Chapter Twenty-Nine
H is brother walked over to him and stood above him like a damn specter in the night. Except the sun was shining and Paul wasn’t dead. Alive and breathing, looking nothing like the young man who had run around town making trouble with the ladies of the ton and gambling in London’s dens of iniquity. This man had twice the breadth of that boy, and the beard that covered the bottom half of his face was bushy and wild. His long hair was pulled back into a knot at his nape, showcasing a row of silver hoops running up his left ear. But there was no mistaking those eyes.
Paul reached out to offer him a hand. His eyes were wide and wary. “Malcolm, what the hell are you doing here?”
Malcolm scrambled to his feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Paul ran a hand down his beard. “It’s a long tale. I never meant for you to find out.” His brother sent an exasperated look over his shoulder at Marielle.
“You mean that you are alive? That you left me to believe you were dead?” Malcolm clenched his hands into fists. “That you left me alone in this world at fifteen thinking I was an orphan?” He took a step forward, a volcano of anger propelling him.
He swung out and clocked his brother in the jaw. Paul took the blow without even taking a step back. Blood tricked from the corner of his mouth. But it wasn’t enough to assuage the pain that was burning its way up Malcolm’s chest.
“Bastard!” Malcolm tackled Paul to the sand.
He landed one solid punch to his ribcage before Paul flipped them with a grunt. Adeline screamed his name. But he only saw Paul, his stupid beard hiding his stupid face. Alive and a fucking smuggler.
Paul pushed down on his shoulders. “Stop, Mal. Just stop.”
But Malcolm was far from done venting his anger. He used his legs to roll them again and managed another good punch to Paul’s cheek. He became vaguely aware of more voices shouting as he and Paul rolled around on the ground, taking jabs at each other. Then Paul kneed him in the groin. Malcolm let out a long wheeze.
Paul shoved him down by the shoulders again. Pressing down with all his weight, he straddled Malcolm’s thighs. “Stay down, you stupid bastard. Someone’s going to shoot you or your girl if you don’t stop.”
The mention of Adeline froze him. He struggled to suck in air, but he nodded. Where was Adeline? He craned his neck to look around his brother’s hulking form. Then he saw her. She stood beside Marielle, the older woman’s arm around her shoulders. Malcolm let his body go lax as the fog of his rage slowly cleared.
Paul got off him. “Take him up to the house. Her, too.”
Four strong hands picked him up from the ground. Malcolm’s arms were shoved roughly behind him, and his wrists were tied quickly with rope. The brute squad shoved him forward. “Walk.”
He twisted to see what was happening with Adeline. Marielle still had her by the shoulders, leading her gently behind them. Their gazes collided, and Adeline’s eyes were filled with fear. Christ . “Adeline, I’m all right. Just follow directions.”
She nodded and huddled against Marielle, who said, “Come, let’s go to the house.”
The walk past the rest of the gang was embarrassing as hell. Haddonfield sneered at him with an unholy glee in his eyes. As Malcolm carefully ascended the stairs, he prayed that he wouldn’t lose his balance and fall to his death in front of Adeline. She had been through enough for one morning. Good Lord, how could Paul be alive? And the head of a smuggling gang? And who was the woman, Marielle?
She’d seemed to know all along who he was. Her earlier comments, cryptic at the time, all made sense now. Paul didn’t look the same at all. Long hair and beard aside, his tanned skin, the wrinkles that fanned out from the corners of his eyes, and the sheer breadth and bulk of him all were the antithesis of the lean, elegant young man Malcolm remembered.
Marielle and Adeline walked up next to him and the henchmen as they turned onto the gravel drive that led to the house. Malcolm could hear Adeline asking questions.
“Do you live here? I saw smoke coming from one of the chimneys earlier.”
“ Non , we have a cottage down the coast. Paul thinks the manor is haunted by the ghosts of his family.”
“Malcolm, too,” Adeline replied.
“I didn’t say I thought it was haunted,” he grumbled. “I said it felt too empty, like all that was left was ghosts.”
One of the men, Jacob maybe, looked over at him. “Are you really Paul’s brother?”
Malcolm nodded.
“How come you attacked him? Think you’d be happy to see he’s not dead,” Hank said from Malcolm’s other side with a shake of his head.
Malcolm pressed his lips into a thin line. He didn’t owe these two any explanations. They reached the manor, and Marielle nodded her head to the left. They all trooped around to the back of the house.
“Take off the ropes. He will behave now, won’t you, Lord Kingsbury?” Marielle said to him. “Mr. and Mrs. Ford keep the house. They are not from these parts, so they don’t recognize your brother. He doesn’t go into the village at all. His privacy is a top priority.”
And no wonder, Malcolm thought bitterly. When one was dead, it limited your ability to move about your old haunts. Once his hands were free, he pulled Adeline into his arms. Burying his nose in her hair, he breathed in and out several times, letting the vanilla and mint of her scent soothe his soul.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmured. “All this is my fault. We should have stayed far away from here.”
“Nonsense,” she said by his ear. “You thought this would be safe. You couldn’t have known all that has transpired. Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. Only his heart was bruised.
“All right then, let’s go inside and meet Mr. and Mrs. Ford,” Adeline said. “Let us expel all this nonsense about ghosts. This is your house, and I want to see all the places you played during your childhood.”
