by Olivia Drake
He raised a brow in lazy interest. “Nothing could be odder than finding a dead man in my garden. But do go on.”
“It’s something Banfield said to me while I was bound and gagged in your coal cellar.”
“Had I known you were there…”
“Never mind that. He said that my unusual shade of blond hair is characteristic of a certain noble family. Your family.”
Every trace of idle humor vanished from Haviland’s face. He stared at her so hard that Tessa felt self-conscious and regretted her loose tongue. “Forgive me, sir, this was ill advised. I know my hair is covered in coal dust … and Banfield was likely just needling me, anyway. You see, he found out somehow that I was looking for my natural father.”
Heedless of her disclaimer, Haviland said rather intently, “We met at the lecture, did we not? I’m sorry, I was a trifle distracted at the time. What is your name?”
“Miss James. Tessa James.”
“Tessa James.” His eyes widened in a startled manner. A slow smile lifted one corner of his mouth, and she feared he must be laughing at her to imagine they could be related by blood. Guy had returned to join them, and Haviland said to him, “Do you recall that deathbed confession of my father’s that I mentioned to you?”
“Something about him siring a child with the governess.”
“He begged me to look for the girl, my half sister, and to do right by her. But I hit a brick wall on discovering the governess had died in an accident and no one knew what had happened to her daughter. The governess was Florence James. And her daughter’s name was Teresa.”
Guy looked from her to Haviland and back again. “Tessa, you said your mother was a maidservant, not a governess.”
“Yes, that’s what I believed.” She scoured her memory. “Mama talked about working as a servant in a fine house, and I suppose I just assumed…” Her heart pounding, she raised her hands to her cheeks and smiled wonderingly at Haviland, taking in his roguishly handsome features and the dark blue eyes full of deviltry. “Oh, milord. Could it be possible?”
He smiled back, taking her hand and grasping it firmly. “More than possible. It would seem we are brother and sister. Well, half siblings at least. Wait until my younger sister—your sister, too—finds out she has someone else to hector besides me. By the way, her name is Margaret, she’s rather tall, and if ever you wish to tease her, just call her Leggy Meggy.”
“Oh! I could never—!” Tessa said, shocked at the very thought of uttering something so rude to this unknown lady. Her sister.
She had a brother and a sister. It didn’t seem quite real.
Nevertheless, jubilation filled her. Though she had once feared to be rejected by her noble relations, Haviland appeared pleased by the discovery. And to think they’d already met on the night of the lecture. He’d been looking at Avis, while Tessa had been too entranced by Guy to take note of anything so absurd as a similarity in her hair color to Haviland’s.
They parted with a promise to talk more on the morrow. As she went off with Jiggs to the carriage, she felt enveloped in a wonderful dream. She was accustomed to making her own scrappy way in life without any relatives, though she’d often longed to have loved ones. Now she had a brother, a sister, a grandfather. It was all too bewildering to absorb.
Yet one thought shone as clear as the full moon against the night sky. How could she truly be happy without Guy and Sophy?
* * *
Watching Tessa disappear out the garden gate, Guy had to restrain himself from going after her. He craved to settle matters between them, to ensure that she wouldn’t leave him now that she’d acquired a family of her own. But he could hardly abandon Haviland to deal with the body lying in the bushes. They must wait for Jiggs to return with the carriage.
“I daresay you’ve stolen my scoundrel’s crown tonight,” Haviland said on a droll note. He’d set down the lantern and leaned a shoulder against the brick wall of the town house. “There I was, sitting in the library like a decrepit old codger, catching up on a week’s worth of newspapers, and now thanks to you, I’ve acquired another sister and there’s a dead man in my garden.”
Guy chuckled. “You may keep your crown. Though it would seem you’re not so much of a scoundrel anymore, either.”
A certain stiffness entered Haviland’s expression. “You’ve been investigating me. I should draw your cork for that. There was a time when you trusted my word.”
“Forgive me. It was necessary for the protection of my family. But pray know that when Banfield handed me that note summoning me here tonight, I knew him at once to be the culprit. You would never have abducted a woman in order to steal a treasure map. Not even if you were still deeply in debt.”
