Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (8 page)

Still shivering, Millicent recalled
the first time she had met the earl, a silent man with dark hair and an
untrimmed beard covering a pale face. His blue gaze had been restless, but not
hostile. Even today, when she had been trying to help him in the carriage and
he had become angry, fear of him had never entered her mind. Sympathy and worry perhaps, but not fear.

Different situation
, she
told herself.
A very different man
.   

Climbing the wide stairwell from
the entry foyer, Millicent moved down the hallway past her own bedchamber. She
paused at the door to Ohenewaa’s room. The old woman had confined herself to
her room tonight. Millicent felt better about that situation, at least, knowing
that Amina had gone in a couple of times, directing servants who had brought in
a tub and water for washing, and later food and several changes of clothing for
the woman.

There were so many things pulling
at Millicent’s mind. Things such as how to make the old woman feel safe at
Melbury Hall. And how she was going to advertise for the position of steward to
replace Mr. Draper. And where she should spend her new income. She told herself
that she needed to sit down and decide what should be done first.

Too tired to put her thoughts in
any manageable order, she turned toward the earl’s chambers and lifted her hand
to knock.

She paused, recalling the misery
she had endured when Wentworth was in possession of these rooms. At times she
would break into a cold sweat just coming this near the door. Once again, she
pushed the fears back and knocked softly.

Gibbs opened the door, and one brow
arched in surprise. “Lady Aytoun.”

Millicent stared at him for a
moment. No one had called her that before, and she was not accustomed to the
name yet. Lady Aytoun. She managed, at least, not to look behind her in search
of the mystery woman.

“Is the earl sleeping, Mr. Gibbs?”

“Aye, m’lady.” He stepped back,
opening the door wider.

Millicent could see part of the bed
and the man sleeping on it. She didn’t come into the room. “Did he have any
dinner?”

“I am afraid his lordship had no
appetite after so many hours on the road today. But he tried some of the soup,
thank ye.”

“Does someone stay with him all the
time?”

“We try to, m’lady, at least when
he’s awake.”

She gave a nod of approval,
remembering how helpless he had seemed today, wedged between the carriage
seats.

“What is the earl fond of doing,
Mr. Gibbs?” It was an unexpected question, she realized, as the servant seemed
perplexed as to how to answer. “What I meant to say was, how does he prefer to
spend his days now?” 

“Well, he spends most of it in bed
or in his chair.”

“No, what I want to know is whether
he likes to read, or does someone read to him? Does he have a favorite
newspaper that I should have delivered? Is he fond of playing at cards?”

“Nay, m’lady, none of that. His
lordship likes to stare outside, and that is the extent of it, I’m sorry to
say.”

A twinge of sympathy pinched at Millicent. What kind of life was that for anyone? she thought. She made a
silent vow to establish a better routine for her husband. She gave a final
glance toward the sleeping man on the bed.
He looked subdued, certainly
not the hellion that he was reputed to be. “Are your own sleeping arrangements
satisfactory, Mr. Gibbs?”

“Aye, they are far better than I
expected, m’lady. I thank ye kindly.”

“Very well. Good night, then.” She
turned toward her own rooms.

“Lady Aytoun.” Gibbs stepped into
the hallway after her. “Since I’m to be here, if you think of anything around
Melbury Hall that I might be helping ye with, speak out, for I’m willing. I do
not think his lordship would mind.”

Millicent knew from the dowager
countess that the Scotsman had been with Lord Aytoun for years.  

“You saw me fire Mr. Draper today.
Perhaps you can help me as I try to find a replacement for him.”

“Aye, m’lady. Whatever I can do to help,
I am here to oblige.”

Millicent nodded gratefully and
turned away. As she walked back toward her own bedchamber, though, she found
herself thinking not of the relief of having extra help, but of the man she’d
found wedged helplessly between the seats of a carriage, and seeing in her mind
the defeated look in his eyes.

*****

“Why in the devil’s name would you
accept payment from her?” Jasper Hyde hissed at the other man. “You know damn
well once she got the slave, everything changed.” 

