A Tarnished Heart

by Leslie Dicken

  “Most likely out visiting, miss. Can someone else ’elp ye?”

  “Will he be gone all day?”

  “No telling, miss.”

  “Thank you.” After dismissing her, Lizzie abandoned her post by the front door and headed past ancient portraits and old tapestries for the sanctuary of the rear terrace.

  The fragrance of spring blossoms instantly soothed her disappointed and anxious heart. Lizzie closed her eyes and for the briefest moment imagined herself at home.

  To her right would be the kitchen garden, probably plundered by the roaming chickens by now. Close to the stone wall, her daffodils and tulips would greet the warming sun. Along the wall to the left, grew climbing ivies and succulent honeysuckle. And then, behind her, hyacinth lined the path to the rear door, invigorating her weary muscles with their sweet aroma.

  Lizzie opened her eyes. Out in this small parcel of land, she saw bushes of roses not yet in bloom. How she wished to have their rich scent wash over her.

  Lizzie lowered herself to the hard wooden bench. Had it really been just over a week since Markham had kissed her here, since his lips trailed a fire down her throat, his fingers closed over her aching breast?

  She swallowed. They had not kissed since that day but she had not forgotten the taste of him, or how easily he could seduce her. She wanted to refuse him then but he lowered her defenses with his suggestions. He rattled her determination with his exotic scent and soft lips.

  But she was only a conquest to him, wasn’t she? No truth had been in his words to marry her. She wasn’t fooled.

  Lizzie slammed her fist on her lap. What did it matter if Markham wanted to marry her or not? Edmund waited for her.

  But she rarely thought of him now. Perhaps she’d only clung to him out of desperation to return home. Blast it, where did she belong?

  Lizzie’s gaze followed the flittering robins, their idle chatter a welcome sound to the awkward silence. What would it be like to lift one’s wings and fly off in any direction, without another controlling your destiny?

  The echo of footsteps brought Lizzie up short. Her heart trembled, anticipating Markham. But another man’s frame filled the rear doorway.

  “Ah, I see you are well and back on your feet.”

  Disappointment lowered her shoulders at the sight of a rakish grin and glittering blue eyes. “Lord Alcott, good afternoon.”

  “May I share a seat with you?”

  They weren’t chaperoned, it wasn’t proper. But she’d not cared about it before, so why bother now? Lizzie slid over to allow him more room. “By all means, please do sit.”

  Lord Alcott winked at her, dropping to the bench. His knee brushed her skirts. “Are you well enough to attend the Great Exhibition?”

  She tried to ignore the pressure of his leg against hers. “Today?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I’m not quite prepared. I want to go into Wapping. I would have been gone but had no vehicle to take me.”

  He grinned. “We can go by and pick them up.”

  “Take them with us? But I need to plan for it. Most likely the children are working and I must clear it first with their mother. You understand, don’t you?”

  Lizzie almost turned away from the gleam in his eyes. “I understand that you need more time,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “Perhaps we can plan it for another day. Saturday?”

  Lizzie bit her lip. What a lovely gesture to treat the Longs to a day at the Crystal Palace. But if she accepted this deed, it might give him the wrong impression—that she was interested in his courtship. But did he want her for a wife or only for Lord Helmsley’s delicious purpose? A mistress.

  Lord Alcott’s blue gaze drifted down to her mouth. “My mother would accompany as a chaperone and perhaps bring Lady Harkmoor along too. Tell me you’ll come. I know you will enjoy it.”

  How could she say no? Markham had never given her the impression he would bring her. Other than to mock her the other day, he’d said nothing at all about it. And he’d certainly never consider bringing any of the children with him.

  “Of course.” She gave him a tight smile. “On one condition.”

  Lord Alcott raised his eyebrow again. “Anything.”

  “I have use of your carriage today to ride to the Docks. I simply must get over there.”

  “Would you like me to join you?”

  His frank question startled her. Markham never asked such a thing. He just took over and climbed in with her, whether she wanted him or not. Despite the concern that the horrible landlord may have returned, Lizzie could not withstand Lord Alcott’s flirting any longer. She’d have to brave it alone.

