Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Gwen fought to remain upright but her world spun on its axis, her mind a whirl of questions. She wasn't sure which one to address first: the loss, the pain, the treachery, the revival of a passion she thought dead and buried. Still, despite the confusion, two things remained.

She still loved Simon Garrick.

And Oliver had been lying to her for years.

No wonder Simon's arrival had left her brother agitated.

The thought caused a sudden tempest in her chest, a rising storm of anger. Someone would pay for ruining her life, starting with her conniving brother.

She met Simon's gaze as he repeated the words that had pierced her heart like barbed arrows. "I didn't come back for you, Gwendolyn. I didn't come back because I heard you'd made a new life for yourself."

A new life!

"You thought I'd married?" He thought she spent her days loving another man, not standing on a deserted clifftop staring at a bleak sea.

He shrugged but seemed impatient to leave Mr Payne's room. "It's of no consequence now. You need to return to your bedchamber before we're found together. I have urgent matters requiring my attention."

He didn't wait for a reply but peered around the jamb and checked the corridor was clear before beckoning her to follow.

They crept from their hiding place just like they had after every passionate clinch. This time, they weren't grinning, touching, stealing one last kiss and promising to meet again tomorrow.

Uncertainty hung in the air.

"Good night." He took his eyes off her to scan the shadowed walkway. "The evening has been …"

Magical?

Heartbreaking?

"Enlightening?" she offered.

"Yes. Enlightening."

She didn't throw herself into his arms but turned away and hurried along the corridor. With the first steps came the ache of separation, a feeling that grew in intensity but quickly turned to anger.

Oliver owed her an explanation.

An explanation that could not wait until morning.

She whirled around and retraced her steps, hesitance giving way to determined strides. Hurt firing her fury.

The door to Oliver's chamber was closed, but the growl of irate voices inside confirmed he was not alone.

Despite rarely entering Oliver's private domain, Gwen gathered her confidence and barged into the room.

In the soft glow of candlelight, she saw Simon kneeling beside Oliver in bed, one hand gripping her brother's throat. Forced to ignore the sight of her brother's bare chest, she closed the door and stepped forward.

Amid their tussle, neither man heard her approach.

"Get your damn hands off me," Oliver croaked.

"You bastard! I loved her, and you damn well knew she loved me." Simon gave Oliver a backhanded slap. "I'm going to drag you out of this blasted bed and beat you as honour demands."

"I had no choice," came her brother's pathetic cry. "That witch bribed me to keep my mouth shut. Besides, Gwendolyn needs stability and security. You're too damn wild for her."

"Don't tell me what I need, Oliver."

Simon's head shot in her direction. His eyes were a cold Arctic blue. "Go back to your room, Gwendolyn."

"Don't tell her what to do," Oliver snapped.

"Be quiet, Oliver. It's too late to play the concerned brother now." She braced herself and stepped closer. "You may release him, Mr Garrick. Let him catch his breath. He'll need all his strength to pull himself out of the quagmire."

Oliver muttered an obscenity as Simon scrambled off the bed. "I knew you'd come to Westmore to cause trouble." He rubbed his jaw and stabbed his finger at the armoire. "Gwendolyn, pass me a shirt and trousers."

Gwen scowled. "You'll not move from that bed until you've explained why you lied to Mr Garrick. More importantly, why you lied to me."

Oliver fell back against the pillow, sighing like he had suppressed it for five years. "Mrs Samuel convinced us Garrick was only after your dowry. She said he'd behaved inappropriately and suggested she might be his mistress once you were married."

Gwen met Simon's gaze in the muted light. She didn't know this hard, rugged version of the man she loved. She didn't know if the wild stories about him were true. But she knew he would never abuse a servant.

"Oliver, you're an intelligent man. Did you not consider the fact Mrs Samuel had lied? By all accounts, she manipulated everyone in the household."

Oliver couldn't look her in the eye. "It was complicated."

"He was sleeping with her," Simon said, snarling with contempt. "She probably threatened to tell your father unless he did her bidding."

Gwen blinked in shock.

But Oliver was so … so upstanding.

"Is it true?" She couldn't quite believe it.

Her brother's shoulders sagged.

"Oliver! Is it true?"

"Yes, it's true."

Gwen fought back tears. "True that Mrs Samuel was your mistress or that you ruined my life to prevent Father from discovering your sordid secret?"

"Both." His face twisted in discomfort. His tone was heavy with regret. "I had to pay to get rid of her. I had a contract drawn up and gave her money. She's not permitted to come within five miles of the property, or she will forfeit all rights to the money."

Gwen staggered back. "But I—I trusted you."

All these years, Oliver had said nothing. He'd seen her distraught. Sick with heartache. He'd offered guidance. Yet he'd let her believe a lie.

Dazed, she looked at Simon. "Did you come back because you suspected treachery? Is it vengeance you seek, sir?"

Guilt passed over his handsome features. "You must understand, my work is confidential. No one must know I'm here on the King's orders."

The King?

"What poppycock!"

"It's true, Gwendolyn."

She pointed at her brother. "Does Oliver know?"

"As a peer of the realm, he has a duty to protect the Crown."

"And yet you both let me wallow in ignorance. Neither of you trusted me enough with the truth. You let me hope?—"

A rush of emotion choked her throat. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she couldn't dash them away quickly enough.

She couldn't breathe.

She needed air.

She needed to be far away from this den of deceivers.

