Chapter 14
Fourteen
Dearest Caillen,
I’m writing this letter knowing that I will probably never see your glorious smile again in this lifetime.
I cannot express how much I lament over my loss of a chance for a life with you.
I would give anything for just one more glimpse of you laughing with your sisters, especially the free-from-sensor joy I witnessed between you and Robbi when you were unaware of my presence.
Although I behaved in a “lily-livered varlet” fashion while listening to your conversations, I was so enamored by the gaiety you rarely showed in my presence, I couldn’t resist. To spoil your gift of laughter felt like I would be stealing a precious moment between the two of you, and that was one thing I would never do.
Unfortunately, Bredlebane had no such qualms. He stole your regalement for life and defiled your spirit. That day, and the days that followed, haunt my existence. My failure to protect you from such malevolence is my deepest regret.
My thoughts have remained with you throughout my days and nights, wondering if you have escaped the hell in which he bound you.
The very fiber of my soul has been torn to shreds with the lack of information I have on your well-being.
The last letter I received from my mother advised that you were acknowledging the presence of my siblings, and I cannot express the hope her letter gave me for your recovery.
Without further correspondence, however, I find myself sinking into a hole of despair, not for my future, or the chance that we may find our way to be one, but for your happiness.
Your absence in my days is tearing at the very fabric of my heart and soul. If only I could receive word of your happiness, my life will have been worthwhile.
My love and devotion,
Simon
Postscript: I heard your voice today. You screamed at my jailers: ‘You heedless joltheads…!’
I may have laughed through a moment that made them think me mad. It was ever so joyous. Thank you, dear Caillen, for that gift.
—A second letter written to Lady Bredlebane from Lord Astley after his leg was broken during a violent torture session by his French captors.
The letter was dictated to Sébastien, who wrote the letter on the back of a stolen page of a Latin church manuscript said to be written on Sheep’s skin parchment from the 11th century.
The missing pages were never recovered by the French.
“He. Was. Naked! I saw his arse!”
“Shhhh, Robbi,” Caillen whispered. “He’ll hear you.”
“Do you really think he doesn’t know I saw him naked?”
“I’m sure he hopes you didn’t.”
“Pfft. When a man has an arse like that, he should wander the streets of Mayfair without of stitch of clothing and show it off.”
Standing in the garden listening to Caillen and Robbi’s scandalous conversation, Simon’s face grew warm. Good Lord, he’d never be able to face the chit.
“And his—”
“Don’t.” Caillen stopped laughing immediately. “Don’t go any further, young lady.”
“But his—”
“Robina Blair! I will ensure that Ross keeps you in your room for the next year if you say what you’re thinking.”
Robbi opened her mouth to say something, but closed it when she looked at Caillen’s expression, and muttered, “You saw his best side.”
Caillen suddenly turned toward the garden door, biting her bottom lip so hard, he swore she was going to produce blood as she attempted to contain her laughter.
It was then that her eyes met his and she froze.
He wasn’t certain who was more surprised.
Caillen, because she caught him in the act of eavesdropping, or him, because she caught him in the middle of eavesdropping.
He was appallingly unskilled at the art of spying if he was going to be caught red-handed in his own garden eavesdropping on his fiancé and her sister.
Blast.
Caillen delivered a devastatingly beautiful smile that nearly knocked him to his knees. Her emerald, green eyes sparkled with the joy she was feeling at that very moment and he couldn’t help but return her smile with one of his own before silently mouthing, “I love you.”
“What are you looking at?” Robbi asked, her head peeking around Caillen’s shoulder.
He came to his senses in the nick of time and jumped behind the bushes before Robbi spotted him.
“Nothing.” Caillen closed the door.
Simon made his way back into the house through his rooms. His visit to the garden had allowed Caillen the time to get her little sister’s excitement under control. Or, at least, he hoped it was under control. One never knew with Robbi.
He stopped the footman in front of the drawing room doors and spoke in a volume that was certain to carry inside. “Have cook prepare some poached eggs, for Lady Bredlebane, Charlie. She’s feeling a bit hungry.”
“Yes, my lord.” Charlie bowed and walked away.
Simon walked into the drawing room as if the color suffusing his neck had nothing to do with greeting his future sister-in-law after she’d witnessed his other best side. “Good evening, Robbi. What brings you back to call on us this evening?”
“I came to talk to Caillen.”
