What a Spinster Wants Page 24

  Graham had wanted to shut down the house party and send the lot of his guests home, given that there was no reason for any of them to be there now. But every one of his friends had advised against it, suggested that such an action would do more harm to Edith than good, as it was. They could spread her own story, that her cousin had come to fetch her on urgent family business, and that her belongings would be sent for.

  The truth would come out eventually, but they would have time to put various pieces in motion before that.

  Henshaw had argued, alongside Graham, that Edith could suffer considerably at the hands of the weasel while the lot of them moved their chess pieces into position. What, he had countered, would be left to save of her if they waited so long?

  For a man not in love with Edith, Henshaw did a fine job of behaving like one. His scowl could have matched Graham’s. His surly nature from the moment she had gone was Graham’s. His desire for revenge actually rivalled Graham’s. And no one was on Graham’s side with the same passion, drive, and fierceness as Henshaw.

  What a pair they would have made had they nothing to risk and time enough to give Sir Reginald what he deserved.

  Both of them were reminded of Owen, Edith’s brooding and hulking servant, as well as Edith’s brother, who had remained in London.

  Word was sent to both immediately as to the situation at hand.

  Then, one by one, his guests had left, assignments all around, and there was nothing more to be done but finish out his hosting duties. The remainder of the guests had left at the scheduled time, and Merrifield seemed darker and more hollow when no one else was left.

  He wasn’t naïve enough to think that it was due to his guests that this was the case. They had only been a distraction; sights, sounds, and smells to occupy him while he avoided curling up in his study to give in to the howling creature of despair within him.

  Agony called to him, and he could not let himself answer.

  Edith had been the one to make the place glow and come alive, and it was her absence that darkened it. He’d never thought Merrifield lacking in any respect until she had gone from it.

  She made everything and anything better simply by her presence.

  He was the chief example of that.

  “Graham?”

  He looked up from where he sat behind his desk to see Eloise entering the room. “Aunt.”

  She smiled gently, though her complexion was nearly gaunt in its pallor.

  Edith’s departure had affected her as much as anybody else, and she hadn’t left her room more than a handful of times in the days following. She’d insisted that she wasn’t taking ill, forbade him from sending for a doctor, and kept to her bed to rest, though she never appeared particularly well rested.

  “Eloise…” he murmured, seeing how weak she looked as she struggled to sit in the nearest chair.

  She glared, which was the liveliest she had seemed in some time. “I will not crumble, nephew. I may not be strong, but I will not be pitied.”

  He held his hands up in a show of surrender, then rested his elbows on the desk surface, exhaling slowly.

  “Have you heard anything?” Eloise asked in a much softer voice.

  Graham shook his head. “Not in days.” He rubbed his hands over his face, groaning low. “Every other man in this operation has a task to perform. Why should I be the one designated to wait?”

  “Because you feel the most.”

  He moved his hands just enough to look at her with a frown. “Shouldn’t that give me leave to do the most?”

  Eloise lifted a dainty shoulder, folding her shawl tightly about her. “I don’t know. But I would worry that you would lose your head in an attempt to save her. That you would not keep yourself calm and might behave recklessly. Cooler heads must prevail.”

  He glared at his aunt. “Cooler heads don’t love Edith as I do.”

  “And I am pleased to hear you admit that you love her,” Eloise shot back without hesitation. “But you mean to tell me that Aubrey, Lord Ingram, does not have some love for Edith? Or Captain Sterling? Henshaw has no love for her?”

  Graham stiffened in his seat. “I did not say I was the only one to love her,” he insisted quietly. “Only that they do not love her the same.”

  Eloise tilted her head. “Do they need to?”

  The answer to the question was clearly in the negative, but Graham could not bring himself to admit it.

  “Lieutenant Henshaw would go to the ends of the earth for Edith,” Eloise reminded him. “Mr. Andrews would bring down the wrath of hell. Mr. Vale, as I understand it, would do worse. These are not men standing idly by and waiting for the right time to summon you, Gray. I know you are at your wits’ end, wanting something to do to help sweet Edith. But trust that others are doing things and that solutions will come.”

  Graham eyed his aunt with some admiration, remembering, belatedly, that she had more energy than her appearance suggested.

  “Thank you, Eloise,” he murmured with a smile.

  She inclined her head in an almost regal fashion that reminded him of Miranda Sterling. “You are not the only one being driven to distraction, you know.”

  “Am I not?” he queried with a quirk of a brow.

  “You don’t think Molly and I would run off to save Edith if we only knew how?”

  The image was a harrowing one, and a humbling one. Why should his aunt and his niece feel anything less than the rest of them did when it came to Edith? Anyone knowing her would want to help her. He’d wager the Spinsters were beside themselves trying to find a way to help, despite what their husbands would or would not allow. Who knew how many other people would have loved to find a way to save Edith?

  Despite being almost alone here at Merrifield, Graham suddenly felt rather less alone in the grander sense.

  This had to work. Whatever they settled on, whatever was in the works, had to succeed.

  It had to.

  Footsteps in the corridor attracted the attention of them both, and the arrival of a footman with a tray brought Graham to his feet. He took the letter from the tray and broke the seal at once, his eyes scanning the words frantically.

