The Bride's Secret (30 page)

Fordyce fell into step beside her. “Any word when Lord Rutledge is coming home?”

She shook her head. She had grown so tired of hearing that same question.

“I must commend you on your wisdom in selecting Miss Kenworth. She's extremely capable,” he said.

“I cannot deny she is well qualified. What has been serendipitous—for Stevie, especially—is her unequaled good nature. Finding Miss Kenworth has, indeed, been a blessing for all of us.”

“By Jove! That's it!” he exclaimed. “She's gifted with uncommon good nature.”

Carlotta stole a glance at him. Could Mr. Fordyce be falling in love with the pleasant nurse?
How devilishly wonderful!
“'Twould be difficult to imagine Miss Kenworth ever being in an ill humor.”

“And she is singularly intelligent,” he added. “Especially for one as young, and as delicate as Miss. Kenworth.”

Miss Kenworth delicate!
Carlotta willed herself not to laugh.

Mr. Fordyce slowed his pace. “It was obvious to me when Lord Rutledge was here that you love him very much.”

She sighed. “I do.”

He cleared his throat. “Such an observation came to me because I seem to have love and marriage on my own mind a great deal as of late.”

She kept walking and spoke calmly. “Since Miss Kenworth has come to Yarmouth?”

“Exactly.”

“Methinks, perhaps, you've fallen in love, Mr. Fordyce.”

“I believe you to be right, my lady. The question is, what shall I do about it?”

She slowed her step. “Should you wish to marry the lady?”

“I do, indeed.”

Carlotta slowed her step and directed a smile at him. “Why, then, you've only to ask her!”

“But I should be ever so humiliated were she to turn me down. After all, it's not as if I don't have to see her every day of my life.”

Carlotta stopped and looked up at him. “But, Mr. Fordyce, I really don't believe Miss Kenworth
will
turn you down.”

“She's spoken to you?” he asked hopefully.

Her shoulders slumped. “No, but I can tell by her demeanor, the same way you could tell from mine how greatly I love James.”
Even if he does not love me.
She would always love James.

He looked suspiciously at her. “Would that I could believe you.”

Carlotta set a hand on his arm. “Trust in me.”

Then, without talking, the two of them set off walking again.

At length, Carlotta said, “Why do you not ask her?”

“I'm not very knowledgeable about matters of the heart. I know one is supposed to ask the maiden's father, but since Miss Kenworth's father is deceased, I'm not sure how I should go about this.”

“Just ask her. Miss Kenworth's mature enough to know her own mind.”

“I've never been so nervous.”

“Allow me to send her down. The quicker you do it, the sooner it will be over with.”

“Do you really believe she will favor my suit?”

Carlotta had turned to walk away. She stopped and pivoted back to him. “I know not what Miss Kenworth's opinions are on marriage, but I believe she would entertain your suit above all others.”

He sighed. “Very well.”

Carlotta tiptoed into her son's room, where Miss Kenworth, reading a book, sat beside his bed. “How is he?” Carlotta whispered.

“There's been no change, my lady,” Miss Kenworth answered.

“Allow me to relieve you now,” Carlotta said. “Mr. Fordyce is in the parterre garden, and has asked me to ask you to join him.”

Miss Kenworth's hand automatically flew to her hair. “Me, my lady?” she asked with surprise.

It was all Carlotta could do not to blurt out the secretary's intentions, but she dare not relieve him of that pleasure. “Yes. You two have become rather good friends, have you not?”

Miss Kenworth spoke shyly. “I should like to think we have.”

“Then go on with you!”

“Are you sure you can spare me?”

“I'm sure.”

For a long time Carlotta sat there watching her son. He was so beautiful with his tawny hair and tawny skin and perfect little face. A pity he felt so wretched today. He continuously tossed and turned, throwing off his covers, sweat drenching his head. Then he would alternately begin to shiver and beg for the counterpane. She grew quite concerned, and finally rang for a servant.

Adams himself answered her ring.

“I need the doctor fetched,” she said, not without worry. “Master Stevie's quite ill.”

“I shall dispatch a man immediately, my lady,” Adams told her before he slipped quietly from the sick room.

