The Nightingale Legacy (Legacy 2)

He thumbed through his grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s writings, but didn’t read them, just his father’s, and the good lord knew, it was enough.

He was appalled.

“My lord.”

“Yes, Tregeagle, what is it?”

“Er, my lord, did you read the tome we presented to you yesterday?”

North tossed down the quill and leaned back in his desk chair. He’d been writing an announcement to the Gazette and to the Times about his upcoming marriage to Miss Derwent-Jones. “Yes, I read part of it, the part my father wrote.”

“I see,” Tregeagle said, and waited hopefully, keeping quiet because he wasn’t stupid.

“It sounded just like my father—all ranting and shrieking at the dishonor of the female species, pitying himself in a bottle of brandy, all rage and bitterness. Nothing new. However, even that worsened under the influence of my grandfather. I remember both of them as relentlessly cruel, sadistic men who hated everyone, and obviously lost what few wits were left to them.”

“My lord, he was your father!”

“He was a filthy old bedlamite, Tregeagle! God, how I despised him. Now, that’s quite enough. There will be a Countess of Chilton living at Mount Hawke beginning in four days’ time. The first one in how long a time? You can’t even answer that, can you?

“I realize I didn’t live at Mount Hawke until I was five years old. My mother died and I was brought here. Why didn’t she live here during her marriage to my father? Ah, not a word. No matter. What would I expect from you, my father’s minion? Well, my wife won’t be kept hidden away in London like a damned mistress, or ensconced on one of my moldering estates. This will be her home just as it is mine. If you can’t accept that, Tregeagle, if any of you can’t accept that, why then, you will all leave.”

“My lord, we will remain to protect you, to see to your needs and your wishes.”

North sighed. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like th

at. However, I will hear no more about it. Go away, I must finish with this task.”

North watched his housekeeper slowly leave the small estate room. It was all nonsense, but the male minions believed every word, every assertion. It was amazing that they were so tied into the bitterness of the past.

Then he pictured Caroline’s shocked yet quite interested expression when he’d had her hold up her own skirts and petticoats on the beach and he was touching her. He smiled and noticed that his hand shook a bit. He would protect her. All would be well. He would be a husband, something that simply hadn’t occurred to him as being devoutly wished for, but he would have Caroline in his bed whenever he wanted her, and that was surely a fine thing. She was lovely, she seemed eager, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life. No more going without a woman or having to install a mistress or having an affair with a local lady, something he’d avoided like the plague in the past.

He realized then, at that moment, that part of his desire for solitude, an attitude so longstanding this was the first time he’d truly questioned it, came from the continuous bitterness and barely tamped-down rage spouted by his father, his distrust of people in general and women in particular. North had obviously taken the words to heart throughout his youth and simply turned himself away from the possibility of betrayal by believing he didn’t need people. Unlike Caroline, he hadn’t realized he was missing what life was all about. Unlike Caroline, he’d had to be pulled into joy and into the possibility of sadness and disappointment.

He would be Caroline’s husband.

He would laugh for the rest of his life.

19

CAROLINE CAME BOLT upright in her bed at the sound of a piercing scream. She threw back the covers, grabbed her dressing gown, and was into the corridor in the next moment.

There was another scream, only this one just a small cry, muffled, barely to be heard. Oh God, it was coming from Alice’s bedchamber. She ran down the hall, stopped to catch her breath, and flung open the door.

There was a single candle lit, standing atop the small table beside Alice’s bed. Alice wasn’t alone. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was Bennett and he was on top of her, shoving his belly against her, and Alice was struggling frantically.

Bennett drew back his hand and slapped her hard. “Shut up, you little slut, just shut up. If you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t have your belly filled with a brat. Shut up and give me what I want.”

“No,” Alice whimpered, and kept struggling.

“Bennett!”

He went utterly still. Slowly, he turned to face her. She was wearing a dressing gown, her hair was thick and wild around her face. He shook his head, not understanding. “Caroline? What are you doing here?”

“By God, you’re drunk, you filthy pig. Get off her.”

“Oh no, she’s here and she’s mine and you should have seen the looks she was giving me all day. She all but begged me to come to her tonight.”

Caroline wished she had a gun, but since she didn’t, she’d just have to make do.