Julia London 4 Book Bundle (44 page)

Adrian threw his head back and looked heavenward, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. “Show me mercy, Lord,” he groaned. “Show me mercy once more, and I swear on Phillip’s grave I shall never squander it again.”

He waited, almost breathlessly. But the heavens did not open up and strike him with a bolt of kindness and mercy.

And Adrian doubled over with grief.

     
L
ILLIANA HAD NEVER
felt so exhausted in all her life. Or sick—her pregnancy seemed to keep her constantly nauseated. She trudged up the stairs of the Kealing Inn, using the railing to pull herself up to each step. When she reached the first floor, she walked slowly down the narrow hallway, believing that her heavy heart actually dragged on the floor. She desperately hoped Polly had gone to the public rooms as she had no desire to speak of the events at Kealing Park.

When she reached the door of her room, Lilliana took a deep breath and prepared to endure Polly’s disapproving questions. She walked inside, tossed her gloves and reticule on a chair, and lifted her arms to remove her bonnet. As she was quite certain Polly would come barreling out of the adjoining rooms at any moment, she was hardly surprised when she heard the woman’s heavy footfall behind her. Lilliana lifted the bonnet from her head and smoothed her hair into place before turning around.

He caught her completely by surprise, but she was too tired, too emotionally spent, too ill, for Adrian’s presence to do anything but register mild alarm. Leaning
against the doorframe with one leg crossed negligibly over the other, his arms folded tightly across his chest, he looked impossibly handsome and proud … and angry. Lilliana wearily tossed her bonnet onto the chair and attempted a halfhearted smile. He did not even blink, but locked his glittering gaze with hers. She waited for him to speak; when he showed no inclination of doing so, she asked simply, “How did you find me?”

“Kettering,” he answered without hesitation. “Passed through Kealing yesterday and saw you. I was fortunate enough to find Bertram wandering about, peering in shop windows. Seems he is rather bored,” he said idly.

Lilliana nodded.

Adrian pushed away from the door and moved into the middle of the room, his arms still folded defensively across his chest, his eyes blazing with a curious glint of anger and trepidation. “Mrs. Dismuke has packed your things. I hope you have taken your tender leave of Benedict, because I am sending you home to collect your belongings.”

Lilliana’s heart wrenched; his voice carried no rancor, but the glint in his eye turned hard. She supposed she should be incensed that he would assume she was carrying on some illicit affair with his very own brother, but she was too nauseated to dredge up much more than a deep sorrow for the man she loved with all her heart. How he must have suffered all these years! “I know you are angry, but there is something I must tell you—”

“Don’t, Lilliana,” he said quietly, and lifted one hand. “Just … don’t. I am sick to death of the lies.”

Sick of the lies! And he didn’t know how many of them there had been, she thought miserably.
God
, she was tired. She pressed her hand to her forehead. “I did lie to you,” she admitted, and noticed the painful grimace that scudded across his features before the mask slid into place. “But I did not deceive you with Benedict or anyone else. There was something I had to know—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Gather your things. The
coach is waiting to take you to Longbridge,” Adrian said, and clenched his jaw so tightly that his cheeks bulged with the exertion. He was angry, so angry he could hardly contain himself, she realized. She clasped her hands in front of her and bowed her head slightly as another wave of nausea bubbled up. She wasn’t going anywhere until she told him what she knew. “I came to Kealing because I suspected there was more to your birth than you realize—”

“What?”
he fairly exploded, and stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “Don’t you understand? I have caught you in a dreadful deception, madam. I have every right and every reason to send you away from me—I even have grounds to divorce you. I don’t know what the two of you have planned, but don’t compound it by creating some ridiculous tale—”

“It’s not a ridiculous tale—”

“Have you seen Benedict, Lilliana? Just answer that question, would you? Have you seen him?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly shook his head and raised a hand to stop her. “Before you attempt to lie to me again, consider this: You turned against me when my sight was restored. You even said … bloody hell, there is no point in repeating it. You
know
what you said, then you lied when you said you were going to meet your family. But you came to
Kealing
, didn’t you, the one place on this earth to which you knew I would object! It all seems so …” He closed his eyes for a moment as he obviously sought the right words. When he opened them again, he cast her a look full of suspicion. “For all your protestations to the contrary, I can’t help wondering what really occurred while I was blinded. Take care in answering, because when I began to regain my sight, I saw the two of you! Answer me honestly, Lilliana. Have you seen Benedict?”

