Wonderful

by Cheryl Holt

  She was crying, begging for assistance, her pulse booming in her ears. There was banging and shouting too, that seemed to emanate from out in the hall, and the noises matched the rhythm of her thundering heart.

  Suddenly, there was a loud hammering and a crash and…

  Mr. Rafferty was yanked away so swiftly and so violently he might never have been there. Evangeline was dazed, and she slid to the floor. She wanted to stand, but couldn’t find her balance.

  The melee was so confusing and occurring so fast. She couldn’t figure out what had transpired or who had arrived. Eventually, she was raised to her feet, and as she pushed her hair out of her eyes, she was staring up at Lord Run.

  You came for me! You came for me!

  The joyful sentence rang through her mind, and she yearned to hurl herself into his arms, to gush over how glad she was to see him, to ask how he’d discovered where she was, but she was too stunned.

  “Evangeline, are you all right? Tell me he didn’t hurt you.”

  Before she could utter a word, Bryce Blair was there, and he shoved Lord Run aside.

  “Evangeline?” he said more gently, and he retrieved her goddess statue from his pocket.

  She frowned, not understanding why he had it, how he’d gotten it. Then…he said the strangest thing.

  “Anne—you kept it all these years.”

  “What?” she forced out.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Anne, and I finally found you. You’re home now. You’re safe.”

  “Anne…?” she murmured.

  She peered up at him, and a wave of anguished memories flooded in. It had been such a frightening day, and she’d been so tiny she could barely walk. She’d gazed up into one face. She remembered one face.

  Her older brother—had Bryce been his name?—telling her to never lose the statue, telling her he’d find her someday and know who she was because she had it.

  “Bryce?” she tentatively asked, sounding very young and not like herself at all.

  “Yes, Anne. It’s me. Bryce.”

  Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted dead away.

  * * * *

  “Hello, Aaron. Thank you for being prompt.”

  Aaron nodded at Claudia, the woman who might have been his mother-in-law. He supposed he should have been suffering a flicker of emotion—regret, remorse—but all he could think was that he’d dodged a bullet.

  Priscilla was seated in a chair in the corner, but she didn’t greet him or display any sign that she’d seen him.

  “Have you talked to Priscilla?” he inquired.

  “Briefly,” Claudia replied. “She mentioned you had another quarrel.”

  “A quarrel? Is that how she described it?”

  “Yes, and as I’ve previously explained, you mustn’t let a spat interfere with your wedding plans. All couples fight. It’s practically expected, and you’ve both been under a lot of pressure.”

  “I’m not under any pressure. In fact, I’ve never felt better.” He spun to Priscilla. “Tell your mother what you did.”

  “I did nothing,” Priscilla retorted, “and I have no idea why you constantly snipe at me.”

  “That’s what you claim?” Aaron scolded. “You did nothing?”

  Priscilla turned to Claudia. “Mother, how many times is he allowed to berate me? Surely there’s a limit.”

  Claudia studied Priscilla, Aaron, Priscilla again. Apparently, Aaron’s angry countenance unnerved her for she said, “Priscilla, go to your room. I’d like to meet with Aaron alone.”

  “No,” Aaron protested. “I want her to stay. She has to hear this.”

  Claudia sighed. “All right. What is it?”

  “Yesterday, she visited while I was out. It was raining, and she asked the butler if she could wait for me. She was permitted to dawdle in a front parlor.”

  “And…?”

  “I came in shortly after and discovered she’d stolen an important piece of correspondence that had been addressed to me. She was burning it in the fire.”

  “You retrieved it,” Priscilla snottily said. “You’re acting as if it was destroyed, but it was fine. I don’t know why you’re raising such a fuss.”

  Claudia scowled at Priscilla. “You tried to burn his correspondence?”

  Priscilla was mulishly aggrieved, debating her response, and finally admitted, “It was a note from that actress who’d been his guest at Fox Run. That Miss Bernard? She was begging him to reestablish his affair with Miss Etherton!”

