Beloved Monster (9 page)

The vicar walked toward her. “Tea is steeping, so that should give us a few moments to make room at the table.” They both began to shift the piles of clothes and other personal items to the sofa.

“There is quite a lot here. The earl was keen to shunt away any memory of his son?” Glenna asked.

“Hard to say. I think he wished to spare his wife further heartache more than anything. The poor woman is prostrate with grief. The earl is a little more, shall we say, self-contained.”

Glenna gave him a warm, genuine smile. “Much like yourself, Vicar?”

He nodded. “Aye. You could say that. At times it is easier to present a front of cool determination and aloofness than to reveal the hurt that resides deep inside your soul. I learned the lesson long ago. Do forgive my curtness when you first arrived. I am grieving over a dear friend’s untimely death.”

“Of course, please accept my most sincere condolences,” she murmured. Could the dear friend be Ravenswood? Unlikely, but it would not hurt to try and find out. Once they completed their chore, they both sat at the table. “Mr. Dornan, did you know the viscount well?”

An affectionate grin curved about his mouth. The vicar was quite a pleasant-looking man, especially when he smiled. In his early fifties, she guessed. How quickly he warmed up to the subject. “I was a young curate when I first arrived here twenty-three years past. At the time Ravenswood was about five years of age, and I recall there was some difficulty hiring a tutor so I was asked to fill in. I tutored him for eighteen months.” The smile grew warmer at the recollections. “While I was glad of the extra funds, I did grow fond of the lad. Very clever, a natural gift for retaining great swaths of information. He tried to hide his intelligence under a devil-may-care facade, one he kept in place the whole of his too-brief life. But I saw underneath to the lad eager for knowledge. For attention. For…love.”

“As the only son and heir, I would assume he did not lack either love or attention,” Glenna interjected.

“The viscount was quite a handful, rambunctious and mischievous, and as a result he annoyed his father greatly. Lucas did not fit the mold of how an heir should act, in the earl’s mind at least. It caused a rift between them, one that grew vast and wide through the years and sadly never mended. Lucas had his own ideas on how to live his life, and it certainly wasn’t under his father’s thumb. They clashed constantly and the arguments were legendary. On one or two occasions, blows were exchanged.”

How terrible.
“And his mother?”

The vicar sighed. “Lady Whitestone, though beautiful, is not an outwardly warm and caring woman. Fulfilling the many duties that come with being the wife of an earl occupied a considerable amount of her time. She also was attentive to her young daughter, believing a son should be left to the auspices of his father. As a result, the lad did not receive the love he needed. Nor the guidance. I did try, but…” The vicar shook his head, a look of sadness in his eyes.

Glenna inclined her head toward the piles of books. “It appears the viscount was a great reader.”

The vicar nodded and smiled, no doubt happy to change the subject. “Oh, aye. He did it in private, though, as if he did not want anyone to know of his keen and inquiring nature. I do not think the earl approved of deep intellect.” Mr. Dornan rose. “The tea must be ready. I’ll return in a tick.”

Well.
The dear friend the vicar grieved for?--Ravenswood. Interesting insight into Luke’s past life. If he possessed such an eager thirst for knowledge, why hide it? Perhaps it is as the vicar stated; the earl disapproved. No doubt the viscount’s peers would also scorn such a show of intelligence. In light of this, Ravenswood played up the rake within. Glenna shook her head and smiled. Yes, leave it to her to make a romantic hero out of him. Lucas Madden had been wicked and dissolute. Sharp brain powers or not.

The vicar laid a tray before her consisting of a china tea pot with a violet and pansy design, two matching cups and saucers, and a plate of oatcakes. “This is a special blend of black tea from Ireland. My family sends it to me regularly. Would you be so kind as to pour?”

She did, and handed him the tea as he sat. “Did the viscount’s talents run to other pursuits? Art? Music?”

He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Dear me, no. The lad was hopeless. No artistic talent whatsoever. I did try to teach him the piano. A complete disaster. All thumbs. And he did make an effort, I will give him that. Ultimately, we turned back to books. Through the years, we indulged in many a lively debate on the books we read. Those discussions continued well into his later youth.” The vicar sipped his tea, his eyes soft and moist. “After I became vicar and during his visits home from school, the viscount would come for an evening or two and we would discuss many topics. Books we’ve read of history, philosophy, and religion. I liked him. Quite a lot.” He shrugged. “Oh, I heard of his reputation, but I did not reprimand him as I suppose I should have. We were--friends. Friends do not judge. He certainly did not judge me.”

