emergency fu—
The curricle bounced across a rut, brushing Andrew’s leg against her own. Heat speared her from head to toe. Eleven years had not banished that childish infatuation.
Her fault, of course, she admitted, suppressing her reaction through force of will. She’d escaped into fantasies of Andrew whenever life became a burden – the day her father had lost her already-inadequate dowry, her unsuccessful attempt to escape Fields House, the abuse she endured from Laura….
Reliving childhood escapades and imagining what life might have been like if he’d stayed in Devonshire had kept her rational.
Don’t, she admonished herself. This is no time for fantasy.
And he was no fantasy knight. Already she saw differences between the real and imaginary Andrews that proved she knew little of the man he had become.
His looks still demanded attention, and he exuded a blatant masculinity she’d never encountered before, even from him. But war and hardship had encased him in armor. His once expressive face had frozen into a harsh mask. His eyes had gone flat and haunted, offering only an occasional glimpse of a soul tormented by ghosts, pain, and horror. The teasing twinkle she’d loved so much was gone.
His eyes had formerly revealed his every thought, though she’d sometimes missed the message. Like the day he’d informed her, quite solemnly, that Kevin had found a new playmate and no longer welcomed their company. In truth, Kevin had acquired a tutor who kept him in the schoolroom instead of letting him run wild from dawn to dusk. Andrew’s teasing had been prescient, though. Kevin had fallen in love with books, becoming so enamored of study that the tutor had to force him outside. In the end, it had been Chloe and Andrew who kept his life balanced.
She stifled the reminder of her dead brother. This was no time to visit old griefs. The purpose of this journey was to relax for a few hours.
The lane finally curved, blocking Laura’s fury. It had been burning into her back since Andrew had set the team in motion. But she would face that problem tomorrow. For now she must prepare for her family.
Which meant only Peter. An immediate funeral guaranteed that no other relatives could attend. They would probably have refused anyway. The uncles and cousins had avoided Sir Nigel for years, condemning him for his profligacy and his stubborn refusal to hire a competent man of business. In response, he’d refused to acknowledge their existence, even barring Uncle Leo from the estate.
Poor Papa , she thought, swallowing tears. He had never accepted responsibility for his losses. So when the family descended with their criticism and advice, he had dug in his heels and clung to his ways. If they had left him alone, he might have learned from his mistakes – and the family fortune might have survived.
The uncles had also tried to groom Peter for a life of fiscal responsibility. But Peter shared their father’s determination to build his own fortune, though his methods were no more effective. While Sir Nigel gambled on investments, Peter had just gambled. What had started as an attempt to supplement an inadequate allowance had quickly become an obsession.
Better men than Peter had lost fortunes at the tables, but Peter’s temper worsened with each new loss, making him argumentative. The year before Chloe had left Fields House, the two men had fought often over money – which was another reason she’d welcomed this post.
Nothing fazed Peter. Not debt. Not threats. Not even a beating he’d taken after reneging on a payment to a moneylender. No matter how badly he lost, he still believed that he would win the next time – and win big. Then he could escape their father’s heavy hand.
Well, he had managed that last. But she knew as sure as the sun rose in the east that he would squander his entire inheritance within the year. She did not want to be nearby when he found his back against the wall.
“Are you all
The curricle bounced across a rut, brushing Andrew’s leg against her own. Heat speared her from head to toe. Eleven years had not banished that childish infatuation.
Her fault, of course, she admitted, suppressing her reaction through force of will. She’d escaped into fantasies of Andrew whenever life became a burden – the day her father had lost her already-inadequate dowry, her unsuccessful attempt to escape Fields House, the abuse she endured from Laura….
Reliving childhood escapades and imagining what life might have been like if he’d stayed in Devonshire had kept her rational.
Don’t, she admonished herself. This is no time for fantasy.
And he was no fantasy knight. Already she saw differences between the real and imaginary Andrews that proved she knew little of the man he had become.
His looks still demanded attention, and he exuded a blatant masculinity she’d never encountered before, even from him. But war and hardship had encased him in armor. His once expressive face had frozen into a harsh mask. His eyes had gone flat and haunted, offering only an occasional glimpse of a soul tormented by ghosts, pain, and horror. The teasing twinkle she’d loved so much was gone.
His eyes had formerly revealed his every thought, though she’d sometimes missed the message. Like the day he’d informed her, quite solemnly, that Kevin had found a new playmate and no longer welcomed their company. In truth, Kevin had acquired a tutor who kept him in the schoolroom instead of letting him run wild from dawn to dusk. Andrew’s teasing had been prescient, though. Kevin had fallen in love with books, becoming so enamored of study that the tutor had to force him outside. In the end, it had been Chloe and Andrew who kept his life balanced.
She stifled the reminder of her dead brother. This was no time to visit old griefs. The purpose of this journey was to relax for a few hours.
The lane finally curved, blocking Laura’s fury. It had been burning into her back since Andrew had set the team in motion. But she would face that problem tomorrow. For now she must prepare for her family.
Which meant only Peter. An immediate funeral guaranteed that no other relatives could attend. They would probably have refused anyway. The uncles and cousins had avoided Sir Nigel for years, condemning him for his profligacy and his stubborn refusal to hire a competent man of business. In response, he’d refused to acknowledge their existence, even barring Uncle Leo from the estate.
Poor Papa , she thought, swallowing tears. He had never accepted responsibility for his losses. So when the family descended with their criticism and advice, he had dug in his heels and clung to his ways. If they had left him alone, he might have learned from his mistakes – and the family fortune might have survived.
The uncles had also tried to groom Peter for a life of fiscal responsibility. But Peter shared their father’s determination to build his own fortune, though his methods were no more effective. While Sir Nigel gambled on investments, Peter had just gambled. What had started as an attempt to supplement an inadequate allowance had quickly become an obsession.
Better men than Peter had lost fortunes at the tables, but Peter’s temper worsened with each new loss, making him argumentative. The year before Chloe had left Fields House, the two men had fought often over money – which was another reason she’d welcomed this post.
Nothing fazed Peter. Not debt. Not threats. Not even a beating he’d taken after reneging on a payment to a moneylender. No matter how badly he lost, he still believed that he would win the next time – and win big. Then he could escape their father’s heavy hand.
Well, he had managed that last. But she knew as sure as the sun rose in the east that he would squander his entire inheritance within the year. She did not want to be nearby when he found his back against the wall.
“Are you all
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