“Have you considered how taking in this child might damage your reputation?”
Heather nearly gasped. She had wondered the same thing after she’d gotten to know Mr. Reed better, but for a guest in his home—especially a female guest—to voice such a thing … why, it simply wasn’t done.
“My son is more important to me than my reputation.”
Jamie glanced up at her and grinned. She cupped his cheek with her hand and smiled back, sincerely hoping he didn’t fully understand the nature of the conversation.
“Without a good reputation, what future will your son have?”
Heather was certain Mr. Reed must have some kind of relationship with these women for them to speak so candidly.
A long moment of silence reigned, and Jamie started fidgeting. Could he sense the tension in the room?
“I shall go see what’s keeping them.”
Heather stiffened as Mr. Reed strode out of the parlor and all but collided with her. His gaze captured hers, asking how much she’d heard. His lips pursed, and she wondered if he was upset with her for eavesdropping or angered by the Duponts’ bluntness. She leaned toward him. “We were waiting for … um … the heat of the conversation to die down.”
He stared for a moment then nodded. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that.” He squatted down in front of Jamie. “Ready to meet some of our neighbors and my mother’s friends?”
Jamie nodded and released her hand.
His mother’s friends. Not his? “I shall wait here until you’re finished with him.” Heather glanced around for a place to sit. “No, I want you to come, too.”
He held her gaze again. Her heart thudded hard. “Why do you need me?”
“I could use your support.” He transferred Jamie’s hand to his right hand and held out his elbow.
Heather stared at it, warmed and surprised by his offer to escort her when she was but a servant. She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right for me to enter on your arm, although I thank you for the offer. I’m a servant, and we don’t want to give your neighbors the wrong idea.”
His lips tightened, and a bit of the light drained from his eyes, but he nodded. “We shall talk about that later.”
He led Jamie into the parlor, but Heather halted in the doorway. What was there to talk about?
Two finely dressed women sat stiff and unwelcoming. Their eyes latched onto Jamie. The young woman’s gaze jerked up to inspect Heather. She was a beautiful woman with blond hair the color of flax piled atop her head in a becoming manner and unusual eyes that looked deep blue with a touch of purple. Perhaps her lovely lavender dress was reflected in her eyes. Everything about this woman spoke of wealth and quality. Even Heather’s new day dress paled in comparison to Miss Dupont’s. She shifted her feet, uncomfortable with the young woman’s stare. Why should this stranger be so interested in her?
The older woman wore a day dress of pale blue that complimented her medium brown hair and blue eyes. She continued to watch Jamie, although rather than pleased with the boy, she looked … saddened. Had Jamie’s arrival spoiled her plans for her daughter?
Mrs. Reed patted the sofa. “Jamie, come and sit by me. Miss Hawthorne, won’t you have a seat? I want to introduce you to our neighbors to the northwest, the Duponts. Gwenda and Hilary live at the Magnolia Mist plantation.”
Heather perched on the edge of the nearest chair and received their cold stares without flinching.
“Miss Hawthorne was so kind to bring Jamie to us. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have a grandson. I feel as if I’m in the springtime of my life again.” She kissed Jamie’s head. He stared into his lap, his cheeks turning crimson. “He’s such a dear boy, and can’t you see how much he resembles his father?”
“Indeed.” Miss Dupont flipped open a lavender fan that matched her dress and waved it in front of her face. “Do you plan to reside long at Reed Springs, Miss Hawthorne?”
Before she could answer, Mr. Reed said, “That remains unsettled. I’ve asked Miss Hawthorne to stay and serve as Jamie’s governess to ease his transition into our family.”
“I see.” Miss Dupont’s lips looked as if she’d sucked on a lemon. “And where do you hail from, Miss Hawthorne?”
“England, originally.” Heather was purposely vague.
“So, where do your loyalties lie? With England or America?”
Heather didn’t miss the woman’s challenge, but she wasn’t going to fall into her trap. She lifted her chin. “With Jamie.”