The temptation to confide of her own encounter with Ravenswood the Rake nearly made her reveal all. No need to add fuel to the gossip of which she was certain he’d heard in lurid detail. They were dear friends for a long time. What an astonishing revelation. Glenna reached for an oatcake. “I also am a great reader. Perhaps we could discuss books one afternoon over tea.”

The vicar froze.
Oh, heavens
. Did he think she was interested in him romantically? Why did she make such a forward suggestion? To find out he cared and mourned for Ravenswood warmed her.
She
genuinely
liked
Mr. Dornan. The times Glenna bothered to attend services she found him distant, unapproachable, and altogether stern. Goes to show you really do not know a person.

“I would like that,” he replied at last, his voice soft. “I would like it if you would call me Patrick. When we are alone at least.”

Now it was her turn to stiffen with uneasiness. Good Lord, he
did
think she was interested in him beyond friendship.

Patrick chuckled. “Do not be alarmed. You have nothing to fear. My amorous inclinations do not lean toward--women.”

What could he possibly mean? Oh.
Oh.
A hot flush spread across her cheeks. He preferred--men.

Patrick gave her a forlorn smile. “I have no idea why I revealed that. We hardly know each other, and believe me when I tell you I do not make a habit of exposing such private things about myself. Forgive me for shocking you. And I would appreciate you keep my secret to yourself, Miss Parker. For obvious reasons.”

Glenna took a great gulp of tea, then placed her cup on the table. She cleared her throat. “Please, do call me Glenna. Of course I will keep your confidence. And I am not shocked as such. Surprised perhaps. I admit I do not know of such inclinations as you call them, but love is love, is it not?”

“Ah, my dear Glenna. If only the rest of society and the world at large were as tolerant. Alas, they are not. Imprisonment is the penalty for such an inclination. To think thirty-four years ago it was punishable by death. Secrecy is indeed a must. Regardless, I would welcome your friendship and discussion on books. With gratitude.” He held out the plate of oatcakes and she took another. “Ravenswood knew of my amorous leanings. It did not bother him a bit or affect our friendship. I do grieve for his loss and now wish I had spoken out more on his profligate pursuits. To have it end in such a violent way.” He frowned into his cup. “Lucas loved this tea. He bade me to order a tin for him, but he never got the chance to collect it.”

Profligate pursuits? She wondered if Patrick heard of Ravenswood’s attendance at orgies with both sexes or was there even any truth in the salacious stories? A lump formed in her throat. “Yes. A tragic way for it to end.” A slight ache took root between her eyes. In order to take her mind off her growing headache, her gaze wandered to the piles of clothes. The silence between them extended, but it was not uncomfortable. It was as if both became lost in their thoughts of Ravenswood.

“Do you see anything here you wish to purchase? The money is for a good cause.” Patrick winked.

“I do. The shaving kit. These four pairs of trousers. These six white shirts and this black waistcoat.” She stood and stopped before the greatcoat lying across the top of the sofa. Ravenswood had been wearing it when they met for their “assignation” at the hunters hut. How dashing he looked, how the broadness of his shoulders and his muscular form showed the black wool garment to perfection. It still would. “This coat.”

Patrick laughed. “I do not know your cousin well, but I believe Ravenswood was a good deal taller. The clothing may not be a good fit.”

“I am very handy with a needle, I assure you. The alterations would be minimal as Reed is as broad, judging by the width of the cape.”

“Could I interest you in a few books, perhaps? No charge, my dear. Help yourself. Lucas would be pleased they went to someone who appreciates them. As would I.”

“It was fortuitous I brought the wagon.” She chuckled warmly.

Patrick took her hand. “And you will come back?”

Glenna nodded.

“Shall we say, two weeks from today, same time? I will have ham and egg sandwiches to go with the oatcakes?”

With a smile, she laid her hand on top of his. “I will be here.” Glenna was glad she came. Not only did she find out interesting aspects of Luke’s past life, but more importantly--she found a friend.

