Not Always a Saint (3 page)

A
s collective gasps filled the room, Jessie froze. Could Frederick really take Beth away from her? She looked at Mr. Harkin, and saw that his shock matched hers.

She wanted to scream that Frederick would take Beth over her dead body, but she'd learned self-control in a hard school. “Feel free to spend your fortune on lawyers, Frederick. Given the speed at which the courts work, Beth will be grown, married, and a mother herself before the case is settled.” Her eyes narrowed. “You are no longer welcome at Kelham Hall, and you will leave
now!
Mr. Wicks, see that Mr. Kelham is gone before the clock next strikes the hour.”

The butler inclined his head. “As you wish, my lady.” His gaze swept over the other servants. “The will has been read and it is time to return to your duties.”

In other words, the show was over. Frederick stamped out of the library, followed by the servants, who buzzed with excitement. Many cast sympathetic glances at Jessie. Though there had been initial wariness about the master's young actress wife, Jessie had run the household with fairness and calm dignity, and gradually won the servants' allegiance. The butler's defense of her had been welcome proof.

But Frederick was Philip's nephew and considered a gentleman. That gave him power.

After he slammed from the room, Jessie folded, shaking, into her chair, her arms wrapped around her midriff. The lawyer asked quietly, “Are you all right, Jessie?”

Her mouth twisted. “My husband is dead and his nephew is threatening to take my daughter away from me. No, I'm not all right.” But succumbing to panic would do no good. Forcing herself to relax, she asked, “Can he get custody of Beth, Marcus?”

The lawyer gave a troubled sigh. “I'd like to say you have nothing to worry about, but I can't. Though the legal ground for Beth's inheritance is sound, there are various ways that Mr. Frederick might cloud the issue. Chancery prefers that guardians not be men who would benefit by the demise of their wards, but because he is Philip's closest male relative, he might argue that as a baroness, Beth should be raised in accordance with her future responsibilities as a landowner, and he's best able to do that.”

“So a male relative is automatically a better choice than a mere female,” Jessie said bitterly. “A wastrel born to the beau monde is a better guide than a child's mother!”

“That is how many courts would see it,” he agreed. “Particularly since you are not of aristocratic birth.” There was a faint lift of the lawyer's voice at the end of the sentence, an invitation to tell him about her origins.

She ignored the implied question. Philip had known the general outlines of her past, but no one else. “My upbringing was respectable, but certainly not aristocratic, and I have no powerful family connections.”

His lips pursed. “A pity. Family connections are invaluable in such cases.”

“Can the title and entailed property be ceded to Frederick? He'll have no interest in Beth once he has what he wants.”

Harkin shook his head. “The title is fixed in the blood. For as long as Beth lives, she's Baroness Kelham. But even if it were possible to disavow the title, you couldn't do it on Beth's behalf. The inheritance is hers, not yours.”

Jessie's face tightened. “Well, Frederick will
not
get custody of my daughter! I'll run away with her before I allow that to happen.”

“Jessie, don't even think about that!” Harkin exclaimed. “How would you live? Even if you somehow manage to conceal her safely, would you deprive her of her name and her inheritance? As you pointed out to Frederick, court proceedings take time. There is no immediate danger of your losing custody, but if you take a desperate action and fail, you
will
lose Elizabeth!”

Jessie took a slow, deep breath, knowing he was right, yet unable to suppress the cold fear in her heart. “Can court proceedings drag out until she's of legal age?”

Mr. Harkin sighed. “Not that long. Since the subject of the dispute is a child, Mr. Frederick's lawyers would ask for a swift resolution of the case.”

“We can argue that giving custody of a vulnerable child to the man who will inherit her title and estate if she dies is a conflict of interest, to say the least!” Jessie snapped.

The lawyer frowned. “Surely you don't think that Mr. Frederick would actually try to physically harm her.”

Jessie bit her lip. She had good reason not to trust Frederick, but without proof, she would sound like a hysterical female and be dismissed out of hand.

