Summer's Distant Heart (Seasons Book 3) Read online

  Lia’s aunt sat in the over-stuffed chair next to her and placed her hand on Lia’s knee.

  “What is it, Aunt?”

  “I’ve had news.” She held up a letter written on crisp parchment edged in funereal black. “News that could threaten the child.”

  Lia’s heart pounded harder in her breast and her breathing quickened. “Is it about the babe’s father?”

  Her aunt nodded. “As we feared, he has died.”

  Lia tried to take in what her Aunt had just said but her mind refused to absorb what that might mean. “Lord Evan Atherton is dead? How do you know?”

  “My sister has sent me several papers with the accounts of his death from a fever.”

  “When did he die?”

  “According to the articles, he passed away more than two months ago.

  Lia rose from the rocker and placed Georgie in his cradle. He stirred, but didn’t wake. Lia returned to her chair and reached for her aunt’s hands. “What are we going to do? Do you think his grandfather will come looking for him?”

  “Wouldn’t you if you knew you had a grandchild you’d never seen?”

  “Oh, Aunt Mildred. He mustn’t find the babe. You know that was the only promise Janice asked of us—to keep the babe hidden from the Marquess of Trentridge. She was sure he would do the babe harm if he knew of the child’s existence.”

  “I know,” her aunt said worrying her bottom lip.

  “Perhaps no one will ever know about George. We can only hope Janice hid her tracks well enough that nothing leads to your door.”

  “It was very clever of her to reach me by such a circuitous route, though I think it weakened her in the last days of her pregnancy. Still, anyone trying to find her is probably wandering around Scotland at this very moment. If they even know about the babe, that is. We can only hope. But we mustn’t let our guard down. It all depends on what Lord Atherton told his father before he died. Perhaps he told him nothing. Then, no one will know.”

  “But we must have a plan in case the marquess does know,” Lia said. “We have to be prepared in case we are discovered.”

  “Do you have an idea?”

  “Yes, although I’m not sure how adequate it is,” Lia said, praying that her plan would work. If it didn’t, she could lose the babe, and that was something she refused to consider. She’d sworn she would raise the babe as her own. She’d promised her sister on her deathbed that no one would take the babe away from her. Especially someone from the Marquess of Trentridge’s family.

  And she vowed she would keep her promise.

  . . . .

  Scarcely a week later, Lia sat in the library with a book in her hands. There was nothing she enjoyed more than a good novel—especially one of the romance novels that were becoming so popular. She was ever so fortunate that there was a book store in the village not far from Collinson Manor. Mr. Hodges, the store owner, had a surprising cache of the latest gothic novels.

  “Have you begun reading again, Lia?” her aunt asked as she entered the library.

  A maid followed with a tea tray and set it down near Lia, who set aside her pen and poured each of them a cup of tea. “Just writing a note of thanks, Auntie Mildred. Hodges’ Book Shoppe has sent me an absolutely tantalizing note to inform me they’ve received a new selection and I have pleaded with them to send the lot to me forthwith!”

  Her aunt smiled. “I have no doubt that you are his best customer.”

  “Do you think I’m spending too much of your money on books, Aunt?”

  “No, no, my dear. That is what I asked you to do. My library is in need of refreshing, and you’re the perfect person to satisfy that need. I have no idea what books to choose.”

  Her aunt took a sip of her tea. “Now, if I were in need of new horse flesh to fill my stables, I would have no problem filling that order. I’m quite knowledgeable in equestrian affairs. My late husband had a keen eye for horses and he taught me what to look. But I daresay, books are beyond my understanding.”

  “Then I will continue to visit Hodges’ and add to your woefully lacking selection of literary fiction.”

  Her Aunt Mildred smiled. “You do that, my love.” The Viscountess took another sip of tea, then set down her cup and saucer. “Is the babe asleep?”

  “Yes. Mrs. Rodgers fed little George, then put him down for a nap. I daresay he’ll sleep for an hour or more.”

  Aunt Mildred began to reply but stopped when her ancient butler rapped at the open door.

