Chapter Eight
“W hat on earth…?” Chase turned away from the large cabinet in the corner of the yellow morning room and held up one of the objects he’d found inside.
Tessa looked up from where she sat on the floor, carefully wrapping the pieces of porcelain they’d already sorted through and setting them into a wooden crate. She blinked, not believing her eyes in the dim gray light of the rain-soaked afternoon. “Is that…a dragon?”
“I think it’s a teapot.” He turned the brightly colored thing left and right to assess it from all angles. “With a tail and horns.” He frowned. “And feathers.”
“Then say it’s a bird and give it to Lady Bentley. The woman will adore you forever.”
With a grimace, he set it back on its shelf. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
A bubble of laughter rose from Tessa’s lips as she sat back comfortably on one hip.
She’d been at Cuillin for four days, and in that time, Lady Bentley had managed to host a tea for her garden society ladies at the castle, as well as a visit by the library patrons and several drives through the park for various acquaintances, all the while giving suggestions on how to restore the old aviary in the walled garden so it could be sold for a high price. Patiently, Chase had endured it all without complaint. Winnie, equally energetic, had managed to bounce from the stables to the ponds to the archery range with undaunted enthusiasm, with a dedicated Bates faithfully in tow to make certain she didn’t hurt herself. Or burn down the castle after all.
And in those four days, Tessa and Chase had started to sort through the rooms, cataloguing the contents of each in new account books and packing up whatever wasn’t part of the castle estate to separate it from what was. While Chase hadn’t cared about any of the record-keeping, Tessa had insisted upon it. She knew he would need an exact accounting of the furnishings, right down to the last salt cellar spoon, if he planned on never seeing the place again. The estate was entailed and would go to the next Duke of Greysmere, whomever the crown decided that would be, if Chase didn’t marry again and produce a male heir.
They’d carefully avoided the private rooms upstairs where Eleanor and Chase had lived, focusing first on these grand reception rooms instead, which had been closed up and unused even during their brief marriage. Although Tessa had visited them at Cuillin, she couldn’t remember them ever throwing a ball or having guests for a house party. She couldn’t remember them ever having guests of any kind except for her and Eleanor’s parents, who had only visited a handful of times and never for very long. Had their marriage been so strained even then that they couldn’t so much as host a single gathering?
Now she knew what Chase had meant by the castle being haunted, and it wasn’t due to the nighttime noises or moving shadows either, although she had seen plenty of those since her arrival, all of them sending chills up her spine and making the little hairs on her arms stand on end. They had ruined her sleep, too, by waking her in the middle of the night with a start, her heart pounding fiercely and her eyes scanning the dark room, certain someone was there but finding no one. Oh, there were viable explanations for all of it—or at least she tried to convince herself there were: servants’ voices echoing in the stone hallways, the flickering of untended lamps, the wind blowing through cracks in the masonry and around windows that needed to be resealed…and simply the natural unease of sleeping in a strange place. Still, it put her on edge.
It wasn’t like her to be frightened of things that went bump in the night, but being here, in Eleanor’s home, she couldn’t help it. The place was full of bad memories that truly did haunt it and the people in it. Those, and an uncertain future. She was haunted by that herself.
Tessa cast an eye over the decorative pieces lying on the floor around her, waiting to be wrapped up. The porcelain figurines were a wedding gift from Eleanor’s parents, the same exquisite set they had received upon their marriage and Eleanor’s grandparents before them. She bit her bottom lip. “Do you think…?”
“Hmm?” Chase blew the dust off a silver salver tucked high onto a shelf.
“Do you think John and Mary will give these to me when I marry?” She ran a fingertip over the figurine of a shepherdess. “They’re family heirlooms, and I’m not their daughter.”
“Of course you are.”
She looked up and met his gaze, and the look of certainty in his eyes made her heart skip.
“They love you just as much as they loved Eleanor. The fact that you’re cousins and not their own child makes no difference to them.” His eyes softened on her. “They will want you to have them.”
