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‘Heart of Honor sweeps the reader away on a tidal wave of emotion, bittersweet, poignant romance and a tantalising primal sexuality that are the inimitable trademarks of multi-talented author Kat Martin.’

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Reese’s Bride
Kat Martin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To my friends in Bakersfield.

Thanks for the great memories.

One

England September, 1855

The crisp black taffeta skirt of her mourning gown rustled as she walked out of the dress shop a few doors in front of him.

Reese Dewar froze where he stood, the silver-headed cane in his hand forgotten, along with the ache in his leg. Rage took its place, dense and heavy, hot and seething.

Sooner or later, he had known he would see her. He had told himself it wouldn’t matter, that seeing her again wouldn’t affect him. She meant nothing to him, not anymore, not for nearly eight years.

But as she stepped off the wooden walkway, a ray of autumn sunlight gleamed against the jet-black curls on her shoulders and anger boiled up inside him, fury unlike he had known in years.

He watched her continue toward her sleek black four-horse carriage, the crossed-saber Aldridge crest glinting in gold on the side. She paused for a moment as one of the footmen hurried to open the door and he realized she wasn’t alone. A small, dark-haired boy, nearly hidden in the voluminous folds of her skirt, hurried along beside her. She urged him up the iron steps and the child disappeared inside the elegant coach.

Instead of climbing the stairs herself, the woman turned and looked at him over her shoulder, her gray eyes finding him with unerring accuracy, as if she could feel his cold stare stabbing into the back of her neck. She gasped when she realized who it was, though she must have known, in a village as small as Swansdowne, one day their paths would cross.

Surely she had heard the gossip, heard of his return to Briarwood, the estate he had inherited from his maternal grandfather.

The estate he had meant to share with her.

Their eyes locked, hers troubled, filled with some emotion he could not read. His own gaze held the bitterness and anger he made no effort to hide. He loathed her for what she had done, hated her with every ounce of his being.

It shocked him.

He had thought those feelings long past. For most of the last eight years, he had been away from England, a major in the British cavalry. He had fought in foreign wars, commanded men, sent some of them to their deaths. He had been wounded and nearly died himself.

He was home now, his injured leg making him no longer fit to serve. That and the vow he had made to his dying father. One day he would come back to Briarwood. He would make the estate his home as he had once intended.

Reese would rather have stayed in the army. He didn’t belong in the country. He wasn’t sure where he belonged anymore and he loathed his feelings of uncertainty nearly as much as he loathed Elizabeth.

She swallowed, seemed to sway a little on her feet as she turned away, climbed the steps and settled herself inside the carriage. She hadn’t changed. With her raven hair, fine pale features, and petite, voluptuous figure, Elizabeth Clemens Holloway, Countess of Aldridge, was as beautiful at six-and-twenty as she had been at eighteen.

As she had been when she had declared her love and accepted his proposal of marriage.

His gaze followed the coach as it rolled off toward Aldridge Park, the palatial estate that had belonged to her late husband, Edmund Holloway, Earl of Aldridge. Aldridge had died last year at the age of thirty-three, leaving his wife a widow, leaving her with a son.

Reese spat into the dirt at his feet. Just the thought of Aldridge in Elizabeth’s bed made him sick to his stomach.

Five years his senior, Edmund was already an earl when he had competed with Reese for Elizabeth’s affections. She had been amused by the attentions of the handsome, sophisticated aristocrat, but she had been in love with Reese.

Or so she had said.

The carriage disappeared round a bend in the road and Reese’s racing pulse began to slow. He was amazed at the enmity he still felt toward her. He was a man who had taught himself control and that control rarely abandoned him. He would not allow it to happen again.

Leaning heavily on his cane, the ache in his leg beginning to reach through the fury that had momentarily consumed him, he made his way to his own conveyance and slowly climbed aboard. Aldridge’s widow and her son had no place in his life. Elizabeth was dead to him and had been for nearly eight years.

As dead as her husband, the man she had betrayed Reese to marry.

And he would never forgive her.

Elizabeth leaned against the tufted red velvet seat of her carriage. Her heart was hammering, battering against the wall of her chest. Dear God, Reese.

She had known she would see him. She had prayed it would happen at some distant time in the future. Sometime after she had come to grips with the fact that he was living in the house they had once meant to share.

Dear God, Reese. There was a day she thought never to see him again. Rumors had surfaced. Reese, a major in the cavalry, was missing in action somewhere in the Crimea. There were whispers he was dead. Then he had returned and the news had swept the countryside.

He was back at Briarwood, wounded in the war and retired from the army. He was home, living just a few miles from Aldridge Park. She should have been prepared and yet seeing him today … seeing the hatred in his brilliant blue eyes, made her chest squeeze with guilt and regret.

She knew how much he hated her. If she hadn’t already been certain, she would have seen it in his icy stare today. Every pore in his sun-bronzed face exuded loathing. Every angry thought seemed to reach her across the distance between them. She hadn’t seen him since that day nearly eight years ago that he had come home on leave and discovered she had wed another man.

Not since the day he had called her a whore and vowed that one day she would pay for her lies and deceit.

She had paid. Dear God, she had paid every day since she had married Edmund Holloway. She had done as her father demanded and wed a man not of her choosing.