  All is set. Come to London to begin.

  It was signed by Ingram, but it could have come from any of them and had the same effect.

  Graham grinned and crumpled the letter in one hand, giving his aunt a triumphant look.

  “Well?” she queried with a catch in her voice.

  “I’m going to London.” He chuckled in his relief. “I don’t know what we’re doing when I get there, but it sounds as if there is a plan.”

  Eloise smiled up at him and took his hand. “Go, Graham. And send us word when we may come to London.”

  Graham looked at her in surprise. “You haven’t been to London in years. Will you be well enough for the journey?”

  “For Edith,” Eloise insisted with a nod, “I will make myself well enough.”

  The whole city of London knew Edith was tainted now; there was no mistaking it.

  She could not leave the house without stares, whispers, and comments following her, not even for a walk, as she had tried the other day. Not a soul would look at her. She had gone out walking with Simms that morning, and it was as though she bore the plague.

  True to his word, Sir Reginald had his men always following her, and they had even entered the house and her rooms on occasion. Owen had vowed to protect her at all times, no matter the cost, and he rarely left her side when they were at home. He had begun to sleep in her personal sitting room now, with a gun and blade by his side. According to him, he did not care what anybody said; no one would touch her while he drew breath.

  Sir Reginald called upon her at will, but he had not yet made any advances worse than what she had already experienced. He had chosen to stay the night a time or two, staying in a guest room, and leaving in broad daylight so everyone would see. His visits would usually consist of him berating her, touching her, taking a rough kiss or two, and t
hen busying himself with drinking and eating and sleeping.

  Edith did not fight it. Did not fight him. She was without feeling anymore, resigned to her fate. She could only hope that he would tire of her soon.

  Still, she did not regret her choice. She loved Molly as if she were her own child and would have sacrificed herself to a fate far worse than this to save her. But in doing what she had, Edith effectively had distanced herself from her friends forever.

  And from Graham.

  There was no thought of him that was not an equal blend of the bitter with the sweet. Her dreams were filled with him, and she woke to tears every morning. What a life she might have had, if only things had been different!

  But there was no use in wishing such things. She could cling to memories, but not live in them.

  She was on her own now.

  A pounding on the door brought her from her thoughts, her heart leaping anxiously into her throat. She rose quickly and flattened herself against the wall while Owen, armed as he usually was now, moved to the door.

  “Ye muckle gomeral, dinnae point tha’ thing so near my face.”

  Edith gasped, her eyes widening at the blessed sound of the one person she knew was not permitted to cross the threshold.

  “Dinnae tempt me, an’ ye willna have aught to worry aboot,” Owen growled, though the tone was without any threat at all. “An’ what in the Devil’s purple arse is tha’?”

  “If it was fer ye, I’d explain. As it is…” Strong footsteps clomped in the corridor, and then Lachlan was before her in the parlor, expression serious, his frame thinner than when she had seen him last.

  “Lachlan,” Edith gasped, still flat against the wall in shock.

  Lachlan eyed her for a second, his shoulders dropping on an exhale. “Edie.” He whistled sharply then, and another sound in the corridor met her ears.

  A great, brown bloodhound sauntered into the room, his ears drooping as much as his face. He glanced at Edith blearily, then came to her and dropped himself at her feet.

  “Rufus?” Edith stared at the animal in shock, recognizing him from occasional visits with the Spinsters to Miranda Sterling’s home. Then she looked back at her brother. “What the devil?”

  Silently, her brother handed over a note, and Edith opened it quickly.

  Dearest girl, I cannot be with you during this terrible ordeal, but I can send my sweet boy to you for companionship, comfort, and protection. Know that my heart and prayers come with him. Do not lose hope.

  It was signed by Miranda Sterling. Edith stared at the name, sniffing back sudden tears.

  They hadn’t forgotten her.

  Of course, they wouldn’t, but absolute seclusion could play the very worst tricks on a mind.

  Edith stooped and scratched Rufus behind his ears, murmuring softly in Gaelic until the dog seemed to sigh deeply. She grinned, then stood and faced her brother.

  “So. You’ve met Miranda.”

  Lachlan raised a bushy brow. “I’ve met so many people in the last weeks, I can barely remember my own name.”

  “And how did they take you?” she asked. “Well?”

  “Well enough. I’m no saint, but I’m no’ the devil.” He smiled at last and almost looked himself. “But what about ye, Edith? I have heard all sorts of things about you. A mistress to Sir Reginald? At his beck and call? His devoted slave for all eternity?”

  She shuddered and looked away. “Only partially correct. I am no’ his mistress in truth, and I am no’ a devoted slave. But I am a slave of sorts, and I am at his beck and call.”

  “I ken. And it is why I am here.”

  “Why are you here?” she repeated, entirely confused. “What in the world have ye to do with any of it? Ye are hardly in a position to change my reputation for the better.”

  He shrugged once. “Who says I am going to?”

  Edith sighed in irritation, not caring for the mysterious tone in his voice. “Why are ye here?”

