Linnet bobbed her head; she had vast respect for courts. Nicolas’s handsome face had taken on a moody expression. He seemed to ponder. “But my problem is, I know not what I face.” He saw she was watching him, full of sympathy. He heaved a deep sigh “I do not know what documents Danforth has to prove his wife’s claim to be Verhulst van Rappard’s daughter.”
Linnet’s eyes grew round. “You mean you doubt her, sir?”
His quizzical look and raised brows spoke volumes. “Where vast sums of money are concerned, I doubt everything, Linnet. Once I arrived on the scene to challenge his claim to Windgate, it was to Brett Danforth’s advantage to find himself the van Rappard heiress— and presto! He found her and married her. Do you not think his timing most remarkable? Why, he might as well have pulled her out of a hat!”
Linnet could see that. She listened intently as Nicolas held forth on the subject. “And besides,” he finished, “I have just learned that in Bermuda our Georgiana was not an heiress at all but a bond-servant—and a runaway bondservant at that.”
“Oh, sir!” cried Linnet, shocked into protest. “I can’t believe it. The mistress is a lady born, anyone can see that!”
“Perhaps you can. Linnet,” sighed Nicolas. “But the courts may not be as astute. It is entirely possible that our lovely Georgiana is an impostor, playing a part conceived and guided by Brett Danforth. Do you think it fair that I should be deprived of my rightful inheritance by a lie?”
“Oh, no, of course not, but the patroon did buy the estate, I’m told, and—”
“But not from me. I am the rightful heir. Linnet.”
Linnet swallowed. “I won’t do nothing to hurt my lady,” she said rebelliously.
Nicolas saw that he would have to regroup. Linnet was proving to be more difficult than he had expected.
“You won’t be hurting her, Linnet,” he said earnestly. “I guess I didn’t tell you, but there’s a man searching for her—I met him in New Orange. He’s come all the way from Bermuda to find her.”
“Why?” asked Linnet, looking apprehensive.
“To expose her, to find her and bring her back to Bermuda, where she'll no doubt get twenty lashes as a runaway bondservant,” improvised Nicolas, watching Linnet for the effect it had on her.
The effect was immediate and explosive. “Then I must tell her,” cried Linnet, springing up. “So she can watch out for him. The folks at Windgate won’t let her be taken, you’ll see!”
In some alarm at the havoc he’d created, Nicolas seized Linnet’s shoulders, kneaded them gently with his big hands as he pushed her back down. “Now, now,” he soothed. “No need to go off half-cocked! Let me tell you the rest.” He regarded her with some unease. The wench had her teeth caught in her lower lip and was watching him from beneath lowering brows. She was attracted to him, yes, but it was easy to see how deep was her affection for her lovely young mistress. He began again. “Linnet,” he said carefully, “I am as fond of Georgiana as you are.”
Linnet’s stormy gaze told him she doubted it.
“This stranger approached me in New Orange. He was asking about her, where he could find her. It seems she used a different name in Bermuda—Anna Smith.”
“You see?” cried Linnet in triumph. “It isn’t her at all he’s looking for. It’s someone else!”
“No, Linnet.” Nicolas’s golden head shook decisively. “The description he gave fit her perfectly and it seems that Danforth married this same Anna Smith in Bermuda.”
“And then married her again here?” Linnet was stupefied. “Why’d he do that?”
“He married her under the new name to shore up his claim, Linnet. You see, as Anna Smith she was married to Danforth without proper permission. Her Articles of Indenture were still in force.”
“But—but they can’t take her away from her husband!” cried Linnet. And at Nicolas’s grim expression, “Can they?” she faltered.
Nicolas sighed. “I’m afraid they can.”
“Then I must go warn her!” Linnet was on her feet again but this time Nicolas was expecting it. He caught her wrist in a firm hand, imprisoned it.
“No, you must not!” he said sharply. “She’d be humiliated to have us or anyone know about her lowly beginnings, for she’s been treated as a lady here and she’s loving it!” There was some truth in what he said, he thought with satisfaction, and that made it sound all the more convincing.
Linnet sank back, confused. Her mind, befuddled by drink, refused to grasp all this.
