Scandalous Scions Two Page 3

  Bronwen nodded.

  “It will rain?” the man said. He looked up at the clear sky. “Impossible.”

  “Not so much,” the driver told him, hammering his fist against the flat head of the dog spike, working it into the hole left by the missing pin to secure the wheel. “She be the witch woman. Most folks around here say she’s got magic. I don’t know about that. If she says it’s going to rain then I, for one, would put the hay in the stable.”

  Agatha bent even more, turning her shoulder to hide her face. Bronwen rested her hand on Agatha’s trembling shoulder. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

  Agatha nodded.

  They headed for the trees, hurrying.

  “A moment!” the man called out.

  Bronwen ignored him.

  “How do I thank you? I don’t know your name!”

  “That suits me just fine!” Bronwen yelled back, just before they made their escape into the trees.

  Chapter Three

  After all Baumgärtner’s talk about the richness and well-founded roots of Northallerton, when the house itself hove into view, Tor felt disappointed.

  It was an ordinary, humble building, not at all like the grand estates Tor had spotted while enduring the interminable train journey from Edinburgh. He examined the many-angled establishment as the carriage eased around the long, sweeping curve leading up to the entrance. The wide curve gave him a view of two sides of the building.

  The house was a jumble of rooflines, planes and chimneys, the brown slate roof melding into brown stone walls almost seamlessly. There were six dormer windows running along the side of the house, the glass shining in the afternoon sun. Two wide, tall façades of stone featured at the front, between the sloping roof. Three dormer windows ranged between the towers.

  There was a pleasing symmetry to the arrangement, even if it wasn’t grand marble. Vines grew up the sides of the house, reaching for the roof. Most of the leaves had dropped.

  The glimpse of the side of the house proved it was as long as it was wide. A conservatory hugged the length of the flank. Beneath the glass and black iron, Tor could see green leaves and bright flowers. Summer still lingered inside. It was a pleasing note.

  The outbuildings and staff quarters hid behind ancient oak trees. He could see them through the trunks and bare branches. The buildings matched the main house—brown stone, brown slate and a welcoming wisp of smoke rising from the chimneys, speaking of warmth and crackling flames inside.

  There was a domestic, peaceful air about the establishment that was novel. Tor decided that he liked it. For now, anyway.

  The carriage came to a gentle halt on the gravel in front of the house. The driver had been delicate in his handling of the vehicle—no heavy braking, no sharp turns, nothing that would stress the wheel and its temporary pin.

  As the carriage came to a stop, the butler emerged, tugging his jacket sleeves into place.

  When Tor had first walked into the bewildering and complex Waverley Train Station in Edinburgh without a companion or servant at his side, he had been reminded that he was expected to open his own doors. He’d adapted quickly. Now, he thrust open the carriage door and stepped onto the gravel. He folded the dock leaf and pushed it into his pocket. He may need it later. The medicinal benefits of the plant were undeniable.

  “I would speak to your master,” he told the butler.

  The man nodded. “Might I have a name to announce you with, my lord?”

  “No,” Tor said.

  The man blinked. “Ah…very well, then, my lord. If you will follow me?”

  Tor nodded.

  The butler turned and marched back into the house.

  The front door, which had seemed humble, was deceptively large. Tor realized how wide and tall it was only when he passed through.

  The space beyond the door was laid with more natural stone, worn to a smooth shine from generations of feet treading upon it. Massive oak beams crossed overhead. To the right, stairs ran up to the second floor, bending back on themselves in the middle. On the landing, wood paneling and plaster were below high windows. The mullioned windows let in the sun, that made the red in the patterned runner winding up the stairs blaze.

  The air was warm and comfortable.

  “This way, my lord,” the butler murmured.

  The room Tor was shown into was a drawing room. A large fireplace held a fire, burned down to white glowing coals. There were signs of occupation. An embroidery box with the lid still open and the lady’s sewing hoop resting against the rim. A book left on a table beside the big chair by the fire. And a more intriguing note—a toy soldier beneath the sofa, with just the black legs with their bright red stripe peeping out.

