“I’m glad to hear that,” Simon said, and tried to wipe the nervous look from his face.
# # #
They stopped once for something to eat and were in Newmarket by early afternoon. By the time the carriage was rolling down the lane that led to the O’Rourke’s cottage, Simon could no longer hide his anxiety about meeting Claire’s father.
What would Liam say? Simon knew Claire’s family had never suspected the true relationship between their daughter and the boy they had treated like a son. They had believed the two regarded each other as siblings, and Simon had to admit that he and Claire had done everything possible to foster that misunderstanding.
He had deceived the one man in the world he loved and admired. The man who had always stood by him, who had been the only father he had ever known. Liam would think Simon had betrayed him, and Simon wouldn’t blame him if he did.
It would hurt Simon to his very soul if Liam turned on him. But even should that happen, Simon wasn’t sorry for what they had done. Claire and he belonged together, and nothing could ever change that. Even if Liam hated him, he would not have done things differently.
Next to him Claire slid to the front of her seat and said happily, “We’re here!”
Simon looked at her glowing face. She at least had no doubts about her reception. The blame for what they had done wouldn’t fall on her. Nor should it. Simon knew he was the responsible party, and so would the O’Rourkes.
“Look, Simon,” Claire said. “There’s Mama!”
Simon glanced out the window and saw Elise, scissors in hand, standing next to the neat row of irises that marched across the front of the cottage.
“Wait until the horses stop and Jeffries can open the door for you,” Jarvis said sharply, as Claire looked about to jump out of the carriage.
The horses stopped, Claire opened the door and jumped out. “Mama,” she cried. “We’re home!”
Elise dropped the scissors she had been holding and came running toward the coach. Claire ran toward her as well, and the two of them came together in a tight hug.
“Claire!” Elise kept saying. “It’s you! It’s really you!”
“It’s so good to see you, Mama!” Claire pulled away so she could look into Elise’s face. “I hope you weren’t too worried. Simon did send you a letter. You got it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, we got it, but of course we’ve been worried. Just imagining the two of you, all alone, heading for Scotland, was terrifying. On a public mail coach! I was petrified.”
“Simon took good care of me, Mama,” Claire assured her. She finally turned and saw Simon standing quietly ten feet away. “Simon, come and say hello to Mama,” she said with a radiant smile.
Simon approached cautiously, prepared to be met with anger and reproach. Instead Elise opened her arms wide and said, “Simon! Thank God the both of you are safe.” Relief flooded Simon’s heart, his long legs covered the ground between them, then he was safe in Elise’s arms.
“I’m sorry we frightened you,” he said, his mouth next to her ear.
“And well you should be,” she retorted. But her arms tightened and he felt the knot that had been in his stomach ever since they left Jarvis House begin to loosen.
From behind him Richard Jarvis’ deep, authoritative voice said, “I assume this lady is your mother, Claire?”
Simon stepped back and turned to his uncle. “I’m sorry, Uncle Richard. Mrs. O’Rourke, this is my uncle, Richard Jarvis. He was good enough to send his carriage to bring us back from Carlisle, and he has transported us here today as well.”
Elise smoothed her somewhat disordered hair and smiled at the banker, holding out her hand. “Thank you for coming to the rescue of my children, Mr. Jarvis,” she said.
“Let me assure you I did not assist in this elopement, Mrs. O’Rourke,” Jarvis said. “My only involvement was to return them to you.”
Elise took back her hand and collected herself. “My goodness, we can’t keep standing here in the yard. Please, won’t you come into the house, Mr. Jarvis. I’m certain you could use a cup of tea after so long a journey.”
“Thank you, Mrs. O’Rourke, I could.”
“Simon,” Elise said. “Liam is at the farm. Could you find him and bring him home?”
When Elise spoke in the tone Simon and Claire had secretly designated as her
I am the daughter of the Comte de Sevigny
voice, you did not ask questions. “Of course,” Simon said, hoping his dismay didn’t show on his face. He would have much preferred to meet Liam while he was with Claire.
