My Fair Guardian

by Suzanne G. Rogers

  Her fingers tightened in his. “Ever the vigilant guardian, you are. And here I thought you were only searching for an art studio.”

  “Which I found, by the way, as well as a commission. It’s only a theatrical poster, but Mr. Edwardes is a rather influential fellow and very well connected. The commission will lead to more work.”

  “No doubt it will.” Bethany gazed at him. “I’m very proud of you, Will.”

  His expression softened and became almost vulnerable. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear you say that.” He brought her hand to his lips. “Accept my proposal, Bethany.”

  The heady sensations his kiss evoked traveled up her arm and brought a delicious shiver to her body. In spite of his tempting offer, she shook her head.

  “Not yet. ‘She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is woman, and therefore to be won.’ Did you not say that recently?”

  “Indeed, I did, but I was quoting Shakespeare. The poor old chap has been gone quite a long time, and we ought not put too much stock in his words.”

  Bethany laughed as she withdrew her hand from his. “Are you not enjoying the chase?”

  Will gave her a meaningful glance as he got to his feet. “Indeed, but the footrace is thirsty work. Would that I could quench my thirst with a kiss from your lips.”

  “A chalice for my knight.” She stood and deposited a kiss on his cheek.

  “Alas, that was but a thimble.” As his hand slid around her waist, his lips were mere inches from hers. “Fair maiden, I am far too parched for such meager refreshment.”

  “Quite so.” Bethany bestowed a chaste kiss on his mouth. “I’ll ring for tea.”

  Before she could move, he pulled her close and claimed his kiss—teasingly light at first, but growing ever more demanding. Bethany answered his passion with her own, exploring his lips with the tip of her tongue and drawing him in until he was groaning.

  Finally, he drew back, his complexion decidedly flushed. “Woman, you are mine. You might as well admit it.”

  She smiled. “I’ll admit it…when the time is right.”

  Will moved in for another kiss, but less heated than before. “As your guardian, I have no choice but to comply.” He stepped away, shaking his head. “Dash it all. I’ll be a desiccated husk before I lead you to the altar.”

  ∞∞∞

  Friday

  Jane gave Will a pleading look as she brought her breakfast plate to the table. “When will Bethany and I get to see your studio?”

  “When I have something in it.” Will chuckled. “I’m bringing my drafting table and supplies over this morning before I go to the theater. If I have time afterward, I must visit a shop to purchase other things, including a few bits of furniture. As it is now, I have nowhere to sit but the floor.”

  Bethany sipped her tea. “Don’t be gone too late. We have the fancy dress ball to attend tonight.”

  “How could I forget?” Will winked. “I’ve never attended any such thing before. It should be entertaining.”

  Jane frowned. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m getting rather homesick for Lansings Lodge. I miss Liza and my room and even the garden.”

  Bethany gave her a sympathetic glance. “It’s a pity you and Liza can’t even correspond right now. It would have made the separation easier.”

  Richmond crossed into the room with the morning post and left straightaway. Bethany glanced through the letters, pausing to stare at one in particular.

  Will grimaced. “Please don’t tell me that’s from Lady Calloway, to say we aren’t to attend tonight?”

  “It’s from the Winters, actually.” When Bethany met his gaze, he could see worry in her eyes. “I usually toss their letters in a drawer without reading them, but this one is addressed to you—at this address.”

  Puzzled, he took the envelope and examined it. Several concerns bubbled to his lips, but he did not wish to voice any of them in Jane’s hearing. He forced a smile to his lips and slid the letter into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I’ll read this later.”

  Bethany gave him a tiny nod of gratitude as her gaze flickered toward Jane. Her sharp-eyed sister, however, wasn’t fooled.

  “Why don’t you read your letter now, Mr. Winter?”

  “In point of fact, I have a far more pressing concern, Miss Jane. I would like very much to marry your sister, but I must have your permission before I can properly court her.”