But she had never stopped loving Reese.

Her heart squeezed. She thought of his hard, handsome features, so masculine, so incredibly attractive. In some ways, he looked the same as he had as a young man of twenty, tall and black-haired, his body hard-muscled and lean, his features sharply defined.

And yet he was a completely different man. He had been a little shy in his courtship of her, a little uncertain. Now he wore his masculinity like a comfortable shirt; it was clear in his unwavering stare, the way his gaze too boldly assessed her. There was a harshness in his features that hadn’t been there when he was young, and a confidence and raw sense of authority that only made him more attractive.

“Mama …?”

Jared’s small voice reached her from across the carriage. “Yes, sweetheart?” A headache had begun to form behind her eyes and she rubbed her temple against the pain.

“Who was that man?” Her son sat quietly on the opposite seat, his voice little more than a whisper. He wouldn’t be talking at all, she knew, if he hadn’t sensed her distress.

She forced herself to smile and patted the seat beside her. Jared scooted next to her and she settled an arm around his small shoulders.

“Major Dewar is an old friend, sweetheart.” A complete and utter falsehood. The man loathed her and she didn’t blame him. “He just got out of the army and he is returned to his home.”

Jared just looked at her. He didn’t ask more, simply gazed at her with his deep-set brown eyes, soulful eyes, she thought. Eyes far too worldly for a child so young, and far too full of loneliness.

Managing a smile, she began to point out the sights along the road as the carriage moved down the lane that cut through the rolling fields. It was mid-September, the leaves turning orange, gold and red. Two small boys played along the roadside tossing a ball back and forth, and Elizabeth pointed them out to Jared.

“Doesn’t that look like fun? You like to play ball. Perhaps one of Mrs. Clausen’s sons will play with you this afternoon.” Mrs. Clausen was the housekeeper, a dear woman raising her daughter’s orphaned grandsons, boys eight and nine years old. They liked Jared, but because of his shyness, rarely sought him out. “Why don’t you ask them when we get home?”

Jared said nothing, but his gaze remained on the boys and the look in his eyes made a lump rise in her throat. As long as he remained at Aldridge Park, Jared would never come out of the shell he had built to protect himself. It was one more reason she had to leave.

Not leave, Elizabeth silently corrected. Escape.

As long as her brother-in-law and his wife, Mason and Frances Holloway, lived at Aldridge Park, she was a prisoner in her own home.

Her headache continued to worsen, pounding away inside her skull as it often did these days. She was afraid of Mason. He was the sort of man who stood a little too close, touched her a little too often. She needed to leave, but she was certain he would simply come after her. She had no idea how far he would go to keep her and Jared—now the Earl of Aldridge—under his control. But she was certain there was little he would not do.

She was frightened. Not only for herself but for her son.

An image arose of Reese Dewar, strong, capable, a veteran of the war, the sort of man who would protect his family no matter the cost.

But Reese wasn’t her husband and never would be.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

Reese returned to Briarwood, his mood dark and brooding. He tried not to think of Elizabeth but he couldn’t seem to get her out of his head. What was there about her? How had she managed to keep a stranglehold over him for so many years? Why had no other woman been able to pierce the wall of his heart as she had done?

His manservant, Timothy Daniels, a brawny young corporal who had served with him for several years before being injured and sent home, arrived in the study just then.

“You are returned,” Daniels said. “Is there anything you need, sir?” Tim had been out of work and hungry when he had appeared at Reese’s door. In a few short weeks, he had become dedicated to Reese’s welfare. With this damnable leg slowing him down, Reese was glad to have a man he could count on.

“I’m fine, Tim.”

“Let me know if you need me.”

Reese scowled. “I imagine I can survive a few hours studying these bloody damned ledgers.” Though in truth, he hated paperwork and would far rather be out of doors, which Timothy, being a military man, seemed to understand.

“Aye, sir. Like I said—”

“That will be all, corporal.” Growing tired of the young man’s overprotectiveness, Reese snapped out the words in his firmest military voice.

“Aye, sir.” The door closed quietly, leaving Reese alone in the wood-paneled room. The study was his sanctuary, a comfortable chamber lined with books, a warm, inviting, masculine place where a fire blazed in the hearth and he could insulate himself from the memories that crept into other parts of the house.

In the days of their courtship, Elizabeth had been to Briarwood more than once. She loved the ivy that covered the white plaster walls of the manor and hung from the porch outside the front door, she had said. She loved the steep slate roof with its whimsical chimney pots that made the house look like a fairy tale dwelling.

She had made plans to paint the drawing room a pale shade of rose and add lace curtains, to hang flowered silk wallpaper behind the sofa. She loved the master’s suite, she told him, loved how sunny it was, the way it looked out over the garden. She couldn’t wait to share his big four-poster bed, a gift his grandfather had commissioned for his bride-to-be.

That thought led to one he didn’t wish to recall and his loins began to fill. Bloody hell. All these years and seeing her once made him want her again. He forced himself to remember the way she had told him how much she loved him and how happy she would be to live at Briarwood as his wife.

Lies. All of them.

Just weeks after he had left for his assignment in London, she had broken her promise to marry him. Instead she had wed an earl, a man of untold wealth, and abandoned the younger son of a duke, a man who could provide a pleasant home and sufficient income but would never be extravagantly rich.

