A Rumored Fortune

by Joanna Davidson Politano

  But it was Lucy who slipped onto the balcony. “She’s looking for you, miss.”

  I exhaled. “Thank you. I’ll be in presently.”

  With a powerful look of affection that fluttered my overworked heart, Donegan ducked through the curtain and disappeared. I moved to follow, but Lucy turned to me, eyes glittering with anticipation. “So what happened out here?”

  “Nothing, really.” What a lie.

  I moved past her with a firm step, but the girl caught my arm. “Just a minute, now.” She stepped close and reached behind me, unpinning and twisting my hair back into place. “I have to fix your little bit of ‘nothing.’” Her pinch-lipped smile and twinkling eyes promised to keep my secret, as she had so many other times.

  Impulsively I hugged her. “You’re more than my lady’s maid, you know.”

  “Most lady’s maids are.”

  With a quick squeeze of thanks, I dashed inside and scanned the room for that dreaded figure in red. She presided over a small cluster of women, speaking with graceful gestures and politely controlled smiles.

  “What an unusual rumor. I wonder how it began.” An older woman tapped her fan against her hand and studied Mother skeptically.

  Mother laughed. “You know how rural servants are, with not enough to occupy their minds. Surely one of them misunderstood a simple message sent to the house and assumed the worst.”

  “It’s a wonder she mistook a business trip for a fatal disappearance. I’m certainly glad to hear there was no truth to rumors of his death, though.”

  Accepting a cup of punch as I neared, I stepped up to the women surrounding Mother and touched her arm to ensure she noticed my presence.

  “And here she is now, the vanishing beauty herself.”

  I offered a polite tip of my head. “The night sky is another piece of artwork in this lovely gallery. I merely wished to experience every display of beauty available tonight.”

  “She does find beauty in the most unusual of places. Even our field manager receives her attention at times.” She leveled a dangerously calm look at me. “You’ll excuse us, ladies. I’m so happy we’ve had this chance to enjoy each other’s company.”

  Arm in arm, we stepped away from the crowds and out of earshot of the other guests. “Truly, Mother? Away on business?”

  “It’s as likely as anything else I’ve heard. Besides, it isn’t as if him going off on his own, even in his own house, was not typical.” Bitterness crystalized in her soft voice. “And you are growing like him, disappearing all the time lately, all thanks to that man who has taken over our vineyards. Is that vulgar man to lay siege to my daughter too?”

  The woman with the fan frowned as she walked slowly past us again.

  “It isn’t seemly to speak of Mr. Vance that way.”

  She turned to face me, one gloved hand on the white linen tablecloth. “Nor is it seemly to parade this unseemly indulgence of yours.”

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “You’ve become far too familiar with the man, Tressa. I despise it occurring under my own roof, but it’s a unseemly insult to me for my acquaintances to witness such behavior. If they only knew whom you’d danced with, where he came from.”

  “He’s done nothing wrong.”

  Her look lingered on my face. “As Scripture says, a bad tree cannot bear good fruit, and fruit does not lie. No matter how he dresses, his true nature will be revealed.”

  “The only bad tree I saw tonight was the one who escorted me in.”

  Her nostrils flared. “You will not say a bad word about Andrew Carrington.”

  “How about two or three then?”

  “It will only cause resentment after you’re married.”

  “I can’t marry him, Mother.” I turned my face away from her accusing glare. She feared my marriage to a man who lived on a totally different plane than me. Little did she know how well that description fit Andrew.

  “Then I truly hope you find your father’s fortune.”

  22

  Only when the bad weather comes will it become clear that these guide wires to which I tie my vines are not a constraint but a rescue.

  —Notebook of a viticulturist

  Our stay at the Armitage Estate was cut short the following morning when news of my apparent guilt reached the ears of our host. We were politely excused from our previous plans to stay another night, seeing as we’d need to return home and attend to matters. In other words, Lord Armitage did not wish to have a scandal unravel in his tidy home.

