Unmasked Heart_A Regency Romance_Challenge of the Soul

by Vanessa Riley

All these years of believing he never measured up to the vicar's expectations. Well maybe that was good. He didn't want to be like him, a man who could hurt others; someone who could hurt Gaia. "Lord, let me not become him. Take away the guilt that has bound me all these years. Help me to forgive. Let me be slow to anger and fast to make amends."

  He wiped rain from his face and didn't care if anyone saw him prostrate in a cemetery. Pride didn't matter; only true repentance.

  "And God, please send word to wherever Rev. St. Landon and Elizabeth ended up, that I forgive them; that I'll raise Mary to know the best of them, even while acknowledging their wrongs."

  Though the sky dumped water, soaking and weighing down his greatcoat, he never felt more liberated. Grace was freeing; offering it, even more so.

  With a final look at the lone elm, the marble headstone, he stood and trudged back to the gate.

  In an odd way, if Gaia's father had claimed her, William's love for her would never have grown. They'd never have danced at a ball or kissed in masks. If, by some miracle, they'd happened upon each other, their roles would have centered on employment. And he wasn't one to chase a servant into a closet, no matter how pretty.

  Their worlds would have been so different. Could love have won, found a way, if she weren't viewed as legitimate, a proper Telfair? He shook his head as his soul overflowed with gratitude for knowing and loving Gaia. Maybe God does work good out of everything for those who love and trust Him.

  From this day forward, he would fully trust God.

  He leapt onto Magnus and headed to Ontredale. Would Gaia see this change? With his heart fully opened, would she have him?

  Maybe Gaia should've had dinner by now. Food might give her the energy to keep awake.

  Though Mrs. Wingate's tempting tray of cookies and scones sat on the table, the smell of cinnamon and sugar turned Gaia's stomach. Her normally-straight posture slouched, and she leaned back on the couch.

  A yawn escaped. Maybe she should go ply the housekeeper for a room.

  Miss Smythen took her arm, "Let's go for a walk. The night air will be good for you."

  Gaia squinted at the billowing window curtains. The musk of rain filtered inside, splashing against the glass. "It's pouring. Not good."

  Responsibilities. She should get up and check on Mary and Timothy. Where was Timothy? With all her might, she pushed from the sofa. Swaying, Gaia headed to the writing desk.

  Timothy's work sat on the marble top. In addition to Ms, he did red Ws and black Os. Red? Timothy must've rummaged through the desk and found the ink. Hopefully, it wasn't too expensive. The neat lines were smeared by her sweaty fingers. The squiggles ran together. "Oh, I ruined it."

  Fanning the letter to push cool air on her neck, she turned to show Timothy's accomplishments. "See, it's ruined."

  A gasp left Miss Smythen, and she fell back a step. "Clever; you found my paper and ink."

  "Paper?" Gaia felt a little like Timothy as she mocked the woman's tones.

  Storming over to her, arms swaying, lips twitching, Miss Smythen tried to yank the note from Gaia's fingers. "Yes; I thought that if I blackmailed William, he'd turn to me."

  "Not a nice thing to do." In a low tone, mimicking the late scoundrel Vicar St. Landon, making sermons, she asked, "Have you thought about the consequences?"

  She grabbed Miss Smythen's face and squished her cheeks. "No, I think not."

  The woman pulled away. She folded her arms across her dark cape. Maybe Miss Smythen should save her outfit for the next Masked Ball.

  Miss Smythen rubbed her jaw. "You unworthy thing. You're poor, from a family of nobodies; how could he think of marrying you?"

  "I am somebody. My Father in Heaven made me somebody. My true father is royalty in Africa. I deserve." Gaia plucked at her skin, raised her hands and twirled, as she'd done under her precious oak. Dizzy, she fell back against the cold marble top of the desk. "If you stopped doing mean things, you'd realize you're someone, too."

  The lady’s voice sounded harsh and screeching, like when Gaia accidentally slid her nails against a slate board, "Africa? Are you a mulatto… a heathen, a horrid brown thing; how could William love you?"

  "Ah, William; he's too angry to love anyone," her own fury had melted with the relaxing tea. Still gripping Timothy's work, Gaia swirled around, as if William held her in a waltz. "But little black me caught his attention; must not be so bad after all."

