Blade blinked twice at the note in his hands. Read it a third time to be certain he wasn’t hallucinating.
Hazel was in London.
And she wanted to meet him at the park.
“Wiggins!” he bellowed.
The butler appeared in the study doorway. “My lord?”
“I’m going to the park for a bit.”
“Very good, sir.”
Blade rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, it’s not.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m meeting a young lady there, but I can’t be seen with her. Or she can’t be seen with me.” He paced behind his desk. “Lady Penelope would be more than a little displeased.”
Wiggins’s usually pasty pallor turned pink. “I, er, believe I understand your dilemma, my lord.”
“It’s complicated,” Blade said. “The woman is Kitty’s headmistress, and she needs to speak with me and requested that I meet her.”
“Surely Lady Penelope would understand.”
Blade snorted. “No, she would not, and, unfortunately, she has more gossip-loving informants than France has spies. If I were seen strolling in the park with another woman, she’d know about it before I could walk home and hang my hat.”
“May I make a suggestion, my lord?”
“I wish you would, Wiggins.”
The butler straightened his waistcoat, arched a bushy eyebrow, and proceeded to tell Blade the plan.
Hazel had not anticipated rain in St. James Park, which only proved how distracted she was.
This was London, after all.
“Miss Lively?”
Hazel spun around to find a cherub-faced older woman wearing a white cap and holding an umbrella. She was standing just off the pebbled path beneath a large chestnut tree.
“How do you know my name?”
The fair-haired woman glanced both ways down the path and lowered her voice before answering. “I work for Lord Bladenton,” she said, handing Hazel his card. “He asked me to fetch you.”
Blade hadn’t bothered to come himself. Hazel tamped down a stab of disappointment, turned the card over, and read the brief inscription on the back. Please come. I’ll explain.—B
“My name is Mrs. Wiggins,” the woman said warmly. “Lord Bladenton’s housekeeper. Forgive all the subterfuge. I’ve known the earl since he was a wee lad, and I must say this is the most curious request he’s ever made, but I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m pleased to meet you as well.”
“Come along then.” Mrs. Wiggins beckoned, holding the umbrella between them. Hazel gratefully ducked under and quickly discovered that while Mrs. Wiggins had the soft-spoken, kindly demeanor of a grandmother, she walked with the brisk, purposeful stride of a soldier. “It’s only a few blocks to Bladenton House where we can give you a proper welcome.”
Before long, the housekeeper was whisking Hazel through a grand garden and onto a stately terrace that made Lady Rufflebum’s beautiful house in Bellehaven seem positively rustic by comparison.
“Here we are.” Mrs. Wiggins opened a French door and waved Hazel through—into the most gorgeous ballroom Hazel had ever seen. Pale light from the immense windows illuminated oak floors inlaid with intricate mahogany medallions, towering walls covered in exquisite artwork, and a vast ceiling painted with fanciful pastoral scenes.
“Oh my,” Hazel breathed.
“I should have liked to bring you through the front door, but the earl insisted that discretion was necessary,” Mrs. Wiggins explained, somewhat embarrassed.
“Thank you for escorting me here,” Hazel said. But she began to wonder if she’d made a mistake. This was Blade’s world—and it couldn’t have been more different from the modest boardinghouse she called home.
As if she could read Hazel’s thoughts, Mrs. Wiggins clucked her tongue. “The earl seemed most eager to see you. He’s waiting in the drawing room, and he was pacing like a caged animal when I left him there.”
Hazel felt as though she owed the woman an explanation. “I’m headmistress of the school that his niece attends,” she said. “Kitty is fine, but I had a few matters that I needed to discuss with him—in person.”
Mrs. Wiggins nodded as if this made perfect sense. Never mind the fact that headmistresses did not pay visits to the homes of earls.
