Unmasked Heart

by Vanessa Riley

  Stelford looked aghast. "Barbarians. This is what you want to associate with, my dear Duke?"

  "Friend, they are little children rushing to play; ill-mannered, but children none the less." Neither of the redheads could be the Telfair daughter he sought, or this trip was a waste of time. Towing a handkerchief, he bent to dust off his boot. Before he could move out of the way, a small boy rammed into his hip, pushing William backward. "Whoa, young man."

  Stelford pushed them both forward. "You've gained weight."

  William grabbed the boy and swung him in the air. "Where are you going in such a hurry, little man? I think an apology should be tendered."

  The boy's eyes grew wide, but he said nothing. The child, frozen within William's grasp was the lad from the woods.

  So was his lovely sister near? Was she the Telfair daughter he sought? He hid an anticipating smirk and pulled the lad deeper into his arms. "What's your name?"

  The child tugged on a flap of William's greatcoat, as if he could hide within the wool.

  "Timothy!" a panicked feminine voice floated from behind.

  "Is that you, little man?" He rotated, holding the child to her. "Here, miss."

  With luscious sun-kissed ringlets and thin-rimmed spectacles bouncing, William's prayer warrior stood close, with her arms outstretched. She had to be the one. God did work in mysterious ways.

  Heart lunging within her chest, Gaia could barely speak; her voice sounding like rushing wind, "Please, sir, he didn't, didn't mean.... You...."

  She put a hand to her lips to stop her babbling. The man must think her an idiot.

  "Yes, me. And he's been no trouble; just in too large a hurry, like his sisters." He leaned down and placed Timothy in her arms.

  A sigh escaped her lips when she held the lad close. The man who saved her brother last week, then caught her crying her eyes out yesterday, stood at the door. The anxiousness and hurt wrapped around her heart again. Eyes closing, she tightened her arms about Timothy.

  The boy squirmed, and she set him to the ground. Borrowing courage from the air, she took a deep breath and faced her brother's hero, her forthcoming source of humiliation. Using a few hand motions she'd taught him, she pointed at the tall man. "Timothy, you must apologize."

  The boy hung his head. Tears drizzled down his cheek. "So-rr-y."

  The handsome man and his red-eyed friend stared at them.

  The owner of the steady blue-green eyes tipped his fine beaver top hat. "Is he well? I hope I didn't frighten the boy."

  "Did you come to call upon his, our father, Mr. Telfair?"

  Timothy reached out toward the man. "Horse. Horse."

  Dressed in buff breeches and a turquoise waistcoat, he stooped beside her, seemingly uncaring of dusting his rich clothes. "You remember Magnus. Does the lad have difficulty with his speech?"

  Gaia swallowed hard. They weren't supposed to discuss this in public, and especially not with strangers. She snatched up Timothy's hand and proceeded to walk inside.

  The man caught up with her, falling into step. "I didn't mean to offend you. I just—"

  "What! Are you curious? Will you make sport of this with your friend?" She bit her lip, but also couldn't help but marvel at the new freedom her tongue held. Her protective nature of this little boy knew no bounds.

  He crossed in front of her, blocking her retreat deeper into the hall. This man had to be as tall as Elliot, maybe taller.

  "I'm not the enemy, miss. And I want to make sure Master Timothy Telfair is unhurt."

  "He is well. Now, follow me to the parlor. You may put your hat and gloves on the show table." She pivoted from the green-blue, maybe sea-blue, eyes beaming at her.

  Stripping off his outer garments, he kept staring at her. "What is your name, Miss Telfair?"

  Wiggling her worn kid slipper beneath her long faded skirt, she wished for a means of escape. The training of being a lady, a gentleman's daughter, spurred into her mind. She would act as one, until exposed to be less than. "This might be the country, but the rules of propriety are obeyed here. We need a proper introduction. Excuse me, sir. I must help with refreshment."

  He caught her arm and kissed her hand, as if they were old friends. "How can we have a proper introduction, if we continually accost each other? It's up to three separate occasions."

  A chuckle fled his mouth when her lips thinned. "If we don't exchange names now, we will have to keep sneaking about."

