An Inconvenient Wife (10 page)

Chapter Eight

The man was late.

Blackwell leaned against the
window frame to watch for Meraux. Taking full advantage of the easily cowed
maid, Fatima, he had sent her and the children off with the Fentons. Danielle
had heeded his instructions; she and Guy each carried one small bag, presumably
filled with their prized possessions. He was appalled by the sparse collection
of children’s clothing in their bedchambers, a parsimony that fueled his anger.
Keeping his hands off the man was going to be difficult. Blackwell wanted to
give Meraux a good thrashing, but hesitated to give the Frenchman grounds to
complain to any authorities. The documents he had found would be enough.

He turned to rest his back
against the wall by the window and removed a sheaf of papers from his coat
pocket. The search of Meraux’s chambers had been more rewarding than he had
expected. Either the man was a fool or he had no fear of discovery, since he
had not seriously attempted to hide Danielle’s adoption documents and terms of
support. The Frenchman was not going to be pleased to learn they were now in
Blackwell’s hands. The mystery of why Meraux seemed to have ample funds was
answered.
La Comtesse
had provided generously for her niece.

A key grated in the lock on
the front door and he straightened, put the papers in his pocket, and strolled
to the entryway.

“Good afternoon.”

Meraux dropped the hat he
was about to hang up and gaped at him.

“Who the hell are you and
what are you doing in my house?” He looked past Blackwell into the room behind
him. “Danielle! Guy! Fatima!” he shouted, his expression turning grim when no
one responded. He stepped closer to Blackwell. “You blackguard, what have you
done with them? I’ll have you arrested!”

“You will not.” Blackwell
ordered, not moving. “What you
will
do is sit and listen.” He motioned
to a chair and scowled, eyes narrowed and mouth drawn tight. His face felt set
in stone, and he was unsurprised to hear the Frenchman grumble something under
his breath before he dropped into the indicated seat. Like most bullies, he’d
backed down easily enough.

“What do you want? If it is
money, you might as well know up front that I am not a rich man,” Meraux
sputtered under Blackwell’s cold stare.

“You have more than you
deserve, Meraux, and I am going to be generous and not take your ill-gotten
gains.” Blackwell bared his teeth. “Blackguard is too nice a word for what you
are. You prey on children, steal their inheritance, and your disgusting attempt
to force yourself on a young girl is so far beyond the pale I don’t even have
words for it.”

“She is willing!” Meraux
jumped to his feet.

Blackwell grasped the
Frenchman’s neckcloth in one hand and twisted it. “She..is..
not
.” He
spit out the words, shoved the florid-faced man back into the chair, and
tightened his grip. “You will never come near Danielle again or I swear I’ll
see you strung up—and it will not be by your neck.” He looked pointedly at the
man’s privates and released him. Meraux shrank back as far as the chair would
allow.

Blackwell took out the
papers and slapped them against his palm. “Your dirty deeds are known, Meraux.
Here’s the proof that you have been living off Miss Durant’s trust fund,
provided by
La Comtesse
, for her
niece,
not you.”

“I’ve fed and clothed them,
even put up with that damn dog,” Meraux growled. “As their guardian, I’m
entitled to that money!”

“Prove it.” Blackwell caught
the flash of consternation in the Frenchman’s hate-filled eyes and smiled
grimly. His guess that Meraux was
not
their guardian appeared to be
correct. “The children are no longer your concern.”

“But I want her! She’s
mine,” Meraux whined.

Blackwell was amazed at the
petulant thread of bewilderment in the man’s voice; as if the girl were a
childhood toy he was being denied. He stared at the Frenchman until he squirmed
under his cold gaze. “She is not yours. Stay away from her, Meraux.” He picked
up his hat and gloves and started for the door, ignoring the spew of curses
behind him.

“You want her for yourself!”
Meraux shouted accusingly.

Slowly, Blackwell turned.
Meraux was on his feet now, his face twisted in an ugly grimace.

“I’ll find out who you are
and then we’ll see who is in the right. The English Consulate might be
interested to hear that you intend to steal away my stepdaughter. Her
reputation will be ruined and yours with it.”

Blackwell’s rage rose with
every word. With careful deliberation, he removed the gloves he had just put
on, placed them both in his left hand, and stepped forward to deliver a
satisfying right cross to Meraux’s chin. The man dropped like a stone.

“If I hear one rumour of
your filthy lies, you can count on more of the same.” Blackwell gave his
groaning victim one last look and left the room.

He paused in the lane behind
the house to breathe deeply of the moisture-laden air before making his way
around to the street. Miserable maw worm. Too bad the cur hadn’t the gumption
to stand up to him, so he would have had the pleasure of knocking him down
again.

Blackwell rubbed his
stinging knuckles and pulled on his gloves. He was expected at the villa to
collect the children, but first a stop at a cantina for a much-needed drink was
in order. He chose the same establishment he had visited a few days previously,
where he could find a quiet corner to down his brew and think through the
encounter with Meraux.

The barman greeted him
pleasantly, filled his order, and indicated a vacant table off to one side of
the low-ceilinged room. No one who knew Blackwell would believe the Frenchman’s
nasty accusations, but mud tended to stick, however untrue. Besides, the chance
of anyone learning of his involvement with the Durants was slim. He had every
intention of getting them aboard the Lady Gay and headed for England within a
few days.
What if someone does hear of it, Westcott? You may see Danielle as
a child, but not everyone would. You know how vicious gossip can be. The girl
has enough to contend without the gossipmongers calling her soiled goods. Some
people are ready to believe anything and relish passing it along.

