Pursued For The Viscount's Vengeance. Sarah Mallory

lovingly at him. ‘And just where would I go? What would I live on? An income of fifty pounds a year will scarce support me.’

      ‘I could make you an allowance.’

      Her smile slipped a little, ‘How will you do that, when the estate is already mortgaged to the hilt?’

      She pressed her lips together to avoid saying anything more. For all his faults Ran loved her. She knew that. It was the knowledge of her family’s love that had helped her survive those dark days when she had given her heart to a man, only to have it trampled and broken. She had sworn then she would devote her life to her family, but with Mama and Papa both dead, there was only Randolph. He might be weak, and flawed, but he was the only man she was prepared to trust and to love. She crossed the room and dropped to her knees beside him.

      ‘I promised Mama I would look after you,’ she whispered.

      A lock of fair hair had fallen over his brow and she reached up to brush it back. He did not look up.

      ‘I am beyond redemption, Debs.’

      The hopelessness in his tone tore at her heart, but if she showed him sympathy it would only increase his self-pity.

      ‘No, no,’ she said bracingly. ‘You will come about, in time.’

      ‘Time!’ He laughed bitterly. ‘And meanwhile I must remain here, mouldering away in this dreary, forsaken little town.’

      ‘We discussed it with Dr Reedley, do you not remember, Ran? We agreed it would be best for you to live here quietly.’

      ‘No, you and Reedley agreed it, not I! You want to keep me here, a prisoner. Can we not live in the Liverpool house? At least at Duke Street I was close to all my friends!’

      It was those friends who are responsible for your present state!

      Deb closed her lips tightly to prevent the words escaping. With an oath Ran pushed himself out of his chair.

      ‘I am sick of it, do you hear me? Sick of this place, where everyone knows our business, where they all look down their noses at me.’

      ‘That is not true, Ran.’

      ‘Oh, isn’t it? Playing cards for penny points, Sir Geoffrey Gomersham wanting to show me the prize bull he has added to his estate—as if I cared about such things!’

      ‘Well, you should,’ she said sharply, her patience breaking. ‘This estate is your responsibility now and needs you to take an interest.’

      ‘Hah, what odd notions you have, Sister! Let the farmers take an interest in the land. As long as they pay their rent I do not care what goes on here!’

      She had watched him lounge away, staggering a little as he left the room. No, she thought sadly. Ran cared nothing for Kirkster or its people. Their people. He saw it only as a purse to dip into whenever he wanted money. That purse was nearly empty now, but an even greater worry to Deborah was Ran’s health. Doctor Reedley had been blunt.

      ‘If Lord Kirkster continues with his mode of life he will not live the year out. Keep him here, quiet and sober, and he has a chance.’

      But how was she to do that? She could not physically restrain him and sometimes she thought her brother was hell-bent upon self-destruction.

      * * *

      ‘Deborah, what is it, has something upset you?’

      Gil’s voice broke into her despondent thoughts and she gave a little start.

      ‘I was thinking about my brother.’

      ‘I see.’

      She shook her head. ‘No, how could you?’

      ‘You could tell me.’

      She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted by carrying the burden of it on her own. She wanted to share it, at least a little of it, and Gil’s tone was so calm, so kind, it invited confidences.

      She said, ‘Ran was just eighteen when Papa died. He was really too young to take responsibility for his inheritance, but his guardian was a distant uncle, who saw no profit in his putting himself out for his nephew. Wild friends and wilder living soon swallowed up the funds from our modest estate. I did not know how low Randolph had sunk until I visited him unexpectedly in Duke Street and he confessed the whole. That was when I persuaded him to come and live with me at Fallbridge and close up the Liverpool house. It is an attempt to retrench. I know full well that Ran is doing it only for my sake. But that is not the worst of it.’

      She saw Gil recoil and raise one hand as if to silence her, but the next moment that hand was reaching across and covering hers in a brief, comforting grip. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said quietly. ‘I did not mean to stop you. Do go on, my dear.’

      She shook her head, realising how close she had come to unburdening herself fully, but these were not his problems. And Randolph would not wish her to tell anyone that through his own actions he had destroyed his health so comprehensively.

      ‘I should not have said so much. It is unforgivable to disclose my family’s problems to you or anyone else.’

      Gil’s heart contracted when he heard the distress in her voice. What had she been about to tell him? That Kirkster had seduced an innocent schoolgirl and then killed her brother in a duel? He did not want to hear her say it, even though it was the truth. For one wild moment he had a craven impulse to turn his horse and gallop away, but he couldn’t do it. He could not leave Deborah now. He swallowed, clearing his throat of the constriction that threatened to choke him.

      ‘You can tell me, Deborah. If it will help, you can tell me anything you wish.’

      Somehow he managed to meet her eyes, even to smile, although he hated himself for it. But she was shaking her head and dashing away a rogue tear.

      ‘No, no, I must not burden you with such things. And it is not so very bad, after all. We shall come about, I am sure.’

      She turned the conversation and Gil answered mechanically, the conjecture in his brain almost too much to bear. Did she know that her brother was a libertine? Did she condone his behaviour? He did not want to believe it, he thought her too good, too honest for that, but he could not be sure, because she was clearly unhappy about her brother. He would find out, but not now. Not today. Today he had invited Deborah to ride out with him purely for pleasure and he would do his best to make sure she enjoyed it.

      * * *

      Another mile riding cross-country brought them to the sandhills and Deborah led Gil to a narrow track that ascended the embankment. The path wound its way through a thick carpet of star grass, which she told him the locals were obliged to plant, to keep the hills intact and protect the farmland. When she reached the crest of the hill she stopped and he brought his horse up beside her. The embankment dropped away to a sandy shore, and beyond it the rippling waves of the sea.

      ‘The tide is coming in,’ she said, ‘and with it the breeze. Be careful of your hat, sir.’

      He grinned at her. ‘You need not worry, it is a snug fit.’

      They rode down to the beach, eventually coming to a small cottage nestled into a dip in the sandhills. A few small nets were drying on the outer walls and a thin spiral of smoke was issuing from the chimney. On impulse Gil jumped down and went to the door, returning moments later to suggest Deborah should dismount.

      ‘The widow who lives there is cooking shrimp and has offered to feed us. Will you join me?’ He added, to persuade her, ‘I shall pay the old dame well for her trouble, certainly more than the shrimp would fetch at market.’

      He saw the laughter in Deb’s eyes, but she hesitated and looked back at her groom, who shrugged.

      ‘I’ll look after the horses, Miss Deborah. Just as long as you don’t go out of sight.’

      ‘No, of course not. We can sit upon the log that has been washed up yonder.’

      Kicking