Chapter Three

October 26, 1819

Wynneham Hall

Surrey, England

Elliott took a deep breath as he surveyed the rolling hills that were beyond the edges of his back lawn. Truly, it was a beautiful property that he'd bought, and what was more, he felt positive this would be where he'd spend holidays or retreat to when the pressures found in London became too much. It was a damned sight closer than Derbyshire, and a larger manor house as well.

For the moment, he was tentatively looking forward to the future.

"Foxborough, will you be joining us?"

The hail from a member of the gentry he'd met at the pub in the village last night yanked him from his thoughts. He glanced over at the man who stood at the edges of a walking party set to explore the property with him.

Even still, the new title would take some time to acclimate to. "Sorry. Woolgathering. Of course I'll join." The house party began yesterday with afternoon tea. He had no idea how many people Lily had invited—for his sister hadn't discussed who'd been on the list—but already the manor's guest rooms were nearly full of a surprising mix of both male and females.

With a jauntiness to his steps that amused him, Elliott joined the party of perhaps ten people with the intent to discover what the property held. Later in the week, they'd go berry picking for any late October berries that were still hanging about as well as harvest fruit, for the property hosted both hedgerows and an orchard as well as two ponds that were rather on the larger side. Somewhere on the back lawn, there would be a bonfire built for the night of the ball, and all manner of autumnal foods and drinks would be served for guests needing to take in the air.

As plans went, he thought he and Lily had done a bang-up job. He'd come down to the property a week ahead to introduce himself to the staff as well as familiarize himself with the village. Then he informed the servants of his intentions to throw a house party and ball. The resistance he'd anticipated never came, for everyone was quite excited at the prospect of the property being in use once more. Apparently, the old owner had died without issue and without a family to speak of, so the property had languished for a few years before Elliott had bought it.

There was even a dower house located about half a mile from the manor called Applewine Cottage. In his mind's eye, he could easily see Thad and Lily making use of that cottage when they came to visit with their growing brood. When the devil had he become a family man? It was both enlightening and concerning.

Was he losing his identity now that he'd been gifted the title of earl? Was he truly planning to rusticate in the country and leave his old life behind?

It bore more thought, but not just now, yet he was on edge, for throughout the activities planned for the week, he would be expected to perform as the perfect society host as well as scrutinize the available women there to select a bride. That was the primary reason for throwing the house party and ball that followed.

Bah! Why does anything need to change?

They'd gotten perhaps a half mile or so into the walk, and Elliott was actually enjoying himself as he came to know the various people he took exercise with, when someone from behind hailed him.

The feminine voice and the way she said "Lord Aldridge" had the hairs on his nape standing at attention, for he hadn't heard that voice for years.

With knots of anxiety pulling in his gut, Elliott slowly turned about while the walking party came to a halt slightly ahead of him. "Yes?" His stomach dropped into his toes, for he couldn't believe the evidence of his own eyes. Lavinia Greenwich nee Maxwell looked nearly as she had fifteen years ago. He'd been twenty-six and she sixteen except now she had the curves of a woman with experience whereas then she'd been willowy without form. "Lavinia." It wasn't a question, for even with a bonnet covering her raven hair, it could only be her.

And she glared at him with hatred and vengeance in her eyes.

Why?

"It is good to see you again, Miss Maxwell, er rather Mrs. Greenwich." Damn, why couldn't he remember that her husband had died? His damned close friend?

"Perhaps it's good for you, but it is definitely not the same for me." She continued to glare at him, and those familiar hazel eyes were more green than brown, which meant she was under high emotion. "In fact, I would have been perfectly fine never seeing your face again."

What the devil? Why was she coming at him like a fury? "I'm sorry to hear that, but if that is indeed the case, why are you here?" She was the last person he'd expected to see, not only here but anywhere.

She frowned, but surprise reflected in her eyes. "I received an invitation to your house party."

"You did." It wasn't a question.

"Addressed to both me and Adam." The delicate tendons of her throat worked with a hard swallow. "So I decided to attend."

"Why?" Extremely aware of the audience at his back, he came toward her a few steps, so the entirety of the conversation wouldn't be overheard. "I assumed from your silence over the years, you wanted nothing more to do with me."

"My silence?" Twin spots of color blazed on her cheeks, and when the breeze blew into her, it pressed her brown brocade pelisse against her form, much to his dismay, for then he couldn't look away. Where had the damned curves come from? "I'm not the one who should have attended the funeral. I'm not the one who should have called with an apology on his lips. I'm not the one who should answer for sending my husband to an early grave!"