“My apologies, sir, but—”

“You and your deuced apologies can
go to hell.” He pounded a fist on the table. “Blasted lawyers.”

Mr. Platt, a small man, folded his
hands on his desk. “It was clear, Mr. Hyde, that our plans had been frustrated.
I could find no way to refuse the cash payment. The amount covered all of Lady
Wentworth’s outstanding debts to you. Her lawyer did not even try to wheedle
out of paying the interest for this month. The entire amount she owed you,
correct to the last farthing, was included in the settlement sum.”

The sharp pain slicing through his
chest made Jasper Hyde refrain from hammering on the desk again. His hand
clutched a spot just below his heart, where he felt a dagger burn and twist its
way in. There were never any bruises. No symptoms that anyone could see. The
few doctors he had spoken to about his ailment had told him, in so many words,
that there was nothing wrong with him. The heart appeared strong, they said. He
knew better. As always the pain came on sharply, then gradually eased.

“Are you unwell, Mr. Hyde?”

“Did you offer to take…?” He was
gradually recovering his breath. “To take the black woman as part of the
settlement?”

“I did. But Sir Oliver would not
consider it.”

“Then you did not have to take the
money.”

“It was all done legally, you
understand. I could not reject the payment.”

“And since when do you stick to
legalities, Platt?” Hyde planted both hands on the desk and glowered menacingly
at the lawyer. “You seem to be having a hard time understanding me. You told me
that she has no credit at all available. That she would not be able to pay for
the woman.”

“Mr. Hyde, there was no way of
knowing that she would marry the Earl of Aytoun that very day.”

Hyde cursed his damnable luck.
Yesterday, hearing all the rumors about the fallen earl, he’d not once imagined
the crippled bastard would be ruining his plans.

“We are
not
going to let
anyone stop us. Do you understand me?”

Hyde’s fist landed hard on the desk
again, scattering a pile of papers and making the lawyer jump as the candle
wobbled in its holder. Platt tried to straighten the documents before him.

“What is done we cannot und—”

With a sweep of his hand, Hyde
cleared the lawyer’s desk of all the papers, scattering them across the
chamber. “I want the old slave, Platt.
Now
.”

Sweat beaded on the lawyer’s brow
and ran down his temple. Hyde knew Platt did not want to face his fury. Many
words were left unsaid between them, but the intimation was clear. Hyde was
certain the black witch had cursed him. The pains in his chest. The change in
his luck. He did not need more proof than this. 

“In a fortnight or so, sir, we may
still be successful in making another offer for the slave.”

“You said yourself that she doesn’t
need the blasted money. Besides, she’ll never sell the woman to me.”

“Perhaps you might present yourself
in a different light. Perhaps you can tell her you have seen the error in your
ways. That you wish to employ the woman to help with the health of the slaves
in Jamaica. She did have the benefit of assisting Dr. Dombey, I understand.”

“You are a fool!” Jasper exploded.
“There is not a chance in the world that she’d fall for such a ruse. She’d see
through it in a moment.”

“I am simply suggesting, sir, that
money is not the only method we have to persuade her. She is just a woman and
therefore weak. In addition she now has a crippled husband added to her
burden.”

“And no debts with which to crush
her.”

“True, and her money might not run
out in the near future, so we shall need a new weapon to use against her.”

“What?”

Platt’s bony fingers formed a
steeple. “We need to continue keeping a close eye on her.”

“We need to find a way to pry her
fingers off the old woman.” Hyde straightened up, remembering the last meeting
he’d had with Dr. Dombey. With what was practically his last breath, the old
fool had spoken of honor, of how he would not sell Ohenewaa to someone like him
for any price. Fearing Dombey might do something as stupid as actually freeing
the woman before he died, Hyde had then simply helped the good doctor toward
his eternal reward.
   

But his damnable luck had been
against him that day too, as the slave was not there. A bailiff, representing a
number of Dombey’s creditors, stood outside, though, as well as several others
who were attending to the dying man. Hyde knew there was no way that he would
get his hands on her. He even had a good idea that she was somewhere nearby,
waiting for him to leave.    