The accusation stung and angered her. She could hardly speak, much less respond to such rubbish. Adrian groaned and whirled away from her. Running a hand through his hair, he stalked to the window. The nausea
swelled; beads of perspiration erupted on her scalp, and Lilliana sank into a chair. “For the last time, Adrian, you saw
nothing!
” she insisted. “Yet what difference does it make what I say? You will believe what you want to believe, and why shouldn’t you? I, too, find myself wondering what really occurred when I thought you blind! How often did you sit and observe me? Lord
God
, you have your nerve!” she snapped, and forced herself to take a deep breath. Only moments ago, she had been ready to forgive him everything, but now she felt the seeds of distrust sprouting in her all over again. “Perhaps because you are prone to deception, you believe it of everyone else. Need I remind you of London?”

“That’s enough!” Adrian roared, and jerked around to face her. Confronted with her own treachery, she acted as if this was nothing more than having sewn his neckcloths together! Adrian feared he might explode at any moment. “I have never so much as looked at another woman since the moment I offered for you, Lilliana. Not once. Do not attempt to use that as a shield. Now gather your things. I want you out of my house by the end of the week.”
And out of my heart
 … “You are not welcome at Longbridge any longer.”

She shook her head, dislodging a silken strand of hair that draped her cheek. “This is ridiculous! I didn’t come here because of Benedict! If you could put aside your foolish suspicions for just a moment, I am trying to tell you that I know about your past, Adrian. I know someone who can explain it all. If you will just listen to me—better yet,
come
with me—”

“Lilliana!”
he snapped. Amazingly, she appeared to have no concept of what she had done! “You are obviously not hearing me clearly,” he said evenly, trying desperately to keep calm, “Under the circumstances, you have no grounds to ask me to do a bloody thing. You are going to Longbridge
now.
”

She blinked up at him as she pushed the strand of hair from her cheek. “You don’t understand—I am trying to help you.”

“By lying to me? Deceiving me?” he asked, incredulous.

A noticeable change came over her green eyes—they hardened somehow, the light in them dimming. “No more than you have deceived me, husband,” she muttered low.

That pierced him; he cut a scathing glance across her. “Gather your things.” She made no attempt to move. Adrian stared at his wife, noticing for the first time the dark circles under her eyes, the weary way in which she held herself. A flicker of sympathy struck him from nowhere, but he quickly smothered it. She had betrayed him in the most egregious way imaginable. “If you don’t do as I ask, I’ll send Bertram up to do it for you,” he said stiffly, and walked to the door.

He heard her catch a sob in her throat. “All right. You win, Adrian. I can’t fight you anymore,” she muttered. “I just don’t have the strength to fight you anymore!”

Her voice, suddenly small and weary, shot right to the middle of his soul. His hand stilled on the brass knob as his wounded heart warred with what was left of his senses.

“Then don’t,” he said, and walked out the door.

He decided to go to London so he wouldn’t have to see her again. But then again, he couldn’t bear not knowing if she had left Longbridge. Did Benedict know? Was he waiting for her? In a state of rare emotional confusion, Adrian skulked around Kealing for two days. When he at last could take it no more, he had the hostler saddle Thunder, determined to let the wind decide where to take him. And as he was waiting in the courtyard for his mount, he heard a familiar, odious voice.

“Lord Albright! Good day, my lord!” Mr. Pearle shouted. Adrian winced and glanced over his shoulder to see the rotund solicitor waddling as fast as his stout little
legs would carry him. Groaning, he looked anxiously to the stables. What was taking them so long?

“My lord! Oh my!” Mr. Pearle exclaimed as he came to a halt, and panting, took several deep breaths before he could speak. “It’s rather warm,” he explained between gulps of air.

“Good day, Mr. Pearle,” Adrian muttered.

