Fortune's Flower

by Mary Ellen Boyd

  His greatcoat had done its job and he finally felt warm. Or warm enough. Damon would hardly call this house heated. He glanced around for a place to hang the heavy coat, since the maid had not offered to take it. Although clean, the house had a musty odor, as if no one had done any real scrubbing, no polishing to scent the air. Of course, in light of that awful black, they had had other things on their minds.

  A dark door was shut tight to his right, and a matching door closed equally tight on his left. There was no place to sit, no bench even for removing boots. He had done too much sitting anyway in the last week, but his leg did not want to take his weight.

  It was a small suffering in view of what had happened in this house. Damon straightened his shoulders and continued to stand.

  It probably was not as long as it seemed before he heard a light step walk toward the stairs. He looked up.

  Verbena stood there, looking paler than ever in the black dress, her fair hair shocking against all that darkness. Her green eyes seemed too big for her delicate face, and shadows stained the skin underneath. She walked down as if each step pained her, slow and careful, her gaze fixed on him. Halfway down, she wobbled. Damon snapped out of his own stillness, and strode across the foyer to the bottom of the steps, ready to catch her.

  “How did you find out where we were?” She shook her head, her hands clenched and unclenched, quick movements, as if they did not know what to do with themselves. And then her eyes filled with tears, she started to tremble, and to his utter shock, hurtled down those last steps, threw herself against him and burst into tears. “Where have you been all this time? Where were you when we needed you?”

  After the first moment of disbelief, his arms wrapped around her to hold her close, frightened by the shudders that shook her slim body.

  She was so slight, he was afraid he would break her. He forced himself to gently ease her back. He could not make himself let go of her arms, just moved her out far enough to see her face, her sad, pale, tear-stained face.

  In a quiet voice, he asked, “Who was it?”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Edeline.” Her voice broke. “Aunt Mabel said things were not going well at the end.” She hiccupped. “That is why she sent for me.” A stream of tears slid down her face again, her eyes were stained red from crying. “Little good I was.”

  What did he say to that? I am certain your sister was glad to have you in her final minutes? When Edeline knew she was leaving her child behind? Or had the baby died, too? “Oh, Verbena. I am so sorry, my dear. So terribly sorry. And the child?”

  A cold change came over her face. Verbena wrenched away, her tears dried up, just the silver tracks remaining. She glared at him. “That is all you care about, truly? The baby?”

  The baby. He did not know if that was an answer. “No, it is not all I care about.” He looked back at the nearest closed door, took her hand, so small and cold and trembling, and pulled her behind him. Ask her about Andrew’s child. “We are not discussing this where anyone can overhear.”

  The room he entered proved to be a small study, with a solid desk, several old chairs whose upholstery had gone shiny with use, and inadequate bookshelves that came barely to his chest, jumbled with books that were at least part of that hint of mildew on the air. He pulled the door nearly shut behind them, just enough for privacy but not so much as to cause talk. He did not care about the talk, except for her sake. It would only serve his purpose.

  In the dim room, the heavy blackness of Verbena’s gown drained color from her white skin, except for high spots of anger across her cheekbones. “I have heard a lot more these past weeks about what my sister went through with your family, and it was not pretty. Throwing her out in front of a whole house of London society was the least of it. As if there was a soul in the house that did not know your family was washing their hands of her!”

  He had seen this often, grief turned into anger that hit out at anyone near. If she needed to lance it on his head, it was small atonement. “There is no way to apologize for how she was treated. She must have known, though, that the child would have received Andrew’s estate.” Whatever his father would not give to Andrew, he would certainly save for his child. And, of course, the boy would get everything in the end. Yet, knowing that, Edeline had fled to this cold house with musty books? “Why did she not tell us she was with child? If she had, she would hardly have been pushed out of my father house.”

  Verbena backed up, staring at him with her big green eyes. She took a breath, and he saw her visibly retract, her words unsaid.

  He asked, his words quiet, “How is the baby?”

  Her hands came down and clenched in small fists in her gown. “You can’t have him! I won’t let you! She made me promise to raise him. I gave her my word, and I will keep it! You Therns think money can get you everything – well, not this time. I am his mother now, she left him to me! She even wrote it down in her will!”

  Andrew’s child was a boy, and, yes, alive. Damon’s chest swelled with relief, but he immediately tamped it down. There was no room for happiness here, not in this house, not before Verbena and her grief.

  He had just been handed the very tool he needed, a way for them both to get exactly what they wanted. If he went through with this, he would be dragging Verbena into the very battle her sister fought. Only this time, she would have someone to take her side. And, Damon thought, unlike Edeline, Verbena would be able to hold her own.

  Any halfway decent solicitor could overturn Edeline’s paltry will, but he let that slide. “Verbena, please calm yourself,” he said, keeping his voice soothing. “I only asked after the child. My nephew. I appreciate your devotion to your sister. I always admired your loyalty to your family, and now to this little one. I know you would like nothing better than to see the last of all of us Therns, but I am part of the father’s family, and no one will question whether we can care for our own.”