  I had slept restlessly the night before, my mind spinning with confusion and disbelief concerning Donegan and our shared moment on the balcony, and that morning I found myself exceedingly tired as a result. It had been foolish, kissing him only to find temporary comfort from what truly plagued me. Shallow attraction mingled with my broken pride, my smarting wounds, had driven me into that selfish interlude, not a true and genuine affection for the man.

  What was I to do about him now? Part of me wanted nothing more than another balcony encounter, but I could not bear the dishonesty of it. Unless true, deep feelings blossomed in me, I had no right to such kisses, no matter how wonderful the moment.

  I slipped into the morning room to snatch a few bites of food set out for the overnight guests and found Dr. Caine lingering at the sideboard. He sampled the cherry tomatoes and selected a hunk of crusty bread before turning to smile at me. “Good morning, my dear. Did you enjoy the evening’s festivities as much as the open window of the carriage?”

  I smiled. “Nothing could quite compare to an open window.”

  He turned back to the tomatoes, lifting and inspecting one. “Not even a certain man?”

  I glanced away. In the light of day, I could barely believe I’d been so brazen—and with our field manager. “It was nothing, really.” Yet as those flippant words spilled from my mouth, an engulfing heat invaded my body, climbing it and leaving awareness in its wake. Whether I loved or hated Donegan Vance, I could never quite be indifferent to him.

  “With a man like that, it couldn’t possibly be more.” A muted warning light came into his eyes and he watched me, studying my reaction.

  I frowned. “Dr. Caine, I thought you a higher man than one who judges a person by class.”

  “That isn’t what I mean, child. It’s the wanderlust. I see the gleam of it in his eyes, and it’ll only grow stronger with time. His lifeblood is change and freshness in everything, from scenery to work to . . . well, young ladies. He’ll be on to the next before you can blink. You were merely a momentary fancy and he took it.”

  “There’s more to it than that, Dr. Caine. You see, we’ve become friends. He’s been kind to me.”

  He frowned. “A man admittedly in need of funds who has become friendly with an heiress. I suppose he’s also offered to help you find your father’s fortune.”

  “Well, he . . .” My loyal heart rejected Dr. Caine’s words, but as his knowing eyes remained on me, warming patiently through my defenses, I wondered why I hadn’t seen it this way before. His insistence on helping with the search, his ardent and focused attention toward a girl of the elite set he so despised . . . I’d truly been blinded—by a kiss.

  Feelings of utter foolishness pummeled me as I worked to shove aside all memories of the previous night. Once the treasure was discovered and he received what he could of it, he’d pack up and leave without a thought, on to the next town and another girl he’d kiss with the passion that likely came from much practice.

  Pain resurfaced as I recalled the sight of Andrew leaving in the garish light of the carriage lanterns. To be left so abruptly, so casually, had only widened the emptiness that had existed before him, and Donegan Vance’s departure would be no less. This fortune tempted more men to my side than any woman’s charms, and it would be the ruin of my heart before it was even found. I would not allow myself to be so blinded by any of them again.

  Dr. Caine tilted his head with a kindly smile. “Have no fear. He isn’
t the only man who will enter your young life. Just don’t let him be the last.”

  After I donned my traveling clothes, I made my way to the foyer where my cousins already waited. We passed a few meaningless pleasantries that echoed off the gleaming tile floor.

  “I cannot imagine why it is taking so long for them to bring our carriage around.” Mother strode into the entry hall where our little group waited. “I asked a servant to bring some tea for your head, Tressa.”

  “I’ll be fine, Mother.” I rubbed my temples where they ached. “Just a bit tired.”

  “It’s the bowls of dried lavender.” Ellen glided toward me and placed a companionable hand on my back. “Someone is enamored with it and has placed it all over the lower floor.”

  “Perhaps they’re trying to chase us out sooner, for I cannot wait to curl up in the carriage and close my eyes.”