  “No, thank you, my lord. I fear I may be gone a while.”

  He gently pressed his fingers atop her hand, but the touch did not flutter her heart. “As long as I have your promise for Saturday, you may have the carriage all day.”

  Her lips curled to a smile but she could not give him the answer he desired. Who could explain the mysterious workings of the human heart? Only a month or so ago, she believed Edmund to be the only man for her. But then her world turned upside down, as did her emotions and her traitorous body. It was Markham she dreamed of at night.

  Lizzie slid her hand from under Lord Alcott’s. “Thank you so much for the use of your carriage and most especially for the offer this Saturday.”

  “You are most welcome, Miss Parker. I look forward to it.”

  Unable to withstand that twinkle in his eyes any longer, Lizzie stood and moved to the doorway. How did her life become so very complicated in such a short time?

  More complications?

  Markham watched his stepbrother, who paced the library with the giddiness of a school girl. And all for what? Lending Lizzie his coach?

  “She has this fire.” Alcott said, suddenly swinging from the smoldering hearth to face him. “You must have seen it by now.”

  Seen it? Markham heard it in her sharp tongue, witnessed it in her rebellious behavior, tasted it in her pliant lips. Every day that went by without another kiss from Lizzie became another day that he went without proper sustenance. He craved her like the drunk craved his liquor.

  But, as usual, his complicated life made having her difficult. Already she was making him careless. Thinking of her diverted his focus. He had not lain awake thinking of Emily’s death in many days. How long had it been since he took care of important estate papers? He’d have never done such things before this Season. Before Lizzie.

  Yes, Markham had seen her fire. He’d been warmed by it in more ways than one.

  “You lent her the coach,” Markham encouraged. Was there more to this brewing excitement in his brother?

  Alcott waggled his eyebrows. “We’ve made plans to visit the Crystal Palace this Saturday.”

  A flash of heat blazed through Markham’s veins, inciting every hair to stand on end. “Miss Parker is going with you?”

  “That is what I said.” His stepbrother cocked his head without sympathy. “Pray tell, were you planning on taking her?”

  Markham crossed his arms, refusing to answer. He had planned to ask her once she mentioned it last week. But then the incident in Wapping, the dowager’s party…once Miss Parker laid in bed sick, he’d forgotten all about it.

  In fact, for the last several days he’d alternated between fear that she may not recover and fury that her illness may indicate a pregnancy. More complications.

  And now he’d lost the opportunity to bring her there, to show her the wonders of the world, to delight in her amazement. No, Alcott couldn’t have that all to himself.

  “I had planned to bring Lucas to London and take him on Saturday,” he lied. “But I was shocked to realize that you had such an interest in her.”

  His brother sank onto one of the overstuffed chairs and plopped his feet on the footstool before it. “Why? I don’t care for titles and bloodlines the way you do.”

  “You speak as if women are horses.”

  “Aren�
�t they to you?”

  Markham’s lips thinned. He leaned against a pillar. “Of course not.”

  “But then what of your marriage to Lady Emily? She was well titled and beautiful, just as Lady Harriet. They are more your match than the simple Miss Parker.”

  A low thrumming rose in Markham’s ears.

  “So do you fancy Miss Parker then?” His stepbrother gestured the air. “I’ve witnessed your kisses with her. Is she a sport to you this year? Or do you plan to be honorable?”

  “I have reasons for my actions.”

  Alcott laughed. “For what? Kissing the girl in the library then dropping her when caught? It was I who took Miss Parker to the opera. I who will be taking her to the Crystal Palace.”

  Tight lungs squeezed out a breath. “I said I have my reasons.”

  “Yes, you said that. But to me it is clear why she chose to accept my invitation. She certainly could not rely on you to bring her there, now could she?”

  Markham clenched his teeth, forcing the fury—the truth—back down his throat. Father had trained him well. Swallow the emotion. Reign in those careless behaviors. Why couldn’t he do it when Miss Parker was near? “When is she due to return?”

