Five

Zachary

15 July 1815

“Jax!” Hunter entered the parlor before the butler could even announce his presence followed closely behind by Lucas.

Jaxon slowly stood to his feet and, while there were flickers of remembrance, I watched as an unfamiliar Jaxon received his mates. Hunter grabbed him and embraced him tightly and, though Jaxon seemed to allow the exuberant embrace, he appeared slow to return it. I should have warned the men. Lucas seemed to acknowledge his friend’s reservations and just reached out to shake his hand.

We all sat down and, in that one moment, a spark of surrealism flashed before me. This was the first time the four of us had been together in three years. So much had changed in that time. Lucas and Hunter both married and I, well I couldn’t say much in my favor, but the best news of all centered around Jaxon’s return.

In addition to the headaches and slow memory, Jaxon’s neck bore a significant scar with additional marks on his wrists and ankles, almost as if he’d been tortured at one point. But he either had no recollection of such a deed or chose not to disclose it. His dark wavy hair covered the mark from his head wound.

Jaxon’s older brother, Griffin, was preparing to wed and Jaxon and I had only resided at the family’s country estate, Hartley House, for two days when his mother recognized the pressure her son was under trying to remember his former life. It was she who suggested, in the most compassionate way, that I bring him back to London while Griffin, their parents, and younger sisters, Lucy and Hannah, remained at Hartley House. Since he had spent a great deal of time here, she hoped that the home in Town would provide a safe place for him to begin his recovery.

Jaxon’s father, the Duke of Camberley, never did anything in halves. Their home in Mayfair exhibited an exquisite colonnaded facade, stunning architecture, breathtaking landscape, and unparalleled décor, along with a full staff who waited upon just the two of us.

Mrs. Trent stood at the doorway. “I will get tea, my lord.”

Though the four of us engaged in small talk, both Hunter and Lucas recognized almost immediately that the Jaxon who sat before us appeared vastly different than the one we had known prior to our separation years ago.

“I cannot believe you were so close when Zach and I searched for you.” Hunter leaned back against the sofa and crossed his ankle over a knee. “Though I am most grateful you were found by good people,” he added.

Shortly before Jaxon and I boarded a ship bound for Britain, I had sent both Lucas and Hunter a brief summary of the events by letter, but I had never mentioned the fact that he had been found in the uniform of a French soldier. I imagine there were questions, seeing how we reunited at Waterloo, but this was a subject for another day. And since that first day and as Jaxon’s identity evolved, he has intimated a torment over the possibility that he may have taken the lives of British soldiers a time or two; a fear he kept decidedly close to the vest.

“Are you remembering more and more each day?” Lucas asked.

Jaxon leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Yes, almost too much at once. While in France, nothing seemed familiar, nothing helped me to remember my former life. Then I saw Zachary, and all of a sudden, something sparked. At first, it was pent up rage, then bits and pieces emerged. When I set foot on English soil, everything changed. I could barely keep up with the flood of recollections that came.”

“What has your doctor said about the head pain? Does it continue?”

“Yes, but it’s not as dreadful as before. He says he’s hopeful of my recovery, but I must continue to take things slow.”

“No soirees, balls, riding your horse?” Hunter asked.

“Not yet,” Jaxon had a ghost of a smile. His growing comfortability with the men eased my concerns while the four of us visited.

“Must be tough for your nursemaid, here,” Lucas jested pointing to me.

I smirked in response. “I don’t always have to be out in society…”

He shot me an arched brow.

“Fine, I go out a couple of times a week, but only because Jaxon insists.”

Lucas stared at me for several seconds. His expression turned to one of confusion.

“I am careful, Luke. Do not fret, I make sure to avoid being alone with a woman in dark corners.”

His head tilted a bit, and his eyebrows scrunched. “Have you not heard?”

“Heard what?” I crossed my ankles and settled back into my chair, lifting a glass of brandy to my lips.

“Eveline’s husband passed away.”

I froze with the glass at my lips while every eye in the room stared at me. Then the world spun as if somehow my spirit separated from my body and floated above, watching the scene play out below me. What did Luke just say ? I slowly replaced the tumbler to the table before me and leaned forward. “Sir Colin is dead?”

“Yes.” Lucas tented his hands in front of his lips and tapped lightly. “He passed away in April and was buried in the West Indies.”

“Four months ago?” My heart thumped in a short rapid rhythm.

“I would have thought you knew, seeing as you both are here in London.” Lucas stared. “Have you not seen her at all?”

I heard Lucas’ words, but my mind spun chaotically elsewhere. Had I brought this fate upon her? A thin layer of sweat built upon my nose. I reached for my drink once more and rapidly swallowed the contents. How many times had I insensitively wished for such a fate? My mind flooded with thoughts, reprimands, remorse, and guilt. Crushing guilt.

“Zach?” Hunter called.

I stood and filled my glass once more and swallowed it nearly as quickly as the first. Had I somehow caused this? The number of times I wished for this very thing to happen reached innumerable heights. Was I to blame?

“Zach.” Hunter now shook my shoulder. “Are you well?”

I turned and faced my friends. Could they see my shame? “I didn’t know he passed,” I whispered.

“You should go see her,” Lucas suggested.

I breathed through my nose as an image of Evie transpired before me; the one where we walked together at Vauxhall when her mother and sister left us alone to see the Turkish Tent in the Spring Gardens.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “I’ve missed my best friend.”

When I turned my head in her direction, this brought her face mere inches away.