As they wound their way through a maze of corridors, rooms, and staircases, the housekeeper pointed out interesting tidbits. “This bust is a likeness of Lord Bladenton’s grandfather … I remember when the earl used to slide through this hallway in his stockinged feet … He and his brother once rode down this staircase on a wooden sled.”
Hazel soaked in the knowledge, savoring the rare glimpses into Blade’s past. She filed away the clues from his childhood, hoping they’d shed light on the man he’d become.
“The drawing room is just through there.” Mrs. Wiggins paused and gestured toward a door several yards away. “Would you like me to accompany you, Miss Lively?”
“Pardon?”
“I can serve as a chaperone if you’d like.”
“Oh.” Hazel blushed. “I should have thought of that. You must think me quite bereft of manners.”
“Not at all. Mr. Wiggins and I are the only souls who know you’re here, and you needn’t worry about either of us talking out of turn. But if you’re concerned about the appearance of impropriety, I can tuck myself in a corner of the drawing room while you speak to the earl.”
Hazel smiled, touched. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. I trust the earl—and you as well.”
“Very good.” The apples of her cheeks glowed with approval. “There’s a hot pot of tea inside and a plate of scones. Just ring if you require anything at all.”
Hazel thanked the housekeeper and glided into the drawing room. Blade stood near the fireplace, glaring at his pocket watch. His hair stood on end as though he’d raked it with his fingers a dozen or more times. His cravat was dreadfully askew.
And still, he made her belly flutter.
“Blade.”
He turned to her, swallowed up the ground between them in three long strides, and drew up short—as if he’d just remembered he shouldn’t sweep her into his arms. His chest was a scant few inches from hers. “Hazel,” he breathed.
The air around them was charged with energy. It would only take one tremulous touch, one heated glance to spark a fire.
“Are you all right?” There was an edge to his voice. A hint of desperation. “Please say you’re all right.”
“I am,” she assured him. “Are you … going to invite me in?”
He muttered a curse. “Of course,” he said, extending an arm toward the center of the room. “Please make yourself comfortable—and forgive me. I was shocked to learn that you were in London.”
“I hope it wasn’t an unpleasant surprise,” she teased. She crossed the plush, pale-green carpet and sank onto a velvet bench seat in an alcove full of silk pillows. Raindrops pattered on the mullioned window behind her. With a stack of books and the occasional cup of tea, she’d be content to spend the rest of her life right there.
“I’m always glad to see you, Hazel.”
He sat beside her, and the nook suddenly seemed less conducive to reading and more conducive to … other things.
“How did you travel here?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me you didn’t take the mail coach.”
Hazel shook her head. “I came in Lady Rufflebum’s coach, with her companion. When I learned that Miss Whitford was visiting her sister in town for the day, I asked if I could come along and visit a friend.”
He arched a dark brow. “A friend?”
“The countess and her companion may be operating under the erroneous assumption that the friend is a woman I went to school with,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have fibbed if it wasn’t important.”
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here.” The raw sincerity in his voice warmed her insides. “I didn’t want to meet in the park where someone might see us.”
Hazel’s belly sank. “Because of Penelope?”
Blade started to reach for Hazel’s hand, then crossed his arms and nodded. “She’s not above spreading gossip—and it can be vicious. I don’t give a damn what she says about me, but I won’t permit her to speak ill of you or Bellehaven Academy.”
Hazel shrugged off a prickle of apprehension and mustered a smile. “This setting is far better than the park, and Mrs. Wiggins is a delight.”
“She is,” he agreed. “But you did not come here to meet my former nanny.”
“That’s true.” Hazel wriggled off her slippers and tucked her legs beneath her skirt so she could face Blade. “I have something to say, and you might not like it. That is, it might sting for a bit.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
She took a deep breath, like she was about to tear off a bandage. “I know about Eliza. I know that she was Kitty’s mother, and your first love. I know that she married your brother, and that you were estranged from them both.”
Blade turned ghostly pale. He looked away, as though he needed a moment to compose himself before meeting her gaze. “You didn’t need to come all the way from Bellehaven to tell me that,” he said dryly. “It’s not as though I’d forgotten.”
