Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage] (26 page)

“Can’t you see how much they care for each other?” Sir Lee demanded.

“I don’t give a fig. Grandson or not, I’ll see him hang!” Turning, her father stormed from the room.

Edwina hugged Prescott even tighter, hoping to impart all of her love and caring in that connection, knowing he must be going through hell.

Sir Lee’s steps were hesitant. “Can you ever forgive me, son?”

Edwina held her breath.

Prescott was silent for a long moment, then he slowly pulled away from her. Reluctantly she released him and stepped aside, keeping a hand on his shoulder. Her heart wept for his pain.

With his brow furrowed, Prescott shook his head. “You knew. You knew all along, didn’t you?”

“No, not until I came here. Not until I saw you.” With his eyes glistening with tears, Sir Lee’s brow rutted with grief. “You’re the spitting image of her…” He nodded, fresh tears spilling down his weathered cheeks like rivers of sorrow. “When I saw you I knew. But before then…I didn’t know about you, I swear…”

The old gent dropped onto the ottoman as if his knees couldn’t hold him any longer. His shoulders were hunched, his head dropped to his chin; he looked almost crushed by the weight of his sorrow. “My daughter died hating me. Hating me so much, she didn’t tell me I’d had a grandson. I can’t blame her. For any man who was heartless enough to cut off his own flesh and blood could hardly be trusted with such a precious gift…” He choked, overcome, pulling a linen from his
coat and covering his eyes. “She never knew how sorry I was. How much I regretted…”

Edwina’s heart ached for the man, for the tragedy he’d caused, endured, and suffered still.

Looking up, Sir Lee sniffed. “I didn’t even know she was dead until weeks after she’d gone.” He laughed, but it was a cheerless sound. “Me, the commander of a hundred intelligence officers, master of a thousand secrets, and I didn’t even know my daughter lay dying…I didn’t know that my grandson, my only flesh and blood was being left in the care of strangers. I was a fool. A stupid, headstrong fool.”

Sobbing openly, the man hung his head, his bony shoulders shaking with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Prescott, so terribly sorry…”

Funereal silence draped over them, the pain and heartache of a thousand regrets choking the air.

Shrugging off Edwina’s hand, Prescott moved toward his grandfather.

She stepped aside, her hands clasped before her, prayerful, hoping beyond all hope that this ordeal might turn out well.

“I’ve fantasized about this moment a million times in my head.” Prescott’s tone was flat, emotionless. “The moment when I would tell the man who destroyed my mother’s dreams, left us to die in poverty…that I didn’t need him, that I came out just fine. That he could take his lousy family and bugger off.”

Sir Lee’s tear-stained face was bleak and filled with shame. “I don’t blame you, son…”

“But I can’t.”

Sir Lee looked up, hope in his green gaze.

Blinking as if surprised, Prescott shook his head.
“You’re a shrewd sod, I’ll hand you that. You let me know you, like you even. I’ve had the chance to hear your words, to hearken to your advice, to understand you…”

Sir Lee wiped his eyes and sat a little straighter.

“I know you enough now,” Prescott continued, “that I can’t ignore your sorrow. I can’t dismiss your remorse. I can’t doubt…that you truly regret it all.”

Sir Lee rose. “I would give my life ten times over to have done it differently…To have saved you from all you’ve suffered…I know that I’m too late, offering too little…” Swallowing, Sir Lee extended a shaky hand. “But can you ever forgive me?”

Prescott brushed aside his grandfather’s outstretched hand and threw his arms around him.

Sir Lee burst into tears, holding Prescott so closely, shaking, crying and hugging Prescott so tight as if to never let him go.

Edwina’s vision swam with tears.

“There’s been too much overindulged pride.” Prescott’s voice was thick with emotion. “Too much heartache.”

Hugging his grandfather, Prescott looked over his shoulder, his gaze meeting Edwina’s with such intensity her breath caught. “I’m ready for a family to call my own.”

A
few hours later, Edwina stood by the open window in her chambers, staring out at the moonlit sky. A multitude of stars sprinkled the horizon and Edwina wondered if she wished upon them, might her dreams come true.

