27. Chapter 27
Button cleared his throat. “Well, lad … you’ll have a fine time at the palace. What a marvelous opportunity for you!”
Cabot paused for just a moment, breathing deeply, allowing the pain to move through him and then disperse.
Except that it never did, not really.
Button stood in the doorway to Cabot’s bedchamber. One hand was braced casually on the frame; the other held a hanger of freshly stitched cravats made from exceptional opalescent silk — his farewell gift.
Of course, he did not venture farther into the room than the doorjamb.
Cabot continued in his methodical packing. He had many fine suits after his years with Lementeur, and he packed each with the care it deserved. Each layer of superfine or silk had a sheet of linen laid between it. It was an exacting job, and Cabot took care to do it perfectly. Such attention to detail kept the pain at bay.
Except that it didn’t, not really.
Now he turned to Button and gazed at him levelly. “I will be done shortly. If you do not mind the wait, I will bring your tea then.”
Button waved a careless hand and smiled. “Nonsense. I managed to make my own tea for most of my long life. I can manage it again.”
Another reference to the difference in their ages. Did Button even recognize his tendency to utter such things anymore, or had it become such an ingrained habit, a way to keep Cabot at a distance, a way to remind himself?
Cabot had never understood it, not when he felt a hundred years older than his puckish, playful master. Not years ago, when he was much younger than he was now, and Button had taken a mentor’s role. Not now, when he was a master himself, as fine a designer as Button himself, if a bit less outrageous.
It hadn’t worked, in the end. All his striving for perfection, secretly believing somewhere inside him that by gaining artistic equality with Button, it would somehow cancel out Button’s fixation with Cabot’s lesser years.
Now, he had achieved the pinnacle of success. He’d been called into service by the Prince Regent himself, to add his genius to the Royal Wardrobe, to bring his talents to bear in dressing one man, and one man only.
And Button would not even allow him to make the tea, one last time.
Cabot turned back to the trunk he was currently filling. As he spread out the fine linen, he listened carefully to the brush of the cloth against his skin. For all these years, he’d longed for the touch of something other than fabric.
Now, with a tightness in his throat and a piercing ache in his chest, he was releasing that dream.
It was time to walk away from love.
The Earl of Arbodean sat in his grand hall, on a fine carved chair, by his massive stone hearth, and gazed sternly at Elektra for a long moment. “Worthington, eh? The name is familiar.”
She had done her best with the mint-green gown, and her hair, with the few minutes she’d been allowed to freshen up in a guest chamber. She was a bit less mussed, a bit less dusty, and on her very best behavior.
Aaron watched her face. She did not seem at all intimidated by the grandeur of Arbodean.
His grandfather had yet to look at him. Aaron supposed that he ought to be grateful to have been allowed within the ancient doors of the hall. A slender woman entered the hall, carrying a tray of tea and cakes.
“Grandfather, let the girl sit.” Serena had a light, musical voice, but time and motherhood had given her a tone of command.
Sourly, the earl waved Elektra to a chair opposite his. Then he slid a glance toward Aaron. “You. Wait outside.” And to Serena as well. “You, too, dear. I wish to hear Miss Worthington tell me why Aaron is not a blackguard.”
Aaron felt his face heat, and for moment he held his ground. He wouldn’t leave Elektra alone if she felt at all uncomfortable.
She smiled easily at him. “It’s quite all right, my lord. The earl and I will become better acquainted.”
Aaron remembered who it was the earl was dealing with and nearly laughed aloud. As he left the room, he heard the earl speak.
“I met an Archimedes Worthington, a very long time ago. Odd fellow, but clever….”
Aaron was still smiling when Serena caught at his arm. “Aaron! When I told you to stay away, I didn’t mean for you to run away with someone’s daughter.”
Aaron stiffened. “From you, Serena? I thought you of all people understood the truth of matters.”
She blushed and released his arm. “I do … now. I admit, when Wells finally told me, I thought he was just in his cups again. Then, I realized how it all fit together. I knew what you had done for me — and for my children.”
Aaron shook his head. “I never meant for you to know at all. Wells made a mistake, but it was his mistake, not yours.”
Serena lifted her head. “My mistake was in not trusting you when you told me to keep my distance from him.”
He looked away. “Well, I may not be the best person to give advice on making wise choices.”
Serena’s gaze sharpened. “She’s very pretty.”
Aaron sighed. “She’s astonishing. And exasperating. Clever. Brave. Quite possibly insane. I cannot bear to lose her.”
His cousin bit her lip. “Oh, dear. It’s like that, is it?”
“Oh, yes. Entirely like that.” He rubbed his hand over his face and admitted his greatest fear out loud. “But I am not what she wants.”
Serena snorted. “Perhaps she is not as clever as you think her, then.”
Aaron shook his head. “I will always be Black Aaron, Serena. I will always be the uncle that people whisper about behind the boys’ backs. If I were to have children of my own, they would always be known as Black Aaron’s get. How can I ask a woman to wed herself to that?”
Serena put her hand on his arm, but she had no comfort to offer that would erase the unavoidable. She left him there to linger in the hall, wishing he could hear what went on behind closed doors.