  “Yes, Hobson. What is it?”

  “You have a guest, my lady.”

  “Who is it, Hobson?”

  “The Earl of Atherton, my lady. I told him you were not receiving, but he insisted he needed to see you.”

  Lia’s heart lodged in her throat and she looked at her aunt, whose expression was filled with the same alarm Lia felt.

  “Give us a moment, then show his lordship in, Hobson.”

  “Very well, my lady.”

  “Let me do the talking, Lia.”

  Lia nodded, then sat rigidly in her chair. She rehearsed the plan she and her aunt had formed weeks earlier.

  “The Earl of Atherton, my lady,” Hobson announced, then stepped aside to admit the man who, in their minds, posed a most dangerous threat.

  “Bring in a fresh tea tray, Hobson.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Lia wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Perhaps a man who resembled the babe. Someone blond with blue eyes and a ready smile on his face. The man who stood before her, however, was the opposite of anything she’d conjured in her mind.

  “Lord Atherton,” Aunt Mildred greeted.

  Lia stared at the dark, imposing figure as he lowered to a respectful bow.

  Lia took in his height and the breadth of his shoulders that nearly filled the doorway. Much taller and he would have had to lower his head to enter the room. He wore a formidable frown that made him appear angry and…dangerous.

  His hair was as dark as little George’s was light and his eyes were equally dark and lacking any softness. He stood as an unreadable sphinx, hardened with lethal calmness.

  His shirt and cravat were a pristine white and his jacket, trousers, and waistcoat were funereal black. But his perfectly tailored attire wasn’t what drew her eye and refused to allow her to look away from him. The deep bronze of his rugged features is what caused her to keep her gaze focused on his face. His profile was sharp and confident. His high cheekbones were strong and rigid. His jaw was sculptured in captivating lines that evidenced a formidable strength.

  He seemed all ruthlessness, danger, and unapproachability.

  Lia shivered.

  There was nothing soft or yielding in the man who stood before them. In his black gloves and his coat with its black armband he should have presented the sympathetic picture of a gentleman in deep mourning. But to Lia it made him simply intimidating. Lia knew it would take all her courage to stand up to him. All her fortitude and determination to protect herself and the babe if she intended to succeed in keeping Janice’s babe safe.

  “Lady Collinson,” the man greeted with a sharp bow.

  “Lord Atherton. Allow me to present my niece, Miss Halloway.”

  “Miss Halloway?” he questioned. “Don’t you mean Lady Atherton?”

  A terrifying silence stretched throughout the room. He knew. He knew Janice and his brother had married.

  Hobson and a maid arrived with the tea tray and placed it before her aunt. Thankfully, the interruption gave Lia a moment to gather her courage.

  Her auntie had not corrected his assumption that he was meeting his late brother’s wife. Lia swallowed hard. Could they? Did they dare? Was it possible they might deceive the man into thinking she was Janice? In truth, it could turn the table in her behalf. It was one thing to try and take a child from his aunt. But his mother? Surely they would be much less willing to take such a drastic measure. Lia’s mind raced forward, seeking to identify every aspect of their secret if she was to carry
it off.

  Aunt Mildred poured tea and handed Lord Atherton a cup. Then she handed Lia a cup before pouring one for herself. The china teacup that had always felt substantial in Lia’s hand looked miniature in the large, steady hand of Lord Atherton.

  Lia placed her cup on the table in front of her without taking even one swallow. She knew if she tried to take a sip her hands would shake so badly Lord Atherton would know how severely his presence affected her.

  Their guest finished his tea and placed his cup and saucer on a side table, then let his gaze focus on Lia’s attire. She wore black today as was only appropriate in mourning Janice’s death. But he wouldn’t know of that. He would think that somehow she had heard of her estranged husband’s death.

  Fortunately she had dissuaded her aunt from decking the house in high mourning for Janice. That would have been quite a bit more difficult to explain, in light of the deception they were prepared to carry out.

  “May I presume you know of your husband’s death, Lady Atherton?”

