Lord Maxwell’s Quest, page 24
The clock in the foyer chimed.
“We’ll discuss this when I return. I have a meeting with my solicitors. I should only be gone a fortnight at the most.”
As his trunks were already packed and loaded onto his carriage, Tristan stomped out of the parlor and prayed that his wife would come to her senses before he returned.
Except, when he returned home, she was already gone. Having defied him, Elaina and the children sailed for France the day after his departure to London.
She never returned.
* * *
ONE
London, May, 1815
Tristan Trent should have never brought his sister, Sophia DeMitri, Contessa Scala, with him to London. On further thought, he should have just sent one of his brothers and remained back in Cornwall where he was most comfortable. Instead, they’d all come, save Maxwell who was on a quest in another part of the world. They’d delivered a package that had been mistakenly delivered to Hopkins Manor and meant for the other Trent family, a distant relation. Now Tristan was stuck in Town because Sophia insisted that they all partake in what remained of the Season. However, since Sophia’s pronouncement, Tristan had been abandoned by his brothers: Gideon off to Scotland, Harrison to the sea and Jamie to the horses, leaving him with only his sister, who was determined to see Tristan marry again.
As soon as the house was opened in Mayfair, the invitations had piled up on his desk at an alarming rate. While he would have happily seen them tossed in the fire, Sophia had gleefully gone through each and determined what they’d attend. His family being in Town was a novelty, of that Tristan was aware. He’d rarely enjoyed the Season when he was younger. After he and Elaina married, their visits had been short in duration, not the weeks others attended. Once Elaina was gone, Tristan saw no purpose to coming to Town and found a new solicitor closer to his estate.
“I really wish you would try to enjoy yourself,” Sophia complained from across the carriage.
At her insistence, they were once again on their way to a ball. Tristin had lost count of how many she’d dragged him to since their arrival and he couldn’t wait for there to be an end. “I don’t see that it’s necessary we attend every function for which we receive an invitation.”
“I quite agree,” Raphael, Conte Scala said from his seat beside his wife. “I wouldn’t mind an evening of nothing but brandy and a good book.”
“Of course, dear, but we didn’t bring any fine brandy with us, but left it in Cornwall,” Sophia argued. “Besides, I didn’t accept every invitation.”
Sophia and Scala lived in Italy, where she’d discovered the art of fine wines and developed a taste for French brandy. This was the first time she’d been back to England in nearly seven years and Tristan didn’t know how long the visit would last. That was the only reason he accompanied her about London, though not without complaint.
“The brandy your brother has in his Townhouse will do well enough,” Scala acknowledged.
“You accepted far more invitations than necessary,” Tristan grumbled.
“I promise that we can all remain in tomorrow and sip brandy if you wish, but tonight is the most important ball yet.”
Tristan and Rafe studied Sophia, who had been on edge with excitement since this afternoon.
“Why?” he finally asked.
“The ball is being given by Mr. and Mrs. Weston.”
The name meant nothing to him, and Tristan slid a look to Rafe who merely shrugged.
Sophia blew out a sigh. “The parents of one of my dearest friends, Eliza Weston.”
“Oh, good God!” He remembered Eliza from when Sophia was a child, and their other friend, Rosemary Fairview. The three were always getting themselves into trouble at the Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies. He was surprised that they hadn’t been sent down. Had he done half of the things at Eton that those three had gotten away with at Wiggons’, he would have been expelled.
“I haven’t seen Eliza in an age and received word this afternoon that she is in Town and will be in attendance.”
“Well, try not to land yourself in any trouble, will you.” Tristan chuckled.
Sophia grinned. “As Rosemary will be there as well, I cannot make any promises.”
Tristan groaned. All three of them. As his sister was likely to be entertained by her friends, there was really no need for him to attend. Then again, it would be the one night that she’d hopefully be too busy to point out potential wives to him, so there was that. It might be the only ball where he had peace from his sister’s matchmaking.
“Miss Fairview?” Scala questioned. “Has she returned from her travels?”
Happiness lit in Sophia’s eyes. “Yes, she arrived in Town yesterday. This will be the first time the three of us have been together since before I left England.”
“You’ve not seen them since?” Tristan asked.
“I’ve seen them individually, of course, as they travel frequently, but the three of us have not been together since before I married.”
“Have they married?” Tristan asked. “Please tell me that they have husbands to keep them out of trouble.”
At that, Sophia frowned. “A lady does not need a gentleman to play nursery maid.” With a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest. “And, neither have married. They have no wish to relinquish the freedom they now possess.”
“What kind of freedom do they need, exactly?”
“Rosemary has followed in her parents’ footsteps by traveling the world. She quite enjoys hunting for antiquities.”
“Alone?” Women should not be allowed to travel without a male escort because sometimes they didn’t come back.
“She travels with others who are of like minds. I believe she and Maxwell have crossed paths on a number of occasions.”
Currently their brother, Maxwell was somewhere in Israel. Or, that was the last Tristan had heard. Every time his brother claimed that he was going to try and come home for a visit, something more pressing occurred keeping him away. Max was supposed to be here for Sophia’s homecoming and was unable to make the trip.
