Always Yours

by Cheryl Holt

  His grandfather had been a very wise fellow, and he’d counseled Noah on how difficult it would be out in the world as a bastard. His father had made many mistakes in his personal life, so Noah would have to forge his own path and not expect much assistance from others.

  Even now, at age twelve, he could find a job or begin an apprenticeship, but both routes seemed too small. A great destiny was percolating inside him. He merely had to figure out what it was and seize it as it passed by.

  He was hampered though by his concern for Miss Robertson and Pet. He’d sworn to them that he’d always protect them, but if he left them to their own devices, he couldn’t imagine what might transpire. Miss Robertson put on a brave front, but she couldn’t manage her affairs. She was so bad at it.

  Just look where they’d landed! If his half-brother hadn’t offered them shelter, they’d have been residing in a poorhouse in London.

  “If Mr. Sinclair stops by in the evening,” Noah cautiously said, “it doesn’t mean he’s sweet on her. Maybe they had vital topics to discuss.”

  “It wasn’t the evening. It was night, and the second time, he was in her bedchamber!”

  “My goodness.”

  This was very serious.

  His grandfather had supplied a hefty dose of advice on the amorous foibles of grownups. He’d been determined that Noah have no illusions about the sins his parents had committed, so Noah knew more about that sort of conduct than a boy ought to know.

  Sir Sidney had been a handsome, dashing rogue, and Noah’s mother, who’d been quite a famous actress, hadn’t been able to resist him. She’d been madly in love with him, and he’d seemed to love her too—until he didn’t anymore. After Noah was born, he’d moved on to greener pastures. His mother had died, supposedly from a lung infection, but people agreed the real cause was a broken heart.

  She never recovered from the loss of Sir Sidney and had called his name on her deathbed.

  Not that Sir Sidney had noticed. He’d vanished by then, with no support furnished. Noah had been sent to live with his grandfather, and he’d been lucky that he’d had somewhere to go.

  He wouldn’t want Miss Robertson to get herself into the kind of jam his mother had faced. She wrote letters to acquaintances every day, praying someone might write back and provide a miracle, but no one had even bothered to reply, let alone suggest a solution to their plight.

  If his half-brother seduced her with wicked intent, then tossed her over, where would they be?

  They were balanced on the edge of a perilous cliff, where the slightest ill wind could blow them over. Did Miss Robertson realize that fact? Well, of course she did, but as his grandfather had explained, females didn’t choose the best path when they were misbehaving.

  Should Noah speak to her? Should he speak to Mr. Sinclair? Had he the right to interfere? Was it any of his business?

  “I hope they marry,” Pet ridiculously said.

  “They never would, and you shouldn’t plan on it.”

  “Why couldn’t it happen? It’s obvious from how he gazes at her.”

  “How does he gaze at her?”

  “As if he loves her.”

  “Men stare at woman like that constantly, but it doesn’t indicate true sentiment. Especially when the man is a scoundrel.”

  “Are you claiming our brother is a scoundrel?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m worried now.”

  “I won’t think badly of him, and you shouldn’t either.”

  “I won’t, but Miss Robertson is too far beneath him. He’s Sebastian Sinclair, and she’s…ah…ah…” Noah wouldn’t denigrate Miss Robertson, so he finished the sentence by saying, “He’d never pick her, and I’d hate for you to get excited about it. I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.”

  “I’m not a baby, Noah. If they don’t end up together, I won’t cry on my pillow.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “But I won’t stop wishing for it. If they wed, we’d be safe. She’d be his wife, so he’d have to take care of her—and us. She wouldn’t let him abandon us.”

  Noah couldn’t bear to upset her, so he said, “I’ll wish for it too. I’ll cross my fingers that it occurs exactly that way.”

  Then and there, he decided he would have to have a frank talk with Mr. Sinclair. His half-brother couldn’t be allowed to abuse Miss Robertson. He couldn’t leave her in a dire condition, as Sir Sidney had left Noah’s mother.

