Mary Jo Putney (18 page)

F
rancie had located and hemmed a morning gown for Sarah’s use. It was outdated and the faded gray flannel was not flattering, but after a long day in a heavy riding habit that didn’t fit, Sarah welcomed the gown. She’d be glad when she had her own wardrobe back, though.

After Francie fastened the gown in the back, the maid said, “I borrowed some clothing from my youngest sister for Miss Bree. I’ll take it to her now.”

“I’ll go with you.” Sarah wrapped a warm paisley shawl around her shoulders. “I want to see how she’s doing. This must all be so strange to her!”

“Strange,” Francie agreed, “but in a good way. Easier to get used to comfort than to being poor and miserable.”

“I suggested to his lordship that you take charge of Miss Bree.” Sarah checked her appearance in the mirror, glad her voice sounded so calm. “She needs a woman to care for her and help her adapt to a new life. Someone who is more than a maid. You’ve been so good to me that I know you’ll be an excellent choice, if you’re willing.”

“Of course I am.” Francie’s face softened. “Would his lordship mind if I brought my youngest sister here to have tea with Miss Bree? They’re near the same age.”

Sarah thought of the varied circles Rob moved in and almost smiled. “I’m sure he and Bree will both be pleased.”

Together they left Sarah’s room and moved to Bree’s. Sarah tapped on the door. “Bree, it’s Sarah and Francie, who is going to look after you. Francie has clothing and I can guide you to the breakfast room.”

The door opened to reveal Bree, wearing her nightgown and with a blanket wrapped around her. Her dark hair was even wilder than the day before. “Do you have a comb?” the girl asked. “I look like a bloody bird nested in my hair.”

“Right here.” Francie dug into her canvas bag and produced a tortoiseshell comb.

As Bree eagerly accepted the comb and began working knots out of her hair, Sarah said, “I’m also going to give you a lesson in language. Words like ‘bloody’ and ‘bugger’ and ‘old bawd’ are considered unsuitable in polite society.”

Bree frowned. “Owens always talked like that.”

“Would you consider him polite society?”

“He bloody well wasn’t!” Bree exclaimed. Then she bit her lip. “How can I say that in ways that won’t shock everyone?”

Sarah laughed. “You could say that he was a vulgar fellow. You’re not like him, Bree. You’re a young lady and will be raised as one.”

“I’m really going to stay in Kellington Castle? His lordship didn’t change his mind last night?”

“He was very clear that you are his daughter and belong under his roof.” Thinking caution was appropriate, Sarah added, “The estate has many debts and the future is uncertain. But no matter what, your father will want you with him.”

Bree stopped combing. “Rich lords can lose their homes?” she asked incredulously.

“Not all are rich. The same men that kept your father from marrying your mother were also notorious spendthrifts. But your father will sort matters out as best he can.”

Bree glanced around the room. “This is bigger than my bl—vulgar grandpa’s whole cottage.”

“And much nicer, I’m sure!” Francie shook out a blue morning dress. “This should fit you. I hope you don’t mind that it’s from my youngest sister, Molly.”

Bree stroked the fabric. “It’s better ’n anything I’ve had since me mum died.”

“Molly would like to meet you.” Francie glanced at Sarah. “Perhaps I can invite her this afternoon? You can play together in the nursery and take tea.”

Bree’s face lit up. “Yes, ma’am! I’d like that.” She scooped up the garments Francie offered and retreated behind the screen to dress, but her voice carried over. “How can I learn to look like a bloody lady, Miss Sarah?” There was a stricken pause. “Can I say ‘like a blasted lady’?”

Sarah grinned. “ ‘How can I learn to look like a lady?’ will do.”

Bree sighed. “I don’t talk nice like you, I don’t know how to dress, I don’t know nothin’.”

“Which is why you have Miss Francie,” Sarah said. “You’re a clever girl, and you’ll learn quickly. A year from now no one will believe that you didn’t grow up in a manor house.”

“I hope you’re right.” Bree emerged from behind the screen, looking striking in the blue dress. She would be a real beauty. She looked in the mirror and involuntarily smiled with pleasure. “Thank Molly for me, and please, I’d really fancy meeting her.”

Francie asked, “Miss Sarah, is it all right if I nip home and invite Molly while you’re eating breakfast?”

“Please do.” Sarah smiled at Bree. “Now we find our way down to the breakfast parlor.”

The girl frowned. “I thought you knew the way.”

“I guess well.” Sarah handed Bree a shawl. “You’ll need this.”