She couldn’t quite erase the blazing intent in Prescott’s eyes or the ferocity in his voice when he’d said, “I’m ready for a family to call my own.”

The memory alone caused her stomach to jolt and her heart to flutter. Could he have meant with her? Dare she hope to dream?

She knew that it wasn’t matrimony that didn’t suit her, but marriage to Sir Geoffrey. Or anyone who tried to “manage” or control her.

But Prescott wasn’t like that. He understood her, accepted her and wouldn’t ever try to rule her. She knew it deep in her heart. In fact, he supported her and the
things that were important to her. He didn’t disdain The Society for the Enrichment and Learning of Females. Instead, he understood the issues she was facing and helped provide her with tools so that she could manage well enough for herself. Like when he’d introduced her to Mr. Leonard to help with the new applicants. His support was remarkable, actually. As was he.

When she was with him, she felt herself, she felt free, she felt respected and cared for, and so blessedly happy she might as well be one of those stars shooting through the midnight sky.

The idea of being married to him, of being with him forever, caused a sweet reverberation deep in her soul. It felt right. It felt better than any hope she could have wished for.

Still, he hadn’t asked. And, come to think of it, he’d been prepared to end everything. Granted he’d intended it to prevent strife with her family. But still, he’d been very willing to make the sacrifice.

She frowned. A little too willing, perhaps? Prescott hadn’t wanted her to marry Viscount Bellwood, but that didn’t mean that he was willing to pop the question himself.

Mayhap she was hearing wedding bells when there were merely chirping crickets? Seeing nuptial bands where there were only the rings of smoke from one of Sir Lee’s cigars? She knew that he cared for her, admired her even, but that might be sufficient for an affair, not necessarily matrimony. Could that be enough? She wondered.

Then there was the matter of her father. Her stomach sank. Her raging bull of a father was calling for Prescott
to be hauled before the magistrate. Drawn and quartered, hanged, whipped until he collapsed.

Edwina rubbed her temple as a sudden piercing headache came upon her. She’d better think about keeping her lover’s head out of a noose, not daydream about shackling his leg in matrimony. Where was her usual good sense? A plan. She needed a plan. Mayhap a list would help.

Stepping over to the secretary, she pulled out a scrap of foolscap, and her writing instruments. She sat, readied, and…nothing came. Not a blessed word entered her mind. Like the foolscap before her, her mind was wretchedly blank. The only thing she could think of was how desperately she loved Prescott and one couldn’t make a list for that.

“Nay.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. She needed a list of…what? Things she loved about him? Admired him for? If she wrote it would her father read it and change his mind? She snorted, feeling desperate. Her father
never
changed his mind. The only thing that might help was if she threw herself on her father’s mercy, offered to end the affair to save Prescott’s neck…

The very thought of never seeing Prescott again, of never hearing his deep rumbling voice, never again enjoying his dry wit, never smelling his rich, musky scent…There would be no more watching him laugh with her dearest friends, no more touching his velvety skin or kissing his smooth lips or loving him. Never again to enjoy his charming company or feel that amazing sense of confidence that she experienced whenever he was near. Never to have that beautiful sensation of harmony when they touched, when they said the same
thing at once or when they communicated without the need for words…

The thought of missing all that, of never again being with Prescott caused such heartache she didn’t know if she could breathe.

But to save his life…? To rescue him from the hangman’s noose? The whip…?

She shuddered. It was a devil’s bargain for sure, but she would do it, to spare the man she loved.

Grimacing, she slowly dipped her quill and wrote,

Matrimony.
Then she crossed it out with a thick “x.”

Affair.
Then she crossed it out with a thick “x.”

Nothing.

She stared at the page a long, miserable moment, wondering if she’d be able to endure it. Her heart felt leaden, her eyes burned with unshed tears.

A knock resounded on the door.

Instinctively, Edwina crumpled up the foolscap and shoved it into a drawer. “Come.”

“Edwina!” Ginny swept into the room, panting as if she’d run all the way from her rooms. She clutched a leather reticule to her chest, an odd thing to be carrying about the Kendrick manor.

