Valentine (28 page)

“It was my own damn fault,” he declared, almost squeezing the life out of her. “Of all the goddamned arrogant, stupid things to have done. I should be dead, Theo!”

“Oh, don’t say that!” She stood back and examined his face. He had aged, lines of suffering etched indelibly around his mouth and eyes, but the humorous light still glimmered in those green eyes, and his mouth retained its wry quirk.

“Have you seen Emily yet?”

Edward shook his head. “I only arrived home last night. I was on my way to the dower house, but I wanted to see you first.” He ran his hand over his chin, his eyes suddenly stark. “I wanted you to come with me.”

Theo understood immediately. He knew Emily’s sensitive soul, and he was afraid to spring himself upon her as he now was.

“Emily was distraught,” she said quietly. “But she’ll be overjoyed to see you.”

“Will she?” Then he dismissed the self-pitying question with typical briskness. “So will you come with me? Shall we fetch Dulcie, or shall we walk?”

“Oh, let’s walk,” Theo said, realizing that she was unwilling to go back to Stoneridge, to spoil this reunion with a return to the dismal tangle at home.

Edward paused, examining her, and she swore silently. They’d always had an uncanny ability to sense each other’s innermost feelings.

“Shouldn’t I pay my respects to your husband?” Edward asked.

“Not now,” she said. “He’s busy.”

“Oh?” Edward continued to regard her. “I was surprised to hear your news. It seems very sudden.”

“It was,” she said, unable to hide the bitterness in her tone. “Four weeks from start to finish. Stoneridge doesn’t dawdle when his mind is set.”

Edward frowned. “What is it, Theo?”

No, she couldn’t even tell Edward … Edward, from whom she’d never had any secrets, before whom she couldn’t imagine feeling embarrassed or ashamed. She couldn’t tell him, not yet, at least. Besides, he had troubles and insecurities of his own, and she would not lay her burdens on him now, even if they were tellable.

“Nothing serious, Edward. We’re just a trifle at outs.”
The understatement of the year.
“Shall I lead Robin? Then you can hold my hand.” She smiled at him, and there was no further indication of her own turmoil.

Edward allowed himself to be diverted. Apprehension about his upcoming meeting with Emily had preoccupied him for too long to be put aside until it was over.

“Tell me how it happened.” Theo demanded as they walked hand in hand across the cliff and to the drive that led to the dower house.

She listened. She heard the bitter, self-directed anger beneath the light description of his foolhardy stroll to the picket line; she heard the hideous agony behind his brief description of the amputation and the journey across Spain to the coast. But she made no more of it than her friend did. Emily would do the fussing, and Edward would expect it from her. He wouldn’t expect it from his childhood comrade.

When they reached the dower house, Edward’s firm step faltered. “I don’t wish to startle her,” he muttered. “Will you go in and warn her?”

“Warn her of what?” Theo inquired with a raised eyebrow.
“Her fiancé’s return? For heaven’s sake, Edward, you used to love to surprise her. Emily loves surprises. She’ll burst into tears, of course, but tears of joy. She loves to cry with happiness.”

“Oh, Theo,” he said. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, of course I do. And I’m telling you not to be such an idiot. Come on.”

She tethered Robin to the gatepost of the dower house, then took Edward’s hand, running him along the path. “Emily … Mama … Clarry … see who’s here.”

Elinor was in her boudoir when she heard Theo’s exuberant tones quickly followed by Emily’s cry. “Edward! Oh, Edward.” And the sound from the hall became a confused turmoil of voices and tears.

Elinor went quietly downstairs, prepared to deal with the inevitable surge of emotions attendant on Edward’s arrival.

Edward separated himself from his betrothed as Elinor descended the stairs. He came forward, holding out his hand. “Lady Belmont.”

“Edward, dearest.” Ignoring his hand, she embraced him. “How wonderful to see you.”

Edward was flushed, and a determined look crossed his face. “Lady Belmont … Emily … I came to say that of course I am ready to release Emily from our engagement immediately.”