Well, hell. Apparently, her wounds hadn't healed either.

"Please keep your voice down," he asked with his own in a lower timbre.

"Why should I?" She planted her hands on her rounded hips. "Are you embarrassed that someone is finally confronting you for what you've done?"

"Enough." As heat went up the back of his neck, Elliott closed the distance, slipped a gloved hand about the upper portion of one of her arms, and then led her a bit away from the walking party. "I must ask why you are deliberately antagonizing me? I have done absolutely nothing to you. In fact, I haven't seen you for over fifteen years." Yet as he stood there looking down at her—she was at least several inches shorter than his five-foot eight-inch height—awareness tingled over his skin, and he hadn't had that happen for a very long time indeed.

"That is exactly the problem, Lord Aldridge."

"Actually, I am now the Earl of Foxborough in addition to Viscount Aldridge, but you may call me Foxborough." Would he ever get used to the new title?

She narrowed her gaze on him while crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "That matters not. And yes, I am aware we haven't been in each other's company for a rather extended time period, but that couldn't be helped."

"None of that explains why the devil you are here now." He raked a hand through his hair and tried to shove the familiar but foreign feelings suddenly springing up for this woman. Were they left over from before when they were both much younger, or were they for the woman she was in this moment? Just as quickly he dismissed the thought. He didn't know the woman she was now.

"Are you truly this dense or has it been applied behavior over the years?" When he would have protested against the unfair statement, she continued. "You invited me, so I came. At least in this way we can air our grievances and lay the matter to rest."

"What matter?" Either the woman was insane, or he was starting to be.

"You are the man responsible for killing my husband—your friend." One of her black eyebrows rose in challenge. "What say you to that?"

Elliott's bottom jaw dropped. "Why the hell would you say I'm responsible?" But he suspected. Oh, how he knew, because the same had haunted him for years. As a chill went down his spine, he glanced backward at the walking party. "Perhaps you should go ahead. I'll catch up."

The woman before him uttered a huff of apparent frustration. "You were the man who assigned Adam to that particular case. You had to know the risk, and because he wanted to please you, to show you he was more than capable—of everything—he took the job, only to find himself poisoned. By the time he came back home, he was already dying."

"Yet he didn't do that for years! You cannot blame me for that, and besides, every spy knows the risks. There was no way of knowing what would be waiting for him in the Bavarian region where he'd gone."

"You should have taken better care of him. He was your responsibility!"

"Yes, he was." That much was true. Elliott remembered the day when he'd handed down that assignment. Had it been a decision made from not the most sterling of motives to remove Adam, have him out of the way? Not that Elliott would have had a second chance with Lavinia at the time, for she was married by then and from all accounts, she'd truly been in love with him. Yes, he and Adam had fought over her before she'd finally chosen his friend. It had been a blow to his heart and ego, and he'd taken the snub hard, but that didn't mean he'd wanted something horrid to happen to Adam. "Truly, I didn't know he'd be poisoned." How could he? "There was no intelligence to indicate such, but the life of a spy is difficult."

"Would you have said that if it had been you in Adam's place, if it had been you who had been poisoned which had destroyed everything in your life that followed?" Anger shook through her lowered voice, but it was the tears that had sprung into her brandy-hued eyes that slammed into his chest like a blow.

"I… I don't know," he finally said as confusion swirled through his mind. Seeing Lavinia again had plunged him into the past, into the frantic morass of emotions leftover from that time, which he hadn't yet managed to square with and release.

She pulled herself up to her full petite height and dashed an escaped tear from her cheek as she renewed her glare on him. "Adam thought that by taking the assignment it was a chance to reconcile with you." A tremor went through her voice. "He wanted to please you so it might open dialogue between the two of you. Hoped to have a conversation with you upon his return, because he missed you."

Oh, God. Never did he think that this woman who'd been such an integral part of his past could manage to bring him so low. Emotions and thoughts he couldn't make sense of assailed him too quickly to be able to voice those feelings, so he once more shoved them away, hoped they would vanish. "Except he was ill when he came home."

"Yes." The delicate tendons in her throat worked with a hard swallow. "The physician attending him recognized the signs of poisoning that had apparently been going on for months. Someone close to him had slipped the poison into either his food or drinks with the intent to kill him, but why?" She shook her head. "I suppose we will never know, but I despise what the world has become, with men hating men, and country against country ever since that damned war." A sound akin to a stifled sob escaped her. "Regardless, the doctor treated him, of course, but nothing was ever the same."

