Page 11 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

Holding his breath, Hugh crept forward, trying to divine whether or not his brother still breathed. As he neared the foot of the tall bed, a low, keening sound rose from somewhere to his left.

Hunched over in one of the Queen Anne chairs, Arabella sat with her head pressed to the burgundy spread that covered Kit. Her dark hair had blended into the coverlet in the uncertain light, so he’d not noticed her at first.

“Bella.”

With a gasp she darted up. “Kit?” She leaned over the prone figure, searching his face.

“No, Bella.” Hugh strode around the bed. “It’s me.”

She jerked her head around, her face lighting up as recognition dawned. “Hugh!” Launching herself into his arms, she burst into tears. “Hugh. Oh, Hugh, I am so very glad to see you.”

“Shhh. I came the very moment I received your letter.” He moved her away from him and fished his handkerchief out of his pocket. “Here. Dry your eyes.” Dread mounting, he turned his gaze toward the still figure that had not moved despite their sister’s outburst. “Is he gone, then?”

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Bella shook her head. “No. At least I don’t think so. Look.” She pointed to the covers over Kit’s chest, rising ever so slightly, like a bellows that worked badly. “But Mr. Preston said he cannot live much longer.” Her tears began again, flowing down her cheeks in shiny streams. “The wound is mortal.”

“Dear God.” Pulling his sister back to his chest, he wrapped his arms around her slim body, now shaking with grief. His own anguish burned like a roaring fire, sweeping through him until his chest tightened, ready to explode with unshed tears. The older brother he’d always adored lay dying and there was apparently nothing he could do to save him. He swallowed hard against the bile that crept up his throat, forcing it down, keeping the tears at bay. His sister needed him to be strong. He could not fail her in that. Clearing his throat, Hugh breathed deeply, steeling himself. “What happened?”

“Miss Westgate.” Bella’s sobs muffled her voice.

Hugh’s breath caught. Had a duel indeed been the cause of his brother’s demise? “What about Miss Westgate?”

Bella raised her head, mopping her streaming eyes with the already sodden handkerchief. “Yesterday morning, Kit rode over to visit the Westgates. He didn’t tell me what he was about, but he was all smiles at breakfast. Quite excited. But he was always that way when he visited Margaret.” She glanced at the still figure and sighed. “He absolutely adored her, you know? Whenever he came back from a visit he would talk about her for hours.”

Hugh nodded. His brother’s letters to him, infrequent though they were, had been filled with all kinds of little details about his visits to Miss Westgate.

“She must have known of his deep regard for her. I mean, she’s not a stupid person, from what I know of her.” Bella’s voice had grown cold, making Hugh glance sharply at her.

“What do you mean?”

Frowning, Bella shook him off and stared into his face, her blue eyes rimmed in red and snapping with anger. “She must have known he loved her, Hugh. Anyone could see it. Kit could never mask his feelings about anything.”

“Well, that is true enough.” Hugh had always teased his brother that he wore his heart upon his sleeve. “So what did he do?”

“He asked her to marry him, of course.”

An icy chill raced down Hugh’s spine. “And?”

“She refused him.” Anger twisted Bella’s beautiful face, giving her a grotesque look, like the mythical Gorgon Medusa. Indeed, had Miss Westgate been present she might very well have been turned to stone. “She thanked him and told him, of course, that she understood the honor he bestowed upon her, but that sadly she must decline his offer.” Bella’s frown deepened even more. “Wretched girl.”

“But surely Kit must know he should try again.” He glanced at the form on the bed. “I have been given to understand that a woman may refuse a proposal one day and accept one the next.”

“Not Miss Westgate.” Bella followed Hugh’s gaze to their brother. “When he arrived back home, there was a huge commotion at the front door. I was practicing at the pianoforte but the great noise drew me down the stairs. Kit was shouting, Hugh. Shouting at the servants.” She turned back to him, fixing her stare on his face. “Shouting at Littles to bring him a bottle of brandy.”

Her words staggered him. In his lifetime, Hugh had never heard Kit raise his voice to anyone. That he would do so to his servants, and especially to the butler who had been his staunchest advocate Kit’s whole life, was almost beyond belief. The fact that his brother had demanded spirits was also so much out of his normal character as to make Hugh believe Kit had lost his reason. “What happened then?”

“Littles went off to get the brandy and I was so amazed at the scene I’d just witnessed, I stumbled on the steps. He looked up at me and his eyes were so cold, Hugh.” Bella hugged herself and shivered. “Then he snapped at me. ‘What do you want?’ I scarcely knew what to think. It was like a stranger stood before me. I asked what had happened and he told me Miss Westgate had refused his proposal. She said she had come to an understanding with Mr. Fairchild, although only her family had known of it. And she was sorry if his hopes had been raised, but she had tried subtly to make him understand her circumstances.”

Hugh raised his gaze to his brother’s still form. Poor Kit. Such a betrayal from a woman he’d convinced himself he loved must have been devastating.

“When Littles brought the brandy, Kit locked himself in the library for hours, drinking, I’m sure.” Putting a hand over her eyes, Bella sobbed again. “I should have sent for you then, Hugh. You could have talked to him, one man to another. Made him see this was not the end of the world.”

“That is not your fault, my dear. He was so distraught I doubt there would have been anything I could do to persuade him. . . .” Hugh frowned, the horrific truth of the situation finally dawning on him. “Dear God. He shot himself, didn’t he?”

Nodding and crying, Bella covered her face with the handkerchief.

Dumbfounded, Hugh cringed at the very thought. How could his brother have done such a horrible thing? From childhood they had always gone to church. His brother must have known it was a mortal sin to take his own life. How could his despair have become so egregious? Hugh paced to the end of the bed and back, worries about Bella’s future suddenly taking precedence over his grief for his brother.

If Kit actually died of such a wound, it could have profoundly disastrous effects on their sister, and on Hugh himself as well. The former Lord Kersey had confided in Hugh, not long after he’d come to work for the gentleman, that a friend of his, Lord Ainsworth, had hanged himself after losing twenty thousand pounds gaming. Contrary to the usual leniency in such appalling deaths, instead of giving a verdict of lunacy or melancholia, the courts had ruled his demise a true suicide—felo-de-se—and the family had, by law, forfeited all their property to the Crown.