Closing the door behind her, Ginny practically skipped across the carpet, her arthritic hip giving her a bit of a hop. “Oh, Edwina! I must tell you the most wonderful news!” The matron’s rosy-cheeked face was brimming with excitement. “I can hardly believe it!”

“So you’ve heard?”

“Heard what?”

“About Sir Lee being Prescott’s grandfather.”

Ginny’s pale blue eyes widened. “Why that’s wonderful!”

“If you hadn’t heard then…?”

Holding up the satchel, Ginny cried, “You’ll not believe what I found on my bed just moments ago!”

“Your reticule?”

“Don’t be silly!” Reaching into the bag, Ginny pulled out a packet of letters wrapped with a long, fox-colored ribbon. “My letters! To Gérardin!”

“But how…?”

Ginny shook her head with wonder. “I’ve no earthly idea. They were simply lying there with a note saying that I would no longer be bothered by that wretched blackmailer again. I didn’t receive any demands or make that five-hundred-pound payment! I don’t even know who left them!” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “It’s a miracle. My Judith is saved.”

Edwina wrapped her arms around her dear friend, hugging her close. “I’m so happy for you.”

“It’s all been such a terrible nightmare.” Pulling away, Ginny shook her head, wiping her eyes. “I almost can’t believe it’s over.”

“You need to burn those letters, Ginny, you know that.”

“I do.” Ginny stared at the packet of letters, her face wistful. “But I would very much like to read them once more…”

“I understand they mean a lot to you, but we have a chance now, before anyone else could possibly see them…”

Ginny grasped Edwina’s hand. “May I read them here? Will you stay with me? Then we will burn them together. Tonight. And hopefully Janelle and Prescott will join us. It would only be fitting.”

Edwina hesitated. Her father couldn’t do anything
within the next half hour, could he? It was unlikely, especially since Lady Kendrick had promised to work upon him. She’d told Edwina that she would do her best to calm him down and dissuade him from acting in anger. Edwina didn’t have much confidence that Lady Kendrick could sway her father completely, but mayhap she could persuade him to not press charges? Then there wouldn’t be any devil’s bargain! She wouldn’t have to offer to give up Prescott.

Yes, Lady Kendrick needed time to convince Edwina’s father to settle down and consider his actions. There was no point in pressing the matter before then.

Edwina squeezed Ginny’s hand. “Of course I will stay while you read them.”

Ginny stepped over to the armchair, dropped her reticule and sat. Untying the fox-colored ribbon, she slowly unfolded the first letter and began to read. Her gaze grew dreamy, a secret smile on her lips.

Feeling like a voyeur, Edwina turned away and stared out the window, wondering what it must be like to have loved so deeply and yet to have been forced apart. Ginny seemed to have survived it. If Lady Kendrick failed, perhaps so could she? Would she and Prescott exchange letters? Reminisce over their time spent together?

Edwina’s heart skipped a beat. One of the reasons Ginny had begun her correspondence with Gérardin was to tell him about their child. Was it possible that she and Prescott…in their time together…?

A child would change everything.

Thank God she hadn’t gone to see her father yet!

If she was indeed with child, she couldn’t ever deny the babe its wonderful father. Any more than she could
keep the news from Prescott, knowing deep in her heart that he would want to be the father he’d never had.

Oh, dear Lord…What am I to do?

A knock resounded on the door and Edwina’s eyes flew to Ginny’s. Ginny quickly stuffed the letters beneath her hip and only when they were all out of sight did Edwina call, “Come.”

Prescott opened the door and strode into the room, looking more relaxed, happier even, than Edwina had ever seen him. His broad forehead was smooth, his eyes bright and his lips lifted in a half smile.

Her heart skipped a beat and danced with that special joy whenever he was near.

She rushed over to him. “Are you all right?” He and Sir Lee had gone off to become reacquainted, now as grandfather and grandson.

Wrapping his arms around her, Prescott hugged her close. “Astoundingly, I’m doing well. Better than I ever thought I would under the circumstances.”

“I can’t believe how remarkably you’re handing this. If it were me, I’d be needing smelling salts every three minutes.”

“Rubbish.” He kissed her temple. “You’re hardier than you look. Don’t forget, I saw you standing up to the great Earl of Wootton-Barrett.” His brawny arms squeezed her tighter. “You were magnificent, defending me…it was inspiring.”

