Tuesday's Child

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Tuesday's Child Page 4

by Jeanette Baker


  Leonie frowned as she stared at the handsome face of her only son. Why did it always come to this between them? With an exasperated sigh she moved to the stool near his feet and sat down.

  The firelight brought out the hidden blue lights in her black hair. She placed her hand on his knee.

  "Was Miss Davenport in London?" she asked casually.

  James's lips twitched. His mother was rarely so transparent. "Yes, I believe she was."

  Leonie's blue eyes narrowed. "Did you give her my message?"

  "No, Mother, I did not give her your message." His patience was at an end. "I see no purpose in raising the hopes of a woman I'm not remotely interested in."

  "James!" his mother protested, "you're nearly thirty years old. It's time you were married."

  The blue eyes were very cold. "Do you really believe I would allow you to choose my wife for me?"

  "You're not doing very well on your own," she snapped angrily, pulling her hand away. "I'll not see Langley pass on to some stranger because you're too particular to appreciate the qualities of some of the loveliest ladies ever to pass through the doors of Almack's."

  James smiled charmingly and drew his mother's hand back to his knee. "Perhaps the lady I'm looking for hasn't passed through the hallowed doors of that establishment."

  Leonie felt the cold fingers of dread clutch at her heart. Unwillingly her mind formed a picture of silvery hair, fine delicate bones and grey eyes shining with passionate intensity. She wet her lips to quiet the erratic beating of her heart.

  "What kind of lady are you looking for?" she asked quietly.

  Ignoring the ache in the nonexistent part of his leg, James stood up quickly and limped to the grate. Pulling out the poker, he stabbed at the wood, inciting the dying flames to a healthier glow.

  "I'd rather not discuss it," he said, his voice very low.

  The pain in that beloved voice touched her heart. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and she brushed them away, angry with herself for her weakness. Taking a deep breath she decided to have it out between them.

  "Mrs. Bradford is very lovely." She emphasized the Mrs. only slightly, but her point was taken.

  James turned around swiftly, a surprised look on his face.

  "Am I that obvious?"

  "Only to me," Leonie assured him. "There isn't a great deal you can hide from me, my love." She hesitated. "Mr. Bradford may be very much alive."

  "And he also may not," said James softly.

  "James," his mother pleaded. "The woman is an American citizen. Even if she were free, she isn't for you. The obligation a man of your stature has to his country cannot be taken lightly." She lifted a hand to her throbbing temples. "To use your own words, you are honor-bound to find her husband."

  The dark implacable face was so still it could have been carved from granite. "Have I ever given you reason to believe I would not do my duty?"

  They stared at one another, identical blue eyes blazing with emotion. Leonie gave way first. Sighing in defeat, she answered. "No, dear. Never once in your entire life have you disappointed me. I pray you don't start now."

  With a graceful, fluid movement she stood and walked to the door. "Dinner is at eight. The girls and I will understand if you don't feel well enough to join us." She smiled as if nothing of importance had passed between them, and left the room, leaving her son to stare after her retreating figure, a look of resignation on his face.

  Chapter 4

  "I'm terribly sorry about Daniel." Georgiana's animated face warmed with pity. "It must have been dreadful for you so soon after the wedding."

  "It would have been dreadful at any time," Tess replied. "I've known Daniel all my life. We were friends long before we were married."

  They were sitting cozily near the fire in Tess's bedchamber drinking tea, Georgiana in the satin-covered chair, Tess curled up on the Aubusson carpet, her feet tucked under her body. A fever of questions burned in the American girl's mind, but a natural reticence and the two-year separation from her friend held her back.

  Georgiana had no such scruples. "Tell me everything," she demanded. "How is Caroline? We hardly hear from her now that American ports are closed to us." She frowned. "It seems so odd that I'm an aunt and I've never even seen my nephews."

  Tess smiled and pushed her unbound hair away from her face. "Caroline is well, although very busy with the boys. She thought of coming home to England for a visit until the conflict is settled, but her husband is against it. He's very much a patriot, you know."