She ignored the knot of emotion he’d just put into her throat and nodded.
“After all,” he continued with a grimace, “if you don’t take them, that leaves Winnie, and they’re probably afraid she’ll use them for target practice.”
Tessa laughed. “She is a handful, I’ll admit.”
“Just like her sister.”
She blew out an exaggerated sigh. “Much worse.”
He leaned back against the wide windowsill, crossed his legs at his ankles, and studied the carpet directly in front of him. “I was thinking we could work upstairs tomorrow. The rest of the reception rooms can be catalogued by Mrs. Kennings and Bates without us, but there are some old trunks in the attic that should be dealt with personally.”
She pulled her legs protectively beneath her. “Eleanor’s trunks.”
He nodded. “I thought you might like to go through them yourself, take what you’d like, and sort out what can be given to charity. We’ll let the servants have the rest.”
“Don’t you want to keep anything?”
“I have more than enough memories of her.”
“That isn’t the same. To have her belongings, things of hers you can hold and touch—”
“No.”
Tessa frowned. “But you loved her, and you should have—”
“No.” He pinned her with a look of such pain that her breath strangled in her throat when he admitted, “I never loved her. Not as she deserved, anyway.”
Tessa’s lips parted as she stared at him. She was at a complete loss for words, but her eyes blurred with hot tears, grieving anew for both him and Eleanor. Everything she thought she knew about their marriage, as strained and problematic as it was, snapped into place in her mind, and she knew he was telling the brutal truth.
Never once had she heard Eleanor admit that she loved Chase. Never had she seen the two of them share anything more than a faint affection—the same shared by friends, and nothing more.
But always, Tessa had believed that Chase loved Eleanor, that it was her cousin who had yet to find love for him, and the realization simply stunned her.
“Perhaps I would have,” he continued quietly, “if we’d had more time together.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps I’m not capable of loving anyone, or letting anyone love me in return.”
“You truly are a nodcock,” she whispered, then swallowed hard.
When his lips twisted at that, he looked away just long enough for her to swipe the back of her hand across her eyes. Thank God he did, because just at that moment, the footman appeared in the doorway, and she straightened her shoulders as she collected herself, not wanting the man to see the unchecked emotions on her face.
“Yes?” Chase pushed himself away from the window.
“Your Grace.” The man nodded in deference. “A visitor has called for Miss Albright.” He darted his gaze to Tessa and gave another nod. “Mr. Robert Renslow.”
Her shoulders slumped. For Robert to show up now, of all moments… The man had rotten timing.
“And speaking of marriage,” Chase muttered beneath his breath as he helped Tessa to her feet. “The bridegroom has arrived.”
He deserved to be scolded for that, but on the heels of his admission about how loveless his marriage had been, Tessa couldn’t find the will anywhere inside her to do it. “I told him he could call on me here,” she explained apologetically, “but I didn’t truly expect him to.”
“But of course he would.” He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The man’s smitten with you.” He released her hand. “Show Mr. Renslow in, Douglas,” Chase ordered the footman, who quickly vanished back into the hall.
“I don’t have to see him,” she protested quickly. Too quickly . Oh, she was happy to see Robert, of course—how could she not be happy when he’d gone to the trouble of coming all the way out to Cuillin just to see her? But she and Chase were finally sharing their true thoughts and troubles, and she didn’t want to lose this newfound intimacy and trust forming between them. “If you don’t want him here, I can ask him to leave.”
“Not at all. I welcome any opportunity to get to know him better.”
That was exactly what she was afraid of. “Be nice,” she ordered.
The rascal had the nerve to look offended. “I’m always nice.”
“Says the man who thinks a swordfight is a perfectly fine way to make an acquaintance,” she grumbled and turned toward the pier glass to fuss with her hairpins.
“Isn’t it?”
