Unmasked Heart

by Vanessa Riley

  A fresh wave of anger washed over him as he glanced at the tea tray and the yellow carpet on which his head had bounced. His fingers folded into fists. Would she try to hurt Gaia?

  The woman could've killed him with her poison, or worse, made him think he'd attacked her. Had her desperation turned against Gaia? He rubbed his skull. Deborah wasn't capable of murder. He'd find his cousin and set the chit straight. St. Landon baggage was tolling higher; scandal, evil cousin, too much for a peaceful marriage to Gaia here. No, they had to get away as soon as possible.

  Stelford stood warming his hands by the fireplace. The man was unkempt, still wearing his waistcoat and breeches from the night before.

  "I'm sorry, my friend. I guess this was not an easy time for anyone." William walked near and patted the man on the back. "But I must thank you again for saving my life."

  Pivoting, Stelford caught his gaze. "You would have done the same."

  Clear, untainted eyes looked back at William. His friend must be so undone, he'd skipped his drink.

  William outstretched his hand. "I owe you."

  "You don't." Stelford backed away, and then paced from the mantle to the piano then to the bay window. "I'm the debtor."

  Something in his manner made the hair on William's neck rise. He moved to the sofa and sank into the cushions. "I'm listening."

  Stelford made an audible gulp. "Lizzy's favorite flowers were yellow roses." He pounded on his chest. "I gathered them near and far for her. Her face shimmered when she laughed and a tiny crinkle set in her forehead whenever she angered. And when we kissed, the world stilled."

  Looking at the flintlock mounted on the wall over the sideboard, and back to his alleged friend, William held his breath.

  "Yes, I was Elizabeth's lover."

  It would take twenty seconds to grab the gun, but at least one minute to retrieve the shots from his trunk in his bedchamber. Hot air fell from William's nose. "How could you?"

  "Elizabeth and I were always in love. We were going to be married until her father and the late duke decided you two should wed."

  "That can't be. You would've—or she would've told—"

  "How could I tell you when you fell in love with her at first sight? She knew I was your friend, but said nothing." Stelford balled his fist and pounded his forehead. "I think she thought it was the best way to keep us both close: I, her slave, and you, her respectable husband."

  Stelford started moving. "We were together the night before your wedding. She said she'd call off the ceremony, but went through with it anyway."

  Elizabeth was so withdrawn that day. William thought she was shy, and needed to become used to marriage. He dropped his head into his hands.

  "I tried very hard not to succumb to her draw. I stayed away until you wrote me to check on her near her time of confinement. She was your wife, but she was so vulnerable with her lay-in, then depressed after Mary's birth. Her tears, her need to be loved. She broke me."

  Blood rushing to his ears, William tried to slow his rushing pulse. "Is Mary mine?"

  "She's not mine. We never technically broke her vows, but we loved in our hearts and in the letters we drafted to each other." He pulled from his pocket an off-white stack of notes, Elizabeth's stationery, and folds of Stelford's private, blue-tinted paper and put them on the mantle.

  Bile filling his throat, William lifted from the sofa. "You were there the night she died, before she fell."

  "I was. We were going to run away to Scotland, but I told her I changed my mind. We argued in Mary's room. The baby started to cry, and she backhanded her into the rail."

  With slow, labored steps, William approached the traitor. "She hurt Mary?"

  "Yes. I suggested we get a doctor to look at her. Elizabeth became enraged and struck me, then grabbed the baby. I didn't know what she was going to do. I gave chase and took Mary from her arms. She lashed out wildly, lost her balance, and fell down the stairs. By the time I situated Mary and got to Elizabeth…" Stelford's voice broke. "Lizzy died in my arms."

  William came within three feet of the man who’d had an affair with his duchess. "Why are you telling me this now? Why not when I returned to Cheshire with a loaded gun?"

  "The guilt has been eating me alive. Miss Telfair thinks that I'm trying to drink it away. She's right."

