Cardiff Siblings 01 - Seven Minutes in Devon (24 page)

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Authors: Catherine Gayle

Tags: #Romance, #Historical Romance, #Regency Romance, #suicide, #tortured artist, #regency series, #blindness

BOOK: Cardiff Siblings 01 - Seven Minutes in Devon
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Morgan’s lips turned down in a frown,
then, and Serena let out a bit of a harrumph. But they didn’t press
the matter any further.

For the next hour, Emma and Serena
worked to teach Morgan how to walk with Kingley by her side, how to
trust him to guide her through the barriers set up across the lawn
and keep her away from harm. Upon successful completion of each
lesson, she rewarded him with a bite of chicken. Kingley pranced
around between them, yapping happily.


Shall we try something to
test us a bit more?” Morgan suggested after a moment. “We could
take Kingley through one of the walks and see how he does with
leading me…and how I do with following him.”

The thought was tempting, but Emma
felt her uncertainty growing by a wide margin. Shouldn’t they
practice more with the current obstacles, making certain that both
Morgan and Kingley were well acquainted with what was expected of
them?


Oh, that sounds lovely,”
Serena said, clapping her hands.

It did. It sounded lovelier than Emma
knew how to handle, because the entire purpose of teaching Kingley
what they’d been teaching him was to give Morgan more freedom, more
ability to move through the world on her own.

Both ladies turned to Emma, and
Morgan’s eyebrows lifted expectantly. “Well?”

She opened her mouth, fully prepared
to regretfully inform the other two that it wasn’t a good idea for
them to push Kingley so much at this point, when the doors of the
great house opened and several of the other houseguests came
out—Sir Henry at the front of them. Then she snapped her jaw closed
again. “Yes, let’s take him for a walk.”

The three of them turned and took off
at once, Morgan holding Kingley’s lead in her right hand and
letting the animal guide her steps.

Almost immediately, Emma regretted her
impetuous decision. Truly, she wasn’t prepared to spend more time
in Sir Henry’s company at the moment, because she didn’t like the
fact that she felt almost nothing in his presence. But was that a
good reason to toss good reason aside and trust that both Morgan
and Kingley were ready for the next step in their training?
Although, Serena and Emma were both along, too. It wasn’t as though
they were sending Morgan and Kingley off on their own with no one
to assist should they encounter problems.

They’d been walking for twenty minutes
or more, with Morgan and Serena keeping up a constant stream of
chatter and Emma trapped within the doubts clouding her mind, when
several male voices cut through.

Angry
male voices.

Emma put her arm out to the side, and
Morgan bumped into it but came to a stop. Serena stopped just as
suddenly, and Morgan tugged on Kingley’s lead.

The three of them stood there for a
moment, listening.


If you need more blunt,
perhaps you should take up a profession like Charles has,” one of
them growled. “You won’t get it from me. Not after—”


Not again!” The new voice
was unmistakable as belonging to Lord Jacob Deering. “You can’t
forget that, can you?”

Emma strained her neck, trying to see
through the thick tree branches to where the men stood. Her efforts
proved fruitless, though. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t see
them.


Why should I, when it was
my money? When it tarnished my name?” Once Lord Jacob had been
identified, it was easy to conclude that this voice must belong to
his brother, Lord Muldaire. “As long as I have breath, you’ll never
see another farthing from my estate.”


Gentlemen, please,” a
third voice cut in, leaving no doubt that it must belong to Mr.
Charles Deering. “You’re brothers. Must you fight like
this?”

A loud crack sounded in the distance,
like a great log splintering in two, causing all three ladies to
jump. Kingley whined, but it was so quiet, Emma doubted the men
could hear the sound. Serena met Emma’s eyes, hers wide and
fearful.

They should walk away. Quickly. But
quietly, too, so as to avoid drawing the men’s notice. This was not
a conversation any of them ought to hear, whether they intended it
or not.


You’ll still help Charles,
though, when he needs it,” Lord Jacob shouted.


I hardly see how anything
to do with Charles matters in this discussion,” Lord Muldaire said
drolly.


You wouldn’t,” his brother
returned. “Care to explain, Charles?”


I…I…” Mr. Deering’s voice
rose in a bit of a panic as he struggled for words.


There’s nothing he ought
to explain!” Lord Muldaire shouted just as another booming crash
sounded in their direction.

With that, Emma and Serena acted as
one, each taking one of Morgan’s arms while she still held
Kingley’s lead, and guiding the lot of them away from the three men
as fast as they could go without drawing notice. Emma didn’t even
care where they were headed, as long as it was well away from the
three men arguing in the woods. By the time they slowed, Emma was
gasping for breath and her pulse hammered within her chest—but she
doubted it was simply from her exertions. It likely had more to do
with what they’d unintentionally eavesdropped upon.


I think,” Morgan said
after a few moments, her eyes as wide as Emma had ever seen them,
“it is best if we do not mention what we heard to
anyone.”


I couldn’t agree more,”
Serena said. She gave an emphatic nod, which made Emma think she
was attempting to convince herself as much as the other two. The
expression she bore when she met Emma’s gaze was one of sheer
panic. “And we ought to get back to the house before we’re
missed.”

They couldn’t return soon enough. Emma
nodded, then looked around. Their surroundings appeared vaguely
familiar, but not really familiar enough for her to have a solid
understanding of their location.


Serena,” she started
slowly. There was no need to make either Kingley or Morgan nervous
about the fact that they were lost, particularly not if they
weren’t truly lost. “Which direction do you think it would be
easiest for us to go?”

