That fear caught Shannah again. An escort? Who, exactly? She couldn’t ask too many questions for fear Millie may become suspicious. Shannah tried to relax. Certainly such a thing had been done before. Not all maids lived in the servants’ quarters. She needn’t feel singled out. Lord Brendan couldn’t intend to escort her home himself. He’d have to abandon his guests to do so. It would be the height of rudeness, not to mention impropriety.
She took a deep breath and concentrated on her work. What if he wanted to speak with her? What if he actually did come to her home? She had to prevent that at all costs. Shannah fought the urge to throw up her hands in despair. Why did serving at the party have to be so complicated? But she couldn’t back out without a solid reason, one that she could actually share with Millie and Lord Brendan.
Shannah completed the remainder of her duties for the day and headed home just as sunset scorched the sky. This happened to be her favorite time of day, not because of the glorious colors surrounding her but because it was the only time she was ever alone. She spent the walk to her doorstep lost in her own thoughts; her feet knew the way without instruction.
Like every day, the moment she entered the clearing where her grandfather had built his house, her brother’s mangy dog’s bark announced her arrival to the entire homestead. In less time than it took her to count to three, the front door crashed open and out tumbled her three favorite people.
Matthew reached her first, as the oldest his legs were much longer. “Good day?” he asked as he took her shawl and lunch pail from her.
“As ever,” she responded. Shannah never shared more worries than she had to with her brother. He tended to fret more than a boy ought, but that was one of the consequences life dealt them.
Kora pulled at her skirt. “Mama, up.” She looked up with soulful eyes. At five years she should have had a fuller vocabulary, but Kora hadn’t shown much interest in talking. Shannah didn’t know if it was stubbornness or something else.
Shannah lifted her with a sigh. “Not Mama, pet. Sissy. Mama’s gone.” The oft repeated words reopened the wound in her heart. Her sister didn’t even remember their mother. Would it hurt so much if she believed Shannah to be her ma?
Baby Royce toddled down the stairs, barely clearing the last step as Shannah approached him. “How’s my little man?” she cooed.
He lifted his head and pinned her with glorious chocolate eyes as he babbled happily at her, not once taking his fingers from his mouth. Shannah laughed and tousled his dark curls. Such an adorable child. He’d won her heart moments from birth and had never relinquished it. She took his free hand and led him into the house.
“I made rabbit stew for dinner,” Matt told her. “Kora tried to help and almost burned the biscuits.”
“Mama, owie.” Kora offered her a chubby hand, complete with bandaged fingers.
Shannah kissed it. “She didn’t burn herself, did she?”
“Of course not,” he said. “She insisted on the bandages anyway, but I kept her from harm.”
Shannah smiled at him. “You always do. You’re the best brother a girl could ask for. Now, could you get the door before I drop her? I’m starving and dinner smells wonderful.”
CHAPTER 4
Brendan stood just beyond the clearing, feeling ridiculous. Unable to think of a logical reason to see her at home, he’d been reduced to skulking around trees and bushes through the forest. Not that she seemed to notice anything. From the moment she stepped into the woods bordering his property, she’d barely paid any attention to her surroundings.
He stopped under the cover of some blackberry bushes and a low hanging willow that gave him a clear view of the house without revealing him. A dog barked and he jumped. Then the house expelled young children who swarmed Shannah.
Brendan felt a familiar sensation of wrongness, something that had served him well in battle. But he was far from the enemy now, or was he? Shannah greeted the tallest child, a boy with her dark curls. His stomach clenched when the little girl called her mama. Impossible. Shannah was no more a mother than he was. But, considering the child’s obvious youth and judging by what Millie had told him, it was unlikely the girl could remember her own mother. She’d naturally latch on to her older sister as a mother figure.
The tiny child gave him pause. He couldn’t discern boy or girl with that head full of dark curls. But too young, far too young to belong to Shannah’s parents.
To whom did he belong?
