For the first time in forever, she felt whole. She even felt treasured. Standing tall, she looked at her tree. This place had always meant worship to her; now it meant truth.
"Come back with me, Gaia. Let's get you cleaned up. You can still be a duchess."
She took Aunt's hand and prepared to return to Chevron, the place owned by the man who had enslaved her father.
It took an hour for Mary to settle down. The child kept looking at the door, as if she looked for someone to enter. Could she be waiting for Gaia?
Trudging down the hall, he slunk into his bedchamber. Quiet and dull, his quarters stood, burnished with chestnut paneling. He flopped down onto the edge of bed, brushing back the burgundy and gold panel curtains flanking the sides to make room for his legs. Looking around, he had to agree. Gaia's wish of sunny blue paint might make the gloom of this place dissipate.
His valet snuck in, laid out an outfit, a turquoise vest and dark pantaloons, then crept back out without a sound. Was his staff expecting an explosion of his temper? Why would he take out his frustration on them? He wasn't the Reverend St. Landon.
Flinching, William scanned to see if a ghost were in the room; nothing but an empty bed and the breezy smell of salt blowing through an open window, fluttering the billowy, rust-colored curtains.
Ontredale sat three miles from his father's old vicarage. Closing his eyes, William could see the spire on the church, and the fire and brimstone man behind the pulpit.
After pulling on and lacing a shirt, William scratched the back of his neck and adjusted his cravat. His father taught him how to knot his tie. The pleasure of making it just so was a great accomplishment for a lad of seven. Even the old man had smiled. Then his mother broke a vase and the whole house was in uproar. A chill went up his spine at the memory of his father's shrieking at Mama or a slow maid. The man believed in propriety, but lived with so little grace.
With a tap to his head, William had to admit his temper was the match of his father's; awful, with an edge of bitterness, and lacking in forgiveness. And he'd just shown it to Gaia. "I must do better."
Although he was right about not letting his Mary cry, guilt gnawed at William's insides. It must be a lingering effect of the belladonna, not the hurt in Gaia's light eyes.
He yanked on his freshly-glossed boots. This would be a normal day; no mooning or dwelling in the land of second thoughts. He'd go to Chevron and apologize, and things would continue as normal.
As he bounced up, he caught himself pacing. Random thoughts of Gaia being lost to him started appearing, crowding out his convictions of being in the right.
In his mirror, he studied his posture. Where was the man with the beautiful child and the lovely intended to dote upon? Had he destroyed all his work to make Gaia comfortable in this marriage?
With the blackmailer still at large, maybe this was a chance to end the engagement. Exposure would come, and a divided couple couldn't help Mary.
With a final knot in his necktie, he left his chambers.
Mrs. Wingate dusted the massive canvases covering the cream wall.
She gazed at him with a frown, and then pivoted back to wiping the frame of a 17th-century landscape. The peace captured in the floral pastels wasn't on this landing, if Mrs. Wingate's stiff posture was any indication.
Tired of the false deference, he held his ground. "Fine, Mrs. Wingate; say what is on your mind."
Still dusting, the woman didn't turn. "The young lady, your future duchess."
His shoulders leveled. What was his housekeeper going to say that he didn't know? Gaia is too young. Too headstrong. All notions that had crossed his mind since their argument. "Yes?"
Mrs. Wingate turned, crossed her arms. The grey dusting cloth matched her neat uniform. "She's very clever, and devoted to your child's care."
Shocked, he rocked back on his boot heels.
"I earn my keep in silence. Your lineage has leased these grounds, done good or evil here, but I stay in the background. Miss Telfair, she attended Lady Mary all night."
The portly woman's soft brown eyes narrowed as she focused on him. "The young lady wouldn't let me relieve her. I watched her coax the child back to sleep, without picking her up and coddling her. You could learn a lot from her, sir."
"So, letting my babe scream is proper parenting?"
"No, but spoiling the child every time she is upset doesn't make her secure. What if you can't get to her? How will she go on?" His housekeeper folded up her cloth and picked up her bucket of pine-smelling polish. "Miss Telfair's in the right. In spite of how she came to us, things might be made right if she stays. There, I've said it. I'll go ready your breakfast."