“Nothing is going to happen to Georgiana right away,” Nicolas assured the despondent girl before him. “The man hasn’t located her yet, but he will. Linnet. He will.”
“That’s why I must warn her,” declared Linnet argumentatively.
Nicolas sighed and passed a hand across his forehead in a manner that said. Give me strength! “This man isn’t going to dash up to Windgate and take her by force. Linnet. He’s going to find out where she is and send the schout for her.”
The sheriff? Linnet recoiled. Her nose had gone from red to pale. “The schout will come with whatever force is necessary and seize her and ship her away to Bermuda and none of us will ever see her again.” Nicolas leaned forward, fixing Linnet with his hard blue gaze. “Do you want that to happen?”
“No, of course I don’t, whimpered Linnet. She was shivering again—and not from cold. Like a rabbit cornered by a dog.
“Then listen to me. If I could but read what is in that packet, I would know how to proceed. I believe that there is something in Georgiana’s past—something that she will not tell us, yet something that can be used in her favor. Perhaps she is ashamed of it, afraid her husband will find out—I don’t know.”
Linnet was regarding him with fascination. Nicolas went on: “There is a great plantation in Bermuda, Linnet; its name is Mirabelle—I am sure you have heard Georgiana mention it. I believe it to be rightfully hers. And if it is hers, I believe that I can show that she was sold into bondage illegally and save her, Linnet.”
“How?” gasped Linnet.
Nicolas leaned forward impressively. “I believe Georgiana to be not the long-lost daughter of Verhulst van Rappard but the illegitimate daughter of the dead owner of Mirabelle Plantation.”
Linnet’s jaw dropped.
“And therefore heiress to Mirabelle. Now do you understand?” Linnet did not understand but Nicolas’s portentous manner had so cowed her that she bobbed her head humbly. She sat there confused, with the heat from the fire scorching her toes, as Nicolas went on.
“I believe that I can negotiate with Danforth, Linnet, that we can reach an agreement whereby he will trade his claim to Windgate for Georgiana’s claim to Mirabelle—but only if I have access to that packet!”
Now Nicolas leaned forward and put his hand on Linnet’s knee. He was about to play his trump card. His voice was rich, vibrant, timbred—and his concentration on the girl before him was so intense that she felt pinned by it, like a helpless butterfly being pinned to a parchment. “And if you help me. Linnet”—he smiled caressingly—“and if I am right, you could well end up beside me, wife to a patroon and mistress of Windgate.”
Linnet swallowed—and then again. She felt dizzy and unreal—and not from wine. “I—I can’t believe it, sir,” she breathed. “You want to marry me?”
Having made that startling proposal, Nicolas stiffened and his voice harshened. “I’ll marry no one, Linnet, unless I can prove my claim to Windgate,” he declared ringingly. “I’ve no mind to be an impoverished bridegroom with a bride who must scrub and fetch and carry. Has it occurred to you that I’m not treating you like a light woman,”—hastily he removed his hand from her knee—“that I’ve made no advances, that I’m courting you as properly as if you were the daughter of an earl?”
“Granddaughter, sir,” interposed Linnet eagerly.
“What?” Nicolas looked as if he had not heard aright.
“I mean I might have been,” explained Linnet apologetically. “My
old Gramma was mistress to the late earl of Essex, him that lost his head on the block.”
“But that was in Queen Elizabeth’s time!”
Linnet nodded her head vigorously. “She was fourteen then, and he’d have married her, to hear her tell it. And if he had, then I’d have been granddaughter to an earl!”
Nicolas regarded Linnet in true amazement. Whatever he had expected to hear from her lips in answer to his proposal, it had certainly not been this! He fought back a wild desire to laugh, kept his expression grave. “So you see,” he managed disapprovingly, bent on impressing it on her, “I’m not treating you like a strumpet or a lightskirt—you have noticed that, have you not?”
“Oh, yes, I have, sir,” stammered Linnet, enchanted by his words. “But—” She was about to say that lifting her chemise for him wouldn’t make her a lightskirt, but her voice trailed off as she looked at the elegant Nicolas, lounging back and frowning at her so forcefully. She couldn’t believe he’d actually asked her! Her husband— oh, it was too good to think upon!
