A Grave Inheritance Page 8

  He listened intently to the Gaelic words until it was his turn to speak. “Riar na n-oiged, Oibel ecnai, Ingen Dubthaig, Duine uallach, Brigid buadach, Brigid buadach,” he said, reciting the remaining words.

  Support of strangers, Spark of wisdom, Daughter of Dubthach, High-minded lady, Brigid Victorious, Brigid Victorious.

  The last of my doubts fell away and a flush of happiness warmed my cheeks. “How did you know I’m goddess born?”

  “Since Lord Fitzalan returned from the Colonies, London has been rampant with rumors of a Miss Selah Kilbrid. Your surname alone told me that we at least shared a common ancestor. What I didn’t know until this morning was whether or not you were aware of your own lineage. Many of Brigid’s descendants still bear her name in some form, but have long forgotten their true identity. That is why I spoke of her mantle. Your response told me everything else I needed to know.”

  “But your name is Stroud. I thought only the Kilbrid and McBres clans still carried her blood.”

  “Typical Irish,” he laughed, “to assume the Tuatha Dé never found reason to venture from Ireland while they lived in the mortal world. My full name is Julian Brideaux Stroud. My mother was from France and as full of Brigid’s blood as any of your ancestors. She was a renowned healer during her lifetime.” His smile faltered as he took on a more serious expression. “Except for a brief period when she was a young woman.”

  “Why did she stop?”

  “Because she married the wrong man. My father was a great Lord in southern England and deemed it below his dignity to have a wife who labored amongst the sick and wounded. He begrudged the time she spent foraging the woods for herbs and even tried to bar her from entering the Otherworld. She eventually grew so weak that he had to let her return or watch her die.”

  I pulled in a quick breath, my eyes wide with shock. “Didn’t he know what she was, that she had no choice?”

  His face turned dark. “Oh, he knew alright, and promised on his very soul to love her regardless of their differences. He may have even believed it at first, enticed by her beauty and...” He paused for a split second as his dark look turned to embarrassment. “And the particular pleasure our kind are known to give to those we love.”

  The blood rushed to my face. From my own limited experience with Henry, I had a general idea what he meant.

  “They were married two years,” he continued, “before her gift proved too much and he sent her back to France. She was newly pregnant at the time and decided to keep it secret, thinking he would leave her in peace if no child were involved. Her plan worked—at first, anyway, while my father petitioned the Catholic Church for a divorce. He had hoped to remarry for the sake of an heir, but the Pope refused every request. I was twelve years old when he discovered my existence and sent men to claim me. Apparently, his dislike for our kind was overcome by his fear of dying without a legitimate heir. The day his men took me was the last time I saw my mother alive. She grew ill and died a month after my thirteenth birthday.”

  I stared at him, my heart breaking from the sad tale. “Your struggles have been great, my lord. Yet you remained true while in your father’s care.”

  Lord Stroud nodded. “He hoped news of my mother’s death would curb any inclination to follow a similar path. But she had taught me well in those twelve years. Under her direction, I learned to revere Brigid and to keep my power well hidden. When the men came for me, she begged one last embrace in which she relayed the location of the altar Brigid had opened on my father’s estate after they were married.”

  My pulse leapt at the mention of an altar. “Did he allow you to use it?” Would I be allowed to use it?

  A devious smile crept over the man’s mouth. “Cunning and stealth happen to be two of my best skills. Once I arrived in England, my father watched me like a hawk, but when I showed no sign of my mother’s gift he soon relaxed. Of course, I only ever crossed over while he was away from the estate, which happened to be often.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t just have it destroyed.”

  A derisive snort cut through his lordship’s nose. “Even my father wasn’t so brazen to knowingly desecrate a site prepared by a goddess of the Tuatha Dé.”

  “You are indeed fortunate, my lord. Superstition rarely runs in our favor.”