“So you’ve looked into my finances, too?” Frowning, Haviland glanced away. “It was my father leaving Ainsley Hall mortgaged to the hilt and in a state of utter disrepair that shook me awake. After he died, I decided not to spend my life dodging creditors while my estate fell to rack and ruin.” He paused to take a deep breath. “I’ve even deemed it time to produce an heir.”
“You, marry? You swore a blood oath it would never happen.”
“Yes, when I was one-and-twenty and had just been spurned by the girl of my dreams for being an incorrigible rake.” As if he were looking into the past, a slight smile touched his lips. “Now that I’ve found her again, I’m determined to convince her that I’ve turned over a new leaf. And since she has no living relations, I shall ask your permission to pay her my addresses. Miss Avis Knightley is, after all, in your employ.”
Guy stared. “My aunt’s companion? I’d have sooner pictured you chasing after some sweet young Venus.”
“It’s been ten years since we first met, and she’s still the sweetest young Venus I’ve ever known.” His smile took on an uncharacteristically soppy quality before vanishing into sternness. “Speaking of romance, I demand an explanation for this improper closeness I noticed between you and my newfound sister. What exactly has been going on under your roof?”
It was Guy’s turn to stiffen. Not for the world would he mention that passionate interlude in his study. “My intentions are honorable, I assure you. In truth, I’ve already offered for Tessa, though she hasn’t accepted—yet.”
“You should be asking permission of her elder brother.”
“You’ll have to fight Lord Marbury for that right. He’s her grandfather on her mother’s side. There was a scandal a long time ago. Marbury’s daughter disappeared when he tried to marry her off against her will. Apparently she ended up at your father’s house as governess under an assumed name.”
Haviland whistled. “You don’t say! Tessa has acquired a whole host of noble relations, then. What happened to her, Guy, after her mother died? Where has she been all these years?”
“In a workhouse as a child, then a millinery shop. It’s another long story, which I’m sure she’ll be happy to tell you. Suffice to say that she’s been on her own for most of her life.” Wondering if Haviland would fund her shop, Guy firmed his jaw. “So as far as paying my addresses, it isn’t your or Marbury’s permission that matters. It’s Tessa’s.”
Chapter 22
Still in something of a daze upon her arrival back at Carlin House, Tessa was startled to be escorted by Mrs. Womble to a bedchamber on the floor reserved for the family. Jiggs had sent the night footman to wake the housekeeper, and in turn, she had rousted several maids out of bed. As they carried in cans of hot water to fill a large copper tub by the fire, Mrs. Womble in her nightcap and robe directed them.
Tessa felt compelled to protest to the venerable woman. “A pitcher in my nursery chamber will do. Really, I don’t mean for you to go to any trouble on my behalf.”
“Mercy sakes, Miss James, you need a more thorough washing than that. I can’t imagine how you came to be in such a state unless you was climbing the inside of a chimney in the middle of the night. Though of course it is not my place to inquire, only to obey His Grace’s command.”
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Tessa thought it best to avoid satisfying the housekeeper’s curiosity and to let Guy determine what the staff was to be told about the circumstances of Banfield’s death. “This is much too fine a room for me.”
“It’s merely a guest chamber, one of a dozen. Why, you’re saving the maids the trouble of toting them heavy cans all the way up to the nursery and likely disturbing Lady Sophy. I expect that’s why His Grace ordered it so. He was always considerate, even as a lad.”
Now that was a subject of interest to Tessa, to hear stories about Guy’s childhood, about visiting his grandparents in this house. She would have liked to have asked, but Mrs. Womble was busy supervising the maids at various tasks. One ran upstairs to fetch Tessa’s nightgown, one kindled a fire on the hearth, and one laid out towels, soap, and a brush. Within minutes, yet another maid delivered a tea tray from the kitchen.
The housekeeper bobbed a respectful curtsy to Tessa. “Ring the bell if you require anything else, miss. Or shall I leave Sally to assist you?”
