by Wendy Vella
Samantha looked at James, who shrugged, and then to the window where a weak sun was trying to break through the clouds.
“Sunshine yellow.”
Remembering the darkness of Raven Castle, James immediately understood his sister's need to live in the light.
“Excellent choice, Samantha, and now we will leave Mrs. Gotheram and go shopping.”
“She is a very nice woman,” James said as they left the nursery. “You have nothing to fear from her,” he added as his sister pressed closer to his leg. At least she wasn't pulling away from him.
“Really?”
“Really,” he affirmed, taking her hand in his once more. He liked the feeling of it tucked inside his and realized it was something he could get used to. Funny, he'd never really understood the need for personal contact, but he was beginning to.
They left the house once Samantha had pulled on her bonnet and gloves, both equally as drab and ugly as her dress. Once in the carriage, they headed out through the busy London streets, with James pointing out sights for his sister along the way. She sat very still listening and watching, her hands in her lap, placed one on top of the other.
James wondered if you could hate a man more every day, especially as he was dead. Sending his father several curses for what he had done to Samantha, he vowed again to do whatever he needed to make her understand there was good in the world, in him, and that he would never harm her.
When the carriage stopped, he got out and lifted her down beside him.
“This is a store that has some of the things I believe we need, Samantha.” At least he hoped it did. Buttles had told him it was the place to start. Taking her hand in his once more, he entered and found his butler had been correct. It appeared to have row upon row of books; surely some of them would be suitable for a young girl.
“There are a great many books, James.” Samantha's eyes were wide as she looked from side to side, taking it all in.
“Yes, there certainly are.” The smell was musty and yet spoke of many hours of wonderful reading adventures hidden between the pages before them. James remembered the first day he had entered a bookshop and purchased whatever he wanted. The sense of freedom had made his knees weak.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.” James nodded to the proprietor as he approached.
“We have a large amount of books suitable for children upstairs, as well as other toys that the young lady would like to see, I'm sure.”
“Excellent, thank you. That is where we shall head then.”
They climbed the stairs with Samantha leading the way, her little legs hampered by her thick skirts and the sturdy boots on her feet.
“Oh,” she said when they reached the top. If possible there was the same amount of books as downstairs. “May I go and look, please?”
“Of course,” James said, heading toward the first shelf himself. “Take as much time as you need, Samantha.” He soon found himself as engrossed in the collection before him as his sister.
“Can we add this book to the collection, Samantha?” James said, holding up the tales of Robinson Crusoe some time later. The tutor his father had sent him had never allowed him to read anything like this, but he had heard other boys discussing it at school.
“Yes.” She nodded, her face a picture of concentration as she once again turned to the book of fables she was studying. “Can I have this one, James?”
“Of course,” he said, taking the large book with bright-colored fairies flying all over the cover from her. He may not be able to go back and make the last few years easier for her, but he would bloody well try to make the rest better.
Samantha had lost some of her reserve toward him as the minutes ticked by, and was now showing him one book after the other; in fact their pile was growing with every one she viewed.
“Can I look over there now, James?” Samantha pointed to another room. She seemed eager and he wondered what she had seen to cause such excitement.
After organizing for their purchases to be delivered, James followed his sister. He was surprised at how much he'd enjoyed accompanying her to the store. He found her on her knees before a large dollhouse; the front was open and she was studying the inside intently. Crouching beside her, he looked inside.
“There is a small table and chairs and a bed too,” Samantha whispered reverently, as if she did not want to wake the tiny people who slept inside.
“This is a nice doll,” James said, picking up one that lay beside the house. It had black ringlets, green eyes, and a dress of bright pink with ruffles.
“She is very beautiful, just like Eden and Essex, don't you think, James?”
“Hmmm” was all he could manage by way of agreement. Eden intruded far too much on his thoughts without his sister reminding him of her beauty.
It was testament to just how far their relationship had come in such a short time that he felt only slightly awkward discussing dolls with his little sister.
“James.”
“Yes, Samantha.”
He knew what she wanted; he could see the longing in her eyes as she looked down at the doll now in her hands. But he wanted her to ask him if she could have it. He wanted her to feel comfortable with him.
“C-can I have her?”
“Yes, but you must give her a pretty name to match her face.”
“Eden,” Samantha whispered.
“Ah... no,” James said, feeling his necktie tighten and restrict his breathing. “I think she should have her own name, don't you? Not someone else's.”
Samantha looked at the doll then back at him and nodded.
“Thank you, James.”
“You're welcome.”
She struggled to her feet, clasping the doll to her chest. Her eyes were level with his now, and then she bent at the waist and kissed his cheek.
“It is the most wonderful gift in the world.”
“No,” James rasped, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. “You are the most wonderful gift in the world.”
Her smile lit her entire face.
“Samantha!”
