"So he's home?"

"If he's still alive, Jane. He's seriously afflicted, I fear."

"I need to go to Portsmouth. Please help me."

"Jane ... I must advise against it."

"But you don't understand. He was always a good father to me." Wessington looked as though he intended to argue the point. "He was!" she insisted. "Then we parted on such bitter terms. I couldn't live with myself if he passed away while we were still at terrible odds."

Against his better judgment, he sighed and agreed. "All right. If it's what you truly want, I'll see to it."

"I don't wish to cause you any trouble. If you just tell me the best way to go about it, I can make the arrangements myself."

"I'll not have you running off across the country by yourself." There was more to it than that, he realized. He wanted to travel with her, just as he wanted to be with her in Portsmouth to protect her from whatever might happen at the hands of her family. Where the sudden protective instinct came from he couldn't say, but it was therea"a vivid, tangible emotion he couldn't shake. He had to go with her.

"I'm sorry to say that time may be of the essence," he said.

"It's that serious, is it?"

"Yes, I think you should prepare yourself for the worst."

"Thank you for being so frank with me. I feel it simplifies matters."

"Yes, I'm finding the same thing." He smiled, extremely pleased to see her smile in return. "We could take the coach, but it would add many days to our trip. If we rode together, we could make good time. What do you think of such an extended journey on horseback?" "I want to get there as quickly as possible." "Then horseback it is." He stood her on her feet. "We'd best get busy. We'll leave first thing in the morning. There's much to do before we depart."

Chapter Twenty.

Richard saw Jane leave the library in a distressed state. His heart pounded as he considered all the ghastly things Phillip might have said or done to her. The problems between Phillip and himself ran deep, the matters complicated and impossible to fix, but he'd not hide in the shadows while his old friend di injury to Jane.

With anger fueling his limping gait, he hastened to the library door and entered without knocking, allowing himself his first chance in over a decade to assess his friend. Phillip was turned in his chair, sipping a glass< if wine and staring out the window onto the gardens. The worried wrinkle on his brow, the sad turn of the lines around his mouth, all gave testament to the way time had marked the passing of the years. With his pensive gaze, his depressed countenance, Phillip looked utterly alone.

"What di you do to Lady Jane?" Richard asked, more softly and gently than he'd intended.

Phillip was astounded at how familiar the voice sounded, even after all the years of never hearing it. He sat completely still, momentarily letting it tickle old memories of childhood. The only truly happy times of his life had been spent in Richard's company. Because of what had happened with Anne, Phillip had blocked out all thoughts of him, so that when he looked back on his days as a boy, he had no fond recollections.

"Ah, the ugly snake finally rears its head." Phillip turned in his chair. "What are you doing here, Farrow? I thought I'd ordered you gone."

"I never left."

"So I heard. Whatever gave you the audacity to think you could remain after I forbade it?"

Richard hated to shatter another of Phillip's illusions, but it was long past time he learned the truth. "Your father asked me to stay."

Phillip barely managed to swallow his mouthful of wine. Would his own father have betrayed him so completely? Had no one ever cared a whit for him? Not even his own father? "That's a bloody lie. He knew how much I hated you."

"Believe what you will." Richard shrugged. "My own father died shortly after you left. The Earl went through several agents in a handful of years. No one knew the properties as well as I, so he finally offered me the job. I accepted."

"Have you no shame? To stay here, to worm your way into the affections of my family? To show your face to me?"

Richard knew he should let Phillip vent his anger, but he had bigger fish to fry at the moment. "I saw Jane in the hall. She looked very distressed, and I want to know what you said."

With a deadly look in his eye, Phillip assessed him. "Isn't it interesting, Farrow, how you always seem to take such a keen interest in my wives?"

"Don't forget your daughter, also. I care for Jane and Emily, and I won't have you hurting either one of them."

"I must say, you're quite bold for a man I'd just as soon kill as look at. Take some advice and hold your tongue."

"You'd kill me?"

