An Inconvenient Wife (7 page)

“Miss McKenzie will see
you.”

Surprise and disapproval
mingled in the man’s voice and Blackwell kept his expression neutral, although
he wanted to grin at the disgruntled look on Fenton’s face. The lady was more
independent than he had judged.

“Thank you.” He strolled
through the door behind his reluctant guide, into a small room that appeared to
serve as the parlour. A basket of sewing sat on the floor by one of the chairs
and a book lay face down on another. Curious, he walked over to look at it.
Wordsworth. He preferred Coleridge, but in truth, he was not overly fond of
poetry.

“Mr. Blackwell.”

Miss McKenzie’s head was
bare today and he was surprised to realize he had speculated about the colour
of her hair. A light brown, he now saw, streaked with lighter strands and
gathered into a knot at the back of her neck. The simple style suited her. The
urge to remove those pins and see it tumble free around her slim shoulders was
unexpected—and unwelcome. Suppressing the wandering notion, he bowed.

“Miss McKenzie. I appreciate
your granting me a few minutes of your time.”

“Our arrangement was
otherwise, sir, but as you seem to be somewhat insistent.…” She looked
resigned. “Besides, I have the feeling you are not one to give up and I prefer
a gracious concession when possible.” She motioned toward him and sat in one of
the two chairs. “Sit down, sir, and tell me just what it is you want.” A quick
smile lit her face. “It does not mean I will supply it, mind, but I will
listen.”

Startled by this glimpse of
humour, so opposite her hereto-now solemn expression, Blackwell set aside his
hat and gloves and took a seat. The lady appeared almost friendly today, which
perversely filled him with misgiving.

“As I said yesterday, I did
travel from England to meet Danielle Durant. I am charged with assuring that
she is well placed and needs no assistance.”
A reaction at that, if no more
than a flicker of disturbance under her intent gaze.
Your instinct is
sound. There is something wrong about that household. Now if you can persuade
her to confide in you….

“I have been observing
Meraux and the children for several days now, as well as making inquiries, and
cannot feel all is well there,” he continued. Perhaps something of his true
concern for the children showed, for she leaned back, steepled her fingers
together beneath her chin, and studied him with careful consideration.

“If I were to say that was
the case, which I am
not
, but just suppose, what do you think could be
done?”

Blackwell answered after a
long pause. “Much depends upon the legal relationship between Meraux and the
children. If he has adopted Miss Durant, it is unlikely that she can be removed
from his care.” He let out a short huff of exasperation. Truth was, without
knowing the actual situation, he had no idea what could be done. “Miss
McKenzie, I mean the girl no harm. This is a complicated affair, and I am not
free to disclose the entire story, but she has friends in England, powerful
friends, whose only desire is to see that she is well and happy.” He leaned
forward; his face set in what felt a hard, stern expression. “I do not believe
she is either of these things.”

She blinked several times
and drew back a little, seeming startled at his intensity and was silent for so
long he began to think he had frightened her speechless.
Not smart,
Westcott. You need her on your side.
Why he felt it of importance, he
couldn’t say
.
He shifted in his chair to widen the space between them
and was pleased to see her somewhat suspicious expression change to a look of
consideration, as if she found him an exotic puzzle beyond her understanding.

She leaned her head to one
side, and with a slight frown, countered smoothly. “In other words, you have no
solution.”

“No.” Blackwell allowed the
stark reply to hang almost visibly in the quiet room. He was aware of the faint
sound of someone moving around outside the open door—Mrs. Fenton, he supposed,
guarding her chick—and the click-clack and rumble of a passing carriage, but
every sense was fixed on this slip of a woman.

Her smile was slow and sweet
and he felt a knot he hadn’t been aware of, loosen in his chest.

“You are honest, I must say.
To your credit, of course.” Amusement lit her eyes, and a corner of her mouth
slanted up. “Suppose we agree to an exchange of information. I will tell you
what I know of the children and you will tell me who you are and something of
your background and involvement with Danielle.”

