Yours Until Dawn (22 page)

Samantha rested the cup on its saucer, trying to pretend the woman wasn’t echoing her own fears. “I can assure you that there’s no need to fret, my lady. Your son is far more self-sufficient than you would guess.”

“But it’s been nearly three hours. Why hasn’t he returned?”

“Because we’re still here.” At her husband’s glum pronouncement, the marchioness turned her glare on him. He slumped deeper into his chair.

“Then why can’t we go home?” Valerie and Eugenia said almost in unison.

“Oh, please, Papa,” Valerie begged. “We’re so bored!”

Eugenia wadded her lace handkerchief into a ball, her expression hopeful. “Val’s right, Mama. If Gabriel doesn’t want us here, then why don’t we honor his wishes and just go away? Miss Wickersham will still be here to look after him.”

“I don’t see why he needs a nurse,” Honoria blurted out, shooting Samantha an apologetic look. “You could just leave me here and I could take care of him!”

“What about your presentation at court?” her father gently reminded her. “And your coming-out ball?”

Honoria ducked her head, allowing a fall of soft brown curls to veil her pensive profile. She might be more devoted to her brother than her sisters were, but she was still seventeen. “Gabriel needs me more than I need any silly coming-out ball.”

“I have no doubt that you would take excellent care of your brother,” Samantha said, choosing her words with care, “but I’m sure it would give him far greater comfort to know that you’d made your debut and had a chance to find a husband who will adore you as much as he does.”

While Honoria gave her a grateful glance, Gabriel’s mother rose and paced to the French window that had been left cracked open to invite a breeze into the stuffy parlor.

She stood gazing out into the deepening dusk, her eyes haunted by shadows. “I don’t know how he can bear to go on living like this. Sometimes I think it would have been a blessing if he’d have just—”

“Clarissa!” the marquess barked, sitting up and thumping his walking stick on the floor.

Lady Thornwood whirled around, a hysterical note sharpening her voice. “Oh, why not just say it, Theodore? We all think it, don’t we, every time we look at him.”

Samantha rose to her feet. “Think what?”

Gabriel’s mother turned to face her, her expression fierce. “That it would have been a blessing if my son had died on the deck of that ship. A blessing for his life to have ended cleanly and quickly. Then he wouldn’t have had to go on suffering. He wouldn’t have to go on living this— this miserable half-life as half a man!”

“And how convenient that would have been for you!” A bitter smile touched Samantha’s lips. “After all, your son would have died a hero. Instead of being forced to confront a surly stranger on this beautiful spring afternoon, you could have driven out here to place flowers on his crypt. You could all weep prettily, mourn his tragic loss, and still have your grieving done in time for the first ball of the Season. Tell me, Lady Thornwood—is it Gabriel’s suffering you wish to end? Or your own?”

The marchioness paled as if Samantha had slapped her. “How dare you speak to me so, you presumptuous creature!”

Samantha refused to be cowed. “You can barely stand to look him in the face, can you? Because he’s no longer the golden boy you adored. He can’t play the role of perfect son to your doting mother. So you’re ready to bring the curtain down on his head. Why do you think he’s not here right now?” She swept her accusing gaze around the room before returning it to Gabriel’s mother. “It’s because he knows
exactly
what you’re all thinking every time you look at him. Your son may be blind, my lady, but he’s not stupid.”

As Samantha stood there, her trembling hands clenched into fists, she slowly became aware that Valerie and Eugenia were gaping at her in open-mouthed horror. Honoria’s bottom lip trembled as if she were one sharp word away from bursting into tears.

Shame washed over Samantha. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to regret her words, only the loss of what they had cost her.

She turned to the marquess, lifting her chin to meet his gaze squarely. “Forgive me for my impertinence, my lord. I’ll have my things packed and be ready to travel by morning.”

As she started for the door, the marquess rose to block her path, his bushy eyebrows drawn into a stern line. “Hold on just a minute there, girl. I haven’t dismissed you yet.”