Brendan strode into the clearing before he recalled he had no business being there. It didn’t take long for him to remember, though, and he turned immediately to return to the relative shelter of the trees.
Luck did not favor him. Before he’d taken one step of retreat the door of the house banged open and he heard Shannah’s strained voice.
“Matthew! Come back!”
Brendan glanced over his shoulder to see the boy, his face a storm cloud of emotion, cross the porch and hit the steps at a run. Head down, not seeing anything around him, he was about to charge right into Brendan’s back. He turned to catch the child, to soften the impact, but his movement called attention to his presence. Matthew’s head shot up and he froze like a deer caught in a hunter’s sights.
Shannah appeared in the doorway in the same moment. “Matt--.” Her voice died when Brendan met her eyes.
“Shannah?” Matthew’s voice broke the sudden stillness, no evidence of his earlier anger.
“Come here, Matt.” Shannah motioned with her hand but he’d already spun to race back to her. Whatever spat had caused his exit seemed forgotten.
Brendan took a deep breath and prepared to make some excuse for his presence at her home but she beat him to it. Without glancing at the boy she pushed Matthew behind her and called out, “My lord, what a surprise. I didn’t know you intended to pay us a visit.”
“I didn’t.” That, at least, was truth. “That is to say I had no intention of intruding, but I was taking a stroll and heard a sound and thought to investigate.”
“A stroll?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Less than an hour before Mrs. Scrab serves dinner?”
Blast, she would know the household schedule. “I felt like some exercise.”
Shannah folded her arms and fixed him with a hard look. Not challenging, exactly, but disbelieving. “I’ve never heard of you walking through the woods before, my lord. If ever you wish exercise, you usually ride that lovely horse of yours.”
Every servant in his employ must know his business, he supposed. “I’m allowed to desire a change of pace, so to speak,” he countered. “I didn’t realize you lived so close to my chosen path.”
That was a direct lie, but he drew himself up in a stance challenging her to call him on it.
A tiny face appeared at her side. “Mama?”
Alarm flashed in Shannah’s eyes and she whispered to Matt, who took the child and disappeared into the house. Brendan watched her, fascinated. Why would she react that way?
Did she think he’d assume she was the child’s mother?
“I’m certain you’re busy, Shannah, but since I did happen to stumble upon you, I’d like to ask you to come up to the manor early tomorrow,” he said. “About an hour before you begin your duties, if possible. I shall meet you in my study.”
“Why?”
Did he detect a tremor in her voice? “There are some things you and I need to discuss.” He raised an eyebrow. “I trust that is sufficient reason for your employer to request your appearance.”
She bowed her head, humbled, he assumed. “Of course, my lord. I shall be there.”
Brendan inclined his head. “Excellent. Until tomorrow, then.”
“Goodnight, my lord.” Shannah shut the door before he could respond, and even from across the clearing he could hear the bolt slide home. The idea that she had something to hide struck him again, but he couldn’t imagine what that could be.
CHAPTER 5
Shannah leaned against the door and took a
deep breath in an effort to calm her racing heart. She didn’t believe for a moment that Lord Wyndham had just happened upon their home. She’d bet a year’s wages that he had come on purpose, but why? Did he suspect something?
Did he know?
Should she take the children and leave?
Shannah breathed deeper and closed her eyes. As if they could—they had nowhere else to go. She couldn’t risk the children’s lives or safety by taking them on the run.
It had been more than two years since that horrible night, but just one thought and all the old fears returned in a rush. The dreaded fever ravaged the village, the countryside, and finally Wyndham manor, killing indiscriminately. Her father fell ill first, then her mother, and then Matthew and Garnette. Shannah and tiny Kora had been spared.
Their father died in two short days. Garnette hung on the longest. Matthew’s fever broke the night their mother died, but Garnette clung to life long enough to deliver a healthy son. Then, spent and still deathly sick, she’d taken her last breath—the breath she’d used to confess Royce’s parentage and exact Shannah’s promise to keep her secrets.
