by Cheryl Holt
He had no idea.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ophelia was in the village near Hero’s Haven and tarrying in front of the mercantile. Veronica had lost a ribbon on her favorite bonnet, and she was inside, eager to find one that would match it.
They’d been bored at the manor, so they’d had a carriage harnessed and had gone for a ride. They’d coaxed Judah Barnett into squiring them about the neighborhood, so he was with them too. He was at the cobbler’s, checking on the cost of a new pair of boots.
He was her favorite member of the Sinclair exploration crew. Other women might have picked Raven Shawcross, who was very attractive in a dark, sinister sort of way, but he was too brooding for her.
He never flirted with her or fawned over her due to her being Sir Sidney’s daughter. Judah, on the other hand, was delighted to flirt. He was very tall, which she liked in a man, and his brown hair and eyes were deliciously enticing. When he focused his attention on her, she melted just a bit.
She was waiting for both of them and growing impatient to the point where she might have to enter the mercantile and nudge Veronica into hurrying. While Ophelia loved her cousin to death, she couldn’t deny that Veronica could be very fussy.
It was a trait that would drive her brother mad, and occasionally, she wondered what kind of marriage he and Veronica would have. They didn’t have anything in common, but as the negative notion arose, she shoved it away.
Sebastian was handsome and dashing, and Veronica was pretty and glamorous. Her dowry was huge too, and Ophelia couldn’t comprehend why Sebastian continued to delay. Veronica had rebuffed several marvelous suitors while expecting to become Sebastian’s bride, and with him out of the country so often, he likely wasn’t aware of how popular she was.
If he was informed of how many boys had hoped to wed her, might he be in more of a rush?
She doubted it. Her brother was almost an exact copy of their famous father. No one had ever been able to tell Sir Sidney what to do, and Sebastian had the same obstinate streak. If he was pushed down the martial path, he’d delay even further merely to prove he couldn’t be bossed.
As if she’d conjured Sebastian by thinking about him, he suddenly trotted by on his horse. She was surprised he was still at home. At breakfast, he’d mentioned he was headed to Selby to speak with Nathan, and she’d thought he’d already left.
His pending departure had cast a pall over the festivities at the manor. She and Veronica had intended to extend their visit so Veronica could slyly engage in more socializing with him. But with him flitting off to Selby, they were debating if they shouldn’t return to town. It’s what her mother would have demanded.
The men from the expedition team were in residence, so it wasn’t appropriate for them to remain when Sebastian was away. Veronica wasn’t too keen on the prospect, but Ophelia was thrilled to devise reasons to interact with Judah. Though she’d never admit it aloud, and couldn’t guess what her mother’s opinion might be, she was beginning to wish a closer acquaintance might be pursued.
Judah seemed to be wishing the same. Might they have a romance in their future? Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have been interested, but with Sebastian flippantly rejecting her request to travel to Africa with him, she was angry and feeling very sorry for herself. An amour would definitely elevate her dour mood.
Sebastian hadn’t seen her loafing, and she would have waved and called to him, but before she could, another female standing down the block—one Ophelia didn’t know—greeted him instead. He reined in to chat with her.
Ophelia observed them, curious as to who the woman might be. She was attired like a governess in a plain grey gown, with long sleeves and black collar and cuffs, but she wasn’t a governess. With her white-blond hair, she was much too beautiful and exotic for such a paltry role.
Sebastian was certainly intrigued. She uttered a comment that had him laughing, and Ophelia was startled. Africa had sucked the joy out of him, and she couldn’t remember when she’d last heard him laugh.
Even though he’d earlier proclaimed himself to be running late, he dismounted to dawdle with the woman. They were toe to toe, and it was obvious they were intimately connected, appearing so attuned that sparks were practically flying.
Stunning her, Sebastian laid a hand on the woman’s waist as if he was familiar with her person, as if he was allowed physical contact.
Was he smitten? Was he…he…in love?