"Without hesitation."

"If you couldn't kill me years ago, why should I fear you'd do it now?" The question hung in the air. Both recalled how Phillip had aimed the pistol at Richard's heart. Unable to fire, but unable to walk away without exacting some vengeance, he'd lowered the barrel and shot Richard in the leg. The surgeon's knife had saved Richard's life but not his limb. Ever since the day he'd awakened, crippled and maimed, he'd always felt half a man. Had never courted or married. Would never allow himself the joy of a family.

"I'd have preferred death to the life you left me," he said.

"And what of the life you left me?" The emotional question surprised them both. Although everyone knew how much Phillip had been irrevocably changed after the incident, he'd never given voice to the irreparable anguish his dear friend had caused.

"I never said I was sorry. So I'm saying it now."

"A pitiful utterance. Unwelcome and very, very much too late."

"Phillip, I was a boy. I had no sense that what I was doing with her was wrong."

"Youa"werea"mya"friend." Anger glistening in his eyes, Phillip rose from the chair. He gulped down the dark red liquid, then set the glass on the desk. The stem broke with a loud crack and the ruined goblet fell to its side.

So many questions were poised on the tip of his tongue, questions which had tortured him for years, but his pride kept him from finding the relief he sought by asking any of them. He waved Farrow away, dismissing him with a gesture of his hand. "You're truly a piece of work, Farrow. I don't believe I've ever encountered a more nervy, cheeky bastard. Be gone. I can no longer bear the sight of you."

Through all the years, Richard had hoped for a reconciliation with Phillip. In his mind, he'd played it out a thousand times, imagining what he would say and how it would go. Now that the time was here, he couldn't find the proper words of remorse to pierce Phillip's hardened heart. He shrugged, defeated. "Cry peace, Phillip. She was not worth it."

Although Phillip had believed the same for many years, he'd not admit it to the likes of Farrow. "Since she was my wife, I'd say I should be the judge of whether she was or not."

"Of course, you're right." Richard made one last attempt before stepping from the room. "I've missed you these long years. I've missed having you as my friend."

Phillip had missed Richard, also. Every season, every year. With a sudden surge of memory, a cascade of events tumbled through his head. The two of them running off to the river and thving in the creek on a hot summer day. Sitting in the hayloft, telling stories about the vicious pirates they would be when they grew up. The urge to round the desk and hug him was overwhelming and frightening.

Instead, to keep from acting like a fool, he simply said, "My wife tells me you have done a good job with the estate."

Bowing slightly, Richard accepted the compliment. "It has been hard."

"I thank you for seeing to it."

Richard breathed a sigh of relief. They spoke like two strangers, but at least they were speaking. "It has been my pleasure."

"My wife's father has taken ill. We'll be leaving tomorrow for a visit to Portsmouth."

"How long will you be gone?"

"I cannot say. I'm not sure the gentleman is still alive." Acting calm and in control, he sat back in his seat, although his insides were in the greatest turmoil. "You will see to things while we're away." He made the statement, but nearly grimaced at how much it sounded like a request.

"Certainly. Lady Jane has begun many projects. I would not let any of them suffer in her absence."

"Good." Phillip picked up some papers, indicating the discussion was over. "Send Graves to see me."

Richard closed the door quietly, and Phillip sat very still, hearing the man's peg leg thump with each step as he made his way down the hall. His face felt flushed, hot, and he wished he had a cool cloth to lay on it before Graves made his appearance. Over the years, he had mastered well the looks and attitude necessary to his position. Who would ever have imagined that they would be so hard to summon to the fore when they were truly needed?

A short time later, Graves knocked and had the audacity to walk in with his head held high, showing no signs of remorse. Phillip eyed him silently, scrutinizing his demeanor and dress, hoping to push him into displaying a chink in his flawless deportment. Unfortunately, the bastard refused to be cowed. He looked Phillip directly in the eye, his shoulders back, his figure stiff and straight. Once it became obvious that his assessment wasn't accomplishing anything, Phillip broke the silence. "Well, you bloody bastard, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Will you be staying for the wedding?"