James heard the squeal from behind him and knew it was a Sinclair. Regaining his feet, he inhaled, pushing the emotion that choked him aside. Bracing himself he then turned. The twins were running toward Samantha, squealing loudly, and Eden was following slowly behind. The little girls soon joined Samantha on the floor and were immediately lost in the world of dolls while their sister had stopped several feet away looking everywhere but at him.
“Have you come to purchase books, or dolls?” James said, hoping to draw her gaze.
“Neither. My sisters grew tired of watching the dress fittings, so I brought them here until Essie and my aunt are finished.”
“And have you all settled in?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Her words were polite and distant, which was what he had wanted. James closed the distance between them, forcing her to retreat or look at him; he knew she would choose the latter. She had been crying, he could see the pallor of her cheeks and redness in her eyes. Someone had upset her and he could do nothing to control the rage that flooded his body.
“Who has made you cry?” His hand wrapped around her wrist as she turned to leave. “Tell me, Eden.”
“Release me at once.”
“Not until you tell me who has made you cry.”
“I am no concern of yours, Duke. I have family who look after my welfare.”
“They do not appear to be doing a very good job,” James whispered. There was so much sadness in the gray depths of her eyes that his stomach churned.
“No good can come of this, James, so please release me, and keep your distance.”
“Eden, come and see these dolls!”
Wrenching free, she hurried to her sisters. He watched as she hugged Samantha. His sister did not respond, but also did not pull away.
“They are beautiful, my loves.”
“Look at this one, James.”
James
moved to stand before Dorset Sinclair and took the doll he was handed while his mind grappled with the fact that Eden had been crying. Surely he was not the cause? Had she lain awake last night thinking of their kisses?
“It is time for your fittings now, girls,” Eden said minutes later. Once again she looked everywhere but at him.
“We are to have new clothes, Samantha,” Dorrie said, taking the doll back from James and replacing it reluctantly on the shelf.
“Would we be asking too much to join your fitting, ladies?” he said quickly before he gave himself time to think. James had not the first idea how to go about procuring his sister new clothes. “Samantha is in need of new clothing also and as we are yet to secure a companion for her, the task, I am afraid, is left to me—a man.”
Eden muttered something that he did not catch, but thought it better he hadn't, if the look on her face was any indication.
“If you wish, Duke, we will take care of Samantha's needs and return her home to you in a while. There really is no need for you to accompany us.”
“His name is James, Eden.”
He didn't smile as her teeth snapped together at Somer's words, but at least her eyes now held fire instead of sadness.
“If it will not be too much of an inconvenience, I would be most grateful for your assistance, Eden.”
James had a task that he needed to see to, and this would give him the opportunity to do so.
“Thank you, James,” Samantha whispered. Her little face had lost the pinched look of a few days ago and he thought she looked happier. Perhaps some of it was the Sinclairs’ presence, but he also believed their blossoming relationship was helping.
“I have a few errands to run, Samantha, and then I will return home.”
“In that case, we shall keep Samantha with us until you collect her, if you wish?”
“Very well, and thank you, Eden. I shall call at the Wynburg residence later today.”
After a round of curtseying they left, and James wondered again who had made Eden cry and how he could find out.
...
He stepped from his carriage before a small brick-fronted building, tucked discreetly down a narrow lane. Taking the four front steps in two strides, James knocked twice on the white door. Seconds later he was ushered into a parlor that held a desk, two chairs, and a large cabinet. Rather than sit in one of the two upright chairs he walked slowly around the room.
Devonshire Sinclair had given James Mr. Spriggot's name yesterday, telling him the man was one of the best private detectives in the business. James had not questioned the eldest Sinclair on how he knew this, he had merely nodded and taken the card. Sinclair may irritate him with his knowing looks and continual teasing, but he was an honorable man and he had saved James's life, therefore he was trustworthy.
“Your Grace,” a small thin man said, walking into the room. “I am Mr. Spriggot.”
James shook the offered hand before lowering himself into a seat; the man circled the desk and did the same.
“How may I be of service to you this day?”
James could understand why Spriggot was so good at his work, as he had an appearance that was easily forgettable. Small, thin, and with a face that held little if no expression, the man would blend easily in any crowd. His eyes however were another matter entirely; the dark depths were alive with curiosity.
“Someone is trying to kill me, Mr. Spriggot, and as I have no wish for them to succeed, I would like to employ your services to ensure that does not eventuate.”
Rather than appear startled as most people would in learning that someone was trying to eradicate one of the more powerful peers of the realm, Mr. Spriggot's brow furrowed in thought.
“I have come to you as I wish the investigation to be undertaken with the utmost privacy, and was assured you were the man for this.”
“I will do what I can, your Grace. Now then,” he picked up a quill, dipped it in the ink, and looked up at James, “I shall need all the details you have, and I would ask for half my fee up front if you please.”
The man had obviously dealt with several members of society in his time, James thought, pulling some notes from his pocket. Many aristocrats believed they did not need to pay as others did for the services rendered to them. He should be affronted but wasn't; in fact he respected the man for daring to ask him for money.
