My Fair Guardian

by Suzanne G. Rogers

  Urban quivered with outrage. “As my sister’s guardian, I expect you to make amends, forthwith! I insist you make Magenta an offer of marriage.”

  Will peered at him. “No, and I find your demand extraordinary. If I had truly assaulted your sister, why would you want us to wed?”

  “Magenta seems to have some regard for you.”

  “Since she and I are barely acquainted, I can’t think why. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business elsewhere.”

  Mr. Urban’s countenance flushed red. “I’ll blacken your name. You’ll not be received anywhere and neither will your wards!”

  Although Will was sorely tempted to take a swing at the man, he restrained himself. Instead, he said, “I wish you good luck, sir, and good morning.”

  Mr. Urban scowled as he strode past. “You’ll regret this, Winter!”

  After the man left the house, Will shook his head and returned to the breakfast room to await Bethany’s return. “Wealthy people are an odd lot.”

  He poured himself another cup of tea and stirred in a teaspoon of sugar. As he took a sip, he wondered if Mr. Urban really believed he could bully Will into making Magenta an offer of marriage based on the flimsiest of pretexts. The woman was far too sophisticated to have fallen in love with him on such short acquaintance, so why would she bother to involve him in her scheme?

  He rose when Bethany entered the dining room. “Is Jane all right?”

  “I’ve stanched the flow for now and she’s getting ready for her morning outing with Mr. Pace.” She averted her eyes. “Jane has always found change to be difficult.”

  Will frowned. “I’m planning to take her to a matinee this afternoon. Perhaps that will cheer her up.”

  “It will help. Jane just wants to spend more time with you.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.” He glanced at her plate. “Your breakfast has gone cold, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s all right. I’m not hungry.” She sat. “Did I hear shouting a little while ago?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Mr. Gray Urban paid me a visit.”

  She gave him a perplexed glance. “Magenta’s…father?”

  “Elder brother. He wished to rebuke me for taking liberties with Miss Urban. Furthermore, he insists I marry her.”

  Bethany gasped. “Absurd! How did you respond?”

  “I refused, naturally, and said there had been a misunderstanding. It took a great deal of effort not to laugh in his face.”

  “Your forbearance is admirable.”

  “There’s something else.” Will took a deep breath. “Mr. Urban promised to blacken my name. I’m not entirely sure what he meant by that.”

  She grimaced. “It means he’ll tell everyone of his acquaintance that you are a cad and ungentlemanly. If people believe him, you’ll be ostracized from good society.”

  “All because I’m not stupid enough to fall for his sister’s machinations? I don’t care about myself, but I wouldn’t like to cause you and Jane any difficulty.”

  “Perhaps Mr. Urban’s threat is an idle one.” Bethany rose. “Let’s concentrate on getting one of your illustrations published, shall we?”

  Will brushed aside his concerns for the time being. “I’ll get my portfolio ready.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Reckoning

  Jane jumped up and down as the butler brought in the morning Times. “Oh, do hurry, Richmond! I can’t wait to see Mr. Winter’s illustration in the paper!”

  She reached for the newspaper, but Bethany took it instead. “Let me, dearest. I know where the society column appears.”

  As she turned the pages, Will stood off a few paces with a tense expression on his face. Jane looked over Bethany’s shoulder and even Richmond found a reason to linger in the breakfast room. When Bethany and Jane spotted the illustration at the same time, they squealed.

  Will strode over. “Where is it?” His voice sounded almost hoarse.

  Bethany pointed—the illustration depicting her sitting behind the piano. “Artwork by Willoughby Winter.” She beamed. “You are a published artist now—and in the best newspaper in the world.”

  He let out a soft gasp. “I’m not sure I truly believed they were really going to print it.”

  Richmond murmured, “Congratulations, sir. Mr. Leopold would have been exceedingly proud.”

  Will beamed. “Thank you, old boy.”

  Jane threw her arms around Will’s waist. “I’m proud of you, too. Bethany is famous now as well.”

  Bethany frowned. “I wish the newspaper had chosen an illustration without me, but it can’t be helped. At least it included Lady Jensen, who is socially influential. That should accrue to Mr. Winter’s benefit.”

