“Then it’s a pity she looks like the very best grade of Bond Street ware.” Seeing Grey’s thunderous expression, Peter said hastily, “I believe you that she’s no whore, but she is … not what one would expect of your bride. Why did you bring her to Summerhill when Father is dying and you’re returning from the dead? Not exactly ideal circumstances for introducing a new member of the family.”

Grey said, “The good news is that Father isn’t dying. He woke up and spoke to me. Mother is with him now.”

Peter’s face brightened. “Wonderful!”

Grey took a sip of his brandy. It was tempting to get drunk, but he and Peter wouldn’t have fought if his brother hadn’t been drunk enough to ruin his judgment. Or perhaps his temper. Peter was obviously not happy about losing his expectations.

“Cassie is here to keep me sane.” Grey’s laughter was bitter. “I thought I was making progress on that front, but apparently not. If she’d been here, I wouldn’t have come so close to fratricide.”

“She can stop you when you run mad like that?” Peter asked skeptically.

Grey smiled fondly. “She certainly can.”

“You seem sane enough now,” Peter said hesitantly.

Grey realized he needed to explain more. “Cassie went alone into the castle where I was imprisoned and freed me and the priest in the next cell, who had become my only tie to reality. She got us to sanctuary and guided me out of the country, lending me her strength and sanity when I had none. Believe me, I am much improved. I owe her more than I can ever possibly repay.”

Peter frowned. “She sounds admirable, but is it reason enough to marry her?”

Choosing his words carefully, Grey said, “I want to marry Cassie, but she hasn’t said yes yet. She wants to wait and see how things develop.” He drew an uneven breath. “She’ll leave soon. I may never see her again.” Saying that aloud was agonizing.

Hearing the pain in his brother’s voice, Peter said awkwardly, “I’m sorry. Can you … manage without her?”

“I’ll have to, won’t I?” Grey said brusquely. “What about you, Peter? I thought you were happy I’m alive, but when I came in, you acted as if I was your worst enemy.”

“I am happy you’re back. Truly. And I rather like Cassie, from what I’ve seen of her. But”—his brother ran stiff fingers through his tangled blond hair—“I looked up to you so much. When you disappeared, it was … it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I spent years waiting and hoping. We all did.”

Grey winced. “If only I’d had the sense to return to England when I was warned to do so!”

“That would have made all our lives easier, but you couldn’t know the consequences. If you’d been interned, we’d have learned of it and could have settled down and waited for you to come home. As it was …” Peter shrugged. “Of course we assumed the worst.”

“From what Cassie tells me, being interned isn’t bad. Boring, but living a fairly normal life.” And not being driven mad by isolation. “Of course, if I’d been interned, I’d still be in France, waiting and wondering if this bloody war would ever end.”

“But we would have known you were alive.” Peter sighed roughly. “Instead, without anyone quite admitting you must be dead, people started treating me as the heir. Seven years after your presumed death, the earl said it was time I styled myself as Lord Wyndham. Mother moved my things in here when I was at university. I began to think of myself as the next Earl of Costain. I learned how to run the estate, started paying attention to Parliament. And now”—he spread his hand in a hopeless gesture—“you come back and it’s all snatched away. All that effort and planning for nothing.”

Grey glanced around the sitting room, which was easily ten times the size of his cell in France. And the suite had a bedroom and dressing area as well. “You can have these rooms. I don’t need them and it hardly seems fair to drive you out. But I can’t let you have the title and the entailed property. The law doesn’t work that way. As long as I’m alive, I’m the heir.”

“I know.” Peter struggled to his feet and poured more water before sinking wearily back onto the carpet. “I’ve spent the night drinking and wondering what to do with my life. I’ve no taste for becoming an idle wastrel.”

“The traditional occupations for a younger son are the church, politics, or the military. None of them interest you?” When Peter made a face, Grey asked, “Is there something less traditional you’d really like to do?”

Peter hesitated, his expression torn. “The theater. I want to be an actor.”

“An actor?” Grey asked incredulously.

His brother’s expression closed. “You see why I don’t talk about it. Not that I ever thought the theater was possible. Until you returned, Summerhill was my fate.”

Grey studied Peter’s handsome, youthful face. His first reaction on meeting his grown brother the day before had been how much they resembled each other. It was true that they had similar height, build, and coloring, and anyone seeing them together would immediately know they were related.

But they’d always had very different temperaments. Grey was outgoing, interested in people and in solving problems. Peter had been more of a dreamer, enjoying art and music and, yes, the plays that were occasionally staged during house parties. He said slowly, “I remember that even as a little boy, you enjoyed taking part in plays. The adults always found your earnestness rather charming. But your interest was serious even at that age, wasn’t it?”

Peter nodded. “I fell in love with acting the first time I stepped onto an improvised stage. I love the language, the drama, the larger-than-life characters. It’s …” The flow of words cut off and he sank against the chair behind him. “It’s impossible.”

“Have you had the opportunity to act in recent years?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” his brother admitted. “But last summer I stayed with a friend up in Yorkshire. There’s a good-sized theater there, and the company manager did a special production of As You Like It with local people acting in many of the roles. That’s the play with the “All the world’s a stage” speech. The idea was to get friends and neighbors buying tickets to see the show. I auditioned and was cast as Orlando.”

Orlando was the romantic lead, if Grey remembered his Shakespeare. With Peter’s looks, he was a natural for such roles. “Did the play do well?”

