“What about you?” Gabe asked.

  “About me?”

  “Are you happy? I can tell you’re fond of Anthony, and he seems a clever man, but I’d hate to see you idle and bored with your life.”

  “I won’t be,” she hastened to assure him. “Anthony takes his work in Parliament seriously, and he wants a wife who can be a political hostess. I’m sure the fact that I’m cousin to both an earl and a marquess who are high in Whig circles was part of my attraction, but he wanted to marry someone intelligent and well-informed. We’ll suit very well.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Isn’t it enough?”

  “Do you love him?”

  She ought to say yes, or refuse to answer such an impertinent question, but she couldn’t lie to Gabe, especially not here in the candlelit parlor with all the rest of the house asleep. “He’s a dear friend,” she said. “I’ve never fallen in love. Not with anyone else.”

  “Oh, Cat.” She saw her own hunger and sorrow reflected on his face. “I still love you, too, but we cannot be.”

  “I know.” She studied her hands, clenched in her lap. “I can’t jilt Anthony. He was already jilted once, and it was a great scandal and embarrassment for him. I won’t make him suffer that again.”

  “If I’d known how this would be, I never would’ve come. I could’ve sent Ellen with a servant and avoided troubling you.”

  “No. That wouldn’t be right. This is your home and your family, too, even more than mine.”

  “Still. I could’ve stayed away.”

  “Too late for that. As for the rest, it’ll be easier tomorrow, with the wassail party and everyone starting to arrive for the...the wedding.”

  “I’ll make sure I’m away before your wedding,” he said softly. “I can contrive some business for myself in London, or to hear a rumor of a ship sailing for Lisbon earlier than mine.”

  “Thank you, Gabe. That will make it...easier.” Easier to get through her wedding to one man without the man she’d rather have as bridegroom watching from the family pew. What a dreadful coil. She hid a shudder. It wouldn’t be so bad as that. It couldn’t. She hadn’t lived in misery for the past five years, so it followed that she would have happy decades at Anthony’s side. She liked him, after all. She agreed with most of his political views and was glad to add her family connections and whatever acumen she possessed to help him further his causes. Until today that had been enough. Surely once Gabe went away it would be again. It was just now that it felt like a knife to her heart.

  “Easier all around,” he agreed. “And I think we’ve lingered here long enough.”

  She nodded.

  He took up his candelabra, and they left together, walking side by side but not touching. At the top of the great staircase, they halted. Her bedroom lay to the right, while he was staying in one of the guest rooms beyond the gallery on the other side of the house.

  There would be another chance to say goodbye. But that would be before family, before Anthony, and she would be obliged to hide how much she felt. She rested a light hand on Gabe’s arm. “Be careful when you go back,” she told him. “I’ll still be watching the casualty lists for you, and I’d better not see your name there.”

  She half expected him to jerk away, but he gazed down at her, one hand holding the branch of flickering candles carefully at arm’s length. “I’ll do my best,” he promised. “And—God bless you, Cat. I want you to be happy. Learn to love your Anthony. He’s a good man, I think.”

  “He is. I’ll do my best, too.” She knew she ought to step back and slip away. There was nothing to be gained by staying where she was, so close to Gabe she could feel the warmth of his body, gazing at his dear face—the blue depths of his eyes, the sensuous fullness of his lips.

  “Oh, Cat...” He leaned in and kissed her.

  It wasn’t like that frantic scramble five years before. No, this was a slow fire, more controlled but every bit as searing. Except for her hand on his arm and his resting lightly on her shoulder, only their mouths touched. His tongue traced her lips, seeking entrance, and she opened to him, dancing her tongue against his as he thrust deeply into her mouth.

  It was the longest single kiss she’d ever experienced, but it ended far too soon. His breath came raggedly, and she almost swayed with the hunger that had settled in her core.

  “Go.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “Go now, before we end in the same bed.”

  There was nothing Cat wanted more, but she retained just enough memory of her duty to back away and stumble down the corridor to her room. Somehow she got undressed and into her empty bed, but she didn’t sleep until almost dawn.