  Her grimace widened as she opened the parlor door. "In here, gentlemen."

  His friend, head swiveling toward both of them, slipped inside. Timothy's rescuer stayed. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Well, thank you, my dear."

  "For what?"

  "For not calling down any new plagues; it's been a quiet night. I'm grateful." He winked at her before entering Sarah's lair.

  Gaia stared at the door, dumbfounded at his jokes. What was he going to say to her stepmother and her father? Had she brought more shame to the Telfairs?

  William wanted to turn back and go through the door. The answer for Mary's mute world stood in the hall of this modest home. So close.

  “Your grace, to what do we owe the pleasure? It couldn't be again for your audacious request."

  Pivoting toward the harsh scold, William squared his shoulders. The man already knew who he was. Ah, the inequity of being on enemy soil. "I deserve your censure, Mr. Telfair. I came myself, to rectify the situation."

  The thin older man with light-colored sideburns squinted at him and pointed him to the burgundy divan. "My mind is unchanged, but a civil meeting is better than your first overture or the sending of your fancy black servant."

  Things were so different in the country. In London, it would be seen as a sign of high regard to send Albert. Quality servants of his race were quite fashionable; not that William followed such trends.

  He sat and relaxed his anxious fingers against his knee. His arrogance could ruin any chance of getting Mary aid. Yes, he was Duke of Cheshire, and had command of more land and money than most, but he'd give it all to save Mary from silence. Humility spilled from his pores, wetting his palms. "I must apologize. I was desperate to find a deserving companion for my daughter. I didn't think how outlandish the request must seem to you."

  Mr. Telfair smiled for a moment then sank against the curved wood of his chair back. "Good, we have an understanding. None of my daughters are looking for positions. My eldest, though she will be returning from London this evening, is a rare beauty who might be a good acquaintance for you."

  Oh, no; the matchmaking commences. "How many daughters do you have, sir?"

  Telfair sat back, his posture slumping, as if counting the number was a burden. "There is Julia, my oldest, and then there are my twins, Lydia and Helena."

  "And, Gaia; your second-oldest." A buxom woman with reddish hair came into the room with a large silver tea service. The spectacle-wearing prayer warrior followed with a tray of biscuits and other treats.

  The men stood.

  "Yes, and Gaia," Mr. Telfair's tone was tight, not brimming with joy.

  It reminded him of those rare times he'd visited a young lady when he was poor William St. Landon, a low regiment lieutenant. In an odd way, he enjoyed the suspension. He dipped his chin to the ladies. "All the Telfair daughters I've met seem lovely."

  The prayer warrior's tray clanged onto the table. She bit her lip as she passed a saucer to Stelford.

  The lass must think he'd tell of their unconventional meetings. No, those were something to be savored; a delicious secret. "The twin girls and Miss Gaia greeted me and Mr. Stelford at the entry. Very fine girls."

  Hazel eyes beamed with a smile as she handed him a plate holding a chocolate dipped biscuit. Oh, he'd keep a thousand secrets for such a warm gaze.

  "Gaia, you can leave us. You, too, Mrs. Telfair; let us men to finish this conversation."

  "Yes, sir," the young lady curtsied, exuding grace from her curvy limbs as she balanced then popped up.

&n
bsp; She couldn't be leaving. She was the object of this outing. "I also met your young son. He's quite a spry young man. I hear Miss Gaia has been a great influence in his education."

  "Oh, yes, she has." Mrs. Telfair, linked an arm about Gaia. "She's quite accomplished in music and languages."

  The cheeks of the prayer warrior darkened, making her redden about her mouth. "Your Grace?"

  Stelford plopped back onto the divan, and began to chuckle. "Yes, miss. It was in all the papers, telling of his elevation to become the Duke of Cheshire."

  There were times when William still wished to exercise his temper and at least heatedly suggest his best friend jump into an ocean. He nodded at Miss Gaia. "Guilty as charged."

  The young lady's face tilted up. Her full lips pressed together in a line. There were questions in her eyes. "The Duke of Cheshire."