Samantha bowed her head, waiting for him to give her the set-down she deserved for speaking so disrespectfully to his wife.

“Nor will I,” he said. “Judging from the impressive display of temper I just witnessed, you might be exactly what that hard-headed son of mine needs.” Retrieving his walking stick, he brushed past Samantha and headed for the door, leaving her standing in mute shock. “Come, Clarissa, girls. We’re going home.”

Lady Thornwood gasped. “Surely you can’t expect me to go off and just leave Gabriel all alone here.” She shot Samantha a venomous look. “With
her
.”

“The girls are right. He won’t return as long as we’re here.” The marquess’s lips curved in a wry smile, reminding Samantha so much of Gabriel that her heart skipped a beat. “I can’t honestly say that I blame the lad. Who wants a flock of vultures hovering about when you’re fighting for your life? Come, girls. If we hurry, we might just make our beds before midnight.”

Valerie and Eugenia scrambled to obey their father, snatching up reticules, fans, shawls, and bonnets as they went. Giving Samantha one last smoldering look that warned her she would not forget—or forgive—her insolence, the marchioness went sweeping past, her ample bosom jutting out like the prow of a warship. Honoria hesitated in the doorway just long enough to give Samantha a wistful little wave.

As the wheels of their town coach went clattering away down the drive, Samantha was left all alone with only the invalid’s chair for company. She glared at the hateful thing, wanting nothing more than to claw the stuffing out of its horse-hair cushions with her bare hands.

Instead, she lit an Argand lamp and rested it on the table beside the window. She had been standing there for several minutes, her troubled gaze searching the shadows, before she realized what she’d done. It wasn’t as if she could depend upon the lamp’s glow to guide Gabriel home.

Perhaps his mother was right. Perhaps she should send someone out to search for him. But it hardly seemed fair to send the servants out to drag him home as if he were a recalcitrant child who had run away over some petty slight.

What if he didn’t want to be found? What if he was weary to death of everyone trying to impose their expectations on him? His family had made it clear that they only wanted
their
Gabriel back—the man who had strode through life with unswerving confidence, charming his way into every heart he encountered.

Despite her passionate denouncement, was she truly any better than them? She had come to this place believing she wanted only to help him. But she was beginning to question her own motives, to wonder if her selfless devotion was hiding a very selfish heart.

Samantha gazed down at the lamp’s flame. Its flickering light couldn’t guide Gabriel home.

But she could.

Taking up the lamp, she slipped out the French window and into the night.

Samantha struck out for the woods, since that was where Gabriel had disappeared. The lamp, which had seemed so bright in the house, cast a pale glow around her, barely bright enough to hold the shadows at bay. Its flame was dwarfed by the velvety blackness of the moonless night sky, the tangle of branches above her head as she slipped into the woods. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live in such darkness night and day.

As the canopy of branches thickened, blocking out every trace of the sky, her steps slowed. Nightfall had transformed Fairchild Park from an artfully designed landscape into an uncharted wilderness, fraught with perils and terrors. She picked her way over the trunk of a fallen tree, unsettled by the mysterious rustling and the eerie cries of unseen night creatures. She was beginning to yearn for Gabriel’s big, strong body in more ways than one.

“Gabriel?” she called out softly, not wanting to risk the servants back at the house hearing her.

The only answer was a renewed rustling in the underbrush coming from somewhere behind her. Samantha stopped. So did the rustling. She took one tentative step, then another. The rustling resumed. Hoping and praying that it was only her starched petticoats, she held them off the ground and took another step. The rustling grew even louder. She stopped again, her fingers freezing into icy claws around the handle of the lamp. The rustling ceased, only to be replaced by a feral panting, so near Samantha would have sworn she could almost feel the hot breath of some invisible predator on the back of her neck.

There could be no doubt about it.

Someone…or something…was following her.