  Claudia frowned at Aaron. “Is this true? Have you taken up with Miss Etherton again? How long were you parted from her? Two days? Three? You couldn’t have delayed until after the wedding? Is your passion for her so unwavering that you would shame Priscilla like this?”

  Aaron rippled with disgust. “Is that all you have to say, Claudia? Your daughter interfered in my private business, and she sits here boasting about it.”

  Claudia countered with, “You haven’t answered my question. Are you involved with Miss Etherton again?”

  “I never stopped being involved with her, and if I hadn’t stumbled on your daughter with that letter, Miss Etherton would have come to great harm.”

  Claudia bit down whatever horrid remark she was considering, but Priscilla was too stupid to keep her mouth shut.

  “I wish you’d never seen that letter. I wish she had been harmed.”

  A deadly silence settled in, with Aaron staring at Claudia, and Priscilla fidgeting, realizing she’d crossed the line.

  “I’m crying off, Claudia,” Aaron announced, “and I won’t change my mind. You and my father can’t dissuade me.”

  “I understand,” Claudia said, as Priscilla leapt to her feet and shrieked, “He can’t cry off, can he, Mother?”

  Claudia spoke to Aaron. “I warned you about what would happen. I’ll sue to recoup my money, and I’ll drag your name—and Miss Etherton’s—through the mud. After I’m finished, there won’t be a family or venue that will allow you in the door.” She sneered as if she’d bested him in every way that counted. “Is that the future you envision with her?”

  “Do what you will, Claudia. I don’t care. As to Miss Etherton, she and I will retire to Fox Run, and I don’t anticipate our ever returning to the city. However you smear us, it will have no effect.”

  On uttering the statement, Aaron tamped down a shiver of dread, feeling extremely anxious over what Evangeline’s opinion might be.

  After the imbroglio the previous evening, he hadn’t had a chance to confer with her. Bryce had carried her out of the despicable place, leaving Aaron behind to clean up the mess. Since then, matters had been so hectic he hadn’t had an opportunity to call on Bryce to see how she was faring.

  It had taken all night to wade through the disaster at the club. Mr. Rafferty was in jail, charged with pandering and numerous other crimes. The upstairs of the establishment was a brothel, and Aaron had stumbled on a dozen females like Evangeline who’d come to London, hoping to work as an actress or a singer, but who’d been kidnapped by Rafferty and forced into prostitution.

  Aaron had occasionally heard such stories floating around the city, but he’d never actually met anyone who’d participated or been ruined in such a scheme. Every time he thought of Evangeline and what might have happened if he and Bryce hadn’t arrived, he shuddered with alarm.

  The blasted woman couldn’t be left to her own devices. She had to wed him. He wouldn’t consider any other ending.

  “You can’t stay at Fox Run forever,” Claudia said. “How will you ever visit London? You might be able to survive the shame of it, but Miss Etherton never will.”

  “Your threats are pointless, Claudia, and as to the money we owe, I suggest you discuss the issue with my father.”

  “Oh, I definitely will.”

  “For I will be happy to defend myself in a court of law. I can easily prove that none of the funds were paid to me and none of them were spent by me. I don’t owe you a single fa
rthing.”

  “We paid it to your father with the intent that Priscilla would be a countess. If you’re refusing to proceed, we’ve been significantly damaged, so you bear an enormous amount of the blame.”

  “Well, Claudia, as I told my father, and I’m delighted to tell you. He is a bachelor and an earl. He can avoid legal difficulty by marrying Priscilla himself. There’s no reason he can’t. She can be a countess immediately; she wouldn’t have to wait.”

  It took a moment for the import of Aaron’s idea to sink in, and when it did, Priscilla raged, “Marry that horrid old sot? You’re joking! I absolutely won’t.”

  “Goodbye,” Aaron said to Claudia, and as he walked out, she was staring at Priscilla, a shrewd, calculating gleam in her eye.