  “Come, let’s settle you in this chair.” Ellen led me by the arm to a white-and-gold chair against the wall and urged me to sit. “I would stay and see to your comfort of course, but we shouldn’t keep the groom holding our carriage any longer. I’m sure yours will be along in a blink, and we’ll all be home by dinnertime.”

  “You would leave your relations waiting while you journey home?” Donegan Vance stepped into the hall, once again dressed in a tunic, dark pants, and tall boots. “Politeness would suggest you offer the first carriage to those who host you in their home, even if it is a sordid old trap on wheels.”

  My head pounded at his curt reprimand, and the stark light of morning beamed onto Donegan from the window, highlighting the blunt contours of his face. In that moment I was even more convinced of my true feelings—or rather, the lack of feelings—for the man before me.

  “I know of no such standard.” Neville’s smooth voice fell from his lips. “Besides, our trap on wheels, as you call it, isn’t fit to carry these ladies who are obviously used to far better.”

  “I’m sure Miss Harlowe would forgo her usual standards of luxury to find relief for her headache. Why not allow Miss Harlowe and her lady’s maid to take your carriage now and prepare the servants for the family’s early arrival? I can accompany them and see to their safety, then you may both ride home in the comfort of the Harlowes’ conveyance.”

  Regret flamed into traces of resentment toward this man who suddenly thought he could dictate what I wanted, what I would do, because of a kiss. What had I been thinking, allowing such liberties last night? For once, Mother had been right.

  Neville spoke again. “You assume she wishes your company, even at the risk of her reputation. Enduring a ride with you—”

  “Might not be entirely objectionable to her.”

  I frowned as my fate was laid out by these two men, neither of whom I cared for at the moment. Did Donegan Vance crave argument every second of the day? I took a bold step forward. “And then again, perhaps it might.”

  This time I steeled myself as Donegan’s penetrating gaze swung to meet mine. His face flamed with surprise, but he said nothing. I dreaded watching his expression melt into hurt at my subtle rejection, but it remained unchanged.

  I took the opportunity to end the debate on travel arrangements as firmly as possible. “I believe your horse can be brought around with a simple request to a groom, Mr. Vance. There’s no need for you to see us off. My cousins shall be leaving presently, and our carriage will not be far behind.”

  Like a gun firing a bullet, these words released Ellen and Neville out the door. I stood for several awkward moments watching the groom assist my cousins into their carriage, wondering what I should say next to Donegan. But what could I say, with Mother hovering over us? When the pair had been loaded along with our lady’s maids, their conveyance jerked forward and started toward home.

  As our carriage crunched around the long circle drive to the door soon after, Donegan leaned close enough for only me to hear his words. “I apologize if my company is now unwelcome. I suppose I was mistaken in offering it.”

  Mother stepped forward and tucked her hand in the crook of my arm, and I turned for one last glance at the man. “We all make mistakes that do not occur to us in the moment.” The meaning of my words seemed to sink into the depths of his expression and harden his features.

  So he would be angry at me now. It could not be helped, I suppose. I bound up the guilt in my heart by recalling what Dr. Caine had said. I was merely one in a long string of women and experiences for him, soon to be forgotten.

  As the footmen piled our luggage onto the carriage, I tried not to think about Father’s notebook in Donegan’s possession and what might become of it now. I should have waited until returning home to speak this way, but I was no actress. I could not pretend to have certain feelings a moment longer than I truly possessed them. Wasn’t it he who endlessly encouraged me to be honest?

  In the carriage, when the lull of a long country drive had put Mother to sleep, I once again met the smiling eyes of Dr. Caine seated across from me.

  “It seems you’ve decided against Mr. Vance after all.”

  I sighed. “I merely had a weak moment, a crack in my common sense, and he was there to fill it.”

  He studied me with idle amusement. “You know, I’m not quite sure you belong at a dreary place like Trevelyan. You’re far too bright and intelligent to be cooped up so. Have you considered going to London? It would give you a chance to excite your imagination.” He offered an understanding smile. “And perhaps forget about certain young men.”