“Not that.” Though she believed Frederick capable of that. “But no one can care for a child as well as its mother. Remember how ill Beth was two years ago, when she had lung fever? The doctor said she might not have survived if not for my care. If she fell ill again, Frederick would likely be in London carousing with his friends. You
know
she'll be better off with me!”

“I don't doubt it,” Harkin agreed. “Philip had complete trust in you to care for his daughter. He wanted you to remarry, and if you do, your new husband can apply for guardianship. Philip knew you wouldn't choose a second husband unless the man would treat Beth as if she were his own.”

Jessie bowed her head. “You cannot know how much I value Philip's trust,” she whispered.

“No more than Philip valued your love,” Harkin said quietly.

Guardianship of Beth could be transferred to a new husband.
Jessie became very still. Philip had told her of that provision in his will, but she'd paid little attention to it because she couldn't imagine wanting to marry again. But if Frederick was going to try to take Beth away... “So if I remarry, Beth will be safe?”

“Assuming your new husband is a man of good character, yes.” The lawyer's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “It wouldn't be a bad thing if he's also well connected in a worldly sense, in case Frederick disputes the transfer of guardianship.”

“He could do that despite Philip's explicit wishes?”

“Lawsuits can be brought for any and all reasons, no matter how foolish,” Harkin said dryly. “Ideally, you would marry a duke or a bishop who has so much wealth and worldly status that he could crush any foolishness Frederick may come up with.”

“I suspect there is a shortage of eligible dukes,” she said with equal dryness. And she'd rather run off with Beth than marry a bishop. “But there are many men of less exalted rank who are vastly superior to Frederick.”

“Indeed, there are. Though you'll have to wait until your mourning year is over, I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding a suitable husband who will please you and protect Beth.” Harkin smiled. “Frederick was right that few men can resist you. If I didn't have my Helen, I'd be susceptible myself.”

The fact that the lawyer was happily married had enabled them to become friends. But Harkin didn't fully understand how vulnerable women were, or what a curse beauty could be. She thought of the malice in Frederick's eyes. “Dare I wait a year? I can't help but feel the sooner Beth is out of his reach, the better. What if Frederick stole her away, claiming that as guardian, he has the right? Would I ever be able to get her back?”

The lawyer frowned. “You have loyal servants here. They would protect her.”

“Yes, but most are old, and Frederick can be very persuasive.” Jessie smiled humorlessly. “Perhaps I should take Beth to London and look for a husband immediately. A husband who can protect her better than I.”

“Husband hunting when Philip is barely cold will give you exactly the sort of reputation that Frederick can use against you,” Harkin said disapprovingly. “I do not advise it. Nor can you stay in Kelham House if you go to London since Frederick is living there and it would be difficult to dislodge him. You could hire a house, or take Beth to your house in Canterbury, but that won't necessarily be safer than staying here.”

Jessie frowned. “I need a fortress and a powerful husband, neither of which I'll find in Kent. London has more possibilities.”

Looking pained, the lawyer said, “I suppose so, but finding the right sort of husband will be difficult since you have few connections in society. Philip never took you to London and you say you have no powerful connections of your own. Unless you know some wealthy merchants? But I fear a judge might not look approvingly on a Cit for Beth's stepfather.”

“I don't know any rich merchants and I've had very little contact with the beau monde.” She caught her breath. “But I know a duchess and the daughter of a duchess.”

Harkin blinked. “How?”

“Lady Julia Randall created the Sisters Foundation, which is devoted to providing sanctuaries for women and children who have been brutalized. I heard of her work and wrote her, offering what I could spare from my pin money. We continued writing since we enjoyed each other's thoughts. She also put me in touch with her good friend, the Duchess of Ashton, who is deeply involved with the foundation.” Jessie smiled fondly. “Their letters were a bright spot during Philip's last illness.”

