Redemption (The Reckless Rockwoods Book 4)

by Monica Burns

  “You look lovely tonight, Alma. We should have Nanny always pull your hair back. It makes you look very much like your mother.” No sooner had she spoken than Braxton tugged on Patience’s sleeve.

  “Tell her, Aunt Patience. Tell her we’re not orphans.”

  “You are not orphans,” Patience said firmly as she directed a stern look in Alma’s direction. “The word orphan is a way of saying you have no one to look after you. But you have me and Uncle Julian to look after you.”

  “But if you’re not our mother, why does Greer call you mama?”

  At the boy’s question, the little girl clinging to Alma’s skirts suddenly stretched out her arms to Patience and called out mama loudly and plaintively. With one arm still wrapped around Braxton, she took Greer onto her lap. The little one snuggled into Patience in a way that made her heart expand with happiness.

  “Well, Greer doesn’t remember your papa, and she never knew your mama,” Patience said in a quiet voice.

  “Why don’t you have any children, Aunt Patience?”

  Braxton’s demanding question made her grow rigid where she sat. A knot formed in her throat as she fought to keep tears from forming in her eyes. The adult conversation died away, and Julian was at her side in a flash of movement. Before anyone could speak, Alma stepped forward and touched Patience’s face.

  “Papa says it’s so she can take care of us.” The confidence in the girl’s voice made Patience forget her pain as she stared at Alma in amazement. A sudden smile curved Alma’s mouth as she chuckled. “Papa thinks you look just like a startled mouse surprised by the cat.”

  “Dear lord,” Constance whispered next to her as the familiar expression their brother had always used echoed in the air.

  With a quick move, her sister took Braxton out of Patience’s arms, while Julian lifted Greer up. The child squealed her objection, but Julian easily silenced her by tickling her side until she was grinning happily. Patience’s gaze hadn’t left Alma’s face who smiled at her.

  “Papa says he’s glad you and Uncle Julian are our parents now.”

  The girl’s words made the tears Patience had been holding back spill down her cheeks. Consternation darkened Alma’s face and she closed the small distance between them. One hand touching her scarred cheek, the child shook her head.

  “Please don’t cry Aunt Patience, please don’t cry. Papa says it wasn’t your fault. He says you couldn’t have known,” Alma frowned. “What does he mean by that?”

  The tears flowed harder now as she tried to suppress the sob ripping from her throat. In seconds, she was in Julian’s arms as he lifted her up off the sofa and carried her out of the room. Behind her the sound of Alma’s distress made Patience cry even harder. Desperately clinging to Julian, she sobbed into his shoulder. A slight jerk rippled through his body into hers as he closed the door of the morning room behind them.

  Keeping her wrapped tightly in his arms, Julian sank down into a blue chintz, wing-backed chair. He pressed a kiss against her brow then allowed her to cry in his arms without saying a word. After several moments her sobs eased, and the moment she finished crying a white handkerchief was provided for her use. Patience dried her tears then looked up into her husband’s eyes. His eyes, which were the color of Turkish-coffee, were dark with concern as he studied her. Strong fingers stroked her scarred cheek.

  “The child did no’ meant to upset you, mo ghràdh.”

  “I know,” she sniffled as she wiped a fresh tear drop off her cheek. “I simply wasn’t prepared...”

  “For Caleb to have his daughter tell you what the rest of us have been telling you for so long?” There was a gentle note of chastisement in his voice that made Patience nod her head.

  “I…it was so unexpected.” She drew in a deep breath. “I had thought that if Caleb were to reach out to anyone it would be to one of us—his siblings.”

  “And yet he chose his daughter,” Julian whispered gently against her brow.

  “She’s never said anything that made me even think she had the gift like other members of the family.” Patience shook her head as she grappled with what had just happened.

  “I do no’ think anyone expected Alma to have the gift of the an dara sealladh, let alone as strong as it appears to be,” Julian said quietly. “She will need your guidance, Patience.”

  She nodded at her husband’s words, but she wasn’t so sure Alma needed her as much as Julian might think. The child seemed quite comfortable with her gift, but it was possible Alma’s only experience had been communicating with her father. Julian might be right in thinking her niece would need someone to confide in. A soft knock on the morning room door made Patience slide free of Julian’s grasp, and he chuckled.

