In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) (25 page)

James
had a sudden thought. “You’ve known you were sick for a
long time, haven’t you?”

Archie
shrugged, noncommittal.

“Which
challenges your assertion that you want to be grandfather to a future
earl.”

Now
the old man’s expression turned sly, which for a moment belied
the seriousness of his illness. “I’m content with
knowing…the outcome, even if I can’t be there.
Everything I have will eventually go to your children. So…make
certain you have some.”

James
laughed. “You manipulative old bastard. I knew the day I met
you that you didn’t let anything stand in the way if you wanted
something.” He sobered. “But why me? I had nothing to
offer aside from my title. A man in financial ruin is not necessarily
the best choice. His motives would strike to the heart of any genuine
commitment. Surely you wanted more than that for your only child.”

The
old man was struggling to breathe, and James wondered if he should
end the conversation because listening to him gasp for air made him
feel as if he fought to breathe as well. But Archie clearly had
something he needed to impart.

“Your
father and I met through a mutual business acquaintance…many
years ago. Herbert Tremont had no money but he had integrity, and I
found him admirable in many ways. He had met Amanda, although I doubt
she remembers him. She was beautiful even as a child, poised. That’s
when he mentioned…his only son.”

James
shared a look with the ailing man as the significance of what was
being said hit him. “Are you saying what I think you’re
saying?”

Archie’s
gaze was unwavering, his answer clear without being voiced.

“You
and my father agreed on a betrothal between Amanda and me?”

“Nothing
that formal. We spoke on…a number of occasions. There was a
logic to the possibility. Your family needed money…I wanted my
daughter to marry well.”

James
was thunderstruck. “You made this decision when we were
children?”

“There
was no decision…just talk. However, not long before he died,
your father sought me out for the first time in many years. He knew
he was not well…and he wanted you to come home. Your family
needed you. He knew his death would force you back to England, but
you were returning to…obligations and no money. He hoped to
save you from that. He also felt that you would make a fine husband
for my daughter.” He smiled a wan smile. “Your father was
very proud of you.”

Archie
closed his eyes as he took another labored breath. His complexion was
waxy and gray, and he looked as though the effort to talk had
exhausted him. James wanted to fill the silence but was too
emotionally stunned to speak. The pain he had experienced when he
first heard of his father’s death had come back in a rush. He
started to stand, his hand on the mattress for leverage. Archie
grabbed his arm again. James looked into a pair of black eyes that
were feverish but fully alert.

“Reassure
an old man. Tell me…that you care for my Manda, that all is
well…or will be well.”

Oh,
the irony!
For the first time James truly understood how Amanda
felt. He was as much a pawn in the scheming of two ailing old men as
was his wife. However, it took him only a moment of consideration to
know absolutely he wouldn’t change a thing. He admired and
loved his father and still missed him greatly. Archie Campbell was a
decent if highly ambitious individual who meant well and clearly
loved his daughter. And Amanda had come to mean more to James than he
was comfortable admitting. He could throw a tantrum, having been
manipulated into doing someone else’s will, but as satisfying
as that might prove to be, Amanda and he had suffered enough through
this orchestrated debacle. Others had set this play into motion, but
his wife and he had been the principal performers and, given no
script, they had been left to muddle through as best they could.

Despite
the cynicism that now claimed his thoughts, James could not spite a
dying old man. Nevertheless, a gentle rebuke was not uncalled for. He
regained his seat and eased back in the chair.

“Amanda
has suffered greatly from your machinations, sir. And I sincerely
regret my part in all this. A more intuitive man would have seen
through your ruse, so I’m feeling rather dense at the moment as
well. You deceived not only her but also me, and yet…I can
truthfully say that the outcome is to my satisfaction. I cannot speak
for my wife on this matter.”

“But
you care for her?” Archie pressed again, oddly urgent as if
that was the only issue that held importance for him.

