Heart in Hiding (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 6)

by Sahara Kelly

  She folded the paper. “An’ that’s ‘bout it, Ma’am. All she ‘ad to say ‘bout them names yer give me…”

  Hecate reached for Mrs. Trimmer’s hand, and shook it. “I can’t tell you how wonderful this news is, Mrs. Trimmer. To know that my mother lived here, or at least stayed here for a while…that is truly astounding and it means so much to me. Will you make sure to thank your Aunt when next you write?”

  Mrs. Trimmer blushed a little. “Well, o’course, Ma’am, ‘appy to’ve been a ‘elp.”

  “You have. Very much indeed.”

  Finn helped her up. “We have a place to start now. Perhaps a trip to Bridgeby to see if Mary Willes is still living next to the Inn?”

  “Could we?” Her eyes beseeched him, even if her words were more casual.

  He grinned. “Of course. Right this minute if you wish.”

  “I’ll get my cloak.”

  Finn hurried out to the stables, glad that the new gig was ready for them. It took a scant few moments to get the horse into its harness, and he was tightening the last strap when Hecate appeared, walking carefully from the house with one hand on her cane and the other on her bonnet. “Goodness, I should have tied this more tightly.” She laughed as the wind buffeted the straw on her head.

  “Here, let me.” He neared her, tilting her chin up and reaching for the ribbons beneath. “This could certainly be snugged up a bit,” he muttered, distracted by the sheen on her lips and fighting against looking into her eyes. A man could drown there if he wasn’t careful.

  But inevitably his gaze met hers, just as he finished off the tightened knot in the ribbon.

  “That should do it,” he said, his voice catching in his throat.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Ah, dammit Hecate,” he lost his personal battle. Sliding his hands either side of her face he tugged her forward, lowering his head to hers, breathing in that wondrous fragrance of flowers and woman.

  The kiss was inevitable, wonderful and oh so dangerous.

  His lips slid over hers and as soon as his tongue licked along their seam, she opened her mouth and welcomed him inside with a tiny moan that rocked his soul.

  He scarcely realised he had her crushed against his body, or that her arms were free of her cloak and wrapped around his neck.

  He devoured her, eating at her mouth, sucking her breath and knowing his body was responding as well, hardening instantly as the taste of her filled his senses.

  She slithered and writhed in his embrace, rubbing against him, sighing into his mouth and duelling with his tongue, all things guaranteed to land them both naked in the straw behind the gig if he didn’t stop this now. This instant.

  Maybe in just a few more moments…

  The horse whinnied and shifted, rattling the tack and moving the gig a little.

  “Whoa,” Finn wrenched his mouth from Hecate’s, panting a little and fighting to regain his composure.

  “Whoa, indeed,” she mumbled, her lips swollen and deep pink from his bruising kisses.

  “Did I hurt you?” He ran a fingertip over those lush folds.

  “Of course not,” she said, a smile moving them beneath his touch. “You could never hurt me, Finn. Ever.”

  For a second he leaned his forehead against hers. “I pray to God you’re right,” he whispered. Then he let her go. “Come on then. To Bridgeby and Mrs. Willes.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The drive was accomplished quite quickly, since neither occupant of the gig seemed inclined to chatter, and the weather was brisk enough to keep the horse at a steady trot.

  Hecate was warm enough. Her thoughts, her emotions—aroused by Finn’s kiss—sizzled within and it could have snowed heavily before she would have reached for her gloves.

  Desire had not come easily to her, but had slapped her hard, then drowned her in its breath-taking wonder. Was she wise to trust in herself where Finn was concerned? Did she dare even think about naming this feeling she knew had blossomed in her heart?

  She’d made a terrible mistake once, but did not want it to rule the rest of her life.

  On the other hand, making another mistake would be the height of stupidity.

  It was a difficult dilemma that tore at her, especially at moments like these when the taste of his kiss still lingered on her lips.

  Why could she not see more clearly what lay ahead? That one glimpse of them, together in bed, and now nothing. There’d been a blank before, and she’d ended up close to death. Was this the same situation?

