Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] (26 page)

A coal in the grate sputtered then flared. Gwyn stirred and slowly opened her eyes. She saw the figure in the chair facing hers. She gave a start of alarm, but her fear subsided when she recognized him.

“Jason,” she said, stretching her cramped muscles, “we expected you home hours ago.” As she came to herself, she sat up in her chair. “Did you see Richard
Maitland? And Mr. Armstrong? What did they have to say?”

“I didn’t see Maitland or Armstrong. They were both out of town.”

“Then we’re no further ahead.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He took a fortifying swallow of brandy. “I went to Lambourn to see Samuel Barrie. I thought he might know something that could help us, or that he might know something about the legacy.”

Every sound in that room faded away. Nothing stirred. It was as if they were trapped in a picture, forever frozen in place. When she could think again, she shrank into the folds of her dressing gown. It never occurred to her to upbraid him for spying on her. She was aware of the harsh tension that gripped his features; she’d heard the coldness in his voice.
He knows
, she thought wildly.
He’s worked everything out
, and stark fear shivered along her spine.

He saw the flare of fear in her eyes, saw the way her fingers plucked at her dressing gown, and he made a considerable effort to appear more relaxed. He didn’t want to frighten or shame her. All he wanted was the truth, then they would go on from there.

“Gwyn,” he spoke quietly and without heat, “did Samuel Barrie ever try to touch you? I think you know what I mean.”

She felt as though she’d been reprieved. “He tried, but he didn’t succeed.” When his eyes narrowed on her, she said quickly, “I kept a pistol by my bed and I know how to use it. I made him keep his distance.”

The images her words evoked made him wish he’d killed Barrie when he’d had the chance.

She was watching him warily, trying to gauge his mood. She couldn’t make him out, but she knew how she felt. She wished she were anywhere but in this
room with Jason. She had to say something if only to break the silence.

“Did Samuel know anything about the legacy?”

“I never got round to asking him. You see, he told me things that put every other thought out of my mind.”

She looked into his eyes and read his complete knowledge of all her lies. Her throat worked. The breath she exhaled was very close to a sob.

“Do you know what he told me, Gwyn?”

Her eyes were trapped by his, and she couldn’t look away. She lifted her chin. “Yes,” she whispered.

He sat back in his chair. “I never understood how you could have eloped with Barrie so soon after George died, but now it all makes sense. You were pregnant and you were desperate, weren’t you, Gwyn? So you married Barrie knowing that you carried another man’s child. Oh, Gwyn, why didn’t you come to me?”

“That’s not true,” she cried. “When I married Nigel, I didn’t know I was carrying your child. I never would have married Nigel or any man if I’d known.”

Such a look blazed in his eyes that she flinched. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t know. I knew I was unwell. I thought it was nerves. So did Nigel. But the doctor suspected that I was pregnant. He didn’t know Nigel and I were just married. It was too late, don’t you see? We were on the boat taking us to Lisbon. It was too late. It was too late.”

Before she had finished speaking, he got to his feet. She felt a rush of fear and instinctively rose to face him. The shadowy figure who loomed over her looked like a stranger. Her eyes strayed to the door.

In a low driven tone, he said, “What are you saying? Who is Mark’s father, Gwyn? Who?”

She swallowed hard. “I thought you knew.”

Fingers like steel talons closed around her arms. “It was George, wasn’t it? Tell me! I have a right to know.”

She stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. When he shook her roughly, her own resentment began to stir. After all that had happened, she didn’t deserve this, and George didn’t deserve it either. She wrenched herself free of his grasp, but she didn’t retreat. If he was angry, so was she, and she had more right.

Her eyes glittered with emotions she’d held too long in check. “What’s the matter, Jason? Don’t you remember? No, I don’t suppose you do. What’s one more woman in your long line of conquests? You took me and you didn’t even know who I was.”

He shook his head, his eyes staring at her with a burning intensity. “That can’t be true. You’re the one woman I
would
know.”

She’d always told herself that she didn’t blame Jason for what happened that night, but she saw now that she’d lied to herself. If he’d come to her in the dark, she would have known him instantly. After that night, her whole life had been turned upside down, but not his. She’d eloped and he hadn’t come after her. He’d never written to her or tried to see her, not until someone settled a legacy on her. She’d hoped, oh how she’d hoped, in those first few weeks, but when all her hopes died, she’d married Nigel and tried to make the best of it.

And how she’d been made to suffer! But she’d persevered. For her son’s sake, she persevered. And there was no one there to help her. No one.

A well of bitterness rose up and spilled over in ugly, furious words. “Maybe this will help you. Think of the night George died. You left the house, and I went looking for you. I found you in the fishermen’s hut on the beach. I thought you recognized me, but I
was wrong. You called me by another woman’s name.” Though her voice cracked, she wasn’t done yet, not nearly done, and she went on furiously, “But maybe you don’t remember that night? Maybe you’re so used to such nights that you can’t be expected to remember them all. Don’t worry, Jason, I’m not asking you for anything. I never have and I never shall.”

She wasn’t prepared for the effect her words would have. He put a hand to his brow, staggered, then turned away to get himself another drink.

With his back to her, he said, “God help me, I don’t remember. I can’t remember. I have only a vague recollection of that night. So much happened. So much was going on.”

He couldn’t have found a better weapon to hurt her. He still couldn’t remember that night, not even after she’d told him about it. It was too much. Suddenly, it was all too much. Choking back a sob, she ran from the room.

