Surrendering the Past Read online

  Surrendering the Past

  Pamela Lynne

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Surrendering the Past

  Copyright © 2017 by Pamela Lynne

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever.

  Cover art and layout by JD Smith Designs

  Editing by Jakki Leatherberry

  For Number Four. I cannot wait to meet you.

  Prologue

  The sun began to peek over the horizon, sending glimmering orange rays toward her as she made her way to the pond. The icy wind sent a chill through her, but she did not shiver. Her focus was too great to be distracted by the cold. Her destination had once been the site of her favorite memory, and it was where she would finally find her freedom.

  An old, proud oak stood tall at the pond’s edge, and she chose to rest there a moment, sitting and watching the sun continue its ascent. She smiled at its loveliness and then looked toward the water, closing her eyes as the memory of laughter washed over her. A lone tear threatened to escape her tightened lids, but she willed it to stay. She would not cry this day. Her tears were now all in the past.

  Reaching behind her, she unfastened her necklace and held its attached locket in her hand. She opened it slowly, reverently, and traced the images inside as if she were stroking their faces. Two faces so different, but she knew their hearts to be the same. She prayed they knew that as well.

  Still holding the locket in one hand, she steadily reached into the pocket of her spencer with the other. The small bottle she retrieved was made from a delicate blue glass meant to hold perfume or toilet water, now containing something far more precious. Without losing an ounce of her courage or determination, she placed the locket in her lap while she removed the stopper. Once again clutching the locket, she brought the bottle to her lips and drank. She closed the locket, kissed it, and held it to her chest.

  “My darling boys, forgive me.”

  Chapter 1

  The howl of the wind reached his ears just before the chill settled over him, taking his breath as he attempted to inhale. A curse sounded from his lips, but there was no one near to be offended by the utterance. London was bloody frozen, and only those with some important mission, or no sense at all, would be walking the streets dominated by the frigid, unyielding wind. Captain Richard Granville knew he belonged to the latter, though he told himself it was necessary to heed the summons that brought him out this night. His father rarely made demands of him, and Richard was even more rarely inclined to accept them, but two years had passed since he had seen any of his family, and Richard’s presence in London was overdue.

  There was something more that drew him to accept his father’s demand to attend this dinner, but he could not name what it was. Duty, he supposed, could be the reason, or even curiosity. Perhaps it was even the remnants of affection that remained for his elder brother, Wesley, the golden-haired heir who could do no wrong in their father’s eyes. That was about as likely as Richard feeling any duty to obey his father’s demands. The real reason he allowed himself out on a night like this was simple: it gave him the opportunity to get under his father’s skin, to show him he had survived without any acknowledgement or help from the great Earl of Litchfield.

  His last encounter with the earl had been on a day as cold as this one, though the violence of the wind did not compare to the shouts and threats Richard had leveled on his father. It had been the day of his mother’s funeral, and Richard wanted to inflict the same aching that he was feeling onto Litchfield, if the man could indeed feel anything at all. Richard watched him play the part of grieving husband until he could no longer tolerate the lie and determined that Litchfield would feel some kind of pain before the day was through. Unfortunately, Wesley intervened before he could land a blow, asking Richard to wait for him in his chambers until the guests had gone. Richard refused and chose instead to ride wildly out into the night, away from his childhood home and all the memories and hurt that bled from it. He left behind the reputation of a violent wildling—the ungrateful second son of a loving father. Richard cared nothing for the whispers of the ton or for their censure. He only wished the world knew the truth about his father. But wealth and lineage carried far more weight in society than did the truth, and the shadows of the past only haunted those who still valued grace and honor.

  He was anxious to get the night over with, but sustenance was required before once again entering his father’s kingdom, a grand townhouse in the center of Mayfair, filled with gilded displays, old money, and eager sycophants keen to be of service to the powerful earl. Though he would soon dine on the finest fare available in winter, Richard sought the comfort of a friendly face and a strong drink, so he ducked into a doorway just two houses down from his father. He did not bother knocking, taking the elderly butler unawares.

  “I beg your pardon, sir.” The old man’s indignant bellow washed over Richard as he removed his coat and gloves. “This is a private residence and not open to just anyone who wants to come in off the streets.”

  Richard smiled and removed his hat. “I am well aware of that, Alfred. But surely my cousin has room at his hearth for this particular urchin.”

  “Master Richard.” The outrage in the servant’s voice was immediately replaced with astonished affection upon recognition of his master’s relation. Taking his outerwear, Alfred looked upon Richard with wonder. “It has been far too long since we have seen you, sir. We had begun to fear for your safety. Shall I introduce you?”

  “No, go on about your duties, old man. I will sneak up on my cousin and give him a fright. I am sure he will believe me to be a ghost. Where will I find him?”

  “In his study.” Alfred bowed and offered a small smile. “Will you be staying with us, Master Richard?”

  Returning the man’s smile, Richard nodded. Alfred, and the family he worked for, was one of the good memories he held from childhood. “I will be here for the month if my cousin has no objection.”

