The Viscount Returns (5 page)

Food scattered on the floor, Robert knew that in his father’s time there would have been a staff on hand cleaning up his father’s wasteful mess. He realized in their present state this was perhaps what his household now saw as a feast. For whatever reason—which he did not understand—his household was impoverished and his lady wife was beyond his reach.

“Why should I not see my wife tonight? Do you think me so heartless? Do you think me a monster?” He did not rely on her answer to see in himself what he had just seen reflected back in his son’s fearful eyes.

“No. Only there is much you do not know.” She stood slowly and tried to reach for him, but Robert turned on his heels and made his way up the stairs before she could say anything else. Allen stood slowly and watched as his friend fled out of sight.

“Mother, please, you need to drink some water.” Sprout held the glass to her, but she would not take it.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Was all she would say, looking into nothing with her glassy eyes. Curled into a ball, she trembled in her pains while she waited for the numbing oblivion to take over.

“I am sorry, Mother, but you always say I am the man of the house, so I figured as man of the house I should greet my own father to dinner.”

Setting the glass of water down on the bedside table, Sprout climbed up into bed with his mother. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled his back into her and together they cried.

“Of course you wanted to see your father and show him the man that you are, but things are not that easy.”

Knowing that it would not do for her boy to see what she needed, Fiona did not keep him there for long. Once the crying had softened into deep comforting breath, she kissed her son on the top of the head and sent him off to bed, promising that things would change with the new day.

Left alone to face her demons, Fiona went to her vanity and drew the bottle out of its hiding place. It would only take a lick to steady her shakes, but little was not what she took. Lifting the bottle to her lips, she drank down one deep swallow. Perhaps it was the coward’s way out of the night, but she needed the shakes to stop and she needed Robert to go away.

Teetering on her feet, she staggered the last few steps, making her way back to the bed and falling into it. Smoothing her red gown over her legs, she enjoyed the smooth sensation of the worn silk under her fingers. Once she had stood at her father-in-laws side being presented to society as his new daughter, but lonely to the room when a wife would normally be escorted about by her husband. Closing her eyes, she welcomed the sweet oblivion. In dreams she could relive that night’s event and this time he would take notice of her as she had always dreamed. Fogged and heavy, the Laudanum worked quick numbing her fingers, legs and mind, but never her broken heart.

He had not heard a woman cry like that since his mother passed. Robert remembered curling up to his mother just as he had seen his own son do with Fiona. Pained that he was somehow the cause of all this still left him bewildered, but he would fix it.

Changing into his dressing gown, he looked over his shoulder to the connecting door. He hoped that she had found some kind of peace. There would be none for him this night. Looking at the floor length mirror, he did not like what he saw. All these years while Robert had been searching out his destiny and becoming a man, he was escaping a responsibility that she had never asked for. They had met one week before the wedding. It was a betrothal never meant for him, but his father wrote their names in the family bible without his permission.

Splashing two fingers of brandy into his glass, he replaced the decanter on the cart and looked out his window, avoiding his reflection the best he could. If his life had been as simple as others in ton, then he would have taken the role that his father had injected him into. She was beautiful and sweet and he had been bewitched by the purity of her heart from the first moment he had seen her. Before he had planned a marriage apart—like his parents and all others of the ton—she would reside in the family estate while he lived in the London town house he would buy with her dowry and keep a mistress and a lover—also paid for by her dowry. It was a simple plan that was expected of him so why could she not be the shallow empty-headed beauty she was supposed to be and accept the life that had served well for much of the ton?

He smiled, remembering how scared she was when he came to her on their wedding night. She was in the very bed that she lay in now, with her coverlet pulled tight to her neck. Ready to get the whole business over when he rushed to her side, he pulled the coverlet back with force. Looking back now it was perhaps the wrong tactic to take. The intention was to make it quick and meaningless, just as he expected the rest of their marriage to be. He did not hesitate to take her maidenhead nor pause when she cried out in pain. There was no denying that he had been a bastard to her that night. But then something changed and she came alive in his arms. Moving together their bodies spoke to each other and something changed between them that he had not expected. Their climax was in harmony and he was suddenly taken away to their many years together, of children and happiness. That was the moment he had made his decision, if he was going to make his escape and find his fortune he had to do it soon before he fell in love with her.