  Georgiana lifted her head and looked down her nose. "Caroline is a Devereaux," she said haughtily. "The man can't be such a monster as to forbid his wife to see her family. My brother will have something to say about that, I'm sure."

  Losing the struggle to control herself, Tess leaned her head back against the chair and broke into peals of laughter.

  "If you could only hear yourself, Georgie." She wiped her eyes and laughed again. "You sound like such a dreadful snob."

  Reluctantly Georgiana smiled. "I do, don't I? Mama says I'm getting worse every day."

  "Never mind," Tess assured her. "I'm here to make sure you don't become too high and mighty." Her smile faded. "Your brother has been very accommodating. I only hope he can find Daniel."

  "Don't worry, love. If James isn't able to find Daniel, no one can."

  "That's what I'm afraid of," replied Tess.

  Georgiana bit her lip and decided to explain. "James was Wellington's chief intelligence officer until he sold out several months ago. I know he can be terribly fussy and overbearing, but as far as getting things done, there is no one better." She lowered her voice.

  "Remember, my brother was only twenty when our father died. Since then, he's done a wonderful job of taking care of us. James is a very special person and we all depend on him. If he treats you more like a helpless child, than a married woman, you'll understand why."

  The grey eyes widened as she stared at her friend. Could Georgiana be speaking of the same man Tess had met the day before? Was James Devereaux, of the hawkish nose and hard mouth, Georgie's fussy older brother?

  Color rose in her cheeks as she recalled that moment in the chaise when his eyes blazed liked blue sapphires and her very bones dissolved under the heat of his touch.

  Georgiana stared at her oddly. "Tess? Are you listening to me?"

  "Why does he limp?" she asked suddenly.

  "He was wounded in Spain. We thought he would die. I've never seen Mother in such a state." Georgiana's brow cleared and she smiled, showing even white teeth. "Ever since then, she's been trying to marry him off."

  "Why is that?" Tess asked curiously.

  "James is her only son. She had three stillbirths before he was born. Devereauxs have lived here at Langley for four hundred years and the estate is entailed. Without a male heir the lands and title are inherited by the closest relative. When you come to know Mama better, you'll see that she can't bear to fail at anything." She laughed. "James was the answer to her prayers."

  "But she has four healthy daughters," protested Tess.

  Georgiana smiled. "This isn't America, love. A woman cannot inherit an estate. By giving my father a son, Mama assured all of us a home for as long as we like."

  "You can't be serious!" Tess was truly shocked. Accustomed to a world where men and women shared an easy camaraderie, and Nathanial Harrington welcomed each new daughter as lovingly as he would a son, she found it difficult to understand how a proud woman like Georgiana Devereaux could find her way of life tolerable.

  "It isn't as bad as all that," Georgiana reassured her. "Most of the time everything works out quite well." She grinned wickedly. "If James would only cooperate and find himself a wife, Mama would be like a cat at the cream pot."

  "Why isn't he cooperating?" Tess asked casually.

  The tip of Georgiana's pink tongue rested at the corner of her mouth, a habit she reverted to when thinking seriously.

  "I imagine," she said at last, "t
hat James doesn't like being told what to do by anyone, least of all a woman." Her voice sank to a conspiratorial whisper. "And of course, he's not without the company of females, so why does he need a wife."

  "You mean your mother and sisters?"

  "No." Georgiana's blue eyes twinkled. "I'm talking about the outrageously expensive opera dancer he keeps in London."

  Tess's mouth dropped open. "You mean he keeps a mistress?" she stammered.

  "Of course. You can't expect a man to wait until marriage to satisfy his," she floundered for a word that would not appear too indelicate, "instincts," she pronounced at last. Georgiana leaned forward until her dark head was level with the blond one. "Even married men have mistresses," she confided. "I'm sure my father had several."