  Alcott gave a shrug. “She said she might be gone all day. I’ve not set my watch upon her return. She is, after all, your responsibility, isn’t she?”

  His responsibility. She should be his bride. If he could ever tame her wild heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Crystal Palace. Oh, Lizzie simply couldn’t wait to go. Each time they passed the enormous structure, her mouth watered. The wonders inside must be astonishing. And wouldn’t it be magnificent to share it with Elizabeth and the children?

  Lord Alcott’s coach dropped her at the Long’s wooden door. The sun, already hidden by building clouds, barely penetrated through the window.

  Only Elizabeth and Annabel were at home.

  “We’ve missed ye these last few days.”

  Lizzie took the girl and bounced her on her lap, the scent of an innocent baby calming her, overriding the fish smell she had yet to get used to. Still, she wished she hadn’t known the secret of Annabel’s father. It shouldn’t make a difference, but yet she felt sorrier for the child than ever. What a horrible way to be brought into this world. But thank God there were people who loved her.

  “I’ve been ill,” Lizzie replied, brushing crumbs from the drooling chin.

  “Yer not with child, are ye?”

  “With child?” Lizzie’s head snapped up. “Of course not.”

  Lizzie’s throat itched to ask if Elizabeth knew about Sarah’s attack, but she had made a promise to the girl. One she almost wished she hadn’t. Were it not for this happy bundle of joy, she would have told Elizabeth everything. Lizzie cleared her throat. “Elizabeth?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I want to take all of you to the Crystal Palace.”

  “We can’t afford that.”

  She set Annabel down to crawl on the floor. “But what about if I took all of you? Paid for your admission.”

  Elizabeth slid the glasses from her face and placed the sewing on the table. “In the same way ye paid fer my rent?”

  “Paid your rent? But I didn’t…” Oh God, had Markham done it?

  “Who then?”

  Lizzie felt the color drain from her face. “How-how do you know it’s been paid?”

  Elizabeth picked up her sewing again, quietly clucking her tongue. She squinted then remembered the glasses. “I went over to pay him and he said I owed nothing.”

  “For how long?”

  “I told ye I did not want yer charity.”

  Lizzie swallowed but a salty lump lodged in her throat. “Elizabeth, how long is your rent paid for?”

  “We can take care of ourselves.”

  “But you can’t.” Lizzie dropped her head into her hands. Blast it. What would her mother have done if she were here?

  Vision blurry, Lizzie chewed her lip to withhold the sob. She wanted to tell her of Sarah and the landlord, she wanted to protect all of them from the horrors permeating their lives. And yet, she could not embarrass the woman. She could not make it her place to undermine this mother’s authority.

  “Why ye weeping? I didn’t ask ye to leave.”

  Lizzie sniffled and wiped her eyes.

  “’Til next year.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Ye asked how long rent been paid. ’Til next year.”

  “But-but that’s nearly eight months’ worth.”

  “Aye. Who could’ve paid it ye think?”

  Markham. It must be him. No one else would have known. No one else would have had that amount of money with him. When he ushered the landlord out, he must have handed him a mass of coins. Is that what he whispered to Sarah?

  Lizzie sprang from her chair and pressed her face to the small window, unable to see more than just the cobblestone street. All along Markham had paid the man rent money to the end of the year. Markham had asked her to trust him. But she didn’t. He hadn’t bragged about his deed to her. He refused to answer her questions. Instead, she rushed back here afraid of what she might find, afraid that man would be back or that something worse might have happened.

  Her heart tightened, straining against her ribcage. Had she misjudged him all along? Was he not the boorish, selfish, mindless peer she thought him?

  Yet only giving money was not enough.

  “’Twas yer earl, wasn’t it?”

  Lizzie turned from the window, unable to meet Elizabeth’s gaze. “He isn’t my earl.”

  “Ah, but he means something to ye.”

  “Yes,” she answered finally, “it must have been him who paid your landlord.”

  “Did ye ask him to?”

