A Grave Inheritance (22 page)

“Her mam first started taking in orphans some thirty years back. When she died of consumption, her ladyship took over their care.”

My brow creased. If Cate had the gift of healing, why did her mother die from a slow, painful disease? “Did you know Lady Dinley’s mother?”

“Aye,” Mr. Larken said. “She hired me and the missus to oversee the bakehouse when it was first built in 1705.”

“And when did you meet Lady Dinley?”

“Nigh on ten years ago when her mam died. Oh, la,” he chuckled, “I still remember the day she first showed at the front door, no more than a year out of short dresses and ready to take over where her mam left off. I had my doubts, but her ladyship took to the challenge like a duck to water.”

“And she never came around before that?”

He shook his head. “No, miss. Her ladyship lived on the Continent with an aunt and only came to London after her mam were laid to rest.” His eyes flickered to the pantry door. “Don’t think I’m speaking out of turn, Miss Kilbrid, but from what I heard there weren’t no love lost between the two them, despite their being kin.”

“How awful.”

“Aye, ’tis a tragedy, to be sure. I knew them both and except for the difference in years, there weren’t no mam and daughter more alike. Two peas from the same pod, the missus would say.”

Another child stirred near my feet, mumbling a few dream-induced words before falling silent again. I stared at the fair head peeking out from beneath the blanket, momentarily struck by the sad circumstances that had led each child to this room. “It’s unfortunate Lady Dinley didn’t know of the illness. I wonder if she regrets not having the chance to reconcile with her mother in the end.”
Or to keep her from dying.

Mr. Larken shifted his weight from foot to foot. “The illness weren’t no secret, but even so, neither one made any attempt to contact the other.” He shook his head. “From my experience, Miss Kilbrid, indifference don’t breed regret, and that’s about as much as I think they ever felt for the other.”

I nodded, but said nothing in return.

“Ahh, here they come,” Mr. Larken said. “And it looks like her ladyship has calmed our little Molly.”

Cate walked toward us with a small form curled up in her arms. Reaching an empty pallet, I watched as she knelt down and tucked Molly beneath the blanket, placing a kiss on the little girl’s forehead before standing.

Goddess Born...good Samaritan...indifferent to her own mother.

The woman was a living, breathing enigma. And the more I learned about her, the less I seemed to know.

Chapter Eleven

Upon My Honor

I followed Cate upstairs to bed, so tired I had to drag each foot over the marble steps. In truth, after napping much of the afternoon on Mr. Faber’s sofa, I expected to feel sprightlier. But since leaving the bakehouse, a heavy weariness had settled inside me, infecting body and mind alike. My limbs felt weighted with rocks, and my brain turned to a knotted lump from the tangle of thoughts sitting inside it. The various events and faces from the evening blended together into an incoherent mess, all of which I was desperately trying to forget.

Arriving inside my room, I slid the iron bolt into place, more as a symbolic gesture than any real means of protection from the outside world. A small fire crackled in the hearth, drawing me like a sleepwalker to the armchair where I sank down into the welcoming softness. Firelight leapt across the hearthrug to warm the front of my skirts, but could do nothing against the raw despair that had settled inside me.

Why does everything have to be so complicated?

Life at Brighmor seemed relatively carefree, even boring at times when compared to my first week in London. So maybe Edgar Sweeney and Nathan Crowley had both tried to kill me last summer, not to mention Mr. Chubais. At least I had the benefit of home and community to see me through. Across the Atlantic, I had one distracted friend, a resentful fiancé, and more trouble than I knew what to do with. Slumping farther into the chair, I groaned inwardly from the single, invariable factor from the past six months.

What is wrong with me?

No matter where I went, trouble followed, nipping at my heels like a starving dog. It beggared the mind that I had almost died twice since arriving in London, once by murder and the other by accident. Yet, even these two occurrences had only added to the ever-expanding net of danger and deceit being drawn around me. Unwitting cohorts, the Tuatha Dé and the English peerage seemed determined to make my life a living hell. Or end it altogether, depending on who or what happened to get to me first. It certainly didn’t help that I had managed to gain about ten enemies for every friend thus far. And with every passing day, these two groups were becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between.