“Oh, no,” Tessa exclaimed. “Pray return to your beds, all of you. I shall be fine and … thank you.”
Alone at last, she shed her filthy clothes and immersed herself in the steaming water. She didn’t know how nobles suffered having so many servants around. Yet the extravagance of a tub filled nearly to the brim made her sigh with pleasure. She’d have to be a saint not to appreciate such luxury.
Studiously, she avoided thinking about all that had happened. Her brain needed a rest from worry and strain. After a few minutes of mindless relaxing, she set to work scrubbing away the coal dust from head to toe. The cake of soap smelled deliciously of lavender, and in guilty delight, she used a liberal quantity of it. Only when the water began to cool did she emerge to dry herself with a towel and to don the soft familiar flannel of her old nightdress.
Armored in comfort, she perched on a fringed ottoman by the warmth of the fire. She took care to avoid the sore spot at the back of her head while running a brush through her damp hair. As it dried, she drank a cup of tea and savored a cream bun from the tray. Two cream buns, for it seemed a shame not to indulge when such a plentiful amount sat on the plate. Then, having nothing else with which to occupy herself, she gazed around the room and marveled to think that her mother had grown up in similarly lavish surroundings.
A branch of candles illuminated a chamber of fairy-tale splendor with a canopied bed and rose silk hangings. Her bare toes curled appreciatively into the plush carpet. Even the brocaded ottoman felt luxurious to her work-worn hands. This could be her life if she accepted Guy’s proposal.
But she was no Cinderella destined to marry the prince.
That particular tale had ended with a glorious promise of happily ever after, with no one questioning exactly how Cinderella had adapted to living in a palace after years of sleeping in the ashes. And surely it must have been extremely odd to wear a tiara instead of a servant’s mobcap, and to have others bow to her when she had always been the one to do the curtsying.
Of course, any such adjustments were made easier for Cinderella because she basked in the certainty of the prince’s love.
Love. That was the key.
Tessa knew that one missing element could greatly mollify her own doubts about marrying into the nobility. But Guy had made his offer out of duty. He’d even admitted that he hadn’t intended to wed ever again. His heart, she suspected, would always belong to the ghost of his departed wife.
She rallied her flagging spirits. How could she possibly despair when she had gained a family in Lord Marbury and Lord Haviland? That they would welcome her into their lives was the answer to her dreams.
Removing the gold pendant, she ran her fingertip over the engraved coat of arms. How pleased Mama would be to know that her daughter had finally found her grandfather. That had been her dying wish, after all. Upon leaving Carlin House, Tessa would go to live with him, and she would make every effort to forge a bond with her brother and sister, too.
And perhaps someday, she would forget that she had once loved a duke.
The quiet ticking of the clock on the mantel drew her attention. It was half past two in the morning. Sophy would be awake by eight, and if Tessa hoped to get any sleep at all, she had best return to the nursery straightaway.
She lay the pendant on the table, intending to braid her nearly dry hair. No sooner had she reached up her hands to do so, though, than a quiet tapping sounded. As she whirled around, the door opened, and Guy peered into the bedchamber.
A spontaneous joy uplifted her soul. All of her lethargy dissipated as she felt buoyed by the anticipation of his embrace. Oh, she’d been mistaken to think him unloving, because surely he’d come to lay his heart at her feet …
He entered the room and closed the door behind him. Instead of approaching her, however, he paused. “I thought you’d already be asleep. When I saw a glimmer of light under the door, I decided to check on you.”
From across the room he studied her somberly, his hair in attractive disarray, his cravat gone, and his arm still in its sling. There was an indefinable weariness to him that touched her deeply. Yet she found it difficult to read his impenetrable face, and his coolness was far from encouraging. If he loved her, surely he would have rushed forward to seize her in his arms, to cover her with kisses.
Tessa abandoned the braid and let her hair fall loosely around her shoulders. “It’s very late. I was about to go upstairs to bed.”