“Excellent, now please begin to relate the facts in a slow and concise manner and I will make notes.”
James did as he asked, telling him about the attempt made on his life.
“An extremely brave lady to have taken such a risk, your Grace, if I may say so.”
“Yes, I will forever be in her debt.”
Mr. Spriggot scratched a few more notes before lifting his head once more to look at James.
“Can you tell me anything about the men, your Grace?”
“I cannot. However, the woman who rescued me said one of the men was called Syd, and that they referred to the man who wanted me dead as 'his lordship.'“
“You have obviously given thought to who may want you dead, your Grace. Heirs, business dealings gone wrong?”
“I do not have business dealings go wrong, Mr. Spriggot, and my heir at this point in time is my cousin, but I have no reason to believe it is he. Last I heard he was in America building a vast fortune. There are of course other family members here in London, but they are not due to inherit should I die.”
Mr. Spriggot questioned James thoroughly until he believed he had all the facts he needed.
“I shall begin my investigations at once, your Grace.”
“I should be grateful,” James said, getting to his feet.
“May I also enquire how you came to know my name, as I usually only work with clients who have used my services before, your Grace.”
“Lord Sinclair gave me your name, sir.”
Nodding, the small man smiled, although it was not a gesture that warmed his face, just the smallest baring of his teeth and then it was gone.
“A very shrewd man, if you don't mind me saying so, your Grace. I have a great deal of respect for Lord Sinclair.”
James wanted to ask what services Sinclair had used Spriggot for, yet he remained silent. The information was not his to know. Nodding good-bye, he left the establishment and climbed into his carriage to start the journey back to the Wynburg townhouse, where he would collect Samantha and once again see Eden.
Who had made her cry?
“You have to stop this, James, she is not now, nor will she ever be part of your life.” Feeling better for this bracing talk, he sat back and watched London roll by his window.
CHAPTER TEN
“Take the carriage back to the stables please, Nolan. Lady Samantha and I will walk back to the house.”
James walked up the steps to the Wynburg townhouse with the sound of his carriage rolling away. His knock was answered instantly and he was ushered inside seconds later.
“If you will follow me, your Grace, the family are expecting you.”
He had been inside the Earl and Countess’s home only once before for a ball. It was plush and grand on a scale he had rarely seen, yet he still felt the warmth reach out and wrap around him as he followed the straight back of the butler down a hall and up several flights of stairs. He smelled the fresh sweet scent of flowers and beeswax. Visions of his youth filtered through his head and James tried to remember if Raven Castle had ever had flowers dotted in vases or bright splashes of color upon the walls, but all he could see was darkness and the heavy weight of silence.
“The Duke of Raven.”
James entered the room after the butler had announced him and came to a halt just inside the door.
“Raven, you are just in time.” Lady Wynburg hurried forward and took his hand. “Come and take a seat as the show is about to begin.”
James allowed her to tow him to a seat, simply because he was incapable of speech or movement himself.
“Doesn't Samantha look swe
et?”
He managed to nod at the countess’s words as he looked at his sister. She stood wrapped in gold satin, a small felt hat on her head. She looked at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. Dear Lord, she thinks I will put a stop to whatever it is I have walked into. Clearing his throat, he somehow formed a smile, and watched the anxiety fall from her face.
“Are we ready, ladies and gentlemen?”
Eden spoke from behind the piano and James dragged his eyes from Samantha and wished he hadn't. She sat under a window in a pale lemon dress that the sun had turned to a soft glow. He was relieved that all he could see of her was her neck and shoulder, although she had such a graceful neck and he longed to place his lips right at the base and kiss the soft skin. Muttering something vile beneath his breath, he crossed his legs and forced himself to focus on the children, not the lush temptress playing the piano.
Somer, Dorrie, and Samantha all stood together dressed in various costumes, waiting for Eden to begin playing. Essie stood to one side and began clapping as the music started. The Earl and Countess were obviously the audience and by the tears in the latter's eyes and the way she clutched her husband's hand, James realized this was a moment she was cherishing.
He had believed the relationship between the Sinclairs and their aunt and uncle was not a comfortable one, as none of them had seemed particularly happy about coming to London, but the emotion in this room suggested otherwise. What had happened to change things?
James watched as the little girls began a series of dance movements as Eden began to play the piano. Samantha was obviously not as accomplished as the twins, having probably only learned the steps today, yet she had a youthful grace that given time and instruction would blossom. He felt a fierce pull of emotion as she stumbled then righted herself, and identified it as a need to protect her. James tried to make sense of the emotions he felt when he looked at her.
She was his blood. His to care for and love, if he chose to do so. Could he risk loving her? As he sat there watching his sister he realized that there was no choice but to do so. She was a part of him now and his belief that he could keep his distance from this little girl was foolish. He'd thought himself a solitary person, but the thought of not having Samantha in his life made his previous existence now seem bleak.