A small smile lifted one corner of Miss Dupont’s mouth as if saying touché.
“But surely you must have strong ties to England.”
She shook her head, realizing the truth. England meant little to her now. Everything she cared about was here. “Not any longer.”
Mrs. Dupont turned her attention to Jamie. “So, what do you think about your new home?”
Jamie shrugged and toed the carpet with his shoe. He wasn’t one to be shy with family, but he generally became quiet around strangers.
“Have you started learning your letters? Do you enjoy walking on stilts? Surely there’s something special you enjoy.”
He glanced at Heather then his father. “Papa’s going to teach me to ride, and he showed me where he builds ships.”
Heather’s heart lurched. She watched Mr. Reed to see his reaction to being called Papa for the first time.
He blinked his eyes several times and actually looked stunned just before he regained his composure. “That’s right, I plan to teach him to ride.”
“He’s too young for that, Lucas.” His mother gazed up, concern tightening her lips.
“I beg to differ, Mother, but he is not. I’ve been riding since I was three.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t like your father putting you tiny boys on those big horses. I was so afraid you’d fall off and get hurt.”
Mr. Reed smiled. “We did a time or two until we learned to hold on.”
His mother shook her head. “Men and their ideas. It’s a wonder that any child lives long enough to grow up.”
“I’m sure he will do fine,” said Mrs. Dupont. “Boys adapt to physical activities far more quickly and easily than girls.”
“Really, Mother, a girl could learn to ride just as easily as a boy if she had the proper instruction.” Miss Dupont patted her hair and smiled. “I was wondering, Lucas, if I might have a moment of your time to discuss an important matter.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw as he coolly stared at her. The difference in their behavior confused Heather. Miss Dupont referred to Mr. Reed by his Christian name and seemed highly familiar with him, while he was more reserved, tense, and withdrawn. “I suppose that can be arranged. We can step into the music room if you’d like.”
She arose, regal like a princess, and strutted toward him with a beguiling smile on her face. Glaring at Heather, she looped her arm through Mr. Reed’s without his offering it to her, then tugged him out of the room. At the doorway, he stopped suddenly. “Miss Hawthorne, would you be so kind as to serve as chaperone?”
Heather’s mouth went dry. She was glad to see the snippety woman leave the room, and she had no desire to follow them—although she was uncomfortable with the two of them being alone together. What if Miss Dupont said something about Jamie? She rose.
Jamie shot to his feet, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “Might I come, too, Aunt Heather?”
“You must ask your grandmother.”
He spun to face her. “May I go?”
Mrs. Reed smiled and laid her hand against his cheek. “I don’t suppose an active boy like you wants to listen to two old women’s prattle. You run along, and I shall see you later.”
“Really, Lucas, I wanted to speak to you in private.”
“Perhaps a walk in the garden would work better,” he said. “That way Miss Hawthorne and Jamie can chaperone us from afar.”
“I hardly think it’s necessary for those two to oversee us. It’s not as if I intend t
o take liberties with you.”
Mr. Reed narrowed his eyes then lifted one brow as if remembering a time Miss Dupont had done that very thing. Heather couldn’t help wondering if the woman had pressed her interest on him at one time or another. He moved a step ahead of Heather and glanced back over his shoulder at her, his expression imploring her to follow. She wanted to go along as little as Miss Dupont desired her to, but if her presence made Mr. Reed more comfortable, she’d go. Taking Jamie’s hand, she followed them to the door. Just before she went outside, she heard Mrs. Dupont say, “Really, Amelia. You must get rid of that girl as soon as possible. As far-fetched as it sounds, she’s turning Lucas’s eye away from Hilary, and we can’t …”
She closed the door, not hearing the final words. Surely the woman was mistaken. Mr. Reed had never shown the slightest interest in her. He was simply being kind because that was his nature. Yet didn’t his gaze linger a bit longer than was necessary at times? And his hands had prolonged contact when he’d helped her down from the ship the day they arrived. Why would he take a second look at her—an Englishwoman with no dowry—when he could have the lovely Miss Dupont by his side?
