“Yes, my contact won’t deal with anyone but me. I’m not sure how long it will take to track him down.” He strode to the door.
“Max.” Her voice wavered as she called out.
He paused but didn’t turn. There was nothing but silence from behind him. He closed his eyes briefly, then he reached for the door handle and left the room. He didn’t stop until he crossed the hall and exited out into the freezing afternoon.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Lord Rivenhall,” avoice called out from behind him.
Max stopped his descent of the front steps and turned back toward the house. Mr. Daniels stood in the open doorway.
“My lord, where are you going?”
Max’s temper crackled at the man’s imperious tone. “For a walk. I would think that was obvious.”
“What is not obvious is why you would do so without donning a coat or hat. It is freezing. I must insist you allow me to dress you properly, my lord.”
Max felt his cheeks blaze with heat. He cleared his throat. “Certainly.” As the butler disappeared inside, he returned to the top step. In a few moments, the man was back. Mr. Daniels helped Max don his greatcoat and passed him his hat and a pair of fur-lined leather gloves. Then he plunked down a pair of boots in front of him.
Max began to protest that his shoes were fine, but Mr. Daniels raised one eyebrow as if to sayI dare you. So, he toed off one shoe and stuck his foot into the boot. After donning the next one, he handed off his shoes. “Thank you, Mr. Daniels.” His lips turned up into a wry grin. “May I be excused now?”
“Have a good walk, my lord.” Mr. Daniels bowed and went back inside.
Max just shook his head and strode across the lawn. The cold air was welcome as he tried to cool his temper. Henry could rot. Max kicked at a large drift of snow, flinging up a shower of white. But his guilt ate at him. Henry’s unopened letters, the death of Henry’s father, Olivia being coerced into marriage to a man she didn’t want. And he had been halfway across the world, licking his wounds and nursing his anger. What a damn fool he’d been. He hunched his shoulders and headed to the east side of the property.
It took a good half hour to reach the memorial garden which housed the mausoleum that held all the Earls of Rivenhall. The black iron fence surrounding the area stood six feet tall, and the Rivenhall crest was affixed to the gate. Max pushed it open. He should have come to pay his respects weeks ago when he first arrived.
In front of him were two stone structures. An ancient stone building sat on the south corner covered in moss. The newer building was made from gleaming white marble designed in the Greek style, with columns standing sentry in front. Max hesitated to approach the building, his emotions still a tangle of guilt, grief, and anger. Instead, he sat on a stone bench under a large elm and stared across at Henry’s last resting place.
“Fuck, Henry, I’m sorry I stayed away. I thought you had stolen Olivia away from me. I was so angry.” Regret clogged his throat. “But I won’t stay away from her. I love her. I always have. And this is my opportunity to win her back. This is our new beginning.”
He stood and paced, the frozen grass crunching under his boots. “She has experienced so much loss, and damn you for dying on her,” he yelled into the empty garden. He turned on his heel and began to pace again. “And maybe you’re right, and I don’t deserve her, but it’s not going to stop me from loving her the way she deserves to be loved.” He paused and stared at the mausoleum. “She belongs with me, dammit!”
“I’ve always known the two of you were a pair. Even before you mustered the courage to kiss her that first time.”
Max whirled around. A figure stood on the other side of the gate. A figure that looked just like Henry. Max blinked fast, trying to clear his vision of this apparition. Henry’s ghost opened the gate and slowly moved inside the garden. He walked like a flesh-and-blood man. It looked like Henry, except the apparition sported a bushy beard and mustache that Henry never wore in real life. Max closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, Henry stood close enough to touch, so he reached out a hand and poked a finger at his chest. Solid flesh.
“Max, it’s me. I can explain.”
Explain?He could explain? Henry was alive, which meant that Olivia was not a widow. Olivia’s husband was still alive. His cousin was still alive. Which meant Max was not really Lord Rivenhall then. All his hopes for the future drained from him, along with his good sense. Max grasped the front of Henry’s shirt, pulled back his arm, and punched his cousin in the face.
Henry stumbled back, his hand pressed to his right eye. “Fuck, Max. What was that for?”
“What was that for? What was that for? Why are you alive? Do you even fathom the pain you’ve caused?” Olivia’s beautiful brown eyes filled with sadness as she explained why she didn’t want to celebrate Christmas without Henry rose sharply in his mind, and he stalked forward ready to pummel his cousin into the ground.
Henry straightened. “It was the only way to free me to be with Julien.”
Max stopped short. “So, you staged your own death?”
“Yes, the accident was staged.”
“But the body…”
“A cadaver stolen from the hospital. They threw the carriage lamp inside to set the fire and make it impossible to identify the body, except for my family ring.”
Max ran a hand down over his face as he tried to process. “A cadaver? You’re a madman.”
Henry strode forward and grasped the front of Max’s coat. “I am a madman.” His eyes were wild. “I faked my death so that I could be free to spend my life with the man I love. And then you don’t show up for a whole fucking year.”