She gave him a sympathetic smile as she moved toward the house with her mother and Jarvis, but she didn’t offer to accompany him. He was on his own, and he started off down the hill that would bring him to the stud farm with his chin up and his shoulders back, like a soldier going into battle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Simon found Liam in one of the barns watching the blacksmith put shoes on one of Fergus’ most promising yearlings. Their old blacksmith had retired and left the business to his son, and Liam wanted to make certain the young man wasn’t holding the horses’ legs up for too long. He was so intent on watching he didn’t notice Simon until Simon spoke his name.
Liam’s head swung around and Simon looked back, trying not to look apprehensive.
“Simon!” Liam said. He looked over the boy’s shoulder. “Where is Claire?”
“She’s up at the cottage, sir. Mrs. O’Rourke sent me to fetch you.”
Liam said to the blacksmith, “Carry on, Jem.” Then, to the groom who was holding the colt’s halter rope, “put him out in a paddock when he’s done. Give him a chance to move around before you return him to his stall.”
“Yes, sir,” the groom replied.
Liam came over to Simon and put an arm around his shoulders. “Come along with me to the office, Simon. We have things to discuss.”
Simon eyes closed in relief when he felt that strong arm encircle him. He said, “I know you must be angry we ran away, but it was my idea, sir. Claire’s not to blame.”
They stepped out of the stable and into the bright sunshine. Liam said, exasperation in his voice, “Whatever possessed you to elope? Why didn’t you come to me first?”
The words poured out of Simon; it was so important to make Liam understand! “I didn’t come to you because I knew there was nothing you could do to help us. My father would never allow us to marry, and, until I’m twenty-one, I’m under his power. Eloping was the only possible way to circumvent him.” He glanced anxiously at Liam’s profile. “He wanted to send me to Oxford, and I couldn’t bear being separated from Claire again. I was just so sick of school and boys and being away from home.” Simon looked straight ahead, his mouth set hard, his voice a little unsteady. “And I’ll admit it - I was afraid of him. If he ever discovered I loved Claire he would have done something terrible to separate us.” His chin went up. “But we’re legally married now, and there’s nothing he can do about it.”
They had reached the building that held Liam’s office and Simon followed him inside. Once they were in the familiar room, Liam shut the door and took his usual chair behind the big, scarred old desk. Simon sat in his own usual seat and thought nostalgically of all the happy hours he had spent here with Liam talking about horses. He desperately wanted Liam to accept him and what he’d done.
Liam pushed a pile of papers away and regarded Simon, his expression very somber. “Something quite unexpected happened while you were gone, Simon, that is going to change your life. And Claire’s life as well.”
Simon had never seen Liam look quite like this. “What is it?” he asked in alarm.
“Your father is dead, dear boy.”
Simon blinked. Had he heard correctly? “My father is dead?” he repeated in bewilderment.
“Yes. It happened two days ago.”
Simon stared into Liam’s eyes, the eyes that were so like Claire’s. “How can that be? He wasn’t that old. And he was perfectly healthy the last time I saw him.”
Liam leaned down and took a bottle out of the bottom drawer of his desk. He poured a small amount into a glass, which had also come from his drawer, and handed it to Simon. “Take a dram, my boy. You’ll need it.”
Simon took the glass. It burned going down, and his eyes watered, but it did energize him. He blinked a few times and said, “That was pretty strong.”
“Irish whiskey. The best.” Liam poured a glass for himself.
Simon had never thought of his father as a mortal being. It had always seemed to him that the earl would be there forever, doing every thing he could to thwart his son’s happiness.
“I would be lying if I said I was sorry,” he said now. He drank the last of the whiskey and stared into the empty glass. “But …” his voice trailed off.
“What is it boyo?” Liam asked gently.
Simon hesitated, then he almost whispered, “It’s that now I’ll never know why he hated me so much.”
Liam reached out and put his hand on Simon’s arm. “It wasn’t your fault, Simon. It was some twisted thing in your father. There has never been anything wrong with you.”
Simon managed a wobbly smile.
Liam leaned back in his chair and said, “He was shot to death, Simon. That’s how he died.”
Simon’s eyes flew open wide. “
Shot? By who?”