  Tor had never seen a child’s toy in an adult room before.

  The tension that had been sitting between his shoulders since leaving Edinburgh eased. He was in a far different world from his own, which was just what he sought.

  He moved over to the fire. There were few flames to warm him, although the banked coals put out a ferocious heat. Not that he was cold. He had not been cold since arriving in Britain, although the damp had a way of oozing through to his bones and making them ache.

  After a few long minutes, Tor heard the sound of footsteps on the stones in the hallway. Murmurs.

  The door opened and the man that Tor had to presume was Jasper Thomsett stepped through and shut it once more.

  Tor examined him. Thomsett was the same height as Tor, which few men were. That was where any similarity ended. Thomsett had black, curly hair and black eyes, which he must have got from his mother. He was not as broad across the shoulders.

  His chin, though…

  Tor stirred. “You have my father’s mouth and jaw.”

  Thomsett’s lips parted. His eyes widened. “You are Edvard?”

  “I apologize for arriving unannounced in this way,” Tor said. “The decision was sudden and impulsive. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Thomsett gathered his wits. He straightened his shoulders and moved toward the fire. “Not at all, your Highness, although I confess this is so unexpected I am reeling with astonishment.” He stopped on the other side of the mantel shelf and studied Tor. “You have your father’s eyes and hair.”

  “So I’m told,” Tor said. “I prefer to think of them as my own.”

  Thomsett considered him. “I did not think the two of us would ever meet.”

  “In a properly-ordered world, perhaps not.” Tor rested his hand on the high shelf and stared at the flames. “I’m not sure why I’m here, Thomsett. As you can tell from the lack of retinue about me, it is not an official visit.” He laughed. “Not even the cabbie knew who I was.”

  He thought once more of the woman who had tended to the nettle sting. Her direct look and commanding way. That had been as much of a shock to him as the expectation that he open his own doors. He could still feel the tingle on his hands and wrists from her touch and manipulations.

  Such ability in a woman so young and so common needed further consideration.

  Tor shook himself. Well, he had wished to escape his own world. Clearly, he had succeeded.

  “Have you run away, then?” Thomsett said, his tone light.

  “In a way.”

  Silence.

  Tor glanced at him. “I was touring Scotland. We’ve been gone almost a year from Silkeborg, visiting Europe and beyond.”

  “I heard.” Thomsett’s smile was a ghostly thing. “Your life is reported in English papers, too.”

  “That must gall you,” Tor said.

  Thomsett’s smile was complete this time and just as truthful. “I don’t envy you your life for a moment, your Highness. Not one whit.”

  Tor nodded. “If you feel that way, then perhaps you understand why I am here. There has been a cholera outbreak in Scotland.”

  “That, I had not heard,” Thomsett admitted. “It is bad?”

  “Bad enough that Baumgärtner insisted we abandon the good will tour and move onto
France. I agreed we must leave Scotland, only when it came to it, I couldn’t abide another official visit.” He glanced at Thomsett and away, stirring uncomfortably. “Baumgärtner calls it a good will tour. In reality, it is a wife hunt. At every turn, marriageable maidens are trotted out for me to inspect.”

  “Ah….” Thomsett’s voice was full of sudden understanding. “Then Baumgärtner has not yet retired? I thought he might. He spoke of it when I was in Silkeborg, five years ago.”

  “He would see me married and an heir to secure the title, before considering it. Only, I suspect Baumgärtner thought it would be a matter of months, not years. I have been trying his patience. This tour has been an abrasive reminder of my failure. I could stomach no more of the parade.”

  Thomsett did not respond at once. He turned and looked into the glowing coals. “You may not enjoy being reminded of how similar you are to your father, your Highness, but your impatience is very much like him. My mother told me many times how the yoke of responsibilities and duties chafed him.”