  Chapter Four

  Gabe hadn’t passed a night with so little sleep since the aftermath of his first battle. Just after dawn he stared out his window over the valley, where thick, wind-driven snow was falling, and rubbed his dry, itching eyes. He couldn’t regret that he and Cat had found a chance to speak privately. He’d never imagined that she believed she’d have his blood on her hands if he fell, and he trusted he’d put paid to that mad notion.

  But, oh, it was too bad that they each still loved the other, and even worse that they both knew it. He’d never dreamed that she treasured any lingering feelings for him. He’d told himself that she’d only admired him before because she hadn’t yet seen anyone better.

  Of course, he’d never forgotten her. If he’d wanted to engage in dalliance, he’d had ample opportunities. He’d danced and flirted with a few ladies in Sicily and then Gibraltar, but when he’d thought of them alongside Cat, their attractions had dimmed. He had, in fact, lived in chastity for the past five years. He was no saint and no virgin. There was a village girl who’d seduced him and Harry in turn when they were sixteen—yet, somehow, not Richard—and there had been a few women during his time at Oxford. But since the night he’d come so close to bedding Cat, he hadn’t truly wanted anyone else.

  That would change when he got back to Portugal, he vowed. Cat would be married, forever beyond his reach. He couldn’t go on saving himself for a dream he’d known all along could never come true.

  As he shaved and dressed, he planned how he must behave for the remainder of his stay. He must invent reasons to take himself out of the house as much as possible. He could, and should, see the Ladds every day to learn how Ellen fared, and he also genuinely wanted to visit all the tenant families who had provided him with playfellows and welcomed him as almost as much a son of the estate as Richard and Harry. Granted, he’d see most of them at the wassail party, but that didn’t mean a more personal call wasn’t also in order.

  After that, all he needed was a good reason to be called away before Cat’s wedding that wouldn’t expose her to gossip and speculation. Perhaps he could enlist Richard—no, not him. He was far too clear-sighted for the task Gabe had in mind. Harry would be perfect. All he’d have to do was pull Harry aside tonight or tomorrow, tell him he wasn’t quite happy about watching Cat marry another man and ask Harry to send a message that Gabe could say came from London. Harry would laugh at him, but he’d also go along with it cheerfully and not question him closely, nor trouble himself with suspicions over Cat’s sentiments.

  Just as he finished fastening his uniform coat, a scratching came at the door, and he opened it to a housemaid he didn’t recognize.

  “If you please, sir, you’re needed in the parlor as soon as you can come down,” she said.

  It was too early for any kind of social call, even if the weather had been fine. Had the rest of the family somehow learned what had passed between him and Cat last night, and was Richard or Sir Anthony looking to call him to account for it? “I’ll be down directly,” he said. “Is anything amiss?”

  “It’s the Ladds, sir, and that baby you brought from Portugal.”

  “I see. I’ll go to them straightaway.” He suited actions to words, stepping into the corridor and closing his door behind him. Something must have gone badly wrong for them to bring Ellen here through a snowstorm. Had they decided they didn’t want the girl after all, that they couldn’t take in a certainly foreign and almost certainly bastard child and bring her up as their own?

  He heard Ellen’s sobs from the top of the stairs and dashed down the steps and into the parlor. As soon as he stepped through the doorway, Ellen broke free of Mrs. Ladd’s restraining hands, ran to him and flung her arms around his knees.

  “I’m so sorry, Captain Shepherd,” Mrs. Ladd said. “She spent the entire night crying and calling for you, and the only way I could even get her to take a little milk was promising to bring her here. I wasn’t sure she understood, but as soon as she drank the milk, she ran to our door and started calling for you again. When I tried to say we’d have to wait because it was snowing too heavily, she wept so hard I was afraid she’d make herself ill.”

