Chapter 15
Sam wanted to throw something, hurl it as hard as she could into the dying fire in Cummings’ study hearth—unfortunately, everything in the room was worth far more than she.
Had her father not instilled in her and Jude how little he valued their existence?
No, she would never treat another’s possessions with the wanton disregard her father had with his own children.
Her feet pounded against the hardwood as she carved a path back and forth before the hearth, her cheeks aflame, but Sam was too preoccupied to notice beyond the fire that coursed through her veins.
True, no person was a possession, but to be wanted, to be cherished, to be treasured as much as Lord Cartwright—or even Lord Cummings—did the objects he collected would fill her with a sense of belonging, especially now with Jude leaving her.
No one seemed to understand the deep-rooted isolation Sam experienced every time Jude was not by her side.
It had rocked Sam to her core when she had departed the dining room, trailing the other women, only to walk straight into Lord Beauchamp.
She’d prayed he’d left Hollybrooke after their confrontation that morning, but it seemed he was naive enough to think staying in residence would win him some sort of forgiveness from his daughters.
And it very well might from Jude, but Sam was in no way ready to hear the viscount’s rationalizations for the deplorable neglect of his family.
Yet, Beauchamp wasn’t any more family to her and Jude than the man who swept their chimney flue at Craven House—actually, at least Sam recognized that man, knew his name and disposition… Beauchamp was a perfect stranger.
An imperfect stranger.
How could the scoundrel think that showing up at Hollybrooke would gain him anything?
The notion had Sam coming up short and halting her frantic pacing. Beauchamp must certainly expect something from her—or worse, Jude. What other reason could he have for accepting Marce’s invitation?
Sam had fled the others, needing a private, quiet place to think and mull over what she was to do next.
Cummings’ study was far enough from the other guests to afford her the privacy and silence she craved.
No one would search for her here. It was likely Jude had been called from her own celebration to locate her twin.
She had been far more reserved and distant since their arrival at Cummings’ estate.
Sam understood. Jude hadn’t meant to leave Sam out or make her feel unwanted; unfortunately, that was precisely what Sam was fighting.
No longer did she and Jude stay up late, exchanging gossip and giggling until the morning sun began to light the London sky.
No, now, Jude shared those talks with Lord Cartwright, the man she loved.
Regrettably, she did envy her sister’s happiness.
Though they’d been without a mother or father, at least they had one another; which at times was preferable. A sister was superior to a friend, as well—they could bicker, argue, and disagree, but always come back to one another.
Jude had always recognized Sam’s need to garner the favor of those around her. Her twin had even gladly accepted her place in Sam’s shadow at society entertainments.
Fresh tears fell once more. Sam hadn’t felt them rising through her anger, but now they streamed down her cheeks, creating burning trails until they fell from her chin.
Sam brushed the moisture away. She need only stay strong until Jude was properly wed on the morrow, then she could return to London and live as she had the last year.
Yes, a side of her bedchamber would be empty, but she could fill it with new baubles—maybe even a permanent bathing tub.
Certainly, her days and evenings would be lonely without Jude for company, but Sam could spend more time with Lady Chastain—or possibly take a suitor or two, there were always gentlemen seeking her favor.
And there was always Payton. Her young sister would need guidance as she prepared to enter society—why could Sam not dedicate her time to this good deed?
Though, only scarcely a year younger than Sam and Jude, Payton was no longer the child Sam seemed to think of her as.
However, none of those things would fill the spot where a part of her heart would be missing—not gone, but far away and out of reach.
Would Payton agree to share a bedchamber with her if she begged?
Sam shuddered at the thought. Heavens no.
What of Lord Beauchamp? Had he spoken with Jude, convinced her he was sorry for all he’d done? All he hadn’t done. Did he actually feel remorse for the past—deserting a woman he’d claimed to love and the children that love had brought into existence?
It was all too overwhelming.
Sam rubbed her temples to alleviate the pounding in her head. While it soothed some of the ache, it did nothing to realign her swirling thoughts.
There was no reason for her to join the gathering in the drawing room.
