AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Not at all,” he replied with a grim smile. “I only wish he’d broken his neck in the fall.”
“Ah, but we can’t have all our wishes, can we?”
“No, we can’t.” Alistair watched as Helen smiled and shook hands with Lady Vale. A lock of golden hair blew across her pink cheek. “In any case, I do owe you, Vale.”
“Think nothing of it.” The viscount scratched his chin. “Any chance Lister will come after them again?”
Alistair shook his head decisively. “I doubt it. He renounced them in the presence of the king—and his heir. If nothing else, it’s in Kimberly’s vested interest to keep his father from acknowledging his bastard children in any way. If the rumors are true, Abigail and Jamie aren’t Lister’s only children out of wedlock. I’m afraid Kimberly will have quite a chore on his hands, making sure his father doesn’t give away the unentailed parts of his inheritance to various bastard half siblings.”
“Indeed.” The viscount grunted and rocked back on his heels. “By the way, I heard that Hasselthorpe was at the luncheon. I don’t suppose you got a chance to speak to him?”
Alistair nodded, his gaze on the carriage. “I saw him and briefly spoke to him.”
“And?”
He hesitated only a fraction of a second. As Hasselthorpe had pointed out, St. Aubyn had been Vale’s greatest friend. And besides, the man was dead now. Let the dead take care of the dead.
Alistair turned to meet Vale’s eyes. “He knew nothing pertinent. I’m sorry.”
Vale grimaced. “It was always a long shot, anyway. Hasselthorpe wasn’t even there. I ’spect we’ll never know now.”
“No.” The ladies had parted, the children and Helen turning to the carriage. It was time to go.
“It’s just… ,” Vale said quietly.
Alistair looked at him, at his long lined face, his wide, mobile mouth, his extraordinary green-blue eyes. “What?”
Vale closed his eyes. “Sometimes I still dream of him, Reynaud. On that goddamned cross, his arms widespread, his clothes and flesh alight, black smoke rising in the air.” He opened his eyes, bleak now. “I wish I could’ve brought to justice the man who put him there.”
“I’m sorry,” Alistair said, because it was the only thing he could say.
A moment later, he shook hands with Vale, bowed to Lady Vale, and entered the waiting carriage. The children waved good-bye enthusiastically as the carriage rumbled down the street.
Helen watched them, smiling. She looked across the carriage to Alistair on the opposite seat, with the smile still on her face, and he felt it like a physical blow. She was so lovely, so loving. At some point it must occur to her that he was nothing but an ugly misanthrope with only an equally ugly castle to his name. He’d not even discussed with her whether or not she wished to accompany him back to Scotland. Perhaps once there she’d change her mind, see Castle Greaves for the provincial place it was, and leave him. He should discuss it with her, find out what her plans for her future were, but the truth was that he didn’t want to precipitate a heart-search on her part. If that made him a coward, so be it.
The children chattered for the next hour or so as they bumped and rolled out of London proper. Jamie did most of the talking, describing their kidnapping and the long carriage ride to London with the perfidious Wiggins. Alistair noted that the boy hardly mentioned his father at all, and when he did, it was always as “the duke.” The children didn’t seem to hold any filial regard for their father. Perhaps that was just as well.
Just outside of London, the carriage rambled into a small inn yard and halted.
Helen leaned forward to look outside the window. “Why are we stopping here?”
“A small bit of business,” Alistair replied evasively. “Wait here, please.”
He jumped from the carriage before she could bombard him with any more questions. The coachman was just descending his box. “A half hour you said, sir?”
Alistair nodded at the man. “That’s right.”
“Juss enough time for a pint, I reckon,” the man said, and went into the inn.
Alistair looked about the yard. It was a quiet little inn with no other carriages. Only a dogcart with a dozing mare stood on one side under the stable eaves. A gentleman came out of the inn. He put up a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun and then caught sight of the carriage and Alistair. He let his hand drop, then walked slowly toward Alistair. The gentleman wore a gray bobbed wig, and as he approached, Alistair saw that his eyes were a bright harebell blue.
The gentleman looked past him to the carriage. “Is she—?”
Alistair nodded. “I’ll be in the inn. I’ve told the coachman we’ll stop for a half hour. It’s up to you if you want to use all of that time.”
And without waiting to see what the man would do, Alistair strode to the inn.
“WHAT IS HE about?” Helen muttered under her breath as they waited in the carriage.