  Gaia knew? She betrayed him, too. Unable to restrain himself anymore, he lunged at Stelford. In a blink, his hands were about the man's throat. "How does Miss Telfair know? Did you share this sordid business with everyone but me, or were you trying to strike again and steal the woman I'm to marry?"

  Prying free, Stelford gasped, "Last night, Miss Telfair found letters in Mary's trunk. The woman suggested I had the good sense to come clean."

  William pinned him against the wall and stretched for the spear on the suit of armor. Out of his reach by six inches. Instead, he reared back his fist.

  "Go ahead. I deserve it. The guilt of breaking our friendship, of thinking Lizzy'd still be alive if I'd run off with her….I can't take it anymore."

  Something held William back from pummeling the broken backstabber. His arm became heavier than lead, and he couldn't make a fist to darken Stelford's daylights. He released him and threw him to the floor.

  While his flesh wanted nothing more than to snuff the life out of Stelford, a small part of William's heart knew the weight of the guilt the man carried. Perhaps, God now gave William the power to curb his anger. Wretched timing for that miracle. "Oh, get out of my sight."

  Stelford crawled then sprang to his feet. "Someday I'll make this right."

  "There's nothing you or anyone on this earth can do to correct this. Go! Be out before I change my mind."

  "I will make amends." The door shuddered as the fiend departed.

  William stormed to the mantle, picked up the pile of notes, and burned them in the fire.

  Alone, physically and mentally, he sank upon his knees. His best friend stole Elizabeth, and now Whimple sniffed at Gaia. A chill swept over him as he imagined his father pounding his altar, his voice echoing condemnation for Miss Oliver, Elizabeth, William, Stelford, and even poor Gaia. "God, I don't want to live in condemnation. I can't fix me or Mary, or anything without You. I surrender."

  He covered his eyes from the glow of the flames. His misery-prayer warrior would be proud, but no peace ushered into his veins. Could he outrun the demons of the past with no good friend and no Gaia?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  To Elope

  WILLIAM DROPPED ONTO the sofa. His note of apology for rushing Gaia to elope had surely arrived at Chevron hours ago. Two in the afternoon, according to his pocket watch, and no fiancée. The sun shot golden rays through the bay window. She should be here so that they could rationally plan what to do. He wasn't opposed to eloping, but he had to make sure it was what she wanted.

  Where was she? Could she still be mad?

  Women… well, men, too, were contrary. The house seemed frozen since Stelford's departure. He took the life from Ontredale.

  Playing with the brass buttons on his waistcoat, he counted the flickers of the wall candles. Other than reading to Mary, he hadn't had a very productive day.

  Right now, he wouldn't mind entertaining neighbors, but, as word spread of his engagement, the visitors thinned. No need for the matchmakers to darken his door. Well, that would be the case if he hadn't ruined things with Gaia.

  He sighed out of frustration. This must be the low point his father preached from the pulpit, but where was the way out of no way? It couldn't be for him. There was too much guilt and shame piled on his plate even for the Lord to reach him.

  He closed his eyes. Gaia's olive face floated near. Then, he heard her sweet voice talking to God.

  A laugh started from his mouth, but it turned to sorrow. He swiped at a wet droplet on his cheek. Maybe he wasn't desperate enough last night. He surely felt helpless now. "God, are you there? Have you forgotten me?"

  He sat up. "Lord, don't forget me or my Mary.
Please accept my repentance."

  Opening his eyes, he didn't feel foolish. Saying it aloud allowed cool air to fill his chest.

  The doors to the drawing room flew open.

  William jumped up and stared face to face with Stelford. "What are you doing here, Judas?"

  Stelford yanked off his dark beaver cap. "I have some news. You must listen to me."

  Turning to the flintlock on the wall, William chided himself. Still not enough time to go get those bullets. "I think you've told me enough."

  His betrayer stalked around the sofa, and clasped William's shoulder. "My spy, the cook, said the Telfair girl is eloping. If we leave now, we can intercept them."

  William staggered backwards, bumping into the piano. He gripped the edge of the curved music box for balance. That's why she wasn't here. How could this happen?