Francie chuckled. “I’ll take you down. This place is a right maze and it’s easy to get lost.”

It was, too. Sarah was glad for Francie’s guidance.

She wouldn’t be here long enough to learn her way around.

 

 

Rob stood when Bree and Sarah entered the breakfast room. Two beautiful females, and almost the same height. Bree would be tall, like both her parents.

Sarah was golden and bright, like sunshine walking. At first he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

Her eyes showed grave yearning, but it wasn’t evident in her voice when she said, “Good morning, Rob. Bree, would you like tea?”

He wrenched his attention to Bree, who didn’t answer Sarah because she was staring so hard at Rob. He stared back just as hard, hungry to learn everything about this unexpected daughter. She was so beautiful, so full of promise. So like her mother. He swallowed hard. “Are you comfortable, Bree? Has everything been satisfactory?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir! It’s been bloody wonderful.” Then she shot a stricken look at Sarah. “It’s been wonderful. Sir.”

Rob suppressed a smile. “I see that you’re already learning the ways of society. You’ll make mistakes at first, but with practice, you’ll know to save swearing for situations when it’s called for.”

“I can swear sometimes?” she asked, her brows knit.

“Some situations call for nothing less,” he said gravely. “Just remember that the fewer times you swear, the more effect it will have when you do.”

Bree absorbed his advice, then gave a sharp little nod. “Aye, sir.”

When her gaze went to the covered dishes on the sideboard, Rob said, “Have some breakfast. You must be hungry.”

Bree didn’t have to be asked a second time. She scooped a large spoonful of scrambled eggs onto her plate and was reaching for a second when she suddenly gasped and sent a frightened look to Rob.

Seeing the fear, he said soothingly, “You may have as much as you want.”

The girl relaxed. “When I took too much food, the old bugger would beat me.”

Rob winced, and not at the language. No wonder she was so thin. “And of course, you didn’t know how much was too much until he got angry.”

She nodded, looking older than her years. He wondered when her birthday was. “I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me, Bree,” he said firmly. “Also, when is your birthday? You must be almost twelve now.”

“Yes, sir. On April twenty-fifth.” Bree took a careful half spoonful of eggs, then added sliced ham and toast. Sarah poured tea for them, then collected her own breakfast.

Bree fell on her food like a starved wolf, using both fork and fingers, while Rob and Sarah watched in fascination and some concern at how hungry she was. Table manners could wait for another day, when she wasn’t so hungry. Rob guessed it would be a while before she would be able to relax and eat slowly.

He waited until they’d all finished eating before he said to Bree, “I was educated at the Westerfield Academy, a school for boys of ‘good birth and bad behavior.’ ”

Bree looked startled. “You were bad?”

“Often, but I learned not to be bad without a good reason.” Rob regarded his daughter gravely. “I’m going to ask you the two questions the headmistress asked when she was deciding whether or not to accept me as a student. First, she wanted to know what I loved and had to have, and what I hated and refused to have any part of. Will you answer those two questions?”

Bree frowned. “Will you throw me out if you don’t like the answers?”

“No, I’m your father, not your headmistress,” he replied. “But I would like to know what’s important to you.”

She chewed on her lip. “I can say anything?”

“You can.”

“I want . . . I want a pony,” she said in a rush. “A real pony just for me!”

He thought about the massive debts on the estate, but ponies didn’t cost much. “Yes, you can have a pony. Do you ride now?”

“A little.” Her expression suggested that she was exaggerating.

“You can start riding lessons tomorrow. When you’ve had time to practice, we’ll choose a good pony for you.”

She beamed. “A pony!” She turned to Sarah. “Did you hear? My father is going to give me a pony!”

Sarah smiled back. “I spent half my childhood on a pony.”

After Bree had had time to absorb some of her bliss, Rob asked, “The second question is what you hate.”

This answer came quickly. “I hate being hit. If I were bigger, I’d’ve killed the old bugger!” Bree said fiercely.

“I will not beat you. I swear it. Is there anything else?”

This answer came almost as quickly. “Don’t say nasty things about me mum, and don’t lie to me.”

“These are easy,” Rob said. “Your mother was wonderful and I could think all week and not come up with anything nasty to say about her.”

Bree bit her lip. “She was the best mum in the world.”

“My mother died when I was about your age,” Rob said softly. “I still miss her.” She would have loved this granddaughter. Voice normal, he continued, “I don’t like lying so I won’t lie to you, but I’d like you to promise that you won’t lie to me, either. Tell me the truth, no matter how appalling. I won’t hit you.”