  “As I well know after living under the worst of humans.” His smile returned. “My liberation came this past spring when my father finally died, leaving me full heir to his fortune.” He reached over and took one of my hands in between his own. “And please, call me Julian, at least while we are in private. We are near enough to family, are we not?”

  “I suppose we are,” I laughed, “though a rather pathetic family, since we both appear to be orphans.”

  Julian’s expression turned a shade shy. “Would you mind if I called you Selah? Or do you prefer a different name?”

  “That’s all I’ve ever been called, other than Miss Kilbrid.” A small memory poked its way forward. “Well, except when my older brother, Sean, was still alive. He preferred Sabie as a nickname for Selah Elizabeth.” My face tightened from the unexpected confession. Sabie. For the past three years that name had remained tucked away. “But that was a long time ago,” I murmured.

  Embarrassed, I dropped my eyes to my lap and my hand resting in between his. He wore a gold signet ring on his fourth finger, with a sunken seal of a lion imposed over the letter S. The beast leaned back on his hind feet, forefeet in the air, and its tail raised. A small piece of red wax clung to its ear.

  Julian pressed my hand, and his warmth infused my skin. “I’d not dare impose in a brother’s place.”

  I lifted my gaze and looked at him in earnest. “A cousin then, and I insist you call me Selah.”

  He chuckled. “A cousin will do fine.”

  Just then, the most exciting idea popped into my head. “London is only half a week’s journey from Ireland. There must be loads of our kind living in the city.”

  “In the months I’ve been here, I’ve discovered two score who share a similar surname. Of those, none are aware of their true lineage.”

  I frowned at the news. “Please tell me there’s an altar in London at least.”

  “At present, I know of only one in all of England, and that’s on my father’s estate. But in addition to my search for descendants, I have been working in earnest to locate other passageways. So far, most of my leads have come to naught, though there is one that shows promise. If the legends hold true, it was opened for the first leath’dhia to leave Ireland, a young woman known as Caitria Ni Brid.”

  “Caitria, daughter of Brigid,” I said, translating the Gaelic surname. “I’ve never heard of her before.”

  “It’s an ancient name, so for all I know the altar may have been destroyed ages ago.” He looked at me for a moment. “Selah, how long has it been since you’ve been to the Otherworld?”

  “Eighty-seven days,” I answered without hesitation. “I tried to conserve my power during the voyage, but the storms were relentless and sailors kept getting hurt. It was my duty to help them...” My words trailed off as I considered the odd prickling sensation while healing Henry’s hand.

  “Yes?” he prodded.

  “Did your mother really almost die when she was barred from the Otherworld?”

  “She told me herself what happened while I still lived in France. Healing was in her nature and keeping her away was akin to taking away the very nourishment she needed to survive. Once she depleted her power from the Otherworld, she had to draw power from her own life in order to continue healing. She knew it was slowly killing her, but she refused to turn anyone away no matter the danger.”

  Understanding came quickly, as did a tight knot in the middle of my chest. “Brigid warned me of the same thing during our last visit. Until now though, I had no specifics other than death would occur o
ver time, depending on the circumstances.”

  We fell silent for a moment, and I wondered just how long it would be before I drew upon my own life to help another—if I hadn’t done so already.

  I sighed. “Our first mother can be frustratingly vague at times.”

  Julian responded with a mirthless laugh. “And sparse. I’ve not seen her for almost a year, otherwise I would have just asked about Caitria’s altar instead of searching every nook and cranny in London for it.” He pressed my hand again. “Selah, I promise to devote my time in finding the location of this newest lead. But if it proves a dead end like the others, you must consent to come with me to my estate and enter the Otherworld from there.”

  “Oh, yes,” I said, nodding eagerly. “I would like that very much, and I’m sure Henry would be more than happy to accompany us.”

  A shadow crossed Julian’s face. “Does Henry know what you are?”

  “Of course,” I said. “He knows everything.”

