by Sari Robins
“But you must have changed your mind about marriage, given you were about to wed.” Señor Arolas nodded approvingly.
“The warrant was for my kidnapping,” Justin supplied. “If we were married…”
“She could not be charged.” Señor Arolas seemed disappointed. “But obviously the man no longer needs the cloak of his office to conduct his illicit dealings.”
“Apparently he’s growing more desperate,” Justin concluded. “Which means that Angel and Sully are in ever more danger.”
Evelyn fisted her hands. “What can we do?”
Señor Arolas rubbed his chin, looking off into the distance. “Give him what he wants.”
“What?” Evelyn shrieked, leaning forward so quickly that her head felt like someone had ripped it open. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that bastard win.”
Justin shook his head, resolution lighting his eyes. “Señor Arolas has not yet explained what we will do to Wheaton once we’ve given him what he wants and he’s given us Angel and Sully.”
“Oh.” She leaned back. “How do we give him what he wants when we don’t know what it is?”
“We ask him,” Señor Arolas stated quietly. “I might not be a Titan, but this old Spaniard still has a few tricks up his sleeve.”
Chapter 29
Evelyn stared up at the dilapidated dwelling that looked exactly like every other one of the squat row houses on the grimy street, marveling that her refined mother could have come from such humble beginnings. Well, her mother was not exactly turning out to be the angel she remembered.
“Are you certain you wish to do this, Evelyn?” Justin asked, standing by her side, eyeing the residence askance.
“My wishes seem to have little enough to do with reality these days,” she replied, squaring her shoulders.
His fine carriage horses nickered and shifted in the narrow street, and the contrast between Justin’s fancy team and the neighborhood was not lost on anyone in the vicinity. The coach probably cost more than leasing the entire block for the year. Hard-faced working men and women scurried past, eyes aimed to the ground.
“I’m being serious, Evelyn.”
She let out a long breath. “Wheaton will not have seen the notice in the papers as of yet, and so we have time on our hands until he responds. Ismet and Shah are Lord knows where….” She sent him a plucky little smile, when she was feeling anything but. “We need to find out more about Wheaton and what he wants, and this seems the best way to do it. You’re the razor-sharp thinker; don’t you agree?”
“I can question the residents. You wouldn’t stay at home, but you can at least wait in the carriage….”
“For the hundredth time, Justin, I appreciate your concern, but you can stop worrying about my feelings. I don’t believe I can learn anything more disillusioning about my mother than that she tumbled with a murderer.”
He grabbed her arms and made her face him. His brilliant eyes shimmered with concern. “No one can deny you’re made of sturdy stuff, Evelyn. But why torture yourself?”
She raised her gloved hand to that dear face. “I need to do this, Justin. I need to take action, do something to help my friends.”
He watched her with a glowingly affectionate gaze that sent shivers coursing from her hairline to her toes. Ever since he had come to her rescue and she was finally free from doubt, her feelings were solidly in line with her physical reactions to the magnificent man. It was all a bit overwhelming, to say the least. She had no time for facing all of the feelings wrapped up inside of her, just aching to break free. And it was too much to hope that she ever would.
“Very well,” he murmured. He gave her arms a final squeeze for support and released her. Although it was what she had wanted, she suddenly missed his touch.
They faced the washed-out door that had once been white but now was a scratched shade of gray. Justin led her forward. Remarkably, he walked with only a slight limp.
The liveried footman raised a gloved hand and knocked. They waited a few long moments, staring at the colorless wood.
“Someone is definitely home, my lord,” the footman offered as he stepped aside. “I saw a face in the upstairs window.”
Finally they could hear a shuffle of feet and a bolt being shifted. The door opened a crack, and a brown-haired, mop-topped woman peered out. “Lawd in heaven, yer the spittin image of yer mother, may she rest in peace.”
The door creaked open wider, and a plump, dowdy woman in a soiled apron stepped aside to allow them to enter. “Welcome, welcome.”