  Jane’s face lit up. “Of course you have my permission.” Her expression changed. "But marriage means babies and I’m too young to be an aunt. In fact, by the time I make my debut, I might be an aunt several times over.”

  Bethany’s eyes danced. “Aunts come in all ages, Jane.”

  “I suppose so.” Jane gave Will a serious glance. “Are you sure you want to marry my sister? I love Bethany, but she can be a trifle bossy.”

  Will laughed harder than he should have. “I understand a gentleman is always reluctant to speak ill of a lady. That being said, I think your sister is perfection in all things.”

  Bethany gave him a sidelong glance. “By that, I hope you don’t mean I’m perfectly bossy.”

  He shook his head. “I mean that I could not find a flaw in you, Miss Christensen, even if I were to search a thousand years. Er…” He paused, trying to remember the poetry Mr. Pace had found for him. “‘You’re something between a dream and a miracle.’”

  Bethany peered at him. “You know Elizabeth Barrett Browning?”

  Will glanced at her with mock seriousness. “We never met, no. But I understand she had a way with words.”

  Jane snickered into her eggs.

  Will folded his napkin by his plate. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’m going to fold up my drafting table and get my art supplies ready to go.”

  He crossed from the breakfast room in an unhurried and carefree manner, but as soon as he entered the library, he closed the door and opened the envelope.

  Lad,

  We thought you was dead, but Miss Urban wrote us a letter asking about you. We were surprised to hear you’d become guardian to the Christensen girls. I don’t know why society ladies would want to be seen with the likes of you, but maybe they weren’t raised right, being orphans and all.

  Ever since Frederick Leopold died, the missus and I have been asking Miss Christensen for what’s owed us, but we’ve given up being nice. If you don’t pay us to be quiet, we’ll write Miss Urban and tell her exactly who Willoughby Winter is—the natural child of a scoundrel who rid himself of a useless bit of trash.

  Maybe this news comes as a shock to you, but it will surely shock the London toffs, so you’d best answer me by telegram. I mean what I say.

  ~ Edgar Winter

  Will’s hands were shaking so badly by the time he reached the end of the missive that he could barely make out the words. The hatred he felt for the man he used to think was his father filled him up inside and he tasted bile in his throat.

  “Looks like you found me, old man.” He crumpled the letter slowly. “And you can rot in Hades before I give you anything except for the back of my hand.”

  Will paced the length of the library as blood rushed in his ears. Edgar Winter was perfectly capable of doing what he said and no appeal to his sense of decency would prevail. Therefore, Will must concentrate on neutralizing the threat as far as Magenta Urban was concerned.

  Bethany entered the room after a tap on the door. She took one glance at his expression and went pale. “What was in the letter?”

  He gave it to her without a word. After she smoothed out the creases, her eyes scanned the page and she gasped. “How did he know where to find you?”

  “I told Miss Urban I was from Gisburn and she apparently wrote him a letter, asking for information about me.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, that’s it, then. When we don’t pay, Edgar will tell Magenta everything she needs to know to ruin us.”

  “Not us. Me.”

  “Su
rely you don’t intend to face this alone?”

  He grasped her gently by the shoulders. “I will do whatever I must to protect you and Jane—even if that means we must part company.”

  “I cannot lose you, Will.” Bethany put her arms around him. “Please don’t even consider such a thing."

  “It might not come to that. I intend to inform the Urbans if they dare interfere further, I will make sure everyone knows about their mother and her occupation.” Will searched Bethany’s face. “I hope you don’t think less of me for not acting like a gentleman in this regard.”

  “In this instance, I’d far sooner have a fighter than a gentleman.” Her smile was laced with steel. “I’ll fetch Magenta’s address.”

  ∞∞∞

  Will arrived at the Gaiety Theatre stage entrance late that morning with a large sketchbook in tow and a satchel containing charcoal and colored pencils. He was greeted by the stage manager more cheerfully this time, and thereafter made his way directly to Edwardes’ office.