  Julian studied me for a moment. “From my father I learned that even men of honor can go back on their word. Though you have chosen to trust Henry, I must ask that you not tell him about me.”

  “But Julian—”

  “I insist that you respect my wishes.” He paused as though searching for the right words. “And I would prefer that he does not join you at my estate. It will be too difficult to keep my identity secret with us running off together into the woods. Can you do this for me?”

  I hesitated, knowing that Henry would never stay put in London while I went off to another man’s estate. Unless I lied about my destination, and even then I doubted he would willingly stay behind.

  “Please, Selah,” Julian said, his eyes pleading with me.

  Against my better judgment, I nodded again and felt Julian’s hands tighten around my own. “Then it is all settled.”

  The French doors swung open, and I glanced over just as Nora came into the drawing room, followed by Henry and James. “You won’t believe who I found on the front step,” she started, then seeing Julian seated next to me still holding my hand, she came to a sudden stop. “Oh, my...”

  James looked from me to Julian. “Should we come back at another time?” he asked, obviously delighted by the awkwardness of the situation.

  I pulled my hand away and stood up.

  Henry stepped around Nora and walked to my side, where he placed a protective hand on my shoulder. “Good day, Lord Stroud,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t expect to find you here this morning. Do you have business with Miss Kilbrid?”

  “Nothing too serious,” Julian said. “I wished to make her acquaintance before she was flooded with callers.” He reached down and took my hand, pressing a soft kiss against the back of it as he bowed. “Good day, Selah. I hope we shall meet again soon.” He then nodded to Henry and left the room.

  At the sound of the front door closing, I turned to face Henry. He was staring at me, a deep frown etched on his face. James and Nora remained a safe distance away near the doors.

  “I didn’t know that you and Lord Stroud were such intimate friends,” James said, with just the right amount of scandalized delight to imply all sorts of illicit activities.

  I wanted to throttle the man, to knock the smug expression from his face before beating him to a bloody pulp. Luckily, there was more than one way to skin a cat, or to stop James from turning a bad situation worse. Leaning into Henry, I rose up onto my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You are the most wonderful man in the world,” I said in a soft voice so only he could hear. “Thank you for the gowns. I shall consider them an early wedding present.”

  Henry raised one eyebrow, diminishing the severity of his frown. “And I shall speak to Cate about giving my secret away.”

  “You mustn’t be angry with her. My gowns were in terrible condition from traveling and she really didn’t have another choice.” I gave him a coy smile. “She assured me that all the fashionable ladies wear their bodices so low and that it wasn’t just your personal preference.”

  The frown disappeared entirely and his arms went around my waist. “Then perhaps I should thank her,” he said, gazing down at me. “You look more beautiful in that color than I imagined. It’s no wonder Lord Stroud was devouring you with his eyes when I came into the room. Poor man must know he doesn’t stand a chance.”

  I wanted desperately to explain about Julian and the reason he had been holding my hand a moment before. But my promise took precedence, so I settled for batting my eyes. “Lugh himself doesn’t stand a chance against you, my lord.”

  “Isn’t he a Celtic sun god?”

  “Yes, and a god of battle if the stories are true.”

  “In that case, I’ve no cause to be jealous of a mere mortal.” He bent his head down to kiss me, allowing his mouth to linger long enough to make my heart race.

  Nora cleared her throat. “Maybe we do need to come back at another time,” she said pointedly. “Or send for the clergy.”

  Henry pulled back till only our foreheads touched. “No need,” he laughed, “we shall behave ourselves.”

  “Good, because I’ve something to show you before my mother comes back downstairs.” She walked over and handed me a pamphlet. “I picked it up this morning while we were out.”

  I looked at the cover. “A Collection of Dissenter Sermons on Morality. Surely your mother wouldn’t disapprove.”

  Nora rolled her eyes. “That was just a necessary guise. You need to look inside.”

  I did as she bid and found a playbill tucked in between the pages. “The Beggar’s Opera,” I read aloud.

