“Don’t blame yerself,” her husband whispered, pulling her into his arms. “No one saw, much less understood what went on inside his head. Ye couldna have known.”
Nodding, Henrietta felt herself dragged back to the night of her parents’ death.
“Only that is not it, is it?” Connor asked. “Ye don’t wake up from that dream because you feel guilty. It’s something else, isn’t it?”
Henrietta nodded. “If only I knew what.”
“Ye said the expression on Angus’ face reminded ye of something or rather someone.”
Focusing on the expression in the old man’s eyes, Henrietta closed her own and hoped her subconscious would succeed where her waking mind had failed.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the image cleared and broadened, depicting not only eyes but then also a proud nose, a moment later complemented by thin lips pressed together in anger.
Henrietta swallowed. “My uncle,” she whispered, and the blood froze in her veins as the image expanded further.
“Yer uncle?” her husband repeated, an angry growl in his voice. “He looked at ye like that?”
Staring into the night, Henrietta shook her head, goose bumps crawling up her arms and legs. “Not me,” she whispered as a new fear spread through her heart. “Tristan.”
Chapter Forty − A Guardian Angel
“Yer brother?” Connor asked as the significance of her words eluded him. “I don’t understand.”
Suddenly unable to sit still, Henrietta slid out of bed, her feet restless. Pacing the length of the room, she mumbled under her breath as she tried to remember the details of her dream. “I sit in the pantry, my baby brother in my arms, and listen. All I can do is listen. I hear my father’s angry shouting and my mother’s sobs. For a long time, that’s all I hear. Then everything is quiet. Until…”
Watching her with worried eyes, Connor sat at the edge of the bed, wishing there was something he could do. “Until?”
Then she turned to him, her eyes wide with shock and fear that he rushed to her side, his hands coming around her arms, holding her upright as her knees gave out.
When she sagged against him, tears streaming down her face, Connor picked her up. Wincing at the renewed pain in his shoulder, he carried her to the bed and sat her down. Then he knelt in front of her, holding her cold hands in his. “What is it?” he pressed, unable to bear the silence any longer.
His wife took a slow breath and blinked, her eyes finally seeing him. “He’s in danger.”
“Who? Yer brother? Why?” Connor asked before her words once more echoed in his mind. “Because yer uncle looked at him the way Angus looked at me? That doesna mean he’ll try to−”
“But he already did!”
“What?” Shaking his head, Connor took a deep breath, then squeezed her hands to make her look at him. “How d’ye know, Lass? What did ye remember?”
His wife swallowed and once more took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, but…the night my parents died, I remember hearing their voices, then silence and then…a shot rang out. Everyone thought, including me, that my father had slit my mother’s throat and then shot himself.”
“Ye don’t think that’s what happened?”
Shaking her head, she stared at him. “I always thought I remembered wrong. I was a child, barely five years old.” Again, she shook her head. “But I didn’t.”
“Tell me,” Connor pressed, his own heart filling with dread.
“I remember hearing footsteps, going upstairs,” she whispered as though speaking too loudly would bring about a disaster. “I remember hearing those footsteps as they entered every room before returning downstairs. I remember someone cursing under his breath,” she swallowed, her eyes drilling into his, “after I heard the gunshot.” Staring at him, she shook her head. “My father was already dead. Who was that?”
Gritting his teeth, Connor felt his muscles grow tense. “Ye think that someone entered yer home and killed yer parents…and then went upstairs looking for ye?”
Henrietta shook her head. “Not for me. I’m no one. I barely had a dowry to my name. No, not me. My brother.” Pulling her hands from his, she rubbed them over her face. “He was the heir to my father’s title, his estate. The moment my father passed on, Tristan became Viscount Elton.”
Staring at his wife, Connor voiced the thought that had been hanging in the room ever since Tristan’s name had been mentioned. “Ye think it was yer uncle? Ye think he killed his own brother and would’ve killed his nephew had…had ye not hidden him in the pantry?” Toward the end, his voice trailed off as the truth of his words finally sank in.
“Please, tell me I’m insane!” his wife begged as she seized his hands once more. “Please, tell me that my brother is not in danger!”
Holding her pleading gaze, Connor swallowed. “There’s nothing I’d rather say, but I’m afraid there’s merit to yer words, Lass.”
Burying her face in her hands, his wife sobbed. “I know. Deep down, I’ve always known.” Meeting his eyes, she shook her head. “I never trusted my uncle. He has always been a ruthless man, only looking out for his own good.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she sighed. “Tristan was right, and I did not believe him.”
“Believe him what?”
“He would always get into fights, into all sorts of trouble,” she said, more tears streaming down her face as shame filled her eyes. “Again and again, my uncle had to bail him out. I cannot say how often Tristan was injured. Once he almost died. We all thought he was too reckless, too carefree, unable to act as the responsible man we all wanted to see. But it was all a lie.” Wiping the tears from her face, Henrietta looked down at him, her eyes hard. “It was my uncle. All this time, Tristan begged me to believe him, and I never could. Not fully.”