  Noah wouldn’t permit it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “You have a visitor.”

  “Who is it?”

  Sebastian was at Hero’s Haven, hiding in his library. He glanced over at Raven who’d just stuck his nose into the room.

  The manor was silent for a change. There were a dozen men from the expedition team staying with him, but they were off on various errands and social calls. It was the middle of the afternoon, and he was drinking a whiskey and staring across the park, desperate to head over to Sarah’s cottage and determined that he wouldn’t behave so foolishly.

  There was no reason to be so fixated on her. If pressed for an opinion, he’d have insisted he didn’t like bold females. He was a very traditional fellow and thought women should be modest and unpretentious, that they should defer to men in all matters.

  She was so removed from being that sort of person that it was laughable, so what was spurring his potent fascination? He had no idea.

  “It’s that little cretin, Noah,” Raven said, “and he’s demanded to talk to you.”

  Sebastian blanched. “Can’t you send him back to the cottage? He shouldn’t be over here. Tell him to go home.”

  “I told him precisely that, and he replied that I have no authority to order him about. He’s quite a prick, and he won’t take no for an answer. In that, he reminds me of Sir Sidney—and you.”

  “Don’t even say it.” Sebastian gaped at Raven, both of them vexed by the boy’s arrival, then Sebastian asked, “What does he want?”

  “I can’t imagine, and I’d rather not debate with him.”

  “Are you afraid you’d lose any argument?”

  “Probably.” Raven shrugged. “You might as well speak to him. If you don’t, I doubt he’ll leave quietly.”

  Sebastian sighed. “All right. Bring him in.”

  So far, Sebastian had ignored the two children. Was he ready to become cordial with Noah? Why shouldn’t he be?

  He wasn’t the first son in history to discover his father had sired other children, and he was actually curious about the boy’s mother and her relationship with Sir Sidney. How had they met? When had they met? Had their affair been brief or lengthy? Why had they split? What details might Noah be able to provide?

  “Don’t wear out your welcome,” Raven warned Noah as they neared, “and don’t be a nuisance.”

  “I’m never a nuisance,” Noah responded haughtily.

  “If you upset Mr. Sinclair, I’ll toss you out on your ass. Do you hear me?”

  “Stop threatening me, Mr. Shawcross. I’m not scared of you.”

  They entered the room, and Raven glared at Sebastian and said, “I’ll be out in the hall. If he annoys you, summon me. I’ll get rid of him.”

  “You’re excused, Mr. Shawcross!” Noah’s tone was petulant, like an irked king.

  Raven didn’t follow commands from anyone but Sebastian, and he hovered, waiting until Sebastian waved him out. He closed the door, but he’d tarry outside as he’d promised. If Sebastian shouted for him, he’d rush in and deal with Noah, but Sebastian liked to assume he could handle a young boy on his own.

  He was seated behind the desk, and he motioned for Noah to come over and sit down. Noah strutted over, the swagger in his gait an exact copy of Sir Sidney’s. His mannerisms were so disconcerting!

  “What can I do for you Mr….ah…”

  He was going to be polite and refer to Noah by his surname, but he didn’t know what it was. Had Sir Sidney given Noah his name? Was he a Sinclair?

/>   Noah was such a smart devil, and he realized Sebastian’s conundrum.

  “It’s Noah Sinclair,” he said. “Our father permitted my mother to put it on my birth certificate.”

  “Well…ah…good.” Sebastian was at a loss for words.

  “You needn’t call me Mr. Sinclair though. I’m happy to have you call me Noah.”

  “Fine. How can I help you, Noah?”

  Noah didn’t explain, but asked instead, “May I call you Sebastian? I understand it’s not entirely proper, and you are much older than me, but we’re brothers. I ought to be allowed.”

  A muscle ticked in Sebastian’s cheek as he began to grasp some of Raven’s exasperation. What could it hurt to use their Christian names? Was it worth a quarrel? He didn’t think so.