  He detached Ellen from his boots and lifted her up. She locked her arms around his neck, her sobs abating into little hiccupping whimpers. “Ellen, my girl, what’s this?” he asked, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I cannot keep you. Mrs. Ladd will bring you up on a farm! What could be more splendid than that? Why, you’ll have lambs and calves and foals and fluffy little chicks to look after, and you’ll go to school in the village and marry some fine farmer or blacksmith when you’re grown. I can’t give you any of that.”

  Ellen leaned back, surveying him as if to be sure he was real. “Gabe,” she said firmly, and nestled her head against his shoulder.

  He stepped farther in the room and shook his head helplessly at Mrs. Ladd and her husband. The farmer sighed and shrugged. Mrs. Ladd managed to smile, though Gabe didn’t think it a sign of happiness. “I’m so dreadfully sorry,” he said. “I thought she’d be so glad to have a proper home and a woman’s care...”

  “Little children love what’s familiar above all else, Captain,” Mrs. Ladd said gently. “This poor mite lost her mama, and you gave her care and love then. It’s no wonder she was grieved to see you go away, so soon after her first loss.”

  “Hm.” He took a chair and set Ellen on the floor at his knee. She instantly squirmed her way into his lap. The little girl’s devotion warmed his heart, but what was he to do? He had no home to give her. “Perhaps I was too hasty. If you’re willing to try again...well, I should be here until just before the new year. I can keep her with me today, and you can see her at the wassail party—if you are willing, that is.”

  Mrs. Ladd nodded eagerly.

  “Then on Christmas, I could bring her for a visit, and each day a little longer, until she comes to know and trust you. Then when I have to go away, I hope it won’t be so hard on her.”

  “That sounds wise, sir,” Ladd said.

  “I hope so. She’s such a dear creature, and I’d keep her if I could, but...” He shook his head.

  “You’ll be a good father someday,” Mrs. Ladd said with a fond nod.

  He chuckled ruefully. “If I ever find some lady to take a chance on me.”

  Mrs. Ladd laughed aloud. “A dashing officer such as yourself? See if you aren’t swarmed by young ladies at the wassailing tonight. Miss Rossiter—the vicar’s daughter, surely you remember her—will be here, and she’s grown into a fine girl.”

  Good Lord, was Harriet Rossiter really old enough to think of courting? After some hasty mental arithmetic, he concluded the child he vaguely remembered seeing at the vicarage must be seventeen or eighteen by now.

  “Or the new doctor’s sister. She keeps house for him, but she’s a pretty thing, and I’m sure she’d rather have her own home. And Squire Faircloth has a niece who’s come to live with him, and—”

  “Mary,” Ladd said with a low chuckle. “No need to be matchmaking. I’m sure the captain can manage on his own.”

  “That’s so. I beg your pardon, Captain Shepherd. I must own, I would like to see you settled with a Kentish girl. That way you’ll have cause to come back to us when it comes time to sell your commission. You could keep an eye on Ellen, then, and see how she fares.”

  “That is an inducement,” he said, settling the little girl more comfortably on his lap. Her eyes were drooping, and Gabe suspected she’d be asleep soon. “I’ll dance tonight with all the young ladies you recommend, but I make no promises beyond that. I have to return to my regiment soon. A week isn’t much time for a courtship.”

  “Time enough, when you find the right one.”

  From her fond glance at her husband, Gabe supposed the Ladds’ courtship had been a hasty affair. He smiled at them and turned the subject to their children—there hadn’t been much time to speak of them yesterday—and listened to their tales of their married daughter and her new baby, of the promise their eldest son showed of becoming a good farmer himself in due course and of the various accomplishments and foibles of the younger children, who ranged in age from six to seventeen. He hoped he could persuade Ellen to accept the Ladds before he returned to Portugal. She’d have a lovely life here, with such a family to surround her. Surely he was making a good beginning by showing Ellen he liked and trusted them.

  She was entirely asleep, a warm, heavy weight nestled against his chest, by the time the Ladds left to brave the storm again. Gabe saw them out and wandered through the entry hall, wondering what he was to do with Ellen for the rest of the day. The last babies at Edenwell Court had been him and Harry, so all the cradles and toys were doubtless stored in some dusty, out-of-the-way corner of the attic.