  “It is no’ like we are no’ married, mo leannan.”

  His amusement made her glare at him as she invited the visitor to come in. The sight of Aunt Matilda sent a wave of reassurance through her. The Scotswoman was the only mother she’d ever really known as her own mother had died from a terrible fall when Patience was five. The older woman moved toward her with a gentle smile on her still young-looking features. As her aunt stopped in front of Patience, the older woman tenderly cupped Patience’s face with both her hands.

  “Are ye all right, me darling lass?” There was a shadow of deep concern in her aunt’s eyes, and Patience nodded.

  “Yes,” she said with a nod. “As usual, Julian knew precisely what to say.”

  “Aye, I’ve nae doubt he did.” Matilda Stewart beamed at the Highlander before returning her gaze to Patience’s face. “Do ye feel up to returning to the salon? Alma is beside herself. The wee bairn thinks she’s responsible for making you cry.”

  “But she didn’t,” Patience exclaimed softly with regret that she’d managed to upset her niece.

  “Aye, but she’s a true Rockwood. She’s stubborn and somewhat blind to the truth of things just like her aunt.” The gentle chastisement made Patience wince, and her aunt smiled then leaned forward to kiss her brow. “Do no’ take my teasing to heart, lass. I would no’ have ye any other way.”

  With that, her aunt turned and headed for the door. Patience remained immobile for a brief second as the door closed behind the Scotswoman. Julian pulled her back into his arms and brushed his mouth against her ear.

  “We can no’ replace their parents, mo ghràdh, but like Aiden, they are ours to love just as if they were our own,” Julian whispered. “We might no’ have our own bairns, but that means we have even more love to give them.”

  A wave of emotion swept through Patience as she looked up at her husband. The deep love she saw darkening his eyes made her heart soar. She had no idea what she’d done to deserve such a man, but she would love him now and beyond the veil. With a tender kiss, she wrapped her fingers through his and pulled him toward the door. As she did she glanced over his shoulder and could have sworn she saw the faded outline of Caleb watching them with a grin on his face. His shadowy image was a bittersweet moment, but it filled her with hope.

  Chapter 9

  “Did you finalize arrangements this afternoon to add footmen to the orphanage staff?” Percy asked quietly as he took a drink of his port.

  “Yes, I had Madison select three footmen to reside at the orphanage beginning tonight,” Sebastian said with a nod. “I’m making arrangements for permanent security to ensure the family is safe when they visit the orphanage.”

  “Have you had any success in discovering how Miss Bennett knows this Edgar you mentioned earlier this afternoon?”

  “I believe she encountered him in her efforts to relocate several children to the country.” His vague reply to his eldest brother’s question made Percy wince as Sebastian raised his eyebrows in a skeptical manner.

  Percy followed Sebastian and his brothers-in-law into the salon to see Jamie seated next to Rhea on the settee across from his aunt and Patience. From the moment he’d ushered Rhea into the house this evening, she’d been the subject of a subtle, yet persistent, i
nquisition by his family. Outsiders would have simply put their questions down to his family being polite. Percy knew better.

  Although his family’s interest was genuine, it was far from superficial. The Rockwood clan was attempting to discern if Rhea was worthy of him. Not that his family’s probing would bear fruit. The only thing binding him and Rhea together was their hatred of Ruckley. Percy stopped himself from snorting with disgust as he reluctantly admitted his interest in Rhea bordered on the edge of something he’d never experienced before. A second later, he was forced once again to catch himself from expelling a noise of aggravation.

  The younger children had been taken up to the nursery shortly after dinner leaving only his nephew Jamie and Lucien’s niece Imogene to join the adults in the salon for post-dinner conversation. As he approached the settee, he saw Jamie lean into Rhea.

  “Might I show you the garden, Miss Bennett? It’s quite lovely at this time of evening, just as dusk is setting in.” The boy’s words made a small laugh break free from Rhea’s mouth as she shook her head.

  “It sounds delightful, Lord Westbury, but—“

  “She’s already promised me the pleasure of her company for a walk in the garden,” he growled as an emotion he preferred not to name flooded his body with tension.