  They sat down to breakfast, talking over one another and exchanging jokes. When Richmond brought in the morning post, Bethany put down her fork and slit open the letters. With each successive note, her smile grew less bright until finally Will gave her a quizzical glance.

  “What is it?” He laughed. “Don’t tell me my invitations have been canceled?”

  She swallowed. “I’m afraid so.” The room fell silent. “We’re not to attend Lady Hearst’s ball tonight and there are four other cancellations besides.”

  Jane’s jaw dropped. “Is that because of the illustration?”

  Bethany sighed. “No, dearest. Magenta’s brother mistakenly believes that Mr. Winter insulted her at the soiree and he’s evidently managed to convince some of our friends of it.”

  “If our friends take Magenta’s word over Mr. Winter’s, they’re stupid.” Jane frowned. “I don’t think they are very good friends, either.”

  “Probably not.” Will averted his gaze. “Nevertheless, I can’t sell illustrations to the newspaper if I’m not invited to any social events.”

  “Not everybody has sent a cancellation,” Bethany said.

  “Not yet.” Will’s eyes flickered toward Jane. “Never mind. If your sister and I are not to go to the ball, she can read us another chapter of her novel.”

  Jane perked up. “That’s right!”

  “What an excellent idea.” Bethany’s smile returned. “We’ll have a lovely time tonight, just the three of us. And whatever cancellations we receive, we’ll fill the time with other outings.”

  They returned to their breakfast, but the conversation was far more sober than before. Just before Jane was to head off to meet with Mr. Pace, Richmond brought in the silver salver.

  “A note has just arrived by messenger, Miss Christensen.” He left the salver by her plate and disappeared into the hallway.

  “Not another one.” Bethany took the envelope with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. As it turned out, however, the letter was from a stranger. “It’s from Lady Calloway.”

  Jane shook her head. “Who is that?”

  “I don’t know.” Puzzled, Bethany opened the message and scanned the contents. “Oh, my!”

  “I hope it’s cheerful news,” Will said.

  “Lady Calloway writes, ‘Dear Miss Christensen, I am to host a fancy dress ball next Friday and I would like to invite you and Mr. Winter to attend. I was quite charmed by his excellent illustration in today’s newspaper and was hoping he might do the same thing for me as he did for my dear friend, Lady Jensen.’” Bethany’s smile broadened as she glanced up from the paper. “It’s as I hoped, Will. Despite Mr. Urban’s efforts to blacken your name, there’s demand for your work.”

  Jane grinned. “Magenta will be vexed her tricks didn’t work.” She slid from her chair. “If you'll excuse me, I’m off to find Mr. Pace for our outing. He’s escorting me to the British Museum this morning.”

  Will waited to speak until he and Bethany were alone. “If there is demand for my work, it’s because of your efforts.”

  “I’m just trying to make amends. Furthermore, there’s more than one way to skin a cat, as they say.” She giggled. “I sent messengers to Mr. Leopold’s publisher friends, asking if they will meet with you. Tomorrow, you ha
ve a full schedule of meetings.”

  “You little minx!” Will reached across the table for Bethany’s hand and gave it a squeeze, sending a surge of warmth throughout her body. “And what will you be doing until then?”

  “Today, I intend to work on the final few scenes of my novel. While you are away tomorrow, I’ll locate costumes for the both of us in my parents’ trunks in the attic. I believe I know exactly where Mama’s Queen Titania costume is located.”

  Will frowned. “If you think I’m going to wear a costume based on the character of Bottom, you are mistaken.”

  Bethany laughed. “Papa wouldn’t have worn a donkey’s head, either. No, there is an Oberon costume and it’s rather fabulous as I recall.”

  “I hope it will permit me to waltz with you. We might not have another opportunity.”

  “Be assured, it is not too fabulous for that.”