  Miss Smythen caught her arm. "I think we should take a walk and see whether we can find him."

  "I must run to him again. He's always telling me to run to him." Her pulse raced even more than before. "Lead the way."

  The arched roof of Ontredale showed in the lightning. William kicked Magnus to spur him forward. Maybe Gaia stayed because the weather had become so foul. Oh, let her be there, waiting for him and only him.

  A carriage swung wide near his gelding. A hand, lovely and slim, opened the window and waved.

  Young women, flirting with a stranger on a night like this. Yet the curve of the fingers, the ivory kid glove looked familiar, like the pair that matched the shoe in his pocket. Must be the love in his heart for Gaia. Everything sounded of her voice, and now his heart made him see her in odd places, too.

  With a dip of his hat, he nodded but then motioned for Magnus to trot the final leg to Ontredale.

  It was late, maybe close to nine. Please, let Mrs. Wingate have made Gaia stay. Gaia had to know how he felt and would forgive him.

  No more joking and hiding his love. She needed to know he listened to her. Their engagement must be kept. In fact, they should elope tonight, as he'd originally planned.

  Magnus sprinted the last mile. The gelding muscled down the path and dropped William near the front steps. A groom ran out and grabbed the reins as William patted the horse's hind legs. "Give him an apple. Mighty fine job tonight."

  He nodded to his groom then pounded up the steps and through the open door. The house was quiet.

  Was everyone already in bed? Dropping his greatcoat, hat, and gloves on the table where Albert should be, he pivoted and moved to the drawing room.

  He threw open the doors. Nothing. The room was empty.

  Was Gaia with Mary?

  Taking the treads by twos, he reached the landing. Albert sat in a chair by Mary's room.

  His heart beat a little faster. Something was wrong. Mary!

  William pushed past him and charged into his daughter's bedchamber.

  The little girl slept in her crib. Her chubby little arms curled about her doll. He took a deep breath, but no Gaia sat in the rocking chair. Could she be sleeping?

  He tiptoed out of the room and approached the footman. "Why have you left your post?"

  "Miss Telfair asked me to stay here and let no one in without your permission."

  "Why would she do that?"

  Albert puffed out his chest. "You don't argue too much with that kind of woman. It's better to do what she says. You'll learn that. Should I return to the door, sir?"

  Too much wisdom was packed in Albert's small words. He would dwell on them later, when he kissed Gaia. "If Miss Telfair felt you should be here, stay. Where is she?"

  "The drawing room, sir, with Miss Smythen."

  A pain lanced William's skull at the mention of his evil cousin. He sprinted down the steps. When he got a hold of Deborah, he'd wring her neck. Then he'd show the wench grace.

  He marched into the drawing room, this time all the way inside, but it was as empty as when he first entered Ontredale.

  An ivory piece of paper lay on the floor by the sofa. His heart pounded.

  He picked it up. Only curly letters. No blackmail note. A sigh left him. The thought that the blackmailer could have gotten back into his home burned his gut. Yet, the red Os did look the same color as the villainous letters. Something wasn't making sense.

  Where was Gaia? Where was Deborah?

  A picture of his cousin sitting at this writing desk the night she put belladonna in his tea
entered his head. He pulled open the drawer and found a stack of the ivory paper and an open bottle of blood-red ink. Could Deborah be the blackmailer?

  A tinkle sounded behind him. He looked, but saw nothing out of place.

  His stomach twisted as lightning flashed in the distance.

  The doors of the drawing room opened. He spun, hoping Gaia would enter.

  Mr. Telfair, pale and coughing, slogged inside. "Where are my daughter and my son?"

  "Well, Miss Julia is on a post chaise. It moves a little slower than horseback, but she'll be at Chevron within the hour."

  The man took a deep breath. "Well, that solves one girl's whereabouts, but I'm talking about Gaia. She and Timothy are missing. You've not married yet. She must be kept respectable, and not blemish my name."

  His name? Was that all the man could see, not the pain he'd given to Gaia? William swallowed gall. "Is that the sentiment that led you and my father to sell a man into slavery?"

  Mr. Telfair's thin hands shook, but he pulled them beneath his grey coat. "That business is none of your concern."