Serena’s eyes shot up, more wild with
panic than they’d been earlier. She shook her head.

Heavens, but Serena didn’t know where
they were either. Not one of them knew where they were, so they
couldn’t possibly know how to get back. While Serena was with them,
Emma felt certain that Mr. Cardiff would blame no one but Emma if
anything were to happen to Morgan. What if she tripped over a tree
root or turned an ankle in a rut in the ground? Oh, heavens, this
wasn’t good.

Serena swallowed, casting her eyes
around them. “Why don’t—?”

Before Serena could finish her
question, another loud hammering sound echoed in the distance,
though in the opposite direction from whence they’d come. Kingley
let out an excited yap and took off so fast that Morgan was forced
to go with him or relinquish her grip on his lead. She giggled as
she went, despite the few stumbles she had over tree roots and
broken branches.

Emma and Serena followed behind them,
and after a brief time, Emma started to recognize the recently
broken limbs. Kingley was taking them to the abandoned building
that she and Morgan had chanced upon with Mr. Cardiff and Lord
Jacob last week. This wasn’t precisely where Emma would like to be,
three ladies off in the woods alone with a dog, but at least she
knew her surroundings and could get them back to the manor
house.

Well, she could if Kingley would stop
leading them in the wrong direction.

With each step they took toward the
building, the hammering grew louder. In fact, as they came upon it,
it became perfectly clear that the hammering was coming from inside
it.

Morgan stopped suddenly and turned,
her eyes alight with such joy more intense than Emma had ever seen.
“He’s sculpting!”

With that, she reversed herself and
nudged Kingley forward. They raced to the door, she fumbled for the
handle, then threw it open.


Damn and blast, Deering, I
told you to leave me be,” Mr. Cardiff shouted.

It was the dog’s bark more than
anything else that finally got through Aidan’s frustrations and
alerted him it was not Lord Jacob Deering interrupting his work yet
again, but someone else altogether. He spun around, chisel in hand,
fully prepared to berate Sir Henry or Miss Hathaway, or whoever it
was who’d brought that beast out to the hermitage and decided to
intrude upon him unannounced.

But it was Morgan, not Sir Henry or
Miss Hathaway, standing before him with a smile fit to light the
heavens.

Aidan dropped his chisel and bit back
the oath that had been on the very tip of his tongue. “What are you
doing here? How did you—?”


You
are
sculpting again. Why didn’t you
tell me?” Morgan rushed inside, holding tight to the blasted dog’s
lead in her right hand.

Miss Hathaway and Miss Weston
cautiously stepped inside, each bearing sheepish expressions. Miss
Weston at least had the decency to blush. Neither would meet his
gaze, instead casting their eyes about the floor.


I didn’t want—” Didn’t
want what? To share this part of himself with anyone else,
including Morgan. At least not so soon. He couldn’t say that,
whether it was the truth or not. It would break his sister’s heart
into a thousand pieces, and that was something Aidan could never
bear to do. Never mind the fact that just this once, he wanted to
live his own life, to do what he wished without worrying about how
it would affect his sister. It seemed entirely too self-indulgent.
“I couldn’t—”


What is it?” Morgan asked.
“What are you working on?”

Aidan scraped a hand over his face.
“I—”

Morgan dropped the dog’s lead and
moved closer, reaching out with both hands to touch the marble. She
moved her fingers over the piece with deliberate purpose, dipping
them into the crevasses and gliding over the smooth
expanses—exploring the sculpture as she did anything unfamiliar.
Since her blinding, she’d had to learn to see the world through
touch instead of sight. Her palms and fingers, the tips and the
length of them, helped her to recognize what was before her in a
way Aidan’s eyes never had been able to do.

He watched her now: the studious
crease in her forehead, the glimmer of recognition that added a
sparkle to her gaze, in awe of how she had not only accepted her
new lot in life, but instead had almost embraced it. Instead of
wallowing in misery, as he’d done for so long, she reveled in
learning and becoming more than anyone ever thought she could
be.

This realization struck him as if a
horse had kicked him in the chest. His sister was far from
incapable. She was no longer the fragile girl whom he must
constantly oversee, to be certain she didn’t shatter like a vase
knocked to the floor. Morgan had moved on from that stage of her
life. For that matter, Mother and Niall had, as well. Only Aidan
felt the need to remain permanently in the past—no one
else.

What an arse he was for trying to
protect her so much he was preventing her from living. Preventing
himself from living, as well. Damnation.

In quick succession, Morgan proceeded
to lean in, stretch up, bend almost to the floor, all the while
exploring the piece with her hands. “Aidan, it’s beautiful.” Her
voice was hardly more than a breath, a reverent whisper of
adoration. When she lifted her face, bright tears pooled in her
eyes and fell freely down her cheeks. “It’s been so long. Too
long.”

In that moment, he could no longer see
the scars that had so long marred her delicate beauty. He could see
the beautiful girl she’d once been, unmarred, unbroken,
unfettered.

A sniff sounded behind Morgan, and
Aidan’s head shot up. Miss Hathaway brushed away a tear and stared
at the floor—the perfect image of the marble angel before him, all
the way to the angle of her head. Until that very moment, he hadn’t
realized he’d been sculpting her. It had only been an angel. The
angel he’d begun before had never had a face. Now he saw every
resemblance, right down to the tears streaking their faces—the long
nose, the too-wide mouth, the downturned corners of their
eyes.

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