“I've heard of both women,” Harkin said, impressed. “They and their works are much admired. Can they help you when you are ready to consider remarrying?”

“They've already offered their aid and hospitality. Lady Julia's husband is a lifelong friend of the Duke of Ashton, so the Randalls have quarters at Ashton House. I was told there's ample space for Beth and me if we come to London.”

“I've seen the outside of Ashton House. It is indeed a fortress,” Harkin said thoughtfully. “Having such well-placed friends can only be a benefit, and I'm sure you and Beth will enjoy visiting London after these last difficult months.”

Jessie nodded, her throat tight. Though not bluntly stated, it had been clear that the ladies were offering her a holiday as a respite after her husband's death.

The lawyer said quietly, “Philip told me a fortnight ago that he felt blessed to have such a devoted wife. I know that caring for him wasn't easy.”

“Marriage vows are for sickness and in health, Marcus. I was blessed to have such a kind husband.” She looked down to the knotted hands in her lap. She could hardly bear the idea of marrying again. But for Beth, she would do it.

It was either that or be prepared to kill Frederick if the greedy devil threatened her daughter. “I must look to the future for Beth's sake. I'll write Lady Julia tonight to affirm that the invitation is still open.”

Jessie must also force herself to accept the necessity of remarriage. She could do this. She just needed to find a husband who was strong, and kind, and
safe.

I
t took only two days for Daniel to arrange matters at the infirmary so he could leave for London. That was the advantage of hiring good people and giving them opportunities to learn, but it was rather unnerving to realize that he was less essential than he'd thought.

Kirkland had stayed with him, using his time to attend to the business of his shipping line. They traveled to London in the splendidly sprung Kirkland carriage, which gave Daniel time to interrogate his brother-in-law about the responsibilities of a peer. Kirkland could always be counted on for an honest, insightful answer. Though nothing was beyond Daniel's abilities, most of his new duties didn't interest him.

But he'd have to learn anyhow. Sometimes he wished he hadn't been born with an overdeveloped sense of responsibility.

Despite London's noise and smells, his heart beat a little faster when they reached the city. It was an exciting place, where some of the best minds in Britain could be met.

Kirkland House was in fashionable Mayfair. Daniel had once made a brief visit, but because he'd arrived at night he hadn't paid much attention to the place's appearance. This time he arrived in the afternoon and he could appreciate the luxurious houses that faced the handsome park in the middle of Berkeley Square. Laurel had written of how much she enjoyed the trees and flowers of this urban garden.

As they entered Kirkland House, golden piano music spilled down the stairs in a rich flow of melody. Daniel smiled, his tension easing as he recognized his sister's playing. He'd been tense for quite some time, he realized.

“I'll take a quick look at these letters to see if there's anything urgent.” Kirkland lifted the missives from a side table, but nodded toward the stairs. “Follow the music.”

Daniel had once spoken the same words to Kirkland, and for the same reason: to find Laurel. Glad Kirkland was giving him time for a private greeting, he ascended the steps quietly, examining his surroundings.

On his brief previous visit, the house had seemed coolly elegant and unwelcoming, a place of mystery and secrets. Though the furnishings and decoration were little different, the atmosphere had changed. Now the house was warm and welcoming, and not only because afternoon light poured in the windows. The structure reflected its new mistress because Laurel created warmth wherever she went.

The music room door stood open to the upstairs corridor. He stepped inside and found Laurel at the keyboard of a magnificent Broadwood piano that was twin to the one in their Bristol house.

Laurel's eyes were closed as she played one of her favorite Beethoven sonatas from memory, her fingers sliding expertly over the keys. She didn't wear mourning black for their parents. Understandable, given that they'd disowned her.

When she finished the sonata, Daniel said softly, “I've missed having music flowing through the house.”

“Daniel!” His sister spun on the bench and rose to greet him, glowing with Madonna warmth. She had never looked lovelier.

