Schulze, Dallas (12 page)

Bishop felt a twinge of admiration for the boy’s courage. There
weren’t many adults who’d have risked drawing Louise’s wrath.

“Of course we care,” George said hastily. “Don’t we, my dear?”

“Not in the least,” she said with icy indifference. “Why would I
care about the opinion of an ungrateful boy such as yourself?”

Gavin shifted so that he faced his grandmother more directly. “Why
should I be grateful? You only keep us ’cause
he
doesn’t want us.” A
jerk of his head indicated Bishop. “And you figure people would say bad things
about you if you didn’t take us in.”

The bitterness in his son’s voice made Bishop wince. It had been a
mistake to leave the children here. He’d known it at the time but, after
Isabelle died, he hadn’t known what else to do with them. He had no family of
his own. He rarely stayed in one place more than a few weeks or months. He’d
had no way to care for an infant and a seven-year-old boy. So, when Louise had
offered to take them in, he’d gone against his better judgment and agreed.

“Go to your room,” Louise told the boy in a chillingly calm voice.
“I’ll deal with you later.”

“Wait.” Bishop spoke for the first time since the children entered
the room. He stepped forward and set his hand on Gavin’s shoulder, turning so
that he faced the old woman. “You’ll
deal
with him? Now who’s issuing
threats?” he questioned softly.

“As long as he is under my roof, I will deal with him as I see
fit. As I told you once before, you do not give orders in this house. Gavin, go
to your room.”

Gavin’s shoulder was rigid with tension beneath Bishop’s hand but
he didn’t say anything. It was clear that he expected no help from his father.
It struck Bishop suddenly that, when he’d been Gavin’s age, he’d been able to
turn to his own father if he found himself in a situation he couldn’t handle.
Looking down, he saw Angelique creep forward and slip her hand into her
brother’s, saw Gavin’s fingers close almost convulsively over hers.

“Go to your room and pack your things,” he said. “Get Mary to help
you. You’re both coming with me.”

Gavin’s head jerked around and he stared up at his father, his
eyes round with shock. “Do you mean it?”

“I mean it.”

And God help him when Lila found herself a stepmother to two
children she hadn’t even known existed.

***

Lila finished pinning the heavy mass of her hair into a roll at
the back of her head. The simple hairstyle wasn’t particularly fashionable, but
it was neat and tidy. Surely one of the benefits of being a married woman was
the freedom to choose comfort over fashion, at least occasionally.

Standing back from the mirror, she studied her reflection and was
reasonably satisfied with what she saw. The gown was one of her favorites. The
Prussian blue muslin was simply but elegantly cut, close-fitting through the
bodice with the back of the skirt gathered into elegant folds that dropped to a
hem trimmed with crisp, knife-edge pleats. The color suited her, making the
most of her eyes and hair. Though she would have died before admitting as much,
she wanted to look her best when Bishop returned. Considering the bedraggled
creature he’d left behind, her pride demanded it.

She gave one last pat to her hair before turning away from the
mirror. She was feeling in better charity with her husband than she would have
believed possible. Not only had he sent up the tea and crackers he’d insisted
she have, but he’d also arranged for bath water to be brought to her. The tea
and crackers had settled her stomach, though she’d certainly never tell Bishop
that. But it was the bath that had made her feel as if she just might live to
see another day. She was even feeling a bit hungry, which was something of a
miracle considering how she’d felt a few hours ago. Lunch in the hotel dining
room sounded quite pleasant. Bathed, freshly gowned, and properly coif-fed, she
could face the thought of dining with her new husband with equanimity.

As if in answer to her thoughts, Lila heard the sound of a key in
the lock. She turned toward the sound, aware of a feeling of anticipation.
Bishop pushed open the door and stepped inside.

“I was starting to think you might have forgotten me,” she said
lightly. She’d determined to try to put their relationship on a more pleasant
footing than it had so far enjoyed.

Bishop didn’t respond immediately. He simply stood in the open
door, a rather odd expression on his face. “I have something to tell you.”

Lila raised her brows. “Is something wrong?” “No.” But he didn’t
sound too sure.

Before she could question him further, he shifted to one side and
gestured two children into the room— a boy of about twelve, with thick black
hair and vivid blue eyes, and an exquisitely beautiful little girl of four or
five with hair the color of newly minted gold. Her eyes were blue also but they
were a softer, gentler shade. The children stood next to Bishop, looking at
her—the boy with a wariness older than his years, the little girl with the kind
of open curiosity possible only in the very young. Lila looked back at them, wondering
who they might be and why they were with Bishop. The boy looked familiar,
though she was sure she’d never met him before.

She looked from them to Bishop. He opened his mouth—to offer an
explanation? But before he could say anything, the little girl tugged at the
hem of his coat.

“Who’s that lady, Papa?”

Papa?

When she was a girl, Lila had been thrown from a horse and had hit
the ground with force enough to knock the breath from her. She had a similar
feeling right now.

“This is Lila,” Bishop told the child without taking his eyes from
Lila’s face. “Lila, these are my children. Gavin and Angelique.”

“Your children?” Lila repeated blankly. He had children? She was
still struggling to absorb that idea when Bishop dropped his next bit of news.

“They’re going with us.”

"Going with us? To Paris?” She must have misunderstood him,
Lila thought. He couldn’t have said that these were his children. And, most
especially, he couldn’t have said that these same children were going to be
traveling with them, which meant—Good Lord, did that mean the children were
going to be
living
with them?

“I’ve arranged for another room for the children,” Bishop said,
dispelling any hope that she’d misunderstood. “We’ll be leaving on tomorrow’s
train.”

