Lord Deverill's Heir by Catherine Coulter (best books to read all time .TXT) 📗

than the old abbey ruins—for no one could hear her or see her, and the stable hands could be milking cows below, chattering away, but she wouldn’t hear them. Yes, as a child she would climb up the narrow crawlway whenever she wanted to be by herself. I shall never forget that day—she could not have been more than ten years old—when one of the boards gave way and she fell some twenty feet to the ground, breaking her leg and cracking two ribs. She was very lucky, for a broken limb can result even in the best of circumstances in a horrible limp.”

“Is that when you fell in love with Paul Branyon? When he managed to keep her leg straight and strong?”

“No, actually, I fell in love with him when I was in labor with Arabella.

It was a very long labor, but Paul never left me. I do not believe I would have survived it if not for him. He convinced me to fight, you see.

He has done so much for us over the years.”

“Yes,” the earl said. He set down his empty coffee cup and sat close to Arabella again. “I believe he is at this minute trying to save the comte.

No, he isn’t a comte, he isn’t an anything, but a damnable bastard—”

“What is this, Justin? What do you mean that Gervaise isn’t the Comte de Trécassis?”

He cursed under his breath. He was so tired he was no longer in control of his brains. He had simply forgotten that there were still several facts not known yet to everyone. It was difficult to keep them all straight. Well, now it was too late.

“Justin.”

He gave it up. “Very well. When Arabella was trapped in the old abbey ruins, she found a very old letter in the skeleton’s pocket. His name was Charles. He was Gervaise’s father. Magdalaine was his mother and this man’s lover.”

She stared at him stunned for some moments before she realized what it meant. “Oh, no,” Lady Ann said. “Oh, no. Elsbeth must never know, Justin, never.”

“No, she won’t. Indeed I hadn’t intended to tell you. Arabella only told me because she was afraid she would die and she knew she could trust me.

I suppose it really doesn’t matter. Tell Paul, if you wish. I don’t know what she did with the letter she found. There is one other thing. That man Charles and Magdalaine both died. Arabella didn’t tell me sooner because of her loyalty to her father. If Gervaise hadn’t shot her, I wonder if she would have ever said anything, even to me. She believes him a murderer, Ann, and bonds of loyalty are strong.” Lady Ann was pacing back and forth, pausing every step or so to look over at her daughter, still deeply asleep, held there by a large dose of laudanum.

“Do you know anything about this, Ann?”

“No. But if the earl believed himself to be betrayed, he wouldn’t hesitate to act. Murder? No, that wouldn’t be past him. I think now that it wouldn’t be past me either. I think, though, that with another man, he would be more likely to fight a duel. He had complete confidence in himself. Utter complete confidence. What man could ever compete with him in the field of honor? Hopefully Arabella will be able to tell us more when she awakens.”

If she awakens. In that moment, he couldn’t bear it. He had to feel something of her that held her vibrancy, the echo of her spirit.

“I must go, Ann, for just a few minutes.” He left her staring after him.

The barnyard was bustling with early-morning activity as the Earl of Strafford, dressed only in breeches and open, rumpled white linen shirt, made his way with single purpose to the barn. Stable hands were busily forking clumps of fresh hay into the wide wooden bins, while the farm hands led out the fat, sleek cattle to pasture. His presence in the doorway called an abrupt, uncomfortable halt to all talk. Even the head stable lad, Corey, said not a word.

He did not even notice that he was being eyed with nervous skepticism. He slipped inside the barn and saw immediately the small spindly ladder just to the left of the door. He set his foot upon the first rung. He wasn’t even aware that the ladder creaked beneath his weight. He climbed swiftly to the top, and stepped carefully onto the narrow ledge that wound around to the far corner of the loft. He came presently to a tiny closed-off area, almost a small room, that looked out over the rolling hills behind the north pasture. It was a private place, a place for thinking private thoughts, a place for dreaming. Arabella came here when she wanted to be alone. He breathed in deeply. Yes, he could feel her here, but it was only the shadow of her, none of her intensity, none of what made her unique. This was where she had been when he’d believed she had betrayed him with Gervaise. He hated the ironies of Fate at that moment. If only he had never seen her, if only . . .

He stood silently for a moment longer. He could faintly hear the sounds of the cows and the racket of the stable hands.

Slowly he made his way back down the ladder and out of the barn. He looked bleakly at the giant gnarled oak tree where he had stood so long ago, witness to what he had been certain was Arabella’s betrayal. He felt again his anger, his bitterness, and the overwhelming emptiness. He saw Arabella on their wedding night, her face alight with anticipation until she had recognized his rage, until he had forced her, humiliated her.

He turned slowly and walked back to Evesham Abbey. He heard conversation from the Velvet Room and paused a moment. There were Lord Graybourn and Elsbeth. He was sitting next to her on the settee, holding her hand. He was speaking quietly