Gayle Wilson

by Lady Sarah's Son

  “Then I wonder how work at the Park is progressing,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, the question practical.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t had time to inquire,” she admitted. She hadn’t. There had been too much to do here.

  Justin glanced down at Drew, who was snapping the loop of the crop against the corner of the desk, obviously enjoying the small pop of sound, and then up at her. “How’s your father?” His eyes made their own apology for not having inquired before.

  “He’s much better, thank you. He usually is for a period of time after...”

  “I’m glad,” Justin said.

  Then there was a small silence, unbroken except for the crack of the miniature whip. Sarah wanted to ask if he were well, but it was obvious he was much better than when he had gone up to London. She had gleaned from some of the things the earl’s staff had said that he had gone there to seek medical treatment. She wasn’t sure what that treatment involved, but she had surmised that’s why he hadn’t worn the artificial foot while he was in London. Now he was wearing it again.

  And so, she reasoned, he must be better. She resisted the strong inclination to allow her eyes to trace down the straight line of his trouser leg. She concentrated instead on the improved color in his face. On the fact that he was no longer so thin and drawn. Much more like the man he had been before he had gone to Spain.

  More like her Justin, she thought. Her beloved Justin.

  “I think I’ll check on their progress,” he said.

  Their progress? The workers at the Park, she realized.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Shall I go with you?” Drew asked.

  “Not this time,” the earl said, smiling at him.

  His words fell almost on top of Sarah’s protest.

  “You’ve only just arrived,” she said. “I haven’t had a moment alone with you.”

  That was not what she meant to say. It seemed to imply that she didn’t want Justin here, and of course, that was the furthest thing from her mind. And from her heart. Even Drew’s eyes widened over her unthinking statement.

  “Another day, Drew,” Justin promised softly.

  Before Sarah could formulate protest or apology, he had turned away. The doorway was suddenly empty, and she listened to his steps retracing the path they had followed only a few minutes before. The anticipation that had been in her heart turned to disappointment.

  “Don’t you like Wynfield?” Drew asked. “Don’t you want him here with us?”

  She forced her eyes to focus on Drew rather than on the doorway from which Justin had disappeared. Her cheeks burned with regret and embarrassment. “Of course I do,” she said.

  Drew’s eyes examined her face, seeking confirmation of that. It was no wonder he. was skeptical, given her choice of words. And if he doubted her feelings, then what must Justin think?

  “I’m very glad you’re home. I’ve missed you both,” she said.

  “He’s going to teach me to ride.”

  “I thought he would,” Sarah said, smiling at him.

  Just as he will teach you all the other things you must know. The things that will make you the same kind of man he is. And if nothing else ever comes of this marriage... She broke off that thought, a possibility she didn’t want to admit. Considering the impediments the specter of their past relationship brought to this one, however, it was a possibility.

  If nothing else ever came of her marriage, she forced herself to conclude, then the place Wynfield had assumed in Drew’s life was quite enough return on her investment. Quite enough return on all her investments.

  “Hello.”

  Andrew looked up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He had been cracking the thong of the crop along the paddock fence, waiting for Wynfield. It was already twilight, on another one of the winter’s short days, but the earl always tried to return to Longford before nightfall, preferring not to take Star through the forest in the dark.

  A good horseman protects his mount, he bad said. Drew was confident, therefore, that Wynfield would be back soon. They could walk up to the house together, and he would ask when they could begin his riding lessons. He had been wishing the earl would hurry, and shivering, despite his heaviest coat, as the sky grew grayer. And then the stranger had spoken to him.

  “’Lo,” Drew said.

  The man was leaning against the wall of the stable. Not a groom. His clothes were too fine. They seemed finer even than Wynfield’s, who was a peer.

  “Are you Andrew?” the man asked.

  His eyes were smiling, as was his mouth. Drew smiled back at him, liking the way the skin wrinkled around the corners of his eyes. They were dark blue, he realized. Like his. And like Sarah’s.

  “I’m Andrew,” he agreed. “Drew if you like.”

  “I like that very much.”

  The stranger straightened away from the wall and began to move closer to where Andrew was waiting. He was as tall as Wynfield, Drew realized, but... thicker. Bigger, he amended, watching the stranger saunter across the frozen ground of the paddock. He didn’t limp like the earl, of course. Perhaps that meant he hadn’t been a soldier.

  “What’s your name?” Drew asked. He forgot to pop the crop against the fence, watching the stranger’s approach instead.

  “My name is David.”

  “Like in the Bible?” Drew asked.

  David laughed. The sound of it was as nice as his smile. Neither Sarah nor Wynfield laughed very much, Drew realized. On Christmas Eve, of course, but they hadn’t today. Today...

  “Very much like the David in the Bible, I’m afraid.”

  The man was now standing beside him, his hand held out, palm up. “That’s a fine crop,” he said. “May I see it?”

  Although his present was still very new and special, since it had once belonged to the earl, Drew’s good manners managed to overcome his reluctance to let the crop out of his possession, if only for a moment. He laid it on the outstretched palm and watched, fascinated, as the stranger’s eyes smiled at him again before examining the whip.