No sooner had Adams left the room when Miss Kenworth—along with Mr. Fordyce—entered.

Carlotta glanced at their beaming faces and knew they came with good news. She stood up and, with her hands outstretched, went to greet them.

“I wanted you to be the first to know, my lady,” Miss Kenworth said.

Mr. Fordyce stepped forward. “Miss Kenworth has done me the goodness of accepting my offer of marriage.”

Carlotta smiled from one of them to the other. “I have every confidence you two will suit extremely well. Please accept my felicitations.” She took both their hands. “Will you marry in Middlesex, do you think?”

The betrothed couple looked at each other, and Miss Kenworth shrugged.

“You are welcome to marry at Yarmouth Hall,” Carlotta said.

“We have many decisions to make,” Mr. Fordyce said.

Carlotta shooed them toward the door. “Then you two run along now. I shan't be needing Miss Kenworth the remainder of the day.”

“But, my lady . . .” Miss Kenworth protested.

“The doctor's coming, and I should like to stay here with my son.”

After they left, Carlotta once again took up her position at Stevie's bedside. He broke into a fit of coughing, and she felt completely powerless to help him.
Poor little lamb
.

Soon Adams showed the doctor to Stevie's bed chamber. The middle-aged man, his medical bag in hand, entered the room.

“What are the lad's symptoms?” he asked gruffly.

“I thought yesterday he might be taking a chill for he began to cough. Then after church today, he began to run fever.”

The doctor set his hand on Stevie's forehead. “Has he eaten?”

She shook her head.

“What about liquids?”

“He has not wanted anything at all.”

“The lad's obviously suffering from a lung complaint,” the doctor said. “I shall give him an aqua cordial to cool the blood. He needs rest, of course—not that he's likely to go anywhere as wretched as he feels—and day after tomorrow he should be as good as new.”

“I hope you're right,” Carlotta said in a somber voice.

“The lad's too thin,” the doctor snapped, his eyes meeting Carlotta's. “When he gets well, you need to fatten him up.”

Her eyes somber, Carlotta nodded.

After administering the cordial, the doctor repacked the bag and moved toward the door. “If he's not well day after tomorrow, send for me.”

Chapter 30

James's journey back to Yarmouth was free of disturbances. It had seemed that every step of the way made him hunger more for the sight of Carlotta. But she was not the reason he was returning. Her son was.

When he had married Carlotta, he had agreed to raise Stevie as he would a son of his own. It wasn't fair to the lad to abandon him now that James had won his trust. It wasn't Stevie's fault his mother had misrepresented herself. James had never subscribed to the school of thought which blamed sons for the sins of their fathers. He had always been puzzled over the way bastards were ostracized, when it was not them—but their parents—who had sinned.

He dreaded facing Carlotta. James would be happy if he never had to behold her again. Perhaps happy was not the correct word.

The pull of Yarmouth Hall was strong. He had grown hungry for the sight of the hall and the Bagworthy Wood and River Barle and the heather on the moors.

Also, he had made a decision to close the mine, and it should be he—and not someone else—who should break the news to the colliers. He planned to adopt Carlotta's plan to re-establish the men in other professions.

Which brought to his mind those wretched diamonds. He wished Blankenship had died in the womb and never blackened Carlotta's life.

It was dusk when James rode Ebony up the broad avenue to Yarmouth. He thought it had never been more lovely. The rhododendrons were in full bloom now, and ribbons of bright yellow daffodils twisted about the entire landscape. Pride swept over him.

At Yarmouth, he went first to his secretary's office.

“My lord! You've returned,” the secretary said, springing to his feet to bow to his employer.

James picked up some papers off Fordyce's desk. “How have things gone on since I left?”

Fordyce was quick to tell his employer that Yarmouth had prospered in the countess's capable hands. He apprised James of the settlements made on the dead miner's families and of how much money her ladyship's unwanted diamond necklace had fetched.

“At first,” Fordyce told James, “everyone was distraught when you left, but they soon came to rely upon Lady Rutledge. If I might be so bold as to say it, I believe you could have searched the world over and never found another woman who so well blended with your own views, especially when dealing with underlings. Lady Rutledge is greatly admired by all who are employed by you.”

