As he came into view, her heart beat faster. They were to ride again. This time, her cousins, Timothy and Cariss, were included. Would he treat her differently now, she wondered. Especially after he’d made her repeat to him that she wished for him to call upon her formally. She had a very good understanding what that meant.
But Lord Rothvale appeared to be his same steady self when he came into view, riding upon Triton. Calm, intense, kind, steady—he seemed all of those things. She braced herself for his hands when he hoisted her up onto Terra’s back. Yes. His firm touch, still divine, affected her just as much as the other times.
He leaned toward her neck and whispered, “Are you well, Miss Imogene?”
“I am, Lord Rothvale. And you?”
Very deliberately, he said, “I am now.” She couldn’t help the beam she gave him back, and she couldn’t wait to talk to him again, but the riding would have to come first.
The party of six ended up at the same location as last time. Today they breeched the broken wall and entered the castle ruins. It was a magical place. One could not help but think on the inhabitants of centuries past and wonder of the people who had come and gone from this spot. After a time, they decided to dismount, exploring the stones on foot. He offered his arm and she took it, feeling his strength as he tucked her arm into his. They walked together away from the others and she was glad for the chance to be alone.
“There is something I wish to tell you. Will you hear me?” he asked.
Imogene’s stomach did a little flip. “Yes, of course.”
“I have not been completely honest with you. I have kept something—information—from you.”
“Why would you do that?” She felt suddenly sick. Was he going to tell her he was a cad, a rogue, that he had a wife, something terrible that would shatter her trust in him?
He held her arm close in to his side, firmly like he would be reluctant to let her go. “I did not wish to burden you or to push you too far, or overwhelm you.”
“But you have never made me feel like that. In fact, upon reflection, you are very comfortable to be with. Your manner is easy, and I feel safe when I am with you.”
He looked down at her, his expression softening in relief. “You have no idea how happy that makes me feel. I always want you to feel safe when you’re with me.” He squeezed her hand a little. “I know your sister’s husband. We are well acquainted.”
Imogene was confused. Was this the dark secret? “John? You know my brother-in-law, Dr. Brancroft? So why did you not say so before?”
He sighed. “There’s so much more to it and most of it is a painfully, sad business. I wished to avoid it, to spare you any connection to the ugliness of it, or for it to spark sad remembrances of your own.”
“I appreciate your honesty and consideration, my lord, but I wish to hear your story. Please tell me. I want to know.”
He nodded solemnly. “In my family I was not born the heir. I am a second son.”
“I know that already. Mr. Hargreave told me, the night of the ball.” She could tell that her knowledge surprised him.
“He did? What did he tell you?”
“Only that. He said you had become the heir after the sad loss of your older brother, giving no details, just indicating that you had borne some burdens. He said it in the way of a friend, truly, and was almost—he seemed protective of you, concerned. That is all, there is nothing more,” she told him honestly.
“Hargreave and I must ‘chat’ later I am afraid,” he said tersely. “My brother, Jasper, was the great family tragedy. He destroyed himself and my parents along with him. Weak and selfish, he was unwilling to accept his duty. The simple explanation is that he dissipated himself to death, falling in and keeping company with dishonorable people who used him. He was an opium addict, drank too much, gambled away tremendous sums of money, holding no respect for himself or for his family. Shame is what he brought to us. That is the gist of it; you do not need to hear every disgusting detail.” She looked at him calmly and stayed quiet, waiting for him to finish. “Near the end of it, Jasper grew very ill and was brought home to Gavandon. Dr. Brancroft became known to us then. He attended my brother, but the damage was too severe to bring Jasper back, most of it being the damage to his mind. The body cannot heal if the mind is unwilling.”
“Was John able to do anything for your brother?”
“Not really. Brancroft is a good doctor and a fine man. He tried his best, but nothing more could be done for Jasper and he was lost despite Brancroft’s best efforts. A shade of gloom fell over my family. The shame crushed my good father. Bad blood. Within a year his own body gave out in apoplexy. My father’s passing was sudden, but he lingered long enough to discharge the duty on to me, to take up the responsibility for everything, and for my mother and Colin, of course. Dr. Brancroft also attended my father. He made him as comfortable as possible in those dark times, and he was very kind to my mother who suffered terribly in her grief. John Brancroft is an honorable man. I do not know your sister of course, as these events happened some years ago, before he had met her, but if she is anything like you, I suspect he is blessed to have found her.” A smile was attempted, but sadness reined in his eyes.
Imogene looked into them compassionately. “What a tragic waste. I am so sorry.”
“I agree. One gigantic waste, and—” He stopped and shook his head.
“What? Please tell me.” Imogene waited. “Surely you realize that his actions do not stain you.”
“But they do.” He looked grim. “Jasper ruined everything. I hold anger and resentment against my brother. I do not forgive him for what he has done to my parents, to me, or to Colin. My brother was a selfish bastard—” Graham gave her an apologetic look. “He took and took and did nothing but take some more. I feel wrath for him, but that is my weight to bear.”
