Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

England

Lucien accepted the congratulations that came his way as another one of his horses won. He glanced at his sister who had been opening up over the past seven years. It had been a difficult road both with his sister and with starting the stables.

His father had thrown in every sort of obstacle possible. Lucien had succeeded, however, despite the problems he had faced. He had become successful at something that was his very own. Proud, he gathered his sister and headed back to Heartstone.

Lucien entered his study and poured himself a brandy while he sat at his desk. At one corner sat a carving of a wolf with a message at the bottom. Ciara. He thought about her often. More than often. Daily. Nightly. It seemed that his heart tattooed out her name. He realized that he had known love.

His two friends, Rafe and Phillip, joined him in the study and helped themselves to some brandy. “Some race today, Luc. Your stables are doing well.” Rafe Carson, Viscount Harrington, spoke as he took a long drink of the smooth brandy. “I bet your old man hates it.”

Lucien smiled, one of pure male satisfaction. “Probably.”

Phillip Vallence, Earl of Edais, spoke next. “I say, Luc, you are a different man since you returned from that heathen country.”

“America, Phillip?” Bloody hell, man, it was seven years ago. Seven long years.

“That’s the place. What happened to you over there?”

“I went and got a horse for my father.”

Rafe snorted his disbelief. He spied the carving and walked over to pick it up. “Where did you get this? I don’t remember seeing it before.” He whistled low as he read the inscription. “Wolf?”

“Put it down, Rafe.” Lucien’s tone brooked no argument.

“Who is Wolf? Is that you? Where did you get this? Better yet, when did you get this?” His friend kept pushing.

“Leave it alone, Rafe.”

Phillip spoke up. “I say, I bet it’s some colonial whore who secured a place in his heart.” He laughed as if he had told a hilarious joke.

The sound of glass breaking snapped both Phillip and Rafe to attention. Lucien spoke low but there was no way to miss the daggered tone of his voice. The glass he had been drinking from lay in shards and his hand bled. His eyes were like ice shards. “She is not a whore and if you speak of her in such a way again, I will kill you.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know she meant…”

“You don’t know anything. You are drunk, Edais. Go home. Take Rafe with you.” Lucien waved a dismissive hand and shut his eyes against the onslaught of pain every thought of Ciara brought. It had been seven years and he still dreamed of her every night.

Seven years and no sign of the horse she had promised. She could be married now, with children. At the thought of another man with her—he groaned as he put his head on his desk. He couldn’t get her out of his mind no matter what he did. The women he pursued now looked nothing like her. Who was he kidding? No one in England looked like her. She was amazing. She was gone.

He was thirty-three and needed to get an heir. Lucien was still one of the most sought-after men for the mothers in the ‘marriage mart.’ He kept to Heartstone. He didn’t want a blushing debutante, and he wanted someone with curves who made him weak in the knees. Someone who smelled fresh. Someone who would stand up to him and make his life interesting. Someone like Ciara. No, there was no woman in the world like her.

He wanted Ciara.

His sister, Devonna, had begun to come out of her shell. They’d had a rocky start but she was doing well. If she saw her brother or father she would fall silent and withdraw. Not like they ever came out to Heartstone. Foley had found nothing to report on the happenings while she was at Stokley.

His stables had taken a lot of time and a lot of hard work, but he was proud of them. He looked up as Rafe came back into the room. He glared at his friend.

“What do you want, Rafe? I thought you were leaving?”

Lucien had wrapped his hand to stop the blood and summoned someone to clean up the mess he had made.

“I sent Phillip back home. I came to apologize. I didn’t know that you had met someone over there. I never would have said anything about the statue if I had known.”

Lucien shook his head. “That’s all right. No one knows. I am going down to the stables. Want to come?”

Rafe nodded and turned toward the door. It opened and in walked Devonna garbed in a deep purple that brought out her violet-blue eyes. Lucien began to speak to Rafe when he noticed the two of them. They were staring at each other like they were each other’s lifeline and they needed to look at each other to survive. Lucien was as good as invisible.

Humm humm. Lucien cleared his throat and hid a grin as his sister and best friend blushed to their roots. Devonna managed an awkward curtsy and mumbled, “My lord, Lord Harrington.”

Lucien took pity on them. “Was there something you needed, Devonna?”

“Um. No. No. I was only going to ask you if I could go for a ride. Sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

“Nonsense. Rafe and I were just on our way to the stables. Why don’t you join us? We could all go for a ride.” He glanced at Rafe and raised one brow in a dare. “Rafe, what do you think? Care to join us?”

“I would love to.” His eyes flared as he nodded to Lucien. They all headed for the stable. Lucien watched in amusement as the two with him pretended not to notice each other, when in fact they couldn’t take their eyes off each other. It was the most animated he had ever seen his sister. It encouraged him for she was twenty-five now.