It couldn’t be. If he was involved in a significant liaison, she’d have had an inkling of it. Yet he was quite charmed. Ophelia had never witnessed such a shocking sight. No wonder he hadn’t proposed to Veronica! He was too busy to consider it.
For an astonishing instant, Ophelia worried he might kiss the woman—right there on the street—but he drew away and jumped on his horse. As if he were a soldier in the army, he gave her a jaunty salute, then kept on to Selby.
The woman was overtly dejected to have him leave. She was frozen in place, watching with a forlorn expression until he vanished. She was terribly woebegone, as if she’d be bereft until he returned.
My goodness! What was happening?
Ophelia wanted to assume the woman was a doxy, but while Ophelia had never met a trollop, she was sure the woman wasn’t one. She looked too magnificent to be a slattern. Who was she and how could Ophelia guarantee she stayed away from her brother?
She couldn’t be permitted to distract him from his important decisions with regard to Veronica.
Judah sauntered up and asked, “What has you so transfixed, Miss Ophelia?”
“Sebastian just rode by.”
“He must finally be off to Selby.”
“Yes.” She pointed down the block. “Do you see that woman?”
He scowled ferociously. “Yes, I see her.”
“Sebastian stopped to speak with her. Might you know who she is?”
“Yes, I know her.”
“Is she from the area?”
“No, she’s from London.”
“Why is she here in the village then?”
“She’s…ah…an acquaintance of your brother’s. She’s been having a spot of trouble, and he’s helping her.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“She recently lost her home. He’s…ah…letting her live in the valet’s cottage out past the lake.”
Ophelia gasped with offense. “She’s living at Hero’s Haven?”
“Only for a bit—until she can make other plans.”
“What’s her name?”
“It doesn’t matter. Ignore her.”
At Judah’s determination not to say, she was determined to learn what it was. “I’m serious. What is her name?”
“Miss Sarah Robertson.”
Just then, a boy and girl skipped up to Miss Robertson. Ophelia studied them, and an odd ringing clanged in her ears, and she felt horribly dizzy. They were incredibly familiar. Who did they resemble?
After a moment of intense concentration, it dawned on her. The boy was the spitting image of Sir Sidney! But the little girl bothered her even more. Ophelia might have been staring at a tiny version of herself when she was five or so. There wasn’t a whiff of difference between her and how Ophelia had appeared back then.
“And who are those two children?” she asked him.
He’d been gazing at Ophelia, and when he glanced over at them, he blanched with alarm. “They’re not anyone at all, and they’re not supposed to be traipsing around the neighborhood. Your brother wouldn’t like it.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
Judah didn’t reply, but said, “Would you excuse me? I have to tell Miss Robertson something.”
“Certainly.”
“You remain where you are. Don’t move.”
Ophelia was agog with a dismay she didn’t understand. Judah marched to Miss Robertson, and she bristled, her demeanor showing she didn’t like him.
He was quite sharp with her, and he must have mentioned Ophelia because the children peered straig
ht at her.
The boy was shameless and impertinent, and he must have wanted to talk to Ophelia because Ophelia heard Judah say, “You will not talk to her! Now get going.”
He motioned down the road, insisting they depart. The boy argued with Judah, even though Judah was an adult. Clearly, the child had no manners.
Who was he? Why wouldn’t Judah explain?
She had too much of Sir Sidney’s blood flowing in her veins, and she might have blustered over and demanded to know what was occurring, but Veronica walked out of the mercantile.
Ophelia couldn’t let her see Miss Robertson and the children or Veronica would be wondering who they were—as Ophelia was wondering.
Besides, Miss Robertson hadn’t seemed keen to bicker on a public street. She’d herded the children away, and they were hurrying off in the opposite direction.
“Did they have your ribbon?” she asked Veronica, as she spun her away from the disturbing scene.
“No. They had several shades of blue, but none of them matched.”
“Are you finished with your errands? Shall we return to the Haven?”
