.”

He reached back and grabbed the coat, not waiting for Winston to assist him but simply thrusting
his arms into it as he quickened his pace. He was halfway across the foyer before the tiny voice stopped him.

“Father, there’s a storm,” Millicent said.

He spun around. Both children stood at the bottom of the stairs, Jake sitting between them, his tongue hanging out.

“We want Gina, Father,” she added.

“I know you do, Kitten,” he said, crossing back to them and kneeling before them. “I’m off to look for her now.”

“Where is she?” Millicent asked.

“I don’t know. Did she happen to mention where she planned to go riding?”

“No, Father, but she should have come back before the rain started,” Noel said.

“Yes, I’m sure she meant to.” He didn’t want to upset them by mentioning the horse had but she hadn’t. “That’s the reason I’m going to look for her.”

“Jake could help you, Father,” Noel said with utmost seriousness. “He finds us when we play hide and seek.”

“Indeed.” He glanced at the dog. He thought it highly unlikely that he could sniff out anything in the rain.

“You just have to give him something of hers to smell so he knows who you want him to search for,” Noel explained.

“Undoubtedly unnecessary at this point.” He placed his hand on each child’s head, communicating assurance, wishing to lessen their fears, a touch that would not have occurred to him before Gina
had arrived to so absolutely unsettle his life.

The woman who had no place for rules in her life.

Thunder echoed around them. He turned to Winston with more confidence than he felt. “Have a bath prepared for the countess. She’ll no doubt look like a drowned cat and be quite cold once she returns.”

The dog released a little whine. Such a large creature to emit such a helpless sound. He stopped himself short of patting the beast’s head and murmuring words of comfort to it. It was an animal—but he knew that reasoning wouldn’t have stopped Gina.

She gave love to everyone and everything. Had he ever known anyone who possessed an unlimited capacity to love?

He stood and strode through the foyer to the front door.

“Find her, Father,” Millicent called after him in a voice reflecting her age and her fears.

“I shall, Kitten,” he called.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

A promise that was proving difficult to keep under the circumstances. No one knew where she might have ridden. No one noticed from which direction the horse had returned.

Devon searched the gardens, the area around the stables, the land on either side of the path that led to the main road. The rain continued to fall, lightning periodically lit the black sky, thunder shook the air, and his trepidation increased.

Rivulets of water created shallow pools around
him. If she’d landed face down, if she’d lost consciousness, if the water rose around her, would she drown? He’d heard of drunken men drowning in inches of water.

Where the deuce was she?

She might not care what he thought, but she wouldn’t stay away on purpose. She wouldn’t want to worry the children. The children, of course. She wouldn’t want to worry them.

And yet she was contemplating leaving them. Leaving him he could well understand, but to leave the children? He couldn’t fathom why she would even consider it.

Margaret wouldn’t…. Margaret. By God, how often did he think of her? How often did he speak of her to his current wife? What sort of fool was he?

And yet none of the thoughts, none of the spoken words reflected happiness. They all revolved around Margaret’s disappointments, his failing to make her happy.

With his constant references to Margaret he’d managed to make Gina miserable.

Gina, who possessed a far greater capacity to love than any woman he’d ever known.

Gina, who did not look to others for her happiness but created it herself.

Gina who would never leave his children unless she’d truly convinced herself it was in their best interest—unless he’d allowed her to believe they would all be happier without her.

Her father had spoken of wealth beyond imagining. Devon realized now that he possessed a de
plorable lack of imagination, because where Gina was concerned, the wealth
was
immeasurable.

Out here, searching frantically, he wouldn’t know if she’d returned to the house, which she’d no doubt already done. He’d been looking for an hour, scouring the nooks and crannies.

She was such a skilled rider. He could not fathom that she’d be unseated. He tried to convince himself that another logical explanation existed. She’d no doubt dismounted so she could inspect a plant that took her fancy, as she was wont to do. Perhaps a clap of thunder had startled the horse and caused it to bolt. She’d no doubt trudged home while he had been searching.

But somberness greeted him when he walked into the manor. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt it long before he saw anyone, before anyone knew he’d returned.

The manor had never felt so empty or forlorn. The grief upon Margaret’s death had not hovered this thickly, this ominously.

Margaret again. He needed to exorcise her memory. She was his past. Gina, he desperately hoped, would be his future. If he could only convince her to stay.

Thunder resounded, and a shudder rippled through him.

He caught sight of Winston striding toward him. “Has she returned?”

But the answer was clearly written on Winston’s face.

“No, milord.”

