Because of You (16 page)

“What the deuce kind of horse can he buy at dawn in Darlington?” Wayland wondered.

Both of them found out shortly. Just as they were ready to board the coach, Yale rode up on a spirited black stallion. He was hatless and the ends of his overcoat flapped behind him.

He grinned at them, his eyes sparkling with enjoyment. “He’s a great one, isn’t he?”

Even Samantha could tell this was a magnificent horse. Wayland stepped forward and ran his hand along the chest and up the neck.

“He is,” he said with appreciation. “Where did you get him?”

“Bought him from the local squire up the road. I heard some of the men talking about him in the taproom last night.”

“I daresay he cost you a pretty penny,” Wayland hinted.

Yale shrugged. “He’s worth the price. After all, they say it pays to wager on a dark horse.”

His brother frowned. “Where is your hat?”

“I lost it when I put him through his paces on the road back there.”

“A gentleman always wears a hat,” Wayland said stubbornly.

Yale dismissed his words with a wave of his hand. “I’ll buy one at the next town.” Then, with
a sly smile in Samantha’s direction he said, “I’m naming him Beast. I hope you approve.”

She caught the reference to the night before. “It’s the perfect name for him,” she replied curtly, and climbed into the coach. Wasn’t it just like him to poke fun at everything?

Before the footman could close the door, Yale guided the horse up next to the coach. “I also brought you this, my lady.” From inside his overcoat, he pulled out a single red rose.

Samantha was surprised to see the bloom in the dead of winter. “Where did you find it?” she asked, taking it from him. Already the edges were curling from the cold, and she wanted to protect it.

“The squire had a hothouse. Growing roses is one of his hobbies. It cost me almost as much as the horse.” His gloved fingers closed over hers. “I hope you like it.”

Their gazes met—and she read in his an earnest plea for forgiveness.

He leaned closer and spoke so that only the two of them could hear. “I shouldn’t have teased you last night, Sam.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. She didn’t like him when he behaved in such a conciliatory manner. His behavior made it hard to keep the walls up between them.

She pulled back and Yale released her hand. The footman shut the door.

Wayland rapped on the wall and they were off.

Samantha slowly twirled the rose stem. She wished she could remove her gloves so that she could feel the velvety petals, but she would not do so in front of Wayland and Fenley. There was a danger of such a gesture being misinterpreted.

Wayland broke the silence. “I’m disappointed Yale decided to ride. I was hoping to have this time to talk with him.”

Curious, Samantha asked, “About what?”

“I do not know if he told you, but we do not know each other very well. I am twelve years older. We rarely spoke when we were boys. I was always off at school while he was growing up. By the time he started school, I was out and gone.”

Samantha glanced at Fenley, surprised Wayland would talk so freely in front of him.

The duke smiled. “Don’t ever worry about saying anything in front of Fenley, Samantha. He can be the wisest counsel a person can have in times of indecision. I value his opinion tremendously. He knows all the Carderock family secrets and we’d trust him with our lives.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Fenley said, pleased at the compliment.

A certain familiarity having been established, Samantha approached a question that had bothered her from the beginning of the trip. “Why is it that you wish Yale to come to London—or myself, for that matter? I admit to a bit of nervousness. I really am nothing more than a country
mouse. I would have been happy to stay back in Sproule.”

Wayland shook his head. “Come, Samantha, there is no reason for you to be nervous. As a member of my household, it is only right that you be introduced properly in Society. Marion will see that you are presented at Court. She’s very smart about all that.”

“Presented at Court?” she repeated weakly.

“You will do fine in London, Samantha. You have my name to protect you. As to my reason for wanting both you and Yale close, well, you’re family. Do you have much family?”

“No, I was an only child and have no living relatives.”

“Well then, I imagine you realize how important family can be?”

“There have been times I’ve wished I’d had brothers and sisters.”

“I’m a parent now, and I cannot imagine the pain of losing one of my sons. Father really did regret his actions. Learning of Yale’s death made him age almost overnight. I want my brother back in the fold. Family is important. Almost more important than money or prestige. I will not let Yale leave again.”

They could hear Yale outside the coach, laughing with one of the outriders.

“He always laughed that easily,” Wayland said. “Always so devil-may-care, and without a hat, no less!”

He fell into silence then. Samantha took a
small nap. When she woke, the three of them passed the time playing cards. They did not talk about Yale again.

That night at the inn, Samantha wondered if her husband would join her as he had the night before. After being ignored by him all day, she perversely anticipated another encounter with him.

He did come, but it was after she was asleep, and he left before she woke. She knew he’d been there because she could smell his shaving soap in the air. Looking over the side of the bed, she spied a pillow and sheet on the floor.

They had no private moments between them except for right after breakfast when they met by chance in the hallway. “Yale?”

He stopped. “Yes?”

“Your brother would like to spend time with you. I hope our differences don’t prevent you from pleasing him in this small way. He’d like for you to ride in the coach.”

“Why would he wish to have me near?”

“Because he is the head of the family, and because you are important to him.”

Yale snorted his opinion, but later that day, he did spend some time in the coach. He even answered without rancor the questions his older brother put to him about his business interests.

Samantha found it informative too. Yale was not only rich, but a very shrewd businessman—one who had still not bothered to purchase a hat, much to his brother’s continued impatience.

That night, Samantha lay in bed wide awake, listening for Yale. He slipped in the door close to what she thought was midnight. He smelled of the rich aroma of tobacco. He must have been in the taproom.