“Perhaps we can somehow reason with
the lady through the earl’s lawyer.”

Hyde dismissed Platt’s comment with
a wave of his hand as a brilliant idea presented itself to him. “The doctor.
Find out for me the name of the doctor who is attending to Aytoun while he is
at Melbury Hall. I want you to arrange a meeting with him.”

****

Violet wasn’t aware that her boots
were wet. She paid no mind to the quilted petticoats and the white apron, all
mud-stained and soaked through as well.
She didn’t even realize that she
was shivering violently. As she fled along the path through the woods by the
Grove, though, tears continued to roll down her cheeks.  It was still dark when
she emerged from the woods, and she quickly moved up the knoll toward the back
of the house.  

Vi had no complaints about Ned. He
had not forced her to go back to the inn. When the cold rain had begun, she’d
gone willingly, giggling like a little fool the whole way. Once there, he had
not rushed her, either. He had taken his time, teasing and kissing her and
saying such sweet things to her. And like a wanton hussy, she had cried out in
ecstasy as he had been doing all those wicked things to her.

Once she’d left him and come out
into the night, though, shame had washed through her like icy rain. She became
more and more horrified as she ran home, thinking how she had simply spread her
legs. What made it worst of all, though, was that he’d had his way with her
without any definite commitment.

As she neared the gardens, she
thought back over the things he’d said. He’d said he was her man. He’d said she
was his true love. He’d said…

She stopped and leaned against the
garden wall, covering her face with her hands. He’d never said he would marry
her.

“Oh, God,” she said in a moan. What
if she was with child now? 

Her mother, long a widow, was no
whore. She had always been poor, but they’d always lived decently in St. Albans. And her grandmother had always been so proud of her. Years ago, her grandmum
had spoken almost boldly to Lady Wentworth about how Vi must be treated before
allowing her to serve as maid to the mistress.

Vi stabbed away at her tears,
remembering how her grandmum always referred to her as her own innocent thing.
Where had that innocence gone? Before the squire had died, Violet had been
ready to kill herself rather than let him touch her. She recalled how she had
hidden in one of the slave huts in the Grove so he wouldn’t find her. She had
been terrified, but she had survived. She had kept her maidenhead. And now she had given it up like some slut.

She had to talk to Ned. She had to
make sure he understood what kind of a girl she was. But perhaps ‘twas too
late? A sob caught in her throat.

The house loomed in the dreary predawn light. Pushing away from the wall, Violet ran toward it. As she reached the open garden
gate, though, a tall, dark figure suddenly appeared in front of her, and she
ran straight into a man, who grabbed her arms to keep her from falling.

She gasped and looked up at the
scarred face. “Moses!”

The man’s hands dropped back to his
sides.

“What are you doing out here at
this hour of the morning?” she asked gently. She knew that Moses served as a
watchman at night, but she had never returned this late and had not expected to
run into him.  

“Vi hurt?”

The gruff tone could not mask his
concern, making her feel doubly guilty. She shook her head at him. “No, Moses.
I’m not hurt.”

“Why is Vi crying?”

“’Tis nothing, Moses. I was just a
little sad. But I’m better now. Truly.” She touched his arm before going around
him and heading quickly up the hill. When she reached the door to the house,
she turned and looked back at Moses. Though she couldn’t see his face, he was
still standing where she’d left him, watching over her until she’d gone safely
in.

With the Chiltern Hills rising
behind it, Solgrave sat on a ridge overlooking a long, narrow lake that
stretched along a handsome valley. With its fine deer park and well-tended
farms, the country house of the Earl and Countess of Stanmore was truly a
beautiful place, one far superior to any of its neighboring country manor
houses. But the mansion’s grandeur did not diminish the value of its neighbors.
Solgrave conferred on them greater status merely by having the good fortune of
being located in the same vicinity. This added value had been reason enough for
Squire Wentworth to purchase Melbury Hall.