“I
love her, sir,” James said simply. “And I believe she
loves me. To say we’ve had an easy time of it, however, would
be inaccurate. It’s been a struggle, but I believe we’re
going to be all right.”

Archie
relaxed, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, what he would call the
old man’s first satisfying breath since James had entered the
sickroom. James actually felt the tension ease in his own lungs as
well.

“I’m
going home and bring Amanda back with me,” James continued. “I
want you to hold on until we return. For my wife’s sake.”

Archie
opened his eyes. He now looked less coherent, but he wore a contented
expression. “I’ll wait for her.”

“I’ll
expect you to keep your word, sir. I will hold it against you if you
die and leave Amanda with a guilty conscience. None of this is her
fault, and I want her to be at peace with what is to come.”
James knew he was being overly frank but, when all was said and done,
Amanda continued to be his first priority.

The
only answer the old man gave was a vague smile. Then he closed his
eyes and promptly fell unconscious.

Saddened
and not a little concerned, James left the chamber in search of the
nurse.

***

Amanda
approached the courier in the hall, apprehension developing in her
midsection. She was uncertain why she felt that way but, in her
experience, urgent missives were rarely good news.

“I
understand you have a letter for me,” she said to the man.

As
the courier handed it to her, he said, “This is from the
household of Archie Campbell. You are Lady Lonsdale?”

“Yes,
I am.” She glanced at the envelope. It was addressed to her,
but this was not her father’s sprawling script. “From the
household of Archie Campbell—not from my father himself?”

The
man shook his head. “Unless Mr. Winston is your father?”

Amanda
stared at him but didn’t answer. Abruptly she turned to the
footman who stood at her elbow. “Please see this man is fed and
his horse tended to.” To the courier, she said, “Thank
you. You’ll be compensated before you leave.”

She
crossed the entry and entered the sitting room, moving to the
escritoire along one wall to find a letter opener. An impatient
search found what she was looking for, and Amanda quickly sliced
through the flap on the envelope, removing the folded paper inside.
She held her breath, reading the note twice before releasing the
pent-up air. On shaky legs she moved to the sofa, pulling the bell,
then sat down. Another footman appeared almost immediately, and
Amanda suspected the staff had been watching and preparing to act
swiftly if she needed them to. If they feared something was wrong,
they were absolutely correct.

She
turned a face she knew was strained to the servant and said, “Please
ask Lady Bickford to attend me here at her earliest convenience.”

Her
father was ill. And since the missive was clearly sent without his
participation—and most likely without his knowledge—she
had to assume the worst. But how could that be? He was well when she
left him recently. Or was he? She remembered the watery cough and his
washed out appearance when she saw him last.

Within
minutes Aunt Henry rushed in the room. “Amanda! My dear, what
has happened?” The older woman plunked next to her on the sofa,
and Amanda passed her the letter. Henry gasped as she read. “Oh
no, oh no,” she murmured. She glanced up, worry in her kind
gaze. “What are you going to do?”

“Pack
a few things and leave within the hour.”

“Do
you think that’s wise? Perhaps you should wait for James to
return.”

Amanda
waved an impatient hand. “I don’t know when that will be.
I need to leave for London
now.
”

“But
I thought he was expected back rather quickly.”

“That
was the plan, of course, but I still have no idea how much time is
involved in his stay. So much depends on what had to be accomplished,
and even James was uncertain about that. I simply can’t wait.
My father may be…dead,” she forced the fearsome word
through trembling lips, “as we speak.”

“I
pray that’s not the case. Was James supposed to visit Mr.
Campbell?”

“We
didn’t actually speak of it one way or the other. I now wish we
had. It would, of course, have been the courteous thing for him do.”

“It’s
already past the noon hour. Late to be starting a journey.”

“What
choice do I have?”

Henry
sighed as if whatever argument she was waging was already lost.
“Right then, what do you want me to do?”