Reese ground his jaw. Since his return, thoughts of Elizabeth had begun to haunt him, memories he had buried years ago. Two days after he had discovered the news of her marriage, he had left Wiltshire County for good, gone back to London and asked to serve in the cavalry, knowing he would be assigned to duty somewhere far from English shores.

If he hadn’t been wounded, if he hadn’t promised his father, he would be there still.

His hand fisted on the top of the desk. Reese dragged in a deep breath and forced his mind back to the present. The ledgers sat open in front of him. He forced himself to concentrate and began to skim the pages. He would have to conquer his painful past and concentrate on the future if he meant to fulfill his obligations and make the fallow fields of Briarwood productive again.

Reese intended to see it done.

With her young son, Jared, walking close beside her, Elizabeth entered the magnificent entry of the huge Georgian mansion, Aldridge Park, her late husband’s country estate. The property and all others entailed to the earldom, along with Edmund’s vast fortune, now belonged to Jared, the recently titled seventh Earl of Aldridge.

The sound of footsteps echoing on the black-and-white marble floor drew her attention and Elizabeth looked up to see her sister-in-law, Frances Holloway, also dressed in black, float into the entry to greet them.

Frances’s lips flattened out in disapproval. “I expected you home hours ago. Where have you been?” She was a thin woman, with high cheekbones and a long, narrow nose. Her greatest asset was her strength of will. Frances managed to turn things to suit her purpose no matter how difficult they might be, probably the reason her husband, Mason, had married her.

“I told you Jared and I were going into the village.” Elizabeth had given up any attempt at being civil to Frances some months back. The woman disliked her and had since the day she had delivered Edmund a son, making it impossible for Mason to inherit the title. “I had some shopping to do. It took longer than I expected.” And lately she hadn’t been feeling quite well. It felt good to be out in the fresh air, out of the house.

But that, like the length of time she had spent, was none of Frances’s business.

“Jared’s tutor has been looking for him. We don’t want him getting behind in his lessons.”

Elizabeth’s arm went protectively around her small son’s shoulders. “He’s going outside to play for a while. Then he can do his lessons.”

Jared looked up at her, his eyes big and dark. “I’ll do them now, Mama. Marcus and Benny prob’ly won’t want to play with me, anyway.”

“But—”

Frances swept in like a tall black raven and scooped Jared off toward the stairs. Elizabeth wanted to tell her little boys needed to do more than just study, but her head was pounding and she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts in order. And her son was already climbing the sweeping staircase, Frances right beside him. She watched them ascend a second set of stairs and disappear into the schoolroom.

“So you’re home.” Mason Holloway’s voice snaked across the entry and Elizabeth turned. “I hope you enjoyed your shopping.”

Just a year younger than Edmund, Mason was a tall, formidable man, heavy through the chest and shoulders, with brown hair and a thick mustache. Not unattractive and yet there was a coarseness about him, and a tone of false sincerity that made her distrust him. A little shiver crept down her spine as his eyes ran over the swell of her breasts and unconsciously she took a step back.

“All in all, it was quite a pleasant outing,” she replied, forcing herself to smile. “A lovely little dress shop just opened. Mrs. O’Neal has some very fine fabrics.”

“You should have told me you wished to go. I would have given you an escort.”

Having Mason anywhere near her was the last thing she wanted. She had suffered Edmund’s company far too long, and her brother-in-law was even more loathsome. Mason Holloway had squandered every dollar he had inherited. He would have been destitute had Edmund not provided for him.

But her husband was nothing if not loyal. In his will, he had left Mason and Frances a life estate on their rooms in the east wing of the mansion, as well as permission to stay in his town house in London. Mason and Frances were there, whether she liked it or not, and there was no way to get rid of them.

“I appreciate the offer,” she told Mason, “but I had Jared to keep me company.”

He scoffed. “Jared is only a boy. A woman of your position shouldn’t be traveling alone.”

She hoisted her chin, but the motion made her dizzy. She reached out to catch hold of the stair rail, hoping Mason wouldn’t notice. “I was scarcely alone. I had a coachman and a pair of footmen with me.”

“That may be true, but next time, I shall accompany you.”

Not if she could prevent it, but Mason was a difficult man to oppose and lately she couldn’t seem to find the will to fight him. She had begun to feel unwell some weeks back, suffering from headaches and nausea and an occasional bout of dizziness.

It was part of the reason she hadn’t moved into Holiday House, the mansion on the outskirts of London she had inherited from her father, along with the rest of the fortune he had provided for her. She had wanted to leave but she was uncertain of her health and sure her in-laws would follow. If she tossed them out, she and Jared would suffer the scandal.

Still, a scandal was better than what might happen if she stayed.

As she stared at Mason, the suspicion that had begun to build over the past few months expanded inside her. If she was out of the way, Mason and Frances would become Jared’s guardians. They would control the vast Aldridge fortune.

The thought of her young son left alone and vulnerable and growing even more withdrawn made her stomach roll with nausea. She was all that stood between Jared and the ruthless people who cared nothing for him and only wanted his money.

Sooner or later, she had to do something.

Her headache worsened, pounded viciously against her skull, and again the dizziness struck. “I am afraid you will have to excuse me. I discover I am not feeling all that well.”