She blinked at him. “I won’t lie to you. I swear it.”

Then she smiled at him, and his heart twisted in his chest. No matter how great a burden the earldom was, it was worth returning to Kellington to discover his daughter.

Bree bit her lip again, but this time it was thoughtful, not distressed. “Can I have my first riding lesson this morning?”

Rob hesitated. She’d probably love riding astride, but at this point, she needed training in ladylike behavior. “Sarah, might there be a riding habit Bree’s size?”

“Bree could wear the one I used yesterday,” Sarah replied. “It will be loose and long on her, but there’s lots of padding if she falls off the pony.”

Bree’s eyes were shining. “Sir—Papa—could you teach me?”

Rob felt startled, and absurdly pleased. “I don’t know if I’d be a good teacher, but we can try and see how it works.” He glanced out the window. “Since the sun is out, we don’t want to waste it.”

“The lesson would need to be this morning,” Sarah said. “This afternoon Francie’s sister Molly is coming to have tea with Bree.”

Still more reason to be grateful to Sarah for all she was doing to make Bree feel welcome. “Then we’ll have the lesson as soon as Bree has changed into the habit. Sarah, do you have plans for the day? You could join us for the riding lesson.”

She shook her head. “I thought I’d explore the house. There’s plenty of it.”

“Leave a trail of bread crumbs,” Rob advised. “It’s easy to get lost.”

She laughed and got to her feet. “I’ll bear that in mind. Until later.”

Then she left, and the room lost most of its sunshine.

R
ob was approaching the house after his riding lesson with Bree when he met Sarah emerging from the side door. The sunlight transformed her hair to gold, and the sight made him smile. “Are you going for a walk? I can show you around the grounds.”

She smiled back. “Thank you. I’d like to see more before I go.”

He hated knowing that she was going to leave. But all the more reason to enjoy her company while he could. He offered his arm. “Would you like to see the original castle? I’m curious how much has fallen into the sea.”

Sarah’s warm hand tucked inside his elbow. “I gather the castle was built too close to the cliff.”

As they strolled through the formal gardens, he said, “It probably seemed a reasonable distance in the fourteenth century, but for the last hundred years or so, bits have taken to falling off.”

“A good thing the present house is well back. Speaking of falling off, how did the riding lesson go? I hope Bree wasn’t falling off!”

He grinned. “I’m not sure she was ever on a horse’s back before today, but she’s a natural. Jonas produced a very gentle old mare and Bree did well. It won’t be long before she’s ready for a pony of her own.”

“Did you enjoy spending time with her?” Sarah’s tone was casual, but she watched him closely.

“I really did. I’ve not had much experience with children, but knowing she’s my daughter . . .” He shook his head. “I’m going to be like butter in her hands. All she has to do is call me Papa and I want to give her anything she asks for.”

Sarah laughed. “How quickly the steel-hard Bow Street Runner melts! But I’m sure you’ll learn to discipline her as needed after you become used to fatherhood.”

“I hope so.” After another dozen steps, he said intensely, “I want to get this right, Sarah. But I’m amazingly ignorant. What does she need? How do little girls want to be treated?”

Without missing a step, Sarah asked, “What do men need? How do men want to be treated?”

After a surprised moment, he said, “I take your point. Both men and little girls are individuals.” He studied Sarah’s heart-shaped face. She was distractingly lovely. Reminding himself to stay with the subject, he continued, “You’ve met her and you were once a little girl. Do you have any suggestions? Should I hire a governess? Send her away to school?” He grimaced. “Assuming I can afford either.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” Sarah warned. “Is there a village school she could attend? Or perhaps she could have lessons with the local vicar?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “My father wasn’t interested in educating the lower orders. He believed that too much learning made them difficult.”

Sarah made an unladylike sound of disapproval. “Starting a school is another item for the list.”

“The list of things to do around the estate? It’s long already.”

“I started a new list today,” Sarah said apologetically. “When I was exploring the house. It really is a maze, with a mixture of treasures and trash. Overall, the condition of the house is better than the tenant farms, probably because your father and grandmother spent time here. But I thought it would be useful if you knew what would need to be done over time.”

He suppressed a sigh at the prospect of still more responsibilities. “Thank you. My knowledge of housekeeping is even less than my knowledge of estate management.”

“Good people can be hired to manage both. But a householder needs to know enough to ask the right questions in order to find good managers.”

“I should hire you to manage Kellington Castle,” Rob said, wishing it wasn’t a joke. “You’d do so much better than I. But back to Bree. I shouldn’t send her to school?”

