Laura Carroll Butler Read online

  “That’s wonderful. Tell me about it,” she said with genuine encouragement.

  “I doubt that it is quite your taste, Miss Newland.”

  She smiled in assurance. “Why don’t you let me decide that?”

  He paused then began when he saw that she was legitimately interested. “It is about a man whose soul is searching the world for the soul of the woman he loved in life.” He waited for her questions, but she only seemed curious. “They are each reborn into new persons,” he explained.

  She wrinkled her brow. “That is a radical thought, Michael.”

  “It’s actually an ancient belief. Some Greeks believed that it was possible for our souls to be reborn as many as ten times. There are people in the Orient who still believe this.”

  Rebecca considered this. “Does he find this woman that he loved in another life?” she asked.

  “He does, over and over again, but he never recognizes her until it is too late. It seems that he never recognized her soul as he was only in love with her form.”

  “So it doesn’t have a happy ending.”

  “I suppose not. Love doesn’t always make one happy.” Rebecca was startled at the statement. He noticed immediately and said nonchalantly “The two souls have to really understand each other.”

  She didn’t know whether he had intended to insult her or was just naturally rude. So she kept her cool and answered, “Whatever could you mean by such a statement?”

  Michael smiled pleasantly and whispered in her ear, “Ask yourself do you love his soul or do you love his form?”

  He is teasing me, she thought angrily, because he believes that I am only after Davis’ money and title. And, truthfully, though she would never tell Michael, it had been easy for her to be attracted to Davis if only for his status. Now that she knew him better, she cared for Davis and (who knows) maybe even loved him. Who was Michael Brooks to think she was too naïve to miss his insult?

  “Mr. Brooks,” she said sweetly, only her eyes betraying her real feelings, “I don’t quite know why, but I believe you don’t care for me.”

  He chuckled softly. “How very direct of you, Miss Newland! But that is not true. I don’t dislike you. You seem like a fine lady. But Davis is like a brother to me. I want him to share his life with someone who will make his happiness her priority.”

  “I intend to make Davis happy,” she said firmly. “I will give him the family he desires and make up for all the sadness in his life. With my love,” she added pointedly. “Our dance has ended now, Mr. Brooks. I hope you will excuse me.” He bowed and she turned from him to look for Davis.

  Johanna walked up to Michael and handed him a glass of wine. Her eyes were shining from the two glasses she’d already consumed. “You know, she is perfect for him,” she said to Michael. “He needs to feel like he is protecting someone and she knows how to make him feel that way.”

  “Do they really love each other?” he asked.

  “Love? You are such a romantic, Michael. I suppose that will come. They do make a marvelous couple, don’t you think?” She looked over at the two; Rebecca regal in her burgundy dress with her hair piled on her head in tousled curls and Davis seated at the card table, his square jaw serious and intent. He didn’t acknowledge Rebecca, but she stood her ground, nonetheless, hoping to wrest him from the cards and onto the dance floor.

  “Will it be enough for Davis?” Michael mused.

  “Come now, Michael,” Johanna laughed. “You and I both know that what is important is that he carries on the line. It’s been drilled into his head since he was born. He doesn’t need love for that. You never have,” she demurred.

  “I am not Davis. Of course he will do what is expected of him, but is it too much to hope that he could marry a woman he loves?”

  “Why should he when marriage works out better as a business arrangement.”

  “You don’t believe that, Johanna. You’re just a little jealous and a little drunk.”

  Rather than become angry because she knew Michael was right, she leaned close to his ear and whispered, “You’re right, Michael. I am drunk. And a little jealous. Maybe if you visit me tonight you can help me get over my jealousy.”

  Michael smiled vaguely. “That might not be a good idea,” he said.

  “I forgot. You like them best when they are aloof. I can be as aloof as you want.” And to prove it, she left him and danced with other men the rest of the night. Her eyes followed him, but he never once looked her way. She had momentarily forgotten that the golden rule for holding onto Michael Brooks was not to. He was like custard in your hand; delicious and delightful, but if you squeezed too hard, he slipped right through your fingers.

  *************************

  The party signaled the end of the social season for the Newlands. They returned to their home in Tundle. Davis remained at his home in London until he was called back to St. Clare’s Abbey in July. Shortly after, Rebecca received a letter from him. The Third Baron of Swinstoke, Lord William Edderle, was dead.

  Chapter Four

  Lord Edderle died peacefully in his bed after vexing his children for over a decade. It was a sharp contrast to the death of Henry Newland the year before. He had died suddenly, in the privy, and was found ghoulishly sitting upright with his pants around his ankles. He’d tormented not only his family, but everyone else in his sphere. The family couldn’t keep the matter a secret and his humiliating position was gleefully gossiped about by his workers and the townspeople. It was a fitting death for a cruel man.

  Nevertheless, the family was strongly affected by his death emotionally, though the emotion was relief. Rebecca was not fully cognizant of Davis’ relationship with his father. In his letter, he had asked her to come to St. Clare’s and stay with him and Johanna. She decided that he must need her comfort.

  Lord Edderle was already buried by the time she arrived. The house was packed with people, relatives she figured, expecting a piece of the Edderle estate. It had been the same when her father died. She met cousins that she didn’t know existed.

