“Lady Kiri’s sister has enough red in her hair that we can wear similar colors,” Cassie explained. Dropping her voice, she asked, “How should I act with your father?”
He gave her a warm smile. “Just be your lovely self, Catherine.”
She supposed calling her Catherine was a strong hint. They entered the master’s bedroom. For a man who had been tossing the dice with St. Peter the day before, the Earl of Costain was looking very well. He was propped up in bed by pillows and dictating instructions to his secretary.
He was also a remarkably fine-looking man, with the family good looks molded by years of authority. There was humor and intelligence in his eyes as he dismissed the secretary to concentrate on his visitors. Grey would look very like his father someday.
“Come closer to the bed,” Lord Costain ordered. “So it really is you, boy. I wondered if I was hallucinating last night.”
“Not at all, sir.” Grey took his father’s hand with heartfelt, wordless emotion. “I surprised myself with my tenacity.”
“I can’t recall all you told me last night, so I’ll hear more about what happened later.” There was a glint of moisture in the earl’s eyes as he held his son’s hand. His gaze moved to Cassie. “But now I wish to meet your future countess. You’re right, she’s pretty despite the red hair, but you didn’t tell me her name. Introduce us.”
“Sir, allow me to present Miss Catherine St. Ives.” Grey smiled at Cassie. “I’m sure you’ve deduced that this is Lord Costain, Cassie.”
Before she could respond, Costain exclaimed, “Good God, surely you must be Tom St. Ives’s daughter?”
She inhaled sharply. “You knew my father?”
“Indeed I did. We became friends at Eton, and remained so until his untimely death.” The earl shook his head. “I was there the night he met your mother. What a stunner she was. We were all madly in love with her.” He looked nostalgic for a moment before adding, “Of course, that was before I met my wife, who drove all other women from my mind.”
Cassie pressed her hand to her chest as her breathing constricted. She hadn’t expected her distant, half-forgotten past to come to shocking life. “Did you hear what happened to my parents and the rest of my family?”
The earl nodded sadly. “A great tragedy. Damn the French revolutionaries! I knew some of your Montclair relations, too. Fine people even though they were French. By what miracle did you survive?”
“I was out with a nurse when the house was burned down,” she explained. “But I could be an imposter, you know.”
Costain laughed. “Nonsense. You’ve got the St. Ives red hair, and you have a great look of your mother, too.” He offered her his hand. “Well done, Grey. I’m honored to see the St. Ives blood joined with the Sommers family. I’m even reconciled to redheaded grandchildren.”
Cassie took his hand as she fought back tears. She barely managed to say, “Thank you, my lord.”
“There now, I’ve made you cry.” Costain released her hand and settled back in his pillows, looking tired. “Grey, take her off and make her smile again. And send your mother in. I miss her.”
Eyes concerned, Grey offered Cassie his arm and led her away. Outside the room, he ordered the secretary to send for his mother. Then he led Cassie downstairs and into the empty salon. As soon as the door closed, he wrapped his arms around her. “Damn, Cassie! I’m sorry you were upset like that. I had no idea my father had known your parents.”
“It was … a shock,” she said unsteadily as she buried her face in his shoulder. “I feel like …” she searched for words. “Like my arm was amputated and now it’s been reattached. Only this is my life, not my arm.”
“Like a foot that’s gone to sleep and is beginning to wake up,” he murmured as he stroked her back. “Alive but very uncomfortable.”
“Exactly.” She closed her eyes as she struggled for composure. “My family has been dead to me for so long that it never occurred to me that there were other people who remembered them.”
“Maybe it’s not a bad thing to be reminded that this is the world you were born to,” he said softly. “Your father went to Eton, your mother was an enchanting woman who captured the hearts of young Englishmen. You belong to the ton every bit as much as I do, even though we’ve both spent years in exile.”
“The reminder isn’t bad, but it is very uncomfortable.” She sighed. “I felt like such a fraud when your father talked about redheaded grandchildren.”
“We could make it a reality,” Grey said hesitantly. “Or at least try.”
She jerked away from him, even more shocked than by his father’s reminiscences. “What on earth does that mean?”
He was watching her with enigmatic gray eyes. “You’re here as my fiancée, so we could go ahead and get married. We get on well and it would save me having to brave the Marriage Mart.”
She rolled her eyes, needing to turn the issue into a joke. “That is the laziest reason for marrying that I can imagine. Let’s go for that ride. It’s a lovely day and I could use some fresh air.”
He smiled, unperturbed by her rejection of his proposal. “And I’m anxious to see Summerhill. I can’t tell you the number of hours I spent visiting the estate in my mind.”
“And I’m anxious to ride one of those good horses you promised me.” She caught up the skirts of her long riding habit and led the way to the door. Life was complicated. Riding was simple.
She wanted simple.
“Race you to the top of the hill!” Grey called.
Cassie and her mount took off like lightning, her laughter floating behind her. Grey was hard pressed to keep up. She rode as well sidesaddle as astride, and in her flowing golden riding habit, she was far more alluring than as a peddler on a pony.