“Where has Eliza been, if she is not married or living with her parents.”
Sophia grinned. “She’s a famous novelist and travels for inspiration.”
“Her last novel regarding a mummy’s curse was quite enjoyable,” Rafe offered.
“Don’t tell me, it’s not because of…”
“The Mayfair mummy did inspire the story,” Sophia confirmed. “Really Tristan, I’m surprised at your reaction. You were never one to tell Elaina what to do, and she traveled without you.”
Tristan speared her with a hard look. “Yes, and because of it, she was lost at sea.” He never told anyone of the argument before Elaina left, and if a servant had overheard, they’d not gossiped. As far as the world, or at least his family was concerned, Tristan had sent Elaina and the children off to France with his blessing to visit her grandmother one last time.
The color drained form Sophia’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean tha…I’m sorry Tristan, but it wasn’t your fault. It was a storm.”
“I should have been with her.” He pounded a fist against the side of the carriage. Why hadn’t he just gone with her? He could have taken the time away from his estates and accompanied Elaina for one last visit with her grandmother, but he’d been too stubborn. Perhaps he could have saved her had he gone.
“Then you’d be dead as well,” Sophia argued.
Dead! He hated that word and had yet been able to admit that Elaina was indeed dead. Maybe it was because there was no body, even though it would have been impossible to have survived being swept over the side of a ship. In his heart, she was still alive and lost somewhere, despite evidence to the contrary.
“You don’t know that I may have perished. Instead, I could have saved her. The children survived, the maids survived, and I should have been there to save my wife.”
“Tristan,” Sophia reached across the carriage and took his hand. “You must quit punishing yourself.”
“I should have protected her.”
“Is that why you live like a hermit in Cornwall?” Sophia blew out. “Is it to punish yourself because I know Harrison will never forgive himself?”
“It’s not Harrison’s fault,” Tristan insisted. His brother didn’t know that Tristan had forbidden the trip and had assumed that when Elaina and the children arrived at the docks with the maids that Tristan had no objection. Harrison had never forgiven himself for not inquiring and assuming all was well. Worse, Harrison couldn’t forgive himself for not being able to save Elaina. He’d watched as she’d made certain the children were put into a lifeboat and had tried to get to her, to make sure she got down safely as well, when a wave rose and took Elaina into the murky darkness.
“I’m not a hermit. I remain home because my children need me.”
Sophia took a deep breath and sat back. “You might consider marrying again.”
He narrowed his eyes on her. It was one topic he’d grown weary of. “You aren’t suggesting one of your friends.”
Sophia’s eyes widened. “Goodness no. They are firmly on the shelf, but it has been three years since Elaina disappeared.”
“Three years, two months and thirteen days.” The day his children arrived on his doorstep with their nursery maid and Elaina’s maid, but without Elaina, would be forever burned in his memory. Her holiday had only been meant to last for a month. Only the children returned as scheduled.
Sophia’s eyes dulled with sympathy. “What of the children?” she asked quietly.
“I have an heir and a daughter.” Surely, she wasn’t suggesting he needed more.
“They need a mother.”
Leave it to Sophia to get to the heart of the matter. Tristan was well aware that his children were motherless.
“Lady Jillian Simpson is quite taken with you,” Sophia observed with a twinkle in her eye.
“Lady Simpson is a child,” Tristan argued. A very attractive package with blonde hair and blue eyes. One he did enjoy spending time with, but not a lady he wished to make his wife.
“She is twenty,” Sophia pointed out.
“She’s a flirtation,” Tristan argued.
“A flirtation that the ton has taken note of.”
“We’ve not even been in London a full month. There is nothing to take note of.” This was one of the many reasons he hated Society. Nobody could mind their own business.
“She’s set her cap for you, so I’d suggest that if you don’t wish to make an offer, you cease dancing with her.”
Tristan slouched back against the squabs as the carriage rumbled down the road. He hated to admit it, but Sophia was right. He did not want to marry Lady Jillian. While he enjoyed her company, he did not appreciate how she’d recently tried to manipulate him into furthering their acquaintance.
He frowned. “I don’t understand why she’d set her cap for me. Her father is a duke, and she could marry anyone she wished.”
“You are a Marquess,” Sophia reminded him.
“Don’t remind me,” Tristan groaned. “When can we finally leave London? I believe I’ve had quite enough.”
“I prefer we stay a bit longer.” A mischievous smile came to her lips. “With any luck, you might find a lady you wish to marry.”
Tristan glowered at his sister. “I already have a wife!”
Sophia raised a challenging eyebrow but at least she didn’t correct him by saying he had a wife. It didn’t matter if Elaina was lost to him. He was not yet ready to remarry and not certain he ever would be.
The carriage came to a halt and with a sigh, Tristan pulled himself from the seat and followed his sister and Scala into the Weston townhouse and stopped at the entry to the ballroom.
“Each ball is more crowded than the last,” Tristan complained to Sophia.
“It’s not so bad,” she insisted.
“Bad enough and it’s the last one I plan on attending.” His decision had been made. He wanted to go home and that’s exactly what he intended to do. “I leave tomorrow, but for now, I’m going outside for some fresh air.”