  As he mused, Sir Anthony came briskly down the stairs and stopped to frown at him. “Good God. Did they decide they didn’t want her after all?”

  Ellen stirred, and he patted her back. “No, but she apparently decided she didn’t want them.”

  “What are you going to do? Surely you can’t take her back to Lisbon with you.”

  “Give her more time to become accustomed.” Briefly, Gabe explained the plan he’d agreed upon with the Ladds.

  Sir Anthony nodded, though he seemed distracted. “Have you seen Catherine this morning?”

  Gabe shook his head. “I haven’t seen anyone yet,” he said carelessly. “I’m going to find a more comfortable bed for Ellen than my uniform coat, and then I’ll come down to breakfast.”

  “Mm.” Sir Anthony hesitated a moment, then stepped closer. He wasn’t a menacing man, but instinctively Gabe stood straighter and rested a protective hand on Ellen’s smooth hair. “Cat told me about you,” Sir Anthony said, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “and why you went away.”

  “Did she?” he replied, carefully neutral. Good God. He shouldn’t blame her for it. Surely it wasn’t unusual for a couple about to be married to share such confidences about their pasts, and it wasn’t as though it was a proper secret, when all the family knew what had happened. But still it rankled to have this—this stranger added to their number.

  “Yes, how she struck up a flirtation with you merely to defy her uncle over his plans to marry her off to Harry.”

  Was that only what she’d told her betrothed, or was it the truth? Had he been nothing more to her than a game, a tool to be used against their domineering uncle? But surely last night had been the truth—the look in her eyes, that kiss. Harry was safely married now, and old Lord Edenwell dead. She had no cause to use him now.

  Not that it mattered. She was getting married, and Gabe was going back to his regiment. “Well, our uncle would tempt a saint into rebellion.” Ellen stirred and whimpered in her sleep, and he inwardly blessed her for the diversion. “I beg your pardon. I must see to the child.”

  Sir Anthony narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. “Very well.” He nodded and strolled toward the breakfast room.

  Gabe sighed and mounted the stairs. On the way to his room, he met the housekeeper, Mrs. Martin, and explained the problem of his young charge. She exclaimed and offered to take her to her own rooms, near enough to the kitchens and the servants’ hall that someone would hear her when she awoke.

  After obtaining Mrs. Martin’s assurances that she would send word the instant Ellen asked for him, he trudged back downstairs for his breakfast. He would rather avoid Cat, especially when in company with Sir Anthony, but he could only do so much to keep apart from her as long as they were in the same house. The sooner he got away the better. Harry would help him, he was sure, and tonight at the wassail party he truly would dance with all those young ladies Mrs. Ladd had recommended to him. If Sir Anthony suspected him of any interest in Cat—and clearly he did, or he wouldn’t have made such a point of telling him he knew his and Cat’s shared history—the quickest way to squelch his jealousy would be to pay visible court to other women.

  But when he got to the breakfast room, only Richard and Lady Edenwell were at the table. He bid them both civil good mornings and began filling his plate from the sideboard. “I was expecting to see Sir Anthony here,” he remarked. “I met him in the hall a few minutes ago.”

  “He only came in to look for Kitty,” Lady Edenwell said. “I haven’t seen her about this morning, so I gave him leave to try her sitting room. It isn’t as though I need worry that he’ll compromise her when they’ll be married a week from today. He did say he’d seen you and the little girl, as well—do I understand that the Ladds brought her back?”

  So he explained again and listened to his aunt’s good advice for how to resign Ellen to her happy fate. He nodded gravely and reflected he needed a few lessons in resignation for himself.

  * * *

  After no more than an hour or two’s restless slumber, Cat skipped breakfast and sought solitude instead, donning her warmest woolen dress and sturdiest boots, covering all with a fur-lined pelisse and going out to walk in the snowy garden. The fast-falling snow, the leafless trees and the spiky, harsh aspect of the wintry rosebushes suited her exactly.

 

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