Pressing her nose into his shoulder, she murmured, “I was shaking in my shoes.”

“Still, you weren’t cowed.”

Pulling back, she met his eyes. “I’m so sorry how abominable he was to you.”

“Regardless, I shouldn’t have corked him.”

“You struck the Earl of Wootton-Barrett?” Ginny cried, standing.

“Ginny!” Prescott released Edwina, but then snaked his arm around her waist hugging her close. “My apologies, I didn’t see you there.”

“I was reading.” Holding up a packet tied with a fox-colored ribbon, she beamed. “My correspondence with Gérardin. Every last letter. Some beneficent soul left them on my bed with a note saying that I would be bothered no more.”

“Hmmm.” Prescott scratched his chin as an odd thought suddenly struck him. Sir Lee hadn’t known about Prescott, not until seeing him at the house party. So why had Sir Lee ventured to this house party when he’d been telling Prescott how much he hated leaving London? London was where the action was, he’d said. Unless the “action” had moved to the country for Sir Lee?

When Sir Lee had searched Prescott’s rooms, he’d done so with admirable expertise. If it hadn’t been for the bookmark in Prescott’s Bible, Prescott might never have known about the inspection. And now, knowing how affected Sir Lee had been by the discovery, Prescott had no doubt that in other circumstances he never would have been able to detect Sir Lee’s search. Sir Lee wasn’t quite as harmless as he’d like everyone to think…

Prescott pursed his lips, his ideas coalescing. Since the confrontation with Wootton-Barrett in the salon, Prescott and Sir Lee had sat in the garden trying to bridge an almost thirty-year gap. Then, about forty-five minutes ago the old gent had begged off, saying that
he’d had too much excitement for the day and needed to rest. Prescott had remained behind to gather his thoughts.

“When were the letters returned, Ginny?” Prescott asked.

Ginny’s brow furrowed. “Um, it couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes ago. The maid was called downstairs and then sent to come get me. So whoever left them had the room to himself for a few moments.”

It seemed too much of a coincidence. Sir Lee hadn’t seemed taken aback in the least when mentioning the blackmail scheme. He’d said that he’d wanted to put himself “to good use” in his old age. Be on the side of good so he could sleep better at night. Edwina had wondered if anyone else at the house party was a victim of the blackmailer. They’d never considered that they might not be the only ones
hunting
the blackmailer.

Edwina looked up at him, her eyes concerned. “Is something bothering you, Prescott?”

“There you are!” Janelle rushed into the room looking frazzled. “Have you heard the news? Two Bow Street Runners just hauled off Mr. Todd, but they kept calling him Mr. Quince!”

“Mr. Todd?” Ginny gasped. “But I thought he was from Nottingham?”

Panting, Janelle fanned her face. “He was newly to London and no one checked in Nottingham to know for certain.”

“He moves in the very circles we were focusing on.” Edwina nodded. “And he was on our list.”

Janelle motioned for Edwina to stop talking. “But the officers kept calling him Mr. Quince! They said
that Todd was an alias for Quince! A secret identity! But even more intriguing, these officers weren’t the Bow Street Runners we’d hired! They were two entirely different men!”

Ginny bit her thumbnail. “So you think these Bow Street Runners are the ones who returned my letters? How did they learn of the blackmail?”

“You have your letters back?” Janelle cried. “Even better!”

“Mayhap our supposition that there were other victims was true and they retained the police officers?” Edwina offered. But she shook her head, her gaze doubtful. “It makes sense, but if the letters are evidence, why would they return them?”

Prescott definitely wanted to have a word with his grandfather. Sir Lee was just the sort to “tidy up” on behalf of his friends, thank the heavens. Hugging Edwina’s waist, he nodded. “I’m sure all will be known in due time.”
Once I speak with Sir Lee.
“For now, let us celebrate the return of Ginny’s letters and Mr. Todd’s arrest.”

“We do have much to celebrate!” Janelle added, with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m so very glad for you about your grandfather. I always liked Sir Lee. A very agreeable man.”

Prescott tilted his head. “Not always, it seemed.”