“Marcus,” she said softly. “You have been denied years of freedom, I think you at least deserve to be angry about being forgotten.”
He nodded. “I will apologize to my brother and grandmother when we go down.”
“And hopefully to that poor woman whom I assume is your forgotten fiancée? What a way to break the news to her.” Amelia shook her head. “She deserves an apology as well.”
“And I will offer her one as soon as I have settled matters with my family.” He paused. “I didn’t even notice she was there. I do realize that she is not to blame for my change of heart. I am the one who is at fault, and I will fully accept the blame.”
“Much good it will do you if she shoots you dead,” Amelia muttered. “That’s what
I
would be thinking of doing.”
“Well, let’s pray she is more forgiving than you would be.”
Amelia rose to her feet and went over to the dressing table to peer at her reflection in the mirror. “Oh, good Lord. I look as if I walked through several hedges to get here. No wonder all the ladies were staring at me as if I was some kind of camp-following trollop.”
She glanced behind at Marcus who was still sitting in the chair. “Can you ring for some hot water? We should at least make an attempt to look respectable before we join your family again.”
Marcus slowed his footsteps as they followed the footman down the stairs. The house seemed eerily unchanged, as if nothing had been touched since he’d left. In truth, as he was the heir, nothing
should
have been touched, but it still gave the place a strange sense of having been frozen in time.
Amelia’s hand rested on his sleeve as she paced alongside him, her interested gaze everywhere. He supposed he should’ve mentioned the title before he married her, but it hadn’t seemed important at the time. It was also too late to change what had happened. He might not want the honors and responsibilities that went with his ancient name, but they would be his until he died and another inherited the earldom.
“It’s a beautiful house, Marcus,” Amelia murmured.
“I suppose it is.” He’d taken it for granted until he’d found himself locked in a stinking black underground cell where he could barely stand upright. He stumbled and almost missed the last step.
“The library is down here.” He guided Amelia across the great entrance hall and to the left. Funny how he could remember everything about the house, but very little about the war. “My grandfather wanted his study as far away from the noise of the rest of the house as possible.”
“A sensible man.”
He thanked God yet again that he’d found Amelia. Her calm voice and demeanor were the only things that were keeping his conflicting emotions in check. He’d left Stortford Hall a happy, confident young man beloved by everyone. How on earth would his family reconcile themselves to the person he’d become? A man who trusted no one and couldn’t even remember exactly what had brought him to this day.
The sooner he saw Jack and dealt with his regiment, the sooner he could make some decisions about his future. He at least hoped that whatever he decided, Amelia would stand his friend. The footman paused at the door to the library and opened if for them before stepping back. Marcus still foolishly hoped his father would be sitting at the desk, but his brother was there instead with his grandmother.
“Come in, Marcus, please.” Charlie vacated his seat in a rush and came around the desk to offer them seats closer to the fire. “And Lady Havering.”
“Please, call me Amelia.”
“I would be honored to do so. Please call me Charles.”
Marcus sat beside his wife. She slid her hand into his within the folds of her still damp skirts. He cleared his throat.
“I wish to apologize for my earlier outburst. It was wrong of me to make such assumptions within seconds of my return to this house.”
“We understand that this must be a very difficult for you,” Charlie said carefully. “It is also something of a shock to us all, so you must also forgive us if we are insensitive or too inquisitive.” He took the seat next to his grandmother. “When did you return to England?”
“A few months ago.”
Shock flashed over Charlie’s open features. “That long ago? I—” He blushed. “Forgive me. There I go again being overly curious.”
Amelia smiled at him. “Your brother lost his memory. It took him quite a while to remember who he was and where he belonged.” She glanced quickly at Marcus who nodded and then continued. “From what I understand, he was taken prisoner in Spain and held captive for several years. One has to assume that after the defeat of Napoleon, his captors realized there would be no further reason to hold him and set him free.”
