The tapping at her bedroom door roused
Aldora, Dowager Countess of Denmere, from a reverie. For a moment, she felt the strange blend of
sorrow and joy she’d felt when she’d read the letter from Ian Grey. She reached for a woolen wrapper. Moonlight shimmered around the edges of the
partially open draperies and sent a path of light to the door. She turned the knob.
Greene, the elderly butler, stood in the
hall. “My lady, the Earl has
arrived. He’s supping in the library.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you wish me to wait and go down with
you?”
She shook her head. With too few servants remaining at the manor
house, the stoop-shouldered man did more than his share of work. “There’s no need. Go to your bed.”
After he left, she lit a taper and picked
up the letter. Before leaving the room, she
read the words again. This time, she
held her tears inside. If Drew saw she’d
been weeping, he would find a way to blame himself. A habit she believed stemmed from the way his
father had heaped the coals of his own failures on Drew’s head.
Holding the candlestick high, she descended
the broad and curving staircase. The
study door was closed. She tapped
lightly.
Drew stood behind a battered desk and held
his hands toward the flames in the fireplace.
Light from candles on the mantelpiece made his hair appear as black as
lacquered ware from the Orient. His gray
jacket molded the muscles grown firm from his labor on the estates these past
two years.
She crossed the room. He turned.
His eyes, the color of fine Persian turquoise, showed concern. “Aunt Aldora, are you all right?”
The unofficial title he’d bestowed on her
years ago brought a rush of warmth and love.
She placed the candle on the desk.
“I never meant to give you fright, but I received a letter --”
“Demanding payment of yet another debt we
have no way to prove is false.” His
hands tightened on her shoulders. “Damn
him for leaving you in such a state.”
Aldora stepped away. “The letter concerns another matter.”
“And that is?”
“Sorrow and hope.”
He slumped on a chair behind the battered
desk he’d brought from the estate manager’s office. For years until it had been sold, a
magnificent oak piece had graced the room.
“Whatever do you mean?”
She opened the letter. “This is from Duncan Gordon of India Alice
“How do you know this isn’t a trick to
foist some merchant’s chit on you so they can be presented to the ton? News of your daughter’s flight were
wide-spread.”
She shook her head. “He mentions things only Alice
“And now this merchant sends his daughters
so you can bear the expense of them.
How, when we can barely feed and clothe ourselves.” He scowled.
“Why are you so cynical? My son-in-law wants his daughters away from India
Drew walked to the window that looked into
the rear courtyard of the H-shaped house.
He pulled aside the musty draperies and stared at the night sky. What else could he be but cynical? He had land he couldn’t sell, houses he
couldn’t repair, and people dependent on him he couldn’t help.
Had Duncan Gordon married Aldora’s
daughter? How could he be sure the girls
were what they said?
“Perhaps he recently learned Alice
“I don’t believe that’s the reason. With the dowries mentioned in the letters,
the girls can marry for love.”
“Love is a dream.” The words emerged clipped and cold. He’d never understood how such a vague
emotion could turn a man or a woman into a fool. He remembered the many times he’d heard his
mother cry about her love for his father.
Then her love for another man had caused her to abandon her family.
He heard the rustle of Aldora’s skirts and
inhaled the sweet smell of lavender. “He
heard of Edgar’s death. He knows about
the mountain of debts and how hard you have worked to discharge them.”
Drew turned. “Then why hasn’t he written before?”
“Before Alice
The tears that glistened in her brown eyes
brought an ache of sadness to Drew’s chest.
His questions about these girls didn’t matter. To see Aldora smile and for her to have the
comforts she deserved, he had been willing to marry an heiress. Why not this one?
He patted Aldora’s shoulder. “Would this marriage please you?”
“You know it would.”
He nodded.
“I need an heiress, and if the marriage will bring you joy --” He couldn’t say the words yet.
She brushed her hand over brown hair that
was liberally sprinkled with white. “The
directions for my son-in-law’s solicitor and business partner are in the
letter. You must write him at once.”
He felt trapped by her enthusiasm. “I’ll return to London
She laughed. “La, Drew, I doubt that rascal would want an
old woman meddling in his affairs.” She
patted his cheek. “There is much to do.” Her radiant smile warmed him. “Three granddaughters. Nicola, Elizabeth and Margaret. This is more than I dreamed.”
For an instant, her smile faltered. He knew she thought of her four daughters,
each lost in some tragic way.
“And you have me.” His need to have her confirm his importance
to her startled him. He had neither
right nor reason to feel threatened by these unknown chits.
The brilliance returned to her smile. “And you have brought me much joy.” She lifted the candlestick. “I’ll see you at breakfast. Oh, Drew, I must make ready for my girls.”
He felt a touch of regret that he hadn’t
been the one to bring laughter to her voice.
“There is time. The voyage from India
“I know I must wait, but ‘twill be
hard.” She closed the door.
He picked up the letter and read the
contents. Marriage to an heiress was the
only way to restore the estates depleted by the late earl’s gambling. Drew groaned.
He had all but agreed to the union.
He crumpled the letter. Marriage to one of the coming Season’s
heiresses would never bring the weight he felt pressing on his chest. He had intended his marriage to be one of
convenience, providing a title for his wife and money and an heir for
himself. How could he have that kind of
marriage with Nicola Gordon when she was Aldora’s granddaughter?
The crumpled paper fell on the desk. Aldora would expect him to love her
granddaughter. Love was an
illusion. He could never love any woman,
even Nicola Gordon. He would never allow
her to have that power over him. Never!
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