Chapter Four
Cool air whistled past Seth’s ears and burned through his nostrils as he pushed his chestnut thoroughbred Sabre into a full sprint. The dawn stretched across the horizon like a cat easing herself into the day. He breathed in the musk of hay and leather as his lungs expanded to full capacity, heart hammering against bone in the space between breaths. The morning dew streaked gashes across the legs of his trousers as he flew through endless grassy fields.
“Why else have a country-wide contest?” Cooper tipped back the remaining drops of his second brandy. “If it was a hunting rifle, he would commission it himself. For a lot less than ten thousand pounds! Look at what is happening right now! You can’t mean to tell me that you of all people don’t see it.”
Cooper’s instincts had been on the mark! Mr. Edgars may have been searching for a gemstone encrusted rifle with gold filigree, but Lord Bolderwood, the Secretary at War, had been interested in their rifle. And, dare he say it—impressed. While the Duke’s high society theater distracted theton, Cooper had discerned the true reason behind the contest.
Britain was at war.
And so, they designed a military grade rifle fit for mass production.
“Blood will be on our hands.”
They had Lord Bolderwood right where they wanted him, and now Cooper had second thoughts? He could have voiced his moral qualmslong before they dumped their time, energy, and savings into the project. The lives they both wanted were within reach, and he would hold back at the finish line?
Seth gripped the reins, slowed Sabre to a trot, and turned the horse toward Cooper House. Relaxing his grip, he allowed Sabre to chart the familiar course back home. He wiped sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of dirt across his forehead.
Blood was already on Seth’s hands. It ran deeper than a lifetime of good deeds could wash clean. Cooper didn’t know what it was like to be on the front lines, drenched in fear, surrounded by soldiers, most of them younger than Caroline. Seth remembered every fallen soldier’s name, their screams echoing forever in his ears. How many times had he bemoaned the quality of standard issue equipment? Faulty weaponry took more lives than enemy forces. If he was going to do this, he owed it to those men to put a gun in their hands designed by one of their own. Someone who understood the conditions they faced in battle.
We’ll save so many lives.
With Cooper House in sight, Seth took control of the reins once more and eased his horse onto a travel-worn path to the stables. Rusted nails and a wish held together the sun-stripped wooden boards of the old barn. Functional for its purpose, and temporary. The animals would be returning to the newer barn closer to the house upon the completion of their master’s project.
Or perhaps not, Seth thought.Either way, I won’t be around to know.
Clopping hooves kicked up a fine layer of dust beneath him, and he closed his eyes against it, blinking hard. He opened his eyes again to a pleasant, and not surprising, sight. At the barn doors, a woman stood as stiff-backed as a Greek statue amidst the muck. A grey dress and white bonnet covered her so completely that the only part of her hecould see was her neck and the line of her graceful chin. She noticed his approach, straightened her spine, raised her head, and met his eyes.
Cassandra.
Cursed with memory, Seth learned the devil was in the finer details, and he had memorized all of hers. She had three freckles in a perfect triangle on her left wrist. Roasted carrots were her favorite. She didn’t care for sweet treats, but enjoyed baking them. She was an early riser. Diligent, intelligent, altogether too serious.
Cooper adored her and guarded her fiercely, like a fluffy sheepdog defending its flock. In turn, Cassandra mothered him and Caroline with the stern countenance of a clucking hen. She was indispensable to Cooper House. For months, she managed the ledgers, directed the staff, and ensured that estate needs wouldn’t interfere with her brother’s work unless absolutely necessary.
She was tough, his little bird.
But during the midnight hours, when his own sleep was hard fought, he would look out of his window and he would find her in the garden. Bathed in moonlight, wrapped in a blanket, nestled in on her wrought-iron perch. From the shadows, he had greedily stolen glimpses of the real Cassandra.
He had never seen anything more beautiful.
He knew the color of her eyes as they glowed in flickering candlelight. Memorized the thickness of her hair, and that when it spilled out of its pins—which it often did—a long curly lock wandered down the column of her throat. He could calculate the slope precisely. He knew the pattern to her breathing, and the length of her fingers as she turned the pages of a book. Her eyes shifted to his when she felt his gaze on her, a soft smile shaded by a blush across her cheekbones, and the indescribable warmth that flooded him in the exact moment that he fell in love with her months ago.
It had been enough for him to store these memories away, to hoardthem for a day when she would no longer be accessible to him. When she was married to a rich gentleman that wasn’t him, raising children that weren’t his. Years from now, he would pull from these memories and lay them bare in the dead of night, lined up with the rest of his failings.
It would have been enough.
Now, he knew how it felt to have those amber eyes fluttering close to his, to have her hair under his nose, and that same blush on his skin. It wasn’t enough. Not in the slightest. He wanted nothing more than he wanted her, but no amount of wanting could change one singularly painful fact.
He couldn’t have her.
No matter how high he climbed, she would always be out of reach. She was looking to marry a wealthy peer. He thought back to the letter hidden away in his room. Perhaps she had found one. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to not open the letter and read it. It wasn’t sealed! She wouldn’t have known. But he would have known, and he would never forget it. Seth fully intended to give the letter to her after breakfast. Now that she was here, feathers fluffed out, facing him down, a question rose to his mind, one that always seemed to get him into trouble.
What if?
Seth dismounted and handed the reins to James, then gave Sabre a long rub on his nose. Ignoring Cassandra, he strode to a water trough near the barn doors. Using both hands, he scooped a generous amount of water over his face before trailing his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He dried his face using the collar of his shirt and shook his head, spraying droplets of water about his shoulders.
Cassandra’s nose scrunched in distaste. She had not moved from her position at the door of the barn. Her eyes kept darting to the hems of her dress and the piles of manure around her with a grimace. Sethcouldn’t help but smile.
Adorable.