Beneath his mustache, a sympathetic smile curved Mason’s lips. “Perhaps a nap will help.”

Turning away from him, she started up the staircase, but Mason caught up easily and fell in beside her, taking her arm to guide her toward the landing.

“I hope you’re feeling better by supper,” he said as they reached the door to her suite.

“I’m certain I will be.” But she wasn’t sure at all.

Fear for her son returned. As soon as she felt better, she would make plans to leave. She closed the door and prayed she could see it done.

Two

Jared sat in a carved, high-back chair at the head of the long, polished mahogany table in the state dining room. Elizabeth sat to his right in one of the other twenty-six chairs, Mason and Frances to his left. Tall candles burned in the huge, gaslit, crystal chandelier hanging above the table, and the gold-rimmed plates were of finest Sevres porcelain.

It was too formal a setting for a shy little boy like Jared. But Frances had insisted, since it was his seventh birthday, and the issue didn’t seem important enough to Elizabeth to suffer an argument.

The meal was as lavish as the setting: a rich vermicelli soup, roasted partridge with pecan stuffing, lobster in cream sauce, an array of vegetables and fresh baked breads. Dessert was an assortment of cakes and tarts and a fancy custard in the shape of a swan.

It should have been a horse, Elizabeth thought. Jared had always loved horses.

“All right, boy. Time to open your presents.” Mason snapped his fingers at the pair of footmen who stood along the wall. They rushed forward, gifts in hand, and set them on the table in front of her son.

Jared looked at the gifts and beamed at Elizabeth. “They’re all so beautiful, Mama.” It was like her son to appreciate the packages as much as the gifts inside. A lovely silver-wrapped box with a huge blue satin bow sat on top of a larger gift covered in bright red velvet-flocked paper decorated with a red feathered bird. Her own gift was the smallest, but beautifully wrapped in dark brown silk with a simple gold ribbon.

“Which one should I open first?” he asked, looking up at her.

“How about this one?” Mason shoved the red velvet package in front of him, the crimson stuffed bird jiggling with the motion.

Jared pulled the bird off the top and smoothed a hand over its feathers. “I wish it still could fly.”

He was a gentle-natured child. He loved animals of any sort, even stuffed ones.

“Open your gift, boy.” Mason pushed the box even closer and as Jared reached for it, nearly knocked it off the table.

The smile died on his lips. “I’m … I’m sorry, Uncle Mason.”

“It’s all right, boy. Here, let me help you.”

Elizabeth gritted her teeth as Mason pulled the box to his side of the table and ripped off the red flocked paper. He tore open the box then shoved it back to Jared and she saw that it was filled with an army of miniature soldiers.

Each wooden soldier was intricately carved and beautifully painted, half the army wearing the red-and-white uniforms of the British, Napoleon’s blue-coated soldiers forming the opposing force. They were the sort of thing a little boy would love and Jared’s brown eyes gleamed with appreciation.

Elizabeth shivered. All she could think of Reese and how the army had torn them apart. A memory arose of him striding unannounced into the entry of Aldridge Park dressed in his scarlet uniform, so handsome her heart hurt just to look at him. He had discovered her betrayal and her hasty marriage to the earl. He had called her a liar and a whore and left her standing there shaking, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

Elizabeth shook herself, forcing away the image. Her head was beginning to throb and her mouth felt dry. She watched Jared open the second gift, a woolen jacket that Frances had bought him. He thanked her very properly and reached for the last of his gifts.

He looked up at her and smiled, knowing the gift was from her.

“I hope you like it,” Elizabeth said. She was feeling terribly weary. She hoped it didn’t show.

Jared carefully untied the gold ribbon, gently eased off the brown silk wrapping and set it aside, then lifted the lid off the box. Inside on a bed of tissue rested a small silver unicorn. It stood five inches high, its thick neck bowed, its powerful front legs dancing in the air.

Jared reached into the box, carefully removed the horse and held it up with reverence.

“A unicorn,” he said, his small fingers skimming over the shining horse that gleamed in the light of the candalabra in the center of the table. “He’s wonderful, Mama.”

Jared had a collection of four other unicorns. He loved horses of every shape and size and especially the mystical creature with the magic horn in the middle of its forehead. “I’m going to name him Beauty.”

Mason carefully wiped his mustache with his napkin and shoved back his chair. He had little patience with children and that patience was clearly at an end. “It’s getting late. Now that your birthday is over for another year, it is past time you went to bed.”

Anger penetrated her lethargy and the pounding that had started in her head.

Elizabeth came to her feet. “Jared is my son, not yours. I will be the one to tell him when it’s time for bed.” She felt a tug on the skirt of her blue silk dinner gown. Her head was spinning. She hadn’t realized Jared had gotten up from his chair.

“It’s all right, Mama. Mrs. Garvey will be waiting for me.” Mrs. Garvey was his nanny, a kind, gray-haired woman whose own children were grown.

Elizabeth knelt and pulled her son into her arms. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. I’ll have the footmen bring your gifts up to your room.” She smoothed back an errant lock of his thick dark hair. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jared looked over at Mason, caught his scowl, and eased out of her embrace. “Good night, Mama.”

