Aghast, she shuddered. How dare he? She’d kept silent about Catherine, to the detriment of her marriage, and here he was threatening to throw tinder on that fire by claiming he’d seduced both sisters? Her hand rose to slap his impertinent face, but he grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back, wrenching her toward him so that she crashed against his chest.
A man cleared his throat, and Fitzroy froze, slowly backing away and letting go his hold on her arm. His brow resembled a thundercloud, and his eyes promised trouble.
“My lady, is everything all right?” Shand bowed and stepped forward, his eyes sharp. “His Lordship sent me to fetch you. There’s something he wants to show you in the stable yard.”
Relief poured over Diana, both for the escape from Fitzroy and that Evan had sent for her. It was the first time in weeks that he had expressed a desire for her company, and she needed them to be in harmony now more than ever, as there were enemies within their gates.
“I’ll come right away.” She fussed with her hair and dress, hoping she would look pleasing to her husband, that she could hide the disquiet in her heart at Fitzroy’s threats. “Do go inside, sir. I’m sure your rooms are ready.”
Fitzroy leered and sneered, but there was little else he could do with the steward there. “Remember what I said.” He marched into the house.
Diana breathed again. “Thank you, Shand.”
“My lady.” He looked after the viscount, his eyes troubled. “Was that man causing you trouble? I remember him from the wedding.”
She forced a smile. “You said the earl wanted me?” Again, her spirit leapt with hope at the thought.
Shand gnawed his lower lip. “I do beg your pardon. His Lordship didn’t send for you. It was the first thing I could think of to get you away from that man, if that was your desire.” His brows lifted in question.
“Oh, I see.” One shouldn’t feel so desolate, but she couldn’t help it. “I appreciate you rescuing me. Some guests can be quite tiresome, can’t they?”
“True, ma’am. The earl might not have sent for you, but there are some new horses at the stables, and I would be happy to escort you down to see them.”
“Thank you, Shand.” She started along the paved walk with the steward two steps behind. How would Evan react to the arrival of these particular guests?
Evan studied the new animals, but his mind wasn’t on horses. What was he going to do?
His wife had lied to him, and in his astonishment and sense of betrayal, he’d responded scathingly. And he’d been punishing her ever since. With silence. With isolation. While he tried to make sense of things, to decide what he was going to do.
The wound was still raw, and he couldn’t resist probing it. All the warning signs had been there, but he had refused to see them.
As if lying to him weren’t enough, Diana had drawn him into caring for the child too. He’d taken much satisfaction in being the one who could soothe the baby when he got fussy in the evenings, spending the time after dinner holding the child against his chest, patting the tiny back and murmuring to him. Evan had been able to draw the biggest smiles from him too, toothless, drooling, delighted smiles.
And he’d felt good doing so, since the child belonged to a lady’s maid and he’d felt sorry for the girl. Doing her a kindness hadn’t taxed him overly.
But now he didn’t know how to feel. The infant was his wife’s nephew, his relation by marriage now. That made him responsible for the child in a tangible way. Not only that, but he was responsible for his wife’s actions, and she’d deceived him, but worse, she’d stolen a child from his guardian. How was he supposed to protect her from the consequences?
Diana.
He might be angry with her for lying, but he couldn’t fault her compassion in secreting Cian away from her father’s house. But why hadn’t she told him? Why lie to him? Perhaps in the beginning when they hadn’t known each other well, but why continue the deception once they had become … close?
He missed her. He missed being with her, talking with her, hearing her laughter, watching her blossom with newfound confidence. Since the night of Cian’s illness, she’d retreated once more into her shell, protecting herself from his surliness in the same way he’d seen her protect herself from her father.
Had his reaction to her secret undone all the good living here at White Haven had accomplished?
She was the one who had lied to him. So why did he feel so guilty? It wasn’t fair.
God, how can this be Your plan? It seems every time I think I’m finding my footing, You fire something else at me. The earldom, a wife, a manor house, and now a helpless ward? Why? Why didn’t You just let me stay a soldier?
His thoughts tumbled like water over a mill wheel, turning and splashing. Absently, he approached a rangy bay with white socks and a wide white blaze. The animal was no beauty, with feet like dinner plates and a mane as wild as bracken. He snorted and stomped, his hoof ringing on the cobbles. White ringed his eye, and he wrenched his head away from Evan’s hand.
Wheeling on the end of his rope, the bay dragged the groom a few paces. Down his left flank, he bore a long scar. A saber slash. No other weapon could cause such a wound.
Recognition arrived at the same time as a memory flashed across his mind.
Men shouting, smoke, cannon fire, flying dirt, and concussion. He was running, zigzagging across the battlefield, racing toward a wagon where one horse had been shot. The other had tried to run, but the dead weight of his teammate had prevented his escape.
Evan’s breath came quickly, and his skin prickled with sweat. Hot pain seared through his head, and he squinted as the sunlight stabbed his eyes. His episodes had been so infrequent lately, this one caught him broadside, staggering him with its intensity.
Commodore. The name flitted across his mind. That was the beast’s name. Commodore.
This horse had been at Salamanca. And other battles as well, one of the animals that had hauled provision wagons for the Ninety-Fifth Rifles. The very animal who had carried Evan to safety behind the lines, dragging a wagon with Percival Seaton hiding inside. The fateful action that had started Evan down his current road.
Evan took several deep breaths, reminding himself that he was in Sussex, not Spain, that war was a thing of the past for him, that he was safe.
And yet terrible urgency swept over him again. A spy. He had to get to his commanding officers.
Frustration burned in his throat. Why couldn’t he remember? Why couldn’t he forget?
“Sir?” the groom asked. “Is something amiss?”
He shook his head, unable to speak as the pain and panic pursued him. Calm down. Deep breaths. Don’t let him see your distress, or he’ll call the bailiffs and they’ll cart you away to the asylum.
The groom’s face screwed up in concern and not a little alarm. “Should I call someone, my lord?”
Fighting to dispel the panic and shards of memory, Evan focused his attention on the lad’s face. He hadn’t had an attack this bad for weeks. When he finally spoke, his voice croaked, and he cleared his throat to try again.
“The other horses can go into the paddock once you’ve checked them over, but keep this fellow here. In fact, I’ll see to him. You look after the others.” Taking the lead rope, Evan nodded to the groom, who bowed before instructing the stable lads to move out with the seven other new arrivals. Evan’s hand shook on the rough hemp, his palms sweating.