  Overwhelmed with so many strangers, Rebecca was happy to see Michael. He was sober and serious, far different than at her party. Johanna was busy with entertaining and welcomed Rebecca’s assistance. Of course, Rebecca’s first concern was Davis.

  Johanna told her that he had been meeting with solicitors since Lord Edderle’s death, so tangled was his final will. It was a red herring, though. In the end, as the eldest son, Davis inherited everything. Johanna received an annual allowance and what remained of her mother’s personal possessions. For the other relatives, there was nothing except free food, drink and lodging until Michael decided that it was time for them to leave.

  Rebecca understood for the first time how marrying Davis Edderle would truly change her life. All this—St. Clare’s, the estate holdings, the Mayfair home---would also be hers. She would become a baroness. For now, Johanna would continue to live at the manor house, but it was Rebecca who would succeed as the mistress, not Johanna. At the same time she recognized all that she would gain in her marriage, she realized also how much she didn’t know about this man whose life she would share.

  Their conversations in London, while sparkling and entertaining, had been largely superficial. She had played a game and he was her prize; but she wasn’t marrying a trinket at a carnival. Davis was a flesh and blood man and she had no idea what he thought about, well really, anything.

  Even with Michael and Johanna around, this would be the most time that they had spent together alone. She had not mourned her father’s death. At the funeral and for a few weeks after, she put on a good show of being sad. Davis’ emotions confused her; he didn’t seem sad, but he also didn’t seem relieved. He wasn’t any different than he had been in London. He didn’t talk to her about his father and she wondered if Lord Edderle was a topic Davis wasn’t comfortable discussing with her. She wondered if asking would be akin to prying into his private mind.

  This man that she would m
arry was a stranger. It was thrilling and a little disconcerting at the same time.

  The four spent the first night without guests in the drawing room. Michael and Davis played chess, while Rebecca knitted lace intended for her bridal nightgown. Johanna had finished playing on the spinet and came to sit beside Rebecca.

  “Have you decided where you will be married?” Johanna asked her.

  Rebecca was caught off-guard. Was it proper to be speaking of their wedding so soon after Lord Edderle’s funeral? Before she could answer, Davis glanced up from his game and said, “Here, of course.”

  “Of course,” Rebecca echoed.

  “But darling, you can’t have the ceremony here. You have to be married in a church,” Johanna said to Rebecca.

  “We will have the ceremony at our church and the reception here. Right, darling?” he added, smiling at Rebecca.

  “Yes, of course. That’s perfectly fine,” she said, unconsciously stroking the hollow of her throat. Whatever Davis wants, she thought.

  Michael looked up at Davis with a grin and said, “You will let her choose her own attire, won’t you?”

  Davis’ smile softened. “I’m sorry, Rebecca. I just expected that we would be married here at our new home. But if you have another place in mind—“

  “No,” she interrupted. “I want to be married here. It makes more sense. But maybe we could see the church later this week?” It was not a question, more a plea.

  “Yes, of course. Tomorrow. Just the two of us,” he answered.

  She had an overwhelming desire just then to touch him, to smooth his hair and stroke his shoulder and remind him that she was there for him, ready to console, to listen or just to hold him. But with an absent smile at her, he immediately returned to his game.

  He escorted her to her room that night. As she stood with him at the door, she waited for him to kiss her, but he only held her hands. “You have such beautiful hands. Did you know that? So soft and strong.” He lifted one hand to his cheek and nuzzled it.

  Her heart was pounding and she felt a shiver of excitement. “Kiss me, Davis. Please.”

  He stared into her eyes, his face so close, and she could smell the scotch that he had been drinking. He looked like he was trying to decide something. She didn’t understand why he hesitated.

  But he did kiss her and it was different from the engagement kiss. She felt the warmth deep in her and she reached her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, he stopped and pulled away from her, leaving Rebecca breathless and confused.

  “I wanted you to kiss me like that,” she said to assure him that she was not offended.

  “I just don’t want you to regret anything,” he said, still holding her hand.

  “I would never. Don’t you know, Davis? I love you.” She meant it. She hadn’t been sure before. But their time apart and knowing that he had wanted her with him (for why else would he have sent the letter) clarified her feelings.

  When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Do you love me, Davis?”

  He smiled gently. “You are so young, Rebecca. Of course I love you. I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me otherwise.”

  “I need to know you better, Davis, so that I know how to make you happy.” At that moment, they heard Michael’s light tread bouncing up the stairs. Davis stepped away, putting more space between them.

  “Don’t mind me,” Michael said at the door of his room. “I am just off to my lonely bed.”

  Rebecca blushed at his implication. Davis kissed her on the cheek, said good night and went to his room. She hadn’t planned on inviting Davis into her room, but the idea that Michael might have thought so or worse, that Davis might have, embarrassed her. And yet, what if she had? They were going to be married and she trusted Davis not to do anything improper. She just didn’t know if she could trust herself.