  “I’m afraid going to town does nothing but dull it. Trevelyan excites my imagination more than any other place on earth. I feel as if I’m only half alive when I’m anywhere else.”

  On the journey home, we spoke freely of many things from literature to marriage before falling into peaceful silence, and I couldn’t help but respect this man who was, without effort, endearing himself to me greatly. For a flickering moment, I had the traitorous thought that he should be my father rather than Josiah Harlowe.

  “I am grateful for your words of wisdom today, Dr. Caine. I hope you don’t mind me saying it, but you’ve become like a guardian to me, in the absence of . . .”

  His gentle face softened. “I only wish I could be your true father. What a blessing of a daughter you would be.”

  These words brought an unexpected prayer of thanks to my heart. Even though God had not yet revealed the treasure to me, he was caring for me in the background of my daily life. I lifted a smile to the man and wondered if, after everything, I’d end up with a father after all.

  “I wanted you to know that if you are ever in need of anything, I am at your service. Every girl needs a protector in whom she can trust, and you may freely ask of me anything you need.”

  I tucked his words into a sacred place in my mind, storing them there to be taken out and used in a dark time that likely lay ahead. “Thank you for the great kindness you’ve shown me, Dr. Caine. You are a life raft in stormy waters.”

  His weathered face crinkled into a pleasant smile and we slipped into silence. I rested my chin on my arm in the open window to watch the newly watered grass fly by, studying the few lone cottages and ruins along the way. We turned and the scenery became vast expanses of water on the left beyond the steep dropoff as we climbed a hill along a coastal road.

  As my tired mind was lulled into a sleepy stupor, a slight tremor in the carriage disturbed my peace. Water roared far below us as we continued to climb the coastal road. Then the vehicle shuddered in earnest and panic jolted me upright. Mother awoke and braced herself against the side of the carriage as it jerked and banged over rocks and veered toward each side of the road in turns.

  Wood splintered underneath us and the horses surged forward with grunts and whinnies as our damaged vehicle wobbled perilously toward either edge of the road. I couldn’t even scream. Hot and cold chased through my body. I clung to the window, willing the carriage to veer right, away from the steep drop. It jerked hard to the left, discharging something heavy from the roof
. I watched with horror as Mother’s elegant blue steamer trunk hurtled over the cliff, banging down the rocks.

  I clung harder. Dizziness overtook my senses.

  With two final jerks that gave me far too clear a view of the water below, the carriage lurched right and crashed into the side of the rocky hill. Horses bucked with a clink of reins against the dead weight behind them, but to no avail. We were stuck.

  I forced breath in and out and closed my eyes, hand to my fluttering heart. The overhead clunk signaled the dismount of our driver. After a clatter and grumble, his round face appeared in the window beside Mother. “My lady, I’m afraid we cannot go on. The wheel has dislodged and the impact of hitting the road has broken the axle.”

  “Not go on?” Her breathless voice was thin with panic. “We’re in the middle of the road! What shall we do, jump into the water?”

  “We’re a short piece from a little wayside inn, if it remains in business. We’ll have to delay there while we see about repairing the carriage. The inn’s a quarter of a mile or so.”

  “And what will become of our things still strapped to the carriage?”

  His dirt-smeared face wrinkled into a frown. “You might have to go on without them. We cannot risk being struck by another carriage on this road, or we’ll be—”

  “Mother, it’ll be an adventure.” I clutched her hand and shot a warning glare at the driver to discontinue his dire projection. “We’ll have our second night away from home just as you wished, in a charming seaside inn. It’ll be lovely, and then we’ll return home well rested.”

  Hopefully they would merely hand us a note for our stay here and we could add it to our growing debt when we returned home.

  Mother straightened. “I shall remain here with my things. Who knows what sort of bandits lay about these parts.”

  I dared not glance down at the raging waters below or imagine what would become of her if another carriage thundered around that corner before we returned. “It isn’t raining this time, and a walk will do you good.”