Liam finished his own dram of whiskey and said, “This is how it all happened. Once I knew you and Claire were safely out of reach, I sent a letter to the earl where he was staying in Wiltshire informing him of your elopement.”
Simon held onto those words:
Once I knew you were safely out of reach.
Liam had wanted them to get to Scotland! He wasn’t angry about the marriage. A tremendous feeling of relief swept over Simon. He heard Liam’s voice going on and brought his attention back to his words.
“The earl came back to Welbourne in a roaring fury. I’ve never seen him so angry – not even when Elegant Lady got interfered with in the Oaks and didn’t win.”
As Simon knew, his father’s anger at that particular moment in his life had been epic.
Liam continued, “According to the countess, they were having a late dinner when one of the footmen mentioned he had heard shots coming from the abbey woods. The earl said, ‘Shots? Are those damn poachers daring to come into my own woods?’
“The countess said he was like a madman. He jumped to his feet and called for his gun.”
Simon’s face was stunned. “He called for his gun? My father went after the poachers himself? Why would he do such an idiotic thing?”
“I’m thinking he was in the mood to shoot someone, my boy, and he had been railing against those poachers for the entire summer. At any rate, his gun was brought and he strode out of the house, still in his dinner clothes, determined to aid in the capture. The countess tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Liam looked somber. “The poachers had guns of their own, of course, and in the exchange of fire, your father took a bullet in the chest. He lived only a few hours.”
Simon sat in dazed silence, one thought going round and round in his head. My father is dead. My father is dead. He has no power over me anymore. He is dead and I am …
Simon’s head lifted and he stared at Liam in horror. “But if my father is dead that must mean that I … that I ...”
“You are the Earl of Welbourne, Simon. You have been for two days now.”
It was all too much for Simon to take in at once. He looked up at Liam, who had always helped him, and said helplessly, “But I have no idea how to be an earl, Mr. O’Rourke. My father never shared anything with me.”
“You’re a smart lad, and you’ll learn,” Liam said. “Your father’s solicitor and agent will help you. All of the servants at Welbourne will help you. Your uncle will help you, and so will Claire, Elise and I.”
Simon felt his lips tremble and was horribly afraid he was going to cry. He fought a silent battle with himself, then managed to say with calm dignity, “Thank you, Mr. O’Rourke. Thank you for everything you have done for me over the years.”
Liam grinned. “Since I’m now you’re father-in-law, do you think you could call me something more personal than Mr. O’Rourke.”
“W-what do you suggest?” Simon wouldn’t dare to come up with a suggestion of his own.
“Not ‘Da,’ that belongs to Claire. How about just plain ‘Liam?”
The incipient tears threated again and Simon clamped down hard. “I’d like that,” his voice only a little emotional.
“I’d like that too.” Liam sighed. “I hate to land you with this, Simon, but we’re going to have to talk about your father’s funeral. His body has been lying in the icehouse waiting for you to return home to make the decisions.”
Simon was horrified. “I’ve never even been to a funeral. I have no idea what to do.”
“According to Elise, who is the daughter of a Comte, it is going to have to be very elaborate with lots of mourning coaches in the cortege. She says the way he died is sure to cause speculation, as will your elopement and marriage. A properly solemn and respectful funeral will help to demonstrate your fitness to take over the duties of the Earl of Welbourne.”
As Simon listened to what Liam was saying his chest tightened. How on earth was he to organize such a funeral? But a part of him also knew Liam was right, he was going to have to show the world that he and Claire were perfectly capable of assuming the duties required of the Earl and Countess of Welbourne.
“Has a death notice been sent to the papers?” he asked.
“Yes. The countess – er the dowager countess - sent a notice.”
The two men looked at each other.
“Good God,” said Simon in horror. “What am I going to do with my father’s wife?”
“There is a will. You won’t have to make any decisions until the will is read. That will take place after the funeral.”
“And Charlie! What will happen to Charlie?”
“We’ll know more after the will is read,” Liam repeated.
He stood and pushed his chair back under the desk. “Come along, my boy, and we’ll go back to the cottage to see how the women are doing with your uncle.”