She rolled her eyes. With a quick look in the mirror, she gave up on her appearance. Her simple day dress and pelisse would have to do. After all, Robert wasn’t at all smitten with her…was he?
“Just to bring me up to present,” Chase murmured, coming up behind her. “Has he proposed to you yet?”
She frowned at his reflection in the mirror. “Not yet.” Then a terrible thought gripped her, and lips parted with a sharp inhalation. “Do you think that’s why he’s here—to ask your permission?”
“No. He would have asked for me, not you.”
He swept a warm look over her, taking in her simple calico day dress with an approving glimmer in his eyes, as if it were as fine as a ball gown, as if her hair were all in place and freckles didn’t dot her nose and cheeks. A tremble sped through her. Robert had never looked at her that way, as if what mattered wasn’t how plain or expensive the dress but the presence of the woman in it.
That realization triggered a pang of apprehension inside her. If Chase, who should have been like a brother to her, looked upon her that way, then shouldn’t the man who wanted to marry her?
His eyes rested on her face, and he asked quietly, “If he asks, do you want me to give him my permission?”
“No!” The word slipped out before she could stop it. She wheeled around, immediately embarrassed by the outburst. “I mean—he’ll expect me to make up my own mind first before approaching you.”
From the gleam in his eyes, Chase knew she’d just lied to him. But thank God he was too much of a gentleman to call out that untruth.
The footman returned and announced, “Mr. Robert Renslow.”
“Tessa!” Robert swept into the room with a warm smile. “There you are. I hope you don’t mind that I—” He halted when he saw Chase and sketched a stiff bow. “Your Grace.”
“We don’t stand on formalities here,” Chase explained with a smile. “Welcome to Cuillin, although it’s in a bit of a disheveled state.” He gestured apologetically at the objects yet to be packed that sat piled on the Axminster carpet. “Excuse our mess.”
Robert gave Tessa a puzzled look. “I didn’t think to send word ahead to ask if you were receiving visitors. Should I leave?”
“Not at all.” She held out her hands in welcome and let him give them a quick squeeze in greeting. She felt him hesitate, knowing he wanted to kiss her cheek but couldn’t. Not with Chase watching them. Strangely, she felt relieved. “You’re always welcome here, isn’t he, Greysmere?”
“Always,” Chase repeated, but the smile that accompanied that answer seemed anything but genuine.
“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” Robert protested.
“Your visit isn’t an inconvenience at all.” Tessa rested her hand apologetically on Robert’s arm. “And I wouldn’t want to turn you away after you came all this way through the rain and gloom.”
Robert cast a glance around the room at the full wooden crates waiting to be taken away by the footmen and those still waiting to be packed, with piles of burlap for wrapping and crates of straw waiting nearby. His eyes landed on Chase. “Are you planning on redecorating the castle?”
“No,” Chase answered. “Closing it up, actually.”
Robert frowned. “Aren’t you returning to the estate?”
“My future lies elsewhere.” His eyes locked with Tessa’s, and a faint trepidation stirred low in her belly. God help her, but she couldn’t stop herself from comparing the two men…and finding Robert decidedly lacking in comparison. “I’ll leave you to your conversation, then,” Chase continued. “I’ll ask Mrs. Kennings to send up a tea tray to the blue drawing room for you.” His gaze flicked to Robert, and the quirk of a sardonic grin at his lips stirred her unease even more. “Wouldn’t want you to freeze from all that rain and gloom.”
Robert gave a stiff laugh and wiped at the damp hair at his nape that had become a victim of the rain. “I think I’ll live.” Then he added, as if struck by a thought, “I ran into your solicitor this morning on the esplanade. Mr. Porter said you’d served in the wars.”
“Yes.” He stepped his feet apart and put his fist to the small of his back. Tessa stole a quick glance at him. Was he even aware that he’d assume the unyielding posture of a soldier?
“What was it like?” Robert asked.
“Rainy and gloomy.” He smiled tightly. “If you’ll excuse me.”