When she hugged him, she had to lean forward a little because of the expanding curve of her waistline. “I've missed you so much!”

“As I've missed you.” His hug was swift but careful before he stepped back and scanned her with a physician's eyes. “You're feeling well?”

“Wonderful! I've passed the stage of feeling exhausted and ill. I suspect that I'm close to the end of the buoyant and energetic phase.” Laurel grinned. “Soon I'll start waddling and counting the days till I meet this baby in the open air.”

Daniel smiled fondly. “A joyous day indeed. Will Kirkland mind if it's a girl?”

Laurel spread her palm on her abdomen. “James swears all that matters is that the baby and I are healthy.”

Daniel agreed. Childbirth was not without risks and Laurel was nearing thirty, rather old for a first child. “You have a good midwife?”

“Two of them! The wife of one of James's friends is an experienced midwife, and she's been very helpful. She probably won't be in London when the baby arrives, but she introduced me to a woman whom she recommends highly.”

“I'd like to talk to the one who will be here when the baby arrives.”

“Don't think you can intimidate Mrs. Granger,” Laurel said with a laugh. “She knows her business as well as you know yours. But enough about me. How are you coping with your unwelcome ennoblement?”

Trust Laurel to understand. “I keep hoping there's been an error and that some other fellow who will appreciate the honor is the true heir,” Daniel said ruefully.

“I fear not. Mr. Hyatt, the Romayne lawyer, visited me with the family tree in case I knew any other sprigs that might stand closer to the late Lord Romayne, but there was no one. You're trapped, Daniel. But once you become accustomed, you'll find there are advantages.”

“Kirkland said as much,” Daniel said dryly. “I haven't found them yet.”

“You'll have more money for good works. I've been having a lovely time spending Kirkland's money on my favorite causes.” She studied his expression thoughtfully. “Are you thinking of looking for a wife? This would be a good time to consider doing so.”

He gave her a half smile. “You've always been good at reading my mind. A wife would indeed be convenient, especially if she's skilled at estate management.”

His sister laughed. “Surely you have other requirements!”

“Reasonably attractive but not beautiful, because beauties require too much attention,” Daniel said promptly. “Mature and not addicted to London frivolity.”

Laurel managed to avoid laughing again, barely. “That's a start, I suppose. We'll have to have a ball to introduce you to society.”

Kirkland entered the room. “A ball in his honor will send Daniel flying back to Bristol in a heartbeat. Better to start with something less grand, like a musicale.”

“You're right, of course,” Laurel agreed. “But I do advise attending Lady Childe's rout three days from now. You won't enjoy it much, but you'll meet many people quickly so you'll start to receive invitations. Then you can choose events you like better.”

“Let's hold a dinner party for the Westerfield Academy old boys who are in town,” Kirkland suggested. “Some have wives who might have suitable friends.”

“A fine idea.” Laurel moved to Kirkland's side like a swallow returning to its nest.

“I'll enjoy seeing some of my other schoolmates.” Daniel glanced away because viewing the deep tenderness between them seemed an invasion of privacy. He was no longer Laurel's best friend. Kirkland was, which was right and proper.

With sharp yearning, Daniel wanted that kind of closeness. He'd had it with Rose. After she died at age twenty, a few months before they'd planned to wed, his heart had closed down. He'd never looked for a potential wife, and he'd ignored the advances of women who thought a doctor would make a good husband. Or a good lover.

He hadn't recognized the extent to which Laurel had filled the empty places in his life until she reconciled with Kirkland and was no longer available for companionship. They'd been partners in their work and household for a decade, but no longer. Laurel had moved forward into her life, and he must do the same.

But he didn't know a blessed thing about courting a potential mate. Rose had grown up on the neighboring estate and they'd first met in the nursery. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't known her, so no courtship had been required. Surely it would be possible to find a kind, sensible woman who would make his life easier?

Yes, such a marriage was possible. But given his ignorance about courtship, he'd better pray for good luck in his search.