"Many people's lives are at risk," Simon said, desperate to offer an excuse. "I cannot neglect my duty, Gwendolyn."

Oliver was about to slip out of bed but remembered he was naked and uttered a curse. "I don't want him here any more than you do, but I had no choice."

Gwen jerked, the words revealing the crux of the problem. Oliver didn't believe in love. He couldn't see the damage he'd caused. He thought her anger stemmed from his dishonesty, not because she had lost the love of her life.

She wanted to run as far away as her legs would carry her, but to waylay suspicion, she said, "I'm going to bed. I cannot think. We'll talk in the morning."

Both men let her go without question.

She didn't care if Simon broke her brother's nose.

She didn't care if they spent the rest of the night squabbling.

Even when shoving her feet into her kid boots and wrapping herself in her pelisse, she felt numb. She only realised she'd reached the garden when a snowflake landed on her nose.

The cool air nipped her cheeks, reminding her she was still alive despite feeling like a ghost of her former self. The real Gwendolyn Caldwell was trapped in time. Stuck in the woods on a picnic blanket, believing life was wonderful.

The mutter of voices dragged her from her reverie.

Determined not to listen to Oliver's pathetic excuses, she hid behind the high topiary hedge out of view. Two people passed, heading from the coastal path in the dark. It looked like Mrs Astley and Mr Payne, though the pair had likely been frolicking in the shadows, not admiring the view.

They stopped and kissed, all slobbering noises and fake groans, before returning to the house.

Well! Of all the cheek!

And this was the man Oliver would have her marry?

Anger mingled with hurt. She would rather freeze to death than return to the house and play the obedient sister. There was a cave on the beach that didn't flood during high tide. It would serve as shelter for the night while she battled her emotions.

Determined to prove a point, she raised the collar of her pelisse and thrust her hands into her muff. After quickly stopping at the orangery to collect the wool blanket from the chair, she followed the coastal path down to the beach.

Braving the icy wind, she hugged the blanket and crossed the snow-covered pebbles to stand alone on the sandy shore.

Like her temper, the sea raged, the crashing waves racing to escape the emptiness. Amid the dark desolation she spotted a few stars sparkling in the distant sky. It was the glimmer of hope she needed. A sign tomorrow might be a brighter day.

"Gwendolyn!"

Her name was but a whisper against the roaring tide. Pebbles crunched beneath booted feet, but she didn't turn around. Only one man refused to shorten her given name.

"Gwendolyn!"

He was close now, but she stared at the swell of a wave as it hurtled towards the shore.

Simon wrapped his fingers around her arm and whirled her around to face him. "What the devil are you doing out here? You'll catch your death. Good God! You might have been killed on that path."

"Go back to the house, Mr Garrick."

"Mr Garrick?" He searched her face, but she could barely look at him without feeling weepy. "You were happy to call me Simon when I touched you intimately."

It had been a mad moment of unbridled passion.

A perfect moment she would relive forever.

"Go back to the house, Simon."

"I'm not leaving without you."

She closed her eyes against the words. Memories surfaced. If only he'd waited an hour before coming to Westmore. He would have learned how much she loved him, how people were conspiring to keep them apart. He might have made the same pledge and taken her with him to France.

"If it's any consolation, your brother is nursing a bruised eye. If I didn't have to consider your feelings or the fact I'm here on the King's business, I would summon him to a dawn appointment."

She opened her eyes, tears gathering anew. "He deserves to live the rest of his life with a guilty conscience. Nothing he can say or do can make this right."

Simon brushed a lock of hair from his brow. "I'm sorry, Gwendolyn." He turned to stare out at the volatile sea. "I'm sorry I let them convince me our love was a lie."

She faced the sea, too. It was easier to speak when not dazzled by his eyes. "I'm sorry my family did this to you, to us. You thought it was me in the garden and are not to blame."

They fell silent while listening to the wind and the crashing waves. The light snowfall brought a certain magic to the scene.

"It hurts to think of what could have been," she said wistfully. "We're not the same people anymore. We might have matured together, yet now we seem worlds apart." Her throat tightened. "I don't know who you are."

"I'm a hard, cold version of my old self," he said.

Yet he had been hot and passionate in the bedchamber.

Perhaps it was his way of letting her down gently, of telling her he had changed too much to salvage anything from the wreckage. Well, she'd cling to hope a little longer.

"You are," she agreed, aware she had nothing to lose by being honest, "and much more volatile. Though when you kissed me, it felt like nothing had changed."

He inhaled sharply.

Then his hand came to rest on her back, and he drew her slowly round to face him. What she saw in his eyes was anguish, not love or lust. "I have a responsibility to the Crown and cannot allow my personal feelings to affect my investigation. I should be rooting through Lord Bancroft's personal effects, not standing in the darkness with you, consumed with thoughts of stripping off your clothes and worshipping every inch of your magnificent body."

His words did strange things to her insides.

The muscles in her core pulsed.

Every nerve sparked to life.

He wanted her.

Nothing else mattered.

She straightened, preparing to leave. This might be her only chance to steal a moment of happiness. "I know things will never be the same between us. We're different people now. But I'm sleeping in the cave tonight. You're welcome to join me."

She didn't wait for an answer but turned away and walked towards the cliff face. If he didn't follow, the loss would be heavy. A weight she would have to carry for years.

Gwen reached the pathway through the rocks leading to the craggy opening of the cave. Too scared to turn around, she entered.

One way or another, she would be a different woman tomorrow.