Stranger in My Arms(2)

“I’m fine,” Lara interrupted, stiffening at his touch.

A frown knit her smooth brow. She pulled away and went to the window, longing to escape the over-decorated parlor.

The walls were covered in bright pink silk and heavy gold scrollwork, the corners filled with vases of exotic palms. It seemed that every inch of available space was taken up with a collection of what Janet referred to as “friggers,” concoctions of glass birds and trees covered with clear protective domes.

“Careful,” Janet exclaimed sharply, as Lara’s heavy skirts brushed the side of a glass bowl set in a tripod mahogany stand, causing it to wobble.

Lara glanced down at the forlorn pair of goldfish swimming in the bowl, and then back at Janet’s pinched, narrow face. “They shouldn’t be placed in the window,” Lara heard herself murmur. “They don’t like too much light.”

Janet let out a contemptuous laugh: “You would know best, I’m sure,” she said acidly, and Lara knew she would make a point of keeping the fish exactly where they were.

Sighing, Lara turned her gaze to the fields surrounding Hawksworth Hall. The land extending from the former Norman stronghold was studded with groves of chestnut and oak, and cut by a wide and flowing river.

The same river provided a mill-stream and shipping channel for the nearby town of Market HilL, a bustling and prosperous port.

A flock of mallards settled on the artificial lake in front of the Hall, disrupting the regal progress of a pair of swans. Past the lake was a road leading to town, and an ancient stone bridge known to the locals as the “bridge of the damned.” Legend had it that the devil himself had placed the bridge there with the stated intention of collecting the soul of the first man who crossed it. As the story went, the only one who dared to set foot on the bridge was a Crossland ancestor, who had defied the devil and refused to hand over his soul.

The devil had placed a curse on all his descendants, that they would always have difficulty producing male issue to carry on the line.

Lara could almost believe the tale. Each generation of Crossland men had produced very few children, and most of the males had died at a relatively young age. including Hunter.

Smiling sadly, Lara forced her thoughts back to the present and turned toward Mr. Young. He was a small, slight man, his face nearly level with her own.

“If this stranger is indeed my husband,” she asked calmly, “why has he not returned before now?”

“According to his story,” Young replied, “he floated in the ocean for two days following the shipwreck, and was picked up by a fishing vessel en route to Cape Town. He was wounded in the wreck, and had no recollection of who he was. He didn’t even know his own name. A few months afterward his memory returned and he set sail for England.”

Arthur snorted contemptuously. “Not remember his own identity? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Apparently it is possible,” the estate manager countered. “I’ve discussed the matter with Dr. Slade, the family physician, and he confirms that such cases, though rare, have been reported.”

“How interesting,” Arthur said sarcastically.

“Don’t tell me you give any credence to this sham, Young.”

“None of us can determine the truth until the stranger is interviewed by those who knew Hawksworth well.”

“Mr. Young,” Lara said, concealing her inner turmoil, “you were acquainted with my husband for many years. I would appreciate it if you would go to London and meet this man. Even if he is not the late earl, it sounds as if he could be troubled and in need of help.

Something must be done for him.”

“How very like you, Lady Hawksworth,” Young remarked. “I dare say most people wouldn’t conceive of helping a stranger who is attempting to deceive them. You are a kind woman indeed.”

“Yes,” Arthur agreed dryly. “My nephew’s widow is the patron saint of beggars, orphans, and stray dogs. She can’t resist giving away whatever she has to others.”

“Which is why we haven’t seen fit to supplement Lara’s annuity,” Janet added. “The extra money would only slip through her fingers, as even the smallest child seems able to take advantage of her.

She’s given everything she owns to that shabby orphanage.”

Lara’s face burned at their snide remarks. “The orphans need money far more than I do,” she said.

“They need a great many things that others could provide quite easily.”

“I have been charged with preserving the family fortune for future generations,” Arthur snapped.

“Not to squander it on parentless children.”

“Very well,” Young interceded hastily, interrupting the brewing argument. “If it pleases all of you, I shall depart for London along with Dr. Slade, who knew the late earl since birth. We will see if there is any truth to this man’s claims.” He gave Lara a reassuring smile.

“Do not distress yourself, my lady.

I’m sure all will turn out for the best.”

Relieved to escape the Hawksworths’ presence, Lara went to the old gamekeeper’s cottage, which was set at a distance from the castle along the willow-lined riverbank. The cottage was a far cry from the large timbered Elizabethan gatehouse that had once been used as separate quarters for guests or visiting relatives.