“Send
my maid to me. And please send word that a carriage is to be readied
for my departure. The coachman needs to take another driver to
relieve him. We’ll only be stopping to change horses and
refresh ourselves. I can rest while I’m traveling.”

The
older woman nodded as she stood up.

“And
please give the courier a missive for my husband. Hopefully, the man
can intercept James before he leaves London.”

***

As
soon as James rode into the stableyard at Lonsdale, he speedily
dismounted his horse and tossed the reins at the young stablehand who
rushed out to greet him. He wasted no words, merely nodding at the
young man with the expectation that he would be understood. James
took the steps at the back entrance of the main house, entering
through the kitchens, because that was his quickest access to inside.
His sudden appearance must have been a shock, for he evidently
frightened a scullery maid who was sitting on a stool and peeling
potatoes in a large wooden bowl she held on her lap. She jumped to
her feet, nearly losing the bowl to the floor in her haste.

“My
lord!” she squeaked.

He
dashed through the kitchen. “Carry on,” he threw over his
shoulder as he ran toward the servants’s stairs. His
destination was the floor above, hopefully to find his wife.

The
bedchamber he shared with Amanda was empty. He moved back into the
hall and toward the main staircase, calling for his wife as he went.

Aunt
Henry appeared at the foot of the main staircase. “James, where
did you come from? And why are you yelling?”

“Where’s
Amanda?” he asked as he descended into the entry hall to come
abreast of her.

Uncles
Ham and Harry, with Huey trailing behind them, appeared from the
sitting room. Curiosity was written on all three faces. Several
servants from different directions in the house also gravitated
toward the commotion. We’re drawing a crowd, James thought in
dismay.

“Everyone
back to their respective duties, please,” he said, authority in
his voice that sent everyone who was employed scurrying. His family,
however, remained in place, waiting for him to explain himself. He
turned to Aunt Henry. “Where’s my wife?”

“She
left for London day before yesterday.”

“Damn
it all to hell!” he bellowed.

The
old lady jumped, placing a hand to her ear closest to him. “James!
Behave yourself.”

At
once James was contrite. “Pardon, uncalled for.” He
quieted his voice though he knew his frustration was still obvious.
“But I was hoping to reach home before Amanda did anything
rash.”

“You
know of her father’s illness?”

“I
visited him. Why didn’t she wait for me?”

“Because
she didn’t know when you were scheduled to return, and finding
out that information would have taken more days than she felt was
advisable under the circumstances.
And
frankly, the message
she received was quite dire. Said if she wished to see her father
alive, time was of the essence. It was sent by a Mr. Winston at the
behest of Mr. Campbell’s man of business. It was also signed by
the attending physician.”

A
very reasonable explanation and yet James felt frustrated. “I’m
uncomfortable with her traveling and staying at an inn without me. A
woman alone…”

“She’s
not alone. She has four servants with her, my dear, who are very
diligent in their duties. No harm will come to her. Moreover, she
decided to travel without stopping except for meals and the changing
of horses.” Aunt Henry glanced around the entry then motioned
for her nephew to follow her into the sitting room. As she passed her
brothers, she said, “I’d like a few minutes alone with
James, if you don’t mind, gentlemen.”

All
three men nodded at her with disappointed expressions. After James
entered the room, Henry closed the double doors with a decisive click
and turned to face him.

It
was not a comfortable interview. Aunt Henry was obliged to tell him
about her wayward son and the trouble he had tried to provoke. She
was close to tears by the time she finished.

“I
had to have Derrick forcibly removed from the house, James.”

James
had managed to hold his temper while she spoke but only just. From
where he stood by the fireplace, he had remained quiet as his aunt
explained the events leading up to Amanda’s departure for
London. But the effort not to yell again was taking a toll on him.
Just as his relationship with Amanda had reached a very satisfying
turning point, Derrick had stuck his malicious accusations into the
middle of their reconciliation. His gut churned with righteous fury.