Elizabeth’s heart squeezed. “Good night, sweetheart.”

Clutching the silver unicorn against his small chest, Jared turned and raced out of the dining room.

An hour later, Elizabeth sat on the tapestry stool in front of the mirror above her dressing table. It was late. Most of the household was abed. She had napped before supper and yet still felt tired. Lately she couldn’t seem to get enough sleep.

She yawned behind her hand, wondering if she had the energy to read, when the doorknob turned, the door swung silently open, and Mason Holloway walked into her bedroom.

Elizabeth shot up from the stool. She was wearing only a white cotton nightgown, hardly proper attire to receive male visitors.

“What are you doing in here?” She reached for the quilted wrapper lying on the bureau, but Mason picked it up before she could reach it.

“I saw the light under your door. I thought you might be in the mood for company.”

“What … what are you talking about? It’s late, Mason. Your wife will be wondering where you are.”

“My wife has no say in where I spend my evenings.” Instead of leaving, he tossed the robe aside and walked behind her, settled his big hands on her shoulders and began a crude massage.

Elizabeth’s stomach tightened with revulsion. She knocked his hands away and whirled to face him, the movement making her dizzy, and she swayed a little on her feet.

Mason caught her arm to steady her. “Still feeling poorly?”

Elizabeth managed to pull free. “Get out,” she said, but her head was pounding and the words came out with little force.

Mason leaned toward her, bent his head and pressed his mouth against the side of her neck. His mustache brushed against her skin and her stomach rolled with nausea.

“You don’t want me to leave,” he said, his voice husky. “You need me, Elizabeth. You need what I can give you.”

Her stomach churned. “I’ll scream. If you don’t leave this minute, I swear I shall scream the house down.”

Mason laughed softly. In the light of the lamp on the bedside table, his eyes glinted with sexual heat. “Perhaps the time is not yet right. Soon though. Soon I’ll come and you will welcome me, Elizabeth. You won’t have any other choice.”

You won’t have any other choice. Dear God, the words rang with a certainty that made the hair rise at the back of her neck. “Get out!”

Mason just smiled. “Sleep well, my dear. I shall see you in the morning.”

Elizabeth stood frozen as he left the bedroom and quietly closed the door. Her head throbbed and the dizziness had returned. Sinking back down on the stool, she fought to steady herself and clear her head. She thought of Jared and the danger he was in and her eyes filled with tears.

She wasn’t safe in the house anymore and neither was her son. The time had come. She had to leave.

Ignoring the pounding in her skull, summoning her strength, as well as a shot of courage, she rose from the stool and hurried toward the bellpull to ring for Sophie, her ladies’ maid. A search beneath the bed made her nauseous, but yielded a heavy leather satchel she hefted up on the feather mattress.

A sleepy-eyed Sophie, dark hair sticking out all over her head, walked into the bedroom yawning. “You rang for me, my lady?”

“I need your help, Sophie. I’m leaving.”

The girl’s green eyes widened. “Now? It’s the middle of the night, my lady.”

“I need you to go upstairs and wake Mrs. Garvey. Tell her to get dressed. Tell her we are leaving straightaway and she needs to pack a bag for herself and one for Jared. Tell her to meet me downstairs at the door leading out to the carriage house.”

Beginning to pick up on Elizabeth’s urgency, Sophie straightened. “As you wish, my lady.”

“As soon as you’ve finished, go out to the stable and tell Mr. Hobbs to ready my carriage—the small one. Tell him not to come round front. Tell him I’ll come to him where he is.”

Sophie whirled to leave.

“And don’t tell anyone else I’m going.”

The little maid understood. Though she had never said so, she didn’t like Mason Holloway, either. She bobbed a curtsey and rushed out the door.

Ignoring a wave of dizziness, Elizabeth returned to her packing. By the time Sophie returned, she was dressed in a simple black woolen gown, her hair pulled into a tight chignon at the back of her neck, a crisp black bonnet tied beneath her chin.

“I need help with the last of the buttons,” she said to her maid, turning her back so that Sophie could do them up. As soon as the task was completed, Elizabeth grabbed her black wool cloak off the hook beside the door and whirled it round her shoulders. She swayed a little with the effort.

Sophie rushed forward, alarmed. “My lady!”

“I’m all right. Just promise you will keep silent until morning.”

“Of course. You can trust me, my lady. Please be careful.”

Elizabeth smiled, grateful for the young girl’s loyalty. “I’ll be careful.”

Heading down the servants’ stairs, satchel in hand, it didn’t take long to reach the door leading out to the stable. Holding two small bags, Mrs. Garvey stood next to Jared, who looked up at Elizabeth with big, worried brown eyes.

“Where are we going, Mama?”

Until that very moment, she hadn’t been completely certain. Now she looked at her son, felt a rush of dizziness, and knew what she had to do.

“To see an old friend,” she said, and dear God, she prayed that somewhere in the darkest part of his heart, he would find that in some small measure, it was still true.

Three

Reese awakened from sleep to a banging at his door. Frowning, he swung his legs to the side of the high four-poster bed and shoved himself to his feet. The pounding started again as he dragged on his dark blue silk dressing gown.

Grumbling, he grabbed his cane, crossed the bedroom and jerked open the door to find Timothy Daniels standing in the hallway.