As if anticipating his
refusal, she held up her hand, palm out. “You will have to trust me.”

Blackwell swallowed his
protest. He preferred to remain as anonymous as possible, but her point was
valid. Trust was needed on both sides. “Well enough.” Half expecting her to
comment on his curt agreement and irritated by the guilty feeling it engendered,
he rose. “If we could continue this conversation outside? I find it rather
close in here.”

Miss McKenzie studied him
for a moment, and not seeming to be put off by his frown, stood and led the way
outside, with no more than a light, “There
may
be a breeze.”

Mild as it was, her
inflection made it sound as if she was highly doubtful and he bit back a smile.
The lady had an appealing way about her.

The rain had stopped.
Blackwell walked toward the rustic wood chairs standing beneath a tree and
touched one of the seats. It felt reasonably dry, but he looked a question at
his hostess. His buckskins would take no harm, but she may not want to dampen
her skirts.

“If I allowed the wet to
affect me, my life here would be rather limited.” She sat, looked past him to smile
at Mrs. Fenton, who had settled on the bench outside the door, and sighed. “I
am to start, I suppose. Do you know
anything
about these children, Mr.
Blackwell?” she asked with some asperity.

“Very little,” he allowed.
Too restless to sit, he leaned his hands against the back of the vacant chair.
“Miss Durant is thirteen years old. She has lost her parents, and she is
French.”

A moment to absorb this and
a shake of her head before she answered. “They are remarkably reserved, but
what I have gleaned is that Meraux is no real relation to them at all. Their
father died several years ago and their mother remarried within a year, thus
putting Meraux into the role of stepfather. Then the woman died, leaving the
children with him.” She raised her hands in a helpless flutter and let them
drop. “She was not long in her grave when Meraux sold the house, packed them
up, and brought them here, to a foreign country, where few people speak their
language, and they receive no schooling at all.”

“Have they ever said why he
came here?”

“No, and I am not sure they
know.” Miss McKenzie shook her head, a troubled expression on her face. “I am
especially concerned about Danielle. She seldom reveals any emotion, but I
believe she is afraid. Whether of her stepfather or the situation, I do not
know. Guy does not appear to be similarly affected. He has his dog, and
Danielle sees the lad is entertained.”

“Speaking of the dog, it
appears the animal lives with you, yet you say it belongs to the boy.”
Blackwell gave into his urge to move and began to wander around the courtyard,
although never too far from his hostess.

“One day in the market, I
came to the rescue when Bonnie had escaped and Meraux threatened to dispose of
her. I agreed to take her with the stipulation that they come every day to care
for her. One thing led to another, and they were able to get permission to take
music lessons.” She smiled. “Danielle enjoys it more than Guy, but both like
the English lessons I started.”

Blackwell stopped for a
moment to stare at her. “Why on earth are you doing all this for strangers?”

She took a deep breath and a
slight smile played on her lips. “I like children and they seemed in need of a
friend,” she said simply.

“Humph.” Blackwell resumed
his pacing. She was setting herself up for heartbreak. He could not imagine she
planned to remain long in Portugal and the children could disappear at any
time. Why was she here, anyway?
That information had not been part of
their bargain, but he was curious—more than curious
.
He sauntered over
and sat down. Getting that out of her today was not likely, but he would have
it before he left the country.

“Your turn.”

She leaned a little toward
him and gazed at him with wide-eyed interest, reminding him of an inquisitive
sparrow. Appealing, far too appealing, and his resolve to keep her at arm’s
length hardened.

“I am not sure what to tell
you. As I said, my name is Blackwell, Nicholas Blackwell. I reside in
Hampshire, near to Winchester, with my daughter.”

“You have a daughter?”

Annoyed at her look of surprise,
Blackwell stiffened. “I see nothing unusual in that,” he said with a distinct
chill in his voice.

