“My being here or not being here will not change your memories, Your Grace. The only one who can do that is you.”
Colin felt his anger stir again. “It matters not. I do not want the remembrance of what happened here. And you are only a reminder of that pain. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I believe I do.”
“Very well, then.” He turned away believing everything was settled. She would leave and perhaps he might be able to stand living on the estate for the next two months until the wedding was over.
But as he looked up at the ancient house, all the painful memories returned.
As Selina strode away from the irksome duke, she couldn’t help but glance back at him. She’d be damned if she let him chase her from her home. She had two women about ready to deliver, an elderly man who was losing his mind, and a woman sick with the wasting disease. Nothing and no one would keep her from doing her job.
Not even the Duke of Northrop.
Chapter 2
Colin walked through the house the next morning, frustrated by the condition of his ancestral home. Wallpaper was pulling away from the walls, the rugs were threadbare and covered in dust, and, based on the buckets on the third floor, he assumed there were leaks in the roof. He blew out a long breath. This was his fault. Guilt spread over him as he walked toward his study.
He had no one to blame but himself for the dreadful state of disrepair. His steward had informed him of the needed repairs but he’d ignored those letters. He’d wanted no reminders of this place. Being here now brought back all the horrific memories.
How could he have returned to this godforsaken place? Even now, he felt on edge. He’d spent most of yesterday out of the house, unable to face the memories that remained locked in these walls. It was as if it had only been a few days, not years since that March night.
Already, it felt as if the house was closing in on him. He could still hear her screams of agony, and her pleas with God to save their baby. He entered his study and his gaze focused on Mary’s portrait above the fireplace. She’d been stunningly beautiful with her auburn hair and blue eyes. The longer he stared at her picture, the more his guilt ate at him. He had to get out of here . . . out of this damned house.
He should have insisted the wedding take place in London.
“Roberts,” he shouted, “tell Mr. Sellers I want a horse saddled.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Roberts replied from the hall.
Colin paced his room. Dust and cobwebs covered every table and corner. Of course, if he had sent more notice of his impending arrival, the house would have been immaculate. Or at least as immaculate as his elderly staff could make the decrepit place. He needed to hire more staff as quickly as possible. And workers too. The house needn’t be perfect but at least respectable enough for the wedding.
It was only two months. Then everything would be fine and he could return to London. Then he would never come back to this godforsaken house again. He’d let it rot until the next duke took over. His brother, Thomas, or Thomas’s son, Richard, could handle the renovations it would need then.
He strode from the room and the house to escape the memories that plagued him. A ride would ease his mind. Once he reached the stables, a fine mare was waiting for him. At least his stables had been maintained.
“Thank you, Mr. Sellers.” He mounted and took the reins from the groomsman.
“Thank you, Your Grace. Aphrodite needed some exercise today.”
“Then I’ll make certain she gets it.” He flicked the reins and headed out to the flat pasture. He’d forgotten how beautiful the Midlands were at this time of year. The sheep grazed on green grasses near a meadow of heather. The tilled fields had wheat rising from the ground. He smiled slightly as he remembered racing across the fields as a child.
He breathed in deeply, allowing the thickly scented air into his lungs. Finally, he brought Aphrodite to a halt at the rise of a hill where his property intersected with the estates of the Earl of Harstfield and Viscount Middleton.
Colin closed his eyes for a moment only to picture the little witch who had angered him yesterday. With curling blond hair and green eyes, Miss White was not the girl he vaguely remembered meeting when she was only about ten. Now she was a beautiful woman who irritated the hell out of him. She had to be in her middle twenties now. It was highly improper for a woman of her years to walk about with her hair unbound. And why hadn’t she married? Surely, she didn’t mean to remain a spinster and live in that tiny cottage for the rest of her life.
He opened his eyes, annoyed with himself for even thinking about her. Her mother caused his pain. Her mother was the reason he was miserable here. Her mother killed his wife and heir.
The sound of a horse galloping turned his head toward the earl’s estate.
“So the rumors are true,” Hart said as he reined in his horse. He glanced to the east and then back at Colin with a frown. “You have returned. I guess the sun will now set in the east.”
“Good morning to you too,” Colin said stiffly.
“Excuse me, Your Grace,” the Earl of Harstfield said in a condescending tone.
“What do you want, Hart?”
Hart gave him an easy laugh. “Just making sure the rumor was true. After all, your exact words were the sun would set in the east before you ever set foot in Northrop Park again.”