Petals on the River (77 page)

amber-brown eyes rose to look at her in stony detachment. A gasp of

surprise came from her lips, and it was all that Shemaine could do to

meet that stoic regard and not retreat, for there was no doubt in her

mind that there stood Gage's father.
 
The resemblance was too close for

her to mistake.

"Is Mr.
 
Thornton here?" he asked in a cool tone.

"I'm sure he must be by now," she answered, somewhat flustered. "One of

the men said he went into Newportes Newes earlier, but if you'd like to

come inside and wait with the boy, my lord, I'll run to the cabinet shop

and see if he has returned."

Amazed at her perception, William stepped inside where he could look at

her more closely.
 
Noting the delicately refined features and the

wedding band on the third finger of her left hand, he arched a brow at

her.
 
"You know who I am?"

Shemaine laid her hands on the boy's shoulders.
 
"I believe you're

Andrew's grandfather .
 
.
 
.
 
and my husband's father."

William's lips tightened slightly as he sought to hide his irritation.

The gossipmonger was right!
 
Not only had Gage gotten into some kind of

trouble over his first wife, but he had given his name to a convicted

felon.
 
Still, the girl was far more observant and obviously a lot

smarter than he had expected a common criminal to be.

"Does it disturb you that your son and I are married?" Shemaine asked

quietly.

His inquiry was far more blunt.
 
"Are you the convict Mrs. Pettycomb

told me about?"

Shemaine lifted her chin in defiance.
 
"Would it matter to you that I

was unjustly condemned?"

"It might, if there was a way of proving your innocence, but the

colonies are a long way from England, and I would presume there is no

one here who can confirm what you say," William answered crisply.
 
"No

father would fancy his son taking a criminal to wife, and I am no

different."

"Fancy it or not, my lord, the deed is done," she murmured.
 
"And

there'll be no undoing the vows unless you would have your son set me

aside with an annulment.
 
I'll tell you truly, though, tis gone too far

for that."

"My son has already proven he has a mind of his own," William stated

tersely, and then heaved a sigh as he remembered his last altercation

with Gage.
 
It had taken several years before the truth had come out,

but he had been struck by the loneliness of his loss from the first. "It

wouldn't matter what I may advise, Gage will do what he thinks best, and

I'm sure he would be reluctant to give up a young woman as winsome as

you despite the crimes you may have committed in the past."' Aware of

the antagonism sprouting between them, Shemaine felt her heart grow cold

with dread.
 
This man had set his mind to the fact that she was a felon,

and nothing short of proving her integrity would content him.

It was the same kind of trap in which she had found herself after being

arrested by Ned, the thieftaker.
 
Though she had been innocent of all

that little man had claimed, no magistrate had been willing to believe

her.

"Will you stay with Andrew while I go out to see if Gage is here?"

As his lordship nodded, Shemaine swept her hand to indicate the settee.

"You may sit down if you'd like.
 
I won't be long."

Andrew balked at the idea of being left with a stranger and let out a

shriek of fear when Shemaine started toward the door.
 
He ran after her,

and though she sought to console him, the boy clung to her in

desperation.
 
William was closely attentive to her soothing words as she

caressed the boy's cheek and took his small hand in hers.

"I'm sorry, my lord," she apologized.
 
"Andrew doesn't care to stay with

you right now.
 
After he gets to know you better, he'll be more willing

to make friends."

"I understand."

As they left the cabin, William leaned back on the settee and looked

around at the interior.
 
Recognizing excellence when he saw it, he was

overwhelmed at the high quality of workmanship in every item of

furniture his eyes touched upon.
 
After he had been put ashore with his

trunk and had enlisted Gillian's aid in carrying the chest to the porch,

he had paused near the building slip to admire the half-finished vessel

and to question the old man, Flannery, about his son's design. The two

shipwrights had been eager to show him through the vessel and had been

just as quick to laud the praises of their employer.
 
His heart had

swelled with pride as he took everything in and finally began to

comprehend what Gage had once tried to talk him into building in

England.
 
After nearly ten years' estrangement from his son, looking at

what Gage had created was almost as enlightening as finally being able

to understand why his son had left the family home and England.

