Page 9 of Dared By a Lyon
Oh, God, how he wished he had taught her to swim. Maybe there would have been a different outcome. But he knew better. His Juliet had been trapped in the carriage by a strong current, and according to witnesses, the carriage was sinking fast. No one had survived except his little niece, Caro, who was small enough for her mother to hand through the window to a footman outside the carriage. The footman had been a strong swimmer and got her to safety.
His mother stepped into the study. “Darling, it’s a storm, and it will end soon,” she said softly. “Try to take a deep breath. I just checked on Caro, and she’s tucked in her bed, fast asleep. She’s so like your sister, who could sleep through anything.” She turned to leave but then seemed to change her mind and walked up to his desk. “Alcohol won’t change what happened. You know that. Please don’t return to heavy drinking.”
“I’m not a child, Mother,” he grumbled. “It may not change things, but it dulls the pain.”
“I know, darling, and I understand. But you’re not the only one who remembers,” she said softly, offering him a faint smile of understanding.
Blast!His mother was right, and he owed her an apology, he thought, setting down his brandy. He’d never been prone to nightmares, not even as a child—but for the past three years, as the anniversary of that horrible night approached, the same dream always returned to haunt him. It was the pain of guilt that undid him.
The guilt that he drank to forget.
The guilt that haunted him. Would it have made a difference if he’d been there with them? They would have taken two carriages with the footmen, their luggage following in a third conveyance. Perhaps that would have changed everything…
But you couldn’t turn back the clock. And guilt was stronger than reason. Tonight’s storm was an additional boogeyman. When he thought about it like that, it seemed reasonable to use alcohol to chase away the darkness. Except that he knew otherwise. He had been forever changed three years ago. It had left a mark on him…on his soul.
He saw the look of sadness and love his mother gave him—and it only added to his pain.
He knew with certainty that he’d have the nightmare tonight. It always began with either Juliet or Olivia floating in the river, desperately treading water, arms flailing, as she was carried downstream. Regardless of which one, she’d cry out for help, but no matter how fast and furiously he swam, he could never reach them in time.
And another horror would appear—his late brother-in-law, a man he had loved like a blood brother. Perhaps because he’d always wondered how Max had died, unable to save at least one of them. Max stood a head taller than most men and, to Gabriel’s estimation, was very strong. But always, as if in answer, Max floated by with blood gushing from his head, his eyes closed, and his arms extended—arms that were always empty. Had Max been hit by a warming brick or something in the carriage and knocked unconscious?
As always, there were no answers.
Thank God they’d managed to save Caro just in time before the current dragged the carriage under. It must have been terrifying for them. His little sister had always been brave, but for her to hand her daughter through the window of a carriage,knowing she might never see her again, had to be the greatest act of courage Gabriel had ever known.
“At least Caro isn’t having those nightmares anymore,” his mother said softly, wiping a tear from her cheek. Olivia had inherited her strength from their mother. And it was rare that Gabriel saw her cry. After the tragedy, he knew his mother would sob in the privacy of her bedchamber in the middle of the night. He could see the proof in her red and swollen eyes the next morning.
Gabriel got up from his desk and walked over to his mother. He hugged her and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. True, Caro was no longer plagued nightly by nightmares, but his niece hadn’t uttered one word since that night. “I’m glad Caro is sleeping peacefully,” he said.
“Higgins said you just arrived from London an hour or so ago.” While she did not ask directly, her tone was questioning.
“Yes. The timing couldn’t be helped,” he said, responding more sharply than he intended. He hadn’t wanted to leave them, given the anniversary was approaching, but he had done it for Caro’s sake.
“I am not reprimanding you, Gabriel,” his mother said.
For the past three days, Gabriel had been in London, meeting with his family’s solicitors regarding his niece’s financial future and overseeing various investments that his brother-in-law had established when Caro was born. Gabriel had grown the investments and added more funds to them. Max’s last will had declared that all his estate’s unentailed property and investments be moved into one account under the direction of Gabriel, who had been named Caro’s guardian and as executor of the estate. He was determined to make certain the estate of his late sister and brother-in-law grew substantially for his sweet Caro.
His mother studied him for a long moment before nodding. “You understand my concern, son. I can’t lose both of my children.”
He had given her enough reasons not to trust him, and he knew it. Still, it rankled. Yes, he also spent time at the Lyon’s Den—but lately, it was mostly engaging in a few card games with friends and associates. Gabriel had never been so unwise as to gamble away his family’s legacy. He was nothing like his uncle. But he knew his mother feared he would suddenly turn into the man who had caused the misery and suffering of his mother’s dear sister. That rankled most of all.
He hated his uncle. The man was a degenerate.
Gabriel did carry his own guilt for drinking heavily after the accident. But after that first year, he’d stopped drinking himself into a stupor every night. In fact, he rarely drank anymore except around the anniversary. But rather than explaining himself, he asked, “Did you read my missive? We have been invited to a house party sponsored by Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon.”
“I’m afraid you will have to attend alone. Caro needs me here,” she said. She turned to leave but then said, “I wish you’d stay with Caro and me, here.” Her voice had a thread of frustration. “Son, it was a horrible and tragic accident. But it wasn’t your fault.”
“It wasn’t? For the past three years, I have been haunted by their deaths… If I had been there…” He shook his head.
“Son, you can’t know if your presence in that carriage would have saved your sister and Max. Or Juliet. It was a horrible accident. But it wasn’t your fault,” she said. “There were several men there, including a doctor, and they couldn’t save them.”
He nodded—logically, he knew that, but it was hard to reconcile his mind with his heart. He blew out a breath. “I realize that you think I spend all my time at the Lyon’s Den when I’m in London. Maybe that was true the first year. I drank and gambledmore than I should have. However, I’ve changed that. I did visit the Lyon’s Den on this trip to London, but not to drink. While there, I met with our solicitors on Caro’s behalf. I also met with a group of investors and went with them to the Lyon’s Den, mostly to find out as much as I could about some unique investment opportunities. I am serious about making certain Max’s estate grows as much as it can for Caro. As her uncle and guardian, I do this because I love her and want to protect her.”
“I understand,” the countess said softly.
The heavy brass knocker sounded at the front door and echoed upstairs to the study. Gabriel and his mother were silent for a moment as they exchanged a look.
“It’s very late,” he said, checking his pocket watch. “Who could be out at this late hour? Are you expecting someone, Mother?”