  Not quite ten, Constance’s son had already earned himself a reputation for his quick wit and charm. If the boy were older, Percy knew he would have had a battle on his hands to capture Rhea’s attention. Pink color flared in Rhea’s cheeks as Jamie jerked his head to glare in Percy’s direction.

  The look indicated that his nephew had formed a clear interest in Rhea. The sudden visceral sensation of his gut knotting again with the same unpleasant emotion he’d experienced only seconds before made him scowl at the boy. Clearly amused, Patience coughed to cover her laughter while Aunt Matilda shook her head and restrained her amusement behind a smile. Percy eyed both women and wondered if they’d put Jamie up to his small flirtation.

  No, the boy was simply a born charmer, but it was doubtful the family had discouraged his nephew’s pursuit of Rhea’s company. As his gaze met Rhea’s he saw her purple-hued gaze darken with an undefinable emotion before it disappeared. She turned her attention back to his nephew.

  “Perhaps you might care to join us, my lord,” Rhea said as she smiled at Jamie. The boy’s expression brightened at the invitation, while Percy experienced disgruntlement at the idea he would have to share Rhea’s company. The instant he acknowledged the fact he tried to dismiss it speedily, but failed.

  “It would give me great pleasure to do so, Miss Bennett.” Jamie exclaimed with a grin of delight, which only furthered Percy’s exasperation at the sudden possessiveness he felt for Rhea. From across the room Constance expressed her disapproval.

  “Not this evening, Jamie,” his sister said as she refused Rhea’s invitation on behalf of her son. “It’s late and you agreed to ride with Lucien and Uncle Sebastian in the morning.”

  “But Uncle Percy doesn’t know the difference between a rose and a lily,” Jamie said scathingly.

  “Your uncle’s knowledge of gardening isn’t relevant to the matter at hand, young man,” Constance said firmly, although there was a visible sign of amusement on her face.

  “Well, Miss Bennett deserves an escort who doesn’t scowl at her.”

  “Scowl,” Percy exclaimed with surprise before he shook his head in denial. “I do not scowl.”

  “Yes, you do,” Jamie declared with obvious annoyance. “You did nothing but scowl every time someone spoke to Miss Bennett during supper.”

  Laughter filled the room, as Constance quickly hurried over to the couch and none too gently pulled her son to his feet.

  “That’s quite enough, Lord Westbury,” she scolded quietly. “Your tongue is getting the best of you, which tells me you’re more than ready to retire for the evening.”

  “Yes, mother,” his nephew said with a look of disgust at being thwarted. When Constance narrowed her eyes at the boy, a cheeky smile suddenly curved his boyish mouth as he met his mother’s look of reproach. “But, I’m right about Uncle Percy scowling at Miss Bennett. You said so yourself when you and Aunt Helen were coming into the salon.”

  The look of embarrassment on his sister’s face as her gaze locked with Percy’s might have made him laugh at any other point in time, but the fact she’d been discussing him and Rhea annoyed him. Constance grimaced and silently offered her apologies with a small shrug. Aware that his accusation had diverted attention away from himself for a brief moment, Jamie turned back to Rhea. The boy took her hand in his and lifted it to brush his mouth over the tip of her fingers in a courtly gesture.

  “Good night, Miss Bennett. Please forgive Uncle Percy’s ill temper. He means nothing by it. He’s becoming quite irritable in his waning years.”

  The boy’s words made Rhea laugh out loud while this time Percy was certain he was scowling as he glared at his nephew. Laughter erupted in the room once more as Constance gasped at his nephew’s insult. Aware of the fact he might have gone too far, Jamie’s nose wrinkled in regret.

  “My apologies, Uncle Percy.” Jamie nodded his head at Percy in a gesture of regret.

  Prepared to chastise the boy he heard Patience cough loudly. He glanced at his sister and immediately understood her silent warning. He had no call to berate the boy given his own error this afternoon with Patience. With a resigned sigh he offered a placating gesture to Constance.

  “Apology accepted,” he said brusquely. As if aware he’d truly angered Percy, his nephew closed the distance between them. With a penitent expression, Jamie lowered his voice.