  He tapped on the open door. “Good morning, Guv’nor. Has Miss St. John arrived?”

  Edwardes glanced up. “Hullo, Will. She’s in the dressing room, changing into one of her costumes. Why don’t you wait on the stage and I’ll send her out?”

  Will nodded. “All right.”

  As the theater manager went to fetch the actress, Will returned to the stage, opened his sketchbook, and began preparing his pencils. Very shortly thereafter, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties appeared. She was clad in a spectacular crimson and black gown featuring a bodice evocative of a Spanish toreador.

  Will sketched a deep bow. “Miss St. John, I’m Willoughby Winter. I’m to take your likeness for the theatrical poster.”

  “So I’ve been told.” She struck a pose. “You may proceed.”

  Will’s pencil flew across the paper like lightning as he captured the details of her face, hair, and costume. She managed to stand still throughout, but her eyes followed his every move.

  “You should call me Jack, by the way.” She fluttered her lashes. “All my friends do.”

  He grinned. “I would be honored.”

  “I was recently touring in America with Faust up to Date, and it was quite popular. I hope Carmen up to Data is as warmly received in London.” Her voice had a lovely throaty quality.

  “With your talent, I don’t see how it could fail.”

  One side of her mouth quirked up. “You might be surprised. You can never really tell what the mood is in the theater. Audiences can be rather fickle.”

  “‘O fortune, fortune! All men call thee fickle,’” he murmured, without thinking.

  “That’s from Romeo and Juliet.” The actress sighed. “I never had the chance to play Juliet, but I should have liked to. ‘If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him that is renowned for faith? Be fickle, fortune, for then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, but send him back.’”

  Will nodded in appreciation. “You would make a splendid Juliet.”

  “At my age?” She giggled. “Perhaps with a great deal of makeup and the right costume, anything is possible.”

  Will moved a bit closer to sketch the details of her face a little more accurately. As he worked, he wondered if she could help him. “In your travels, did you ever meet an actress by the name of Indigo Aldersgate?”

  The woman’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh, yes. We sailed from New York City on the same ship, actually. Miss Aldersgate is working in Liverpool at the moment, starring in a comedy entitled The Viscount’s Vanity.”

  Will’s lips parted. “I’m quite surprised to hear you say that. Her children will be very happy to hear she’s back in the country.”

  “Children?” Miss St. John frowned. “She and I sat at the same table on board and she never mentioned having any children.”

  “Perhaps that is because they are fully grown.”

  “Out of sight, out of mind, as the saying goes, though I think I would remember if I had given birth. My son is four years old and I haven’t forgotten him yet.”

  Will chuckled and finished his sketch with a flourish. “You may relax now. I shall take this back to my studio and work it up into a poster. Thank you.”

  She came over to examine his work. “Very nice! I appear to be about twenty-five.”

  “Surely you’re no older?” Will winked.

  “Oh, you charming rascal!”

  She kissed him on the cheek just as Charlie ran onto the stage with a paper in his hand.

  “Will, thank heavens you’re still here. I thought I might miss you altogether.” When Charlie realized he was in the company of a famous actress, his eyes widened and his posture grew stiff. “Oh, hello, Miss St. John. Sorry to interrupt.”

  The woman giggled and sailed off toward the dressing room.

  Charlie let out his breath and shook his head. “Every time I see you these days, it seems as if you’re getting kissed by pretty ladies.”

  “That’s only a rumor.” Will flipped his sketchbook closed and glanced at the paper in his friend’s hand. “What do you have for me?”

  “Only this!” Charlie beamed as he held up a handbill for The Viscount’s Vanity. “The production is playing in Liverpool right now!”

  “This is perfect.” Will examined the handbill, which featured a handsome older woman who looked a great deal like Magenta. “You really are a very clever sleuth, did you know?”

  Charlie gave him a suspicious glance. “Why don’t you look surprised?”

  “Miss St. John just finished telling me about The Viscount’s Vanity, but don’t be disappointed. I can’t tell you how helpful this is to me.” Will tucked the handbill in his valise.