  She tussled with the contradictions arguing within her mind. On the one hand was the lack of foresight. But on the other were the feelings that all shouted yes when it came to Finn. Those, she had not experienced before. In fact, she’d ignored the ones that whispered no to Dancey Miller-James.

  There was still a gap in Finn’s memory, a large enough one to be of concern. Suppose he’d married during those months? Was there, even now, a woman desperately seeking her husband? Hecate closed her eyes for a second or two, praying that was not the case. For if she learned of a wife, after allowing herself the luxury of loving Finn…well, she could not envision the pain such a circumstance would bring.

  Their pace slowed.

  “I think this is Bridgeby,” said Finn, pointing to the houses clustered ahead. Smoke puffed from chimneys and one or two folks were out braving the cold.

  “There’s the Inn,” said Hecate. “So the Willes’s should be…there?” She gestured to a little cottage next to what a large sign announced as the Dog and Duck.

  “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll inquire,” Finn suggested. “I’ll be but a moment.”

  Hecate nodded. “All right.”

  She tucked her cloak around her feet, stuck her hands in the folds of thick wool, and watched Finn walk to the door and tap.

  Within moments it opened and what appeared to be a small maid spoke to him and then nodded. He turned back to the gig. “It’s the right place.”

  The excited smile on his face did more to warm her than all the cloaks in the world. “I’m ready.” She waited for him to help her down, liking that he did so without any fuss or fanfare, just lifting her away from the seat and down to the ground.

  Offering his arm, she took it, again noting that he never made any comments about her leg or whether she was experiencing any pain. It was pleasant to be looked after, but sometimes she appreciated just being treated like everyone else.

  Finn had managed to reach that point without difficulty. Another point in his favour.

  He did slow his pace as they walked up to the door, but to any casual observer there would have been nothing untoward about their progress.

  Her hip ached a little, but so much had been happening lately, that more and more she’d forgotten about it and even neglected to keep her cane at her side. Could that be the key to her improvement? Focusing her mind elsewhere?

  “This is it,” said Finn, pulling her back into the present. “Mrs. Mary Willes is inside, according to her daughter. Are you ready to meet her?”

  “Of course.” Hecate took a breath. “I am very much looking forward to it.”

  Together, they stepped inside, finding a warm and snug hall and a young maid ready to help them with their cloaks.

  “’Tis a cold day again, Miss,” said the girl as she accepted the thick wool bundle. “Mrs. Willes is in her parlour. Got a good fire goin’, so ye’ll warm up right away.”

  “Thank you,” nodded Hecate, hearing Finn doing the same thing.

  “If yer’ll follow me?”

  A few steps took them to the warmth of the little room, and the lady sitting comfortably by that ‘good fire’. She looked up.

  And gasped.

  “Moira.” She paled and clutched at her chest. “As I live an’ breathe, ’tis Moira…”

  “No, no, Ma’am,” Hecate hurried to her side and took her hand. “I’m not Moira. I’m her daughter.”

  “Her daughter?” Mrs. Willes blinked and st
ared fixedly at Hecate’s face. “She’s got a daughter. An’ two peas in a pod y’are, dearie. As alike as could ever be.” She took a breath. “How you startled me.”

  “I am so sorry,” Hecate squeezed her hand. “I don’t remember much of Mama, you see. She passed away when I was very young. And nobody’s ever really told me that I resemble her that closely…”

  Tears filled the old eyes. “Gone, then, has she?”

  Hecate nodded, feeling the sting of tears behind her own eyes as this sweet old lady mourned the loss of the mother Hecate barely knew.

  “Ah well. ’Tis the way of things. Sit lass,” said Mrs. Willes, gesturing to another chair. “An’ this fine gentleman…yer husband, then?”

  “A dear friend, Mrs. Willes. It’s an honour to meet you.” Finn bowed over the wrinkled hand and dropped a light kiss on the knuckles.

  “Irish, I’ll be bound,” grinned the old lady. “Always had a way with ‘em, the Irish. An’ those blue eyes too. Sit ye down then. Tell me why my past has come back to say hallo.”