“You have not even spoken with anyone,” she chastised. “Oh look, there are Eliza and Rosemary now.” Sophia waved. “Goodness. Olivia and Victoria are with them.”
“Go on and enjoy. I’ll find a place to hide until you are ready to leave.” As if the three together wasn’t bad enough, the added addition of the Westbrook twins meant that his sister would be here for the duration of the evening and it was unlikely she’d even dance.
With that, Tristan stalked away from his sister before she could argue with him further and made his way through a side door leading out into the gardens. Remaining in London had been a waste of time. The only reason to be here was if one was seeking a wife, which he was not. Sophia would like him to marry again. In fact, she’d like to see all her brothers marry, but Tristan had no intention of accommodating her.
After inhaling the cool air and filling his lungs, Tristan walked further into the darkness and away from the eyes of the ton. He had promised Sophia he’d attend this evening, but he hadn’t promised to remain in the ballroom. He might just spend the rest of the night out here.
“Lord Hopkins,” a voice called.
Bloody hell, couldn’t he be left alone for a few moments?
“Are you out here?”
Blast! He’d hoped to avoid Lady Jillian tonight. His sister had been correct, if he didn’t end the flirtation now then Lady Jillian and Society would expect him to proclaim an attachment.
Why couldn’t the two of them have just enjoyed the Season and each other’s company, without everyone assuming a marriage would follow? When he attended assemblies in Cornwall, nobody expected him to offer for any of the young ladies he danced with. They knew he had no intention of seeking another bride.
“There you are,” she announced. “I knew I recognized the rose waistcoat.”
Blast! That was the last time he’d ever let Sophia influence his valet when it came to Tristan’s wardrobe. When one wished to hide in the dark, they shouldn’t wear bright pastel colors.
“What is wrong?” Her blue eyes blinked up at him in concern.
Lady Jillian wasn’t a bad sort. He just didn’t wish to be married to her. “I’ll be returning to Cornwall tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of panic as well.
“I tire of London and wish to return to my estate and my children.”
Before he knew what she was about, Lady Jillian went up on her toes, grasped his face and pulled him forward. The force, for one so slight, was surprising and Tristan lost his balance, toppling forward. His arm went about her waist to keep her, and himself, from falling, as her lips met his.
He tried to pull back, but she had a lock on the back of his head, drawing down until he was quite certain they’d end up on the ground if he didn’t gain control over his balance.
“Lord Hopkins!”
Tristan stumbled, nearly dropping Lady Jillian in the process and looked up into the eyes of His Grace, the Duke of Eldridge.
“I’ll anticipate your calling on me tomorrow to discuss the marriage settlement.”
Alderney, Channel Islands
Elaina settled at the top of the cliff near Fort Essex and looked out to the ocean as if it held answers. In a way, it did, but the waves refused to provide Elaina with the information she sought. The only certainty in her life was that her name was Elaina and the only past she could recall began three years ago when she’d woken in a strange manor, unable to recall who she was, how she’d arrived in such a place or where she’d been.
It wasn’t unusual for Elaina to go off on her own and find a place for peaceful contemplation and to seek answers. Today, she faced France, but at other times, she visited the harbor at Longis Bay, which faced England, and each time wondered to which country she belonged. As she spoke French and English fluently, and in a manner that either could have been her first language, no determination had ever been made. The French living in Alderney insisted she was French, whereas the English who also inhabited the island insisted that she must be English. Elaina just wished she knew the answer of where she’d come from. Had she been returning home to England or leaving France for a holiday elsewhere? Though, if she were on holiday, why would she sail on a merchant ship?
“Elaina, do ya never get tired of staring out into nothingness?”
She smiled at Brendan Boyle, at one time a near constant companion. Brendan was the only person with any answers to what had happened to her. However, he could not give her the past before the ship, and he’d only been able to tell Elaina her name because another sailor on the ship had yelled it over the fierce storm. It was the last thing Brendan heard before they were both washed away.
“Tell me again, what you remember.”
Brendan sighed. “I’ve told ya a hundred times and it hasn’t helped ya recall who ya are.”
That was true. “Then tell me for the hundred and first time and perhaps it will finally bring forth the memories.”
“Very well.” He sighed and settled on the side of the hill, clutching the spyglass in his hands. “We were on a ship that sailed from Saint-Malo, France, and bound for Plymouth, England, when a fierce storm took us off course.”
Elaina nodded then closed her eyes and tried to bring forth the memories. The wind blowing so hard that it nearly knocked her from her feet and caused waves to crash over the side of the ship. The mast above cracked before it plummeted to the deck and listed the ship to the side. Her imagination was vivid, but only because Brendan had told her so often. As hard as she tried, Elaina possessed none of the familiarity of one who had lived through the experience, even though she had.
“Ya were screaming and crying, leaning over the rail of the ship, to those who had made it to lifeboats when another wave came, taking us both. I grabbed onto ya as we were both hit by the wave because I hoped that we’d have a better chance at grasping something to hold before being taken over the side, but it was not to be. Ya were knocked unconscious, but I held onto a piece of the ship until we washed up on that shore.” He pointed down below.