Connor rose to his feet and sat down beside her. “D’ye truly believe this possible? That yer uncle tried to kill him again and again, and yet, Tristan always survived?”
His wife shrugged. “I suppose when Tristan was a child, my uncle’s hands were tied. He couldn’t have killed him under his own roof. But when he became a man, there were other options. It was always a stranger in a tavern or a thief lurking in a dark alley. I don’t know how often Tristan was called out to a duel or robbed.”
Connor frowned, determined to examine this issue rationally before allowing his wife to come to the conclusion that began to seem inevitable. “And he always survived? How? That seems as unusual as all these accidents themselves!”
Henrietta frowned. “I’m not certain. Occasionally, he would mention a friend. I don’t even know his name, but sometimes Tristan would speak of this friend when I was particularly worried about him.” She lifted her head and met Connor’s gaze. “Once he even called him his guardian angel.”
Connor nodded. “I see. Then I suppose it has been that friend who’s been standing between yer brother and an early grave.”
Henrietta swallowed, and her eyes widened. “What if my uncle tries again?”
“We need to put a stop to this,” Connor declared, then took his wife’s hands and looked deep into her eyes. “We’ll go to London and find yer brother, and then we’ll deal with yer uncle.”
Staring into his eyes, Henrietta nodded her head vigorously. “Yes. Thank you. Yes.”
Rising to his feet, Connor stepped toward his closet. “Get dressed,” he said over his shoulder, pulling on his breeches and reaching for a shirt. “I’ll have the carriage readied.”
“No.” On her feet, Henrietta stepped forward, already pulling the nightgown over her head. “We’ll be faster on horseback.”
“Are ye certain, Lass?” Connor asked, trying hard not to look at his naked wife as she changed into a riding habit. “It’ll be a long journey.”
“I’m certain.”
“All right,” he agreed. “I’ll have the horses readied and have a quick talk with Alastair, informing him of our absence. Then we’ll be off.”
&nbs
p; “Thank you,” his wife mumbled again and again until he walked out of their bedchamber.
Fear and hope fighting over dominance of his heart, Connor hurried down the corridor. There was no time to lose. Who knew if his wife’s uncle hadn’t already succeeded? He could only hope that they would not arrive in London too late.
Although Connor didn’t know his brother-in-law, he would do everything in his power to spare his wife the loss of her brother. She had been through enough, and he wasn’t certain her heart could bare losing Tristan.
By God, they had to save him.
Epilogue
London 1806 (or a variation thereof)
Five months earlier
His head throbbed unbearably as Tristan Turner, Viscount Elton, stumbled out into the night. Drunken laughter followed him out the tavern door, and he momentarily covered his ears to shut out the noise.
The man’s fist had come out of nowhere, and Tristan rubbed the aching place on his face where it had connected with his jaw. Had he truly leered at the man’s wife? What kind of a man would bring his wife to a tavern? Tristan couldn’t even remember seeing her. There had been a barmaid. Had she been the man’s wife?
His head buzzed like a beehive, and all he wanted in that moment was a good night’s sleep.
Turning down the street, he squinted his eyes as even the dim light from the street lamps increased the throbbing in his head and stumbled over an uneven cobblestone, almost falling flat on his face.
Tristan cursed under his breath and stopped in his tracks, trying hard to keep upright. The night sounds of the city echoed to his ears, and strangely he wondered what it would feel like to be blind, unable to see what lay ahead. As he listened to the distant sounds of hoof beats and cart wheels, dim voices and music, Tristan felt the skin in the back of his neck begin to prickle.
His eyes snapped open, and he craned his neck, glancing at the shadows that surrounded him.
Had he heard someone breathing behind him? Or had it only been the wind?
Tristan couldn’t be certain. After all, trouble seemed to find him no matter where he went or what hour of the day it was.
Stumbling on, he hoped that he would find a hackney carriage, but looking out through narrow slits, Tristan thought the street appeared almost deserted.
Footsteps echoed behind him, and Tristan spun around.
Instantly, his headache pounded mercilessly and he cringed.
“Don’t you look handsome,” a familiar voice laughed. “Who did you offend this time?”
Sighing in relief, Tristan took a deep breath, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. “Apparently, I leered at another man’s wife.”
Derek chuckled, “With the husband present, I assume?”
“You would assume right,” Tristan admitted although he could do without his friend’s teasing.
After a small eternity, Derek finally stopped laughing. “I’ve known you to do stupid things, but still you never cease to amaze me.”
“If that is the kind of compliment you offer to the ladies,” Tristan snapped, “it’s no wonder they all turn you down.”