He had been a coward.

A knock at the door awoke Robert from his dream. He answered the door with admittance before hearing who it may be. Turning to the sound of a guttural sound, he saw Allen peering around the door. He had a sheepish cock to his brow and waited for Robert’s reply, which was quickly answered with a nod.

Stepping in, he closed the door behind him.

“Allen, I am sorry about what we have found here. I never expected—”

Extending a hand before him, Allen silenced his friend.

“Please, do not trouble yourself. I know how hard you have worked and I have been there when you sent out the bank drafts home and I do not need to look hard to see what you had described to me so often. It is obvious some wrong has fallen on your family.” He stepped closer, but seemed to keep a distance. “With the knowledge of your son and the condition of your marriage I think that your family and your estate need you.”

There was no avoiding the divide that was coming between them from honor and obligation. They had both been at fault for trying to escape the lives and birthrights they had both been born into, and Allen knew as well as Robert that it was time to put their adventures aside to take their obligations with both hands. It was time for them to grown up, and in doing so they had to put their friendship aside in exchange for the family and people who had been waiting all these years for them to return to England.

“I know.” His head fell forward. Robert was weakened by his failure. “The first thing I need to do is find what became of the fortune I have sent over the years and what became of my steward. I have yet to see him since I have returned and I am beginning to fear that I was the fool in all of this.”

Crossing to the window with determined steps, Allen released a deep breath.

“I fear I may add to your pains. I will not be here when you awake.” It pained him to tell Robert. They had been friends for nearly eight years and lovers for almost six.

“I don’t understand? Is there something—” Risking a step, he was stopped by the look on Allen’s face.

Looking over his shoulder, his brow was creased in pain. “Your wife needs you and you need to know your son. That box you stowed in your saddle bag may be a few years late, but it holds ever intention you had in taking your rightful place.” Nodding his head to stop Roberts’s argument. “You have a family here that needs you and I am a barrier for you.” Taking hold of Roberts’s shoulders, he smiled warmly. “This is not goodbye for us…we shall meet again.” He pulled him into his arms, their mouths molded together, but Robert could not find the peace in Allen's touch that he was used to. “I could never stay away from you for good.” Tilting his head with a correction. “With the approval of your wife, that is.”

A warm embrace was all that passed between them before Allen closed the door behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Robert cleared his mind and retrieved two objects from his saddlebag. Setting one aside, he place the other in the right pocket of his dressing gown and made his way through the connecting door. Whether his wife was awaiting him happily on the other side or held a piece of ceramic at the ready for his head he would have to face it eventually. Why not now?

Firelight glowed from the sitting room, leaving only shadows and golden highlights to guide his way. After all these years he could still remember his mother’s former room. Her motherly love was always the healing pill that he needed and her arms were always his safety.

“Ouch! Damn it!” He had forgotten that reading table next to the wardrobe. “Ouch!” And the wardrobe had been moved.

Staying close to the wall, he felt his way around the room, keeping his focus on the glittering bed. Despite the noise and his pains, she had not stirred. Her soft brown hair was fanned out and held a dazzling copper glow from the distant firelight. The old red dress that she had worn at dinner was discarded and she was now dressed in a night-rail ill-fitting to her frame with a collar that fell so low her breast nearly fell free. She was no longer built like the young woman he had married, her body showed the desirable maturity that came with age and motherhood, but she dressed in rags that could barely contain her body.

Her lashes fluttered above her cheeks and her lips were chapped with worry. Teeth marks imprinted under her bottom lip left a pain in his gut. She should not be burdened with such sickening torment. Far from the gentle sleeper he had remembered all these years he could not hide from the knowledge that it had been his absence that led to his wife’s worries.