  “Very good, sir. Welcome home.”

  Richard nodded again and made his way down the hall. It was little wonder the old butler had mistaken him for a stranger. He had not bothered to wear his dress regimentals, choosing instead to don the well-worn and outdated evening clothes his mother had bought him when he left Cambridge. Whatever illustrious guests his father was entertaining that night could look at his attire and judge him accordingly. He could afford to outfit himself in better quality garments, but he chose instead to pay off his debts—his largest one being owed to his cousin for purchasing his captain’s commission.

  Just as he reached the study door, a young, doe-eyed maid came through carrying a tray of tea things her master had obviously finished with. The look on her face was as serious as Alfred’s. Richard did not expect joviality from his cousin’s subordinates, but the dour expressions made him curious. Had his good-natured cousin become a curmudgeon in his absence? He smiled at the girl and then caught the door before it closed and leaned casually against the frame.

  “I swear, Jules, every servant in this place walks around with a look of fear about them, as if their fastidious master might sack them for inhaling at the wrong moment.”

  Julian Hale did not flinch at the unexpected voice, nor did he look up from his correspondence. He continued to write as he spoke.

  “It is not fear you see, but respect. One would think that after so much time spent with soldiers, you would know the difference. I suppose that is because you have earned so little yourself.”

&nbs
p; He continued to write for a moment before a small hint of a smile escaped. It was enough to send Richard into a fit of laughter.

  “God, Julian, what has happened to turn you into such an ill-tempered ass? Have you changed so much in two years?”

  Setting down his pen and rising, Hale appraised the man before him. “It seems you have not. You are still ill-mannered, unkempt, and unworthy of the slightest acknowledgement from a man of my stature.” His relief at seeing his cousin whole and standing before him could no longer be contained as he walked around the desk and held out his hand, smiling broadly. “Yet, you were missed, Cousin. Welcome home.”

  The two men shared an embrace and then stood back to appraise each other, Richard with an amused smile and Julian with a concerned frown. They were cousins; Julian’s mother and Richard’s father were siblings, yet there was little resemblance between them other than sharing the Granville height. Richard, with his brown hair and blue eyes, favored his mother’s family while Hale, like Richard’s brother Wesley and nearly all their male relations, had inherited the fair features of the Gravnilles. Their personalities were as dissimilar as their looks, yet they were bonded almost as brothers.

  “Come by the fire while I pour us something. It is too damned cold to be leaving the house tonight.”

  Richard fell heavily into a leather chair close to the hearth and watched as his cousin poured rather large portions of brandy into two snifters.

  “Shall I ask you where you came by this drink, Cousin? As a servant in His Majesty’s Army, I should haul you before a magistrate for keeping such contraband.”

  Hale smiled as he sat in the chair opposite his cousin. “I will tell you how I obtained the brandy if you tell me where you have been these last two years and why I have had so few letters from you.”

  “You need not tell me as I am sure it was a gift from my father, and you know I cannot divulge my whereabouts, Julian.”

  Hale took a small sip from his glass and a long appraisal of his cousin. “How long have you been back?”

  “About a fortnight. I could not come sooner. You ask about letters.” He paused for a drink. “It is true I wrote very few, but I have received many. I cannot tell you or a single soul other than my commanders about what it is I do for the Crown, but my father still knows my every move and can seek me out with disturbing accuracy. I did not hear from him, thankfully, but Wesley wrote often. I did not have much news to share, so I did not write much in return.”

  “Your brother wrote to you?” Hale could not keep the surprise from his voice. The brothers were hardly speaking when Hale last saw Richard.

  Richard nodded. “No doubt Father asked him to write. It is his way of keeping me at a distance yet close at the same time in case he ever has use for me, such as requiring my presence this evening. I imagine yours has been requested as well?”

  Julian took a long sip of brandy and then nodded. “Yes, Litchfield sent two missives, and when I failed to respond to his satisfaction, he paid me a visit. He only gained my acquiescence when he said you would be there. I did not really believe him, yet here you are. Do you know the reason behind the summons?”

  Richard smiled approvingly. Julian had never been taken in by Litchfield. He saw him for the evil man he was, no doubt due to his own father’s influence. Richard wished his brother had been more observant.

  “If I had to wager, I would say Wesley will be announcing his engagement.”

  Julian raised is eyebrows. “Ah, and who is the lucky lady who has finally won Wesley’s fealty?”

  “Do you truly not know? How can I know more London gossip than you, given I have been gone for two years? Have you become a hermit?”

  Julian smiled, knowing Wesley must have said something about his absence from society in his letters to Richard. He waited a moment to see if Richard would ask him a direct question before answering. Finally, Julian sighed and casually waved a hand in the air.

  “Very well. If I must provide information on Wesley’s betrothed, I would say she is beautiful, charming, and well versed in modern languages, as well as all the new dances. She can play, draw, and sing like no other. She is the jewel of society, and hearts will be broken all over London when Wesley carries her away.”

  “Yes, but what is her name?”

  Julian laughed and then added. “Does it matter, are they not all the same?”