Derek’s face sobered, and he swallowed, his eyes shifting to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Tristan mumbled. “It’s been a long night. I did not mean to insult you.”
“I know,” Derek said. “Let me help you home.”
“Thank you.” Allowing his friend to guide his steps, Tristan sighed. “What would I do without you?”
Derek chuckled, “Die an early death, I presume!”
“I suppose you’d presume right.”
About Bree
Bestselling author, Bree Wolf has always been a language enthusiast (though not a grammarian!) and is rarely found without a book in her hand or her fingers glued to a keyboard. Trying to find her way, she has taught English as a second language, travelled abroad and worked at a translation agency as well as a law firm in Ireland. She also spent loooong years obtaining a BA in English and Education and an MA in Specialized Translation while wishing she could simply be a writer. Although there is nothing simple about being a writer, her dreams have finally come true.
“A big thanks to my fairy godmother!”
Currently, Bree has found her new home in the historical romance genre, writing Regency novels and novellas. Enjoying the mix of fact and fiction, she occasionally feels like a puppet master (or mistress? Although that sounds weird!), forcing her characters into ever-new situations that will put their strength, their beliefs, their love to the test, hoping that in the end they will triumph and obtain the happily-ever-after we are all looking for.
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Also By Bree
Historical Romance:
Love's Second Chance Series
#1 Forgotten & Remembered - The Duke's Late Wife
#2 Cursed & Cherished - The Duke's Wilful Wife
#3 Despised & Desired - The Marquess' Passionate Wife
#4 Abandoned & Protected - The Marquis' Tenacious Wife
#5 Ruined & Redeemed - The Earl's Fallen Wife (Coming summer 2017!)
#6 Betrayed & Blessed - The Viscount's Shrewd Wife (Coming fall 2017!)
Middle Grade Adventure:
Airborne Trilogy
#1 Fireflies (Now Perma-free!)
#2 Butterflies
#3 Dragonflies (Coming 2017)
Paranormal Fantasy:
Crescent Rock Series
#1 How to Live and Die in Crescent Rock
#2 How to Love and Hate in Crescent Rock (Coming 2018)
Dear Reader,
Although Henrietta came across as a rather unpleasant lady in book two of this series, I very much enjoyed showing the roots of her opinions. She always makes me remember that people are not always what they seem and that we don't know the events that shaped them.
As you've probably already guessed from the epilogue, we will encounter Henrietta and Connor again when it is time to tell Tristan's story.
So, stay tuned.
In the future novels of this series, the previous couples will often do a short appearance and reveal a little about what they've been doing and (my particular favorite) how many children they have by then! I often consult those readers subscribed to my mailing list with regard to naming the little ones. So, if you would like to put in your vote, sign up!
I have one quick request before you can move on to the sneak-peek of 'The Wrong Brother'.
If you enjoyed this story, would you mind leaving an honest and fair review?
Would it help if I said pretty please with a cherry on top?
In all honesty, reviews and recommendations are so important for attracting new readers, especially for indie authors like me. I would greatly appreciate your support! Thanks so much for reading!
Here is a link that will quickly get you to the review page. (Click me! Click me! Click me!...Okay, I'll stop now!)
All the best to you,
Bree
Love's Second Chance Series - Overview
#1 Forgotten & Remembered - The Duke's Late Wife
One night, they found themselves under some mistletoe. Now he owes her a kiss. And she is determined to claim it.
His heart torn in two, Graham Astor, Duke of Kensington, mourns his wife. As he distances himself from everything that reminds him of happier days lost forever, he comes to realize that there is one thing he cannot run from.
Graham needs a new wife, if only for the sake of his daughter.
Disillusioned
with love, Rosabel only wishes to not remain a burden to her uncle’s family much longer. After seeing her parents’ love turn against them, Rosabel dreams of an independent life as a governess.
But then a stranger asks for her hand in marriage, and to her utter shock her uncle instantly agrees.
Will Rosabel find love after all? Or will the memory of Graham’s late wife keep him from finding happiness?
#2 Cursed & Cherished - The Duke’s Wilful Wife
One night, she stole his kiss. Now, he is determined to steal it back.
Edmond Dunsworth, Duke of Cromwell, is bankrupt. The solution to his problem: a wife with a sizable dowry.
Not worried in the least, Edmond takes his pick. After all, what woman could resist his charms?
Anna Hanford, a merchant’s daughter, is faced with a difficult choice: allow her sister to marry the duke and see her happiness shattered…or marry the duke herself.
Determined to ensure her sister’s future, Anna makes her choice. After all, isn’t marriage just a minor inconvenience in life?
#3 Despised & Desired - The Marquess' Passionate Wife
Long ago, he kept her secret. Now, she will save his soul.
Elsbeth Munford is set to marry the man she loves until an accident destroys her life. Her beauty tainted by ugly scars, Ellie resigns herself to a life of spinsterhood.