“For God’s sake, man, what is it? Keep that up and you’ll wake the whole house.”

Timothy’s flaming red hair glinted in the light of the whale oil lamp he held in his hand. “It’s an emergency, sir. There’s a woman. She’s downstairs, sir. She says she needs to speak to you. She says the matter is urgent.”

“It is well past midnight. Why the devil would a woman wish to see me at this bloody hour of the night?”

“Can’t say, sir. But she’s here with her son and she seems overly distressed.”

Apprehension trickled down his spine. He had seen Elizabeth and her son two days ago. Surely this had nothing to do with her. Then again, he had never been a man who believed in coincidence. “Tell her I’ll be down as soon as I can put on some clothes.”

“Aye, sir.”

Timothy disappeared and Reese made his way over to the wardrobe. Unconsciously rubbing his leg, he jerked out a pair of black trousers and a white lawn shirt, sat down and pulled them on. As he tucked in his shirt, pain shot down his leg. Since he’d taken a chunk of grapeshot at Inkerman, it was stiff, but not completely. Once he began to walk on it, it usually loosened up. At this hour the blasted thing felt like a lead rod connected to his body.

Reese ignored it. As soon as he was dressed, he headed downstairs, wondering what sort of problem awaited him at this hour of the night.

Leaning on his cane, he took the stairs as fast as he could, reached the bottom, and looked up to find his tall, skinny, very dignified butler standing next to a woman dressed in black.

Time seemed to slow. He knew those finely etched features, the pale skin and raven-black hair, the perfectly shaped eyebrows and lips the color of roses. Images assailed him. Elizabeth in the garden of her home, laughing as she raced him to the gazebo. Elizabeth in his arms as they whirled around the ballroom. Elizabeth out on the terrace, her fingers sliding through his hair, her mouth soft and welcoming under his.

He straightened, met her gaze squarely. “You are not welcome here.”

She was trembling, he saw as she walked toward him, her movements as graceful and feminine as he recalled, a small woman, though she had never seemed so. “I must speak to you, my lord. It is urgent.”

He wasn’t used to the title. Major suited him far more, and it jarred him a little. He might have told her he had no time for a woman of such low character as she, but then he saw that she wasn’t alone. A gray-haired woman stood in the shadows next to the boy he had seen in the village, the boy who was Elizabeth’s son.

“Please, my lord.”

“This way.” He moved off toward the drawing room, limping only a little, hoping his harsh tone of voice would compel her to turn and leave. He walked into the drawing room and waited as Elizabeth moved past him, her full black skirts brushing against his legs. He closed the sliding door, making them private, but didn’t offer her a seat nor take one himself.

“It’s the middle of the night. What is it you want?”

She lifted her chin and he noticed her complexion was far paler than it should have been. She was fighting for composure and the realization filled him with satisfaction.

“I—I know you what you think of me. I know how much you hate me.”

He laughed without mirth. “You couldn’t begin to know.”

She bit her bottom lip. It was as full and tempting as he remembered and the muscles across his abdomen contracted. Damn her. Damn her to bloody hell.

“I came here to plead for your help. My father is dead. I have no brothers or sisters, no true friends. You are a man of honor, a veteran of the war. I am here because I believe you are not the sort of man to turn away a desperate woman and her child—no matter your personal feelings.” She swayed a little and beads of perspiration appeared on her temple.

Reese frowned. “Are you unwell?”

“I … I am not certain. I have been feeling ill of late. That is part of the reason I am here. Should my condition worsen, I am concerned for what might happen to Jared.”

“Jared? That is your son’s name?”

“Yes.”

She swayed again and he started toward her, using his cane only once as he crossed to where she stood and caught her arm to steady her. He was a gentleman, no matter how difficult at times that might be. “Sit down before you fall down.”

She moved forward, sank unsteadily onto the burgundy sofa, her black silk reticule falling into her lap. She reached a trembling hand to her temple, then looked up at him with the beautiful, haunting gray eyes that invaded his dreams. The memory of a thousand sleepless nights hardened his jaw and fortified his resolve against her.

“I am not the help you need.”

“There is no one else I can turn to.”

“You’re the Countess of Aldridge. Surely there is someone.”

Her hands gripped the reticule in her lap. “I intended to go to London. I might have tried to make it tonight if I hadn’t been feeling so unwell.” She looked at him with those beseeching gray eyes. “I believe my in-laws may be doing something to my food or drink. If my condition continues to worsen, my son may be in grave danger.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re speaking of Mason and Frances Holloway?”

“Yes. I’m afraid that even should I reach London safely, my brother-in-law will arrive within days. I’m afraid he’ll find a means of forcing my return to Aldridge Park. Once I am there …” She shook her head. “I am frightened, my lord. I am here because I don’t know where else to go.”

“What do you expect from me?”

“I suppose I expect that your honor will dictate you must help me. You’re a strong man, the sort who can protect my son. I suppose I am hoping that no matter what I have done, you will not be able to turn me out of your home.”

Anger simmered just below the surface. She knew how much he valued his honor. She knew more about him than any other person in the world. He worked to calm the angry pounding of his heart.

“I am afraid, Countess, you ask too much.” Purposely, he used her title, a reminder of all that had transpired between them.

