Yours Until Dawn Read Free

trembling. Thankful for the refuge the shadows provided, she said, “Well, the earl is not quite the gentle invalid you described in your advertisement.”
    “He hasn’t been himself since he returned from that wretched battle. If you only could have known the dear lad before…” Mrs. Philpot swallowed, her gray eyes glistening with tears.
    Beckwith handed her his handkerchief. “Lavinia is right. He was a gentleman cut from the finest cloth, a true prince among men. Sometimes I fear the blow that blinded him may have addled his mind as well.”
    “Or at least his manners,” Samantha noted dryly. “His wit doesn’t seem to have suffered unduly.”
    The housekeeper dabbed at her narrow nose. “He was always such a bright boy. Ever so quick with a quip or a sum. I rarely saw him without a book tucked under his arm. When he was small, I used to have to take his candle away at bedtime for fear he would sneak a book into his bed and set his blankets afire.”
    Samantha was shaken to realize he had been deprived of even that pleasure. It was difficult to imagine a life without the solace books could provide.
    Beckwith nodded fondly, his eyes glazed with memories of better times. “He was always his parents’ pride and joy. When he took that absurd notion to join the Royal Navy, his mama and his sisters went into hysterics and begged him not to go, and his papa, the marquess, threatened to disown him. But when it came time for him to sail, they all gathered at the dock to shout their blessings and wave their handkerchiefs at him.”
    Samantha plucked at the back of her gloves. “It’s rather uncommon for a nobleman, especially a firstborn son, to seek a naval career, is it not? I thought the Army attracted the wealthy and the titled, while the Royal Navy was the refuge of the poor and the ambitious.”
    “He would never explain his choice,” Mrs. Philpot interjected. “He just said he had to follow his heart wherever it would lead him. He refused to buy his way up the ranks as most men did, but insisted on arriving there on his own merits. When they received word that he had been promoted to lieutenant aboard the HMS Victory , his mama wept tears of joy and his papa was so proud he nearly busted the buttons right off his waistcoat.”
    “The Victory ,” Samantha murmured. The ship’s name had proved to be prophetic. With the help of her sister ships, she had routed Napoleon’s navy at Trafalgar, destroying the emperor’s dream of ruling the seas. But the cost of victory had been high. Admiral Nelson had won the battle, but lost his life, as had many of the young men who had fought so valiantly at his side.
    Their debts were paid in full, but Gabriel Fairchild would go on paying for the rest of his life.
    She felt a surge of anger. “If his family is so devoted to him, where are they now?”
    “Traveling abroad.”
    “Staying at their London residence.”
    The servants blurted out their answers in unison, then exchanged a sheepish glance. Mrs. Philpot sighed. “The earl spent most of his youth at Fairchild Park. Of all his father’s properties, it was always his favorite. He has his own town house in London, of course, but given the cruel nature of his injuries, his family thought it might be easier for him to recuperate at his childhood home, away from society’s prying eyes.”
    “Easier for who? For him? Or for them?”
    Beckwith averted his eyes. “In their defense, the last time they came calling, he all but chased them off the estate. For a minute there, I feared he was actually going to order the groundskeeper to set the hounds on them.”
    “I doubt they were that difficult to discourage.” Samantha closed her eyes briefly, struggling to regain her composure. It wasn’t as if she had any right to judge his family for their lack of loyalty. “It’s been well over five months since he was injured. Has his physician offered any hope that his sight might someday be restored?”
    The butler shook