  Hecate was chuckling. “You are quite correct, Mrs. Willes. Finn Casey is indeed Irish. And he recalls my Mama too. The families lived near each other back when he was a boy, it seems.”

  Mrs. Willes shook her head. “The world is an odd place, sometimes. It criss-crosses itself, an’ surprises everyone. Like now.” She stared again at Hecate. “Ye’re so like yer Mama.”

  Finn perched on a low stool and rested his arms on his knees. “Did you know Declan Willows, Mrs. Willes?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Of course. Moira’s older brother.”

  Hecate gulped. “So my Mama was Moira Willows before her marriage? Somehow, I never thought to ask.”

  “Aye,” nodded the old lady. “Good family, it was. Irish, of course. Always laughing, up to mischief, an’ Moira…well, she had a bit extra.”

  Hecate puzzled over that comment. “A bit extra?”

  Mrs. Willes nodded. “Touch of magic, had that girl. Out of the ordinary. Declan now, he’d worry ‘bout her. Always said she was too trusting, an’ not to do any o’ her strange things while there was people she didn’t know around her.” She cast a side glance at Finn. “’Tis all right to talk of such things in front o’ him?”

  He smiled. “Indeed it is. And you’ll be happy to know that Miss Hecate here has a good helping of that self-same magic.”

  Old eyes turned to Hecate and opened wide. “Ye have the gifts then?”

  “I do.” Hecate acknowledged her talents openly for once.

  “Use them well, my dear. They’re precious. Unique.” The old woman’s voice was low and sincere. “There’s not many that share them. I could wish there were more.”

  “You are so kind,” answered Hecate. “I promise I will do just as you suggest.”

  Finn reached into his pocket. “There’s a reason we are here, Mrs. Willes. We didn’t know about you until recently. When we found this, hiding on a ledge high above some old curtains.” He pulled out the little box and passed it to her.

  “Oh my…” She took it cautiously. “I been thinkin’ this was long gone, since nobody ever said a thing ‘bout it…” She pushed the button and opened the box, gasping as she saw the delicate miniature within. “Ohhh…as lovely as ever.” She looked up at Finn. “How can I begin…I don’t know…”

  He held up his hand to stop her. “No thanks necessary. We’re returning it to its rightful owner. That’s all.”

  She dashed a tear off her cheek. “Ye don’t understand.” Her eyes turned to Hecate. “It’s been a bad year. The crops are failin’ an’ my lad’s farm is all but done up. His wife, God rest her soul, lost her life giving it to another, but there’s little to feed or clothe the children. Young Sarah lives here with me an’ her brother Jemmy does odd jobs next door at the Inn, an’ I give them everything I can…but this…this little brooch…I will have to sell it. The money will save my family. My grandchildren.”

  Hecate nodded. “I understand.”

  Mrs. Willes shook her head. “Now I feel so guilty. My son found out about this. He…he…”

  “He came to see if he could find it?” Finn finished her sentence.

  “He did,” she whispered. “Shamed us all by breaking in. But he was convinced he could find it an’ he didn’t know if anyone was there. It had been so quiet, you see. Just two people, he said.”

  “No harm done, Mrs. Willes,” said Hecate. “Other than giving our new maid a bit of a scare, there was no harm done at all.”

  “An’ to think he didn’t need to go that far because here it is, in my own hands.”

  Hecate rose from her chair, knowing it was time to leave, but thinking furiously all the while. “Mrs. Willes, we must be on our way. We’ve kept you past the point of politeness here,” she smiled. “But may I ask one thing…let me arrange the sale of the brooch for you? I would hate for you to be cheated by someone who might think to take advantage of you. If you’ll trust me…”

  “Trust Moira’s daughter? There’s nobody I’d trust more.”

  Touched by the sentiment, Hecate leaned down and dropped a light kiss on the old woman’s wrinkled cheek. “Thank you. And thank you for caring for my Mama when she was here.”

  “She’d be proud of yer, lass, I’m thinkin’,” said Mrs Willes. “Ye’ll come back now and again?”

  “If you’ll have us,” answered Hecate, realising Finn was at her side.