Why had she agreed? Because she didn’t expect Royce to survive—brand new and entering a house of sickness? To give Garnette peace, certainly, but also because she knew the truth of her elder sister’s words. If Royce’s father found out about him, he’d take him away. Shannah would lose her nephew forever.
She couldn’t allow that to happen. She knew her purpose, to raise her siblings and Royce to adulthood to the best of her abilities. That included using the last of her parents’ money to bury them and Garnette and then buy a nanny goat so the baby would have milk. It meant taking extra jobs whenever the opportunity presented itself, because the few extra coins she gained could mean the difference between food for the children and starvation. It meant selling the goat’s extra milk in town, a job Matthew had taken over the year before.
It also meant sacrificing courting, or long walks with a beau. Shannah had forgotten the meaning of leisure. Her only moments of rest came in the seconds after her head hit the pillow and before her eyes closed every night. But it would all be worth it if she could see the children grown and settled happily in their own lives.
Royce tugged on her skirt and lifted his arms, shaking her from her memories. Shannah bent and picked him up, pulling him close to snuggle until he struggled to break free. She laughed at his independent nature, and set him back on his feet.
She and Matt fed the younger ones and then did their nightly chores; but all the while her thoughts raced, reliving the encounter with Viscount Wyndham over and over in her mind. What would she say to him in the morning? What story could she spin that would be close enough to the truth to not be seen as a lie?
After the kitchen area had been cleaned up and the last of the chores done, Matt took Royce for a bath and Shannah and Kora settled in their mama’s lumpy chair for a story. Shannah didn’t read well, but she could remember every one of her mother’s bedtime stories. She shared them with her siblings and with Royce, so they would have a part of mama’s legacy.
Kora fell asleep before Shannah finished, her little fingers tucked into her mouth and her long, dark lashes fanned across round cheeks. Shannah suspected she would grow into a great beauty like Garnette and Mama. Poor Kora would have to fight the local boys off with a stick.
Matthew returned then, cuddling a clean and sleepy Royce. They shared a tired smile over his head. The younglings were a handful, certainly, but so worth it. Shannah watched her brother put their nephew to bed. Matt would grow big and strong like their pa. Andrew Marshall had been highly respected for his work ethic and honesty. If she had anything to say about it, Matt would follow in his father’s footsteps.
Instantly Shannah thought of her interrogation with the viscount the next morning, and shivered. She had to put on a convincing performance for Lord Brendan or everything she’d worked so hard for would end.
CHAPTER 6
The hour had grown quite late, but still Brendan tossed and turned in his comfortable bed. He stared at the underside of the canopy because every time he closed his eyes, images of a caramel-skinned minx danced through his mind. Shannah would be quickly followed by the children, last of all the littlest, who would stick in his brain.
He hadn’t been close enough to get a good look at the child, let alone determine the child’s gender. But boy or girl, where did the child come from?
Brendan groaned and lit a candle. A year ago, he wouldn't have had to worry about Shannah. A year ago, his father had been alive, and young Brendan was enlisted in the king's army. He didn't even know Shannah then. But then, he'd gotten a missive from his mother about the fever, about his father’s sudden death, and how he had to return and run their vast estates. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—escape the responsibility, but he also couldn’t dismiss the mystery of that small child.
He’d heard the accounts of the fever, how many it had killed, how few infants had survived. He’d read his father’s journal, faithfully kept until that final illness. There simply weren’t that many two-year-old-sized children left in their little corner of Brundidge.
Brendan supposed the child could have been born after the fever had swept the area. He wasn’t exactly the most skilled at guessing a child’s age, and the younger they were, the harder that became.
Brendan snatched up a brocaded robe and shrugged it over his naked shoulders. Tying the rope belt, he went downstairs to the kitchen. Since he didn't remember the house well, he always carried a lighted candle at night. Christopher was in the kitchen, stuffing thick slices of ham into a roll from dinner.