“All right, then. Gather up some lanterns. It’s black as Hades out there.”

“Yes, milord.”

He rushed up the sweeping staircase. He had to appear unworried, had to keep his escalating fears under control. It would not do for the Earl of Huntingdon to show panic.

Gina would no doubt chastise him once he found her. He could hear her now, ordering him, “Show it, if that’s what you feel.”

Strange how her voice was ensconced in his mind. He could carry on a conversation with her without her being present. How long would that ability continue if she left him? If she did indeed return to Texas?

She was no doubt bluffing.

He entered her room. The open trunk sat near the foot of the bed. Far from empty. How could he not remember that his wife did not bluff?

Where was she?

He strode to the bed and snatched up her nightgown. Soft against his fingers, as comforting as she was. He didn’t have to press it against his nose to smell her scent wafting around him.

She was everywhere in this room. Her subtle fragrance somehow managing to fan out over everything.

How like Gina, with her quiet ways and her penchant for creeping behind fronds. How like her in the final tally to exhibit such a presence that he could see her, smell her, hear her as though she stood before him now.

He marched from her bedchamber along the hallway, down the stairs, across the foyer, up the stairs, and into the day nursery. It was long past time for the children to be abed, but here they were sitting before the hearth, Mrs. Tavers closing the book in her lap.

Gina had even managed to win the old bat over. Before her influence, the governess would have ordered the children to bed regardless of circumstances. Now bed did not happen until their stepmother tucked them in.

Devon held his son’s earnest gaze. “Do you truly think Jake could find her?”

Terror was evident in his son’s eyes before he straightened and took on the mantle of the heir apparent, displaying a confidence Devon thought he probably didn’t feel.

“Oh, yes, Father, I’m sure of it.”

Devon thrust the soft flannel toward him. “Her nightgown.”

Noel took it, knelt before the dog, and pressed it against its muzzle. The dog’s tail began thumping the floor with a force that might have been dangerous if anyone happened to get in the way.

“Find her, Jake,” Noel ordered. “Find her.”

The dog took off at an ungainly lope. Noel extended the gown toward Devon. “Take it with you, Father, so you can remind him of her scent from time to time.”

Devon shoved it inside his coat. Her scent wafted up and around him, comforting him.

He would find her, by God, he would.

He found the dog at the door in the foyer, throwing his gangly body against it as though he intended to break it down. Devon attached a leash that he’d located, left over from the days when he had hounds, and they were off, the dog straining against the restraint.

But on this moonless night he couldn’t risk losing the dog as well.

A short while later he sat astride the gelding, cantering over the fields, carrying a lantern that Winston had brought him. When he’d left the estate, he’d seen a half-dozen lights floating in the darkness as his servants searched for their mistress.

His first stop had been Benjamin’s cottage. Devon had tried to explain the situation coolly, but fear had continually crept into his voice. Fear, dread, loneliness. He’d never in his entire life felt so alone.

He thought he’d been alone when Margaret had turned from him. Only now did he realize that with her, he’d always been alone.

Ah, he’d loved her. Her gentle beauty, her genteel nature. He knew he’d loved her. But she’d never challenged him, frustrated him, worked beside him, give to him far more than he’d ever given to her.

Theirs was a polite marriage, a proper relationship. So utterly boring he wondered now how it was that he’d never noticed before.

Sparks, fire, ice, chills. Laughter, smiles, yelling. His marriage to Gina followed no rules. He never knew what to expect. He only knew he found it exciting.

Once Benjamin understood that Devon was looking for Gina, he’d sent his nine-year-old son to the homes of the other laborers, alerting them to the need to gather and search for Lady Huntingdon.

Devon had watched the young boy run off into the rain, no umbrella, no jacket, no shoes upon his feet, taking off with nothing more than a quick bob of his head and a “Yes, sir.”

Ah, yes, these people who were good enough to work his fields…He suddenly realized that they were the very best friends he had. As the search continued and expanded, he could only see the increasing number of lanterns, not those who held them.

Devon did not delude himself into thinking they’d come quickly in order to ease his burden. They were here, just as he was, desperate to find the woman who had become an indelible part of their lives, a woman with whom they’d talked, laughed, and worked.

A woman who cared nothing for rank or privilege but simply cared.

Devon drew his horse to a halt and dismounted. With muddy, wet paws, Jake leaped on him, barking feverishly.

Devon pulled the now soaked gown from inside his jacket. He’d allowed the dog to sniff it a dozen times now. He doubted it had any scent left except for the fragrance of rain, but he could hope, with everything in him, he could hope.