  “A very fine crop,” he said finally. “I had one much like this when I was with the army in India.”

  “India,” Drew breathed.

  “A very long time ago,” David said. “Would you like to hear about India?”

  “And about the army,” Drew exclaimed, his eyes wide.

  Sarah had told him not to talk to Wynfield about the war because she was afraid it would make him sad, but this gentleman was obviously not sad about the time he had spent in the military. His eyes were still smiling.

  “And about the army, of course,” David agreed easily, holding out the crop.

  Drew’s small, gloved fingers closed around it, his eyes on his new friend’s face. Another soldier, he thought excitedly.

  “Do you know Wynfield?” he asked.

  “The earl? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of his acquaintance. Is he a friend of yours?”

  Drew nodded. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting at any moment to see Star, carrying Wynfield home on his back. The path that led from the woods was very dark, however. And still empty.

  “Is there somewhere we could go to talk?” David asked. “It’s a bit cold out here. Nothing like the cold in the mountains of Tibet. Nothing at all like that. Of course, it was the contrast to the heat that made it worse, I suppose. The heat in India is terrible in the summers. Why, I remember one campaign....” David hesitated in his reminiscence, looking across the paddock toward the stables.

  The grooms would be there, Drew knew—waiting, just as he was, for Wynfield to return. “It’s warmer inside the stables,” he suggested. “There’s always a fire in the tack room.”

  David’s eyes came back to his face. “Then you should be there. Or inside the Hall,” he said. “I’ve kept you standing in the cold too long. Sarah will never forgive me, I’m afraid.”

  “Sarah knows I come here,” Drew said.

  David laughed. “Running away
from her skirts? Good for you.”

  For some reason Drew was stung by the laughter, despite the compliment that followed. It made it sound as if he were still a baby, clinging to Sarah as he had once done.

  “I don’t have to run away,” Drew protested. “I always come here in the afternoons to wait for Wynfield.”

  “Waiting for the earl, are you? Then I’d better not keep you from your duty,” David said. Smiling, he put his heels together and snapped a smart salute. “We’ll talk another day when you aren’t so busy.”

  “You were going to tell me about India,” Drew reminded him.

  “And I will, but...” The well-shaped lips pursed a little. “Not tonight. You wait for the earl if you wish. I’ll tell you my stories another day.”

  “When?” Drew asked.

  “Tomorrow afternoon?” his new friend suggested. “If you are free then.”

  Eagerly Drew nodded, his eyes shining.

  “There are braziers in the conservatory,” David said. “It should be warm enough there. Do you know where that is?”

  “Beside the gardener’s bothy,” Drew said quickly.

  “I should have known that a boy like you would know every nook and cranny of this estate,” he said. “I’ll be in the conservatory at four o’clock tomorrow. If you meet me, I’ll tell you all about that campaign. As well as any other things you should like to know about India.”

  “All right,” Drew said.

  David’s long fingers fished in his waistcoat pocket. He extracted a watch, detaching it from its chain. “Can you tell the time, Drew?” he asked.

  “Of course. I’m not a baby, you know.”

  “No, you’re not,” David agreed readily. “With this, you will know exactly when to come for our appointment.”

  He held out the watch, but Drew didn’t reach for it. He had never held a watch before, although he really could tell time. Sarah had taught him.

  “Do you see this dent?” David asked, leaning closer to show him a small crease in the metal. “That’s a scar made by a bullet,” he said, his voice very low, sounding almost as full of wonder as Drew felt. “This watch saved my life. Which, as I’m sure you can imagine, makes it very special to me. Take good care of it, Andrew. But of course, I know you will. After all, you aren’t a baby.”

  Unable to resist, Drew gathered the pocket watch off the stranger’s palm before he looked up into the face of the man who had trusted him with the very thing that had once saved his life.

  David was still smiling, even his eyes. “Until tomorrow,” he reminded. “A secret meeting,” he suggested. “A rendezvous between just the two of us. We won’t tell anyone else, not even Sarah. Is that all right, Andrew? To keep it our secret?”

  Drew nodded, only half listening, his eyes again on the treasure he had been entrusted with. He laid the crop on top of the fence and, holding the watch carefully in his right hand, ran the thumb of his left slowly along the crease.

  The mark of a bullet, he thought. And tomorrow he would have a secret rendezvous. Just like real soldiers. He envisioned red-clad units standing against the foe. He could almost feel the beat of the tattoo and see the ensigns snapping in the hot, dusty air of India. David, his new friend, had really been there. And he was willing to tell him all about it.

  When Drew looked up again, he realized it was almost fully dark, and the stable yard was empty. The stranger had gone, seeming to have vanished into the shadows.

  David had been right, he thought, shivering again. It was very cold out here. And there was not enough light to thoroughly examine the watch and the scar the bullet had made in its case.

  He would go back to Longford, Drew decided. He could just as easily wait for Wynfield there. That way Sarah wouldn’t be worried if she were looking for him to have his supper.

  He wished he could tell someone about the watch. He wished he could show it to Sarah. Or even better, show it to Wynfield, who would certainly recognize that this was a military watch. He couldn’t do that, of course. He had been sworn to secrecy. A military secret. Just like the rendezvous tomorrow, when David would tell him about India.