  Tess was horrified! Although not a Catholic, she was a true daughter of Maryland. Lord Baltimore had intended his colony to be a refuge for those who found themselves in a moral dilemma, caught somewhere between the Church of England and the harsh solemnity of Puritan New England. He had succeeded admirably. The hardships of the New World had created a different mentality among the people who lived their lives on the Chesapeake. Men and women worked together from dawn until dusk, carving a civilization from the flat marshlands that was as warm and gracious as it was strictly principled. The result was a binding of souls, of hearts and futures, that went far beyond the sharing of a bed and a family name. Tess had no sympathy for infidelity. Even now, nine years after her mother's death, she remembered the warm affection between her parents. Nathanial Harrington had been inconsolable for months after his wife's untimely death. Only the demands of the six motherless daughters she left behind, forced him out of his desolation.

  Tess had been brought up to believe that marriage was forever, a bond closer even than that of parent and child. How could Georgie speak of her father's defection so easily?

  She thought of her own marriage. Tess's engagement to Daniel had the hearty approval of both the Harringtons and the Bradfords. The two families shared a border on opposite sides of the bay. Their children had grown up together. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Nathanial Harrington's daughter to marry Daniel Bradford. Now he was gone, snatched away with the arrogant approval of an enemy nation who believed its personal motives justified the beating and kidnapping of a man for no other reason than that he was alone and the odds against him.

  "I'll leave you now, Tess." Georgiana's voice interrupted her thoughts. "You look tired. Ring the bell if you need anything."

  She brushed a soft kiss on her friend's pale cheek. "Mother will send a maid to help you in the morning." She closed the door behind her with a soft click.

  Tess shivered despite the proximity of the grate. She felt troubled and very alone. To win her husband's freedom she must depend upon a man whose heavy-lidded eyes read the secrets of her soul, a dangerous man whose very charm weakened her resolve and stirred the slumbering blood in her veins to fevered heights.

  * * *

  Bright sun pouring through the window woke Tess from a deep sleep. Stretching lazily she realized that someone was in the room with her.

  "I have your morning tea here, ma'am," a voice said. "My lady thought you would like it in your room."

  Tess nodded her head. "Thank you." She looked at the serving girl. "What is your name?"

  "Rosie, m'lady," stammered the girl. "I hope I haven't offended you, but Miss Georgiana told me you preferred to be awakened early."

  "Of course you haven't offended me," Tess assured her in surprise. She couldn't imagine what she had done to bring that look of terror to the girl's face. "I do prefer to wake early. You did exactly the right thing."

  "Oh," the girl breathed gratefully. "I'm so glad. You see, ma'am, I'm not usually an upstairs maid, but there was no one else to send."

  "I'm sure we'll suit each other very well." Tess smiled and Rosie sucked in her breath. She had never seen an American before. This one was lovelier than an angel and kind as well.

  "May I help you dress, m'lady?"

  "I suppose so," said Tess thoughtfully. "I've never had a lady's maid before. What exactly does one do?"

  "The duchess said I should do your hair, help you dress and keep your clothes in order."

  "I see."

  "The duchess is very thorough," said Rosie.

  Tess frowned. "I suppose since she is the duchess, she knows best." She looked at the maid and smiled apologetically. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, Rosie, but I won't need much help. I'm the fifth in a family of six daughters. There isn't anything I can't do for myself. In fact," she confided, "the first time I ever wore a dress made especially for me was after my marriage. Even my wedding dress belonged to Katherine, my older sister."

  Rosie's eyes grew very round. Members of the Quality were usually not so forthright as Miss Georgiana's American friend.

  "I don't mind, ma'am, if you don't," she said loyally.

  "Very well," replied Tess, holding out her hand. "You may call me Tess."

  "Oh, I dare not, Mrs. Bradford." Rosie lifted scandalized eyes to her new mistress's face. "The duchess wouldn't approve."

  "I see." Tess smiled and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Mrs. Bradford will do just as well."

  "Thank you, ma'am, I mean Mrs. Bradford. I'll remember that." Rosie sighed with relief. She pointed to the dressing room. "I saw a lovely white dress hanging in the wardrobe. Would you like to wear that today?"