“Oh, no, it’s lovely! You
are fortunate. How old is she?”

Her rushed reply held
genuine interest and Blackwell relaxed, though he had no intention of discussing
Sarah. “Sarah is almost nine.”

As if sensing his
unwillingness to speak of his daughter, Miss McKenzie turned the subject to one
he was almost as loath to discuss as Sarah.

“How did you come to be here
in Portugal, Mr. Blackwell? You admittedly do not know Danielle, yet here you
are, far from home. Why you, and not one of these so-called powerful friends of
the child who presumably at least know her?”

Unsure of how much to tell
her, Blackwell debated long enough to make her look suspiciously at him. He
settled his face into a bland expression. “One of the gentlemen involved is a
close friend. He knows I have business here and speak the language. For various
reasons, he was unable to come himself and asked that I stand in for him.”

“I see.” She raised her
chin, looked at him with weary patience, and repeated her earlier question.
“Why are you here, sir? You have a reason, apparently a sound one, to seek out
this child. I would like to know what it is, before I allow her to meet you.”

Blackwell stood and said
easily, “That is something I cannot tell you, Miss McKenzie, without Danielle’s
permission. You will have to trust me. I will do her no harm.” He looked down
at her with some sympathy, guessing how difficult this was for her. She was
truly attached to the girl and again he thought of the pain she would face when
they were inevitably separated. But this was a confidence entrusted to him, and
he could not break it.

She rose, studied him for a
moment, and then gave him a resigned smile. “Very well, sir, I will arrange for
you to meet with Danielle. For some reason, I feel I
can
trust you. I do
hope you don’t prove me mistaken.” She waved a hand toward him and walked away.
“Come back at three.”

She disappeared into the
house, and Blackwell once again found himself on the outside of the door.
Annoyed at yet another abrupt dismissal, he clapped his hat on his head and
strode off. The next time,
he
was going to decide when to depart.

Chapter Seven

“You let him get around you,
I suppose.”

The sharp comment was the
opening salvo to one of Maggie’s scolds. Anne laid her fingers against her eyes
for a brief moment before she turned to face the older woman.

“His request to meet
Danielle is not unreasonable, and I believe him when he says he means her no harm.”
Anne knew Maggie was being protective, but sometimes she felt hedged about by
her concern and this was one of those times. Not that she was always a good
judge of character—look at how wrong she had been about the Major!—but in this
case she felt Mr. Blackwell to be trustworthy.

“Let it be, Maggie. Perhaps
he can do something about Danielle’s situation. We certainly have not.”

“Nor are we apt to, but I’ll
not plague you, since I can see it is worrying you half to death. Go rest a
bit. Mr. Fenton and I will fetch the children.” Maggie’s lips tightened in
disapproval. “You need to turn your mind to your own affairs, Miss Anne. I was
not for telling you, until Mr. Fenton told me he saw someone very like the
Major this morning. Gave him a scare.”

Anne felt the blood drain
from her face. “But it was not Reynald,” she whispered.

“No, but you know it is no
more than a matter of time before the man shows up. He had but to check the
ships’ passenger lists to obtain our destination. You need to contact the
Consul.”

Sympathy mixed with the
exasperated expression on Maggie’s face. Anne forced the fear into a leaden
knot deep inside and steadied her voice. “I will write the letter today and
Bill can take it tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Maggie gave Anne’s shoulder
a comforting pat before she left the room and Anne dropped into a chair, her
knees too shaky to hold her.
You are being irrational. The man cannot force
you to marry him.
But her silent protest was feeble at best. Major Reynald
was obsessed, and determined to have her one way or another. His charming
manner and persuasive sincerity fooled more people than simple, naïve girls
like Anne. If only she had never gone to Gibraltar!
You would not have had
those years with Father and that was worth tangling with the Major. Get to
England. You will have more protection once you apply to Mr. Fordham for
assistance.