  Why did it feel as if she'd just crossed out any potential friendship because of his station? Another backward moment for this place. That's not how things typically worked. Sycophants, toadies, Deborahs, and other pushy, marriage-minded women all sought him because of his title. "Very pleased to meet you, Miss—"

  "That will be all," her father's voice sounded stern. "These gentlemen have business here at Chevron. This is not a social call."

  For a moment, William looked down at his chocolate treat, away from the curious hazel eyes and the severe brown ones of the lady's father. "Isn't there a social aspect to everything?"

  Mrs. Telfair stepped to him, her cherub-like face grinning, mobcap fluttering. "We hope that this is the beginning of more social calls." She frowned at Mr. Telfair, took a hold of the slimmer Miss Gaia, and traipsed out of the room.

  The door closed. One man stood in William's path, keeping him from getting Mary's help. He had to either make peace and humble himself, or let ego stumble him. His short, ill-fated marriage taught an invaluable lesson about the poison of pride. Mary meant the world to him, and deserved the world for such a horrid start, caught between warring parents. With hands drawn to his back, he leveled his shoulders. "Forgive my errant communication, Mr. Telfair. I meant no disrespect. I had heard your daughters are well-esteemed. I want no one around my child but people of the finest spirit and character. Meeting you and those daughters here, I see their reputation is well-placed."

  The heartfelt words seemed to soften the old man. He nodded, and he waved his hand more gently this time. "Thank you, Cheshire. Have a seat."

  Releasing a pent-up sigh, William tugged at his breeches and joined Stelford in eating the flaky pastry. "I would like to hope for some friendship between our families. I would love to be able to seek advice from you. It is obvious you have done well with these young ladies."

  "You have to have a firm hand. Do you intend to be in these parts for long? I'm sure your seat in Parliament requires your attendance."

  "If all can remain quiet, we will be in Devonshire at least through the summer." He munched on a bit of the sweet biscuit. Provided neither the blackmailer nor Deborah found him, he and Mary might stay forever.

  "Then, it will be good to see you and Mr. Stelford at church on Sunday and the upcoming Hallows' Ball. Fitting into our society is important."

  Attend the village church? An image of the pulpit, gleaming mahogany, flashed in William's mind. It would be so much easier just to hire a governess. As he stood, he forced his mouth to smile. "Well, we've a few more stops this morning. Thank you for your hospitality."

  "Yes, I, too, have some things to do, with my beautiful Julia returning from London today. Unless you and Mr. Stelford stay another half an hour, I will have to introduce you to her at the Hallows' Ball."

  William couldn't say the hundred excuses piling up in his skull. This was a process. He had to be tactful. "Yes, Mr. Telfair. Come along, Stelford."

  With his friend's lazy gait tapping behind him, they left the parlor and proceeded to the show table. Miss Gaia waited there.

  Back against the wall, head turned to the yard, the young woman fingered his hat; nervous and charming. "So, all is well?"

  "Yes; your father has welcomed us to the neighborhood."

  Her countenance whipped toward them. Her crinkled forehead smoothed. "Good; we seldom get new neighbors."

  William knelt and readjusted the buckle on his boot. An afternoon of riding would commence the minute they fled Chevron Manor. That would allay the tension in his bones—a member of this community, possibly going to his father's old church. Oh, maybe this wasn't worth it. His hopeful dream of getting Mary to speak was becoming a nightmare.

  A tiny voice squeaked outside, "Why did you do that, Lydia?"

  "You did it, Helena!" the answer sounded similar in pitch and equally distressed. "I just helped you examine the horse's hair."

  Stelford brushed past him and marched all the way to the threshold. "I assume you'd have more visitors, if you didn't set their horse on fire."

  The lass shoved the hat at his friend and hurried to the door. She gasped and started running. "Girls, what have you done!"

  By the time William made it outside, he caught the blur of Magnus charging into the woods, smoke coming from his tail, and a little boy hanging from his neck. The lovely Miss Gaia chased them.

  Mortified, scared, Gaia panted hard. The distance between her and the horse carrying her brother increased. Why did the girls do this?

