The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2)

to bedrest for several weeks while he recovered. During that period, I determined it was time to have it out with my stepmother.”
“That was a daring decision.”
“I had to, Adalyn. If I didn’t stop her, the estate would be ruined.” He took a breath. “So I went to the house, a place I’d not been in years. I told their butler, a man I’d never met, that I wished to see Mrs Fitzroy. She walked down the stairs, her nose in the air and demanded to know how I dared to disturb the family. The family, she called it, as if I wasn’t one of them.”
“Oh Daniel,” said Adalyn, her eyes stinging with tears for him.
“We argued, of course. I presented her with the evidence of her embezzlement. I called it that, right to her face. She screamed at me and grabbed a walking stick, pushing me backward toward the door, beating me with it as I tried to defend myself.”
“Dear God.”
“I ended up outside the house at the top of the marble staircase. It’s a tall one, there are many steps, since the foyer is actually above the ground floor.”
“I understand. Not a good place to fight off a woman with a walking cane who wants to hurt you.”
“So true, love. So true. I swear I did not lay a hand on her, Adalyn. All I did was hold up my arm in an attempt to ward off her blows.” He stopped.
“Tell me, love. Tell me what happened?”
“She lost her balance. Slipped on the damp marble. She fell, Adalyn. She fell from top to bottom of those stairs and she screamed all the way down.” He all but sobbed. “I still hear that sound in my nightmares.”
Adalyn moved then, putting her arms around him and holding him close. “Finish the tale, Daniel? Please?”
He nodded. “She landed in a heap, broken, bleeding. My father finally appeared, drunk as could be, looked at her and then looked at me. ‘Killed another one, have you?’ he said. Those were his exact words.”
Adalyn was speechless.
“She was not dead, though, and the butler—who was bright enough to keep his wits about him, sent for the physician. She had a broken arm, but the worst damage was to her head. She suffered some kind of terrible injury to her brain.”
Adalyn squeezed her eyes closed against the visions battering her eyelids.
“She has lain semi-conscious ever since, slurring a few words now and again, but unable to care for herself. Once that information was revealed to my father—that she’d never be a wife to him again—he threw me out of his house forever. Banned me from Nordean. Renounced me, declaring he had no son.”
“And you left?” she asked gently.
“Yes. I walked away and I never saw him again.”
“Will you go back, do you think? Try to make amends with him?”
He was silent for a few long moments. “He died last month.”
“Daniel, oh God, Daniel.” She was over him, holding him, kissing him as he said those final words.
“I have you, Adalyn. You are my life now. That past, those people…sometimes it’s as if it was a nightmare from which I have now awoken.” He kissed her back. “But I wanted you to know the worst of it, since it has changed my situation.”
She released him, and lay back down beside him, her mind whirring. “You are now the owner of Nordean.”
“Yes.”
“Mr Dawson?”
“Once a year we exchanged brief notes, never telling a soul. He is the one who told me that my father had passed away.”
“What shall you do now, love?” Adalyn asked. “What lies ahead and how can I help?”
“I’m not sure of the first, but for the second? Just love me, Adalyn.”
“I already do, Daniel. More than you’ll ever know.”
*~~*~~*
The late autumn sun hadn’t made much of an appearance over Kilham Abbey, a sturdy, unimaginative assemblage of bricks and mortar, and what little sun there was didn’t improve the facade. It was sometimes regarded as the district’s eyesore, even though the property itself was the source of income for more than a few of the surrounding villages and farms.
The former Earl of Kilham had tried his best to add a touch or two of whimsical interest, but on the whole, his efforts had gone unnoticed. After his first wife died, leaving him with a young son, the Earl’s focus was on raising—and spoiling—his child, not maintaining the Abbey.
The Dower House, situated at least ten miles from the Abbey itself, had been completely neglected once the late Earl’s mama passed away. A small allowance was budgeted for its sole occupant, a Mrs Ashe, whose chequered life had included a period of residence at Kilham as mistress to the late Earl. Other than her, the house had lain dormant, untended and showing signs of rotting away.
Until this day.
A small cart pulled up to the front door and the driver jumped from the seat to rap smartly on the peeling door, his greatcoat and hat marking him as a person of some importance.
“Open up,” he shouted, rapping again with the end of his whip.
At last it creaked open and a woman’s face appeared. “’Ooo are yer an’ what yer want?”
“I’m the Earl of Kilham, woman, and I want you to open the damned door.”
“Yer don’t look like ‘im. Too young.”
With a breath of anger, the man glared at her. “I am the new Earl. My father has passed away, and I now own this building along with everything else at Kilham Abbey. If you want to continue to reside here, best open this door right this minute.”
Grumbling, the woman did so, and the young Earl turned back to the cart. “Well?” He shot a glance at the other occupant. “What are you waiting for? Get down and bring