He straightened and stared up at the back of the house. He could see his room, the third window on the left. It had an excellent view of the apple orchard. She was right. It was time to let go of old ghosts. Hell, one of them wasn’t a ghost at all. His life had been turned upside down and shaken around like a snow globe. He felt like he was viewing everything through a storm of snowflakes. He gripped Adeline’s hand. Thank God for her. He didn’t think he could walk inside this house and face the past without having his future next to him to keep him steady.
Marielle stepped forward and knocked at the back door before turning the knob and pushing the door open. They entered a large kitchen. “Good morning, Mrs. Ford,” Marielle said.
A fire burned cheerfully in the large fireplace that was the center of one long wall. Everything looked the same as it always had. Two long wooden tables sat in the center of the room. A black cast-iron stove was tucked in one corner, and perpendicular to it, a long counter ran the length of the outer wall, its surface only interrupted by a deep sink with a water pump. The enormous oak cabinet that held all the dishes still took up most of the wall opposite.
Malcolm walked over to it and ran his fingers over the notches carved into one side panel of the cabinet where Mrs. Allen, their housekeeper, had kept track of all their heights, marking them each year on their birthdays. The warm atmosphere enveloped him and further amplified the sense of home that was immediate as he stared at the marks on the cabinet.
“Malcolm.” Adeline placed a hand on his arm.
“Mrs. Ford,” Marielle said. “This is Lord Kingsbury and his wife.”
Mrs. Ford wiped her flour-covered hands down her skirts. “Oh my, pleased to meet you, my lord. I certainly wasn’t expectin’ to have you walk into my kitchen this morning.”
Marielle smiled at the lady. “I found them outside as I was walking up to come visit you. They spent last night in the village.”
Malcolm mentally shook himself from his memories.
He smiled at Mrs. Ford. “I apologize for showing up unexpectedly. This morning, I woke up and could not wait to see the manor. I have been at sea for many years.”
“Yes, we were told. We are happy to have you, my lord. Will you be staying?”
“Yes, for how long, I am not sure.” He glanced over at Adeline. They still had to deal with her father and Bellamy. “Could we have two rooms made up, please?”
“Certainly, please let me show you to a drawing room.” She bustled out of the room.
Malcolm was transported back to his childhood as they walked through the corridors to the front of the house. He couldn’t help but reach out and run his fingers across the blue damask wall coverings, faded with time but so familiar. His mother had loved blue, and most rooms reflected the color in varying shades. They emerged into the front foyer with its vaulted ceiling and large crystal chandelier. The front stairs made a dramatic sweep to the second story. He stopped again, suddenly overwhelmed. His chest ached at the silence.
“Mrs. Ford, do you and your husband reside here full-time? I thought I saw smoke coming from the house earlier,” Adeline asked.
“Yes, ma’am. We have our rooms in the west wing. We have been caring for the house for almost ten years now. Mr. Ford is real handy; he can fix just about anything inside or out. I try to keep the place dust-free. And we have two cats that keep the vermin at bay. This position has been a true blessing for us.”
Mrs. Ford opened the drawing-room door. She headed in and began pulling sheets off the furniture. Adeline and Marielle immediately began to help. Two settees in soft yellow and several upholstered chairs were unveiled.
Malcolm couldn’t help but smile as he sat in one of the chairs. He rubbed his hands down the smooth wooden arms. “I think this is the first time I have ever sat on this furniture. We were not allowed to come into this room as children. My mother was so proud of the silk coverings. This room was expressly for guests.”
“Do you remember when she boxed our ears for fighting with our wooden swords through here?” Paul stood in the doorway, grinning. “Good morning, Mrs. Ford.”
“Good morning, Mr. Bretton. Did you grow up here in Kites Croft?”
“Lord Kingsbury and I were childhood friends,” his brother replied.
Malcolm sobered at the lie. Lost in happy memories, he had almost forgotten his tumult of emotions for one moment. He glared at Paul. Apparently, lying was second nature to him now.
Marielle stepped forward. “Mrs. Ford, would it be possible to get tea and some of that delicious bread you bake every morning?”
“Of course. I have two loaves in the oven right now.” The older lady gathered all the sheets in her arms and left to head back to the kitchen.
“Oh, you’ve brought my bag,” Adeline said. “Thank goodness, I didn’t even realize I had left it behind with all the fracas.”
Paul held it up. “It’s quite the loot you have here. What are you two up to carrying around this much gold?”
“Gold?” three voices said in unison.
Malcolm ran a hand down over his face. Christ. “We ran into some trouble. Which is why I thought to bring her here. Where no one would look for us.”
“Can we do introductions?” Paul asked. “I’ll start. This is my wife, Marielle Bretton. And these are her cousins, Jacob and Hank Tanner.”
Malcolm stood. “This is Adeline Amberley. She is my…my…” Future wife seemed too presumptuous, friend to banal, and he certainly wasn’t going to introduce her as his lover. He looked down at Adeline, hoping for some help.
Her lips twitched. “His damsel in distress?” she offered.
Malcolm laughed. He lifted her fingers to his lips for a quick kiss. “Yes, that’s just it. My damsel in distress.”
“So, she is not your wife?” Marielle asked.
Malcolm shook his head. Not yet.
Paul frowned. “Wait, Amberley? As in the Earl of Rawlings’s daughter?”
Malcolm nodded. “Yes.”
“I can’t believe you are consorting with Rawlings’s daughter.”
“Hang on, I don’t care for your tone, brother.” Malcolm bristled.
Paul pointed an accusing finger at Adeline. “Her father and the Duke of Lavensham ruined my life!”