  “While my mother told me how well his army uniform fit him, the day they met.”

  “Was that not the day they wed?” Thomsett asked, his tone gentle.

  “Precisely. She could not look at his face the entire day.” Tor sighed. “I will not say I envy you your childhood because, frankly, I do not. You were raised a bastard in a country that does not treat bastards kindly. Yet you got the better half of my father—his goodwill and his…love.”

  “You had him in your life.” Thomsett gave an impatient wave of his hand. “We could stand here arguing losses on both sides all day. There is no point. It is what it is. If you are running away, your Highness, then you have come here to hide?”

  “Frank words.” Tor hesitated. “Do you mind my landing upon you and yours in this way? I cannot bring myself to think of it as hiding, even in my mind. I would appreciate a moment to…draw breath. I am not sure how long that moment may last. Baumgärtner will find me soon enough.”

  “Sooner than that,” Thomsett replied. “He’s a wily Swiss. Will he not raise an alarm? He could turn the country inside out, looking for you.”

  “I left a note that will delay that reaction,” Tor told him. “He knows I’ve left of my own free will. He just doesn’t know where I’ve gone. With the Scotland leg of the tour canceled because of the cholera outbreak, my next formal engagement is a month away. He won’t panic until closer to that date.”

  Thomsett bent and picked up the poker and stirred the fire to life. Then he laid a log from the copper basket sitting upon the corner of the hearth onto the coals and watched it catch fire. “You are welcome to the hospitality of my home, your Highness, although you may find my company more uncomfortable than the maidens you avoid. We do not know each other at all, despite being united by a single father.”

  “That is a risk I must take, although if I can withstand the company of Silkeborg’s mayor and his councilors, I can surely suffer through yours.”

  Thomsett smiled. “Then I must put you in the room with my tenant farmers and see how long you last with them.”

  “Ah, yes. Baumgärtner told me about the qualifying clause in my father’s will. He was impressed by your handling of the matter.”

  Thomsett pushed his hands into his pockets. “If it is your intention to breathe, as you say, then you cannot be a guest here as yourself.” Thomsett waved toward the window. “It only looks as though there are miles of fields and sheep out there. In fact, this district is a writhing mass of gossips. If word escapes that an Archeduke is staying at Northallerton, it will spread at a speed greater than the London Express. You will have Baumgärtner here on the doorstep inside two days.”

  “I see…” Tor did understand. This was the first time in his life he had been completely alone. It was a heady sensation to walk by himself, unremarked and almost invisible. He’d strolled among trees and heard only his own footsteps. He had stood by the side of a country road and witnessed a silence so complete that the movement of a bird far inside the trees was loud in comparison. He had experienced all of it only by hiding his real identity. That shield must remain in place for such moments to continue. “I could not claim you as my brother, if I am to lie about who I am. You have ensured the world knows who your father is.”

  “You can claim to be a distant cousin.” Thomsett said. “The Princess Annalies, who is my honorary aunt, actually is a cousin to both of us. You would not be lying, your Highness.”

  “If I am to be a distant cousin, then you must stop using my title.”

  “What should I call you then?” Thomsett asked. “‘Lorensburg’ would be just as revealing as ‘your Highness’.”

  “Your family—the extended family, I mean—Baumgärtner explained to me the practice you have of using each other’s first names, within the family.”

  “I should call you Edvard?”

  Tor winced. “That is what my mother called me.”

  “What do your closest friends call you, then?” Thomsett hesitated. “You don’t have close friends,” he finished.

  “None with the degree of intimacy that allows the use of personal names,” Tor admitted. “My father…” It was his turn to hesitate. His father was Thomsett’s father and Thomsett already resented that the man had been absent in his life.

  Thomsett’s eyes narrowed. “He used a different name?”

  “The one name he was permitted to choose for me, after the committee had finished their selections. Tor.”

  “Tor.” Thomsett tried it softly. “Edvard Christoffer…are there any more in there?”