Hours passed, and Luke found himself growing more irritated as time went on. Where was Glenna? How he longed for her presence. The sobering thought crossed his mind that he’d become far too reliant on the attractive young woman. She saw to his needs, nursed and soothed him. Treated him with respect and did not recoil from his monstrous looks. True, he was recovering from his accident and trauma and welcomed the assistance. But it was not only that. He found great pleasure in looking at her, listening to her sweet voice, remembering every touch and brush of her fingers as if it had been permanently seared into his skin. The feelings of arousal grew. Even a mere smile from her caused him to react.

Being left alone for hours gave him time to formulate and organize his jumbled feelings. The first lucid thought was to escape, but the flaws in that hasty plan became clear the more he reflected on it. Luke surmised he couldn’t get far in this condition. He must heal first. But more than anything--he wanted answers.

The second lucid thought? Glenna. Since he could not draw on his past, he had no idea if he’d been in love before or experienced such a decided pull toward another female as he did with this lovely young woman. He wanted her beneath him, moaning and writhing in passion. The emotions overwhelming him were intoxicating and in turns, disturbing. Could it merely be a fleeting infatuation or something deeper and more compelling? Rather depressing not being able to remember any aspect of his previous life.

He glanced at the book he gripped in his right hand. John Munro’s
The Romance of Electricity.
Published in 1893, it gave a history of electricity up to that point in time, and gave Luke additional insight into how it had been used on him. It also gave him a general idea of what decade it was.

Reed’s study consisted of scientific manuals only, no books of fiction. The concept of electricity seemed familiar, as if he’d read about the subject before or previously seen electricity in action before the night he was resurrected. But as hard as he tried, he could not recall when or where. All remained cloaked in a black fog.

While alone, he practiced his speech. He could form sentences now without hesitations or stumbles and stutters, but decided to keep the development to himself in the interim. Though Glenna was kind and even Reed acted more sympathetic, he did not completely trust either one of them. Too many inconsistencies remained in their story. He raised his left hand, monstrous and gloved as it may be, and brushed it past the metal plate on the side of his head. The wound apparently was serious enough to require this shield to keep brain matter inside his skull. Is that why he could not recall anything of his life before awakening? His brains were literally scrambled?

The jingle of a horse’s harness pulled him from his gloomy thoughts. Glenna was home. A wave a rank expectancy rolled through him. Devil take it, he waited for her as a faithful dog would. But didn’t he feel exactly like a pet? The anticipation mixed with annoyance. Luke sat and fumed, listening to the activity above. Voices overlapped in animated conversation, but he could not make out what they were saying.

After several minutes, Glenna entered the room carrying a box. She appeared flushed and pretty, her face glowing from fresh air and sunshine. How he longed to have the sun shine on his face. Would he feel the warmth? But what he longed for most of all was for her to run to his arms and kiss him. Several tendrils of her golden-brown hair had worked their way loose from the knot at her nape and framed her lovely face, making her even more appealing. To his absolute dismay, his shaft stirred to life once again. He laid the book on his lap, hoping to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“I’ve been to the vicar’s. Reverend Patrick Dornan.” Glenna looked at him with wide, eager eyes, as if expecting him to know this person of whom she spoke. “Anyway, he came into the possession of clothes and other personal items from a recently deceased man of the parish, and the garments looked to be about your size. I have some of the items here in the box. Reed will bring the rest down later after he sees to the horse.” Her gaze slid to the nearby table. “You have not eaten. You must make an effort, Luke. You need your strength in order to recover.” She bustled about the study, placing the wrought iron kettle on the shelf above the flames in the hearth. “I brought tea. I will make you a cup. Later, I can bring you a piece of apple pie.”

The chatter continued and he closely watched her every move, until she took a seat next to him. She held out the plate with bread and cheese. Strange he did not feel hunger, nor had he even thought of food until Glenna mentioned it. Another curious state to add to the growing list. When he did eat, his body functioned by clearing itself of the waste, but otherwise it was as if he didn’t require food to live. A disturbing thought and one he was not sure he should share with the cousins. He reached for a piece of cheese and chewed it. Tasted fine, he just did not desire it or need it. Glenna pushed the plate before him, so he laid it on the top of the book. “Cheese…good.”