A sudden swell of homesickness drenched my already dampened spirits.
Why did I ever leave Brighmor?
I hated London, and wanted nothing more than to get married and go home. Not that anyone gave a flying fig what I wanted. With a heavy sigh, I wished them all to the devil, both human and god, along with their various descendants. Cate. Julian. The king. Amelia. Callieach. The little wretch. Henry. One-by-one, each face rose up for a split second, only to sink back into the graying numbness of fatigue.

Except for Henry. He remained at the forefront of my thoughts, and I yearned to see him despite his previous behavior. But did he wish to see me? That wicked thought cut close to my heart. To be sure, he had come looking for me in the palace courtyard, but did that mean he was ready to make peace from our argument at All Hallows? Or did he still think me unnatural? Is that why he had waited so long to defend me against Amelia?

He is not leath’dhia. You were never meant to be together.
I winced involuntarily. Those were Julian’s words, not mine. So why had I heard them in my own voice? The knot pulled even tighter in my brain as the fire blurred through a veil of tears. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the chair.

“Blast it, Henry!” I cried. “Why must you be such a twit?”

I sensed the presence a split second before a shadow fell across my face. My eyes flew open to reveal a pair of men’s breeches. “Oh!” I cried in alarm. Jerking my gaze up the powerfully built body, Henry’s striking features came into focus. “Oh!” I said again, this time jumping to my feet and bringing us within a foot of the other. “When did you get here?”

“An hour ago. I came directly from the palace.” He lifted his hand and cupped my chin. “Selah, you must know that I had no inclination of Amelia’s intentions tonight. If I had...” He shook his head, leaving the remaining words unspoken.

Conflicting emotions tugged at my heart. I wanted to kiss him and beat him to a bloody pulp all in the same minute. Silently, I studied his eyes, searching their green depths for the missing words.
What would you have done differently? Intervened before I had been publicly humiliated? Stayed by my side instead of abandoning me to the wolves?
Try as I might, I couldn’t consider these other possibilities without first recalling what had actually occurred. In a blink, the room grew overly warm, almost stifling, as a rush of angry blood flooded my cheeks.

I yanked my chin from his hand. “How dare you come in here and tell me what I must or mustn’t know. You’ve no right to presume any manner of my thoughts after acting like such a...a...” I stuttered to a halt, my mind a sudden blank.

A faint smile touched Henry’s mouth. “A twit?” he offered hopefully.

Hearing it from him, I realized just how inadequate my previous word choice had been. I glared at him, hoping the expression matched my mood. “A twit hardly describes your behavior these past two nights.”

“Selah, please—”

I jabbed a finger at him. “You stood by while that witch of a princess mocked me in front of everyone!” The memory of their laughter and leering faces stung like whiskey on my freshly lacerated pride. “I know exactly what you are, Henry Fitzalan. You’re nothing but a spineless popinjay!”

His jaw clenched to a scowl. “I challenged every man to a duel after you left. And then told Amelia that our friendship was at an end if she ever spoke against you again.”

Under normal circumstances, I would have given in right then and thrown my arms around his neck. But my anger ran deeper than I ever imagined, and once ignited, was not so easily extinguished. Instead, I met his scowl ounce for ounce. “Is that supposed to make up for my humiliation? Maybe next time you should stand up for me
before
I become the butt of every jest in the room. Believe it or not, Henry, there’s a difference between taking my side and defending your stupid honor.”

He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Some credit would be nice,” he said. “I’ll likely be banned from court once the king hears how I insulted his daughter and courtiers. But that’s the least—”

I gave a derisive snort. “Goodness me, to be cut off from an entire flock of simpering fools. Certainly, you’ll be able to bear it.” I paused for a moment. “Then again, considering your recent behavior, the separation might prove intolerable.”

His eyes narrowed, deepening his scowl. “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

“Then why are you here? Did you think I would forget everything and come running back into your arms?” Gracious, I wanted to, but we had issues to settle first.

Henry let out a slow breath, and I watched as he struggled against his temper. “I’m here for two reasons. First, to beg forgiveness for what happened tonight.” Though somewhat strained, he sounded sincere.

“Fine,” I snapped. “Apology accepted. But you’re still a spineless popinjay.”