  “Adam for my grandfather. Bernhardt for my mother’s father.”

  “Edvard Christoffer Adam Bernhardt Tor Lorensburg.”

  Tor shook his head. “No one has ever strung them together in that way before.”

  “It is the common man’s practice,” Thomsett replied. “I have the right to call myself Jasper Anson Dominik of Northallerton, or even just Northallerton, although people in these parts would look at me oddly if I did.”

  “Dominik,” Tor repeated, startled. “He gave you his own name?”

  Thomsett’s gaze met his. “That was all I was given.”

  Tor made himself breathe away the tiny note of resentment chiming in his chest. “You spoke truly, a moment ago. We could challenge each other for a month on our respective losses and wounds, if we wanted to.”

  Thomsett stirred and stepped away from the fire. “I and my family will call you Tor. The rest of the world can call you…Besogende.”

  Tor smiled. Thomsett’s accent was not quite right, yet clear enough to recognize the Danish. “I am a visitor, after all.” He could feel the fluttering of warmth in his chest and middle. It was not from the fire, but from the idea that a tiny group of people—Thomsett’s family alone—would use his father’s name for him.

  It pleased him.

  Thomsett glanced at the carriage clock on the mantel shelf. “Your trunks are outside?”

  “I packed a valise. The driver would have given it to your butler, I suppose.” He frowned. “Should I have carried it myself?”

  “Warrick would have seen to it.” Thomsett tugged on the bell pull next to the fire. “Afternoon tea approaches. I will introduce you to Lilly. Afterward, you must meet Seth and the twins.” Thomsett cocked his head. “Do children bother you?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Tor said. “I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to one directly.”

  Thomsett shrugged. “We don’t keep our children in the nursery all day. You’ll learn quickly enough how to deal with them.”

  Tor glanced at the toy soldier on the floor beneath the sofa once more. “It is all very new to me,” he admitted. He met Thomsett’s gaze. “Newness pleases me.”

  Thomsett put his hand to his temple, as if he had just remembered something. “Oh lord, Bronwen…” He dropped his hand and straightened. “You most likely won’t meet Bronwen until supper tonight. If then.” He gave a self-conscious laugh. “You
say newness pleases you, only Bronwen will test your resolve, your…Tor.”

  Tor shook his head. “The newer, the better,” he said firmly.

  “You say that now,” Thomsett replied as the butler, Warrick, stepped into the room. “Wait until supper,” he added, his tone one of warning.

  Chapter Four

  Jasper arrived not long after Fisher had brought Lilly the extra blanket from the linen press and tucked it around her legs.

  Jasper dropped to his knee next to the chaise longe Lilly lay upon and kissed her. It was a warm, slow kiss, that made her heart stir and her body to tighten.

  Then, with a regretful expression, he settled back and brushed a stray hair from her cheek. His gaze moved over her face.

  “I am well,” she assured him, answering his unspoken question. “I am tired, though. We’ve been back from Cornwall for a week and I cannot sleep enough. I don’t know why. This year’s Gathering was placid compared to some years.”

  Jasper smiled, only it didn’t reach his eyes. “The usual hell-raisers were not on hand this year. They’ve scattered about the world on their adventures.” He picked up her hand, his fingers warm and strong. “You’ve been through a physical ordeal that would tax even strong men, Lilly. Give yourself time.”

  Lilly thought of the tiny new grave in the family plot, at the top of the dale. Her throat tightened and her eyes stung. She wiped them with her free hand. “I’m sorry. I do this even with the most lateral of references…”

  Jasper cupped her cheek. Pain showed in his eyes. “Me, too,” he admitted. “I know a man should not admit to that, but I do. No one has caught me at it, yet, although there have been close calls. I miss George, too.”

  “He wasn’t with us for more than a day, yet there is a hole here.” She touched her chest.

  Jasper’s hand squeezed hers. “I may have found a distraction for you.”

  “Beyond Bronwen’s escapades?” Lilly asked.