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Authors: Alix Rickloff
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London.
“You look dour for a bride on the eve of her wedding.”
“I was thinking about how much I’ll miss you and Aunt Pheeney. It’s fine to say we’ll see each other often, but we all know it won’t be near as frequently as we’d wish. Gordon won’t want to leave London and his work, you hate to travel, and remember Aunt Pheeney’s last sea journey.”
Aunt Fitz puffed out her chest, a martyred look in her eyes. “As Gilbert said, ‘We are near to heaven by sea as by land,’” she quoted. “And we all know what happened to him.”
“Exactly. You’ll never get her back on a ship.”
Her aunt waved away her worries. “Once you’re married, you’ll be too busy to brood over us old ladies. And we’ll be fine. We have Lord Kilronan close by, should we need a man’s assistance. I hear his sister is home, though none have seen her. They say she’s ill.” Her gaze slid sideways as if she might catch Elisabeth out.
“I don’t know any more than you. I was told it was the measles, though I’m almost certain Sabrina and I had them the same summer.”
“They also say His Lordship is away from Belfoyle right now,” Aunt Fitz continued calmly. “The talk is that he might have heard from his brother after all this time.”
Elisabeth stiffened, feeling the heat creeping up her throat.
“It would be an amazing thing to have Brendan Douglas back home after we all thought him long dead.” She paused, clearly waiting for Elisabeth to comment.
Her cheeks burned. “It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled. “It was ages ago.” In a desperate bid to change the subject, she grabbed up her book. Almost tossing it in her aunt’s lap. “Have you read this one yet? Not nearly as thrilling as her last, but you might like it. That’s the last volume, but the first two are in my rooms. I’ll leave them for you.”
Aunt Fitz regarded the novel as one might observe an ugly baby. A passive smile as she quietly handed it back. “That’s fine, dear. I look forward to it.” And without missing a beat, “If Brendan Douglas actually returns to Belfoyle, it’s as well you’re leaving. It would be awkward, as the families have always been so close.”
She must be lobster red by now. “It’s not Aidan’s fault his brother is the worst sort of rogue. Besides, as Aunt Charity pointed out, it’s a good thing I didn’t marry him. Better to have been a jilted lover than an abandoned bride.”
“A shame Kilronan traveled all the way to Dublin”—Aunt Fitz regarded her steadily—“when Brendan was here the whole time.”
Elisabeth’s stomach lurched. Her aunt’s keen gaze seeming to pick the very thoughts from Elisabeth’s head. At times like these, she wondered how much
Other
blood Aunt Fitz truly carried. “How did you find out? He tried so hard—”
“So he did. But at breakfast the other day, I recognized his watch. And he called you Lissa. Small slip-ups, but revealing.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s left again.” Elisabeth added, “and good riddance.”
“Has he? Then I suppose my worry was for naught. You worshipped him so when you were younger. In your eyes, he could do no wrong. I thought perhaps his return might spur you to . . . well, it doesn’t matter now.”
“Aunt Fitz! Really! I hope my judgment has improved.”
“As do I, Elisabeth,” she answered evenly. “Did he say why he came to Dun Eyre?”
Elisabeth flashed back to that first interview when he’d goaded her mercilessly, the twinkle in his eye, the tease of his smile. “He claimed, like young Lochinvar, he was here to steal me away for himself.”
Her aunt’s brows lifted. “Yet, he’s gone and you remain.”
“Does that surprise you? Brendan Douglas wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him.”
Aunt Fitz closed her eyes, cheeks gaunt, fine lines marring her brow. Her hands hooked around the arms of the chair, her breathing slow and even. Elisabeth could almost believe she’d nodded off mid-conversation.
“You look dour for a bride on the eve of her wedding.”
“I was thinking about how much I’ll miss you and Aunt Pheeney. It’s fine to say we’ll see each other often, but we all know it won’t be near as frequently as we’d wish. Gordon won’t want to leave London and his work, you hate to travel, and remember Aunt Pheeney’s last sea journey.”
Aunt Fitz puffed out her chest, a martyred look in her eyes. “As Gilbert said, ‘We are near to heaven by sea as by land,’” she quoted. “And we all know what happened to him.”
“Exactly. You’ll never get her back on a ship.”
Her aunt waved away her worries. “Once you’re married, you’ll be too busy to brood over us old ladies. And we’ll be fine. We have Lord Kilronan close by, should we need a man’s assistance. I hear his sister is home, though none have seen her. They say she’s ill.” Her gaze slid sideways as if she might catch Elisabeth out.
“I don’t know any more than you. I was told it was the measles, though I’m almost certain Sabrina and I had them the same summer.”
“They also say His Lordship is away from Belfoyle right now,” Aunt Fitz continued calmly. “The talk is that he might have heard from his brother after all this time.”
Elisabeth stiffened, feeling the heat creeping up her throat.
“It would be an amazing thing to have Brendan Douglas back home after we all thought him long dead.” She paused, clearly waiting for Elisabeth to comment.
Her cheeks burned. “It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled. “It was ages ago.” In a desperate bid to change the subject, she grabbed up her book. Almost tossing it in her aunt’s lap. “Have you read this one yet? Not nearly as thrilling as her last, but you might like it. That’s the last volume, but the first two are in my rooms. I’ll leave them for you.”
Aunt Fitz regarded the novel as one might observe an ugly baby. A passive smile as she quietly handed it back. “That’s fine, dear. I look forward to it.” And without missing a beat, “If Brendan Douglas actually returns to Belfoyle, it’s as well you’re leaving. It would be awkward, as the families have always been so close.”
She must be lobster red by now. “It’s not Aidan’s fault his brother is the worst sort of rogue. Besides, as Aunt Charity pointed out, it’s a good thing I didn’t marry him. Better to have been a jilted lover than an abandoned bride.”
“A shame Kilronan traveled all the way to Dublin”—Aunt Fitz regarded her steadily—“when Brendan was here the whole time.”
Elisabeth’s stomach lurched. Her aunt’s keen gaze seeming to pick the very thoughts from Elisabeth’s head. At times like these, she wondered how much
Other
blood Aunt Fitz truly carried. “How did you find out? He tried so hard—”
“So he did. But at breakfast the other day, I recognized his watch. And he called you Lissa. Small slip-ups, but revealing.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s left again.” Elisabeth added, “and good riddance.”
“Has he? Then I suppose my worry was for naught. You worshipped him so when you were younger. In your eyes, he could do no wrong. I thought perhaps his return might spur you to . . . well, it doesn’t matter now.”
“Aunt Fitz! Really! I hope my judgment has improved.”
“As do I, Elisabeth,” she answered evenly. “Did he say why he came to Dun Eyre?”
Elisabeth flashed back to that first interview when he’d goaded her mercilessly, the twinkle in his eye, the tease of his smile. “He claimed, like young Lochinvar, he was here to steal me away for himself.”
Her aunt’s brows lifted. “Yet, he’s gone and you remain.”
“Does that surprise you? Brendan Douglas wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him.”
Aunt Fitz closed her eyes, cheeks gaunt, fine lines marring her brow. Her hands hooked around the arms of the chair, her breathing slow and even. Elisabeth could almost believe she’d nodded off mid-conversation.
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