“Yes. Might your brother still be there?”
“No. He rode by while I was waiting for you.”
“Drat it! I would have liked to chat with him. How long will he be gone? Is it worth it to tarry in the country in the hopes that he’ll be back without too much delay?”
“Well, the last time he went to Selby, Nathan beat him to a pulp, so it might be a very short trip.”
“They were fighting? Why?”
“I guess they have some unresolved issues over what happened in Africa.”
“Will they mend their spat? Is that why Sebastian is calling on him?”
“He’s trying to mend it. He needs Nathan to testify at the inquest.”
“He will though, won’t he? He loved Sir Sidney.”
“Yes, I’m sure they’ll work it out.”
Ophelia led Veronica to the carriage, and Judah caught up to them as they were about to climb in.
“How was your visit to the cobbler?” Ophelia asked him, pretending he’d just arrived. “Were you able to order your boots?”
He shot her a hot look, informing her she was smart to refrain from discussing Miss Robertson in front of Veronica.
“Yes, I ordered a pair,” he said.
“At least one of you was successful. Veronica couldn’t find a ribbon to suit her.”
Judah helped them in, then hefted himself in too. As they settled on the seat, he winked at Ophelia. They now shared a secret, and she arched a brow, notifying him he could bite his tongue for awhile, but not for long.
She wanted some answers, and the mysterious Miss Robertson would give her the perfect pretext to parlay with Judah much more intently than she should.
* * * *
When a knock sounded on the door, Sarah was startled. Two servants came over from the manor twice a day, but for the rest of the hours, they were on their own.
Mr. Sinclair was the only other person it might have been, but he’d ridden to Selby, which was extremely intriguing to her. He was best friends with her half-brother, Lord Selby, and she was so curious about him.
Was he as handsome as Mr. Sinclair? Was he as courageous and dashing?
She figured he probably was. He’d spent most of his life traveling to Africa with Sir Sidney.
Did he remember he had a sister? He was three years older than she was, and she’d like to meet him eventually, merely to discover what he recalled, but she doubted she’d ever be so brazen as to introduce herself.
If he didn’t remember he had a bastard sister, or realize their father had been a philanderer, she didn’t suppose he’d like to be apprised. A snooty aristocrat wasn’t ever anxious to learn that sort of pesky detail.
Her friend, Nell Drummond, had grown infatuated with him over the summer when she’d stayed at Selby to attend a wedding. He’d been inappropriately flirting with her, and she’d been bowled over by him and had found it hard to resist his devious seduction.
Sarah hoped Nell had escaped his amorous advances. A girl like her, one who was poor and had no parents to guide her, could get herself into real trouble with a fellow like that, and Sarah hated to envision her half-brother as a libertine. Then again, Sarah’s father had sired her out of wedlock, so her half-brother might be a roué too.
Nell lived with the rich Middleton family, and before Sarah had left London with Noah and Pet, she’d stopped by their mansion to tell her what had happened. But they’d been out of town, and no servant would explain when they’d return.
She’d written a desperate note to Nell, but as Sarah had had no forwarding address to include, there was no way for Nell to reply once she was home. The next time Sarah was in London, she would try to speak with Nell immediately.
The knock sounded again, louder and more firmly, and Sarah was yanked out of her reverie. She went over to the door, being shocked to see Ophelia Sinclair standing on the stoop.
“Miss Robertson?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m Sarah Robertson.”
“I am Miss Ophelia Sinclair.”
“I know who you are, Miss Sinclair.”
“May I come in?”
Sarah would rather have poked her eye out than chat with the haughty shrew, but she forced a smile and said, “Yes, of course you can come in.”
She waved Miss Sinclair into the foyer, but the girl strolled through to the parlor, without waiting to be escorted. She sat on the sofa, and she didn’t shed her shawl or bonnet, so apparently, it would be a quick visit. Thank goodness!
Sarah followed her in, breathing a sigh of relief that Noah and Pet were outside playing. There was a stream behind the cottage that flowed into the lake, and they were throwing rocks and wading.