  Stelford walked closer. "If we hurry, we can catch her at the post. That's where they'd buy passage for the post chaise. We can go get your intended back."

  Looking to his boots, William scuffed the points. Not his Gaia. Why didn't he tell her he loved her last night? His pride stopped him. Maybe it was best this happened now, before she could scorn his love, just like Elizabeth.

  Knowing Gaia was in Whimple's arms, laughing at William's heart, would kill him. His battered vanity couldn't take another disappointment.

  He lifted his chin and caught Stelford's gaze. "Why have you come; to rub this in my face?"

  Stelford ripped his gloves off and stashed them in his pocket, his gaze dipping the entire time. "No. I want to right my wrong. I need to prove my worth to you. You are my oldest friend."

  Folding his arms to keep from strangling the bearer of bad news, William walked to the window. "If Miss Telfair has chosen to love another, what kind of fool would it make me to give chase?"

  Stelford's voice boomed. "One in love! If I had been bold enough to confront you before your wedding, or if I had attended the ceremony instead of waiting for Elizabeth to come to me, none of us would be in this sorry shape."

  Turning, he stormed a few inches from Stelford and glared. "Leave Ontredale. I haven't shot you yet. You know I'm not a patient man, but I am a brilliant shot."

  The anguished fool twisting the brim of his hat took a step backward. "You are a good shot. Wellington couldn't have had a better man in the field, but the war is over. This is a new battle. Does the lady know she's broken through your armor? Did you tell her you love her?"

  "Stelford, I'm done loving another man's woman."

  "Fine, I'll go find her and convince her to return. I will earn your forgiveness by saving you from this mistake." The man stomped from the room.

  William pushed at his hair, and then rubbed his temples. At least Gaia attained what she’d always wanted. He should be happy for that, but his insides churned.

  Mrs. Wingate came in with a tray of tea. "Sir, anything the matter?"

  "I am no longer engaged. Miss Telfair has flown away."

  The woman's lips pressed into a frown. "I am sorry, sir. It is probably for the best, given the St. Landon-Telfair history."

  "What are you talking about?"

  She shook her head. "You don't know?"

  "No riddles, Mrs. Wingate."

  "Your father. He arranged for a free man to be sold into slavery for forcing himself on a white woman, but the man wasn't guilty. You could tell by the way the woman looked at him."

  William's hands fisted as his impatience took control of him. "What are you saying?"

  "Your father arranged for a black, an African from Port Elizabeth, to be sold into slavery, Gaia Telfair's natural father. He claimed to be of a royal line, here in England to help his tribe."

  "Where did my father sell him?"

  "To Jamaica; he sought help from here for the money to make it all happen."

  Horror thundered in his heart. "Jamaica is a death sentence. They don't have the same laws. There are no rights for slaves outside of England."

  The old woman put her hand to her mouth as her head swiveled to the door.

  He turned and froze, too, for Gaia and little Timothy stood at the entry.

  Her face dulled, as if she might faint, and William leapt up to go to her, but stopped with arms outstretched. How could he touch her? How could she want anything from the son of a slaver, the son of the man who surely caused her father to die?

  Gaia shook her head, but the shock remained. William's father had done it. Money from Ontredale, the place she wanted to call home, had financed it.

  She blinked hard and pushed the feeling of lightheadedness away. St. Landon blood had made Gaia's birth father disappear. William said death sentence. Tears leaked from her eyes.

  "Gaia?" William scrambled closer. His face appeared blank with no smirk, frown, or smile on his face. "Is this true?"

  Her heart beat hard, and she could only stare. "What part?"

  "Gaia, is it true?"

  Edging to within three paces, he crossed the rug. His fingers fidgeted. One hand ran through his hair, the other tugging and straightening his dark colored waistcoat. "It can't be true. My father couldn't have been so cruel, and you don't look..."

  His gaze went to his boots. "Say something."

  What did he want from her? The shame of being the product of an affair had disappeared, but she was still of mixed race and almost illegitimate. "I know part of it is true. I am black. My father let everyone believe a lie to protect my mother."