  “You may call me Sebastian, but would you get on with it please? What is it you want?”

  “I’m here to confer with you about Miss Robertson.”

  In the minute or two Sebastian had had to ponder Noah’s mission, he hadn’t wondered what the conversation would be about. He couldn’t guess what would plague a boy like Noah. But…Sarah?

  It was the very last topic Sebastian would have expected.

  “What about her?” He managed to keep the astonishment out of his tone.

  “It appears you’ve been sneaking over to visit her in the middle of the night.”

  “I haven’t been,” he firmly stated, “and I don’t like to be accused of decadent conduct, so if that’s all you needed to say, we can wrap this up.”

  “Our sister, Petunia, has seen you at least twice. She’s not a liar, so don’t pretend that she is.”

  Sebastian’s impulse was to deny and deny and deny, but Noah was staring him down, practically daring him to impugn Petunia.

  Carefully, he admitted, “I may have come by on occasion.”

  “In the middle of the night,” Noah pressed.

  “Yes.” Sebastian’s cheeks heated with embarrassment.

  “I have to talk to you about it.”

  “What is it you’d like to tell me?”

  “Miss Robertson seems very clever, but she makes bad choices.”

  “Really? I don’t view her that way. She’s been very successful in her life.”

  “Mostly, she has, but she believes the best about people, so she can’t ever accept that they might have wicked motives.”

  “You think I have wicked motives with regard to her?”

  “I hope not. I would hate for her to be hurt—as my mother was hurt.”

  “How was she hurt?” Sebastian stupidly inquired when Noah’s very existence was the answer.

  “She loved our father very much, and she was devastated when he left. She never recovered.”

  “How old were you when she passed away?”

  “I was five. Our father liked pretty girls, but he was never too keen on them after they became mothers.”

  It was a shocking remark, and Sebastian asked, “How old are you now?”

  “Twelve.”

  “How do you know all this about Sir Sidney?”

  “After Mother died, I went to live with my grandfather. He told me stories about her and how Sir Sidney had burst into her life and wrecked it. My grandfather didn’t like for there to be any secrets about it.”

  “That’s a modern attitude.”

  “He was anxious for me to grow up to be a better man than our father was, to treat the ladies better than he did.”

  Sebastian was flummoxed by the comment. How was he to respond to it? He couldn’t defend Sir Sidney’s licentious habits. Since Noah was proof that their father had had low morals, any refutation would be silly.

  “Are you worried about Miss Robertson being friendly with me?” he asked.

  “Yes. She can’t be involved with you. She’s very lonely, and as I mentioned, she doesn’t always make good decisions.”

  “What is your evidence of her poor decisions?”

  “When her brother-in-law sold the orphanage, she had no plans for herself. She couldn’t convince herself that her sister would kick her out, but her sister is a terrible person. The instant I met her, I realized Miss Robertson was doomed.”

  “You’re an astute judge of character.”

  “Yes, I am. Miss Robertson is the only adult Petunia and I have in our lives, and if she’s in jeopardy, then Pet and I are in jeopardy. You can’t worsen things for us.”

  “Let me set your mind at ease, Noah. I like Miss Robertson.”

  “How much? I’m very afraid it might be too much. Would you marry her if you got her into a jam? I’m sure you never would, so there’s no reason for you to stop by at night.”

  Out of the mouth of babes…

  “You’re correct, there’s not, and in the future, I will refrain from nocturnal visits.”

  “Swear it to me,” the little prick demanded.

  “I swear,” Sebastian breezily replied, not at all certain it was a vow he could keep. But did a promise to a child actually count?

  “I’m glad we had this talk,” Noah said.

  “I am too.”

  “May I ask you another question?”

  “Of course.”

  “What will happen to us?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought.”