“Elizabeth …” she softly corrected. “We are too well acquainted for anything more formal.”

A hard smile surfaced. “I suppose you could say we are well acquainted. Very well acquainted, indeed.”

For an instant, a flush rose in her cheeks, erasing the pallor, but she did not glance away. “Will you help me?”

He began to shake his head. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear having her in his house, under his roof. He couldn’t stand the painful memories.

She came up from the sofa, so close he could measure the incredible length of her thick black lashes.

A black-gloved hand settled gently on his arm.

“Please, my lord. I beg you not to refuse. My son needs you. I need you. You are the only person in the world who can help us … the only person I trust.”

The words hit him hard. She trusted him. Once he had trusted her. Reese stared at the beautiful woman standing in front of him. He had loved her once. Fiercely and without reserve. Now he hated her with the same unrelenting passion.

Still, he could read her desperation, her fear. As she had said, he was a man who valued his honor. She had come to him for help. How could he turn her away?

“I’ll have Hopkins show you and your party upstairs.” A harsh smile curved his lips. “I believe you remember where to find the guest rooms.”

She glanced away but relief washed over her features. “Thank you, my lord. I swear I shall find a way to repay the great debt I owe you.”

And then she collapsed at his feet.

“Corporal Daniels!”

Elizabeth stirred as Reese lifted her into his arms. Her mind was foggy, blurred. She blinked up at him, into the hard, carved lines of his face. “I … I’m all right. You don’t have to—”

“Daniels!” he shouted again and a brawny, red-haired young man appeared beside him.

“Yes, sir?”

Reese dumped her unceremoniously into the younger man’s arms. “I can’t carry her up the stairs—not with this damnable leg.”

Corporal Daniels looked down at her and smiled. “Rest easy, ma’am. I’ll get you there in a jiff.”

She had no time to protest as the young man swept her out of the drawing room.

“Mama!” Jared rushed forward as they entered the hall and grabbed frantically onto her skirts.

“I am fine, sweetheart. Just a little dizzy, is all. Bring Mrs. Garvey and come upstairs.”

Jared turned and raced back to where the older woman stood waiting and grabbed hold of her hand. The butler led the pair a few steps behind as the corporal carted her up the stairs. He carried her into one of the guest rooms and settled her carefully on the bed.

“I’ll fetch Gilda to attend you, ma’am. She’s the chambermaid.”

She didn’t protest. She still felt light-headed though the spinning had begun to slow. She rested her head on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. It was white while the walls were a soft yellow, pretty though the room could use a fresh coat of paint. The curtains were yellow silk damask, the furniture rosewood, recently dusted but in need of a dose of lemon oil.

She was staying at Briarwood. Reese had agreed to help her. She could hardly believe it.

And yet, in her heart, she had been certain, no matter his personal feelings, he would not turn her away.

He walked into the room a few minutes later, tall and masculine, the image of authority and strength. For an instant, she caught the glint of silver on the head of his ebony cane. She knew he had been injured. She didn’t know how badly he was hurt.

Icy blue eyes fixed on her face. “You are here—at least for the moment—and you are safe. I’ll have Corporal Daniels fetch the physician—”

“There is no need for that. I just need to sleep. Perhaps tomorrow …”

“You’re certain?”

She wasn’t the least bit certain, but she had already put him to enough trouble for one night. “Yes.”

“All right, we’ll wait until the morrow.”

“Thank you.”

“In the morning I’ll expect you to tell me exactly what is going on.”

She struggled to sit up, eased back until her shoulders rested against the carved wooden headboard. Reese made no attempt to help her.

“Tomorrow my brother-in-law will discover Jared and I are missing. Sooner or later, he’ll find out where we are.”

“As I said, as long as you are here, you are safe. Get some sleep. Your Mrs. Garvey is with the boy. We’ll talk in the morning.” Turning, he left the bedroom and Elizabeth realized how rapidly her heart was beating. Dear God, until that moment, she hadn’t realized how painful it would be to hear the sound of his voice. How difficult it would be to suffer Reese’s bitter dislike of her.

She hadn’t realized the feelings she had believed so deeply buried remained just beneath the surface.

She had to guard them, keep them carefully hidden away. If she failed, if she allowed the slightest crack in her heart, the pain would simply be too awful to bear.

The light of a crisp fall day streamed into the house as Reese made his way down the hall toward the breakfast room, a sunny chamber that overlooked the garden. With its creamy yellow walls and the chairs at the table upholstered in soft moss green, it was a room he enjoyed sitting in to read his daily newspaper and eat his morning meal.

Not today.

Today his mood was grim and had been since he had awakened from a restless night of sleep. As was his habit, he had been up for several hours, working in his study for a while then going out to check on his livestock.

Besides his big black gelding, Warrior—like Reese, a veteran of the war—he had, since his return, purchased several mares and a blooded Thoroughbred stallion. With his damnable stiff leg, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to sit a saddle again, but he had been working to stretch and retrain his muscles, and even if he couldn’t ride, he refused to give up his horses.

His latest purchase, the stallion, Alexander the Great, came from prize racing stock. Reese had seen him run and he believed the horse would sire colts capable of winning at Ascot and Epson Downs.