His mind drifted to Miss
McKenzie, as it had too often in recent days. Perhaps she could advise him,
maybe find a maid or governess willing to travel to England with him.
Which,
unless the governess is in her dotage, would only make things worse, you idiot.
What’s needed is a respectable matron to act as chaperone, an older woman above
reproach.

“Which you are not apt to
find, Westcott,” he muttered. He finished the ale and rose. It might be that
Carlisle could suggest a solution. He had to meet with the Captain in any case,
inform him of the situation, and arrange to sail as soon as possible. Still
turning ideas over in his head as he walked to the villa, Blackwell’s mood had
not improved when he arrived at his destination, and he rapped impatiently on
the thick wood panel.

“Mr. Blackwell.”

“Mrs. Fenton.” Blackwell was
becoming accustomed to the woman’s curt manner. Knowing she had no taste for
idle chatter, he took the jerk of her head toward the courtyard as an
invitation. They were all outside today, no matter the damp, cool air, and he
stood back to study them. Miss McKenzie was settled in a chair by the fountain;
Guy curled up in her lap, his sister and dog at her feet. Danielle had a flute
in her hand but was half turned to look up at her teacher. Miss McKenzie said
something that made the child smile and laid a gentle hand on her head.

Blackwell was struck with a
longing almost painful in its intensity. He wanted a woman to give that care
and compassion to Sarah. He wanted
her
, Anne Mackenzie, to love his
daughter, nurture her as she grew into womanhood. As a governess? The idea was
instantly dismissed as unacceptable. Anne’s class and temperament precluded
such a role. She would never accept that and her presence in his household as
such could hinder his petition to the court to grant him the wardship of the
Durants.

You could marry her; take
her back to Hampshire as a mother for all the children
.
Blackwell waited for the expected strike of horror to hit him for even
entertaining the thought. His
marriage to Camille was not one as to
encourage a second but, in some strange way, he was certain Anne was nothing
like his first wife, and his biggest concern was that she would instantly
reject the idea.

How to persuade her?
She
is in some kind of trouble that marriage would no doubt resolve, and she loves
those children. Enough t
o
make up for a loveless marriage, Westcott?
But many women marry for lesser reasons. You can give her your name,
position—a home. That surely counted for something. Just not your heart.
Sarah, and only Sarah, had his heart now.

He watched the trio a few
minutes longer and then walked over to join them. Guy appeared to be
half-asleep, but Danielle sprang to her feet, looking so frightened he forced a
smile.

“I have made all the
arrangements necessary with
Monsieur
Meraux and you have no reason for
concern. He will not bother you again, Miss Durant. In any case, we leave for
England in a few days.”

“He won’t?”

Disbelief tinged her words,
and now his smile was genuine. “He will not.”

A long breath escaped her. “
Merci.
”
And then, as if the enormity of it had just sunk in, she whispered, “England?”

“England,” he confirmed,
aware that Miss McKenzie followed this exchange with avid interest. He looked
down at her. “Perhaps I can speak to you privately, Miss McKenzie?”

She gazed at him, raised her
brows, and gently woke Guy. “Would you please take Guy inside, Danielle? Find
Mrs. Fenton and ask her for some refreshment.” She set the boy on his feet,
stood, and shook out her skirts. “The damp seems to make clothing wrinkle
terribly,” she said as the children scampered away with Bonnie nipping at their
heels.

Blackwell surveyed the heavy
black gown. “A lack of creases is not going to make that dress more attractive.
Why do you wear such clothing, anyway? Colours would be far more becoming.”

A pained expression crossed
her face. “Certainly they would,” she retorted, “but the material is cheap and
I attract less attention this way.”

He put a hand under her arm
and began to walk. “Avoiding attention appears to be an objective with you,
Miss McKenzie. Will you tell me why?”

“It is, and I will not,” she
said with some asperity, her look daring him to question her further.

“A pity.” It was an
unexceptional comment, one that judging from her surprised expression, was not
what she expected to hear. He had no intention of questioning her about the
past right now, however. He led her back to the fountain and motioned toward
the chair. With one booted foot resting on the stone wall that enclosed the
water, he braced an arm against his leg and gazed down at her
.
Some of her hair had escaped the knot at her neck
and tendrils curled around her face. She was too thin, he decided. Just how
short of funds she was, and why?

“It is true? You have
persuaded Meraux not to contest your plan to take the children to England?”
Anne asked.

Pulled from his thoughts by
the question, Blackwell nodded. “I was fortunate in finding Danielle’s adoption
papers, as well as the document outlining the terms of the trust arranged by
her aunt. Just as we surmised, Meraux is not their official guardian. He has no
legal rights to Miss Durant in particular, and doubtfully Guy.”

Her sigh held a wealth of
relief and she gave him a grateful smile. “I am so pleased for them. And now
you are taking them to England. Where will they go? To your friends?”

“That, Miss McKenzie, is
quite possibly up to you.”

Her eyes widened, but in
that patient manner typical of her, she leaned her head to one side with an air
of interest and made no comment.

Blackwell stared at the
splashing water while he chose his words.
An immediate refusal from her
might make her feel unable to change her mind. Better if part of the idea came
from
her
. “I find myself with something of a dilemma here. Danielle
and her brother
must
go to England. They cannot stay here, and any
travel to France as long as the war continues is out of the question, even if
they did have relatives there.” He straightened and sat on the wall beside her.
“The problem is that traveling with an unmarried man will damage Danielle’s
reputation irreparably. And before you say no one need know of it, please
believe me when I tell you it will not remain a secret for long. People will be
curious about her, and they will gossip.”

“You are a widower, Mr.
Blackwell?”

He nodded, and she fell
silent, her expression a picture of concentration. In fact, the silence went on
so long he was tempted to say more.
Patience, Westcott. Give her a chance to
think it through and come up with the answer you need.