He frowned. “I told Jiggs very clearly to convey that you’re to stay right here tonight. I won’t have Sophy waking you at the crack of dawn. You need a little time to recover from all that’s happened.”
Her throat taut, she folded her arms and returned his steady stare. “I belong in the nursery. I-I don’t feel comfortable here.”
“Not comfortable?” He glanced around the well-appointed bedchamber. “Was there something you lack?”
Your love, Tessa thought, though she felt too disheartened again to say that aloud. Guy was fond of her, but merely as a friend, and he would wed her out of nothing more romantic than gentlemanly obligation. She craved wild, reckless ardor, the closeness that had immersed them in the bliss of their one night together. But on that occasion she had been naïve enough to mistake fleshly passion for heartfelt sentiment.
Feeling treacherously close to tears, she turned her head to gaze into the fire. “There’s nothing,” she murmured. “Your servants were all very kind.”
He strode to her side. “Yet you look so desolate. You’ve told me very little about your ordeal. Come, my dear, sit down for a moment. It will do you good to speak of it.”
Sliding his arm around her waist, he guided her to the ottoman, then knelt in front of her and grasped her hands in his. The firelight revealed the anxiety etched in the lines of his face. “I have to know, Tessa. What did that brute do to you? How did he lure you away from here?”
“Banfield told me you’d been injured again, that you needed me to come outside to your carriage. But when we went to the mews, there was only a hansom cab and as I looked inside, he struck me from behind. I daresay it’s lucky that I have a hard head.”
Guy didn’t chuckle at her attempt at a jest. His jaw tight and his face grim, he growled, “He knocked you out?”
“Yes. When I woke, I was tied up in the coal cellar.”
He turned her hands over, palms up, and regarded her reddened, abraded wrists. Though his expression was hewn from granite, his touch was soft as he brought them to his lips for a kiss. “You should never have fallen prey to Banfield’s clutches. It’s a wonder you don’t hate me.”
“Hate you? No, those scrapes were only caused by me trying to loosen my bonds,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “Luckily, he didn’t notice that I had a pair of scissors in my pocket. Once I’d sawed through the rope, I scrambled onto the pile of coal and managed to wriggle through the chute.” An involuntary shudder ran through her at the memory of slipping and sliding her way up the coal stac
k only to be very nearly daunted by her escape hatch. “It was quite narrow, and there was a moment when I feared myself to be stuck.”
A muscle clenched in his jaw as he held tightly to her hands. “Damn Banfield to hell! And damn me for never seeing the evil in him. I always sensed a certain coldness in him but put it down to reserve. I never imagined he was my uncle, let alone that he’d been plotting revenge on my family.”
“How could you have guessed? He fooled everyone, even your grandfather.” That reminded Tessa of another horror, something she felt obliged to tell Guy. “While I was tied up, he confessed all of it to me … exactly how he’d murdered your family, one by one. Pray don’t ask me the details just now. But … I could only think he meant to do the same to you, Guy. And that I had to … I had to stop him.”
Hot tears began to slide down her cheeks. She couldn’t control the flow despite her best efforts. He uttered a gruff exclamation and she found herself folded into his arms, clutched securely to his chest. Tessa tucked her face into the curve of his neck while she sobbed out all the residual fear and terror bottled up from that nightmare. Guy had very nearly died at the hands of a murderer, and she rejoiced to be sheltered in his embrace again, absorbing his heat and vitality, feeling the strong beat of his heart against her bosom.
He nuzzled her hair, while his hand rubbed soothingly over her back. “Ah, my darling. I’d have given my life to have spared you that anguish.”
Through hiccupping sniffles, she uttered, “But then you’d be dead, and that would be even worse.”
A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. He tilted up her chin and dabbed her wet cheeks with a folded handkerchief. Then he kissed the tip of her nose, though it must surely be red and unsightly from her weeping. Yet he was regarding her with a gaze so adoring that she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.
“What I find so wonderfully admirable about you, Tessa, is that you grew up an illegitimate child under the worst of conditions. Yet you never harbored bitter resentment over the circumstances of your birth as Banfield did.”