  *************************

  Davis and Rebecca walked to St. George’s church the next morning. The First Baron had built the church over a century before. Three generations of Edderle’s were buried in the cemetery. Rebecca knew before she saw it that it would be appropriate for their wedding. Davis needed to know that she trusted his judgment.

  They stood in the cold stone church and she tried to envision it decorated with lilies and peonies. “Is this the church where your parents were married?” she asked.

  “No. My mother was from Dorchester; they were married there.”

  She had no great attachment to her church at home. She watched Davis as he walked up the aisle. It was a simple and plain building, no stained glass, almost Puritan in its décor. But this was what Davis wanted. It was his home church and it touched her that he was sentimental about it.

  “It’s so very simple that it could be easily decorated. It could be very romantic,” she said.

  Davis turned to her, a smile deepening his dimples. “Yes, it could be very romantic.”

  His sudden excitement was contagious and she felt the anxiety that had enveloped her for days ease. “Yes, I think that it would be lovely. We should be married here.”

  “Then it’s settled. I will have the banns read at Sunday’s service,” Davis said.

  ************************

  Rebecca was more relaxed that evening. The wine flowed freely at dinner and afterward. Davis sat with Rebecca while she entertained on the spinet; later Michael read a little of his less bawdy poetry. Rebecca only realized that she was tipsy when she required more of Davis’ assistance on the stairs.

  The next morning, she slept in and woke with a nagging fear that she had embarrassed Davis with her behavior. He said nothing, but suggested that a ride might help clear her head. They rode to a spot near the woods, out of sight of the house.

  He helped her dismount, then spread a blanket on the grass for her to sit on. “How are you feeling today,” he asked as he reclined in the grass beside her.

  She felt her cheeks flush. “I suppose that I had more wine than I should have,” she said apologetically.

  He put his hand on hers for reassurance. “It’s fine. The port can be a little strong. You were just more animated than I had ever seen.”

  She looked directly at him and asked, “Did you like me better that way?”

  “I like you when you are being yourself.”

  She was silent, contemplating what he meant. She was always “herself”, wasn’t she? Who else could she be?

  He sensed her confusion and explained “When I watch you with others at your birthday party, for instance, you are more relaxed and vivacious. When you are alone with me, though, you are quiet and guarded as though you are afraid of me.”

  “I didn’t realize,” she said. “It’s just—“

  “How you were taught to attract a man.”

  “Yes,” she answered honestly.

  “But you have me; you don’t have to play games or be afraid that I won’t like who you are. I want you to be my wife. I want you to feel safe with me.”

  Davis’ voice was sincere and he watched her carefully, waiting for a response. It seemed odd to her how she had been prepped in the skills necessary to attract the right mate, but had never been coached on how to behave when she had caught him. Was she expected to be honest? Moreover, did Davis really want a wife who could think for herself and who might have her own opinions? Her father certainly hadn’t. But Davis was not Henry.

  So she smiled and said, “I want to be a support for you with your father…and all the matters with the solicitors. That is why I am quiet; I am worried for you.”

  He patted her hand and sat up. “You needn’t. I am not particularly missing my father. He hasn’t been around, really, since my mother died.”

  “I’m sorry. You were not close?”

  “Once, years ago, when I was a child. My mother had a difficult time when she was expecting. It seems each of us took a little part of her life. The last child killed her. I didn’t even know she was…I suppose that I would have found out when I
came home from holiday and found a new brother or sister.

  “My father blamed us for slowly killing her, me, Johanna, Colin. When she died, he became a stranger to us. He was the worst to Johanna, maybe because she was the only girl or maybe because she looks so much like our mother. Johanna couldn’t escape, but my brother did. Colin joined the army; he was grateful to be far away.”

  This was the first Rebecca had heard of a brother. She asked hesitatingly “Where is Colin now?”

  Davis’ voice which had been so bitter while he spoke of his father, softened and he said, “He died in the American colonies. I suppose he is buried there as well. Father received a letter from Colin’s captain and Johanna found it after he threw it away. He wasn’t even going to tell us.”

  Her heart hurt for the pain in Davis’ voice. She reached for his hands, wanting desperately to touch him. “I am so sorry! I had no idea how awful…” Then she stopped. No matter how beastly William Edderle had been, he was still Davis’ father. She didn’t feel she had the right to criticize him.

  Davis said nothing. He took her hat off and gently laid her back on the blanket. He touched her face, her neck and then gently stroked the tops of her breasts peeking out of her neckline. Her heart was pounding and though she tried, she found she couldn’t control her breathing. He kissed her, so gently at first, then a little harder. Soon she felt his lips where his hands had been and his hands were now under her skirt, stroking the skin above her stockings. Just as quickly as he had started kissing her, he stopped and held her gently.

  “Davis,” she began.

  “I want our wedding night to be special,” he said.

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” she answered.

  ************************

  Michael moved the curtains aside. There was no sign of Rebecca and Davis so he rejoined Johanna in bed. Their affair had begun again soon after he had arrived at St. Clare’s Abbey. She knew it was a mistake, but he was there and she was lonely. After only a few days, her neediness was too much for him.

  Already she sensed the change in him. He draped his arm casually over her instead of pulling her closer. “Don’t bother,” she said, pushing him away.