  She straightened her spine, and looked for all the world like a little black wren taking on a hawk. “Are you saying you will take him away from us?” Her eyes were angry pools of green. The vulnerable red rims around them rather spoiled the image of indomitable strength she wanted to project. “I won’t let you do that. I have just as much right to the child as you do, more even because of my sacred oath, and Edeline’s written wishes.”

  He hated the fear that leapt into her eyes. Keeping his voice low and gentle, he went on, “I know you love him already. I would never deny you that. But despite what you think, despite what you have been told, and despite the admittedly unsavory behavior of my family, we are not monsters. There is another side to the story besides Edeline’s. I grew up in that house you despise so much. My mother loved Andrew, she will love his child.”

  He had this chance, like a gift from heaven, and he was not going to waste it. He would take the child, he had no choice. It could not be left in that house with a drunken, violent grandfather and not enough food unless provided by others. He wanted Andrew’s son safe and healthy. But he wanted the baby’s new mother as well.

  It was time to make her see logic. “Before you rush off with the baby in a fit of righteous zeal, you must plan. How do you propose to care for it? How will you take care of your other brothers and sisters with a tiny baby?” There had been infants in his company in Europe, both from wives and hangers-on, so he knew a few things about babies. “They don’t sleep. Will you trust yourself to cook over an open fire with no sleep all night? The thought of you standing next to a fire when you are that tired frightens me. Will the baby live with you, or will you have to leave it with a wet nurse? Can you even afford a wet nurse? How can you be certain whoever you find is taking good care if it when you are not there to oversee what is happening?”

  She bit her lip, then retorted, “My aunt has given us money. We can pay well enough to ensure he gets care.”

  Damon resisted the urge to look at the worn furnishings around them. “I see. ‘He gets care.’” He repeated her words to her. “But what ki
nd of care? If you hire a wet nurse, where will she live? Your house is not big enough for anyone else to live with you. I am not even certain you have room for one tiny baby. He will have to stay with the wet nurse, at least for the first few months. How often will you see him? Is that the kind of care Edeline would have wanted? To leave your nephew – her son – with a stranger? And how long do you want him nursed before he is weaned and you can take him home?”

  “As long as is best for him! You would have the same problem, hiring a wet nurse.”

  The fear was building in her eyes, but she held her ground. He felt a thrill of pride in her. How valiant she was! “Certainly I would, but it will hardly be a problem for me. There are widows aplenty with babies glad to live in their own apartment in my house, where I can watch over his care. I have plenty of room and more than enough money, and I will not think of the cost as a burden. Assuming you had a place for her, where can you find a woman you can pay enough to live in your house?”

  She was wavering, he could see it in the sheen of tears in her eyes, and the slump in her shoulders. It was one thing for her to grab the baby and whisk him away in a burst of fury, it was quite another to work out all the myriad details.

  He wished he could reach out and catch her hands, hold her in the security of his own. “Verbena, I am not trying to hurt you, but you must see how difficult this task is. How long do you think your aunt can afford to support you? Edeline was not her daughter, he is not a grandchild, but rather a distant relative. What if she decides the cost is a drain?”

  “She won’t.” The anguish in her eyes stopped him from adding more arguments to his case.

  It was time. He stepped closer, and made his voice soft and alluring. So much depended on the right words, the tone of his voice. “There is another solution, one that would protect both our familial rights, and not threaten your sister’s will.”

  Ah, there it was, that flare of hope, quickly squelched but unmistakable. “And what might this miraculous solution be?”

  He caught her hands at last, small, strong things, so capable of handling whatever life had thrown at her. They were nearly as cold as his had been in the carriage when he saw that black bow hanging on the door. He lifted them to his mouth one at a time, and pressed his lips to them. “Marry me.”

  Her big green eyes went so wide they threatened to fall out. Her mouth dropped open and a little squeak came out. “Marry you?”

  “Yes. Marry me.” He took a chance and reached out to smooth a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “That will guarantee your rights. I can afford to hire a wet nurse, and bring her to my house – our house, under your watchful eye. No one would dare take a child away from my wife.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Verbena‘s ears buzzed, and she feared for a brief moment she was going to faint. He had said the words twice and they still did not make sense. Marry him?

  Marry Damon? Become his wife? Walk right into the Thern family, like a lamb to the slaughter?

  Keep Roderick?

  Kind as Damon had been to the children – and herself – she could not get past the stories Edeline had told these past days. Verbena forced herself to breathe around heavy pain of the empty space where her sister had been.

  She pulled her hands free. Small warm spots remained where his lips had been. “I won’t marry into your family. I can’t.” Her chest hurt. “I gave my word to Edeline, I would keep him safe from you – your family.” She had not meant to lump him in with his family, but neither could she separate him. “I know what they did. They never accepted my sister. She was never good enough. Which means I will never be good enough. Julius and Matthew and the girls will never be good enough.” Verbena forced herself to take a quick breath. “I appreciate the offer, but I will follow her instructions. Her whole purpose was to keep her child safe.”