Sarah shook her head. “Not now, perhaps never. Bree needs to feel that she has a real home. That she’s wanted and safe here as she was with her mother. Perhaps later a school will make sense, but you’ll have to choose one carefully since she’s illegitimate. She’d be tormented unmercifully in some schools.”

“A pity that Lady Agnes doesn’t have a school for girls,” he observed. “She has never allowed legitimacy to be an issue among her students.”

“The Westerfield Academy for girls of good birth and bad behavior?” Sarah said with amusement. “You should suggest that to Lady Agnes.”

“Perhaps I will.” They emerged from the gardens onto a grassy swath that ran along the cliff. In front of them the ruins of the original castle stood on a promontory thrusting out into the sea. Stone walls of various heights sketched the shape and size of the buildings that had stood there.

As they walked toward the old castle, a rabbit bolted away from the path and seagulls cried mournfully. The ruins ended abruptly at the cliff edge and pounding waves could be heard below.

He scanned the site, remembering. “When I was last here, the whole of that building was intact. A brew house, I think. Now half of it is gone.”

“It’s nice to have a legitimate set of ruins,” she remarked. “Building false ruins because they look picturesque is expensive.”

He chuckled. “These are certainly authentic. I played here often with village boys like Jonas. It’s a great place for hide-and-seek. There’s a maze of tunnels below. One of them runs well inland and comes out by an old icehouse near the modern house. I’m not sure if the tunnels were used for smuggling or for private comings and goings. I discovered my talent for finding people here. It was very hard to hide from me.”

As Sarah laughed, they turned to the left and along the path that paralleled the cliff edge. “I have a few other thoughts concerning Bree,” Sarah said. “First, if you are considering an heiress, don’t just take her word that she adores children and she loves the idea of being stepmother to your illegitimate daughter. Look at what she does, not what she says. Some women will say anything to acquire a title.”

“That’s good advice.” If he married for cold practical reasons, it would be easier to be objective in his observations. “What are your other thoughts?”

“This is a rather small thing.” She glanced up at him. “Bree will turn twelve in a few weeks. Perhaps you could arrange a birthday party for her with the friends she had when living with her mother in that village. Bendan, was it?”

“Yes, it’s only about five miles.” Cakes and sandwiches for half a dozen girls were well within his budget. “That’s a fine idea. She’ll be happy to see her friends again, and it will remind her of the good life she had before the old bugger.”

Sarah grinned. “Careful. That might slip out when you’re talking to others.”

“I hope to have no reason to ever discuss the man again.” Rob halted them and gestured down the cliff. “This is the path we came up after the yawl was wrecked.”

Sarah peered down it. “Good heavens, we really climbed that path in the dark on a stormy night? I’m impressed. It would give mountain goats pause.”

“The path is steeper than I remembered,” he agreed. “Lucky that I was more or less unconscious when I climbed up so I couldn’t see what I was doing.”

“Have you ever considered putting a handrail along the cliff?”

“I haven’t, but it’s a good idea.” He scanned the shingle beach below. “There are some scraps of wood that might have come from the
Brianne.
”

“Alas, poor
Brianne,
” Sarah said mournfully. “She was a good yawl.”

“She brought us safely across the sea,” he agreed. “It wasn’t her fault we didn’t have a good place to land.”

“Now that I think of it, why are boats always called ‘she’?”

He grinned. “Because they’re beautiful, capricious, and dangerous?”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted,” Sarah said thoughtfully.

“I decline to offer an opinion.”

Both laughing, they turned back. It felt so easy, so natural, to talk to her. When she returned to her real life of comfort and privilege, he was going to miss her like an amputated limb.

As they approached the house, the rumble of wheels and thunder of hooves could be heard. At least one heavy coach, perhaps more. Rob calculated distances. “Someone’s coming. It could be the Ashtons if they made good time.”

Sarah’s pace quickened. “Oh, I hope so!”

As they emerged from the garden, two large travel carriages swept up the drive and halted in the driveway in front of the house. “Those are the Ashton arms painted on the door!” Sarah exclaimed. “She’s here!”

She took off at an impressive speed and reached the lead coach as the door opened and Mariah tumbled out, not waiting for the steps to be lowered. “Sarah!”

“Mariah!” They fell into each other’s arms, Mariah weeping. Sarah said, voice shaking, “I have a wedding ring of yours.”

Mariah cried even harder.

Rob realized that the incandescent joy of the sisters’ reunion was a reflection of the agony Mariah would have suffered if Sarah’s sacrifice had proved fatal. Mariah’s grief and guilt would never have fully healed if that had happened.