  If Aaron had been a betting man, he’d wager Priscilla would be wed to his father very soon.

  He grinned and kept on.

  * * * *

  “But she’s all right, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she’s fine. A bit shaken, but fine.”

  Bryce glared at Florella. She was trying to bluster her way in, but he was firmly blocking the door.

  He lived in a suite of rented rooms. Since he was a bachelor who never entertained, he didn’t need a grand residence. She lived in a lovely house—that he provided—but she always complained about it. Perhaps it was time for her to move on to the rich fellow she liked to brag she would eventually find.

  “I wasn’t in league with Rafferty, Bryce. You must know that.”

  “I can’t decide what to think, except you should head home. We’ll talk later.”

  “Promise you’ll apologize to Evangeline for me.”

  “Her name isn’t Evangeline. It’s Anne.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Just go away.”

  She couldn’t oblige him though. “I thought it would be a great place for her to sing. She’d have earned a lot of money and built her prestige very quickly.”

  “She’s new to London, which means she’s a lamb among the wolves. You left her there alone with Rafferty.”

  “Only for an hour! How could I guess he’d kidnap her?”

  “Don’t claim you haven’t heard the rumors about him, for I’ll never believe you.”

  “Well, of course there have been rumors, but how would I know they were true?”

  There was no need to respond to such a ridiculous comment. He simply glowered until her cheeks flushed with shame, making it even more difficult to discern guilt or innocence.

  “Go home, Florella.”

  “I’m afraid about Aaron. Is he angry with me?”

  “You can ask him yourself next time you see him, but as for me, your house will be put up for rent. You should probably start packing.”

  “So we’re through? Because of Rafferty? I had naught to do with it!”

  “You can try to convince me tomorrow. Today, I can’t listen to you.”

  He closed the door in her face and spun the key in the lock. Then he went back up the stairs to his sitting room. Anne—Evangeline—was coming out of his bedchamber. She’d been taking a nap, exhaustion seeming to be her constant state.

  “Who was at the door?” she inquired.

  “Florella.”

  “She didn’t stay?”

  “She was busy,” he lied. “She just popped by to check on you.”

  He didn’t have the heart to share his suspicions and maybe he was wrong. Maybe it had merely been a mistake on Florella’s part to leave her naïve friend with Rafferty. Or maybe she’d been counting on a reward from Rafferty for delivering such a pretty creature.

  Florella had worked frantically to get Bryce to locate Evangeline, so she might not have been Rafferty’s partner. Or Rafferty might have double-crossed her and refused to pay up, so Florella had turned on him. With Florella, it was hard to guess.

  “I have to write to Rose and Amelia,” Evangeline said.

  “I met Miss Hubbard. Did I mention that?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I liked her very much. She had Lucas Drake wrapped around her little finger. By the end, he didn’t know up from down.”

  “I can’t picture her as a vixen. She was always plain, ordinary Amelia to me.”

  “Trust me, that woman had flirtation skills you couldn’t imagine. Lucas didn’t stand a chance.”

  “I need to tell her and Rose where I am—if I can get a letter to them. I kept writing to them when I was at Fox Run, but I never received a reply.”

  “Very mysterious,” he mused. “You don’t suppose the servants stole them, do you?”

  “Stole them? Why would they?”

  “There might have been a thief among them who assumed you were sending secrets or money.”

  “The prospect never occurred to me, but it would make sense. Rose and Amelia weren’t the type to ignore a letter.”

  “Will they be surprised you’re in London?”

  “Extremely surprised. They were expecting by now that I was glumly wed to Vicar Bosworth.”

  “Perish the thought! If there is one silver lining to this debacle, it’s that you were smart enough to skedaddle out of that engagement.”

  “Yes, I’d have been an awful vicar’s wife.”

  “I wouldn’t condemn any poor girl to being Iggy Bosworth’s bride.”