  Lia lowered her gaze to her lap. He’d merely stated a cold, hard fact. No commiseration. No effort to express sympathy. “Yes, my lord. I have been so informed.”

  She was so very grateful that she didn’t have to try to look the part of the grieving widow. She was terrified enough to play the role without any effort.

  “May I ask you a question,” she said, lifting her watery gaze.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  My lady. It would have been Janice’s place to be spoken to in such elegant terms. The very idea brought her loss very close to the surface and sent a tear to trickle down her cheek.

  “Did he…did Evan suffer at the end?”

  “No, my lady. He did not.”

  “I’m glad,” she answered, even though she believed he was lying to her. Perhaps there was a softness in him somewhere, although from every indication if there was, it was hidden perilously deep.

  “Did he die alone?”

  He drew a deep breath. “No, my lady. I was with him when he died.”

  “Thank you,” she answered. “I would hate to think that he died alone.”

  Lia couldn’t stand his evaluative stare and rose to her feet. She walked to the window and stared out into the garden. Summer was in its full glory. Color filled the garden and climbed the stone walls that enclosed it.

  Janice had loved the out-of-doors. She’d spent hours in the garden while waiting for her child to be born. She’d been so excited not only for the babe’s arrival, but for the man she loved to come for her at Christmas. She never doubted that he would. She never lost faith in the love they shared for each other. Even at the end, when she struggled to give birth to their son.

  How Amelia missed her sister. How she wished she could have her back. How she wished Jannie were still here to watch her child grow. But that was no longer possible. Both Janice and the man she loved had left their babe in her care.

  Lia wiped her eyes before she turned to face the dangerous man who dominated their library. “I take it your brother told you about us. What did he say?”

  “He said that he loved you with all his heart. He told me that you and he had married and that you were carrying his child. Is his child alive?”

  She was going to lie. She intended to tell him the babe was dead. It’s what they had planned, to tell the Earl of Atherton’s family that the child had not survived a difficult birth. That would solve all their problems. If he thought the babe was dead, he would leave and she would never see him again.

  But at that exact moment, George cried out loudly in one of his most demanding bellows.

  Lia stared at Lord Atherton but he was not watching her. His eyes were looking toward the closed door, in the direction of the upper floor where the babe had been sleeping, but was no longer.

  Lord Atherton rose and took his first step to leave the room.

  “No, my lord!” Lia said more forcefully than she’d intended.

  The earl spun around and glared at her. “Is that my brother’s child?”

  “No. It is mine!”

  “And my brother’s,” he said. “The child is—”

  “He is nothing to you but a relative. He is my son!” she repeated. “My son.”

  The Earl of Atherton took but a few long strides to reach the door, then he was out of the room.

  Lia followed him almost at a run but she could not catch him. He took the stairs two at a time and was at the top before she reached the landing that marked half way.

  “No!” she cried. “Leave him be. Don’t touch him. He’s not yours!”

  Lia’s advantage was that Atherton did not know which room the babe was in. She took the opportunity to race ahead of him to the nursery when he paused at the top of the stairs. When she reached the babe, she gathered George in her arms as Atherton entered the nursery. She cradled the babe closely, determined to protect him with her last breath, if need be.

  “He is not yours!” she insisted, turning her back to him so he couldn’t reach the babe,

  Atherton was silent. He didn’t speak, nor did he move. When enough time had passed that Lia no longer felt threatened, she slowly turned.

  Their gazes caught and held. The inky blackness of his eyes bore into hers. Anger showed clearly in his eyes, in his expression. Her heart hammered in her breast and it was all she could do to take in a breath and release it.

  Lia looked around the room and saw Aunt Mildred standing close by. Her presence caused Lia to feel a small bit of relief.

  “May I see him?” Lord Atherton asked softly, almost in a whisper. And yet, his voice held a threat. There was a demand in his tone.

  Lia turned with the babe in her arms. She made sure to stay far enough away so Lord Atherton could not snatch the babe. She slowly lowered the blanket from around the babe’s face and turned him so Lord Atherton could get a good look at his brother’s child.