Three years short a day from the time Gage had left, Christine had

succumbed to a bout of pneumonia (or a broken heart, as she had

raspingly maintained).
 
On her deathbed, she had tearfully confessed to

her father that she had been so enamored of Gage that she had sought to

entrap him in marriage by claiming he had gotten her with child.
 
She

had died a virgin, having sullied her own name, but, according to her,

she had deemed her attempt well worth the price, for she had never

wanted another man as much as she had wanted Gage Thornton.

After her funeral, her father had beseeched William to forgive his

family for bringing about the alienation of his son, but in his long and

frustrating search, William had come to realize that it had probably

been his own prideful stubbornness that had brought about the rift.
 
He

had been so determined to force his son to obey him that he had been

unwilling to entertain the possibility that Gage might have been an

innocent pawn in the lady's game.

The back door opened again, and William rose to his feet in anxious

haste as Gage strode down the corridor toward the parlor.
 
It was the

father rather than the son who quickly traversed the space between them

and, through welling tears, gazed upon the younger.
 
It was an older,

more mature face the father saw, but with its bronze skin and leanly

chiseled features, it was even more handsome than before. In it, William

saw a strong duplication of his own, except for his advancing years and

the yearning regret that had exacted a harsh toll, leaving deep creases

across his brow and a poignant sadness in the lines around his mouth.

"I nearly gave up all hope of finding you," William managed to choke out

through a gathering thickness in his throat.
 
His stoic demeanor began

to waver, and he clasped Gage's shoulders and shook him gently as if in

a desperate effort to make him understand how deeply he had been missed.

"I've searched for you all these many years without success and have

sent men to the far reaches of the world in a hopeless quest to find

you.
 
It was only through a chance meeting that I happened upon the man

who had captained the ship on which you had sailed.
 
My dear son, can

you ever forgive me for driving you away from our home?"

Gage was astounded at the emotion visible in his father's face. He had

never thought he would see the elder so vulnerable and humble. It was a

side of William Thornton that he had never seen before.
 
His mother had

died after his twelfth birthday, and the pain of her loss had seemed to

harden his father, turning him into a tough disciplinarian.
 
Now here

the elder stood, almost sobbing with joy over their reunion.

The change was so great, Gage felt at odds with himself and a bit

cautious about how he should react.
 
He wanted to wrap his arms about

his sire and clasp him firmly to his breast in a hearty embrace, but he

felt strange and clumsy doing so until his father responded in kind.

 
"My son!
 
My son!" William wept against his shoulder.

The back door creaked open, and Andrew came running in.
 
He halted

abruptly when he saw the stranger still in the parlor.
 
The two men

turned to the boy, and Andrew noticed a strange wetness in his father's

eyes.

"Daddee, yu cry?" he asked in amazement.

In some embarrassment, Gage brushed a hand across his face before he

lifted his son in his arms and presented him to his grandfather. "Andy,

this is my father, my daddy .
 
.
 
.
 
and your grandfather, your

grandpa."

"Gran'pa?" Andrew looked at the elder curiously.
 
Malcolm and Duncan had

a grandpa who frequently visited them, but his father had never told him

before now that he had one, too.

William held out his arms to take the boy, but Andrew pressed back

against his father's shoulder and shook his head.

"Where's Mommy?" Gage queried, realizing that Shemaine had not come in

with Andrew.

The boy waved his arm, pointing toward the back.
 
"Mommee Sheeaim on

porch."

Gage put his son down and, with gentle firmness, bade him to stay.

"Wait here with your grandfather, Andy.
 
I'm just going out to the

porch.

I'll be right back."

Gage stepped out the rear door and glanced down the lane toward the

workshop before he realized that Shemaine was huddled in a knot in a

chair at the far end of the porch.
 
Her knees were drawn up close

beneath her chin and her arms were folded around her legs, holding them

to her chest.
 
As he approached, she cast him a shy glance that clearly

bespoke of her trepidation.
 
He squatted on his haunches beside her and

peered up at her for a long moment, noting the wetness in the silken

lashes.
 
Reaching out, he claimed a slender hand and drew the trembling