  "It is when it makes Gaia cry; when she speaks of reaching for a father's love and missing it. Have you no care for her, other than your precious name?"

  "It was a long time ago," Telfair's voice lowered, "a long time."

  William moved closer to him, the picture of how hurt Gaia was when she met him at her oak reverberating in his head. "When I find Gaia, and if she will still have me, we will elope; so you don't have to worry about her using your name ever again. Pity. She's an excellent girl, and would have made any loving father proud."

  Telfair's frown became more pronounced, his tone almost guttural. "She's the seed of adultery."

  William could never look at his Mary that way, or Gaia. "She's a gift."

  "I understand the lust of propping her up in your bed, but mulatto blood for your heir? Have you thought it through? Now that you know, I'll withdraw my consent, if we can keep things quiet."

  The thought of Gaia welcoming him to her bed, of her bearing their children, filled him, put fire in his bones. "You will do nothing of the sort. I will marry her if she'll have me. Our children could be white as sheet or as dark as my boots. My children will be loved."

  The old man squinted and shook his head. "You don't care she's half-white?"

  He thanked God in his heart that bitterness and prejudice never overtook him, as it did Mr. Telfair. Yet resentment could have, if not for William's prayer-warrior. "She has all my heart. That's what matters."

  Clang. The suit of armor tipped over. Spry young Timothy stood behind it, his blue eyes wide as guineas.

  Mr. Telfair motioned to his son. "Timothy, come here."

  The boy stayed frozen to the wall.

  "Tim—"

  William waved him to be silent. He moved closer to the boy. "My friend, where is your sister?"

  "Tea. Made ill."

  "Tea?" His horrid cousin. "Did a mean lady give it to her?"

  The boy nodded.

  Heart almost in his throat, he put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Did she take Miss Gaia somewhere?"

  Again, Timothy nodded.

  Mr. Telfair coughed, and then came closer to them. "Where is Gaia?"

  "Left," the little man made hand signs, pointing to the door. He whinnied like a stallion, and then moved his fingers like a horse's gait along his coat sleeve.

  The carriage he’d passed… it had to be Gaia. Pulling the boy into his arms, he offered an embrace, but they both trembled. Timothy must know the danger his sister faced.

  "Thank you." He popped up and took his great-uncle's flintlock from the wall and aimed it at the writing desk. "Mr. Telfair, my cousin has taken her and means to do her ill. What will that do to the Telfair name, if she's murdered?"

  Mr. Telfair grimaced and took his son's hand. "I'll get the neighbors to look for her. Gaia must be found."

  "I'll start my servants searching."

  No one would hurt the women he loved anymore. He'd stop Deborah once and for all from threatening Mary and Gaia. William ran from the room to get his bullets.

  "Wake up, Miss Telfair," Miss Smythen shoved at Gaia's arm. "You need to cut in line and dance by the rocks."

  The black walls of the carriage cloaked Gaia in darkness, making her more tired, even as her stomach rumbled.

  "You're too heavy for me to lift. Move!"

  The screechy pitch hurt Gaia's ears.

  Another push to her shoulder made her punch at the air, as when Lydia or Helena awoke her too early. Gaia flailed again, but this time she struck something.

  "Ouch! You hit my nose, you blackamoor," Miss Smythen stood over Gaia, grasping and shaking her. "I need you to do it yourself, just like Elizabeth. Then I can offer William true comfort when we find you."

  Wham!

  Gaia's face stung. She opened her eyes to peer at Miss Smythen's scrunched up mouth, her stare penetrating. "Why did you do that?"

  Miss Smythen grunted and wrung her hands. "Wake up, you… nobody. You dark, poor, nobody."

  "I'm not—" Gaia sat up and heaved her innards onto the floor of the carriage.

  "Yuck!" Miss Smythen shrieked again. She reached into her reticule for a handkerchief, and sponged at her shoes.

  Stomach still rolling, Gaia put a palm to her chest. "Well, you shouldn't try to wake someone up so cruelly. And I am beautiful, wonderfully made, in spite of what you think. My actions show me to be good. What do yours show you to be?"

  "Please get out of my sight," Miss Smythen peered out the window. "A lantern's glow! People are coming. I'm out of time. I won't be able to watch you tumble from the cliff."