There was a stunned silence; then Theo said, “Edward, you great gaby. How could you possibly say something so idiotish?”

Before Edward could respond, Emily had flung herself against his chest. “How could you possibly imagine it could make the slightest difference? Theo’s right, you’re a gaby, Edward!” She was weeping against his shirtfront, and he held her tightly, his eyes meeting Lady Belmont’s. She shook her head at him in mock reproof and smiled.

“Can I see it, Edward?” Rosie’s high voice broke into the tender scene.

“See what?” He released Emily and bent to embrace the girl.

“Where your arm ought to be,” Rosie said matter-of-factly. “Is there a stump? Or does it stop right at the shoulder?”

“Oh, Rosie!” It was a universal groan.

“But I’m interested,” the child persisted. “It’s good to be interested. If you’re not interested in things, you don’t learn anything, Grandpapa said.”

“Very true,” Theo agreed. “But that doesn’t permit such personal questions, you obnoxious brat.”

“I’m not an obnoxious brat,” Rosie declared, not at all offended. “Won’t you show me, Edward?”

“One day,” he said, laughing with the rest of them. Rosie had managed to turn his nightmare into an ordinary, interesting fact of life. She’d somehow managed to puncture his dread that his mutilation would disgust those he loved, would turn love into pity.

“Is it all healed?”

“Yes, but it’s not very pretty.” He glanced at Emily over the child’s head. “It’s very red and raw looking.”

“Does it pain you?” The soft question was Emily’s.

“When the wind’s in the wrong direction,” he said. “Come and walk with me, love.”

Emily nodded, taking his outstretched hand.

“You will dine with us, I hope, Edward?” Elinor said.

“Yes, if I may,” he responded.

“In that case I hope the invitation extends to me,” Theo declared.

“What of Stoneridge?” Edward raised an eyebrow.

“He has a previous engagement,” she said firmly.

For an instant the temptation to pour out her heart to her mother, weep her anger and mortification away, receive the comfort Elinor always had to offer, almost got the better of her. And then she smiled briefly and said, “He went into Dorchester on business. He’ll be dining there.”

Elinor nodded. Her daughter was lying. The strain in the dark eyes, the jangled chords of her unhappiness, couldn’t be hidden from her mother. But Theo always dealt with problems in her own way, and if, as Elinor suspected, this was something to do with her marriage, then it was best that Theo and Stoneridge came to their own resolution. Elinor had no intention of playing either interfering mother-in-law or over-protective mother. It would do far more harm than good where two such strong personalities were concerned.

S
YLVESTER FELL INTO
a laudanum-induced sleep toward midnight and awoke just before dawn filled with the sense of well-being approaching euphoria that always followed the agony.

It didn’t take long for the euphoria to dissipate as he lay in the semidarkness remembering what had triggered the attack—a mercifully short attack for once, but it couldn’t have come at a more inopportune moment.

He threw aside the bedclothes and stood up, stretching before going to the window, flinging it wide, inhaling the salt-sea fragrances on the light breeze blowing from the cliff top. He stared into the misty, pale light and heard in his head Theo’s voice, despairing in its confusion and rage, hurling those dreadful accusations at him.

He glanced toward the connecting door to his wife’s bedchamber. Presumably she was still asleep. In other circumstances he would have been tempted to go in and wake her in the way he knew she loved, with the long, slow strokes of passion that would bring the sleepy whimpers of delight to her lips, and her eyes would eventually open, deep, limpid pools
brimming with sensuality, her mouth curving with amused pleasure.

But not this morning.

Deciding he’d take advantage of the dawn peace to gather his thoughts and marshal his arguments, he dressed rapidly and went downstairs, where he took a shotgun and a game bag from the gun room and let himself out of the house.