Nicolas could have asked Linnet to do anything for him at that moment—anything. He was fleetingly, almost regretfully, aware of that fact. He checked the thought aborning, and told himself there was no time for dalliance now—there was more to his plan that involved Linnet. Linnet, lost in her dreamworld, found her rapturous train of thought interrupted not by Nicolas’s strong arms but by his voice— he was speaking again.
“I am truly fond of Georgiana,” he told her with ingenuous frankness. “And I realize now that you are too.”
“Oh, yes,” she mumbled, her eyes fixed on him adoringly.
“So now let me tell you there is a way that you can oblige both me and your mistress.”
Linnet’s eyes lost a little of their adoration. She gave Nicolas a doubtful look.
Nicolas was equal to the situation. He hitched his bench closer so that his velvet-breeched knee carelessly brushed Linnet’s thigh and was rewarded by a little tremor from the girl.
“Your mistress is very jealous of Erica Hulft—as well she should be.”
“That she is!” Linnet bobbed her auburn head energetically. “And Erica is a bad one. She lorded it over us all something terrible when she was running things at Windgate.”
“I don't doubt it,” said Nicolas in a sympathetic tone. He drummed his fingers and frowned. “For reasons of my own, I’d like to humble Erica.”
Linnet swallowed apprehensively. She’d heard stories about Nicolas and the glamorous Erica. She’d overheard Lars telling cook how he’d seen Erica going upstairs with Nicolas at the Green Lion—and many were the tales that had drifted upriver about him slipping into her house at dusk and leaving at cockcrow. Knowing how haughty Katrina ten Haer must burn to hear them, those stories had amused Linnet—once. Not any more.
"Erica won’t bother us none,” she told Nicolas hastily, hoping it would prove true for—like Georgiana—Linnet feared Erica’s wildness, her worldliness, her way with men.
“No, she won’t bother us. Linnet,” agreed Nicolas, and she felt a sense of relief. He put his hands together pontifically, appeared to study them. “I’ve been thinking about it. Now that the pond at Windgate is frozen over and Georgiana has promised us ice dancing. Erica is sure to give an exhibition of her skating at the masquerade ball—she wouldn’t miss such a golden opportunity to have all eyes centered on her.”
Linnet was sure she wouldn’t. Miserably she mumbled her agreement.
“Tell me. Linnet,” he shot at her, “do you think you can dance on the ice as well as Erica?”
Linnet drew herself up in surprise. “Better, sir!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t seen nobody in this whole colony that skates as good as me!”
“Then here is what you must do,” said Nicolas gravely. And outlined the plan for Linnet to switch places with her costumed mistress.
“It might work,” the girl agreed doubtfully. “If the costumes was right. We’re near the same size.”
“Oh, your mistress will make it work if she likes the plan,” Nicolas assured her with a laugh. “It’s up to you to present it. Linnet—-will you do this for me?”
He was very near and gazing raptly into her eyes. Linnet, quite carried away, agreed as if mesmerized. “I’ll do it, sir. Can’t do no harm to suggest it, can it?”
“Of course not, Linnet. Indeed, you’ll be helping Georgiana.” His voice rang with sincerity as he smiled down fondly at the girl. He’d have liked to seduce her, for she was a pretty little thing with her big round befuddled eyes staring up at him like that, and her voice so breathless, and her bodice heaving, but—he gave an inward sigh and told himself regretfully there wasn’t time. Every minute Linnet spent away from the house was dangerous and might bring on suspicion.
“If ye want to marry me. Linnet, and become mistress of Windgate,” he said softly, rising and bending over to take her chin between thumb and forefinger and press a kiss upon the girl’s trembling lips, “then do what I ask. Slip the packet to me the night of the ball. Hide it in your skirts and I’ll slip it into my doublet and read it and return it—none will be the wiser.”
“Oh, I’ll do it, sir,” babbled Linnet. “I’ll do—whatever you want, sir.” Her gaze turned yearningly toward the big bed, and her body sagged toward him.
Nicolas sighed. “ ’Tis time Jack takes you back,” he said ruefully, pushing her gently away from him. “For it must not be known that we’ve had this little conversation.”