“Did you resent the duty thrust upon you?”
“I suppose, but I was really just desperate at first to find my way and to be worthy. I had not been raised for it you see, and was ill prepared when it happened, believing I would live the life of a painter. But it was not to be and the years have resolved it now. I will carry on the responsibility to my family and continue to do it to the best of my ability, for as long as I am able.” His green eyes had a cold look to them now.
“But I believe you are an honorable man. His actions don’t mark you. You shouldn’t fear the telling of your situation would alter my opinion of you. It is the same as before.”
“Truly?”
She nodded. “Truly.”
“Miss Imogene, I’ve been plagued with a bad conscience and I—I thank you for hearing all of this…repulsiveness. I am so sorry to have it touch you, I really am, but I could see no other way around it.”
Imogene drew up, making him stop in their walking. “Well, I can only offer my support and the willingness to hear anything you wish to tell me. I assure you, nothing you have said today revises that status. I am your friend.”
GRAHAM let go of her arm and took both her hands in his. He turned them palm up and stared at them. He caressed them for a moment before lifting his eyes to her beautiful brown ones, and relished her words. She would accept him, bad blood, and family skeletons and all. He knew in this moment that nothing would get in his way of having her. Not his shameful secret, and not the legacy his brother had left for him.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I hope it’s more than a friend though. Tell me it is more than friendship.” Imogene’s breathing picked up. He saw the colour on her neck and her breasts moving underneath her clothes. “Tell me it is,” he repeated the command.
She was so lovely. The flush of her skin in the clean cold air, strands of golden hair lifting in the breeze, her burgundy riding dress, the horses tethered and grazing nearby, ancient ruins crumbling behind, all coalesced into one gorgeous scene; a scene worthy of capturing. He tried to get it crammed into his head, willing the details to stick so he could remember how beautiful she looked when
she told him she did not care about the ugliness of his past or the bad blood of his family. “It is more,” she whispered and he wanted to kiss her lips right then and there but knew he couldn’t. He drew her palm up to his mouth and kissed that instead, wanting her to know she was already precious to him.
Observing propriety is a hellish existence when I want you so badly.
They continued on with their walk. As they went along, Graham felt relieved but he sensed Imogene was troubled. She grew stiff and quiet.
He felt, and then saw the transition in her, dread filling him. Pulling her to an abrupt stop, he demanded, “What is wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost.” Moving his hand up to her shoulders, he held her firmly, lowering his head to meet hers, his mind racing. “Do you regret your words of feeling toward me? Whatever it is I need you to tell me,” he finished gently.
With anguish in her eyes, Imogene shook her head and said, “I have secrets to tell as well, bad ones, worse than yours. I have done something very wrong and no one knows.”
He did not like this feeling at all—Imogene terribly upset and distraught. Seeing her in so much pain actually hurt him. Calmly, he led her to a ledge of rock that afforded a place for them to sit, providing some privacy and blocking the cool wind. Once they were seated, he gathered her hands in his and dipped his head so he could meet her eyes. “I can see you are distressed. It pains me to see you thus. Let me help. I am here for you. I will listen if you wish to speak. And if you don’t wish to tell me then I will just be here.” He reached up and stroked over a tendril of hair that had escaped her pins. He couldn’t imagine she had done anything that was very bad. How was it even possible? Seeing her tears killed him but he forced himself not to press. She needed to tell whatever it was on her own terms.
After what seemed like an age, she looked down at her hands still held in one of his and began to talk. “Do you wonder how John Brancroft became known to my family?”
“Was it because of your mother?”
“Yes. She had been ill for years. Her lungs. Despite it, she was the best mother to us. She loved us so much, and tried so very hard to get better. Such a strong will she had, brave and never complaining, determined not to leave us alone without a mother.”
Imogene struggled to tell her story. Her voice faltered and he knew it was hard for her. He just held her hand and continued to trace over the piece of hair framing her face.
“John had left the north and had come to Royal Sothington Hospital for a course of study and research, taking on patients with Mamma’s particular illness as part of his investigation into the disease. He prescribed modern treatments for my mother, believing they might help. My parents were immediately taken with him and the relationship between them grew. He became more than a doctor, he became a friend. John and my sister, Philippa, were instantly attracted to one another—it was swift and mutual between them. They fell in love, eventually marrying. John’s research study ended and the time had come to return to Gloucestershire. That time was just over a year ago from this day. John and Philippa’s wedding was the last occasion my whole family was together in joy. That day was the beginning of losing them…one by one.”
Graham felt the chill of the day seep inside him when she spoke of her pain but he couldn’t do anything but listen. He wanted to know everything about Imogene, even the painful parts of her life.
“It’s so clear in my mind. I felt miserable when Philippa left, but she was so happy with John and I was in turn happy for her. Later I realized my parents were relieved that she was settled and contentedly married to a gentleman they respected and knew could provide for her. He is a very wealthy man you know, and did not have to be a doctor for the living. He helped to found the hospital at Wellick. John is good in his heart and wants to help people and that is why he is a doctor. Papa said he would not be surprised if John received a knighthood in his lifetime.”