  Bryce gave a mock shudder that made her laugh, and at the timbre in her voice, he was taken aback. From the moment they’d arrived home, she’d been stirring long-buried memories he’d forgotten.

  He’d been five when his mother had left, and he had fleeting visions of her that he kept tucked away in his mind as if they were precious treasures locked in a box.

  When he’d last seen her, she’d probably been the age Evangeline currently was—twenty-five—and as he studied Evangeline, it seemed as if his mother had waltzed into the room. They could have been twins.

  “Tell me more about our parents,” she said as she snuggled herself on his sofa.

  “Mother was an actress and singer and, obviously, you inherited her talent.”

  “I’m happy to hear it.”

  “I’ve often wondered if she wasn’t quite renowned.”

  “Why do you think she was?”

  “It just seems to be true.”

  “Have you ever checked old newspapers or asked about her at the theaters.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “I was afraid.”

  “Of what you’d learn?”

  “No.” He chuckled and shook his head. “This will sound silly.”

  “Just say it.”

  “That terrible day, I was warned not to boast about who I was. I carried that worry inside me—that no one should know. It’s pathetic to still be rattled by it all these years later.”

  “It was a traumatic experience for you.”

  “Very traumatic.”

  “Why would my name have been changed but yours wasn’t?”

  “I have no idea.”

  She smiled his mother’s smile. “But no brigand from your past ever came to haunt you?”

  “No. I haven’t encountered a single brigand.”

  “Who was our father? Do you remember him?”

  “He was very dashing, very charming. I don’t believe he lived with us though. He’d show up out of the blue and it was always exciting.”

  “Why was he away so much? Might he have been a soldier or a sailor?”

  “He had two very fancy pistols on a belt. When he arrived, he would lock them in a cabinet in mother’s bedchamber.”

  “Where was our home?”

  “Here in London, but I don’t recall the area.”

  “And our brothers? You’ve searched for them?”

  “Not really. There were no clues to go on. Don’t forget, I was five when it happened.”

  “I want to find them,” she vehemently said.

  “I definitely agree, but you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

  �
�I won’t, but we have to try. For our mother maybe. I feel as if she’s watching us. Don’t you?”

  He flushed, deeming it a ludicrous admission. “Yes, it appears she’s been lurking about recently.”

  “If it takes my whole life, I have to locate them. I’ve always been alone, and I hate to imagine them being alone too.”

  “There’s an attorney who used to come to my school to check on me. I don’t think I was supposed to realize he was visiting, but another boy eavesdropped when he was in the dean’s office. He was a portly old fellow named Thumberton.”

  “I know him! He was Miss Peabody’s solicitor.”

  “We should contact him and schedule a meeting.”

  “He’s very crafty,” she said. “He might have been sworn to secrecy.”

  “We’ll wear him down.” Bryce glowered—as if he could be fierce and threatening. “We’ll make him talk.”

  She laughed again, and he thought he might jest with her constantly merely so she’d keep laughing his mother’s laugh.

  Someone banged the knocker down on the street below. He employed a cook and two footmen, but they didn’t live in, so he had no one to greet callers. He went down himself.

  As he pulled the door open, he was irked to see Aaron, but then he’d been expecting Aaron all day. Bryce just hadn’t determined how he would handle his friend.

  They’d known each other a long time, but all of a sudden, Bryce had a family, that being his sister. His relationship with her trumped everything.

  “I’m sorry it took so long to arrive,” Aaron said. “The entire mess at Rafferty’s club was a boondoggle.”

  “I received your message. He’s in jail?”

  “Yes, and the club is closed. I’m investigating to learn the identities of the investors, and when I do, they’ll be persuaded not to start it up again. I intend to have Rafferty transported. He shouldn’t be allowed to hang around London and commit further mischief.”

  “My feeling exactly.”

  Aaron moved as if to come inside, but Bryce blocked him as he had Florella.

  Aaron frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think you should go away.”