  Thinking of her blood father's sacrifice, she lifted her head high. "My brother and I will leave. Mr. Whimple may still be outside. He brought us to you.

  William leapt over the sofa and pulled her stiff form into his arms. "Run to me, Gaia, not away."

  Her breath caught, being held so firmly against his chest. She didn't think she'd ever be in his arms again once the truth was exposed.

  His solid voice held cracks, almost stuttering. "Mrs. Mrs. Wingate, make the boy, Master Timothy comfortable. Sweets and milk. We… his sister and I need to go."

  She pried out of his desperate embrace, with heart still racing from his touch. "I'm not eloping with you today. We need to talk. I'm here to talk."

  He spun her toward the door. "Yes, but your sister has eloped and if it's not the botanist, it could be someone less worthy." Clasping her palm, he swiveled to Albert. "Bring my hat and coat. Send for horses."

  Before Gaia could order her thoughts or voice a complaint, William had placed her on a mount and had come alongside her.

  "What if Julia has found love, but it's not to someone who Devonshire would think deserving? What if he's of a different class or race? Why should I stop her?"

  His hand went toward her chin but he fingered her bonnet. "Had she spoken of anyone?"

  "No."

  "Then how could the intentions be honorable? You have to try going through the front door before you find a window."

  She nodded and gripped the reins. "I suppose sneaking about isn't best."

  "This isn't like our meeting in the woods. Gaia, we have much to discuss about us, but we must save your sister first. Her ruin will make this even more complicated, hurting you and your other sisters even more."

  "I was th..." The heat or hurt in his eyes made her speech falter. "I wasn't thinking of me, just of her happiness. She's tired of being overlooked."

  Snatching up Magnus's straps, he made the horse lunge. "Keep up prayer warrior. We have some riding to do."

  Either William was a great actor, or the news that he was engaged to a mulatto hadn't sunk in. Could he have known? Had he sought her out, made her dream of him just to assuage guilt? Was she nothing more than a pawn to spite his late father?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Riding to Salvation

  The onyx mare beneath her moved at a steady pace. Riding had been a rare treat, but one Gaia relished. William's stiff posture bounced at least six paces ahead. When he looked back, only a frown filled his face.

  She slowed him down. He must regret his decision for
her to accompany him, but the more she thought it, she couldn't have sat idly by, waiting for a man to save the day. Men.

  Tightening her fingers about the reins, she pushed and caught up to within a few strides. If she hadn't been so tired and confused by William's insistence they elope, she would've thought more of her sister. The girl had the opportunity to tell Elliot the truth about Gaia's paternity, but didn't. Sisterly affection won after all.

  A wave of guilt slapped her stomach, churning it. Did Elliot use careless words in his break about her intelligence, as he had said to Gaia? Men. What words did Mr. Telfair use to blame her mother for the stillborn twins? Did guilt and loss of her father make her succumb to consumption a few years later?

  William's strong figure bounded ahead. His eyes must be focused on the road, not his mulatto fiancée.

  What if he hadn't known and just found out? Would he remember every time his lips were on hers? Was he thanking his good fortune he found out now before they married?

  Gaia remembered each time. This fantasy life of being happy with William needed to end. Wasn't it obvious how things had changed, with no jokes, no touches?

  Anger rolled in her stomach, torching everything. His father, the fire and brimstone pariah of the parish, he was the guilty person. The awful man pounding his pulpit, divining God's words, twisted things for his parishioners. The Oliver dressing- down was nothing compared to sending a man into slavery to endure hard labor and death.

  Her birth father was dead. She’d only had him for less than a day, but his sacrifice, his love for her mother and Gaia in the womb, filled her. And now ugliness stole him again.

  Eyes watering with sorrow, she glanced again at William's straight posture. He looked as if he were going to war. If he didn't know, this news—her race, the actions of his father—must torture him. How could William and Gaia go on together?

  With a tug, she secured her bonnet and tapped her spectacles to a higher spot on her nose. Leaning into her mount, she forced the horse to catch up to William. Now they walked side by side.