What stuff and nonsense.
nine
Lucas escorted Miss Dupont down the front stairs and into the garden. A variety of flowers had already opened up and filled the air with their sweet scent. Butterflies flitted from bloom to bloom, peaceful and quiet, soothing his irritation. He’d known some of his friends and acquaintances would question if he was doing the right thing by taking in Jamie, but his heart indeed confirmed that he was. He’d already grown to love the boy.
Hilary glanced over her shoulder, staring back at Miss Hawthorne and Jamie, where they lingered at the beginning of the garden. She edged closer to him. “Really, Lucas, I don’t see why you had to insist we have a chaperone.”
“We wouldn’t want tongues wagging now, would we?”
“Just what do you think will happen when word gets out about that boy living here? Why couldn’t you board him in some school and provide for him that way? Why is it necessary to bring him into your home?”
He stopped and turned to face her, causing her to release his arm. “Because he’s a Reed.”
“He’s a—”
“Hold your tongue, woman. That’s my son you’re referring to.” Lucas had never held a special interest for Miss Dupont, other than to admire her beauty, as did every other man she encountered. He thought her a silly girl, somewhat younger than he, and found her efforts to snag him for a husband humorous. Until today, he hadn’t realized what a vixen she was.
She stomped her foot. “I won’t let that … that … boy come between us. When we marry, our children will be your rightful heirs, not that—”
Lucas held up his hand. “You forget yourself, madam. How is it you remember me proposing when I have not done so?”
Her eyes turned pleading, and her cheeks a bright red. She stuck out her lower lip in a pout that he assumed other men found enchanting, but the effort was wasted on him. “Everyone knows we have an understanding.”
He quirked a brow. “Everyone but me, it would seem. I never said or did anything that should lead you to believe I wanted to marry you. I don’t know that I’ll ever marry.”
She clutched his arm. “But you must. You can’t leave all your wealth for that scoundrel brother of yours to inherit. I could give you a son, many rightful sons. Don’t you know that I love you?”
Lucas heaved a sigh. He’d never been quite sure if Hilary Dupont was an innocent, spoiled woman or if she was crafty and sly. At the social events he’d attended, he noticed she often used her beauty and flirtatious ways to get the man she had designs on to lavish his attentions on her. He’d never succumbed to her childish games, but had she somehow gotten the impression that he had? Heavenly Father, how do I get out of this without wounding her deeply?
He cleared his throat. “I ask your forgiveness if I gave you the wrong impression, Miss Dupont. I never committed to marry you and am sorry if I did anything that implied I wanted to. I’m sure in time you will find a worthier man on whom to bestow your devotion.”
Her blue eyes flashed. “Surely you know our mothers have had an arrangement since we were children. Everyone expects that we will marry.”
He shook his head, more than a little confused. “How is it everyone but me understands this?”
“Because you’re a stubborn buffoon who can’t appreciate the woman right in front of your eyes.”
Not true. His gaze darted to Miss Hawthorne. Now there was a woman he appreciated. From her sweet nature to her love for Jamie to her intriguing brown eyes.
“Not her. I meant me. How can you prefer that English trollop over a woman of my standing? How do you know the boy isn’t really hers and she’s just trying to pawn him off as yours to worm her way into your money box? All because he has the same coloring as you?”
Lucas stepped back as if slapped. “Woman, you forget yourself. Do not impose on my hospitality by slandering the very woman who had the gumption to travel a thousand miles to bring Jamie to me. I’ll not have you belittle her.”
“Humph!” Miss Dupont flung her head sideways, lifting her chin. “I see. Well, I shan’t waste anymore time in a place where I’m not welcome. I shall turn my attentions elsewhere, and I shall see that my father no longer does business with you.”
She swirled around and marched away, her lavender skirts swaying back and forth like a bell. As she passed a rosebush, a gust of warm wind blew, snagging the fabric. She halted, shrieked a noise that put Lucas in mind of a pig squeal, and yanked her skirt. A ripping sound made her gasp. She flung a wounded look his way then stomped toward the garden entrance.