With a parting nod, his expression impenetrable, Chase left. Tessa frowned as she and Robert watched him go, leaving the doors wide open in his wake.
When Chase’s boot steps could no longer be heard in the hall, Robert leaned over to kiss her. Preoccupied, Tessa turned her head and let his lips land on her cheek. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the doorway, or her thoughts away from Chase. If she had possessed a more self-centered nature, she might have let herself believe that Chase was jealous of Robert, just as she had been of Eleanor. But she knew better than to confuse concern with anything more.
Robert straightened stiffly, then followed her gaze toward the hall. “Have I done something to offend Greysmere? Every time we meet, he gives me a cold reception.”
She mumbled, distracted, “How do you feel about swordfights?”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.” She sighed out a long breath and shook her head. “He’s just difficult to come to know.”
“He doesn’t like me.”
She grimaced. “He doesn’t like most people.”
“Still, he invited me to stay for tea with you.” His eyes gleamed with pleasure at the idea. “I suppose that means we have Greysmere’s blessing of our courtship.”
“We have nothing of the sort,” Tessa countered, her shoulders sinking. She bent down to pick up a piece of burlap that had fallen onto the carpet. “He’s most likely waiting to pounce when we pour the first cups, just so he can interrogate you.” When Robert frowned, she explained, “He’s overly protective of me.”
“Why so?”
She lowered her voice even though she knew no one could overhear. “His wife and child died three years ago.” She picked idly at the burlap. “They drowned in a shipwreck on the Channel. Their bodies were never found.” Her fingers stilled against the cloth as she admitted, “He wants to protect me the way he was unable to protect them, including from you.”
“I don’t blame him.” He squeezed her arm. “I feel rather protective of you myself.”
She shook her head, a bit annoyed at him for dismissing her concerns so patronizingly. “It’s more than that.” Her voice grew impossibly softer. “Because their remains were never found, I don’t think Chase can ever put an end to his grief, or to his worry that harm will come to me and Winnie, as well.”
“Never found, you say? Are you certain?” He gave a faint shake of his head at the idea. “Lots of unidentified bodies wash ashore, sometimes weeks after a wreck, sometimes dozens of miles away. If no one in the local area has a connection to them, or if the local authorities have no way to identify them, they’re often buried in unmarked graves in whatever churchyard is nearby.” His eyes narrowed on her face in contemplation. “Did he send out notices to the coastal villages or investigate any stories of drowned women and children being found along the shore? Surely someone would have made note of finding them.”
“No. He left immediately after the wreck. He didn’t…”
He didn’t even attend the memorial service. She couldn’t utter that aloud. She’d always assumed he’d left because he couldn’t bear the grief of losing the love of his life. But if what he’d confessed to her was true, then it wasn’t grief that drove him away but guilt for not loving Eleanor. Tessa’s heart ached for him and the pain he had suffered—was still suffering.
“Then let me make inquiries along the coast,” Robert offered. “I can hire investigators to send out messages to the local parish rectors, to ask them to check their church burial records. Perhaps one of them has information to share.”
“That’s kind of you, but please don’t.” She doubted Chase could survive reopening those old wounds again.
“As you wish.” He took the burlap from her hand and dropped it onto the pile on the floor next to the half-packed crate. “Let’s make our way to our tea before it gets cold, shall we?” A smirk curled his lips. “After all, if I’m to be interrogated, I’ll need warm cups to fortify me.”
With a distracted nod of acquiescence, still troubled by her earlier exchange with Chase, Tessa placed her hand on his arm so he could escort her from the room.
Just before they reached the hall, he stopped her, cupped her face against his palm, and tilted her head up as his mouth came down to hers, in a proper kiss this time. Tessa caught her breath and didn’t move. When he pulled away, a self-pleased expression lit his face.
Tessa turned her head away as he led her onward into the hall so he wouldn’t see the confused disappointment on her face, because when he’d kissed her, she’d felt nothing.