  She didn't waste time interrogating the finger-pointers. Timothy needed her. Maybe Father… Mr. Telfair… was right about Gaia being her brother's companion. None of the other girls felt the same bond, the same desire to help the boy. "Lord, let no harm come to Timothy!"

  The duke's horse disappeared around the bend.

  Her chest filled with angst, crushing her heart. He could get so hurt.

  Hooves sounded behind her. She tried to move out of the way, but it came up on her too fast.

  "Give me your hand, woman," the command was stern, giving no chance to question.

  Lungs about to explode, she reached for the arm. A band of iron gripped her and towed her into the air. She slammed into the duke's back. Scrambling, she gripped him about his chest to keep from falling and being trampled.

  He clasped her fingers for a second then spurred the horse into a faster gait. "Hang on to me, Miss Telfair. We'll get him."

  It wasn't as if she had a choice if she hoped to save Timothy. The tree line blurred as the horse gained speed. Wind hit her face, and she pressed her chin against his coat. He sat very high in his seat, and the animal obeyed his commands. Somehow, knowing the duke was near, chasing after her brother, made a little of her fear ease. In the pit of her stomach, she knew God would again use this man to save Timothy.

  "Magnus must be headed back to Ontredale."

  "Through town?" What would people think, seeing her riding astride with the Duke of Cheshire? "Please, not that way; this will bring such gossip."

  "Worse. Magnus is veering toward the cliffs; his favorite place to romp."

  Weakness settled between her shoulders as she imagined her little brother tumbling down to the rocks.

  Before tears could leak, the duke's bare hand cupped hers. "Buck up. We'll catch 'em before anything worse happens. Just hang on."

  Emerald pines parted. The low lapping of waves sounded. The tang of sea air kissed her lips. "Oh, God, let Timothy be unhurt."

  "The little fellow’s got a good seat, to hang on to Magnus this long. And there he is now."

  She leaned a little closer to peer over his shoulder. The scent of warm spice emanated from his neck. She blinked and refocused. It was true; Timothy and the crazed horse were visible again, just beyond the turn in the path.

  Within a blink, they were now side by side.

  Timothy grinned. His little arms had a tight grip about Magnus's neck. "Horse. Horse."

  He appeared well, but her pulse wouldn't slow until she was on the ground, not moving, cuddling Timothy.

  As if this was commonplace, the duke leaned over, grabbed the wild horse's reins, and, w
ith the other, he slowed his mount. Forcing both to a walking pace, the duke jumped down. All motion stopped.

  Her heart lifted. He was wonderful and in control. Hopefully, the trouble they'd caused him wouldn't make him shun the Telfairs.

  In quick succession, he pulled Timothy off the saddle and put him atop his broad shoulders. "Had a good ride this morning, lad?"

  "Yeah. Horse."

  The grin on the boy's face shattered the glass holding her emotions. Tears swamped her cheeks. Her spectacles steamed.

  The duke pivoted and put the warm leather into her hands, his lips drawn into a line. "No tears now, lass. The boy's not hurt."

  Humming, the man turned. He and Timothy moved to the animal's rear. "Doesn't look as if your sisters have injured my horse too much, either.” His fingers feathered into the dark char of the animal's tail. He marched in front of Magnus. "Nothing time and my groom can't fix."

  The beast nuzzled the duke's arm as if indicating, all will be fine, Master.

  Master; the word hung in her brain, followed by an image of the duke's tall, black servant. Would that have been her fate if Mr. Telford hadn't lied? What was it like to have a master?

  Another, heavier snort left Magnus.

  Her thoughts cleared, and she petted her own mount. "We should be getting back. Everyone must be worried. And we are not exactly chaperoned. I must bring no shame to the Telfairs."

  A smile graced the duke's lips. It wasn't a scandalous smirk, so he clearly hadn't misunderstood her intent. Yet, somehow, the urge to bunch her collar itched at her fingers.

  The duke nodded. "As we go back, tell me how you taught this young man to speak. That knowledge would be a good reward."

  No, that was worse than a flirtation. He wanted to know more of Timothy and his difficulties. Sweat along her palm made the leather slip, but she caught it. "We aren't to talk of this in public."