Then those doors opened and he saw Elektra being ushered out by the earl’s own gnarled hand. “Thank you, dear,” he heard the earl say. “Send the boy in now, if you will.”
Elektra spotted him lurking in the shadows and wiggled her fingers at him. “It is your turn to brave the lion’s den. Go on. He’s a sweet old dear, isn’t he?”
Aaron tilted his head. “Not my first choice of description, no.” Then he took her hand, grasping her fingers in his. Her skin was warm, her grip steady. She was frightened of nothing, it seemed.
“What did you tell him?”
Elektra blinked. “I told him everything.”
Aaron swallowed. “Ah. Everything?”
She grinned at him. “Do you fear that I corrupted his innocence? Yes, I told him everything — from the first time I saw you in the inn-yard at the Green Donkey to the moment we sent Carter Masterson packing. He seemed greatly interested in the slightest of details.”
Aaron looked down. “I vowed to Wells that I would keep his secret forever.”
Elektra waved a hand. “Oh, he already knew all about that. Lady Serena told him the truth just today, when he got that ridiculous letter from in the post from Carter and nearly dropped dead from the shock.”
Aaron sucked in a breath. “She did not say. That is unexpected indeed.”
Elektra rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m going to strangle that boy. Do you know that he described me as ‘naive beyond sense’?”
Aaron couldn’t help smiling. “How dare he,” he said mildly.
She turned him about and gave him a bossy little push. “Go on. Don’t keep him waiting. He’s likely to expire any minute. I’ve never in my life met someone so old.”
When Aaron opened the door to the hall, he was still laughing.
When he saw the grave expression upon the earl’s face, his merriment faded away like mist before the midday sun. He bowed. “My lord. You wished to see me?”
The earl waved him in from his seat by the fire. “Sit down.”
Aaron sat opposite him. The earl regarded him in silence for far too long. Aaron fought the urge to fidget like a boy.
“I sent you away.”
Aaron met his grandfather’s narrowed gaze. “Yes. I recall it quite clearly.”
The earl picked up a sheaf of letters from his side table. “These letters of recommendation — are they real?”
Stung, Aaron kept a tight hold on his temper. “Why do you not correspond directly with the men who signed those letters, if you do not trust my word on it?”
The earl waved a hand. “Don’t be so touchy, boy.”
Aaron sighed. “I am not a boy, my lord. I have spent a decade trying to make up for something terrible that happened, but in that time, I have realized that my portion of the blame is not large enough for the punishment I was served. I was a youthful idiot. I was not gentlemanly when it would have served everyone for me to remember my honor, but I did not ruin that poor girl. This you already know, apparently, so why do you still treat me like a liar and a criminal?”
The earl leaned back in his chair. “Well, you’ve certainly learned to hold your temper when prodded. That alone was worth sending you away. You were always such a touchy little sod.”
Aaron seethed, but kept his tongue.
The earl went on. “That girl — she’s a pretty little thing, and not half clever! She told me a tale that made me laugh, it did!”
Aaron frowned, confused. “I’m glad you found it amusing, my lord, but —”
“But I didn’t believe a word of it, of course! Kidnapping you! Ha!” The earl kept chuckling while he sipped his tea.
Aaron sat, his confusion mounting. The earl always made him want to check his weskit for stains. The old man was as straight as a stick, and as conservative as any white-haired statesman could be. Yet, he’d enjoyed the company of the most irreverent, subversive woman Aaron had ever met.
The earl sipped his tea, still chortling. “Lard-Arse!” Snort!
Aaron frowned at his grandfather. “He is in your stables. You can meet him if you like.”
The earl shook a teasing finger at Aaron. “Ha!”
Finally, the chuckles subsided and the earl put down his teacup. He turned his bright gaze upon Aaron. “It was Wells all along, eh?”
Aaron didn’t speak. Others might, and be quite within their rights to do so, but his own vow kept him silent. The earl frowned. Wrinkles folded on wrinkles.
“Oh, relax, boy! You’ve got your place back! You must disregard that Black Aaron nonsense — a man is who he is inside, with no regard for the opinions of outsiders. They used to call me Wild William in the day. I was a lad bent on sin and indulgence!”
Aaron blinked at that. “My lord, my imagination fails me completely.”
The earl snickered. “It was a good woman who settled me down. Your grandmother took a rolling pin to my head once! Crack! Knocked the sense right back into me!”
He became quiet for a moment, gazing into the fire. “She would have done it again, you know, the day I sent you off. She would have reminded me to listen to my own opinions — not to let gossip rule my actions.”
He turned his gaze on Aaron, who was stunned at the sadness he saw there. “Do you know why Serena never told me the truth until today?”
Aaron shook his head, although he had a fairly good notion.
The earl went on. “She said she feared I would send her and her boys away as well. Why would she think a thing like that of me, eh? Because she’d seen me be a stiff-necked fool already, that’s why!”
Aaron suddenly realized what his grandfather meant by having his “place” back. “Are you saying — will I inherit after all?”