James, too, had thought he'd done well when he selected Carlotta for his bride. How was he to have guessed the dark secret she had kept hidden from him?

He felt as if he could slam his first into Fordyce's sturdy desk.

James nodded at his secretary and started to walk away.

“My lord?”

James turned back, a single brow cocked.

“Is her ladyship correct in her assumption that you will close the mine?”

Damn! Fordyce was right!
No other woman on the planet knew his thoughts like Carlotta. James slowly nodded. “It's what's right.”

Fordyce gazed somberly at him for a moment, then broke into a smile. “By the by, my lord, I have an announcement to make. Miss Kenworth has done me the goodness of accepting my offer of marriage.”

So Carlotta had been right about that, too
. James answered with a smile. “Miss Kenworth is, indeed, a most fortunate young lady. When is the ceremony to occur?”

“We have not gotten that far. I only declared myself yesterday. Lady Rutledge, kind, unselfish soul that she is, gave me the encouragement I needed.”

James's chest tightened at the mention of his wife. He supposed he could not put off his meeting with her any longer. “Do you happen to know where my wife is?”

Fordyce's eyes widened. “You have not seen her yet?”

“No.”

“She's in Master Stevie's room. He's taken ill.”

* * *

James's heart and lungs and stomach churning, he mounted the stairs to Stevie's room.

Carlotta stood by her son's bed, one hand stroking his fevered forehead, the other gripping his little fist. Her muslin day dress was a mass of wrinkles, and wisps of her midnight hair hung loose. She looked completely worn out, but more than that, grim worry was etched on her face, the face he had always loved to behold.

This was not how James had been picturing her. She was a seductress, not a loving mother.

She turned and looked at him, no emotion, save grief, on her face. “You've come home.” She said it simply, almost forlornly.

He nodded. “I cannot turn my back on my responsibilities here. I pledged to be a father to your son. I have returned because of him.” He stepped closer. “How is he?”

Her eyes watery, she glanced back to her son. “He's no better.”

James came to Carlotta's side. “Has he eaten?”

She shook her head woefully. “Food, even drink, is the last thing he wants.”

“When did he get sick?”

“Just yesterday—as we came from church in the carriage. Normally we walk, but I had thought to order the carriage because I perceived he had the beginnings of a lung complaint which, I thought, should necessitate being indoors.”

Carlotta had even begun to attend church services—something she had seldom done in Bath, he thought.

She looked up at James. “When Stevie gets well, we'll leave.”

“That won't be necessary,” he said curtly. “I'll have my things moved to the south wing. We shan't live together as man and wife, but I have no intentions of releasing my claims to the lad.”

“'Tis very kind of you, given the . . . circumstances of your estrangement from me.”

As he stood there glaring at her, with no more than a foot separating them, he could smell her lavender scent and take in her somber countenance, hear her gentle voice, and he would never have believed such a lady could have been mistress to a rake. He could almost believe Blankenship's claims.
Mrs. Ennis is a virtuous woman
. Almost. Were it not for Carlotta's own admission.

“You need to rest now,” he said, “I'll sit with the lad.”

She shook her head. “I'll not leave him.”

James shrugged. “As you wish.” Then he turned and left the room.

* * *

It was too dark now to go to the mines. He would do that in the morning. He would have to tell the miners the fate of the old mine. He took some consolation in the fact that the money Carlotta's necklace had fetched should go a long way in purchasing livestock for the farms Carlotta had hoped the miners would establish. He paused, a grin pinching at his somber face. The necklace, at least, had meant nothing to her.

During the agony of those days he had spent in Bath, he had tortured himself with the memory of Carlotta's words of love. They had come neither easily nor readily but when at last they came, they had come from the depths of her heart. More the pity.

In the hallway he passed Miss Kenworth who appeared to be bringing a tray of Stevie's favorite sweets to his chamber. “I'll wager the lad's too sick to desire those.”

Her plump face fell. “I daresay you're right, my lord, but I had to make the effort. Poor lamb.”

James nodded. “By the way, Miss Kenworth, allow me to offer felicitations on your forthcoming marriage.”