"Hello, old man," Chris greeted when he saw his older brother. "Responsibilities of estate life keeping you up nights?" His grin, so similar to Brendan’s, flashed in the darkness. The two had always looked more alike than brothers should without being twins, but their personalities contrasted sharply.
“Not really.” Brendan placed his candle on the table and slid into a chair.
"A woman, perhaps?"
Brendan inwardly sighed. So far, Chris had been right on both counts. Shannah was both an estate responsibility and a woman. "It's nothing important."
The younger man looked at his brother. "Right," he drawled. "Now try telling me the truth."
Brendan decided it was worth a try. Chris had always been good with advice. "Do you know the Marshall girl?"
Christopher's brown eyes darkened noticeably. "What do you want to know?"
Surprised by the frostiness of his brother’s tone, Brendan studied Chris a moment before replying. "Do you know Shannah?"
"Shannah?" Chris relaxed. "Sorry, Bren. I thought we were speaking of Garnette."
"Garnette?" Brendan asked.
Chris almost laughed at his brother's surprised expression. "Yes. Garnette is, I mean was, Shannah's older sister."
Brendan leaned forward and folded his arms across the table top. "Tell me about her.”
"Well, I imagine someone has to," his brother agreed. "It all began three years ago. You were in battle at the time, so you never heard the tale. Garnette was an upstairs maid here then. She was sixteen, I think. This was before Father imposed his rule about house servants, and so...."
"You fell for the girl," Brendan supplied.
“Yes.” Christopher’s mouth thinned, and he paused before continuing. "One could say we both fell quite thoroughly. I loved her with all my being. We made plans to marry, but when I went to Mother and Father, everything fell apart.” He sighed and shook his head. “I’ve never seen Mother so apoplectic. I thought she’d have a stroke.”
“I can’t imagine Father was thrilled either,” Brendan said.
“Of course not. You know how they’ve always been, about their plans for both of us and how we need to marry well and secure a future for our posterity and the precious family name.”
Brendan raised an eyebrow at the venom in his brother’s tone, but didn’t comment on it. “What
did you do then?”
“I wanted to fight for her, but Garnette wouldn’t hear of me tearing away from my family.” Chris gave a small smile. “Family was always so important to her. So I agreed to wait, as she suggested. Garnette was certain if Mother and Father saw how serious we were, how committed, they’d come around.”
“Naïve, certainly,” Brendan observed.
“The next thing I knew they’d shipped me to Dansby and school,” Chris told him. “Father sent a stipend directly to his solicitor in Dansby for my needs, but I never had enough money to come back for her.”
Brendan frowned. “They separated you? Just like that?”
His brother nodded. “I’d saved a bit of my pocket money, and was all set to return for the holiday when Father wrote about the fever. He told me not to come. I had no idea it would be the last thing I ever received from him.”
“And Garnette?”
“She died the same time Father did. I didn’t even know she was ill.” Christopher let his head fall to rest in his hand. “I wrote to her almost every day, but never heard a reply. I was frantic to get back here and reaffirm my devotion to her. You can’t imagine the guilt, Bren. If only I’d saved more of my money, skipped a meal once or twice so I could pocket the gold, not bought that new necktie—the list goes on. If I could have returned before she fell ill, I could have saved her.”
Brendan watched his brother, usually so carefree, wrap himself in the misery that hung in the air. “You truly loved her.”
“With everything that I am.”
“Then after her death, Shannah came to work here,” Brendan said.
“It wasn’t just Garnette. Their parents both died of the fever as well.”
“Millie mentioned that earlier today,” Brendan told him. “Did you know the family well?”
Chris lifted a shoulder. “He never said anything outright to me, but I got the distinct impression that her father didn’t approve of our love. I don’t think he thought my intentions were entirely honorable.”
“A father’s right,” Brendan agreed. “But you would have married her if you’d had the chance.”
Chris opened his mouth as if to say something, but clamped his jaw shut almost immediately. Instead he nodded.
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