William stood still, watching Mrs. Wingate's solemn form disappear upon the staircase. In spite of what things? How many knew of Gaia's illicit conception?
With the edge in her voice, it was as if someone in his family were the culprit. Oh, that couldn't be it. Could he and Gaia be related by an affair?
Oh, Lord, he felt ill and kept repeating, cousins do marry, cousins do marry.
In frustration, he stretched out his arms and knocked over a Dresden elephant. The silver and grey porcelain shattered as it hit the floor. He bent and picked up the largest shards.
Get a hold of yourself. Gaia looks nothing like a St. Landon. The old woman just knew of the affair.
He filled his lungs as his boot hit a chunk of the elephant's ear. Something broken. How many arguments did he have with Elizabeth that didn't end without one of them destroying an heirloom? Obviously, his ways of dealing with his anger in his early years of marriage weren't correct. Could his ways of raising Mary also be wrong?
He sighed deeply then returned to his room for a basket. He threw the pieces away, at least lightening the work for the maids.
Taking the stairs, he listened to the solitary thumping of his heels against the treads. God had helped to reform him of his temper, but it came too late. Elizabeth neither noticed nor cared.
Would God help him now make amends to Gaia? Had he ruined things so badly she wouldn't care either? There was no time like the present to find out.
Gaia sat back against the leather seats of Aunt's carriage. Her arm stung from the fall, her dress had stains that Aunt Tabby tried to brush out, but a little piece of her soul had been returned. Someone valued her enough to sacrifice their life for hers. Her father was loved by her mother.
"Now, Gaia, tell me; are you still engaged to Cheshire? Did you release him?"
"No, I did not say those words, but I think I should. He doesn't trust me."
Aunt's face was a mixture of relief and eyes shooting daggers. "You will do nothing of the sort."
Gaia folded her arms. She wanted a name; now that Aunt had provided one, wasn't that enough?
"You see, you are my brother's daughter, too; headstrong as the day is long."
Aunt's hand became frenzied, pushing and tugging at Gaia's chignon. "There's a carriage at Chevron. The duke must've beaten us here. Oh, and you look as though you tumbled down a hill."
Until today, she believed everyone, that she was less than. She tugged Aunt's fingers to her heart. "Aunt, I'm not perfect. I am so far from it, but I refuse to make myself uneasy any more, even for the duke."
The words sounded confident leaving her tongue, until Gaia realized it wasn't the duke's carriage, but Elliot's.
"Now, Gaia. That one's for your sister. Maybe we could have a double wedding."
Her aunt should have no worries. Her head could no longer be turned by any man at this point. They marched out of the carriage toward Chevron, and, as if Elliot had been waiting at the window, out he came to greet them.
He held out his hand to her. "What happened?"
Aunt jumped ahead of her. "A little accident. She's fine."
"Miss Telfair, I came to speak with you."
Gaia's nose wriggled as she smelled raw earth and grass clippings. "What are you doing here?"
He tugged on the dusty lapels of his s
hort hunting jacket. "I've just finished doing some research. I had some time to spare, and I thought I'd use it bringing you to your senses. Why are you engaged?"
As she looked into his piercing blue eyes, eyes she'd always wanted to be cast upon her, a wave of indignation hit her. Time to spare? That's what she was to him, leftover minutes. "Mr. Whimple, you've missed calling hours. I'm tired. Why not find my sister? She'll surely take this appointment. She might have spare time."
She brushed past Elliot and headed for the door.
He caught up to her and held it open. "What if I come tomorrow? Will you give me a chance then?"
She turned her countenance to him. "If you come on time and not smelling of bogs, I will be very glad to speak with you. I'm busy today. I've already missed story time with Timothy today."
Head held high, she walked inside Chevron, visible and emboldened. She wouldn't let any man but her beloved brother, Timothy, dictate her days. The lad knew who she was, and had always honored her sense of worth.
Elliot caught her arm and pulled her into the parlor. "I insist, Miss Telfair."