Despite himself, he was curious. Logic told him to wish her well and leave her to his past, but remembering what could have been compelled him to draw her out in conversation, if only to keep her with him for a few moments longer. "Between the two of you?"

"No, our marriage was strong. It was a good, satisfying union, but I meant with his health." When she briefly bit her bottom lip, held it between her teeth as she used to do when she was a young woman, stark desire raced through his bloodstream to settle in his shaft. "Adam was weak more often than not. After the treatments from the doctor, he was never as robust as he was when he went away." A blush stained her cheeks. "We, uh, believed the reason I couldn't carry a child to full term was a result of the poison affecting his… seed." The last word was uttered in barely a whisper as she glanced away.

Well, damn. His chest ached, for he'd been caught off guard and it made him vulnerable, and above everything, he didn't like to show that. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. Adam never contacted me after coming home to tell me what he encountered while in—"

"—how could he?" she demanded as she interrupted him and sliced the air with a hand. "Adam was so sick during that time! He hardly had the strength to lift a teacup on his own. For weeks he couldn't keep anything down except dry toast and tea. I feared he would waste away, so forgive him—and me—if we didn't give your pompous arse a thought, for I was trying to heal my husband and get him back to health."

Had she always been possessed of a tart mouth and sharp tongue? Elliott couldn't remember, but damn he rather liked it on her now. Before he could form a response, she rushed into the silence.

"Finally, it appeared that he might be stabilizing after a few years. During that time, he would mention you sporadically. Adam made me promise to write you a letter as he dictated, which we started but never finished for one reason or another."

"I'm sorry to hear that; I would have been open to anything Adam had to say." If that were true, then why didn't he make an effort to write to the man or even visit?

Lavinia eyed him askance, and she was no doubt thinking the same thing. "Yes, well, at the end…"

"Yes?" One of his eyebrows rose.

Grief flitted over her face as she worked to cut off a sob that had begun to erupt into the air. "At the end, when Adam lay dying, he said he regretted being cross with you, regretted having that fight over me. He felt the loss of his close friend every day he lived, I think, even if he never talked about it."

"Dear God, I didn't know…"

"You should have!" She stifled another sob and scrubbed at the moisture on her cheeks. "Adam said he should have tried harder to reconcile when all along I knew it should have been you!" Her chest heaved from the force of her emotions. "You should have been man enough to call on him—on us—and offer an apology at the very least. It would have made my husband's last weeks that much better."

Though he wanted to comfort her, take her into his arms and hold her, tell her how sorry he was that life hadn't been what either of them had anticipated, Elliott did none of those things. Because he couldn't. A portion of his damned pride prevented him from softening, especially with the walking party watching every move he made from a good distance. Clearly, everyone was curious, and he hated being the center of attention.

Still, the heat of embarrassment rose up the back of his neck as his chest tightened and his heart constricted. Everything had been so convoluted and complicated. While he stared at her, battling his own emotions that welled in his throat, regrets waited to lay him low. "There is much I didn't know about Adam, it seems," he said in a whispered voice. "Let us discuss this in a more private setting."

"No!" Lavinia shook her head so violently her bonnet tumbled off her head to hang at her back by its ribbons as she retreated from him. "I am done talking about it, but I wanted to come here so that you would know of the part you'd played in his death. Because of you, Elliott, Adam is dead and he's never coming back." Another sob took possession of her and for a moment, he thought she might crumple to the ground, but she rallied. "I have been a widow for over a year, and the only thing I have to show for the whole of my marriage is empty arms and a desolate heart while you are apparently enjoying your lush life and privilege without regret."

Then she turned on her heel and stormed away with her chin held high.

"Damn it to hell and back." Of all the things he might have expected from the first full day of his house party, seeing Lavinia and being thoroughly dressed down by her wasn't one of them. Elliott rubbed a gloved hand along his jaw as he stared after her. The breeze clawed at her skirting, and at one point the hem fluttered up to show a glimpse of her calves above her half boots. One thing was certain, there were still some sort of feelings for that woman, but right now, what he suffered from was a mixture of pain, anger, and confusion.

What should he do? Both he and she couldn't move forward until all the hurt and stored up anger between them had been resolved. As he thought about rejoining the walking party, his conscience demanded that he continue the conversation. Waving the party off, he huffed and then went in the direction Lavinia had gone.

Damned fool woman. Why couldn't she have left him in peace so he might have the chance of forgetting her altogether? Above everything, he did not need the past coming back to haunt him… or remind him of his own failings.