When they arrived at the stable, a liveried servant from the house ran up to him. “My lord,” he panted. “His Grace is coming. Up the drive.”

Lucien slanted a glance at his sister, noticing how her color faded. “Thank you, Thomas. Ready some rooms.”

Devonna was pale and had backed up into a stall, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a horse in it.

Lucien took a deep breath before he headed for the house. Partway out of the barn, he swung back and asked Rafe, “Will you escort my sister on her ride? Take a groom with you so it is proper. Return in about one to two hours.”

The urgency in his tone was not lost on his friend who nodded his agreement right away.

Lucien cracked his neck on his way up to the house as he prepared himself for this confrontation. He waited on the steps when the carriages pulled in. His father descended and looked at him.

“Your Grace. To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”

“Don’t get smart, boy. We came because we found someone to marry your sister. Even though she is on the shelf and dumb.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed in warning. “Watch how you speak of my sister.”

“She is my child and I will speak to her or of her any way I wish. Bring her to me. I have no wish to remain in this place longer than necessary.”

Lucien smirked. “Good, I have no wish for you to remain. She is not here. She is out riding.”

“Go get her, boy.” The voice rose. “I have promised her hand to Viscount Dansworthy. They will be wed within the month.”

Viscount Dansworthy was a letch. The small progress Devonna had made would be lost under him.

“No. She won’t marry him.”

“You dare tell me who she will and will not marry?”

“No, I do.” Rafe entered the conversation. “I am sorry, Your Grace, I have compromised your daughter and I was discussing the details with her brother since it was here that it happened. I will do the honorable thing and marry her.”

Devonna stood behind Rafe and at his announcement Lucien could have sworn that she smiled.

Teeth gritted in an attempt to control himself, Lucien turned to his father and said, “Perhaps we could go inside and finish discussing the details.”

The look he sent to Rafe promised that his time was not long in coming for that stunt. The duke stomped inside, followed by his wife, his son Lucien, daughter Devonna and soon-to-be-son-in-law Rafe.

Lucien’s younger brother—stepbrother—stayed outside to smoke and see what trouble he could get into. Richard Nidels, stepbrother to the Marquess of Heartstone, was an angry man.

Not a handsome man, he was whip thin with a very large nose, and eyes that were a light watery blue. His teeth were crooked and he was not built to wear clothes so they looked nice on him.

The butler entered after a brief, sharp knock on the door.

“My lord. There is someone here to see you.”

“Weeks. We are busy here. Tell them to leave their card and wait or come back later.”

“I tried, my lord. They insist that they have an appointment with you. They don’t have a card.”

Lucien’s brother rose and said, “I’ll deal with it.” He walked past the butler who didn’t even flinch, just gazed at his employer.

Lucien wondered if maybe it was his current mistress, Christie. But the normally unflappable Weeks seemed very nervous. Hell, he’d not even see his brother return to the room.

“Stupid butler. Do your job, we are busy here,” the duke put in.

“Enough,” Lucien roared, furious. “This is my house. These are my servants. Do not speak to them in that tone. Everything will be dealt with in due time. I will go with Weeks, deal with this person, come back and we will finish this. Get some food, for His Grace will be staying longer than expected. Everyone understand?”

“Bloody hell!” The scream came from the hall as his stepbrother Richard bolted back into the study, pale and shaking like he had seen a ghost. “There are creatures out there.”

Lucian groaned. His stepbrother was an idiot.

Weeks spoke up. “My lord. That is what I wished to advise you of. This person has animals with them.”

“What is so odd about that, Weeks? Most people have animals. Did you ask them for a name?”

His butler looked affronted. He sniffed. “Of course. I can’t tell you, though, for aside from asking for you, they said nothing except that I was to give this to you.” Weeks crossed the room and handed him a money pouch on a silver platter. It was his. He knew that from the seal. “I was told there was a note inside, my lord.”

A headache loomed. He rubbed his temples as he asked, “What did they look like, Weeks?” He opened the bag and took out the note.

“Couldn’t tell you, milord.”

“What kind of butler are you? All you have to do is look at them and then…”

“Stop,” Lucien snapped. “Not another word out of you, Father. Emma, close your mouth because I am not in the mood to hear it from you either. Continue, Weeks.” He opened the note and the words that jumped off the paper at him made him shaky.

A promise once made

has been fulfilled.

It was unsigned. It didn’t have to be signed, for he knew who it was from.

“They are wearing a hooded cloak and I can’t see what they look like.”

Lucien’s knees gave out and he sat with a thump in his chair. “Weeks, what type of animals?”

It couldn’t be. After all this time, after seven years could she really be here? Or was he just imagining what he had dreamed of so often, what he longed for?

“Horses, what looks like a wolf and a…” Lucien jumped up and sprinted through the doorway.

Lucien stumbled through the open door to his manorial home and looked down the steps. The sight he saw almost made him weep.