Robert had expected that reality could never hold up to the memories he had of her, but something seemed far out of the ordinary in this. Rolling her head side to side, Fiona’s hair fell over her face, but unveiled the ill-fitting night-rail. The worn lace collar with a plunging neck fell far below what was customary, letting her breast pool out down to her nipples. Rubbing the once fine fabric between his fingers, he recognized the delicate pattern of lace trim. Mended over the years, he could still make out the extravagant initials gently weaved in the delicate thread, but last he had ever seen it was the night of his mother’s funeral when his mother’s trunks had been locked and taken away to the attic.

What game was this?

Confusion and pain did not stall the boiling anger in him. She had been his betrothed for one week and his wife for only one night and now all these years later she was the mother of his son and chose to defile his mother’s night-rail in his mother’s former room.

“Bloody hell,” he said under his breath. The realization of her circumstances while he had been away tore away at him, but his desire for her this night left him completely unbalanced.

Rounding the outer curve of her breast, he held her in his firm grip. No longer the virgin youth, she was round and full. When they had wed she had been a beautiful girl who awakened lust in him he had never known, but now she was a full grown woman that bewitched his body. He was hard and in need and despite his touch she still slept. Closing his eyes, he bathed his senses in her. His tongue reached out for her hardened nipple. Goose flesh rose up over her exposed flesh and her breath stuttered…but she did not wake. His mouth watered for more. Taking her in his mouth, he suckled her breast, rediscovering the pleasure of her body. Grazing her flesh with his teeth, he could feel her breath quicken and was silenced with his powerful kiss. She was aroused in her sleep.

Pushing the coverlet aside, he freed her body of the restraints and made no delay in dragging the hem of her night-rail up to her waist, revealing her wet and inviting mound. It took him only a moment to fumble with his own restraints to release his erection and slide into her welcoming yet slumbering body. She was his bride of eight years and he would take her without hesitation.

“No…no…please…” She struggled against his entrance. “Not again, please. No more.” Her words were a stab to his heart. “No!” she screamed and beat at him with her fists. All her years at working in the mill had strengthened her fight. Pushing her down one last time, he pulled himself free of her and staggered back to the adjoining door, hearing the whimpering cry of his wife’s plea. “Please.”

Dawn came slowly over the hillside, leaving the withered estate shrouded by its demons and the small gated graveyard left in silence nearly forgotten. Generations or wickedness and torment never seemed to be laid to rest, but still hovered over the abandoned headstones of lords and ladies passed. Carlton had always been a farming land with simple needs and unlike other nobles here Robert’s family was laid to rest under the stars rather than locked away in some gothic crypt.

The iron gate stood open in its rusted state. Ivy had grown over the gate and fence, swallowing it whole. So much time had passed since he last looked upon his roots and so much had happened since the latest tenant was buried; it was for that reunion he had come.

Robert could see the pair of headstones in the little garden separating them from the others. Memories came in a haunting flash of him as a boy standing over his mother’s open grave. He stood by and watched as her narrow casket was being lowered into the ground and his father walking away, leaving a six-year-old Robert to be comforted by only a much younger Stephens.

The grass was overgrown now and the trimmings around the markers were no longer maintained. In fact, if a stranger were to stumble into this graveyard he would not see it for what it was.

Robert could not take a step over the threshold for this place was the beginning of his descent…and would one day be his end.

The kitchen was alive with laughter when Robert came in from the morning cold. Ruth and Sprout were sitting around the table, enjoying their morning bowl of cream and oats. The scene was all too familiar for Robert.

Sprout was a ray of sunshine with bright eyes. He had put aside Robert’s dress cast-offs and was clothed again in oversized britches and shirt, no doubt something that Ruth had found from his boyhood things. Standing beside his chair, the boy bid his father good morning and invited him to join them. Hiding his chuckle from the boy’s formal invite, the Lord thanked his son and took a seat beside him.

“Ruth tells me you used to join her in here as well?” The boy began. His eyes sparkled with curiosity, eager to learn about his wayward father.

“Yes. Back then my father forbade me to eat this far back in the manor, but I managed to escape during the morning to have my breakfast here with Ruth, Stephens, and Sarah.” He watched the boy, studying his eyes, mouth, and brow, everything that gave him a flash to his boyhood portrait that hung in the gallery upstairs. “My father was a traditional kind of man.”