Silently, they walked inside.
Evelyn blinked in the sudden gloom. The quarters smelled of cooked leeks and beer. Its low ceiling gave one a sense of enclosure, but otherwise, it was clean enough, with a family room entry, kitchen, and additional rooms toward the rear.
The woman rubbed her chubby hands nervously on her apron. She was platter-faced, with deep-set eyes, round, rosy cheeks, a button nose, reedy lips, and no evidence of chin. “I’m Dora. Dora Plum. You probably don’t remember me, I was yer mother’s maid her last year.”
A faint memory whispered on the edges of Evelyn’s vision. “I believe I recollect you being with us, but it’s a bit hazy. I’m sorry.”
The woman kept running her hands on her grubby apron. “Well, you were quite young, and you stuck to yer father pretty well, and that man of his.”
“Sullivan?” Justin asked.
She nodded and bit her lip, her worried brown eyes flashing to them and then away again.
Evelyn hoped to ease her concerns. “As you’ve already surmised, I’m Evelyn Amherst, and this is Lord Barclay.”
“Yer father always said you’d be back and that I was to give you the run of the place.”
Evelyn’s brow furrowed. “Why would he say such a thing?”
The woman waved toward the ramshackle furnishings in the family room. “Have a seat. I’d take the brown chair if I were you, my lord. It’s the sturdiest.”
Even though Evelyn would have liked for him to rest his injured foot, Justin seated her in the brown chair and stood behind her. “Thank you, but I’ll stand.”
Evelyn eyed him disapprovingly but dismissed the notion of being a mother hen for the moment. “Please tell me what else my father said, Mrs. Plum.” She leaned forward, fascinated by this glimpse into her background and anxious for a morsel of connection to her father.
The woman’s ruddy cheeks blushed pink. “I never married.”
“My mistake, Miss Plum.”
She patted her mousy hair. “Not a problem. I always knew a man wouldn’t be takin’ me for a wife, but I do fine well enough, thanks to yer father.” Her worried brown eyes suddenly flashed to Evelyn’s black gown, and she sputtered, “Dear Lawd in heaven, don’t say it’s true.” She shook her head and sniffed. “I’d wondered why you’d come, and now I know.”
She yanked out a cloth from under her apron and sniffled into the rag. “He was a good man. Set me up when he didn’t owe me a thing. I’d only worked for yer family for a year or so. He was a blessed soul.” She began to bawl, and to Evelyn’s dismay, started to bellow uncontrollably. Her howls and moans reverberated through the small parlor.
Concerned, Evelyn leaned forward. “Can I get you something, Miss Plum?”
The bawling intensified as Miss Plum waved her off, bellowing even louder, “Oh, yer just like him. Good, fine, decent, kindhearted….”
Justin spoke softly, “We’re here simply to find out more about Mrs. Amherst and the neighbor next door. We’ve no interest in turning you out.”
The bawling ceased abruptly, and those beady eyes watched them warily. “No fooling?” She blew another sniff into her hankie for good measure.
Realization dawned, and Evelyn felt like a pudding-head.
“Do we look like we’re ready to move in?” he quibbled in a soft voice, without a shred of disdain.
Evelyn asked, “What was your arrangement with my father?”
The rag prompt
ly found its way back under Miss Plum’s soiled apron. “When he gave me the lease for life, he made me promise three things,” she replied in a tone that was coolly composed once more.
She ticked off the items on her stubby fingers. “First, keep the place up for him, which I was glad to do. I was never a lagabout. Also I was supposed to inform him ‘posthaste’ if anything happened to the place. Even the smallest things he wanted to know.”
Miss Plum nodded solemnly. “I have to say, when I asked if my mother could come live with me in her last days, he was most accommodating. And then when I let him know that she’d died, well, he posted the nicest letter and sent a little something to help with the funeral expense. I had Rector Arnold read it to me, and even he said it was one of the finest condolences he’d ever come across. He even took some of the words for his sermon that week.”