“I know. I came here to tell you that I understand. That I’m sorry you lost them both. Twice.”
“Jesus, Hazel.” He propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. “You don’t understand. If you did, you wouldn’t be bringing it up right now. You’d know that I do my damnedest to get through every day not thinking about Simon and Eliza. Not thinking about—” His voice cracked. “Fuck.”
“Tell me.” Hazel reached for one of his hands, peeled his clenched fingers open, and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Tell me everything. The very worst parts. Let the demons out … let me fight them alongside you.”
He hesitated, then tugged his hand away. “It’s … it’s not the sort of thing you should have to hear.”
“Are you afraid my ears are too delicate? Because I assure you, they’re not. Nothing you can say will scare me away, Blade. Nothing can change the way I feel about you.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said flatly.
She raised her chin. “Then try me.”
“Bloody hell.” He leaned forward again and drew in a deep, ragged breath. “Fine. The second worst day of my life was the day I turned twenty-two. Eliza and I were engaged. I’d traveled to London to buy her a ring and couldn’t wait to show it to her. Couldn’t wait to begin our life together.
“I returned home a day earlier than expected. A maid tried to stop me from going directly to my room.” Blade barked a hollow laugh. “But I wanted to change my clothes before I visited Eliza. So I walked in.”
“Oh no.” She pressed a hand to her heart. Felt it thump with dread.
“Simon was lying in my bloody bed. And Eliza—the woman who’d sworn she loved me—was on top of him.” He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he was trying to unsee it.
“Oh my God.” Hazel’s throat constricted. “I’m sorry.”
“I staggered into the hallway. Retched on the carpet. Then I walked back into my room. Eliza was wrapped in a sheet, crying. Simon had one leg in his trousers and was tripping over himself, trying to explain.
“I couldn’t stand the sight of them. I told them to leave, to never come back.” Blade’s jaw twitched. “They never did.”
Hazel brushed an errant lock from his forehead and let her fingers drift though his hair. “You must have been devastated.”
“I would have given my life for either of them,” he said, softer. “I thought we’d all grow old together. Eliza and I would have a large, happy brood. Simon would marry and have a nursery-full of his own. But that single moment—when I discovered how they’d betrayed me—obliterated everything I thought I knew about marriage and family and love.”
“And yet,” Hazel said slowly, “it was only the second worst day?”
“Right.” Blade gripped the edge of the bench seat, turning his knuckles white. “The worst day of my life was fifteen years later, when a frantic footman arrived on my doorstep. There had been a carriage accident. Simon and Eliza were both gravely injured but hanging on. My brother was begging to see me.
“And I knew I’d made a mistake.” His voice cracked on the last syllable. “In refusing to speak to him all those years. In shutting him out. He’d written me scores of times—at least once a month. And I never opened his letters. Every time I stuffed one in a drawer, I told myself I was avoiding further pain. But there was a twisted side of me that savored the thought of punishing him.”
Hazel caressed the back of his neck. “You’re not to blame, you know.”
He scoffed at that. “I saddled my horse and rode to Somerset like the hounds of hell were at my heels. I needed to see Simon and tell him that in spite of everything, he was still my brother. But when I got there … it was too late. He was gone. Eliza, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Hazel breathed.
He grabbed fistfuls of his hair. “A maid ushered me to their room. They were lying beside each other in a four-poster bed, broken and bruised. Through her sobs, the maid said their dying wish was for me to act as guardian to Kitty. Until that very second, I didn’t even know I had a niece,” he sputtered. “Why would they entrust her to me? What the devil do I know about raising a girl?”
“More than you think,” Hazel murmured. She rubbed his back in light, soothing strokes.
“So now you know,” he said soberly. “I lost the people I loved most. Twice. I can’t risk a third time, Hazel. I don’t think I’d survive it.”