Julia lifted from the sofa. Tears lined her face as she looked their way. Why had she been crying? It wasn't from joy of an engagement. "Julia, what's the matter?"
She shook her head, straightened her melon-green bodice, and slipped from the room, closing the door with a thud.
Her heart sobbed for Julia. The girl looked like broken china. "What has happened here?"
Elliot paced. "Why are you marrying the duke, Gaia?"
She pivoted from him and moved to the low flames of the hearth. A week ago, she had a prepared answer about marrying someone who knew her worth, but that was wrongheaded, with William thinking she'd hurt Mary. She rubbed her hands back and forth. "Well, uh, he asked me?"
Elliot tapped her shoulder, and she turned to face him.
His brow creased, as if he were disturbed. "I always thought your emotions went another way."
Her heart thumped as she looked into his deep blue eyes. "Whatever do you mean?"
He bit his lip for a second. "I always thought you liked me."
Elliot knew. Her stomach soured. "If you knew this, why would you propose to my cousin? Or make eyes at my sister?"
He rubbed the scruff of his neck. "You have always been like a little sibling. It wasn't until the Hallows' Ball that I saw you as a desirable young woman."
The gall of him. She leveled her gaze to his. "You mean it wasn't until I had the duke's attention."
Shrugging, he took to pacing again. "Perhaps. Maybe seeing another man hovering about you broke my fog."
"Well, I'm glad you can see things more clearly. That's not enough to change my mind."
He came closer and pried her hand from the folds of her jacket. "I think you should break with the duke and marry the man you've always loved. Marry me, Gaia."
The smooth sound of his voice wrapped around her, making her heart race with surprise. "What? Marry you? Are you sure you have the right Telfair? Wait a few years and Helena will be of age."
Stepping backwards, he held a sheepish grin, as if he dangled between full confession and a lie. "Well, you know your cousin is very fun, and pretty, and she had a dowry. Julia is also very pretty, perhaps prettier than Miss Rance, which made up for her small dowry. Everyone knows that very little or none exist for you or your younger sisters."
Her breathing became shallow as he lined out Gaia's prospects. "None of that has changed."
"It has. My father says the duke has offered to give Mr. Telfair four thousand pounds for your dowry if the engagement is broken. Now you're the equivalent of Miss Rance and Miss Julia. Our match would not be reprehensible."
What? This was about money. Lightning hadn't struck him. No grief over losing Gaia.
Yet William protected her again. He thought of her interests. She closed her eyes for a moment. William's arms were about her, rocking her near the cliffs. Lifting her lids, she stared at Elliot, the man she'd wanted forever, and felt numb. "So this new money is enough to make up for my looks and lack of charisma? Why, Elliot, you are setting the bar very low for a bride."
"I'm not saying this well. If you and Julia had the same dowry, I'd choose you. Your conversation is brilliant, and you'd understand the importance of my research more than Julia ever could. I'm not sure she'd know a lampiate from a nightshade."
Folding her arms, Gaia stamped her foot. "I don't either."
"But you have the capacity to learn. You are so caring, and a bit of sun would never hurt you. My father now says it is fine to wed you."
"Why?"
His brow pinched. "I'm older than you, and we have been Telfair neighbors forever. My father is aware of your mother's almost straying, but no one has seen that weakness in you or Julia."
Almost? So he didn't know the bigger scandal, and Julia didn't tell. Love for her sister battled the sour taste in her mouth. Elliot knew a tiny piece of Telfair baggage, but money, the duke's money, made a difference. "Mr. Whimple, you need to leave."
"Please, I'm clumsy at this. I know you love me. It doesn't matter how we got here. All that matters is I'm here now. My head is clear. It's you I want."
How many years had she wanted to hear these words? Something inside wanted to respond to the smoothness of his face, the strong jaw that she could draw in her sleep. However, it wasn't a kiss on her mind but a hard slap to his cheek that was what she wished to offer. "I asked you to leave."
"Please, give me one chance." He pried her hand free and kissed her fingers. His motion slowed, deliberate in nature.