  Nora’s face glowed with excitement. “It’s playing at Drury Lane through the end of the week. What do you think? Shall we all go this evening?”

  “The production is tolerable,” Henry said, his voice somewhat stiff. “I would recommend Tom Thumb instead. It’s at the Haymarket and has a far superior cast in my opinion.”

  Nora turned to James. “Which do you prefer?”

  “I am partial to The Beggar’s Opera,” he admitted. “The humor can be ribald at times, though nothing so much to cause offense.” He glanced at Henry. “And the actress who plays Polly Peachum is a rare specimen, don’t you agree, my lord?”

  Henry’s arm tensed on my waist. “If you say so, James.”

  Intrigued by his reaction, I opened the playbill to the cast list and soon felt the blood drain from my face. Justine Rose was playing the part of Polly Peachum. Well, I for one had no intention of watching Henry’s alleged mistress prance about on stage this evening. Nor any other evening if I could help it.

  Henry cleared his throat. “Neither James nor I are free tonight as we are obligated to dine with my father.”

  James gave Nora a gentle look. “I would gladly cancel, but I fear the duke is not the most understanding of men.” He grinned at Henry. “The rest of the week remains clear though, my lord. How about tomorrow evening?”

  “Sorry,” Henry said, a dark shadow crossing his face. “You have forgotten that I attend the men’s club every Friday.”

  Nora’s eyes sparked with determination. “Then we shall go on Saturday,” she said stubbornly. “That gives you three days to clear any other engagements.”

  Henry furrowed his brow in thought, as though desperately seeking another excuse.

  “I’m afraid we shan’t be going to this play,” I said, keeping my gaze fixed on Nora. “Your mother will never allow it, and we’ve not enough time to create a cover. Why don’t we wait and see what is playing in a few weeks. By then we should be able to devise a credible excuse to go out unattended one night.”

  “I am determined to see this show,” Nora said. “After I discovered the playbill, I told my mother that I had the beginnings of a headache and needed a remedy from the apothecary.” She withdrew a small bottle
from the folds of her gown and handed it to me.

  Removing the cork top, I immediately smelled laudanum. “We are not drugging your mother,” I said, handing it back.

  Nora smiled like a fiend. “Oh, yes we are, and she will be sleeping like a babe long before the orchestra strikes the first note.”

  James laughed. “You are a wicked young lady,” he said, looking at Nora with blatant admiration. “What say you Henry? Shall we aid and abet this aspiring criminal?”

  I remained silent, expecting Henry to squash the scheme at once.

  He sighed in defeat. “So be it.”

  Chapter Six

  A Pox to Thee

  True to her word, Nora laced her mother’s tea with several drops of laudanum and enough milk and sugar to disguise the taste. By six sharp Lucy Goodwin was softly snoring in bed when Henry’s carriage arrived. Just outside the front door, a footman was busy lighting the oil lamps, not giving us a second glance as we rushed down the stone steps to meet the men. Another footman opened the carriage door, and we scrambled inside amidst a swish of crisp silk skirts. Even Nora wore silk tonight, choosing her best dove gray gown in place of the usual plain wool.

  “The theater is not far,” James said once we were settled. “A ten minute ride at most. Did you speak to the maid as we discussed?”

  “It’s all taken care of,” Nora said. “Beth has instructions to send word at once if my mother wakes before we return.”

  “And what will you tell her if your absence is discovered?” James asked.

  “The truth, of course,” Nora laughed, “that we went out walking in search of a Quaker meeting house.”

  With the door closed, James and Nora became dark silhouettes on the opposite bench. They chatted between themselves, their amiable voices offering a sharp contrast to the palpable tension coming from Henry. He stirred beside me, taking my hand as he leaned over to whisper in my ear.

  “How is your arm tonight?”

  “About the same,” I lied, rather than confess the appearance of several small blisters this afternoon.