The boy looked down into his steaming bowl. “I don’t remember much of him, it has been a couple of years since he passed and I was very little then, but I remember that he never left his rooms. I always hated my daily visits to his room. He smelled bad and cried a lot.” Looking at Ruth’s stern face, the boy looked back at his father. “I feel bad now for thinking such things. Mother says life is too short not to spend time with the ones we love.”

His father cried? Never had Robert recalled his father showing so much emotion. Even when his mother lay dying his eyes never glistened. It had never occurred to Robert that this boy…his boy would have been there with his father in his place, but here his young son had been privileged to see a vulnerable side of his father that he had always been denied. If only his father had showed him a shred of that paternal love perhaps things would have been different? Perhaps he would not have sailed off not just in search of wealth, but independence from his father’s rule? Perhaps?

It wasn’t until he was aware of the sudden silence that had fallen over the room that Robert realized his son had asked a question.

“Pardon?” he asked, turning his focus back down to the young Viscount in training.

“I only wondered…would you be interested—”

“Young man, I am confident that your father has much more pressing issues to address than running off to London just to look at a building full of ‘nick knacks’.” Ruth jumped in, removing the boy’s empty dishes.

“But…” The boy pestered, his shoulder slumped, his lower lip beginning its telltale quiver.

She leaned in close to the boy, but her voice carried over the table. “Now, you know that with current expenses such extravagance is not possible and I would appreciate it if you would let this die out before your mother hears any of this. She is in no condition to face these things at present.”

“What building?” Robert inquired.

“It’s the Tower Sub-train…sub-rout…” Ruth waved her hand, dismissing the importance of remembering the proper name.

“Subway.” The young master corrected her with a huff. Turning to his father, his young face lit up like a torch, and Robert was intrigued by what could bring so much excitement to the boy. Sprout’s eyes sparkled just as his mother’s had the day he had first met her. Even now he could envision her in her pale blue day dress with yellow and lavender flowers. She was the very breath of spring, the first true vision of beauty he had ever beheld. It was her impending nuptials to his brother that had brought her to the estate that day, and for the first time since they had been in school clothes, Robert had envied his brother.

“The young master has not spoken of anything else since Stephens wrote some time ago and mentioned the excitement of the city and how the diversion would do…” Turning back to her chores, Ruth dismissed herself from the conversation. “But it is nothing and he needs to put it out of his mind and pay attention to more important things here at home.”

“Subway you say?” Robert leaned back and looked down at his boy with pride. “So you have an interest in trains?” For the first time since his arrival Robert felt the warm glow of a welcoming bond. After living for years on the railway, he had a small hope of building a relationship with the son he had never known.

The boy’s head shook so vigorously Robert feared it might shake off altogether. He reminded Robert so much of him and his brother at that age. His father had been absent during these years for him as well, only his father had escaped into his drink and mistress rather than chase his boyhood dreams. Robert was ashamed that this was his son’s first true conversation with his father, but now that he was home it wouldn’t be their last.

“Ruth, if you recall the Great Exhibition and how nothing you or my parents would say kept us from chasing after the excitement of London,” he warned her with pride.

“I do recall and the apoplexy that your mother and I suffered when we found that you two had decided to run off on your own.” The older woman hid the pain of his brother’s loss behind her eyes, but Robert didn’t miss it and was warmed that he was not the only living person to miss his other half. “There was no controlling you two and I can vouch that your son is just as much a handful.” Turning to young Sprout, Ruth’s eyes sparkled with a maternal love, but her mouth played a stern frown. “Perhaps a little adventure would be good for the lad. Lord knows the poor young thing has had to put up with a lot of…” Coughing back her words, Ruth excused herself with tasks she had left undone and departed the kitchen without another word said.

All of the hidden and half-truths were beginning to wear on Robert’s nerves. Feeling like a ten-year-old boy dismissed for his lack of age, he saw that the apple did not fall far from the tree as both were left to sit in silence when only a moment ago they had shared their first spark of a connection and hope for a future as father and son. Looking down at his son’s disappointed face, Robert felt the need to buy whatever it was the boy wanted and treat him to whatever he desired.

Suddenly he had a need to be the boy’s father.