  "Yes, please. Then, you can help me find my way downstairs."

  Twenty minutes later, Tess entered the breakfast room. The duke, already seated, was reading the morning Post. He stood up the moment he saw her.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Bradford," he said politely.

  "Please," she protested, "call me Tess."

  "Very well." He smiled and lifted the steaming silver lids from the serving dishes. "What do you prefer for breakfast, Tess? Bacon, grilled kidneys, toast?"

  "Toast, please, and black coffee." Seating herself at the table she accepted the plate he held out to her.

  "Why didn't you tell me you were with Wellington?" she asked, startling him with her frankness.

  He grinned. "You were breathing fire and brimstone. It was most entertaining to have you think me cowardly."

  "I never thought that," Tess protested.

  "Didn't you?" Tiny lights flickered in his eyes. He had the most incredible eyelashes for a man.

  "No," she said hastily, ashamed of the direction of her thoughts. "May I have part of the paper?"

  James folded it, quickly hiding the boldly printed headlines announcing Madison's declaration of war. He tucked it underneath his chair.

  "Why don't we talk instead?" he suggested. "I know very little about you."

  "What would you like to know?" The grey eyes looked at him warily.

  "Tell me about your family."

  Tess relaxed. "My family is enormous," she said, biting into her buttered toast. "There are Harringtons all over Virginia and Maryland." She smiled at him from across the table. "We have something in common, you know."

  "What might that be?"

  "An abundance of women in our families." She buttered another piece of toast. "I have five sisters."

  "Good Lord!" he groaned. "Your father has my sympathies."

  Laughter, clear and rich as expensive crystal, escaped her lips. "Papa says when everyone is home, it's worse than a field of chattering magpies." She wiped her mouth with a linen napkin. "To be fair, he's never complained about not having a son."

  "A remarkable man. I understand his business is building ships."

  "Yes," replied Tess. "Are you interested in ships, m'lord?"

  "Actually, I am." He watched a hint of suspicion creep back into her eyes. "You needn't worry," he reassured her. "I have no intention of pilfering the family secrets. Ships are a hobby of mine, nothing more."

  "That was hardly my concern," she said quietly.

  "What was it then?"

  The clear-eyed gaz
e held his without wavering. "Our countries are on the verge of war. I imagine a description of the kind of vessel my father manufactures, as well as the numbers he plans to turn out, might be of some use to your navy."

  Amusement softened the lean planes of his face. "My dear child," he laughed, "you underestimate me. If I wanted to know about the projections of the American shipping industry, you would be the last person I would ask."

  Tess's eyes narrowed. "Now, you underestimate me, m'lord."

  "How is that?" James was enjoying himself. He couldn't remember when he'd enjoyed a breakfast conversation more. Usually he preferred silence and the morning paper to the prattling of his sisters. Tess Bradford was a welcome diversion, beauty, conviction, and a sense of humor, all at half past seven in the morning.

  "I know enough about mathematics and construction to tell you that the scaffolding holding up your south tower won't last another week unless you reinforce it at the base," she explained calmly.

  "Indeed." James's expression was carefully neutral. "Would you mind telling me how you arrived at your conclusion?"

  "Not at all." Tess smiled. "Do you have a quill and paper?"

  He rang the bell. Instantly, Litton appeared at the door. "May I help you, sir?"

  "Yes, please. Mrs. Bradford requires ink, a pen and paper."

  Litton bowed. "I'll only be a moment, m'lord."

  True to his word, the butler returned very shortly with the required materials and handed them to Tess. "Will there be anything else, m'lord?"

  "No, thank you, Litton."

  The man bowed once again and left the room.

  "Now," said James. "Explain yourself."

  Tess picked up the pen and in a few moments had filled the paper with neat mathematical computations and a shockingly accurate reproduction of the tower wall.

  "Here," she said, referring to the lower half of the scaffolding, "this is where your problem lies. I've exaggerated it, of course, but you can see what is likely to happen if something isn't done."

  When, at last, she put down her pen she looked up to find him staring at her.

 

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