“Most of the acting was dreadful, but the manager, Burke, made pots of money.” Peter paused, then said shyly, “After the last show, Burke took me aside and said that if I ever wanted to act professionally, there would be a place for me in his company. He knew I was a gentleman, but I auditioned as Peter Sommers so he didn’t realize that I was heir to an earldom.” His mouth twisted. “At least, I was then.”

“Which would you pick if you had a choice?” Grey asked. “The earldom or being a successful actor?”

“Acting,” Peter said instantly. “I wouldn’t even have to be well known. A journeyman’s career with steady work would be beyond my maddest dreams.”

“Then do it,” Grey said flatly. “The parents won’t be best pleased, but I will support you in this. And if they cut off your allowance, I’ll see you don’t starve.”

His brother’s jaw dropped. “You’d do that? You wouldn’t be ashamed to have your brother become a common player?”

“I think you’d be an uncommon player.” Grey smiled ruefully. “Ten years in a dungeon strip away a lot of ideas about what is proper. You were willing to do your duty as heir to Costain when that seemed necessary. Now that it isn’t, I think you should do what you love. Even if you fail, better to try and fail than to spend your life wishing you’d tried.”

“I won’t fail,” Peter said intensely. “I’m good, Grey. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to succeed.”

Grey grinned. “Am I forgiven for surviving?”

“Now I have even more reason to be grateful you’re alive!” Peter was bubbling with delight. “I’ll write Mr. Burke and tell him I’m taking him up on his offer. It will be small roles, I’m sure, but a start.”

“I’m glad. Today Yorkshire, tomorrow London!” Grey set aside the rest of his drink since it was now daylight, and brandy was a damned odd breakfast. “I suggest you wait a few days till Father is stronger before announcing your plans.”

“I’ll wait until I hear from Mr. Burke before I speak up. And if he’s changed his mind, well, I’ll find another theater manager to approach.” Peter cocked his head to one side. “What about you, Grey? Have you ever had secret dreams of what you want?”

Grey had never thought about it, but his answer was immediate. “This.” He made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “Summerhill. For as long as I can remember, I’ve known that I am Summerhill, and it is me. The land, the people, the responsibilities of the earldom. I’m even looking forward to sitting in Parliament and helping to steer the ship of state. There’s nothing else I’ve ever wanted.” Except Cassie.

“Then it’s a damned good thing you’ve returned from the dead,” Peter said with a grin. “Because you’ll make a much better earl than I would.”

Perhaps, perhaps not. But like Peter, Grey was determined to do what was necessary to succeed.


Chapter 36

Cassie was awakened by a maid with a small pitcher of hot chocolate and a note from Grey. “Would you like to go for a ride after breakfast? It’s a perfect day to see Summerhill .”

She glanced out the window and saw the pale, clear sunshine of early spring. He’d promised her fine horses. She scribbled, “Yes, please!” on the note and directed the maid to take it to Lord Wyndham. A good thing Kiri had found a riding habit, golden with dark brown trim, for Cassie’s hastily assembled wardrobe.

After donning the dashing habit, Cassie headed downstairs for a proper breakfast. News of the earl’s recovery had lightened the atmosphere. Lady Elizabeth had been staying at Summerhill since her father’s injury, but now she looked forward to going home. Peter positively beamed at Cassie, and Grey greeted her with proper formality while his eyes made wicked suggestions.

Lady Costain had been with her husband, but she came down to the breakfast parlor to say, “Costain wants to meet you, Miss St. Ives.”

“Is he strong enough for visitors outside the family?” Cassie asked, hoping she didn’t have to meet him.

“He is much stronger, and quite firm about meeting you,” the countess replied.

No escape there. “Then it will be my pleasure,” Cassie murmured.

As she rose, Grey said, “I’ll go with you. I haven’t seen him yet this morning.”

Cassie headed for the steps, grateful for Grey’s company. As they climbed the wide steps side by side, he said, “You look very lovely in this gold habit.”

“Lady Kiri’s sister has enough red in her hair that we can wear similar colors,” Cassie explained. Dropping her voice, she asked, “How should I act with your father?”

He gave her a warm smile. “Just be your lovely self, Catherine.”

She supposed calling her Catherine was a strong hint. They entered the master’s bedroom. For a man who had been tossing the dice with St. Peter the day before, the Earl of Costain was looking very well. He was propped up in bed by pillows and dictating instructions to his secretary.

He was also a remarkably fine-looking man, with the family good looks molded by years of authority. There was humor and intelligence in his eyes as he dismissed the secretary to concentrate on his visitors. Grey would look very like his father someday.

“Come closer to the bed,” Lord Costain ordered. “So it really is you, boy. I wondered if I was hallucinating last night.”

“Not at all, sir.” Grey took his father’s hand with heartfelt, wordless emotion. “I surprised myself with my tenacity.”

“I can’t recall all you told me last night, so I’ll hear more about what happened later.” There was a glint of moisture in the earl’s eyes as he held his son’s hand. His gaze moved to Cassie. “But now I wish to meet your future countess. You’re right, she’s pretty despite the red hair, but you didn’t tell me her name. Introduce us.”

“Sir, allow me to present Miss Catherine St. Ives.” Grey smiled at Cassie. “I’m sure you’ve deduced that this is Lord Costain, Cassie.”

Before she could respond, Costain exclaimed, “Good God, surely you must be Tom St. Ives’s daughter?”

She inhaled sharply. “You knew my father?”

“Indeed I did. We became friends at Eton, and remained so until his untimely death.” The earl shook his head. “I was there the night he met your mother. What a stunner she was. We were all madly in love with her.” He looked nostalgic for a moment before adding, “Of course, that was before I met my wife, who drove all other women from my mind.”