They reached the hilltop in a dead heat, both of them laughing, and pulled in their horses. “I’ve saved the best for last,” Grey said. “This is the dower house. Sea Grange.” He gestured at the hollow below, where a sprawling stone house overlooked the sea.
Cassie caught her breath. “Look at that river of daffodils pouring down the hill! They’re just starting to bloom everywhere else.”
“Flowers always bloom here first because the house faces south and it’s protected on three sides.” He nudged his horse down the hill. “Other flowers come later, but there’s nothing to match the daffodil glory of spring.”
Cassie started down after Grey. “The house looks older than Summerhill.”
“It is by a couple of centuries. It was a farmhouse originally.” He feasted his eyes on the familiar weathered walls. “I don’t think anyone has lived here since my grandmother, the dowager countess, died three years ago. I wish I’d seen her again.”
“What a waste of a beautiful house.”
“I’ve always thought that when I marry, I’d live here until I inherit,” Grey said. “It’s only a few minutes from the main house, but it has more privacy. And the view!”
“Wise to put a bit of space between a lord and his heir,” she agreed. “The estate seems as well run as it is beautiful. No wonder you love it so much.”
“Though I thought of Summerhill every day of my captivity, I’d still half forgotten just how … connected I feel to this land.” Grey struggled to find the words to explain. “Being here repairs some of the holes in my raveled psyche.”
Cassie gave him a warm, intimate smile. “I can see the difference. You’re acquiring more confidence by the hour.”
“As long as I also acquire more sanity,” he said wryly. “I almost killed Peter this morning. It was horrifying for us both.”
Cassie gasped. “What happened?”
“I’ll explain over lunch. I had the kitchen pack food and drink. I don’t have a key to the dower house, but there’s a porch at the far end where we can eat.”
She nodded agreement and didn’t ask questions until they’d tethered the horses and he brought their
picnic to the side porch. A massive stone table and benches sat there, sunshine pouring over them, and there was a splendid view of the sea.
Cassie sighed with pleasure as she brushed dust and a few leaves from the bench, then sat in a cloud of golden skirts. “I love that the sea is so close. Did you sail as a boy? Dream of being a ship’s captain and seeing the world?”
He laughed and handed her a cup of wine. “My dreams were land bound.”
“Tell me what happened with Peter.”
The memory was painful so he kept his explanation terse. Cassie listened while she ate a ham, cheese, and chutney sandwich. When he finished, she said thoughtfully, “So he’s going to try for a career in the theater. Your parents won’t disown him, I hope?”
“No, though they won’t be pleased. But they have me back as heir, and they want their children to be happy. Elizabeth could have had a far grander marriage than Johnny Langtry, but he’s the one she wanted. If Peter prospers as an actor, they’ll probably buy him his own theater.”
She laughed. “I can imagine someone making a cutting remark about Peter’s acting and your father staring him down with an ‘I am Costain’ expression on his face.”
Grey grinned. “You took his measure well. We Sommerses have our share of pride. The House of Hanover is a collection of upstarts by comparison.”
“Pride, yes, but not arrogance,” she said. “You’ll make a very fine earl, Grey.”
“I hope so. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.” Except Cassie, and he knew better than to say that out loud. Not after she’d recoiled at the suggestion that they could make their betrothal a real one.
He watched the play of light on her richly colored hair, aching to keep her close always. He needed to change her mind. But time was running out.
After a lazy meal in the sunshine, they headed back to the main house. Cassie had loved the ride, the horse, and the beautiful spring day. Most of all, she loved the feeling of wholeness she sensed in Grey.
Though his captivity had been beastly, she suspected that some of the ways it had reshaped his life were good. Certainly any tendency he might have had toward arrogance had been knocked out of him.
The emotional damage would take more time to heal. She guessed that large groups of people would continue to distress him for some time to come, and the incident with Peter proved that his temper was still dangerously close to the surface.
But the foundation of his character was being rebuilt into a structure that was so solid that she need no longer worry about him. Not much, anyhow.
They emerged from the woods and saw a crowd of people gathered in the courtyard outside the entrance to the house. “Those are tenants and neighbors,” Grey exclaimed. “Good God, my father!”
Chapter 37
Grey kicked his horse into a blazing gallop toward the house. Cassie followed only a couple of strides behind, knowing he was right to be afraid. Head injuries were unpredictable, and even though the earl had seemed to be recovering, he might have taken a lethal turn for the worse. This sort of gathering is exactly what might happen when word went out through the neighborhood that a great and beloved man had died.
Thirty or forty people had gathered, but as Cassie drew nearer, she saw that the mood was festive rather than solemn. Yes, it was an impromptu party, with tables holding refreshments set up below the portico. Two men, one of them Peter, were dispensing tankards of drink from casks.
“Here he is!” A cry went up as Grey was spotted racing toward them. “Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray!”
Cassie and Grey realized at the same moment that it was a welcome home party for the long-lost heir to Costain. Waving, Grey slowed his mount to a walk. When Cassie drew up beside him, he said quietly, “News of my miraculous return obviously spread fast. Most of the tenants and local villagers are here.”
His jaw was tight and she guessed that he was feeling crowd panic. “You could ride around the back and go into the house that way,” she suggested. “Then you could call out a greeting from one of the front windows.”
