Cinders and Ashes (Cavendish Mysteries 2)

Despite being in the presence of a lady, he cursed fluidly. He couldn’t remember her having the dark smudges that now lay beneath her eyes, in a face that was paler than usual. Briefly, he wished he hadn’t woken her. She was exhausted and clearly needed to sleep, but the protective warrior within him refused to allow her to sleep on the floor a moment longer.

“You need to rest.”

She studied his dark scowl in concern. “I was,” Amelia chided softly, with no hint of censure in her voice. What had angered him so?

“I know, but you shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor.” Sebastian glared at her balefully, clearly disgruntled about something. He watched as she carefully straightened the covers around him, seeking to ensure his comfort once more. Frustrated, he captured her hands in his larger ones to hold them still, valiantly ignoring the fission of awareness that hung in the air.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” Amelia hastened to reassure him, trying to loosen his hold.

“You could lie down beside me. I promise not to make any advances.” He watched disbelief enter her eyes as she stared at him cautiously. “I can understand why you don’t want to join me, but why didn’t you sleep in the chair?” He nodded towards the solid wooden frame beside the bed. All the while he was talking; his fingers took inventory of her cold, work-roughened hands.

“I was,” Amelia said, somewhat mesmerised by the concern on his face. Nobody had concerned themselves with her comfort for a long time. It was somewhat disconcerting to find herself the reason for his worry.

“When you were feverish I spent most of the night in the chair, but it is hard and uncomfortable when you sit in it for too long.” She watched as Sebastian looked towards the cold stone floor in front of the hearth. “At least on the floor I could stretch out, and it is closer to the fire.”

Sebastian thought about the tight ball she had curled into whilst asleep, and the cold fire, but decided to remain quiet. “You could stretch out here, Amelia. I know the bed isn’t all that wide, but I promise you, on my word of honour as a gentleman, that I pose no risk to you. You are perfectly safe with me.” He was quite proud of her for holding firm against him, even if it did irk him slightly. He sensed she was still indecisive, and wondered how much he should push her. “Besides, you know about my ribs. If I do anything you find offensive in any way, you could always poke me there!” His tone was rueful as he watched the small smile curve her lips.

Amelia wasn’t convinced and, without answering him, reluctantly eased her hand from the comforting warmth of his. Pulling the only chair she owned around until she was facing him, she sat down. So many questions rose in her mind that she wasn’t sure where to begin. Now his fever had eased, she needed to find out as much as she could. There were decisions she needed to make, and couldn’t make them until she had all of the facts.

“Do you have your memory back yet?” Her tone was almost conversational, as she asked probably the most important question.

“I think so,” Sebastian replied with a frown, staring at his toes beneath the sheets.

“Tell me your full name, Sebastian.” She emphasized

the ‘full’, making it clear she wanted his title, as well as his surname.

“Sebastian Andrew Cavendish. Lord Torrington, Earl of Westhaven.” He watched as Amelia studied her hands, her face carefully blank. His gut instinct warned him she had just taken a huge mental step backwards. Did she know of him?

“How did you get here?” Her voice was neutral. Carefully she tried to hide the disappointment that was so strong it brought tears to her eyes.

He was indeed one of the Ton, and that made him as far out of her reach as humanly possible. Although she had surmised by the cut and quality of his clothing that he was, it was still hugely disappointing to hear it from his lips.

He most probably had a wife tucked away somewhere, Amelia thought morosely. Handsome and titled men like Sebastian tended to have an equally gorgeous wife. The thought made her ache for something she couldn’t define.

“I jumped from a moving carriage,” he stated with brutal honesty.

“Jumped?” Her voice was incredulous and her round eyes met his.

“Yes, jumped.” His blue eyes hardened when the stark memories of that fateful night returned. He watched a myriad of emotions flicker across her alabaster face. Her next question came as no surprise to him.

“Why?” She was indeed Ton. Intrigued, and none the wiser to his thoughts, she leant forwards in her chair intently.

He certainly didn’t look like a suicidal man, Amelia thought. Even if she did know what one looked like, she was certain it wouldn’t be anyone looking as roguishly handsome and relaxed as Sebastian did at that moment.

“I had to jump.” Sebastian studied her stunned features for any signs of disgust or horror, but could see nothing but blatant curiosity and surprise. “I had to jump before I was pushed.”

“Pushed? By whom?” The questions burst out before Amelia could stop them. Her curiosity was piqued. She wondered who would be out of their minds enough to want someone like Sebastian dead.

Sebastian mentally made a note of her eloquence. “I don’t know for certain. Someone who employed a man to do the job for him.” A vivid picture of Rat’s gaunt and snarling face rose in his mind. “I have a feeling that whoever he is, he has wealth and status. He must have enough wealth to buy someone to do his dirty jobs for him, and enough status that he doesn’t want to directly be involved in my murder and besmirch his good name,” Sebastian replied, almost to himself.

He hated to involve her in his troubles, but given everything she had sacrificed to look after him, felt he owed her total honesty.

“There is only one person I have recently come into contact with who is vile enough to stoop to attempted murder to get what he wants.” He paused to consider his next words carefully. “Harrington Wilton, Lord Ballantyne. He is a dissolute gamester who has a penchant for obtaining things. Anything. Especially things he cannot have. He owns the estate that is near to my late uncle’s. He had been trying to get my uncle to sell it for several years. Lately, he had been pressuring my uncle, who had been in increasingly poor health, into signing the property over for half of its value.”

“Your late uncle?” Amelia wondered if Sebastian’s uncle’s demise was caused by Harrington Wilton.

“Yes, my uncle Benedict battled constantly with ill health in his later years. He was considerably weakened by a particularly bad bout of influenza that he didn’t seem to be able to recover from. Unfortunately, he died a few months ago.”