  In a way Lizzie had asked him that day, but she never thought he would do it. He kept himself so hidden, she didn’t know what to think.

  “May I bring you and the children to the Crystal Palace? They would so enjoy it, I know they would.”

  Elizabeth sighed, the breath a hiss over rattling lungs. She didn’t sound well. “Take Albert. I’ll stay with the baby.”

  “But you can come too.”

  “Nay. I’m not up to walking and carrying on.”

  Lizzie knew better than to argue. And Elizabeth did not sound strong. “I will come for him on Saturday then, after breakfast.”

  “He’ll be delighted to go.”

  “Thank you. Now, why don’t you rest while I watch Annabel?” Or maybe she could do the sewing. Or find food for them.

  It had been too long that she’d been gone from the village, too long since she’d felt comfortable at taking care of others. These last few weeks had seen her at parties and balls and dinners. She’d worn gowns of silk and taffeta. Her hair had been dressed and twisted by another’s hands. A servant had prepared her every meal. Is that who she wanted to be?

  No. Oh blast it. Maybe.

  Lizzie chewed her lip again, the tears welling once more.

  “Nay,” Elizabeth answered. “Go on home. I like spending time alone with Annabel. Go tell the earl thank ye.”

  Lizzie inhaled a deep breath to calm herself. “But you were angry earlier with his charity.”

  “Aye,” she nodded, “I was. But what’s done is done. And now my children can afford a day off to visit the Palace.”

  So now it was back to Grosvenor Square, where Lizzie must locate Markham to offer him Elizabeth’s thanks. And then she needed to prepare for Saturday when another man would take her to see the wonders of the world.

  And she had yet to post a letter to Edmund.

  A furious knot lodged in Markham’s stomach. He was becoming worse at keeping himself impassive. For all of his adult life, and before, he could manage to swallow the rage, the fear, the reckless emotions that could lead to imperfection. That could lead to scandal.

  But then Miss Parker—Lizzie—came into his life. Now he was unraveling into a tangle of sentiments and passion
s.

  Markham paced the floor of his study, kicking chairs and plants out of his way.

  Frustration pounded in his skull. Lucinda was not at home to receive the duplicate ring. Alcott had once more got in his way with Lizzie. The wayward girl was yet again in that dangerous part of the city. And he had yet to determine fully if she carried a bastard child in her belly.

  A soft knock on the door interrupted his internal tantrum.

  Markham slashed his hand through his hair and straightened his clothes. “Enter.”

  Lizzie stepped into room and an unexpected warmth surge through his veins. Dressed in clothing she’d brought from the village, she appeared like that young girl he first observed.

  She marched straight up to him and thrust her hands on her hips. “You keep secrets from me.”

  Markham’s gut clenched. Secrets? Did she know of the blackmail, of his birth?

  He sucked in a deep breath, inhaled her intoxicating rosy scent, and forced himself not to react. Years of practice helped in times like this, but Lizzie usually had a way of disrupting his control.

  “Secrets?” he said, with more composure than he felt.

  Her green eyes sparked that fire Alcott had been going on about earlier in the afternoon. “Yes, secrets. Elizabeth Long.”

  He lifted a shoulder and leaned a hip against his desk. “What of her? I haven’t seen her since that first day you met her and I came to collect you.”

  Pink blossomed on her cheeks as her gaze narrowed. “You paid their rent.”

  Oh, so that was all. He could withstand her ire over this. But learning of the blackmail would destroy everything.

  Markham grinned. “I did. And this angers you.”

  “Well, of course. You assumed that handing over a few coins would make their life better.”

  “And hasn’t it?”

  “You saw where they live. How they barely have enough to eat. The children work so many days of the week, instead of learning like they should.”

  There it was again. That passion. That purpose. Not fancy parties, or expensive mock turtle soup. Miss Parker cared like no one he had ever known before.

  Red curls had fallen from her braid, but Markham resisted the urge to brush them from her face. “My help must do some good. They no longer have to worry about coming up with that expense.” Surely, she knew that.