“Hmph!” The old man glared at him. “Yes! Did you take too much sun on those islands? You used to be quicker than that!” He waved a hand imperiously. “Now fetch Serena. I’m tired.”
Aaron stood and delivered an admittedly automatic bow. His thoughts whirled in a hurricane. It was over? He would have the means to care for Arbodean? For Serena and her children?
He felt his “place” settle back upon him, like a suit of armor — heavy, but strong. It fit better now than it ever had.
As he left the room, his grandfather called him back.
Aaron turned. “Yes, my lord?”
“That Worthington girl? She must be madly in love with you, if she would tell a great porky-pie to my face like that. She reminds me of your grandmother, you know. If I were your age, I wouldn’t let that one get away.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Unfortunately, Aaron was honor-bound to do exactly that.
Aaron found Elektra on the terrace, gazing out upon the vast starlit gardens. Although her mint-green gown had seen its share of adventure, it remained as elegant as the beauty who wore it.
Elegant and sad. He could see it in the arch of her proud neck and in the sad slope of her graceful shoulders. I have cost her so much. I cannot take any more from her.
He couldn’t bear to think of her spending her life regretting the day she’d seen him in the inn-yard, regretting that she’d had her dreams stolen by a highwayman in the dark.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “It is not too late, you know.”
She turned to smile sadly at him over her shoulder. “I was just thinking the very same thing.”
Her expression was so full of melancholy that it broke his heart. “Neville’s a good sort.” Something twisted tight and hot in his chest, but he forced himself to go on. “I have always liked him.”
She turned fully to face him, leaning her hands behind her on the balustrade. “I like him, too.”
That was like an arrow through his already aching heart. He swallowed, fighting himself, battling the urge to sweep her away again, to gallop off into the night on a horse named Lard-Arse.
She watched him, waiting.
He drew in a tight, painful breath. “No one need know about…” He had to clear his throat. “Your family wouldn’t breathe a word, of course. And Carter is so embarrassed about getting it all so wrong, he simply wants it to go away.”
She leaned her head back to gaze up at the stars. “I suppose I will have to explain to Neville why I am not a virgin. Do you think he’ll mind?”
How could he tell her that a man would forgive her anything for a smile, a laugh, a flash of love in her aquamarine eyes? “I think he’ll be reasonable about it, if he truly loves you.”
She pointed upward. “There’s Orion.” She smiled slightly. “See? My family will always be with me. Do you think Neville will like the Worthingtons?”
“Ah.” Only if he never actually meets them. He cleared his throat. “When he protests, you could simply pour him some of Philpott’s tea.”
That got a smile. She turned her gaze to him at last. “Now, there’s a plan.”
“You can still have everything you want. Neville can help you rebuild your manor. His wealth and standing will make your family simply eccentric, instead of notorious.”
She nodded slowly, but her smile faded. Her gaze never left his. “Yes, that would be good for Attie.”
Aaron cleared his throat again, but he couldn’t disperse the choking knot that fought his next words. “Marry Neville, Elektra.”
“I suppose I have to marry someone, eventually.” She walked slowly toward him, her hands clasped behind her back. Each step brought her closer, until her bodice nearly touched his weskit front. “May I have a kiss good-bye, my lord?” Her whisper danced across the skin below his ear.
Even though her agreement proved that she had never truly loved him, even though his heart felt as if it were bound in white-hot wire, he had to. Just one last taste …
He closed his eyes in grief and bent his head to hers.
She whispered something against his lips. “Stand and deliver, my lord.”
The cold, steel barrel of a pistol pressed to his jaw. He drew in a sharp breath as his eyes flew open to see her dangerous smile.
“What —”
“I’m kidnapping you, Lord Aaron Arbogast. We will ride directly to Gretna Green.” She smirked. “I traded for a fresh horse. I calculate we can be married by supper!”
“But —” He couldn’t believe he was protesting the fulfillment of his deepest dream, but he had to give her one last chance! “What of my reputation? It will not help your family to be associated with me!”
She shrugged carelessly. “The Worthingtons have survived being odd for many years. They’ll survive a little longer.”
He suppressed a smile at that. “Ah, but we do not have a ring!”
Elektra reached into her neckline and pulled out the ribbon that hung there. Alongside the ornately worked key to Worthington Manor hung something else. The gold of Aaron’s signet ring gleamed in the torchlight.
“How did you get that?”
Her eyes narrowed slyly. “I lifted it from the innkeeper’s pocket before we resumed our journey that morning. You were so upset about parting with it.”
His heart freed itself from its last torturous binding with an almost audible snap. Aaron raised one finger to carefully avert the pistol from his head. “Well, there’s no need to be quite so forceful about it.”
She kept the pistol raised, but pointed slightly to one side. “I am taking no chances this time. I stole you away once and you managed to talk me out of it then. Silly man.” She smiled at him, a wild, wicked Worthington grin full of danger and laughter and love. “Don’t you know? Worthingtons always win in the end.”
My goddess Elektra.
Aaron pulled her close and swept her lightly into his arms, pistol and all. He spun them both in a circle of joy as he laughed aloud. “I must be a Worthington, then!”