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I need it to neutralize a threat.”

  Charlie’s face lit up. “I like the sound of that. Anything I can do?”

  Will smiled. “Actually, yes. If you’re at loose ends, I’ll hire you to help me for the afternoon. I need someone to help me carry some art supplies up to my loft and to acquire a few bits of furniture.”

  “I’m your man.”

  As they made their way to the stage door exit, Will gave his friend a glance. “Are you working at Lady Calloway’s fancy dress ball tonight?”

  “As it so happens, I am.” He rolled his eyes. “The baroness is having the servers dress up as pageboys, if you can believe it.”

  “I’m to go as King Oberon.”

  Charlie chortled. “The fairy?”

  Will lifted his chin. “And a fine figure of a fairy I make.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Oberon and Titania

  Will used watercolors to paint a replica of the handbill image on a two by three foot canvas, although he highlighted Indigo Aldersgate’s name in crimson. After he carried the easel and canvas next to the window to dry, he brought his brushes into the bathroom to rinse out the paint. As he emerged, Charlie arrived with a tall, freestanding wooden hat rack in one hand and a stool in the other.

  “Let me help you.” Will took the rack from him and set it next to the door. “This is perfect.”

  “The shop had a cast iron one but it was too heavy to carry up all those stairs.” Charlie put the stool down in the center of the room and gave the seat a spin. “And this is adjustable.”

  “I couldn’t have chosen better myself.”

  As Charlie crossed over to examine the handbill replica, Will retrieved his hat and coat from the floor, dusted them off, and hung them on the hat rack.

  “Feels like home.”

  “If you like your home without much in the way of furniture.” Charlie stuck his thumb at the painted canvas. “Fast work. What’s it for?”

  Will rolled down his sleeves. “To put some people on notice that I know their secrets and I’m not afraid to make those secrets public, if need be.”

  His friend grinned. “A little gutter politics, hmm? I like it.”

  Will shrugged. “I don’t relish confrontation, necessar
ily, but I’m more than willing to get into the gutter when necessary.”

  “Excellent. That’s why I’m proud to call you my friend.”

  They exchanged a handshake.

  Charlie pushed his bowler back on his head. “Well, I’d best be going. I’m off to Lady Calloway’s residence to climb into my powder blue satin costume.”

  “Let me pay you for your help.”

  Will gave him a generous sum. To his surprise, a shadow passed across his friend’s usual good-humored expression.

  “Thanks for this, mate.” Charlie paused to swallow. “My mum’s ill and this money will help me furnish her with a few luxuries.” He gave Will a bleak smile. “It’s sad she had to wait until the end of her life to afford someone to cook her meals and clean her home.”

  “You’re a good son.”

  “Aye, that I am.” The man’s good humor returned and he sketched a playful bow. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Willoughby Winter, and I’ll see you later.” Charlie whistled as he left.

  While Will waited for the canvas to fully dry, he turned his attention to tidying up the art supplies he and Charlie had brought in earlier. His friend’s announcement about his mother’s ill health had been sobering. Will was glad to have been in a position to help, even if it was a small way. A soft smile of gratitude curved his lips as he considered his own good fortune. If he hadn’t discovered Frederick’s codicil, he would have had absolutely nothing to offer Bethany except the sweat of his brow. Will would always have Lansings Lodge to call home from now on—a place where he and Bethany could live and raise a family. He might not have been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth, but he would be able to provide one for his children.

  His glance slid toward the canvas. “Now, it’s time to secure that future.”

  Like a knight climbing into a suit of armor, Will slid into his jacket and donned his hat. The time had arrived to do battle.

  ∞∞∞

  Will took a hansom to the address Bethany had furnished him—a townhouse on Baker Street in a very tidy, genteel, and exclusive residential neighborhood. As he stepped out of the cab and onto the pavement, he glanced around at the pristine dwellings and chuckled.