  ∞∞∞

  Angela squeezed her eyes shut as she willed herself to stay calm. When another gunshot rang out, however, she clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. A lightning storm had begun in the night sky, intermittently revealing her hiding place to anyone who happened to be glancing in her direction. Even so, she was not worried for herself—but for the man she’d come to love so dearly. A bullet had already injured Mr. Wylde, but she prayed his wound was not a mortal one. Surely life would not be so cruel as to snatch him away now that they had found each other at last?

  “Miss Ware? Come out, Miss Ware…little mouse. Come out to get your punishment like a good girl.”

  She pressed herself even harder into the alcove, feeling jagged rocky edges digging into her skin. The male, reedy voice was familiar—yet she could not quite place it. The creak of a lantern handle grew louder, as if the man were swinging it to and fro. Another lightning strike was followed by a peal of thunder and she fought the desire to bolt.

  “I spy footsteps in the sand, Miss Ware. I wonder if they will lead me to you?”

  When the next bolt of lightning split the sky, she gasped with horror. A man stood inches away, leering at her. The lantern in his hand had grown dark, but he raised it overhead as a weapon.

  “You’ve caused me all manner of trouble, Miss Ware. Prepare to die.”

  She cringed and braced for impact, yet the next sound she heard in the darkness was a soft gasp. Something fell at her feet, tugging at her skirt, and she could repress her scream no longer.

  “Did he hurt you, Angela?” Mr. Wylde’s voice reached her ears, but she was pinned down and could not move.

  “No, I’m safe, Mr. Wylde. Are you injured?”

  No response was forthcoming and she bent down to free herself from the obstacle at her feet. When another bolt of lightning lit the sky, she realized the man with the lamp was lying on his side with a knife protruding from his back. When she recognized his features, she was stunned.

  “It’s the vicar!”

  A few feet away, Mr. Wylde had crumpled to the sand, unmoving. Angela reached under the vicar’ s body, gave him a mighty shove, and darted past his corpse to aid the man she loved so dearly.

  “Mr. Wylde…Garrison! Please don’t die.”

  She fell to her knees and ran her hands over his frame, trying to find his wounds. A hole in his left sleeve alerted her to a bullet wound to his arm, but it was his sodden shirt that alarmed her the most. She ripped open the garment and ran trembling fingertips over his chest and abdomen, but could find no further injury. Something grabbed her wrist.

  “I know you cannot wait to undress me, Miss Ware, but there’s a time and a place for everything.”

  Laughing, she embraced Garrison. “Your shirt was wet and I thought it was with blood.”

  “I fell in the surf and hit my head on a rock.” His voice was weak. “I’m afraid I was dazed for a moment or two and couldn’t come to your aid until it was almost too late.”

  She kissed his forehead. “Just rest, my love.”

  As he drifted out of consciousness again, she ripped a ruffle off her petticoat and used it to stanch the wound on his arm. After she fashioned a rude bandage, she lay down next to him, to lend his body her warmth. In a half-hour or so, she would be able to climb up the bluff and find help. Mr. Wylde had been her guardian angel and now it was time for her to return the favor.

  Bethany sat back, shaking her head. “So, it was the vicar bedeviling poor Angela throughout the entire story? I would never have guessed.” She laughed.

  ∞∞∞

  Will sat in a waiting room chair, trying to stretch out the tension in his neck as surreptitiously as possible. He needn’t have bothered to hide his nervousness, apparently, because Mr. Gerard’s clerk was too busy answering correspondence to spare him a glance. At length, the door to the inner office opened and the publisher appeared long enough to blurt out, “I’ll see Mr. Winter now,” before disappearing again into his office.

  The clerk and Will stood at the same time.

  “Mr. Gerard will see you now, Mr. Winter.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Will nodded, remembered to breath, and then strode into the inner office. He gave the publisher a beaming smile as he extended his hand.

  “Hello, sir. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  They shook hands, even as the publisher peered at him. “I confess you bear a striking resemblance to your cousin.”

  “So I’ve been told. I’m glad you agreed to meet with me.”

  “Think nothing of it.” Gerard gestured toward a chair and Will sat. “I’ve had the opportunity to glance over the illustrations you gave my clerk, Mr. Winter, and they’re quite impressive.” He glanced at the portfolio lying open on his desk. “I know Frederick had a bit of artistic talent as well, but I believe you outdo him.”