Nor could she seek out her chambers. Her siblings would not allow her to wallow in self-pity.
They would demand she talk to them about her pain, her anguish, and her despair.
Sam wasn’t prepared to labor through such a conversation as yet—may never be ready to discuss her father’s appearance and her twin’s coming departure.
She stared into the flames as they licked at the logs, throwing a wave of heat across her skin. It would be so easy to allow them to engulf her—extinguish her sorrow, wipe it from her being.
Taking a step closer, Sam begged the blaze to draw out her grief. To take it from within her and destroy it in its flames.
“I suspected I’d find you here.”
Sam yelped in surprise.
The deep, whispered words had her taking a step back from the hearth as she patted her hair back into place before turning.
She hadn’t heard the study door open and then close behind Elijah, but a part of her soared to see him there—certainly not her heart, but some part of her recognized what he offered her.
“I met your father, Lord Beauchamp.” He continued toward her before stepping to her side and turning to stare into the hearth. “Is he the cause of your pain?”
Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the fire and avoiding the man beside her.
Sam was uncertain how much to share with Eli.
He was only slightly less the stranger than Beauchamp; however, he’d proven his caring and compassionate ways.
“A great portion of it, yes.” Her voice quaked, betraying the hurt she’d attempted to hide.
“Why? I would assume a person would feel a measure of happiness to see their father.”
“Of course, any other person might…though, today was the first time I’ve ever laid eyes on the man.
” She didn’t dare glance in Eli’s direction, couldn’t handle the pity she would see in his eyes.
It would only serve to crush her more. “Jude and I have known his name, obviously, as we share it, but he has never been a part of us.”
“Us?” His tone remained quiet.
“Craven House—Marce, Garrett, Jude, Payton and me. And before she passed away, our mother. Beauchamp walked away, leaving us all, to take his place as viscount. His father gave him the option of marrying a proper lady and one day taking his place as Viscount Beauchamp, or being left with only what was entailed to his estate and not a shilling more.” Sam sighed, bringing her hands forward toward the heat as a chill ran down her spine.
“He chose the option that afforded him the most—his family lands, holdings, and coins. He married soon after we were born.”
“I am sorry.”
“As am I. However, none of this is your doing, my lord.” Sam turned toward the darkened room, putting the glow from the fire at her back and a shadow masking her face.
“But I often wonder if he ever thought of us—rode past Craven House hoping to see us outside. Did he remember our birthday or see a jewelry chest in a shop and long to buy it for us?”
“Something you cannot know unless you ask,” Eli replied. He remained facing the flames, giving her a piece of the privacy she needed.
“That is easy for you to say. You know nothing of such heartbreak, of growing up knowing your father was so close but didn’t care enough to seek you out or want any type of relationship.
” Sam shook her head, exhaling to calm her nerves.
She need remember none of this was Elijah’s fault—but he was the one present, at her side, willing to listen.
“My apologies. I am upset beyond reason. I think it best I retire to my chambers for the evening.”
“I would not, if I were you.”
“And why not?”
“Your brother and Lady Marce are awaiting you there,” he confided. “I slipped past your open door and saw them inside. I feigned a need to seek my own chambers, but snuck down the servants’ stairs to locate you.”
“Why did you think to find me here?” she mumbled, finally risking a glance at him.
“It was either here or on the road leading toward London, and it is dark and cold outside. Not to mention the threat of wild animals on the hunt.” His hand found hers where it hung at her side, his fingers entwining with hers.
“Do not doubt that if I hadn’t found you here, I would have called for a horse and rushed out into the night in search. ”
Sam’s head ached ever more when she allowed a light laugh to pass her lips. “You would risk the wilds of Derbyshire after dusk for me?”
“I would risk far more than that, Samantha.”
“Well, it is a good thing you are not in the place my father was, or mayhap your choice would be altered significantly.” She longed to think the best of Eli, but he was a lord—just as her father was—and she would never think undesirably of him for making a choice that benefited his future and his family name.
“Gentlemen are sometimes put in very hard predicaments. I think I shall retire now. I will seek privacy in Payton’s chambers until I am certain mine are my own once more. ”