  “I truly am sorry, Uncle Percy.” The softly spoken apology was heartfelt, and a wry smile curved Percy’s mouth as he tousled the boy’s hair.

  “You come by that reckless streak naturally, Jamie.” He bobbed his head in Constance’s direction. “I think maybe it’s best if you make a dash for it or there will be the devil to pay.”

  With a relieved smile, Jamie nodded his head and walked toward the door under his mother’s censorious look. Despite the look of disgust Imogene cast in her companion’s direction for his bad behavior, it was obvious the girl intended to offer Jamie moral support. The two children had reached the doorway when Jamie came to an abrupt halt. Imogene touched his arm as a look of trepidation crossed her somewhat plain features.

  Slowly, Jamie turned around and his gaze focused on Rhea. The expression on his nephew’s face was one he’d seen before, and as Jamie fixed his gaze on Rhea, Percy’s heart sank. The last thing he wanted was for Rhea to be the recipient of a warning from the an dara sealladh without knowing the Rockwoods had the gift of sight.

  “Miss Bennett, Timothy says you’re not to blame yourself for what happened. He says you did everything you could.”

  “What?” Rhea’s voice was a strangled sound of horror and panic. How could you…”

  Percy jerked his head in Rhea’s direction as her voice trailed off into silence. The vibration of dismay and concern flooded the room as Constance stared at her son in stunned horror. Percy’s gut twisted at the deathly pallor of Rhea’s skin and her expression of shock. Instinct drove him forward, but Patience had already moved quickly to join Rhea on the settee. As his sister took her hand in hers, Percy looked over his shoulder at Constance.

  The helpless look on her face reminded him how the strength of Jamie’s abilities had always made his sister fear for her son. Lucien quickly moved to where his wife was standing. The earl murmured something, and Constance nodded then placed her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. By now, Jamie’s expression was one of deep remorse and a hint of fear.

  Percy caught his sister’s gaze again and nodded toward his nephew then mouthed the words not to be angry with her son. She didn’t respond as she and Lucien urged the children out of the salon. As the four of them disappeared through the doorway, Percy moved around the couch to study Rhea’s features. Some of the color had returned to her face, but her co
nfusion was evident as she looked at Patience.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered in a dazed manner. “How could he…Timothy died more than two years ago.”

  “It’s a bit difficult to explain,” Patience said softly and squeezed Rhea’s hand.

  “I think the lass might feel better with a wee bit of fresh air, Percy.” His aunt’s words echoed with silent encouragement to explain the an dara sealladh to Rhea. The prospect wasn’t one he’d been ready to face just yet. Unfortunately, his nephew had unwittingly forced his hand.

  “I think my aunt’s suggestion is a good one. Come,” he said quietly and extended his hand to Rhea. The moment her fingers slid across his palm, his jaw clenched at the icy feel of her hand. Like a lamb meekly following a shepherd, she rose to her feet and allowed him to gently guide her toward the door that led into the garden.

  “Percy.” His sister-in-law, Helen, hurried to his side and offered him a plaid shawl. “It’s warm out, but Miss Bennett might find it chilly.”

  With an abrupt nod he accepted the light-weight wrap and placed it over Rhea’s shoulders. Linking her arm in the crevice of his, Percy ushered Rhea out into the night air. As he closed the door behind them, he heard the quiet whispers of curiosity reverberating in the salon.

  With the exception of the soft sounds from the street in front of the house, the garden was quiet. Rhea stumbled slightly, and he paused to give her the opportunity to regain her balance. When she’d steadied herself, he led her across the grass to the small alcove that contained a wrought-iron bench. They sat in silence for several moments before she turned her head to him.

  “How did you know about Timothy?” she asked hoarsely. “And why would you tell young Lord Westbury about him?”

  “I didn't tell Jamie anything, because I don't know who Timothy is,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I still don’t. However, I can surmise he was important to you.”

  Rhea met his gaze for a long moment before she turned her head to stare out at the garden that had taken on a blackish purple hue in the early evening’s light. There was a forlorn air about her. Whoever Timothy was, he’d obviously meant a great deal to her. The thought shot a bolt of emotion through him that he was forced to recognize as jealousy. First Jamie, and now someone who was dead. He didn’t like the implications of the sensation.