  Gaia leaned back on the dimpled leather seat. She sucked in a deep breath of air to soothe her stomach. "Time is so precious. You should do everything in your power to do good."

  Heat swept over her. The contents of her stomach needed to leave. This time she cracked the door, and vomited in the rain. "I think I soiled your carriage."

  Miss Smythen pulled on Gaia's arm. "The belladonna should make you more submissive. I got the measurement right this time."

  With a brisk slap to the lady's fingers, Gaia freed herself. "Why are you so mean?"

  "If William finds you with me, he'll be so angry. What will it take for you to get out of my carriage?" The woman's eyes darted, as if her little brain searched for an idea. "He could be outside, waiting for you."

  Settling back on the seat, Gaia closed her eyes again. "Then shouldn't you go running to him? You love him, don't you?"

  "Well, yes."

  Crossing her arms, Gaia shouted, "Liar! If you loved William, you wouldn't send him mean notes or lie to him. That's not love."

  Screeching like a wounded animal, Miss Smythen shook her fists. "Please leave! Look, there's William now," she pointed outside the compartment, "near the rocks. Save him from the strangers coming."

  "In trouble?" Gaia stepped down from the chaise. "William?"

  The carriage door shut with a bang. Miss Smythen's vehicle moved at a fast pace, leaving Gaia all alone to enjoy the view. That was fine. The woman wasn't good company.

  The soft sea air filled Gaia's lungs. The wind swirled about her, prickling her skin. The scent of salt was as strong as the day Mr. Telfair implied she was a child of rape. She wasn't that, or any of the mean things people had ever said. She was whole, wonderfully made, both black and white. Beautiful, descended from earthly and heavenly royalty. Tugging her William's shawl closer, she let the sway of the fringe guide her to the rocks lining the cliff's edge.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Sermon of Terror

  IT TOOK LONGER than William thought to rouse his grooms and his steward and get a search party engaged, but no one complained, with a hundred pounds as the prize for the man who found Gaia. His pockets lined with shot, he slung the flintlock over his shoulder and headed to the entry. Hopefully, Magnus had recovered enough for the hunt.

  As he flung open the door, there stood Debora
h.

  Dressed in a dark cloak befitting an evil priestess from a London play he'd seen, she pressed inside. "Cousin, I just heard about Miss Telfair. What can I do to help?"

  What was her game? A murderous wave of heat flooded his gut, but he took a deep breath. The wench knew where Gaia was. "Come inside, Deborah," he gripped her arm, tugging her into the drawing room, and closed the doors.

  She squinted at him, and then smoothed her countenance, lifting her long nose in the air. "I know you're angry at me for my naughty trick, but we should forget that. I am here to make amends, now that you need me. I'll wait here and take care of Mary until you return."

  His pulse raced at the mention of his daughter. The babe in Deborah's foul clutches. No wonder Gaia put a guard at Mary's door. His heart swelled for Gaia, but then his blood ran cold. This fiend, who dared to have St. Landon blood, harmed his love, and now was back for his daughter.

  He rubbed his skull. No more games or pretense. Precious time was wasting. "Where is Gaia?" He peppered the chamber of the flintlock without blinking. As he'd done so many times with faceless, nameless enemies, he raised the weapon.

  She backed away, almost crawling to the writing desk.

  Intending to scare her, he took the shot. It missed her hand by inches, sinking into the marble top, the heart of the furnishing.

  Deborah's eyes grew wide. She must know now he wasn't joking.

  The smell of gunpowder filled the room as smoke emanated from the hole in the desk; so familiar, this perfume from the Peninsula. He primed the gun again. "I know you took her, and you're behind the blackmail. How dare you torture me for months, washing my face in this garbage about my wife, never giving me the time to heal?"

  Deborah leveled her shoulders as her finger slipped along the beaded edge of her cape. "Elizabeth was nothing more than a prostitute. I had to make sure you didn't make that kind of mistake again. And now you are engaged to a mulatto." Her green eyes softened, and she took a step to him. "Can't you see she's gone? It's for the best. I didn't mean to hurt you, William. I love you."

  His finger twitched along the barrel. Should he risk another shot? "This is your last chance."