“Oh.” Lila struggled to adjust her thinking. She looked at the
children. They looked as bewildered as she felt, and Lila’s heart went out to
them. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t their doing. She knew exactly where the
blame lay, and she’d deal with
him
later. She conjured up a smile,
hoping it didn’t look as false as it felt, and moved forward.

“Well, Gavin and... and Angelique, I’m very pleased to meet you.
I’m Lila, your... father’s new wife.” She couldn’t quite manage the word
“stepmother.” Not yet. She held out her hand to Gavin, who took it after a
slight but perceptible hesitation.

“Pleased to meet you,” he mumbled in a tone so lacking in
sincerity that Lila’s smile became genuine. Clearly he was versed in the polite
forms but young enough to lack the guile to project false emotions. It was too
bad his father didn’t share his son’s honesty. She shot Bishop a dark look
before turning her attention to the little girl.

“And you’re Angelique. That’s a very pretty name.”

“Angel,” the child said. She was holding her brother’s hand, her
eyes reflecting uncertainty.

“Angel?” Lila questioned.

“She means her name is Angel,” Gavin clarified. “She can’t say
Angelique so everybody calls her Angel.”

“I’ve never seen a lady with hair like yours before,” Angel said,
curiosity overcoming her shyness.

“Like mine?” Lila lifted one hand to her hair.

“It’s looks like it’s on fire.”

“Does it?” Lila smiled, thinking that it was her temper rather
than her hair that was burning. “Well, I’ve never seen a real, live angel
before, so this is a first for both of us, isn’t it?”

“I isn’t an angel,” the little girl said, giggling. “That’s just
my name.”

“My mistake. But you look so much like an angel, how was I to
know?”

Angel giggled again and hid her face against her brother’s side.
When Lila straightened, she caught Gavin’s eye. Though his expression couldn’t
be termed friendly, he seemed a little less wary. It was easy to see that he
and his sister were close. If she wanted to win him over, she’d obviously have
to win his sister over first. And heaven help her, it looked as if she were
going to need to win them both over.

***

“How could you?” Lila leaned across the table, glaring at Bishop.
“How could you just show up with those children in tow and announce that they
were going with us?”

“I didn’t have much choice.” Bishop lifted his cup, wishing it
contained something stronger than coffee.

They were sitting in the hotel dining room, the remains of their
barely touched meals on the table in front of them. It had been his suggestion
that they have lunch as planned even though the plan hadn’t originally included
Gavin and Angelique. The four of them had eaten in near silence.

Lila’s efforts to draw the children out had met with limited
success. Angel was willing to be friendly but Gavin was uncommunicative to the
point of being sullen. He spoke only when addressed directly and, even then,
his responses were monosyllabic. At that, he spoke more than his father.

When the children had finished their meals, Bishop gave Gavin a
quarter and told him to take his sister to the emporium across the street and
get them both some candy. From Gavin’s expression, it was clear that he
recognized the gesture for exactly what it was—an excuse to get him and his
sister out of the way so the adults could talk. But he took Angel’s hand and
did as he was told.

From across the table, Bishop had felt Lila’s simmering anger. On
the rare occasions that their glances crossed, her eyes had promised
retribution, but she hadn’t, by word or deed, done anything to make the
children feel unwelcome.

“I appreciate your kindness to the children,” he told her.

“What did you expect me to do? Tell them the truth, which was that
I didn’t even know they existed until you walked in the door with them?”

“I hadn’t planned on doing things this way.” He signaled the
waiter for another cup of coffee. “I was going to send for them later, after
the baby was born. I thought that would be easier for you. But they couldn’t
stay where they were anymore.”

“How kind of you to consider me,” she said in a tone of sweet
insincerity. “And just where were they? I don’t have a great deal of experience
with children, but I don’t believe it’s customary to store them away like old
trunks. Someone must have been taking care of them.”

Bishop’s jaw tightened at her sarcasm but he couldn’t deny that
she had ample justification for her anger. “They’ve been with their
grandparents.”

The waiter arrived just then to refill Bishop’s cup and Lila
waited until he’d left before speaking again. “Would that be your parents? Or
their mother’s? And where
is
their mother? I do hope you’re not going to
surprise me again by telling me that you already have a wife. Surely Douglas
would have mentioned that, even if the children slipped his mind.”

“Douglas doesn’t know anything about the children or their mother.
Isabelle died giving birth to Angelique,” he said shortly. “They’ve been
staying with her mother and father since her death. But it was no longer a ...
suitable arrangement.”

Lila stared at him, at a loss for words. None of her mother’s many
lessons in deportment and manners had dealt with the proper response to a
situation like this. Was she supposed to express her regrets for his first
wife’s death, a wife she hadn’t even known existed until barely an hour ago?
Was she supposed to smile graciously and tell him that she was delighted to
find herself stepmother to a little girl—and a halfgrown boy who was clearly no
happier about the situation than she was?

Not that what she said was important. Obviously, nothing was going
to change his mind. The children were going with them and that was all there
was to it. She was just going to have to get used to the idea, right along with
being married to a man she didn’t know and carrying a child she wasn’t prepared
for. To her dismay, Lila felt her eyes burn with sudden tears. She was not,
ordinarily, a woman who cried often. But lately she’d found herself feeling
weepy over nothing at all. And this certainly qualified as more than nothing.
She forced She tears back with sheer willpower.

“It seems everything has worked out quite nicely, hasn’t it?” she
said evenly.

“What has?”

“I had wondered why you came back,” she continued as if he hadn’t
spoken. “After all, if you’d stayed away, no one would have known what had
happened between us.”

“I came back because you were carrying my child and I wasn’t going
to let another man raise it.”