Graham nodded. “I know. He is all that you say.”
“My parents knew Philippa would be protected and safe—one less daughter for them to worry about.” Graham squeezed her hands, but still she kept her head down, pushing on with her story. “My mother was doing well with the treatments John prescribed, or so it seemed. She wanted to spend a lot of time with me. Upon reflection, I believe she knew she was coming to the end and wanted to use the time left in the best way, by being together. She insisted on a large party for my birthday. It was the last party for her. Mamma was firm I go to the dances and partake in the Season for my coming-out. Her disease struck hard soon after and she was unable to rally. There is nothing sinister in her passing and I accept it. She fought valiantly, but her disease was stronger and it took her. It hurts and I miss her, but know she loved me as a mother should. I am grateful she no longer suffers on earth and is at peace.”
Imogene finally looked up at Graham. Her expression just about did him in. To have someone to confide in felt freeing even if it was painful. At least he felt that way. He rubbed his thumbs back and forth over her wrists and stayed quiet. If he could touch her like this then he could be her strength.
Imogene forged on. “I tell you this only to make you understand the situation that had come to pass before the betrayal that changed everything.” She paused before taking a deep breath. “Have you heard of the gossip surrounding the death of my father, Lord Wyneham? That he took his own life and attempted to make it look like a hunting accident?”
Graham did not flinch from her question even though he loathed to hurt her. He closed his eyes for a second but nodded his head in the affirmative.
“Well, it is true. All of it. He did take his life.” The words came pouring out of her now and the tears began to surface as she threw it out in the open. “When the constables came and questioned me, I lied, saying it must have been an accident, for my father could never have done such a thing. I lied to them when they asked if he had indicated what he meant to do. Even when his sister, my Aunt Wilton, came for me, I did not tell. She does not even know that he meant to do it. In truth I have broken the law. It is a crime…a sin, what I have done. I was terribly frightened and all alone and I was so, so ashamed.”
When the words left her lips, Graham’s grip on her tensed and he felt his jaw tighten. “Why were you ashamed, chérie? His actions do not stain you.” He used the same words she had said to him.
“Oh, but they do. I was ashamed because my father did not love me enough to stay with me….” Her voice broke and tears came, but she kept going. “On that day, he gave me duties to attend to so I could not join in the hunting party. I was much put out and he knew it. He tried to comfort me, telling me he was proud of me for being a dutiful daughter and for my care of Mamma during her illness. He kissed me and said I was so strong, and he knew I would be all right. He said, ‘Find your happiness, Imogene.’ His words sounded odd at the time, but later I understood he was saying goodbye to me.”
Imogene paused for a moment like she was gathering strength to keep speaking. His heart was breaking for the pain she had endured. “Once the initial shock wore away, it was replaced by anger, betrayal, shame, and humiliation. After losing my sister and my mother, my father killed himself because he was too weak to live without her. He left me all alone knowing everyone else was already gone to me. His child. I was not important enough for him and that is the truth!” She broke, her face bearing a grimace of pain so harsh before shaking into sobs. “How could he do that to me?” Pulling her hands away from his, she covered her face and wept.
Graham was stunned for just a second before protectiveness leapt forward. He wanted to avenge her. How dare Lord Wyneham treat his daughter with so little care? Reacting instantly, he pulled her into his arms. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to stay calm and strong for her. One hand moved up to touch her hair, but mostly he just held her, letting her cry against him. Finally he spoke softly, “I don’t know how he could have done that to you. He must have been in incredible pain to consider it. I’m sure he loved you very muc
h.”
Many moments later, Imogene seemed to realize just where she was and stiffened. She was in his arms, being held by him, comforted and cherished where she belonged. He didn’t want to let her go, but he did anyway. Her face flushed as she pulled away. “I am so sorry to have imposed upon—”
He stopped her words with two fingers to her lips. “Never be sorry for telling me. You have been through so much and I grieve for the pain you have suffered in your losses, but you must listen to me now. What happened was terrible and you’ve borne a heavy burden. It was iniquitous for truth, and I hate that such a thing was laid upon you. You’ve done nothing wrong or bad. Brave is what you are—brave to bear the truth as you have done. I believe it was right to keep that secret, though. Don’t ever tell anyone else, Imogene. It’s better if you don’t. Do you understand?”
She nodded at him, her face streaked and red.
“Imogene, please know this of me—I am greatly honored you trusted me to tell of this painful, terrible thing that has happened to you. I am glad it was me you told. I hope you can understand and believe when I say, ‘You honor me.’” He bored into her eyes with his own, reaching down deep, willing her to know he meant every word.
Graham felt something open up in his heart. It was like a door opened and the wind rushed in. Was it love? Gratitude? Relief? Whatever it was, he wanted it, and he wanted more and more of it. He wanted Imogene to be with him…always.