Miss Hawthorne noted her coming and moved Jamie to her other side and out of her way. Hilary halted, said something that made Miss Hawthorne go pale, then stomped up the stairs and back into the house.
Miss Hawthorne cast a glance at him, said something to Jamie, then dashed off toward the pond. His son strolled toward him, looking concerned.
What in the world had that woman said?
Heather had never before been so insulted. A hussy, indeed. And the word Miss Dupont had called Jamie—why she’d never heard a woman utter such vile accusations. What had Mr. Reed said to cause that woman to turn fangs on her?
She marched toward the pond and past it to the charming arched bridge that spanned the wide creek, trying to shake her irritation and embarrassment. Atop the bridge, she halted, staring into the water. Recent flower blossoms, which had yielded to new spring leaves, floated along on the slow current, stealing away some of her anger. A turtle sitting on a rock near the shore basked in the warm sunlight. Being able to walk around outside in April without a cloak was a delight. If only she could enjoy it.
She heaved a heavy sigh. Clearly that woman thought Heather was Jamie’s mother and that she was lying about Lucas being the father. Miss Dupont said she was a swindler, stealing from the Reeds. Tears formed in Heather’s eyes, blurring the lovely view, but she blinked them away.
That woman had no idea how much it had cost her to bring Jamie here. He was the only person she had left in her life. Her mother was gone, and now her father. Without Jamie, she’d be alone. Completely alone.
She sucked in a sob. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—think about that now.
Jamie was still a part of her life for the time being, and she’d enjoy every moment.
In the back of her mind, a voice whispered, He could have been yours alone if you hadn’t been so honorable. His father never would have known about him. You could have kept him.
She swatted the air, chasing away a mosquito and her wayward thoughts. Too late for such shameful regrets. Jamie would have a better life here, and hers would be better just knowing he was well cared for and loved.
If only there was someone who loved her.
She stood for a while, enjoying the beauty of the serene setting and allowing the peacefulness to calm her wo
rries. The trees swayed on the light breeze, flies buzzed past her, flowers of red, purple, white, and yellow dotted the shore like an artist’s palette. Birds peeped above her head, and across the bank about fifteen feet downstream, a huge spider had spun a massive web that stretched between two trees and glimmered in the sunlight.
All she had to do was not think of the day she and Jamie would be parted, and she could bear it.
Footsteps echoed beside her on the bridge, but she kept her focus forward. She wanted to be alone, but she was shirking her duties. If she didn’t tend Jamie, some other servant would have to abandon her own duties to watch him.
Mr. Reed stopped beside her. His large hands grasped the top of the bridge, and he stared out at the water as she did. “It’s beautiful here this time of year, is it not?”
She held her tongue, halfway afraid of what she might say. At least he hadn’t come here to scold her.
He heaved a loud sigh and hung his head. “For whatever Miss Dupont said to you, I sincerely apologize.”
“‘Tis not your place to express regret on her part.”
“No, but she is our guest and had no right spewing her anger on you.”
Again, Heather wondered what had passed between the two to make the woman lash out as she had. Could they have had a lover’s quarrel? Had the woman said something as vile about Jamie to Mr. Reed as she’d spoken to her?
He glanced over his shoulder and back in the direction of the house. Anyone looking out the front parlor window could surely see them together. He straightened and pointed to the far side of the bridge. “Have you ever ventured down that path?”
“Nay.” She shook her head. “After your mention of alligators, I was afraid to take Jamie anywhere near the wooded areas or ponds.”
“Would you walk with me? I have some things to discuss with you.”
She glanced up. Had he already found a replacement for her? Had he changed his mind about keeping Jamie in the face of his friend’s outburst?
She was half afraid to agree, but she had no choice. For now, he was her employer. “Aye,” she all but whispered.
Mutiny of the Heart Page 7