A muscle leapt in his jaw. “No one has ever accused me of cowardice before.”

Because no else dared. Every square inch of Henry defied the very term.
I crossed my arms in a huff. “Well, I guess there’s a first for everything.”

A simmering silence hung between us, so intense it felt like we had been separated by a tangible object. My heart pounded uncomfortably, ticking away the seconds that seemed to stretch on for hours as I waited for him to speak next.

“What else would you have me say?” he asked at last.

I gaped at him, surprised that he could be so obtuse.
What else, indeed!

A familiar voice wormed its way into my thoughts.
Henry is no different than my father. Once your power proved inconvenient, he declared it to be unnatural. He will never understand you
. I despised myself for listening, but try as I might, I could not quiet Julian’s suspicions.

Angry tears pricked at my eyes. “Have you already forgotten our argument the night I healed the boy?”

The harsh lines in Henry’s face softened to an expression of profound sadness. Startled by the change, my own anger deflated like a leaky bellows, and I suddenly felt very small.

Taking his eyes from mine, he settled his gaze on the floor. “Of course not.”

The voice spoke again, more menacing this time.
How long will it take before he casts you off just as my father did to my mother?

My mouth went dry and a small lump formed in the base of my throat. “And have you changed your mind about what you said?”

Henry spread his hands in supplication. “We may never be able to reconcile our differences from that night—”

A sob wrenched from my throat. Time stood still, and I stared at him, utterly motionless except for the blood pounding in my ears.
Never reconcile.
“No,” I whispered, “please, no.”

“Will you not at least try to understand?”

The blood pounded even louder, and I shook my head to make it stop.

“Be reasonable, Selah! I’m a man for pity’s sake, not some statue carved of stone.”

The walls of the room pressed in like a cage. Desperate to escape, I retreated a step, and bumped my calves into the armchair. Turning toward the door, I made to leave when a hand shot out and grabbed me by the waist.

I jerked back. “Let go!”

He held fast and pulled me to him before I managed another step. “Aren’t we past this yet, or do you plan to run away every time we have a disagreement?”

“I’m not running away,” I cried. “I’m leaving!”

“You’ll do neither until—”

His remaining words came out in a grunt of pain as the toe of my shoe cracked into his shin. Feeling his hold slacken, I turned toward the door, when my feet flew up from floor. Before I realized what was happening, I found myself cradled in Henry’s arms, pressed hard to his chest.

My breath came in rapid, shallow gasps. Wrestling my hands free, I beat against him. “Put me down! I won’t stay here!”

Henry’s arms tightened around me. “Oh, yes you will. You’ll stay until I’m done speaking. Then you can decide whether or not to leave.”

He might as well have been made of stone, and his arms iron manacles for all the chance I had of escaping. I stopped struggling and tried to gain my freedom another way. “Henry, please let me go,” I said, forcing each word past the painful lump in my throat. “I can’t stay here any longer.”

“Why not?” he asked incredulously.

“Because I can’t bear what you have to say.” I squirmed again, only to feel his arms grow tighter. “Let me go,” I sobbed. “Julian tried to warn me, but I refused to listen. I never believed you could do this to me.”

“Do what?” Henry asked, his voice growing louder with exasperation.

“Toss me aside the first time my gift proved inconvenient!”

Henry inhaled a sharp breath. “Dear Lord, Selah. Is that what you thought I meant?” He sank into the armchair, holding me firmly on his lap. Moving one hand to my head, he pulled me close enough to press his mouth into my hair. “You’re shaking all over.”

Small spasms radiated from deep inside me, spreading to every muscle until my body quaked from head to toe. Even my voice shook when I next spoke. “You said yourself that we could never reconcile our differences.”

“And you took my words at their very worst without allowing me the chance to finish. What I meant is that I will never be able accept the thought of losing you.” He kept his mouth close while he spoke, warming my skin with his breath. “My every instinct is to protect you, yet one day I might be expected to stand by and let you die. The idea terrifies me beyond reason, and if that makes me a coward, then so be it. I love you too much to feel differently or to make peace with that part of your gift. In that alone, I meant we could never reconcile our differences. Nothing else.”