“Pardon, my lord, but I simply had to thank you for allowing Lady Albright to come to Kealing on her charitable mission. I naturally had the enormous pleasure of meeting her. What a delightful ray of sunshine! But then again, I am quite certain I said as much when you inquired—”

“Mr. Pearle, is there something I might help you with?” Adrian snapped. Charitable mission indeed!

Mr. Pearle nervously fingered his neckcloth. “Well, actually … I wondered if Lady Albright enjoyed meeting your lady aunt. It’s been a rather long time since anyone actually
saw
Lady Allison, and I would inquire after her health, you see. Charming woman.”

His lady aunt? What nonsense! Adrian turned his head just slightly and peered down at the little man as he sopped up the perspiration on his brow with a frilly handkerchief. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Lady Allison, that is. Ah, but your lovely wife is such a dear, kindhearted soul to think to pass along the family keepsakes to your aunt. How terribly
thoughtful!
But she’s always been known in these parts for being so thoughtful.” Mr. Pearle beamed at Adrian.

What
aunt?
I know someone who can explain it all.
… A pinprick of pain settled behind his eyes, and as the hostler brought Thunder into the courtyard, Adrian repeated dumbly, “Lady Allison?”

Mr. Pearle adjusted his neckcloth. “Why, yes! No doubt it’s been a fair number of years since you’ve seen her, but she still resides on the abbey road just north of Fairlington,” he said, and squinted up at Adrian. “You
do
know where she lives, my lord?” he asked, cocking his head thoughtfully to one side.

If you’ll just listen to me
—
better yet, come with me.
… His mind was suddenly reeling and his heart was banging against the wall of his chest. Somehow Adrian managed to make his legs move toward Thunder. “Of course,” he said over his shoulder. “I am on my way to pay her a call now.” He swung up on Thunder’s back and glanced down at the beaming Mr. Pearle. “Good day, sir,” he muttered, and didn’t hear Mr. Pearle call after him to give his warmest regards to Lady Allison.

He stood in front of the spacious thatch-roofed cottage, simply staring at it, trying to make sense of it, until a man appeared dressed in rugged knee-high boots and a sturdy cotton shirt stained with perspiration. How on earth a woodsman had entered this bizarre story, Adrian could not begin to fathom. The woodsman tipped his hat.

“Pardon, sir, but I am looking for Lady Allison.”

The woodsman’s cheerful countenance rapidly fell; he peered closely at Adrian. “It’s Mrs. Fletcher you want,” he said, and at that moment, a woman appeared in the door of the cottage that made Adrian’s heart plummet to his boots.
His mother had awakened from the dead.
Several strong shudders racked his frame; his heart began to pound so fast that he was certain he was having a seizure. God help him, it was his
mother!
Except that her face was broader, and her hair, though flecked with gray, was almost the color of his own. His mother’s hair had been blond.

As he was trying to make sense of the apparition in front of him, the woman walked slowly forward, her eyes full of wonder. “Oh my,” she whispered,
“Adrian?”

He took an involuntary step backward, unable to speak. Confusion seized his brain; his mind raged with the improbability, trying to understand how his mother had risen from the dead.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” she said as she stepped out of the little yard, nearing him.

Fearful that his voice would betray him, Adrian clamped his jaw shut.

“We met only once, and it was many years ago,” she said, and smiled sweetly—
exactly
as he remembered his mother’s smile. “In Cambridge. You were only six or seven years old, I think.”

Cambridge.
He had been to Cambridge when he was eight, with his mother and Benedict. He had met his grandfather there; he could recall very clearly the imposing figure of the man.

She reached out and touched his arm. “Look at you,” she murmured. “Evelyn would be so proud. I am your mother’s sister, Adrian. My name is Allison.”

His mind could not absorb those words. His mother had been an only child, the only issue of the cold Lord Albright. Had she a sister, he surely would have known it! Was this woman deceiving him? But the resemblance! He could not help gaping at her in disbelief, madly wondering how he could not have known! The woman smiled again, and for a moment she looked so much like his mother that he feared he might fall into her arms.

“Why don’t you come inside? William has a good batch of ale—you look as if you could use a pint.”