She listened as he quickly undressed. He was reaching for the pillow when she said his name.

Yale gave a startled oath and stepped back. He was bare chested but wore his breeches. “Samantha?”

“Yes?”

“You scared a year off me. I didn’t expect you to be awake.” He threw the pillow on the floor. “Mind if I take the bedspread?”

“Please do.” So, he wasn’t planning another seduction attempt. She didn’t know if she was pleased, or a bit piqued.

She waited until he was settled before saying, “Your brother appreciated the time you spent with him.”

“Glad to make him happy,” he answered, his voice ending in a yawn.

“He’s older than you.”

“Um-hm.”

Samantha shifted restlessly. “He said you didn’t know each other very well.”

Yale’s head popped up by the side of the bed. His brows came together in irritation. “What is this, Samantha? An interrogation about my family?”

“I am just curious,” she said defensively.

“You are, hm?” He considered her a moment
and then sighed. “Actually, you might as well know about the lot of it, since you will be spending a great deal of time with them. Then you’ll realize how absurd Wayland’s protestations of a close family are.”

He lay down, his hands cupping the back of his head. Samantha positioned her pillow close to the edge of the bed to hear better.

“The truth is, none of us are close,” Yale began. “My mother was Father’s second wife. He married her to give Wayland and my sister Twyla—you’ll meet her in London, no doubt—a mother. But he also tweaked his own vanity a bit by marrying a much younger woman. My mother was the daughter of an improvised baronet but had enough looks to be the toast of the Season.”

Having known the old duke, Samantha was not surprised. He’d always had an eye for the ladies.

“You favor her, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, something that didn’t work to my advantage. The marriage was a disaster. Father and Mother could not agree on anything. Wayland wasn’t set against Mother, but Twyla hated her. She must have been about seven or eight at the time of the marriage. Worse, my mother was the sort of chit who never matured into a woman. Even I could see that. Someone always had to take care of her. Of course, she had servants—wait until you see the house in London. Even the servants have servants—but she demanded Fa
ther’s constant attention and he got so he couldn’t stand her silly prattle.”

“But hadn’t he fallen in love with her?”

“Love? What a queer notion.” And then he paused. “Ah, yes, I forgot…you believe in love.”

“Don’t you?”

“I rarely believe in anything I can’t touch, taste, or see.”

She moved restlessly. “But what of feelings?”

“Feelings lie, Sam,” he replied brutally. “Remember when you thought you loved me?”

She did…and she had to agree he was right.

Hugging the pillow closer, she said, “Finish your story.”

“There isn’t much else to say. Father hoped for more sons. Mother gave him one, and since he valued reason and intelligence, and she had none of that, she bored him. After I was born, he ignored her until she died of typhus when I was six. End of story.”

But Samantha heard what he didn’t say. “It was hard losing my mother last year. I can’t imagine losing her when I was a child.” By now, she was close enough to the edge of the bed to see over it.

He shrugged, studying the fire burning in the hearth. “I lost more than a parent. I was summarily shipped off to school. Father didn’t want any memory of his marriage underfoot. Besides, I was never what he wanted me to be.”

“And what was that?”

“What else? The image of Wayland. Wayland always did whatever Father asked of him and never questioned him once.”

“Whereas you questioned him often?”

Yale grunted his response before adding, “Experience has finally taught me it is never wise to tweak the tiger’s nose in his lair. Of course, now that I’m older, I understand Father better. He was right about many things, especially those concerning me.”

He smiled up at Samantha. “He called me a dreamer. It was the worst thing a person could be, to his way of thinking. He always used to say dreamers are fools.”

“But that’s not true.” Samantha came up on one elbow, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I envy the dreamers. They are the people who can imagine things and see the world as a better place. My father was a dreamer. I’ve always been the sort who does the right thing. No matter how hard I try, I can’t be anything but practical.”

“People can change, Sam. It’s hard, but it can be done. After all, look at me. I’m a right bloody pragmatist.”

“And you no longer dream?”

“Not that I would admit it.”

“Was it hard, being on your own?” she asked.

“‘Lonely’ is a better word. When Father printed the disinheritance letter in the papers, all my friends vanished. My landlord turned me out. Even my mistress gave me the boot.”

Samantha ran her finger along the edge of the
mattress. “That’s how I felt when the people of Sproule wanted me out of the vicarage. I’m still angry at how they treated me. How did you cope?”

“I got drunk and signed up on a merchantman headed for the China Sea. Something I don’t recommend you do.”

She smiled. “I can’t see me working before the mast, either.”

“Nor could I back then. When I sobered and realized what I had done, I tried to leave the ship and got a sound beating for my endeavor.”

At Samantha’s sympathetic gasp, he shook his head. “It was the best thing that could have happened to me. I was an idealist who didn’t understand how the world worked. That night, as I was nursing my wounds, I vowed I would prove everyone wrong about me. I would make my own way in the world, and so I have.”

Yawning, he rubbed his face with his hand, but she felt wide awake, mulling over his words in her mind.

She rested her chin on her hand. “Why did come back to England?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why now? Why did you return now?”

For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to answer her, but then he said, “To show my father I was a worthy son.” His lips curved into a smile. “I was going to sail my ship up the Thames and invite him on board. I wanted him to see me as a wealthy man and know he was
wrong about me. But it was all for naught,” he added softly. “None of it matters, now that Father is dead.”