“Captive?” Charlie shook his head. “We spoke to your regimental commander, and he confirmed that you had been caught in an ambush. David Rice was killed outright and Jack Llewellyn was quietly ‘decommissioned’. I tried to speak to him, but he disappeared. Even his family disowned him.”
“Don’t worry about Jack,” Marcus said grimly. “I’ll deal with him myself.”
“Then what else can we do for you?” Charlie searched Marcus’s face as if looking for any signs of the brother he’d once loved. “Obviously, this is your home and—”
“I’m not really intending to send you all packing, Charlie,” Marcus offered. “I haven’t even decided if I want to live here yet.”
“But you
must
. This is your home. This is where the Earl of Havering owns land, deals with his tenants and disperses justice. It has always been thus.”
“And you have always been more aware of that tradition than I have. Father didn’t want me going off to war. I was expected to stay at home and learn my future duties. You were the one who was supposed to go.”
Charlie blushed. “I was quite happy to leave that to you. I had no stomach for warfare. I hoped that while you were away with the army, I could learn about the estate and be of some help to you when you returned.”
Marcus wondered what his life would’ve been like if he’d obeyed his father and stayed home. One of the reasons he and Jack had become friends was because they had both rebelled against their fathers. If he’d stayed at Stortford Hall, would he now be married to his distant cousin and worried about the whereabouts of his brother instead? He couldn’t even imagine such a life anymore.
“You are the oldest son, Marcus. Whatever you might think of me, I never forgot that,” Charlie said quietly.
“I am the one who told him to find out how matters stood with our solicitors, Marcus. Charlie didn’t want to do it.”
Marcus turned his attention to his grandmother who looked exactly the same as before he’d left to join the army. Her blue eyes were bright and her chin was held at a challenging angle that reminded him of Amelia.
“Charlie was quite happy to run the estate in your absence forever. I didn’t think that was fair.”
“So you gave up searching for me and concentrated on training my replacement?” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “How very sensible of you.”
“We didn’t give up. The War Office told us quite categorically that you were dead. During his trial, Jack Llewellyn said he saw you fall from your horse during the ambush.”
“Jack was
court marshaled
?”
“There was some military court involved,” the dowager countess said. “I should imagine his father, the duke, used his influence to prevent any negative information leaking out. We only knew about it because I asked an old army acquaintance of mine to find out the details.”
“What was Jack accused of?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Why does it matter?”
“Because…” Marcus looked helplessly at Amelia who was listening intently. “I always assumed Jack came home and lived happily ever after.”
“Hardly,” Charlie said. “He was disowned and disinherited by his father and the last I heard he had to work for his living as a nurse for wounded soldiers.”
Marcus struggled to take that information in. If Jack had already been punished for his crimes against his fellow soldiers, why hadn’t the Duke of Diable Delamere mentioned it? Not that he’d given the man much chance to speak in Jack’s defense…
“I’m sure that if you contact the head of your regiment, you will be able to find out exactly what happened to him,” Charlie said. “Have you decided to resign your commission as well?”
Marcus stared at Charlie. “I don’t consider myself fit to be a soldier anymore. I certainly intend to resign, although I should imagine my rank and position was filled long ago.”
Charlie sat forward. “Then you will at least come home until everything is sorted out?”
“I suppose so.” Marcus managed to smile. “I have nowhere else to go.” He swallowed hard. “Does father, I mean, do we still have a townhouse in London?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then perhaps it might be better if I went there and conducted my business with the regiment and the authorities first.”
Charlie’s face fell, and he glanced at the dowager. “The house isn’t staffed at present. It might take a few days to organize and open the rooms up. If that’s really what you want to do. It is your house after all.” He hesitated. “We were hoping you would stay here for a while.”
“We would be delighted to wait here until the house can be staffed, won’t we, Marcus?” Amelia said squeezing his hand. “It will give you time to reacquaint yourself with the estate and your family.”
It appeared his desire to leave and hunt down Jack was being thwarted at every turn even by his wife. He’d waited years for his revenge. He could wait another week or so.
He managed a smile. “Yes, that would be delightful.”