She pulled away, as if his action were indecent. Maybe she was indecent, entertaining an offer when she was promised to another.
The door opened and Gaia chilled to the bone as William marched inside. "I think my lady asked for you to leave."
The duke looked furious, as if he would harm Elliot.
"Yes, Mr. Whimple, please leave. I am tired."
Elliot's head swiveled from her to the duke. "Just remember what I said. I'll be back tomorrow."
He brushed past William, their shoulders almost touching.
"Gaia, I'd like to speak with you, but what happened to you? Are you hurt?"
Though she wanted to turn from him, the pleading in his strong voice made her sigh. "I'm fine; a little tumble at my oak."
"If you were looking for me, you should've just come back to Ontredale."
"Why? To fight some more? Was there some damaged china you thought I broke?"
"No, I broke that after you left."
She squinted at him. "Shouldn't you be resting or accusing others of misdeeds?"
She covered her mouth. That wasn't generous, but she didn't feel generous.
"I deserve your censure. I shouldn't have suspected you, but you have to respect my wishes." He looked to the carpet. "Lovely Gaia, our friendship is new, and I shouldn't expect you would know how I want my household run any more than you should expect I have the good sense to know how to handle my temper."
"But to suspect me of—"
"I'm sorry, Gaia. I know you aren't Elizabeth. This is new for me, too. I don't seem any better at this marriage business than last time." He walked to the window and pulled back the curtains. Elliot's gig whipped by in the same instance. "Why was Whimple here?"
"He just learned of our engagement. He thinks I've lost my mind." She'd leave off the part about him proposing. Elliot didn't need the duke to be an enemy.
"With the blackmailer at large, maybe we should elope. Yes, you, me, and Mary, we should leave."
She folded her arms and moved closer to him. "So you still want to marry someone as dangerous as me?"
He leaned forward, his forehead tapping against the pane. "I was wrong."
The color of his face drained, making his golden skin ashen, as if he'd seen a ghost. He pulled the drapes closed, then towed her from the window. "You are dangerous, Gaia. I didn't realize you had the power to hurt me, to humble me in unimaginable ways; that
a turn of countenance in anger slices through me. I don't want you angry or hurt, or worse, away from me."
He said words that stole the air from her lungs. Weakness settled into her as his gaze bore into her heart, stripping her anger away. It was as if she stood naked before him, cold and naked. "But you said a long engagement, so we could be sure."
His arms draped about her like a fine cloak. The heat of him made her warm and secure, but could this last? When he knew the whole of things, would he still want her?
She slipped from his arms and put a hand to her racing heart. "You don't trust me. Maybe we are a mistake."
A tremor pressed his lip. "The only mistake is to wait and lose you. Promise me that you'll stay away from the windows. Don't ask why; I'll explain later."
He reached out and gripped a lock of her frizzy hair, curling it about his thumb. With care, he traced her chin, down to the throbbing vein along her throat. "Don't be contrary this once, and I'll spend a lifetime making it up to you."
Her bones began to melt just from the scent of him, rich tarragon. "Why must you always smell so good?"
It wasn't clear if she moved or if he did, but his lips were on hers, her mouth opening more and more to accept his desperate kiss. His tone deadened, planting fire along her ear, the line of her jaw. "I am not losing you, and I'll do better at keeping you from my temper. I'll return tomorrow. Be packed."
He pounded out of the house. Breathless and confused, she peeked through the curtains and watched William ride away. Nothing should be hidden from a couple in love, nothing. He might be sure of their marrying, but she wasn't.
The cold glass chilled her nose. She stepped back and bunched up the collar of her pelisse. He had a power over her body that frightened her. Was this how her mother felt, swept away in passion that blotted out right and wrong?
It was dangerous to be this out of control, and now that she had a name, a true name, Gaia feared abandoning it for any other, even St. Landon.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Painful Truth
WILLIAM STALKED INTO the drawing room. Deborah rode away before he could catch her. Was it the barrel of a gun or the sparkle of a pocket lens she'd pointed Gaia's direction?
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