  “Miss Robertson is working to find a solution, but even if she can, I have no idea how she’d support us, so I will throw myself on your mercy and plead with you to consider supporting us. Maybe out of Sir Sidney’s estate? Petunia and I are his children after all. It’s only fair. My grandfather previously sought financial assistance for me, but it was denied.”

  Sebastian scowled. “Who was contacted?”

  “Your mother.”

  “My mother!”

  “We had tried to reach Father, but he was usually out of the country. Finally, Grandfather wrote to your mother. He was dying by then, and he was very concerned about my fate.”

  “What was her response?”

  “She called him a liar and threatened to send the law after him if he bothered her again.”

  Sebastian was flabbergasted. He’d wondered if his mother had an inkling of Sir Sidney’s inclinations, and here was confirmation that, yes, she’d definitely known.

  “I’m sorry for what my family has put you through,” Sebastian told him.

  “I’ve survived, with a huge dose of help from Miss Robertson, but you have a chance to fix some of the damage Father caused.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Sebastian tepidly said, not positive what he meant.

  “And I was curious about another topic.”

  “What topic?”

  “The next time you journey to Africa, may I join your expedition team?”

  First Ophelia, now Noah. Was it the week for unlikely people to beg to join?

  “You’re awfully young, aren’t you?”

  “You initially went when you were ten.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “I’ve read all your books. I’ve memorized whole passages.”

  “You have?” Sebastian was inordinately flattered.

  “If I started traveling with you, I could earn an income that way, couldn’t I?”

  “Yes. We earn substantial income from our trips.”

  “Then I would be able to support Miss Robertson and Petunia on my own. I wouldn’t have to depend on you, and I wouldn’t have to fret about them.”

  The remark was very sweet, very dear, painting a clear picture of the kind of boy Noah was deep down. Who wouldn’t want him on the expedition team? Who wouldn’t want him for a brother?

  “I’ll ponder your request,” Sebastian said, “but I’m not sure I’m going back. The last outing was incredibly traumatic.”

  “I’m betting you’ll go again, once you’ve recovered a bit more.”

  “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Or, if you won’t take me to Africa, might you buy me a commission in the army? That would be a splendid path for me as well, but I sho
uldn’t enlist as a private. I really believe I should be an officer.”

  Sebastian snorted at that. “Yes, you’ll definitely be a leader of men. I doubt you’d make a good private.”

  “And what about our living arrangements? Will you keep me posted on that too? Miss Robertson is so afraid for the future, but she doesn’t always apprise us of what’s occurring. She doesn’t like us to worry, but I hate to have the weight of this situation on her shoulders. I’d like to carry some of it on mine.”

  “I’ll meet with her—at a reasonable hour—to discuss it.”

  “Thank you.” Noah stood and bowed. “And thank you for speaking with me. I appreciate it very much.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He walked out, and Raven was dawdling in the hall. On seeing Noah, he straightened and said, “Are you finished already? Please tell me you’re leaving.”

  “I’m leaving, Mr. Shawcross, and you don’t need to show me out. I know the way out of my own brother’s house.”

  Sebastian winced, Raven too, both of them hoping no one was lingering nearby who might have overheard. Noah marched off, and after his footsteps faded, Raven came in and poured himself a whiskey. He sat in the chair Noah had just vacated, and he sipped his liquor, expecting Sebastian to comment.

  When he didn’t, Raven said, “That boy is dangerous.”

  “He’s something, all right, but I wouldn’t call him dangerous. He’s so much like my father. It would be like calling Sir Sidney dangerous.”

  “The pot and the kettle,” Raven muttered. “What did he want?”

  Sebastian waved away the query. “He merely asked me to be nice to Miss Robertson and his sister, Petunia.”

  Raven looked dubious, as if he might have been eavesdropping. “Is that all?”

  “He’s a loyal fellow. He’s concerned about them.”

  “Is he demanding you assume responsibility for them?”

  “I’ve given them a place to live, so I’m staggering down that road.”

  “Before this is through, will you end up supporting them?”