  Andrew began walking across the paddock, but before he reached the gate, he was running, the watch carefully clutched in his right hand. The crop Wynfield had given him for Christmas, which he had so excitedly shown to Sarah only yesterday, lay forgotten on the top of the paddock fence.

  Sarah had been expecting some communication from David Osborne since she had come home. She had even consulted Mr. Samuels to find out how much capital would be available when David finally made his demand. And had been frightened by the answer. She had known Justin’s withdrawals were enormous, but she truly hadn’t realized how little remained in the accounts.

  As the days went by without any word from Osborne, however, her sense of fear and dread began to ease. So much so that when Sarah received his note, two weeks after Drew and Justin’s return from London, it was almost a shock to hear from him again. The passage of time had lulled her into a sense of false security, she supposed. That and the fact that Justin was back.

  There was no demand in the note except for a meeting, which was not to take place at Longford, but in the woods that ran along the estate’s western boundary. There was a small clearing on the other side of the brook where, Amelia had once confided, she and David had met in the weeks prior to their elopement.

  Sarah understood why Osborne wouldn’t want to chance an encounter with Justin. However, she wasn’t looking forward to meeting him in such a secluded spot. It didn’t seem as if she could avoid it, however, since he had given her no indication of where he was staying or of how she could reach him to arrange a change. His message assumed she would do what she was told.

  And she would have to, she realized. She had no other choice. She would go and hear his demand, and then she would have to find some way to give him whatever he wanted. She was desperate to get the threat David Osborne represented out of their lives. At least until the next time he ran out of money, she thought bitterly. And maybe by then...

  Her eyes lifted from the letter, focusing on the doorway of the estate office. She remembered Justin standing there, his eyes locked on hers. Maybe by the time Osborne came back for another payment, she would have someone at her side who could put an end to his blackmail.

  Sarah pulled the hood of her woolen cloak closer against her cheek, trying to keep the cold wind from her face and throat. David was very late, and the shadows in the forest around her were lengthening. She had thought about riding out here this afternoon, and now, as the light was beginning to fade, she wished she had.

  Instead, she had put a few items from the kitchen into a wicker basket and told Mrs. Simkins she was going to call on one of her elderly tenants. If the housekeeper thought it strange she should be making a charity call so late in the day, she had thankfully held her tongue.

  Sarah had set the heavy basket on the ground as she waited. She crossed her arms over her chest, her shoulders hunched under her cloak. Her eyes searched the woods around the clearing. She was impatient to get this over. Impatient to find out the worst.

  It had been such a temptation to confide in Justin last night. She had wanted to seek him out and ask for his advice. But again, she couldn’t think of any way to frame an explanation that would not violate her oath.

  So she had come alone to meet a man she didn’t trust. Which made her even more foolish, she supposed, than poor Amelia had been. After all, Sarah understood very clearly the kind of man David Osborne was, and her sister had not.

  “Ah, Sarah. I should have known you’d be punctual.”

  It was almost as if by thinking about him she had conjured David up out of the misty shadows. She turned in the direction of his voice and found him propped against the trunk of an oak, arms akimbo, and his ankles, covered by highly polished boots, gracefully crossed.

  A pose he had probably practiced, she thought cynically. Still, she had to admit he was striking. No wonder h
e had been able to turn Amelia’s head. Handsome and charming to boot. And interested only in himself, she reminded herself.

  “What do you want?” she challenged, keeping her voice as frigid as the darkening January air.

  “You know what I want, Sarah. I made that quite clear, I believe, during our previous meeting. I want my son.”

  “You’re not interested in Andrew. You never have been.”

  “So quick to judge, Sarah. What makes you certain I have no father feeling for the boy?”

  “Perhaps the fact that you’ve had nothing to do with him since he was born,” she said. Her reply was deliberately biting, although she hadn’t raised her voice.

  “I’m set on turning over a new leaf. Correcting my unconscionable behavior. You should applaud that, I would think, since you have been very free with your criticism of my previous relationship with Drew.”

  “You haven’t had a previous relationship,” Sarah said.

  “Now I intend to rectify that,” Osborne countered smoothly.

  “How much?”

  “How much?” Osborne repeated, as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

  “To leave. To leave Drew alone. How much money will it take to make you go away?”

  “Sarah,” David chided, his tone full of shock and dismay, both of which were patently assumed. His eyes were amused. “I should think you’d welcome my desire to get to know my son.”

  “Why should I?” she asked. “You are not the kind of man I want Andrew to know. I wouldn’t want him to know you exist.”

  “I suppose you prefer his hero worship of the earl.”

  “Wynfield? Actually, I much prefer that. Which is convenient, since Drew does worship him.”

  David smiled. “What a shame, then, that he isn’t Andrew’s father. And he isn’t, Sarah. You really should remember that.”

  “I also remember that you, who are, didn’t want anything to do with Drew. Not until you thought of a way it might benefit you to claim to be his father.”

  “Not claim, Sarah,” Osborne said softly. “I am Drew’s father. Surely you don’t intend to deny that?”