Earlier that morning, they’d been feeling housebound, so they’d walked into the village. Mr. Sinclair had ordered her not to prance about the neighborhood, but she had a bad habit of not meekly obeying. The minute they’d arrived, he’d ridden by.
He hadn’t minded that they were out and about, but his henchman, Judah Barnett, had definitely been irked. He’d commanded Sarah—in no uncertain terms—to get the children out of Miss Sinclair’s sight.
Normally, Sarah would have told him to stuff it, but she hadn’t wanted to engage in a public quarrel. Nor would she jeopardize their spot at the Haven. She suspected Mr. Sinclair would be furious if his sister met Noah and Pet, and Sarah was happy to let him decide if overtures would ever be made.
“I’ve never previously been in this cottage,” Miss Sinclair said. “My father’s retired valet lived here for years.”
Sarah had no idea how to respond to the comment or what, exactly, they ought to talk about, but she said, “Please pardon my manners, but I don’t have any servants or any tea and biscuits. I can’t supply you with refreshments.”
“I don’t need any.”
“How can I help you?” Sarah was eager to cut to the chase and send her away before Noah and Pet blustered in.
“Mr. Barnett advises me that you’ve suffered some personal difficulties, so my brother is allowing you to tarry. I was very surprised and not aware he’d opened this cottage for you.”
“I ran an orphanage in London.”
“You ran it? A woman?”
“Yes, but the building was sold, so I’ve lost my home. I didn’t have anywhere to go, and Mr. Sinclair is permitting me to use it while I figure out a plan for myself.”
“How do you know my brother?”
“I just…ah…crossed paths with him recently.” Sarah was a terrible liar, and she couldn’t invent an innocent story to explain their association.
“The children who were with you in the village, are they your children?”
“No, they’re orphans. As my facility was being shut down, I found places for all my wards except them. They don’t have anywhere to go either.”
Sarah was unnerved by Miss Sinclair. Obviously, she didn’t l
ike the notion of her brother opening the cottage, and he was on his way to Selby. While he was there, could his sister kick them out? What was her authority over the property? If she insisted they had to depart, had Sarah any option but to comply?
“I saw Sebastian with you,” Miss Sinclair said. “You appeared to be very…close.”
“Yes, we’ve become good friends.”
“I think you’re more than friends.” Miss Sinclair’s tone was accusatory. “I think you might possibly be sweet on him. You seemed quite fond.”
Sarah chuckled as if it were the silliest observation ever. “If that’s what you suppose, then you have completely misconstrued our relationship. It is simply one of charity, with him extending assistance to a woman who desperately needs it.”
Clearly, Miss Sinclair didn’t believe Sarah, and Sarah studied her, being uneasy over her purpose.
She was very pretty, twenty or so, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a slender shape. She was attired in very expensive clothes, sewn from the most elegant fabrics: a pink day dress and silk shawl, with dainty slippers that had been dyed to match the gown.
Sarah was wearing a functional grey dress. It was tattered and faded from too many washings. Her unruly hair was tied with a ribbon, her shoes scuffed and dusty from the walk to the village. In Miss Sinclair’s presence, she felt dowdy and unkempt.
What must it have been like to be the daughter of the famous Sir Sidney? Her brother had gotten to travel the globe and have adventures, but she had had to dawdle at home with her mother. Did she ever chafe at the unfairness of her situation? Did she ever bubble over with fury that she hadn’t been provided with the same chances as her brother?
Sarah would have raged and protested, and she could predict almost to the letter how dreary Miss Sinclair’s life had been so far. Sarah might have been a thousand years older than the juvenile, spoiled girl.
“I thought you should know,” Miss Sinclair said, “that my brother is engaged.”
At the news, Sarah was shocked, but she managed to keep her expression carefully blank. “He’s engaged? I hadn’t heard. I’ll have to offer my congratulations.”