Phillip snorted. "I ought to turn you out without a character."

"But you won't, sir." Graves smiled and shrugged. "You're glad I'm here."

"If you'd just told me how badly you wanted to come, I'd have let you."

"I did tell you, sir. Six times. You wouldn't listen."

Phillip motioned him to a chair, and he sat.

"Love is a fleeting emotion, John. I hope you know what you're doing."

"It must be horrible to be so cynical." Graves noticed the broken glass on the desk. He moved it off to the sideboard, grabbed a new one and poured Phillip some more wine. "I hope you spend enough time around your wife to have a little of the lovebug bite you. With your surly attitude, it certainly couldn't hurt."

"I hardly need lessons on love and marriage from the likes of you." Phillip grabbed the glass Graves offered and took a swig of the sharp liquid.

"Really? Well, I just enjoyed a wonderful bit of afternoon delight with my betrodied." With a devilish wink, Graves asked, "So, how are you and Lady Jane getting along?"

"Bastard," Phillip muttered.

"What was that, sir?" Graves laughed. "I didnat quite catch it."

' 'By Christ, you're an irritating ass, but I'm glad you're here in spite of it. Jane and I are leaving for Portsmouth."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. Her father's been stricken with apoplexy. We're going for a deathbed visita"if there's still a bed to visit."

"So, it's grave, is it?"

"Extremely."

"What can I do to help?"

"See to things for her while she's away."

"Certainly. Whatever you need, I'll do."

"I'm counting on you."

"Of course. Do you think you'll be back for the harvest?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering if we should postpone the wedding. Meg had hoped that Jane would be her matron of honor." He flashed Wessington his crooked smile. "And I had hoped you'd stand up with me."

"Me?"

"Of course, unless you think it would be too far below your station?"

Phillip had never been asked to stand up for anyone. Had never been close enough for anyone to ask. He was flattered and embarrassed to find himself so. He had to clear his throat before he could respond. "I would be honored. You must postpone it until we return."

"I don't want you to go." Emily stood by the window of Jane's bedchamber, staring out across the grounds to the fields and hills beyond.

Behind her, Jane was buckling the hasp on the portmanteau she would tie onto her saddle. Wessington had sent other bags in a small, quick carriage, but they wouldn't meet up with the driver until Portsmouth, so Jane had packed a useful amount for the trip. "We've been through this, Emily. You know I must."

"But what if something happens to you?"

"Nothing will. I'll be with your father. He'll take good care of me."

"Couldn't I come with you?"

"You know you need to get back to your lessons, and I don't know how long I'll be away. It's for the best if you remain behind."

Emily turned from the window and stared at Jane. She loved her now, fiercely and passionately, and could hardly remember the times before Jane had arrived. To think of her leaving so soon was frightening and hurtful. She wanted to say: what about me, but as she was so unused to giving her own needs precedence, she couldn't find a way to voice the selfish thought. "What about all your work?"

"Richard will watch over the farm. John will watch over the house. And Meg will watch over you." Jane finished with the buckles and turned to the girl. She looked so lost that Jane's heart ached. Sitting on the bed, she patted the mattress. Emily hesitated, and Jane reached out a hand until she took a few slow steps across the room and eased down. "Are you afraid about my going?"

"Yes," she whispered as though the feeling was shameful.

"Why?"

"What if Master Morris comes around?"

"He'll not be allowed."

She nodded. "What if I get hurt or sick? Who'll take care of me?"

"Meg will, sweetheart. You know she'll do a good job."

Emily finally turned and looked her in the eye. "What if you don't come back?"

"You silly girl. Whatever would make you think such a thing?" Jane knew the answer of course. Emily's fears of being left alone were justified by the fact that she nearly always had been. She rested an arm across the girl's shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. "I promise I'll come back for you."