She leaned forward conspiringly. “T’be honest, I keep hearing those words in most of his sermons since. But, getting back to it, the final thing was that if you ever come back, and he said you would, I was to give you anything you wanted and give you the run of the place.” She stood. “Whew. I don’t remember the last time I said so much at one time. I need a nip. You want anything?”
Evelyn blinked. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“Did Sir Amherst give any indication of what Evelyn might want upon her return?” Justin asked quietly, judiciously eyeing the room and its environs.
“Not really, although I figured she might want to see the memorial for her mother. Lovely notion, to have a tribute for eternity.” She shook her head. “Now, there was a love-match if I ever saw one.”
Justin sent Evelyn a meaningful look, and she rose. “Would you show us, please?”
Nodding, the stocky woman led them to the back threshold, through the tidy kitchen and out the rear door to the miniature square of dirt that was considered a back garden. In the corner in the ground by the weather-beaten wooden fence was a rectangular marble headstone, not more than a hand span across and high.
Evelyn peered down and read aloud the inscription on the gray stone, “And the gods rained teardrops of splendor from the heavens, yet wept for your burden, my darling. I love you, always.” A swell of sadness built in her chest, threatening to bring her own mortal tears. Her father should have been a bard.
Justin coiled his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. The solid warmth of his body and his caring comfort gave her a wholly different sense of belonging. She did not belong at this dwelling. She might not belong to this country, but part of her had found a little pocket of space inside Justin’s heart, and that was a place she yearned to call home.
She gently unwrapped his arm. Hope was something she had to distrust, for with it came heartache. She cleared her throat and faced the portly woman. “What can you tell us about the neighbors, Miss Plum?”
Miss Plum waved to the matching square of dirt in the adjacent yard. In contrast to Miss Plum’s neat garden, it was littered with refuse and scarred with castoffs.
Scowling, Miss Plum shook her head. “It’s a cryin’ shame to have such a mopsie with wee children. Why, she has a brood of four, each with a different pa.” She scratched her mousy brown hair. “Rector Arnold’s been trying to help her, but the wanton is set in her ways.”
“Actually, we are interested in learning about one of the prior tenants, Miss Plum,” Justin interjected. “Mr. Wheaton.”
“Oh, him? He was a nice boy and he grew up to be a decent landlord. Too decent, if you ask me. I can’t believe how he allows that light-heeled woman to stay next door. She can’t possibly meet the rent, seeing as how she don’t work a decent job and she can’t seem to keep a man around long enough to do things right. Wheaton should set her out on her bottom.”
Evelyn could not keep the tinge of irritation from creeping into her voice as she asked, “If he set her out, wouldn’t that mean four young children would be on the street as well?”
Miss Plum blinked and her round cheeks went pink, as if she suddenly realized that she might find herself out on that same street if others shared her ungenerous attitude.
“Can you tell us anything more about Mr. Wheaton, Miss Plum?” Justin asked coolly.
Evelyn knew him well enough to discern his impatience with the woman, but he managed to put business first, and she would follow his example. “Yes, have you seen him recently?”
Eyeing them warily, she said, “He comes around every couple of months. To collect the rents, I’m sure. I’ve passed him on the street a few times and he always says good day. He’s never forgotten where he came from, that one, even though he’s bettered himself, by the look of it. I heard he’s a military man.”
“Did my father ever mention him?”
“Not that I recollect.”
Sighing, Evelyn stared down at the memorial to her mother and realized that it was positioned in the far corner of the garden so that the inhabitants of the neighboring house could not see it. She wondered if Father had done that on purpose, for the tribute to be his alone, untainted by the memory of the deceitful cad next door. She turned away, suddenly feeling unclean. She did not want to know more about her mother’s faithlessness, nor did she want to explore Wheaton’s villainy. She just wanted peace for herself and her loved ones.