  “Of course.”

  “’Til we meet again, Mrs. Willes.” Once more, Finn kissed her hand, and Hecate grinned at the blush on the old woman’s cheeks.

  “He’s a flirt, Mrs. Willes. Don’t let him persuade you to run off with him.”

  Finn sighed dramatically. “She gives away all my secrets, Ma’am.” He glanced at the table by her side. “I see you have a paper there from London.”

  “’Tis out of date by now, but yes. Next door sometimes has extra,” she replied.

  “Would you be done with this one, then?” he asked. “We’re a bit behind with any news ourselves.”

  “Of course, lad. Take it with you. I’ll be glad to know someone’s readin’ all that London nonsense.” She shook her head.

  “I love a bit of nonsense now and again,” he chuckled, making the old lady laugh as she bid them farewell.

  The two left the cottage to that happy sound, which warmed Hecate’s heart.

  Finn’s arm was welcome as they walked to the gig. He looked at her as he helped her up onto the seat and settled her cloak around her knees. “How much are you planning on giving her for the brooch?” His eyebrow quirked.

  “Damn you, Finn Casey. How did you know?” She glared at him.

  He walked around the horse, grabbed the reins and clambered up beside her, setting off on the road back to Doireann Vale. “I know you better than you think.”

  She snorted and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “That is such an arrogant comment.”

  “Do you doubt the veracity of my statement, Ma’am?” He grinned at her as he clicked the horse up to a trot. “And hold on to that newspaper. I would hate to scatter the contents across wet and muddy fields.”

  “Why did you want the paper, Finn?” Her curiosity roused, Hecate decided to ask the question uppermost in her mind.

  “Because I felt that by letting us have it, the playing field was levelled a little.” He pursed his lips in thought. “She was able to give us something, in exchange for what we’d given her.”

  Hecate absorbed that statement. “You mean sort of like helping her salvage her pride?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did we damage it by giving her the brooch?”

  “No, I don’t think so. But I know my family would have considered themselves in deep debt to you had it been us on the receiving end of such an unexpected surprise. It just seemed the right thing to do.”

  Hecate smiled to herself, liking the fact that she was riding alongside a man who preferred to do the right thing. “Well, I hope you enjoy the news,
” she chuckled.

  He nodded, and since raindrops were now dotting their clothing, he gave the horse a touch of the whip and they dashed the rest of the way back to Doireann Vale, reaching their destination minutes before the skies opened to a serious solid rain.

  Hecate shook out her cloak in the hall as Finn took care of stabling the gig and handing it over to the stable lads.

  Winnie tsked over the damp wool, but hung it carefully over two hooks, hoping it would dry quickly.

  “It looks like we’ll be in for the day, anyway, Winnie. So don’t worry yourself too much over it.” The newspaper they’d taken with them was damp, but not unpleasantly so. Hecate opened it flat on the hall table, and was smoothing out the front page when Finn hurried in and closed the door behind him.

  Winnie took his cloak and spread it to dry. The hall air was already smelling of damp fabric.

  Finn wrinkled his nose. “It’s good that we managed to be indoors before the worst of it,” he said, walking up to Hecate. “So what has been going on in the Metropolis?” He glanced over her shoulder at the headlines.

  And gasped. So big a gasp that Hecate turned around in concern.

  Finn was white as a sheet, staring at a picture. “God…”

  He staggered, almost knocking her down.

  “Finn, my God, Finn…” She held him and almost dragged him into the parlour. “Winnie, get me some tea. Strong.”

  “Yes’m,” answered Winnie, dashing away as Hecate helped Finn into a chair.

  His colour was returning a little but he still looked as if all the devils in hell had landed in front of him.

  “Finn. Talk to me. Now.”

  “The paper…” he whispered. “It’s him.”

  “Him who?”

  “The man who tried to kill me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The parlour was silent as everyone watched Finn.

  Hecate’s cry for tea had also brought Dal running, with Lady Augusta close behind. Together they’d all helped her get Finn off his feet and into a chair, where he’d slumped and closed his eyes.