  “Safe?” He closed in on her, moving forward slowly like a prowling cat. Despite herself, she kept retreating until her back was against the nearest shelf. He braced his hands on either side of her head. His swarthy face was so close she could see the fine lines pain had etched around his dark eyes. A swath of black hair fell across his forehead and she had to clench her hands in her skirt to keep from reaching up to push it back.

  Verbena stood straight, even though she knew how easily this latest burden could be the one to break her. How badly she wanted to trust him. She was tired, so tired, and afraid of the very things he had just put into words, worries she had had for months but had shoved away.

  “Safe?” He repeated the word. “Verbena! Sometimes I don’t understand you. Edeline was living with a relative who it seems barely knows her, in a house your aunt does not even keep warm enough for a baby. And now you are going to take this baby back to your home? I wish there was a way to say this without giving offense, but you were living one step away from the poorhouse, with a drunk for a father. What will your father do when the baby cries at night? Do you think I did not see the girls trying to stay out of his way? And you would bring my nephew to that?”

  Verbena flinched. He was right. Father would not want another mouth to feed, however tiny. And with such connections available?

  “You don’t trust my family.” He straightened, and she took a breath. Her teeth began to chatter. She did not know if it was from the cold in the room – he was right about that – or the fear that dogged her. The decision he held out, one that might so easily solve most of her problems, buffeted her with conflicting loyalties, promises given, threats and betrayals.

  Damon had not broken his thought. “I understand that, I even can sympathize. This distrust goes both ways. I must be blunt and say I don’t trust your father. When he comes back from the sea, what then? The thought of him in a house with a tiny baby is enough to deprive me of sleep. Let us not forget that you already have too many siblings to care for. One of us must make the first step to reconciliation. You have done well, but this is too much for you, and it is unfair for Andrew’s child.”

  “You see?” His words gave her the anger she needed to stand up to him. “You did it again. Andrew’s child. Nothing about my sister.”

  “It was a slip of the tongue, nothing more,” he said, sounding almost as tired as she was.

  Verbena sighed and rubbed at the ache behind her forehead. “The leap of faith you are asking of me is too much. I cannot overlook that I gave her my solemn oath. You say this decision would allow me to keep my word to her but how can I know I will be able to raise him as Edeline would have wanted? She told me about the very world you live in, how people walk past starving children and only care that they are in the way.”

  Damon pressed a finger over her mouth, a gentle and implacable touch, and she stopped speaking instantly, shocked by his sudden touch and the warmth in the soft pressure of his fingers. “You can find people without conscience everywhere. I could tell you tales of the worst of humanity that happened among the poorest of people. I saw dying men be robbed of their boots, rings cut off fingers of men who were too injured to stop the thieves.”

  She blinked at the passion in his voice, the pain she heard there. Had he had his boots pulled off when he was too wounded to stop them? The pain of grief in her chest made room for a whole new ache as she looked up at his burning eyes and saw the shadows of nightmares there. His finger still held her words inside, only she could not have spoken anyway.

  He towered over her and she reminded herself that he was alive and healed, if not whole. “We can argue class all day long,” he said, his voice soft now, his eyes hiding his secrets again. “It won’t change the situation. We both now have a child to care for. You can give him love, I don’t doubt that at all, but that is not the point. The point is, how will you feed him? Keep him safe? Keep him warm? Clothe him? I can give him food so he will never want, surround him with guards if necessary, and provide him with the best schooling.”

  He lifted his finger, and her lips felt the loss of its warmth just as her hands had moments ago. She felt his mind chur
ning.

  “And I can give him you, if you marry me.” Damon’s eyes were suddenly determined, his jaw set. “What about Julius and Matthew and Lizabeth and Annabelle?”

  The children’s names slipped off his tongue so easily, almost as if he had been thinking about them these past months.

  He did not pause, just went on, his words an inexorable litany of her own worries. “Do you think I don’t know the boys wish to learn? What can they get in a small school? Is there even a school there most of the time? Where will they learn the sciences? I can get them tutors, teach them as many languages as their brains can hold and whatever else they wish to know. Will your sisters learn Italian, or even French? Learn to paint? To play an instrument, or any of the other accomplishments that will attract a husband?”

  He was using her siblings deliberately, she knew it, and it was working, forcing her to face the empty future they all were condemned to live. There was no choice, had not been since he learned of her sister’s pregnancy. All these months she had battled to hide Edeline and the baby, knowing she was fighting a battle only a miracle would let her win.

  She made one more attempt to refute him, the final and insurmountable problem that assent would leave her to fight. “Will you protect me from your family and the scorn Edeline endured?”

  Damon’s expression went blank. Verbena watched him draw inside himself, and felt him gather his will. She braced herself, and wished she had never made that vow to Edeline.

  He exhaled sharply, the sound hissing in the quiet room. “We will not fight over a dead woman’s words. We can’t raise the baby in a world of bitter words and resentment. Your sister is dead. I understand your hurt. My brother is dead as well. You are not your sister – I am not my brother.”

  In that deep, methodical voice, Damon continued, “That battle is over. It is done.” His eyes narrowed. “We will not fight your sister’s war. Whatever her grievances, they were hers alone, and they died with her. It was unfair of her to burden you with them.”