down upon the large bed, covered herself with the thick patchwork goose down, and prayed that the feeling would pass. But she understood all too well that wouldn’t happen. In fact, the feeling would worsen until she was a whimpering ball.
It had been one of Mrs. Palmer’s favorite punishments: the abrupt withholding of laudanum, and then its blessed return.
There was but one choice. And she would now take it.
She fingered her shift. There was no chance of going out thus. Even she knew she looked worse than a street urchin grown to adulthood.
Eva closed her eyes for a moment, wondering whether she was truly going to do this. She opened her eyes and walked to the bellpull by the small fire, purpose in her step. Freedom only moments away.
Chapter 9
England
Three years earlier
L ord Carin’s labored breath drifted through the room, a grim harbinger of death. Ian clenched his teeth, willing back tears. He wouldn’t cry. He’d been taught long ago that gentlemen didn’t allow such indulgence, but, God, it hurt so bad he felt certain his entire body might fracture under the pressure.
The man who’d become his father was but a shell of the big, larger-than-life lord who had shaped his destiny. The old man’s beard, now white, matched the transparent hue of his skin. Lord Carin’s eyes stared, vague from the laudanum poured down his throat to ease his suffering.
It had come on fast, this illness. Less than three weeks had passed since his decline had begun. And now his big body had wasted away, barely taking up any significant space of the ancient oak four-poster bed. The curtains were drawn, bathing them in darkness.
“Ian?” the old man rasped.
Ian swallowed in a deep breath, then crossed to kneel by the bed. They’d been warned Lord Carin would begin to call them in. To make his peace. He’d called Ian first.
The bed shifted slightly under Ian’s elbows as he leaned forward. “Lord Carin?”
The old lord turned his head, the slight move a painful effort. “You’re a good boy.”
Ian’s heart warmed at the kind words. It was all he’d longed for since his parents’ death, this man’s approval and love. And Eva, but she belonged to Hamilton. “Thank you, m’lord.”
Carin nodded slightly and reached out slowly, his swollen hand shaking. “Good boy, indeed. The son I wish . . .” Carin closed his eyes, his paper-thin lids twitching ever so slightly.
“Please, my lord,” Ian whispered. “Don’t trouble yourself. You’ve been a father to me. More than I—”
“It was a damned mistake,” the old man cut in abruptly. Ian stilled, his breath catching.
Lord Carin’s eyes snapped open and his gaze was hard as he glared at Ian. “I love you, boy, and it has been the greatest mistake of my life. Loving you.”
Ian shook his head, shocked. “Sir?”
“I—” Lord Carin drew in a gasping, haunting breath, as if one foot were already in the next world. “I have ruined Hamilton. Ruined him by loving you more.”
Ian couldn’t reply. The words hit him, hard slashes to his soul. How had he done such wrong? For, surely, this had to be his fault. This sudden censure. “I only wanted to please you.”
“And you did. You always had to be better than Hamilton. Always. And I c-couldn’t help admiring you.”
Ian’s hands pressed into the counterpane as the meaning of those words became clear. Was it true? Had he tried to come between father and son, not even realizing it?
“You’ve seen the man Hamilton is becoming. Shallow . . . unkind.”
Ian had seen it. The last months had been difficult, their friendship stretched after the incident with the horse.
Lord Carin glanced to the door. “Call in Eva.”
Ian hesitated, but then stood and went to the door. He peered out into the dark, quiet hall, where Hamilton, Thomas, Eva, and the doctor stood.
The awkward strangeness of it seemed to fill the large space, the four of them standing silently in the corridor, waiting, unsure. “Eva,
It had been one of Mrs. Palmer’s favorite punishments: the abrupt withholding of laudanum, and then its blessed return.
There was but one choice. And she would now take it.
She fingered her shift. There was no chance of going out thus. Even she knew she looked worse than a street urchin grown to adulthood.
Eva closed her eyes for a moment, wondering whether she was truly going to do this. She opened her eyes and walked to the bellpull by the small fire, purpose in her step. Freedom only moments away.
Chapter 9
England
Three years earlier
L ord Carin’s labored breath drifted through the room, a grim harbinger of death. Ian clenched his teeth, willing back tears. He wouldn’t cry. He’d been taught long ago that gentlemen didn’t allow such indulgence, but, God, it hurt so bad he felt certain his entire body might fracture under the pressure.
The man who’d become his father was but a shell of the big, larger-than-life lord who had shaped his destiny. The old man’s beard, now white, matched the transparent hue of his skin. Lord Carin’s eyes stared, vague from the laudanum poured down his throat to ease his suffering.
It had come on fast, this illness. Less than three weeks had passed since his decline had begun. And now his big body had wasted away, barely taking up any significant space of the ancient oak four-poster bed. The curtains were drawn, bathing them in darkness.
“Ian?” the old man rasped.
Ian swallowed in a deep breath, then crossed to kneel by the bed. They’d been warned Lord Carin would begin to call them in. To make his peace. He’d called Ian first.
The bed shifted slightly under Ian’s elbows as he leaned forward. “Lord Carin?”
The old lord turned his head, the slight move a painful effort. “You’re a good boy.”
Ian’s heart warmed at the kind words. It was all he’d longed for since his parents’ death, this man’s approval and love. And Eva, but she belonged to Hamilton. “Thank you, m’lord.”
Carin nodded slightly and reached out slowly, his swollen hand shaking. “Good boy, indeed. The son I wish . . .” Carin closed his eyes, his paper-thin lids twitching ever so slightly.
“Please, my lord,” Ian whispered. “Don’t trouble yourself. You’ve been a father to me. More than I—”
“It was a damned mistake,” the old man cut in abruptly. Ian stilled, his breath catching.
Lord Carin’s eyes snapped open and his gaze was hard as he glared at Ian. “I love you, boy, and it has been the greatest mistake of my life. Loving you.”
Ian shook his head, shocked. “Sir?”
“I—” Lord Carin drew in a gasping, haunting breath, as if one foot were already in the next world. “I have ruined Hamilton. Ruined him by loving you more.”
Ian couldn’t reply. The words hit him, hard slashes to his soul. How had he done such wrong? For, surely, this had to be his fault. This sudden censure. “I only wanted to please you.”
“And you did. You always had to be better than Hamilton. Always. And I c-couldn’t help admiring you.”
Ian’s hands pressed into the counterpane as the meaning of those words became clear. Was it true? Had he tried to come between father and son, not even realizing it?
“You’ve seen the man Hamilton is becoming. Shallow . . . unkind.”
Ian had seen it. The last months had been difficult, their friendship stretched after the incident with the horse.
Lord Carin glanced to the door. “Call in Eva.”
Ian hesitated, but then stood and went to the door. He peered out into the dark, quiet hall, where Hamilton, Thomas, Eva, and the doctor stood.
The awkward strangeness of it seemed to fill the large space, the four of them standing silently in the corridor, waiting, unsure. “Eva,
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