“Yet, you expected to find her in my rooms?”
“She’s always in your room.”
“Be that as it may, you didn’t knock.”
“But I did, and I heard Caillen laughing so—” Despite having the darkest complexion of the Blair sisters, Robbi blushed almost as prettily as his bride-to-be.
He walked over to Caillen and put his arm around her waist, pleased to see her blush increase, but for the first time there was no hesitation to lean into him. “Under the circumstances, we would like you to be the first one to know that your sister has agreed to be my countess.”
Robbi’s eyes grew almost as wide as they had been when she’d been discussing his nudity. Then she charged them so quickly, he barely had time to steady them for her impact. She hit them both with equal measure, and wrapped her arms around them as if he truly was part of her family.
He grinned and returned the young woman’s embrace with Caillen doing the same. It was a group hug like he’d never experienced, even with his own siblings.
When she finally stepped back, Robbi’s smile began to fade. “I have something to tell you,” she confessed.
“That is never a good statement coming from you,” Caillen said as she took a seat on the settee. Simon went to the sideboard and poured a glass of brandy.
“There is good cause for what I’m about to tell you.”
“Again, there is always good cause, but it doesn’t mean you exercised good judgement.”
Robbi admitted, “I had Charlie deliver a message to Sir Williamson before he left the house.”
Simon stiffened and turned around. “Bloody hell, Robbi.”
Her gaze shot to him. “What?”
“Simon! Don’t curse like that in front of her. She’s still a child.”
An expression of hurt dropped over Robbi’s face like the closing curtain in a play. Robbi turned on Caillen before he could instill some humor in the moment. “I am not a child. I am due to make my debut next year.”
“I spoke out of turn. I meant to say you are an innocent,” Caillen corrected.
“I am hardly that,” Robbi replied with a mocking tone.
“Who do I need to call out?” Simon asked, the low tone of warning in his voice reverberated off the walls.
Her gaze shot to his in alarm. “What? No, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant to say I’ve seen and experienced more of the world than all my sisters combined.” In a lower volume she added, “I haven’t been naked with a man.”
Caillen blushed.
He looked toward the ceiling and spoke to the one entity who would understand. “I’m beginning to understand how much my actions will cost me.” He turned back to the liquor on the sideboard.
Robbi was the sister who’d probably been in more scraps in her life dressed as a boy, than anyone else in her family.
She had not, however, experienced more of life than her sisters Caillen and Iseabail.
The others he couldn’t say. The Blair sisters would probably put he and Ross into early graves.
He poured his drink and then two more, with considerably less brandy.
He handed one glass to Caillen, and then grabbed his own and the third, which held less than a gulp. He handed it to Robbi.
“I’d say we all need a bit of fortification to get through this story.”
“Thank you, Astley.” Robbi grinned as if he had declared her woman enough to handle anything.
Robbi sat down across from Caillen and curled her feet up underneath her. Thankful that she didn’t sit next to her sister, Simon took the seat next to Caillen and allowed their thighs to brush. His actions didn’t go unnoticed by either sister.
“Now tell us, what exactly did the letter to Sir Williamson say and why did you write it?”
“He has been lying to you.”
“He’s the head of the War Office, of course he was lying to us. I’m not certain he knows the truth.” Simon admitted.
“He knows the name of the man who killed father.”
He exchanged a serious look with Caillen. Robbi had said the one thing that would mean more than anything to all her sisters. Caillen was the first to speak. “He said we would probably never know, but that he would continue to dig.”
“Except he was lying. I could see it on his face.”
“What do you mean you could see it?”
“I’ve been studying him for weeks. He has a tell when he lies.”
“A tell? Explain,” Simon said.
“I delivered the first letter you had Caillen write to him.” Robbi paused, before admitting, “I may have read it before I gave it to him.”
“It was sealed,” Caillen said.
“I didn’t break the seal,” Robbi drew back in affront. “I held it up to the light.”
“Because that’s less egregious than breaking the seal?” Her sister fired back.
“It’s how spies do it.”
“Actually, they do it by any means possible,” Simon interjected.
“That’s not helping,” Caillen said.
“If I recall correctly, this wouldn’t be an issue if you had delivered it like you promised.”
“Sorry, darling. I thought you were going to die and didn’t want to leave you.”
He supposed he could forgive her that.
“I’ll remember that for next time I have to read someone’s mail.”