  “Well, this one comes with a substantial dowry, and her father has a long-standing connection to mine. I believe Wesley has been waiting for her to come out.”

  “She must be quite young then.”

  “Not overly so. Twenty, nineteen perhaps. She has and elder sister whom her mother has been trying to marry off first. I suppose this means she has given up.”

  “Why was Wesley not matched with her? I assume her dowry is as substantial as her sister’s.”

  “I am sure it is.”

  “Ugly as mud, then?”

  Richard laughed and shook his head. “No, from what I remember, Rachel is quite lovely and as accomplished as all young ladies are expected to be. Intelligent, too.”

  “If you find her so pleasing, why not offer for her? You could leave the army and become a man of leisure.”

  Hale kept his tone light, but there was genuine emotion behind his words. He had offered his cousin, more than once, a small estate that had passed to him by entailment through a distant relative. It did not provide a large income, but it would give Richard a living that did not keep him away for years or endanger his life. Richard’s pride had not allowed him to accept it. It had only been the strong desire to be free from his father that led Richard to borrow money for his commission. It would require a desire just as strong for him to take anything else.

  “Oh no. I could never marry Rachel. She pines for a lost love, you see, and refuses to marry anyone else. She was engaged to one of Wesley’s best friends from Cambridge. He was an unfortunate second son, like myself, and chose the Navy as a profession. His ship disappeared while out on maneuvers—the entire crew lost. She broke her heart over it and will not consider any other man.”

  “So convince her. You must have some charms to recommend you.”

  Richard crossed one long leg over the other and shook his head. “No, when I marry, the lady will be completely innocent and unspoiled by love.”

  “So she will not know what she is missing?”

  “So she will be loyal only to me. I will not have my woman loving a ghost. What about you? Is it not time to get on with the business of providing your massive estate with an heir?”

  Julian sighed. “Yes, I suppose it is past time, yet I am not inclined to do so.”

  Richard settled back in his chair and finally asked that direct question Julian had anticipated. “Are you going to tell me what has kept you out of society these last years? Wesley complained in his letters that you rarely participate in the frivolities of the season and are even more reclusive while in the country.”

  Julian’s voiced hardened, and he looked away. “My duties keep me busy.”

  Richard said nothing. He just waited quietly for the truth. The howl of the wind rattled the windows, and Julian looked to them as if they might break from the force. Another gust sounded down the fireplace, causing the flames to flicker and send dancing shadows through the room. Julian stood and walked to the fireplace to stoke the fire. His eyes remained on the flames as he spoke.

  “In truth, Richard, I simply do not care for this society in which we are supposed to revel. It leaves one feeling dirty and reviled. I dislike having my wealth and connections summed up to the entire room as soon as I enter it, knowing it is only those things that the women who are suitable enough for me to marry are interested in. I have spent six years out in society, and I cannot say that I can count any of the dozens of people within our circles as a friend. It is a lonely existence, and I, frankly, have come to prefer my own company.”

  “Well, I cannot entirely disagree with you on those points. Still, I do not
believe that is enough to make one a hermit. You have always been far more critical of yourself than of others, Julian. Are you certain there is nothing specific that has caused this change?”

  Julian returned the poker to its holder and faced his cousin. Richard could see both disappointment and shame cross his features before they were tamed into a neutral expression. “Nothing that I care to speak of. I will only say you should not expect me to lose my heart any time soon, at least not to anyone belonging to the fray put on display in our society every night.”

  Richard rose and clasped Julian’s shoulder. “Shall you trust Fate to throw a proper girl in your path, then?”

  They both laughed. “The belief in Fate has one standing on stony beaches waiting for their ghost lover to return. Let us make our way to Litchfield’s. I believe we are in no danger of losing our hearts there.”

  “No, indeed. Only our souls.”

  Chapter 2

  The short walk to Litchfield House served to be enough to numb the gentlemen in both body and spirit. The cold wind whipped around and through them, preparing them for the chill they were likely to find inside that evening. The convivial spirit the two enjoyed earlier was gone as each prepared to thwart whatever Lord Litchfield’s machinations would be. Though Richard was sure the evening would bring news of his brother’s betrothal, his father would never miss the chance to manipulate all those around him, even if only for his own amusement.

  As they entered, a shrill, cackling laugh descended upon them, greeting them in much the same way the wind had earlier. The butler did not react to the sound as he took their outwear and handed them to a footman.

  Richard raised his eyebrows and turned to Julian as they descended the steps into the grand hall. “It seems my father brought a harpy back with him from his last trip to hell.”

  Julian barely smiled as they stepped toward the closed doors of the drawing room, where the butler was leading them. When the doors opened and they were announced, Richard scanned the room in his usual eagle-like fashion. His father’s men dotted the perimeter of the room. These were burly men who guarded the earl at all times. Richard did not recognize the faces, but he did not need to. He knew who they were and what their job was. He wondered briefly how his father always managed to find these men, always with the same look about them—mean, solid, yet short in stature. The earl would never have a subordinate looking down on him, not even one meant to intimidate.