Mustering all of her courage, she whirled around, swinging the lamp in front of her. “Show yourself!”

A pair of moist brown eyes emerged from the shadows, followed by a wriggling body and a wagging tail.

“Sam!” Samantha breathed, dropping to her knees. “Shame on you, you bad dog!” Despite her rebuke, she scooped the dog into her arms, cradling him to her pounding heart. “I shouldn’t scold, should I?” She straightened, stroking his silky ears. “I suppose you just want to find him, too.”

As she ventured deeper into the woods, calling Gabriel’s name at ever more frequent intervals, she clung to the small collie, reluctant to surrender his comforting warmth. She had been walking for a long time before she realized that there was no way to retrace her steps. She was beginning to believe that Gabriel was probably going to have to send the servants out to look for her when a large structure loomed out of the darkness. Half wood and half stone, it appeared to be some sort of barn or stable, long deserted and long forgotten.

Perhaps it was a place Gabriel had known when he roamed these woods as a boy. A place where he might seek shelter if he stumbled upon it.

Still clutching both the lamp and the dog, Samantha nudged open the door hanging half off its hinges, wincing at its piercing creak.

She held up the lamp, scattering a wan circle of lamplight across ancient oak beams, moldering piles of hay, rotting bridles, and rusty bits hanging on splintered wooden pegs.

No longer able to ignore his wiggling, Samantha put Sam down so he could run around and sniff everything in sight. Except for the mice rustling in the hay, they seemed to be the only living creatures in attendance.

“Gabriel?” she called out, reluctant to disturb the unnatural hush. “Are you here?”

She wandered deeper into the gloom. Near the center of the stable, a rickety wooden ladder disappeared into the darkness above.

Samantha sighed. She had no desire to risk her neck exploring some rotting loft, but there was no point in coming this far and not investigating every possibility. Gabriel might not be here now, but perhaps she would discover some sign that he had been.

Looping her long skirts over her arm and balancing the lamp carefully in one hand, she began the long, awkward ascent up the ladder. Menacing shadows danced ahead of her, fleeing the lamp’s flickering glow. When she finally reached the top and hauled herself onto the dusty planks, she breathed a sign of relief.

The loft appeared to be as deserted as the rest of the stable. There was no sign that anyone had taken shelter there in the past twenty years. The night sky was visible through the square of the open loft door, moonless, but not completely devoid of light. A milky sprinkling of stars had been flung across its inky canopy.

Samantha turned, narrowing her eyes to scan the shadows beneath the beams. Was it her imagination or had she detected a hint of motion? What if Gabriel had sought shelter here after all? What if he had somehow hurt himself and was unable to answer her call? She pressed deeper into the loft, shuddering when a thick veil of cobwebs brushed the top of her head.

“Is anyone here?” she whispered, swinging the lamp ahead of her.

The shadows exploded into motion. Samantha went stumbling backward, surrounded by the frantic whir of leathery wings and high-pitched squeaks. As the startled bats abandoned their roost and went darting toward the open loft door, she instinctively threw up her arms to shield her hair and eyes from their thrashing wings.

The lamp flew from her hand and went sailing over the edge of the loft, landing on the dirt floor below in an explosion of glass. The last of the bats vanished into the night. Spurred on by Sam’s startled yelp and the acrid stench of smoldering lamp oil, Samantha lunged for the ladder, thinking only to extinguish the blaze before it could ignite the hay and engulf the entire stable.

She was a third of the way down the ladder when her foot plunged right through a rotting rung, shattering her balance as well as the wood. She teetered precariously for what seemed like an eternity, poised between despair and hope, then went plummeting backward off the ladder into empty air.

She heard her head strike the floor with a dull thud, heard Sam whimpering as he licked her cheek and nudged her ear with his cold, wet nose, heard the hungry crackling as the flames began to lick at the hay.

“Gabriel?” she whispered, seeing him smiling down at her in the sunlight in the instant before her own world dissolved into darkness.