Webster’s Pond lay beyond the orchard, through a band of thick undergrowth and massed blackberry bushes. The air smelled of sea and the damp grass beneath the tangled undergrowth. Spiky tendrils from the bushes caught at his buff coat and slashed across his buckskin britches. The sun was veiled in the dawn mist, a suffused reddish glow on the horizon, and the morning was alive with the exuberant calls of the dawn chorus and the indignant chatter of squirrels as he penetrated the undergrowth, disturbing their preserve.

He was following a narrow ribbon where the undergrowth was trampled into something resembling a path, but it clearly hadn’t been used that recently, and the whole feel of the place was of somewhere rarely visited by man. The sport certainly should be excellent.

He caught a glimmer of the pond through the bushes as he pushed aside a tangle of thorny branches with the butt of his gun. It was a large body of water, more of a lake than a pond, thick reeds massed at the edge, lily pads floating serenely across the flat brown surface.

Sylvester took a step forward onto the narrow bank, and something hit him in the middle of the back, sending him crashing to the ground.

“What the hell!” Winded, he stared up at his assailant, more angry than alarmed. A young man stood over him … a young man with the empty sleeve of his jacket pinned across his chest, and a gun on his other shoulder.

“I beg your pardon,” Edward said. “But you were about to put your foot into this vile thing.” He gestured to the oval
jagged-toothed trap concealed in the underbrush. “I saw it a second before you took that step.”

“Sweet Jesus!” Sylvester got to his feet, staring at the vicious iron, nausea rising in his gorge as he imagined the bite of those teeth rending his calf, breaking the bone.

“They’ve never used man traps on Belmont land before,” Edward was saying, frowning. He glanced at his companion. “You must be Lord Stoneridge, sir.”

There was a crackle of breaking twigs from the bushes, and they both spun round, with a soldier’s instinct bringing their guns to the ready, Edward with a neat twist, swinging his weapon under his arm.

“There’s a goddamned man trap back there!” Theo exclaimed, her eyes blazing, her mouth a taut line.

“And another one here,” Edward said, gesturing, lowering his gun.

Theo bent and picked up a thick chunk of wood. She drove it into the trap, and the teeth sprang forward with well-oiled speed, sinking into their prey.

“I sprung the other one, too,” she said. She looked up at Sylvester, the anger still burning in her eyes. “Was this your doing, Stoneridge? We have never tolerated man traps on Belmont land.”

She glared at him, her chin lifted, hostility and challenge in every line of her body. Clearly the night had brought no softening. Sylvester replied calmly, “No, of course it was not my doing. I nearly stepped into the damned thing myself. If it hadn’t been for the speedy action of …” He turned to Edward. “Lieutenant Fairfax, I presume.”

“Yes, sir.” Edward extended his hand. “I hope you don’t think I’m trespassing, but Theo and I were to meet here for some shooting.”

“My dear fellow, I stand in your debt,” Sylvester said with a grimace. He glanced at Theo and saw that she too had a shotgun over her shoulder. “Three minds with but a single thought, clearly.”

Theo’s brow wore a preoccupied frown, and she seemed to have simmered down. She said slowly, “I don’t think someone likes you very much, Stoneridge.”

“What?” For a minute he thought she was referring to herself.

“This, on top of Zeus’s saddle,” she said. “Does it strike you as pure coincidence?”

“Don’t be fanciful,” he responded. “A man trap could catch anyone.”

“But hardly anybody comes here. Who told you about the pond? I’m sure I didn’t.”

Sylvester frowned. “I can’t remember…. Oh, yes, it was Henry. He said someone in the village had mentioned it.”

“Who in the village?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Well, somebody set these traps, and it sure as hell wasn’t any Belmont man.”

Sylvester glanced at Edward. The young man appeared not to notice Theo’s free and easy tongue. But, then, neither did anyone else … only her husband, it seemed.

“I think we’d better beat the undergrowth and see if there are any more of these filthy things.” Edward picked up a thick stick and swished it through the brambles.

They separated, taking the tangled brush in sections, and found two more.

“Do you notice how they’re all along the same route?” Theo said, slamming another dead branch into the last trap. “All placed along the path someone from the manor would take.”