integral part of who he was. She’d been important to him, vital to who he knew himself to be. The day wasn’t complete until he’d talked to Jennifer. No problem was that difficult once they’d talked it over. No anger so insurmountable once they’d spoken. She was so vital to his life that he couldn’t remember any significant event without her presence in it. When she went off to Edinburgh to be with her godmother for weeks every few months, he’d suffered for her absence.
Betty had known. All those years when she’d seen the relationship developing between him and Jennifer, she’d known the truth. All those years when she’d criticized him for drawing breath, she’d known who he really was. Her selfishness had been stronger than her decency, so she kept silent.
He hated her, more than he ever hated anyone or anything.
What did he do with his rage?
Nothing. Betty was beyond him. He couldn’t do anything to her. She’d never get justice.
He turned his attention to the brass plaque belonging to the fifth Earl of Burfield. His father had only lived a few years after the night of the nursery fire, succumbing to an accident while riding his favorite stallion.
Gordon had been five at the time and could barely remember what the man looked like. He tried to make sense of the fact that the earl had been his father, but he discovered that it didn’t matter much. Alexander Adaire was only a shadowy figure to him. He couldn’t remember much about the man, other than the fact that the countess had grieved for years after his death. No one had ever said anything bad about the earl. He’d been a good employer, a fair man, someone obviously beloved at Adaire Hall.
Two things had happened immediately following his death. Harrison had become the sixth Earl of Burfield, and Richard McBain had arrived at Adaire Hall to become his guardian.
An iron bench had been placed in the middle of the crypt. No doubt it was designed for people to spend some time in contemplation, to weep, or pray. He placed the candle beside the bench and sat. He wasn’t weeping, but perhaps his thoughts were in the way of a prayer. He had to be able to handle this, but he was very much afraid it was the one task he’d been given that was greater than his strength.
How did he endure this?
For five years he’d done everything in his power to remake himself, to become a success. He wanted to be worthy of Jennifer Adaire.
He stood, picked up the iron bench, and hurled it at the wall. When it crashed against the brick, he hauled up one end and threw it again. He wanted to destroy something, lay waste to it, create rubble. He overturned both iron candleholders, hearing them fall to the concrete floor with satisfaction, the candles rolling to rest against the crypt.
The candle sputtered out, leaving him in the darkness.
A moment later he grabbed the decorative trellis of the iron wall, his head falling between his outstretched arms.
“Why?”
God didn’t answer.
“Why did this happen? Why did You let it happen?”
God was silent.
Gordon had taken everything he’d been given in his life and managed to overcome it. The only kindness he’d ever been shown had come from the countess and Jennifer. The countess died, and Jennifer had been taken from him, but he’d come back to her.
Now God had taken her away forever.
Sean’s deathbed confession had altered the whole of his life.
He’d survived being the gardener’s son. He didn’t know if he would survive learning that Jennifer was his sister.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jennifer knocked on the door of the gardener’s cottage, but there was no answer. She waited a moment, then knocked again. When she still didn’t get a response, she looked into the open window.
She couldn’t see anyone in the main room. Sean’s door was closed, as was Gordon’s. Where was Sally? Sean was too ill to have gone anywhere. Nor did she believe that either Gordon or Sally would have left him alone.
She debated with herself for at least five minutes before putting her hand on the latch and pushing the door in slowly.
“Gordon?”
No answer.
“Sally?”
The window in the front room was wide-open, letting in the cold air.
She heard something, a noise from behind Sean’s door. She was violating his privacy as well as Gordon’s. With any luck they’d understand that it was worry that had prompted her to trespass.
She walked to Sean’s door and stood there listening.
The door wasn’t