That thought brought Angel and Sully back to the fore and resolve flooded through her, more potent than any tidal wave. “You were right, my lord, this is not a good use of our time. Good day, Miss Plum. Thank you for being so gracious.” She hoped the woman took the hint and was kinder to her neighbors.
“You go on,” Justin suggested. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Surprised, but anxious to be away from this place, Evelyn drifted into the residence.
Miss Plum tracked closely behind her, muttering, “Yer certainly quite kindhearted….”
Watching the women move off, Justin missed Evelyn’s rejoinder, but he was certain Miss Plum would think twice before sharing her malicious opinions again. Leave it to Evelyn to set others to rights without demoralizing them. She amazed him more and more with each passing day. He was in awe of her steadfast dedication to others, her astute intellect, and her earnest compassion. He feared that his days with her, however, might be numbered.
The irony of his situation did not evade him. This tangle was a dangerous game indeed, but while it waged on, Evelyn was by his side, sharing her deliciously refreshing humor, her melodious voice, her cherished smile. Justin was determined to unravel the complex web his former superior had woven around the woman he held so dear, entangling him and the entire branch. Yet in disentangling this dastardly maze, Justin would do the thing he most feared in the world: set Evelyn free. Once her friends were safe and her inheritance secured, there would be nothing to keep her in England.
He repressed a shudder. He could not imagine life without her. He could barely recall his life before her, other than that it had been loveless and wan. She sparkled, she laughed, she worried over her loved ones like a mother hen, and it gave him no end of pleasure that she counted him in her brood to cherish. But he needed more than lighthearted affection; he wanted her to love him enough that she could not bear to leave him. Even if she would not walk down the aisle with him, staying by his side would be enough.
Thinking of the reason Evelyn found the idea of marriage so repugnant, he turned and looked down at the memorial. While keeping his weight off his injured foot, he squatted down awkwardly before the small rectangular marble. Hessians were not exactly known for their give, and an injured foot did not help.
“And the gods rained teardrops of splendor from the heavens, yet wept for your burden, my darling. I love you, always.”
Balancing on the ball of his good foot, he traced his gloved fingertips over the inscription. Something was nagging at his consciousness, hovering on the edge, never coming clear. “‘And the gods rained teardrops of splendor…’” he read. What burden did they weep for? Evelyn’s mother’s rootless life? Justin
rubbed his temple. It would come to him eventually; he just needed to let it go.
He rose just as a set of sharp blue eyes topped by a dirt-smeared forehead and scraggly blond hair peered over the edge of the wooden fence.
A squeaky voice shrieked, “Holy! You’ve got the greatest set a gallopers a man’s ever seen!” The man in question could not have been long out of leading strings. His head barely came to the top of the fence.
“You’ve an eye for horseflesh?” Justin countered, amused, eyeing the filthy clothing and hole-poked shoes.
“Won’t be before long and I’m gonna be a cavalry officer!”
“Really?”
“Pap says he’s gonna get me a horse. All me own fer when I grows up and can be in a regiment. I bet he’ll get me one as fine as yers, maybe even finer!”
“Your father sounds like a military man.”
“Not me father, me Pap,” he replied with the impatience of a young whelp dying to crow. “The king himself told me Pap what a crack job he’s done in battle.”
Truth slipped into place in Justin’s mind, as it always did when pieces of a puzzle found their address. “Colonel Wheaton is your…grandfather?”
“D’ya know him?”
“Oh, he’s very famous,” Justin assured. “Everyone’s heard of his daring exploits on behalf of king and country.”
Pride shone from those recognizable steely blue eyes. “Ya don’t say!”
A slender woman with dirt-blond hair and a haggard face stepped out the rear door to the boy’s house. A howling, butter-toothed baby was perched on her hip. She was the spitting image of her father, the colonel.
This bit of intelligence about Wheaton revealed more about the colonel’s character than any of the man’s actions thus far. Another piece of an exceedingly mystifying puzzle that Justin was determined to crack.