Aural memory rang in his ears.
First, the sound of rain pinging against glass. Then, the squeak of an upended carriage wheel uselessly revolving in a raging wind. Finally, a voice—hisvoice—screaming out in terror and pain.
Again, he settled his gaze on the horizon, this time, just above the top of the castle tower.
The suffocating sensation would pass. It always did. He refocused on the present with a silent, but deep, inhale.
Pen was, doubtlessly, correct. He had no real reason to mistrust his friends’ choice, just an instinctive sense of unease. But not having a definitive reason for concern certainly didn’t preclude him from investigating the nursemaid’s past on his own.
He nodded as if Pen had convinced him to let the topic go. “Alicia has a good friend in you.”
“Well”—Pen arched a brow—“with you and Chev and Ash as close as you are, we ladies must stick together. In fact, whenyoufall in love andmarry—which, by the by, it’s high time you should consider doing—our numbers will finally be?—”
“Please,” he interrupted. Pen was the last person with whom he’d choose to discuss marriage. A decade and a half of denied feelings had been torture enough. “At least let me make myself presentable before you start planning my nuptials.”
“Oh, very well, Spoilsport.” She released his arm. “I should return to the festivities, anyway.”
“Which begs the question…just whatwereyou doing wandering around outside the stables?”
She sighed. “If you must know, I was interrupting a tryst.”
“You’re not serious!”
She nodded. “I didn’t think much when Thaddeus disappeared. But then the eldest daughter of the Earl of Witford headed toward the house. I had just sent them back to the party alone, each in a different direction, when I spotted you coming up the drive.”
“Thaddeus would never do anything dishonorable.”
“Not intentionally, no. Consequences, however, aren’t first in the mind of someone sixteen years of age.”
“As you and Chev well know,” Hurtheven murmured.
“Do not”—Pen cast him a warning glance—“remind me.”
“Go, then. I will be down as soon as I’m presentable—but don’t tell anyone I’ve arrived just yet. I’d like to surprise Chev and Ash.”
She squeezed his arm before releasing him. “Welcome home, Hurtheven.”
“Thank you, Pen,” he replied sincerely.
Her enveloping scent faded as her figure swished down the lane.
Suddenly, he, too, was a youth again, watching a sleepy blacksmith in Gretna Green say the words which placed her forever beyond his reach.
Not that he would change things, even if he could. He’d made his choice all those years ago—friendship over love.
And thank God Pen had never truly given up on finding her lost husband. If she had, she might have accepted Hurtheven’s proposal, and then, when Chev had miraculously returned from his ordeal, Hurtheven would have lost Chev twice—a thought too disturbing to contemplate.
He turned back onto the path and trudged onward toward the castle.
Cheverley and Pen. Ash and Alicia. Happiness all around.So.Much.Happiness.
But for him?
…when you fall in love and marry…
Another heart spasm.
Although fond of female company, he simply couldn’t picture either. The only time he’d fallen in love had cost him only pain, embarrassment, and regret. He’d no wish to risk a second blunder. And no one besides Pen had ever tempted him to risk his heart—ifhe was even capable any longer.