  “It’s not possible,” his lordship whispered in a muted hiss.

  Lia snuggled the babe against her breast and turned as if to protect him. “What is?” she asked.

  The Earl of Atherton slumped against the wall, then swiped his hand over his face.

  “It’s like looking at a portrait. The child is a replica of my brother.”

  Lia turned back toward him, offering the man a second look at his nephew.

  “What did you name him?” he asked in a weak voice.

  “He is named after my father, George, and yourself. George Hunter Montclaire.” Lia lifted her gaze. “It’s what Evan would have wanted.”

  Atherton reached out and touched the babe as if he were made of glass. As if he would break. He touched little George’s cheek with the back of his finger, then Atherton held out that same finger for the babe to take. The child wrapped his tiny fist around his uncle’s sturdy finger and held on tightly.

  The expression on Atherton’s face filled with wonder. It was obvious he wasn’t accustomed to being in the presence of babies. Obvious he didn’t have the slightest idea how to act around a child this small.

  “May I hold him?”

  Lia turned her head and focused her gaze on her aunt. There was a frown on her aunt’s face as if she didn’t trust his lordship. Lia didn’t trust him either.

  “Sit in that rocking chair,” Lia said, pointing to the chair in the far corner of the room.

  Aunt Mildred walked to the door and called for the butler who appeared within moments.

  “Hobson, come in and guard the door.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Hobson closed the door and stood in front of it so the Earl of Atherton couldn’t escape if he tried to take George. Lia prayed the old fellow was stronger than he looked. Still, being seated in the rocking chair would slow Lord Atherton should he try anything.

  When the Earl of Atherton was seated, Lia held George out and placed him in the earl’s arms. He held the babe awkwardly, as if the child were a fragile piece of china.

  “He won’t break,” Lia said.
<
br />   “I’ve never held a babe before.”

  Atherton adjusted George and even became brave enough to reach for the babe’s hand and hold it.

  Lia watched as George stared at the stranger holding him and frowned. Then, the babe reached up and grabbed Lord Atherton’s cravat in his fist and graced him with a bright smile and a giggle.

  His lordship didn’t stop his nephew from pulling on the elegantly-tied fabric. He let him pull until the knot was undone. When the babe tired of undoing Atherton’s cravat, he cooed, then wiggled in boredom.

  Lord Atherton gave what nearly appeared to be a smile as he reached into his pocket. Lia gasped, unnerved over what he might withdraw. But before she could contemplate his intent, Lord Atherton drew a small object from his pocket and dangled it on a slim black ribbon above the baby’s face. It twisted and turned, catching the light and eliciting all sorts of delighted burbles from the baby.

  Lia stepped forward to see the object more clearly, and recognized it as a funeral brooch—a beautifully faceted piece of jewelry with a glass center that held a twist of blond braid.

  The late Lord Atherton’s hair.

  Georgie reached for it, intent upon capturing the gleaming object that held a lock of his father’s golden hair.

  The sweetness of the scene brought tears to Lia’s eyes, until the new Lord Atherton snatched it back up into his hand and thrust it toward Lia.

  “I trust you’ll keep this for him,” Atherton said in voice that seemed brusque with indifference.

  The abrupt disappearance of the shiny object and Atherton’s harsh voice set the baby fussing. Lia reached down and took George back. The earl willingly gave him up, then stood.

  Lia separated herself from him enough that she was out of the Earl of Atherton’s reach. She lifted her head and their gazes locked. His eyes held a dark, unreadable expression. There was nothing that hinted at softness or understanding, but only a burning lethal resolve that indicated there were many battles ahead of them.

  Battles he intended to win.

  Chapter 3

  Hunter left his brother’s wife with the babe and escorted the dowager Viscountess Collinson to the drawing room. But his mind lingered in the nursery. He could certainly see why his brother had loved the fetching woman. She was lovely in every way, even though she carried herself with what could only be described as strength of will.