Leaving Marcus sleeping in the opulent surroundings of the blue guest bedroom, Amelia descended the stairs and was directed by a footman into a small breakfast room at the back of the house with a view over the garden. It was quite thrilling to be in a grand house again with servants to wait on her every whim. She’d never imagined a time when such a life would be hers again, and now here she was, a countess and the wife of a man who owned thousands of acres of Hertfordshire.
It was almost amusing.
The only other occupant of the room was the lady Amelia had seen at the dinner table the night before. She was probably in her late twenties; the same age as Amelia, and dressed with quiet good taste. Her brown hair was braided in a coronet on top of her head in a regal fashion, which suited her.
“Good morning.” Amelia offered a warm smile. “I don’t believe we were properly introduced last night. “I’m Amelia, Marcus’s wife.”
“And I’m his betrothed, Felicity Marcham. Did Marcus not mention that he was already promised to another?”
Amelia paused, caught between amusement at such a blunt reply and respect for the woman who challenged her. There were no servants in the room so she felt no compunction in replying in kind.
“He did mention it, but he insisted that the marriage was arranged by his father when you were both rather young, and that neither of you wanted it.”
Miss Marcham raised her chin. “Contracts were signed; my dowry was handed over to the estate. I believe if I went to a solicitor at law, he would quite happily prosecute Marcus for breach of promise.”
“I’m sure he would.” Amelia loaded her plate with food and took the seat next to Miss Marcham. “Do you love him?”
“That is none of your business.”
“That’s true, but I’m trying to understand the situation. It is obviously easy for Marcus to insist that you were always more like brother and sister because it persuaded me that it would be all right to marry him instead.”
Miss Marcham snorted. “I doubt you needed much persuading.”
“I beg your pardon?”
This time Amelia detected a definite sneer.
“From what Charlie told me, you followed the army baggage train.”
“I did, but I don’t understand what that has to do with me marrying Marcus.”
“Women like you,
camp followers,
will always find a way to survive. Did you persuade him to marry you when he was drunk, incapacitated, or wounded?”
Amelia held onto her temper with what she considered admirable restraint. “Actually, I didn’t meet Marcus until he turned up in my village. I had already returned to England as a widow.”
“Where you were obviously on the hunt for another man to take care of you.”
Amelia raised her chin. “I do hate to contradict you, but that wasn’t what happened. I found Marcus unconscious in the village street and brought him home to nurse him.”
“And took advantage of his weakened state.”
“Miss Marcham, you’ve known Marcus for years. Do you really think any woman could take advantage of him? He is quite formidable.” Amelia gathered the shreds of her temper. “I didn’t come here to argue about how or why I ended up agreeing to marry your betrothed. I just wanted to hear your side of the story. In truth, you have said many unpleasant things about my character and desires and yet expressed no emotion about Marcus, the man you were betrothed to.”
Miss Marcham raised her eyebrows. “What does marriage have to do with emotion? I was promised to him at a young age. I have waited patiently for him to return to me beyond all hope and expectation. Am I not entitled to be angry when you turn up instead?”
“One might think that your first sentiment would be relief that he didn’t die.” Amelia held her companion’s gaze. “If you loved him, that is.”
There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Amelia looked up to find Charles Stortford framed in the doorway. With a stifled sound, Miss Marcham rose to her feet.
“Excuse me.”
She pushed past Charles and left the room, leaving Amelia facing her brother-in-law.
“I do apologize, Charles. I don’t normally pick fights over the breakfast table.” Amelia grimaced. “You must think very badly of me.”
“I don’t think you were the only one fighting.” He came more fully into the room and sat opposite Amelia before helping himself to coffee from the tall silver pot on the table. “Felicity can be rather forthright at times.”
Amelia said nothing to that. She’d already upset one member of Marcus’s family and had no intention of ending up at odds with his brother. She knew how it felt to be estranged from one’s relatives and would do everything in her power to make sure Marcus was given every opportunity to heal the wounds within his family.