  “Other than delivering the mongrel?” He gave her a rather serious look. “Did ye really think I was going to let my sister endure such a man and such behaviors without doing something? I may be a drunk and a cad and a wastrel, but nobody abuses my family.”

  Edith folded her arms. “Except fer yerself.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Ye know what I mean. Ye need help, and I am here to help.”

  She tilted her head, now very curious. “How did ye know that I need help?”

  He smiled knowingly. “I hear things. And Owen sent for me, besides.”

  Edith glared at Owen, who met her gaze without shame. “Where are ye staying?” she asked, returning her gaze to Lachlan.

  He looked rather smug. “Right here with ye. Back together under the same roof, Edie.”

  She gaped, then her mind frantically scrambled. “No. No, you canna. He has forbidden ye from being anywhere near me. He thinks ye are my Scottish lover, and all of London is talking about it.”

  Lachlan grinned broadly. “I always wanted to be notorious.”

  “It isna funny!” she told him. “He says he will have ye thrashed and beaten.”

  Now he looked nearly offended. “And ye think he can?”

  Edith snorted. “Of course no’. I know verra well ye could take him and his lackeys at one time while three sheets to the wind under the influence of Uncle Robert’s home brew, and almost kill them in the process.”

  “Almost?” he screeched, truly offended now.

  She gave him a look. “Uncle Robert’s brew? Aye, almost kill them.”

  He considered that, then nodded. “Aye, tha’s probably true. At any rate, I dinnae care what he says or threatens. I’m staying. No one comes near ye.”

  “He will be furious,” she warned him.

  “Good.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “And now, my dear Edie, we have somewhere to be.”

  Edith rolled her eyes. “Have ye been listening? He has forbidden me from going anywhere, apart from a short walk.”

  Lachlan gave her a despairing look. “Edie, you really must learn to break rules on occasion. There can be such fun in rebellion.”

  Without another word, he and Owen snuck Edith, who had donned a dark, hooded cloak, out of the house through the back door. They marched her down the street, via almost abandoned paths, to a church not far from the house.

  She looked up at the façade, then at her brother in bewilderment. “Have ye turned yerself to God, Lachlan?”

  He ignored her and pushed open a door, looking behind them as he ushered her in.

  The chapel was perhaps half full, and Edith saw some of Society’s best, including her friends, all at the front.

  She gasped, covering her mouth as Lachlan ushered her into a pew in the back, blocking the escape she was desperate for.

  Some of the guests observed them and left no question about their feelings on the matter.

  Lachlan sat next to Edith while Owen stood behind them, almost at attention.

  “What are we doing here?” she hissed. “No one wants me here; no one will look at me. Are ye trying to embarrass me more than I already am?”

  “No,” he said softly. “I am teaching ye to rise above their pettiness. And ye’re wrong. Someone does want ye here. Someone who has been trying to write to ye for ages, and the letters were intercepted. But we found a way.”

  “We?” Edith asked quietly.

  The doors behind them opened then, and an organ started to play. Through the doors appeared Amelia on an older man’s arm, dressed in a pale yellow gown with a gorgeous veil.

  Edith put a hand to her mouth and looked up at the front of the church, where Mr. Andrews now stood, smiling as broadly as anything. She glanced back at Amelia, and their eyes met.

  Her smile was glorious as she reached out a hand to her and whispered, “I am so happy to see you, Edith.”

  Edith couldn’t say a word, she was so overcome with emotion and tears. There was no helping them as they streamed down her cheeks.
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  Amelia and her father continued down the aisle, and Lachlan put his arm around Edith, pulling her tight as she cried.

  They had not forgotten her. They had not abandoned her.

  “Tapadh leat,” she murmured to Lachlan as he ran a soothing hand along her back.

  “Ye dinnae have to submit to him, Edie,” he replied. “Ye can resist. It’s no’ over yet.”

  Edith frowned in confusion. “What do ye mean?”

  Lachlan shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

  The ceremony was beautiful, and Edith only took a brief moment to hug and congratulate the bride and groom at its conclusion.

  Amelia squeezed her hands tightly.

  “Keep hoping, Edith,” she urged, Andrews nodding his agreement beside her.

  “I will try,” she assured them both, managing a small smile.

  Lachlan and Owen ushered her out of the church and returned her home without any fuss, but Edith did not doubt that word would reach Sir Reginald soon enough.

  Had Graham been at the wedding? Her heart seized at the thought, but she did not know if she could bear to see him. She could not bring herself to ask if Lachlan had seen him or if he had tried to write.

  She didn’t want to know. Not when she ached this way, not when she was so bound up in Sir Reginald’s demands.

  But perhaps, with Lachlan’s help and encouragement, she could learn to resist. She could have no better instructor in resistance and rebellion, and now she knew she was not alone.

  Now, perhaps, she could fight.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A little creativity can change a great deal if one is bold enough to be creative in the face of convention.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 10 May 1815

  “Lachlan! Lachlan, stop running about the house with Rufus!”

  There was no response but that of the dog bellowing as he thundered down the corridor above her, a much larger, heavier tread accompanying it. Then, she heard a taunting howl that had clearly not come from the canine, which prodded the actual canine to howl, as well.