Jason turned abruptly when he heard the door click shut. He stared at that closed door for a long time, his thoughts, his feelings, his memories in total confusion. Nothing made sense. Everything in him rejected the idea that he could have taken the one woman who had ever mattered to him, thinking she was someone else.

Without conscious thought, he crossed to the fire, rested one hand on the mantel and stared into the dying coals. Slowly, deliberately, he cast his mind back, and tried to bring that night into focus.

He’d wanted to be alone, he remembered, but various friends kept seeking him out to offer their condolences and to talk. There was some woman in particular, he couldn’t recall her name, who’d refused to be shaken off. So, crippled with grief and despair, and very much the worse for drink, he’d fled from the house to find a haven where no one could find him.

But someone did find him.

Jason closed his eyes as the memory began to take shape. He’d been sleeping, dreaming that Gwyn was calling to him, when the woman found him. He’d had too much to drink and his head was aching. In the next instant, he remembered the accident, that George was dead, and the jagged edge of grief twisted inside him, leaving despair and hopelessness in its wake. But she was there, the woman he couldn’t shake off.
Leigh
, that was her name, Leigh Granger. She always talked too much, and her only subject of conversation was herself. He couldn’t remember now who had invited her to Haddo, but he knew that he hadn’t. He couldn’t stand the woman.

He remembered thinking he’d misjudged her. She really did seem to understand what he was suffering. She didn’t say much, but when she put her arms around him, the pain became a little easier to bear.

What happened next was inevitable, given the circumstances, and given the fact that the woman was willing, or he thought she was willing. But if the woman was Gwyn …

He bolted his drink, set his glass down with enough force to crack it, and went after her.

When Gwyn entered her own chamber, she threw herself on the bed and curled into a ball. The fire was out and there were no candles lit, but the blanketing darkness was exactly what she wanted. Some things should never be brought into the light. Some memories were too painful to remember. And some truths were too close to the bone to bear.

All these years she’d put herself on a pedestal, thinking she was brave and able to handle all the hard knocks that life had inflicted on her. But her performance in the library had opened her eyes to
the truth. There was so much bitterness locked inside her, so much hurt pride and misplaced anger. Jason hadn’t tried to hurt her, not then or now. But she had tried to hurt him. And she’d succeeded.

She really didn’t like herself at all.

She was lying quietly, worrying about what the future would bring now that Jason knew Mark was his son, when Jason said her name on the other side of the door.

“Go away,” she said in a fierce whisper. She wasn’t ready to face him yet.

Either he didn’t hear or he wasn’t in the mood to listen. When the door began to open, she quickly sat up and scrubbed her face with the sleeve of her dressing gown. He had a candle in his hand and the shadows it carved on his face made her catch her breath. He was in the grip of some powerful emotion he was struggling to overcome.

“We can’t leave it like this,” he said. “You must see that.”

She watched him deposit the candle on top of the dresser. When he approached the bed, she involuntarily inched away. It did not save her. He reached for her and lifted her clear off the bed, with her face to the light. When she winced, he released her and thrust his hands behind his back as though he were afraid to touch her, and when she rubbed her arms where his fingers had dug into her flesh, he moved away, putting some distance between them.

His voice was deep and harsh, his breathing was strained. “I must know the truth. Was it you who came to me that night, Gwyn?”

She looked directly into his eyes. “Yes.”

A look of pain crossed his face. “And I forced myself on you?”

Shocked, she cried out, “No! I never said such a thing or even implied it.”

He seemed confused. “Then what are you saying? I don’t understand. What exactly happened that night?”

“I told you. You thought I was someone else.”

“But when you pushed me away, struggled—”

“I didn’t push you away.” She swallowed tears, impatient now to make amends for making him think he’d taken her against her will. “Listen to me, Jason. You’re not to blame. I’m sorry I said those spiteful things, but they’re not true. It was more my fault than yours. I thought you knew who I was, but you didn’t.”

“No, but I should have known. You were an innocent young girl, and I made no allowance for your innocence.”

He was absently fingering the objects on top of her dressing table,. His fingers suddenly stilled on the handle of her hairbrush, then his eyes jerked up to meet hers. “You didn’t push me away or struggle?”

She tried to drag her eyes from his, but he wouldn’t allow it. “No,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

Her chest felt as though it were collapsing and she used the heel of one hand to massage the hollow between her breasts. “Because I wanted you to make love to me.”

There was a sudden and absolute silence. She knew the exact moment enlightenment dawned. The tension across his shoulders seemed to relax. He left her dressing table and came to stand in front of her.

His eyes searched hers. “Why?”

She felt trapped, like a caged animal. “You never used to be so dense. I was in love with you, of course. Wasn’t every young woman?”

His response to these words was to fold his arms across his chest and study her as though she were a pawn that had just captured his queen in a game of chess. Gradually, his expression gave way to an odd
mixture of gravity and humor. “You know, I always suspected you were. But that last year, you convinced me you were in love with George.”

That grave-eyed humor set her teeth on edge. “I did love George.” She checked herself. Her annoyance was showing and she wanted to appear calm and collected. “I did love George, but not in the same way. That’s all over and done with now, Jason. We must put it behind us.”

He smiled at this. “It’s all over and done with?”

She nodded.

“Then how do you explain what happened between us in Sackville’s house, hmm? Gwyn, I almost made love to you, and I would have if Brandon hadn’t interrupted us. And you would have let me.”

An annoying blush crept into her cheeks, but she kept her voice steady. “I can’t explain it.”

“Now who’s being dense?” The humor in his eyes was muted, but it was still there. “And,” he said, “how do you explain what happened in my house in Marylebone? Once again, we were saved by Brandon.”