Seeing the sisters together was disorienting since they were so similar, yet not truly identical. The duchess had the gentle roundness of new motherhood, while Sarah . . . was Sarah. Her face was slightly narrower, the personality she projected subtly flavored with her own style of mischief.

Even so, they were as like as two golden peas in a pod.

Ashton emerged from the coach after his wife. Dark haired, quietly elegant, and reserved, he didn’t look like one of the most powerful noblemen in Britain. Unless, perhaps, one looked into his unexpected green eyes.

He circled the women and came to Rob’s side. Holding out his hand, he said simply, “There are no thanks strong enough, Rob.”

“I was just doing my job, Ash.” Rob accepted his friend’s handshake, which conveyed more than words. “Or what used to be my job. I’ve acquired a new one.”

“From what Sarah wrote, rescuing her was a good deal more exciting than ‘just a job,’ ” Ashton said with amusement.

Rob shrugged. He’d never been good at accepting praise or gratitude. “We wouldn’t have made it here safely if she wasn’t amazingly intrepid.”

“Like her sister.” Ashton regarded the two women fondly. “They both look like spun sugar angels. So very misleading.”

So very true. As Rob chuckled, another round, comfortable-looking woman climbed from the carriage, a bundled baby in her arms. Mariah said proudly, “Sarah, meet your nephew, Richard Charles, the Marquess of Hawthorne.”

Sarah gasped and took the baby, who was dark haired and brightly interested in what was going on around him. “He’s so beautiful! He looks like both of you.”

“So far, he has a very easy disposition,” Mariah said. “I don’t expect it will last!”

“Perhaps it will if he takes after his father more than you,” Sarah said with a doting smile as she cradled the infant in her arms. The tenderness in her gaze took Rob’s breath away. She’d make a wonderful mother.

“We can talk after the ladies are settled,” Ashton said to Rob. Lifting his voice, he suggested, “Perhaps we’d best move this reunion indoors? You look tired, Mariah.”

“He’s right,” Sarah said. “Come inside and I’ll tuck you and the baby up and we can gossip over tea and cakes.”

The duchess smiled. She was beautiful enough to stop men in the streets, but her face was pale and her eyes shadowed. “I must be tired, or I’d resist all this fussing.”

Sarah laughed and escorted her sister, the nurse, and the baby into the house. “Relax and enjoy it since you have no choice.”

Inside, Sarah ordered tea and refreshments, then had Hector escort the female party upstairs to the royal suite, the best rooms in the house. Rob asked Ashton, “Do you prefer to talk over tea or brandy?”

“Tea. If we’re to talk business, we’ll need our wits about us.”

Rob ordered tea to be sent to the library, then took Ashton there by a wandering route. “Under the faux castle trappings it’s just a house, and not all that old.”

“But a pleasant, spacious house.” Ashton halted to gaze out a window toward the sea. “Because I live in a real abbey, I will testify that too much authenticity isn’t always comfortable. Ever since I inherited, I’ve been working to prevent icy winds from whistling down ancient chimneys and menacing stone corridors.”

Rob grinned. “You exaggerate.”

“A little,” Ashton admitted with a spark of amusement in his eyes. “But this house is appealingly eccentric. I hope you don’t mind if we stay for several days? There was no holding Mariah back from seeing for herself that Sarah is all right, but I’d rather not tire her with another journey before she’s feeling stronger.”

“You’re welcome for as long as you wish to stay. I’ve taken advantage of your hospitality at Ralston Abbey more times than I can count,” Rob said. “In fact, that’s how I happened to turn up right after Sarah’s abduction. A lucky chance created by your generosity in giving me carte blanche to stay when in the area.”

Ashton paused, arrested. “Do you know, I hadn’t once wondered about that? You appeared, it was a miracle, and it left me free to worry about Mariah. My Hindu ancestors would call it karma, not chance.”

As a pragmatist, Rob had no opinion whether his appearance was chance or fate. He was just glad that he’d arrived in time to help. If he hadn’t . . . His mouth tightened. He didn’t like to think what would have happened to Sarah.

They’d reached the library, where sunshine poured in the west-facing windows that overlooked the sea. He realized with wonder that this was indeed a pleasant house, and the library had always been one of his favorite rooms.

Since arriving in a state of collapse two days earlier, he’d been so weighed down by the burden of Kellington that he’d forgotten the pleasures. This had been a happy house when his mother was alive. It could be again.

If he could afford to keep the damned place.