  “My cousin had a different focus to his artwork, I think. He enjoyed studies of still life and animals, whereas I believe my interests lies mostly in book illustration.”

  Will’s artistic interest, of course, had shifted somewhat based on the office he was visiting at the time. Earlier that day, his interest had been in magazine illustration. Thereafter, his fondest desire was to illustrate chapbooks. He would have agreed to illustrate advertising posters, to get his foot in the door as an artist.

  Gerard nodded. “The thing is, I’m not looking to take on an other illustrator at this time. Perhaps you could try me again in six months. Sometimes my regular artists move on.”

  “I see.” Will covered his disappointment with a smile. “I’m grateful for your consideration, sir.”

  The publisher leafed through his portfolio. “What is this story you are illustrating, by the way?”

  “It’s a Gothic romance novel entitled Wylde Eyes, written by my ward, Miss Bethany Christensen.”

  The man’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Is that so? I’ve read a sample of her work before and found it rather flat.”

  “I’ve not read anything else Miss Christensen has written, but Wylde Eyes is full of passion and danger. I had no trouble at all coming up with those illustrations.”

  “You don’t say?” He frowned. “I can’t make any promises, of course, but I might like to read a few chapters. I find the premise represented in these drawings rather intriguing.”

  Will’s disappointment lifted. “I’ll let Miss Christensen know.”

  Gerard returned his portfolio to Will and escorted him to the outer office. “Best of luck, Mr. Winter. I do wish I had something more immediate for you.”

  His regret seemed sincere and Will gave him a smile. “Thank you again for seeing me.”

  Will left the publisher’s building with a slightly bowed head and a flagging spirit. The day had been unproductive, but if he were to search for a bright spot, at least he’d had a few expressions of interest in Wylde Eyes. Deep in thought, he eschewed a cab in favor of the long walk back to Summerland.

  ∞∞∞

  Bethany unlatched the lid of the trunk and lifted it open. A profusion of white tulle, rendered glossy by the
addition of decorative trims, greeted her. As she lifted the costume from the trunk, wads of tissue paper fell to the floor of her bedroom.

  Minerva smiled. “It looks like you’ve found the Titania costume.”

  “Yes, but it’s crushed.” Bethany gave her maid a worried glance. “Can it be saved?”

  “No doubt a bit of steam will set it to rights.”

  Bethany gave the gown a shake to let the creases unfold, and handed it off to Minerva. She dove back into the trunk to find the matching slippers and wired fairy wings, which attached to the back of the costume by dainty satin ribbons. The white gossamer wings were sadly bent.

  “Oh, bother!”

  “It’s only the wire,” Minerva said. “I can straighten them to their original shape.

  Bethany frowned as she held up the wings. “There’s a nasty rip in the tulle.”

  “I can replace the fabric, Miss Christensen. Set your mind at ease”

  As her maid laid the costume out on the bed, Bethany turned her attention to the Oberon costume. She lifted out a handsome cape with a standup collar trimmed with gorgeous mixed plumes. Several of the feathers were bent, unfortunately.

  “Minerva, can you replace these plumes with something similar?”

  Her maid peered at the collar and nodded. “Yes, indeed.”

  “You have my everlasting gratitude.”

  Underneath the cape was a brocade doublet in deep green, with gold embroidery. The garment was open to the waist, although held together with green laces, and was meant to be worn with the loose linen blouse she found folded underneath. A pair of thick hose, suede boots, and a feathered crown completed the outfit.

  Bethany brought the doublet over to the mirror and held the garment up, trying to envision Will’s appearance in it. “I’m glad this has an ample peplum or I don’t believe I could induce Mr. Winter to wear it.”

  Minerva giggled. “Mr. Winter will make a very handsome Oberon.”

  A knock came at the door and the maid hastened to answer it.

  Richmond was waiting in the corridor. “Mr. Nicholas Masters has come to call.”

  “Oh, excellent.” Bethany’s eyes narrowed. “Show him into the drawing room.”