“Is—is he to be trusted, sir?”
“Not with information. Tell him nothing. He’s in my pay, but when a man’s for sale to the highest bidder—who knows?” Nicolas, who knew all about being for sale to the highest bidder, shrugged. “Oh, I almost forgot.” His voice was elaborately casual. “I have a little gift for you—a betrothal gift.” He brought out the delicate necklace of intricately wrought gold links with its tear-shaped diamond pendant that he had given in turn to Georgiana and to Katrina ten Haer. Now he was offering it to Linnet.
Linnet stared dazedly at the necklace. Never very bright, her few wits deserted her entirely at sight of this lavish and totally unexpected gift. She was almost afraid to touch it and shuddered convulsively as Nicolas’s warm fingers put it around her neck. Just short of clasping it, he hesitated. “Perhaps I should keep it for you,” he mulled. “If it is seen, it would cause questions and we must be careful yet a while.”
“Oh, no, sir!” wailed Linnet, stung at the thought of losing her new gift before she had had a chance to enjoy it. Her fingers clamped down on the golden links in panic and refused to be dislodged even when Nicolas applied gentle pressure. “I’ll wear it round my neck underneath my collar,” she gabbled. “I won’t take it off never! And I won’t let no one see it neither, I promise!”
Faced with rising hysteria, Nicolas capitulated.
“Very well then, Linnet.” With an indulgent smile, Nicolas clasped the necklace and stepped back to consider how she looked. It would be well worth a dozen necklaces if his scheme—of which Linnet was so integral a part—worked.
He had to admit the girl looked pretty, standing there proud and beaming at him in her flannel dress with the firelight setting her auburn hair aflame. “You’re a lovely thing, Linnet,” he said in a new, softer voice.
“Thank you, sir.” Linnet made him a mock curtsy and added wistfully, with another glance at the bed in the corner. “Are you sure you don’t want nothing more of me? Everyone’s so busy at the big house, they won’t miss me for hours.”
Nicolas's sigh rose from his boots. His easily stirred blood was already running hot and it was hard to turn down such an eager lass. Almost involuntarily, perhaps out of sheer habit, he reached out a questing arm, meaning to encircle her yielding waist and sweep her up and carry her over to the bed—and then, suddenly, he did not know what was wrong with him but he had no desire to bed her.
Every time he looked into her face a pair of shy trusting brown eyes got in the way....
H
e shook his head as if clearing away cobwebs and impatiently brushed his thoughts of Mattie aside. That had been a pleasant bit of dalliance, he told himself firmly, but that was all it was—dalliance. Mattie was a poor girl, penniless save for what Arthur gave her, which was little. She could not afford him. No—he gave an unconscious sigh—he must forget poor little Mattie. His future lay elsewhere.
And he was determined to make it a bright future. He fixed Linnet with his intent blue gaze and saw her eyes dazzle. She would be like butter in his hands this one, to be shaped and patted into whatever design he wished. But—he would not make love to her. At least not today. He forced himself to put the thought away.
“This necklace will be our bon,. Linnet,” he said with hearty insincerity. “Until I can replace it with a wedding ring.”
“Oh, you mustn’t never replace it, sir,” cried Linnet. “Not even when you give me a ring! I want to keep this—always.” Her fingers were still wound firmly into the links as if to emphasize the point.
“And keep it you shall,” he said hastily. “I never meant to take it away from you. But remember how important it is that you do all that I ask—remember how important it is to our future, yours and mine.”
“I will, I will,” breathed Linnet. Her voice was prayerful. She had never murmured anything half so intense in church. “You can count on me, sir.”
“And you must stop calling me ‘sir.’ My name is Nicolas—at least in private.”
“Nicolas,” she whispered on a note of wonder. “Nicolas.”
He could see that it was time to get rid of her. She was at exactly the right point—desperate to please him, lured by glamour and avarice, with a world opening up before her such as she had never imagined she might reach. She would do his bidding without question now—do it eagerly, do it well. She would suppress the pangs of conscience, she would not look too deeply into why he had asked her to do these things, for she would not want to risk losing her chance at the dazzling future he had dangled before her: wife to a patroon!
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