Still making his way down the hall, a noise inside the breakfast room drew his attention. As he walked inside, he saw Elizabeth and her son seated at the table, and his chest tightened at the sight of them there in his house.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly, and continued into the sunny room. The pair were enjoying a meal of sausages, creamed herring, and eggs, though Elizabeth didn’t seem to actually be eating, just moving the food round on her plate. She looked up at him just then and the gratitude in her eyes made his chest tighten even more.

It was merely his dislike of her, he told himself, and anger than she had embroiled him in whatever turmoil her marriage to Aldridge had created.

“Jared usually eats with his nanny in the schoolroom,” she explained a bit nervously, “but since the house is new to him, I brought him downstairs to breakfast with me. I hope you don’t mind.”

He looked at the boy, whose eyes were dark and round and clearly uncertain. He perched on the edge of his chair as if he might run. A small silver horse, a unicorn, Reese saw, sat on the table in front of him.

“I don’t mind.” He turned away from the child. It was hard to look at Aldridge’s heir and not feel jealous. The boy should have been his. Elizabeth should have been his.

But money and power had been more important than the promises she had made or her declarations of love.

Then again, perhaps she had never felt the least affection for him. Perhaps it had all been pretense.

“I’m done, Mama,” the boy said. “May I be excused?”

The child had stopped eating the moment Reese had appeared in the doorway. Elizabeth seemed to sense his distress and managed to smile. She looked paler than she should have and now he noticed her eyes seemed a duller gray than they usually were, without the faint blue undertones that made them so appealing.

“You may go,” she said to the boy. “I’ll be up in a little while.” Her gaze found Reese’s across the table, a little out of focus, he thought. “Perhaps his lordship will allow us to take a walk round the grounds. The trees are lovely this time of year.”

Reese merely nodded. He didn’t intend to punish the boy for the sins his mother had committed.

The child slid down from his chair, grabbed the unicorn, and hurried out of the breakfast room. Reese walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee from the silver urn on the sideboard. He’d been hungry when he walked in. Seeing Elizabeth there, looking like the wife he had once imagined, his appetite had fled.

As a footman picked up her half-full plate and whisked it away, he pulled out a chair and sat down across from her, leaning his cane against the edge of the table.

Elizabeth was staring out the window into the garden, which was completely overgrown, the plants sprawling over their low brick enclosures into the pathways, fallen leaves covering the ground. The gardener had quit before Reese’s arrival. There hadn’t been time since his return to hire another one but he vowed he would soon see it done.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A little better. I still have a headache but it is milder this morning.”

“Explain to me again why it is that you are here.”

She lifted the porcelain teacup with a trembling hand and carefully took a sip, giving herself time to formulate an answer. She set the cup a bit unsteadily back down in its saucer.

“I know your penchant for honesty so I shall not mince words. I can’t be certain, of course, since I have no sort of proof, but I believe Mason and Frances Holloway are giving me something to purposely make me ill. My son is heir to the Aldridge fortune. Should something happen to me, his guardianship would fall into their hands. My brother-in-law and his wife are ruthless in the extreme. I believe they are after Jared’s money.”

He had never liked Edmund or his brother, Mason. Edmund was arrogant and overbearing, and Mason was worthless and greedy. It wasn’t too far a stretch to believe the younger Holloway would go after his dead brother’s fortune.

“Go on,” he said simply.

She seemed to be fighting to concentrate, though he couldn’t actually be sure. “Several months ago, I began feeling slightly unwell. It wasn’t … wasn’t much at first, just headaches and a slight dizziness once in a while. Over the past few weeks, the symptoms have worsened. My memory has become affected. Sometimes things seem hazy, somehow out of focus. I believe my brother-in-law hopes, eventually, that I shall lose all sense of reality. I think he hopes I will withdraw completely.”

She lifted the linen napkin in her lap, straightened it nervously, and spread it once more across her full black skirt. “More and more, he tries to take control. He has even begun to … to behave … in a … a manner improper to his dead brother’s wife.”

Reese tensed. “Are you saying Mason Holloway has made unwanted advances?”

She swallowed. “Yes …” The sound whispered out as if she hoped no one would hear.

Anger flashed through him. Fury at Mason Holloway.

Reese was stunned. It was impossible he could be jealous. Ridiculous after all of these years. He took a deep breath, shoving the unexpected emotions away.

Elizabeth looked up at him. “I think Mason is trying to gain control of my mind and my body and in doing so, gain control of my son and his fortune.”

He replayed the things she had told him. He had no idea how much of what she was saying was true, but the way she had fainted dead away last night made him believe it was possible.

“Assuming what you’re telling me is true, how do you believe Mason is managing all of this?”

“I don’t … I don’t know. Some sort of drug, perhaps, laced into my food. I tried not eating for a while, but I began to feel weak and since I wasn’t certain if food was the problem or if I was wrong entirely, I gave up the notion.”

“And you never saw a physician?”

She swallowed, took a sip of her tea as if it fortified her somehow. She set the cup back down on the table, moving tendrils of curly black hair, loose from the knot at the nape of her neck, against her pale cheek. Beneath the table, his body stirred to life. His groin began to fill and Reese swore a silent oath.

He needed a woman, he told himself. A single trip to Madame Lafon’s exclusive London bordello had not been enough to ease a man’s needs after so many months.