Eveline tugged me to a stop. “You appear weary, Zach.” She brushed her finger across my forehead and down my cheek. “You have dark circles under your eyes and the light in your eyes has disappeared.”

Though what I knew of Eveline’s character was that, unlike other women I tarried with, she did not tease with intent. Her touches and proximity came with true kindness, but the effect was the same.

I swallowed hard.

Scanning the contours of her face, I cherished everything about her. The way her deep brown eyes appeared darker framed by her black eyelashes, the freckle beneath her right eye that seemed so misplaced it was often described by her mother as a beauty mark, but Evie despised it. The small dimple in her left cheek that only appeared when she laughed. It had become a game of mine to get it to surface. And that smile. When genuinely offered, it had the power to weaken even the strongest of men.

My body hypnotically leaned forward, barely a breath from her lips, and, in an instant, I felt a hand press against my chest, halting my movement.

Devil, take it! What was I doing?

“Tell me about your search for Lord Jaxon, Zach.”

She didn’t bring attention to my offense and thwarted it precisely how I expected her to. The woman was a paragon of integrity and would honor her marriage regardless of how lonely she was.

Of course, had I kissed her, I would have enjoyed every second of it until we parted, then I would have been plagued with regret for encouraging her to be unfaithful to her fool of a husband.

No! I shook my head from the memory. One thing I knew for certain is that I needed to stay far away from Evie. I lured her into almost being unfaithful to him… her husband, who is now dead.

“Zach?” Lucas called as if he had repeated my name multiple times.

I blinked. “Yes?”

“She is our friend, Zach,” Lucas said. One of his eyebrows arched. “At the very least you should pay your respects.”

“Um, well,” I swallowed the large lump in my throat and poured a third glass of liquor. “What say you we meet at Brooks’s tomorrow afternoon?” I licked my dry lips before I emptied the fresh glass. “Jaxon’s doctor is coming soon to perform an examination.” I peered over at my friends, hoping they couldn’t read through my blatant bouncer.

Hunter and Lucas shared confusing expressions but stood to their feet as the gentlemen they were. Jaxon knew I stretched the truth but remained silent. His doctor will not be here until later this evening. I hoped he understood that I only needed time to process this news about Eveline and didn’t wish for my emotions to be on display.

I walked the men out to the foyer. “Thank you for coming. The more often we meet the better Jaxon will be, I’m certain of it.”

Lucas leaned in as he reached for his hat. “Zach, there’s more we need to speak of. Send word of when you are available so we can speak privately.”

I arched my brow. “It is generally me who sets the stage for mystery and secrecy.”

“I can tell you this much,” he sighed. “Eveline’s situation is far from what you or I believed.”

What did he mean by that?

I clenched my teeth. I knew straightaway I would not pursue an opportunity to learn more about this dreadful circumstance I brought upon Evie.

After the men departed, I met Jaxon at the base of the stairs before he returned to his bedchamber.

He studied my face. He did this quite often and since it seemed to help him remember a little more each day, it didn’t bother me one bit.

“Eveline Brown?” he inquired.

“Yes. Well, Eveline Turner now.”

“Your childhood friend.”

“Yes,” I repeated.

“You’re in love with her.” His statement wasn’t a question.

“I, uh.” Running a hand through my hair, I shifted weight to my other foot. I never had the correct response to this.

He smiled faintly. “It seems I am not the only one that must search for answers.” He chuckled for the first time I had heard since we reunited then turned away and ascended to his bedchamber.

I stared at the vacant stairs for a long time before I maneuvered my way through the house and outside to the extravagant gardens. The frustration I harbored needed to be freed and I hoped the fresh air might help.

How did things become so fractious with Evie? We were inseparable in our childhood and youth, shared endless secrets, and adventures; and though I never said it aloud, I hoped one day I might be the man worthy of her hand.

I strode past the chocolate mint shrubs and the fragrant lilac blooms, threading through the endless rows of rose bushes toward a lone bench.

As I took a seat, I recalled the numerous times I had wished for Evie’s idiot of a husband to die.

And he did!

Somehow, I felt certain that I had brought this fate upon her. Four months. Where did she live? What became of her? Was she in dire straits? Did he leave her in a suitable situation? Unlike her father who left the three women to fend for themselves. Yet, from what I had seen of the contract between Eveline and Sir Colin from the Bow Street Runner, she should want for nothing.

I chastised myself repeatedly when I left to fight in the battle on the peninsula without revealing my true feelings for her. Would she have waited? I could have saved her from the constant heartache she faced, but truly, in the end, I knew I caused a significant portion of said heartache.

The night before I was due to report, we spent the evening together at Cornelius. She sat on the lowest limb, a thick bough that extended mere inches off the ground. It was a perfect branch to sit upon comfortably as her feet dangled down, brushing the tips of her half boots above the long grass. She wore a pale pink dress and no bonnet, allowing several reddish-brown strands to break free from her chignon—an aspect I adored.

I presumed her sentiments for me had intensified, but I feared disappointing her. I had wasted an immeasurable amount of time with the senseless women of the ton and did not know how to undo such recklessness and express myself truthfully that night.

I was a complete fool for leaving words unsaid only to return two years later to discover her married.

I didn’t know her father would die and leave them in desperate circumstances, but this, this latest development? I wanted her husband dead. He was never there for her, spending most of his time abroad. He never cherished, respected, or loved her. After my hired Bow Street Runner shared substantial details with me of what he ascertained about Sir Colin and his double life in the Indies, including a lover named Deshane, I wanted to run the man though myself.

Did I dare face her knowing I had wished such a horrible fate upon her?