He shook his head. “Sommerses don’t do things like that. If they came here to show that they’re glad I’m alive, I can’t hide away. But please … stay close, Cassie.”
“Are you going to introduce me as your fiancée?” she asked warily. “This lie is spreading faster and faster.”
“I won’t if you’d rather I didn’t, but I’d be amazed if everyone here hasn’t already heard that my beautiful redheaded companion is the next Countess of Costain.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “For someone who has survived on quick wits and guile, you’re remarkably attached to the truth.”
She had to laugh. “Living a life of deception is the reason why I draw a very clear line between truth and lies whenever possible.”
People were pressing forward toward the riders, calling greetings to Grey. Cassie said under her breath, “You’ll feel less overwhelmed if you remain on horseback.”
“True,” he agreed, “but I can’t.”
He dismounted and took the hand of a broad, grizzled farmer who had tears in his eyes. This wasn’t a lord greeting a peasant. This was living proof of a community where the Sommerses of Summerhill were part of a greater fabric. The community had mourned Grey’s apparent death, and now the people celebrated his miraculous return.
The farmer said, “I knew those damned frogs couldn’t kill you!”
“They came very close, Mr. Jackson!” Grey called back.
A heavyset older woman enveloped him in a fierce hug. “Don’t you ever frighten me like that again! You’re not too old to be spanked, young man!”
“And you’re just the woman to do it,” he said with a grin as he hugged her back.
Despite Grey’s warm responses, Cassie saw that he was strung as tight as a harp string. She slid from her mount and moved to stand at his left shoulder. Two young boys emerged from the crowd and took the reins to the horses and led them away.
As Grey had requested, Cassie stayed close, but people were closing in around them, pressing closer and closer. Though the mood was happy, even Cassie grew nervous at the crowding. Concerned for Grey, she grabbed Peter’s arm when he joined them. Under her breath, she said, “Crowds upset him. Take his other side and keep people from getting too close.”
Peter’s brow furrowed. “Grey seems fine.”
“He isn’t!” she retorted. “Please, help him get more space.”
Accepting her word, Peter moved to Grey’s other side to form another barrier to the jostling crowd. Cassie took Grey’s arm. She whispered in his ear, “You need to help your frail fiancée into the house!”
“You, frail?” he said incredulously, but relieved. “A good excuse, though.”
He began to walk through the crowd, shaking hands and accepting hugs with his free arm as he continued to exchange greetings. On his other side, Peter intercepted well-wishers and deflected some of the excitement.
They reached the steps and climbed up to the portico. At the top, Grey turned and raised both hands for silence.
When the hubbub died down, he said in a voice that filled the courtyard, “I can’t describe how much it means to be welcomed home like this. For ten long years, I’ve dreamed of Summerhill. Of my family”—he clapped Peter on the shoulder—“and of my friends. Like you, Mrs. Henry, who made me work in your garden if I was to earn your wonderful gingerbread.”
The crowd laughed while a large woman called back, “Just this once I’ll send a batch to the big house to celebrate your homecoming!”
“If you forget, you’ll find me on your doorstep, hungry,” he promised. His gaze moved across the upturned faces. “I’d think about all the pretty Lloyd daughters. I see that there are two more now than when I left.” More laughter. He added, “Before I forget, I want to say that my father is recovering well from his accident, so you won’t have to deal with me for some time
.”
More cheers and laughter. Cassie watched admiringly as Grey continued talking to his friends and neighbors with wit and charm. He truly was born to Summerhill. These people were proof of how generations of Sommerses had cared for their land and their tenants. How they loved, and were loved in return.
Her eyes stung from a mixture of emotions. Pride in Grey. Envy of his powerful sense of belonging. And regret that she would never see this connection between Grey and his community again, because it really was time for her to leave. Grey had everything he needed right here.
A voice called out, “Tell us what happened, Lord Wyndham, or we’ll make up stories that will curdle milk!”
“Can’t have that.” Grey hesitated. “The story is simple, really, and I have every intention of forgetting the details, so don’t ask me more. Ten years ago I was in Paris and I offended a high government official just as the Truce of Amiens ended. It was a chaotic time, so the official threw me into his own private dungeon out in the country. Ten years of one boring day after another, so there isn’t much to tell. When I finally escaped, I headed north and found a smuggler to bring me home. And here I am.”
“Who’s the lady?” a woman called. “Is she the next countess?”
Grey took Cassie’s hand and drew her forward with a whispered, “Sorry.” Turning to the crowd, he said, “This is Miss Catherine St. Ives of Norfolk, who helped me escape. I hope to persuade her to stay. Will you give her a Dorsetshire welcome?”
The crowd burst into roars and applause while Cassie blushed bright red. Damn her pale redhead’s complexion!
Grey waved a farewell. “Miss St. Ives is tired so I’ll say good-bye and thank you. I shall never forget this day.”
As soon as they were inside and the door closed behind them, he crushed her in his arms and shook. She felt his hammering heart against her breasts. “Thank you for rescuing me once again,” he said roughly. “The welcome was wonderful in theory, but I wouldn’t have lasted much longer without behaving badly.”