by Meara Platt
The senior Mr. Twombly would advise him to do so. That beady-eyed fellow with thin lips and an angular face perched atop a long, thin neck and rotund body reminded Douglas of a vulture. However, much as Douglas disliked him, he was an adept overseer of the Hawke family fortune.
In any event, Mr. Twombly was not to blame for the deception. He’d merely followed his father’s orders. That his father, and even his mother, had lied to him all these years was what he found intolerable.
Could he now lie to Julia and Charlie with similar ease?
“He’s eager to meet you, Uncle Douglas.”
“What?”
“King Cadeyrn,” Charlie said with obvious exasperation.
Douglas sat up with a growl, and rolling the blanket around his body, planted his feet on the cold floor. For propriety’s sake, he’d tried on several of the vicar’s nightshirts before climbing into bed last night, but they were all too small. Sleeping in his tailored clothes was out of the question, so he’d finally decided to sleep as he always did – naked. “Where are my trousers?”
The boy giggled. “I don’t know.”
“Ah, over there.” He crossed the room and scooped up the wilted garments he’d discarded before retiring. Lord, he was in desperate need of his valet.
“Where is King Cadeyrn now?” he asked the boy while dressing. “In the house or in the garden?”
“Garden.”
“Does he ever come into the house?”
“Sometimes, but don’t tell Julia. She doesn’t like King Cadeyrn, though he likes her. He likes her an awful lot. Oh, look! The rain has let up.”
Douglas glanced out the window in time to watch the first rays of sunlight break through the clouds. “Where is Julia now?”
“Tidying up the church for the new vicar. He’s coming soon, but we’re not sure when. She’s already made breakfast and left it warming by the fire.”
His stomach rumbled.
Charlie laughed. “I’m hungry, too.”
“Then we mustn’t let it grow cold,” he said with a wink.
“But we can’t start without Julia. It wouldn’t be right, would it Uncle Douglas?”
“I suppose not.” Particularly since she had done all the work while he lazed about plotting to deceive her. No, he was just being cautious. The girl held sway over Charlie. Perhaps, she possessed the unnatural power to bend him to her will, to bend all Eastbourne men to her will as she had managed last night. Why else would he have kissed her?
No, he couldn’t reveal Charlie’s true birthright yet.
Not until he was certain it was safe to do so.
“The church is just over the stone fence. There’s a comfortable chair in the small office behind the nave that Julia’s dusting off for the new vicar. She said something about piling wood by the fireplace so he stays warm while writing his sermons, just like Vicar Marsden used to do. But she can’t light a fire in there yet because the chimney hasn’t been cleaned in years.”
“Does she plan to take on that chore, too?” He tried to imagine Julia shimmying up the flue to scrub the sooty bricks. The girl, he realized, took good care of everything around here, especially the boy. He was neatly groomed, well fed and friendly – all signs that he hadn’t been neglected.
Charlie laughed. “Perhaps.”
But Julia’s diligence puzzled him. Why had she shouldered the burden all these years when she could have spent the blackmail blunt to hire servants or move to finer quarters? The girl’s actions made no sense and until he understood them, he had no choice but to consider her a threat. “Give me a moment, Charlie. I’ll fetch her.”
*
Julia noticed the loose shutter near the front of the church and let out a sigh. Yet another item to repair before the next storm came along! There was so much to do, so much to worry about, including Lord Eastbourne who was at the top of her long list of troubles.
She didn’t know what to do about him. He meant to take Charlie from her and she didn’t know how to stop him. Also, there was her growing concern over the boy. Even if she did manage by some miracle to retain custody of him, could she keep him safe? That bluebell garden… no! King Cadeyrn and his faerie court existed only in his young imagination.
Still, odd things had been happening lately. How did one explain Lord Eastbourne’s actions last night? He’d kissed her and yet, he hadn’t.
The softest kiss.
His lips, yet not his.
He’d mentioned music and laughter, beautiful lights shining outside the sitting room window.
She shook her head and sighed again. Eastbourne men were cads and liars, never to be trusted. Obviously, Eastbourne had heard Charlie’s stories, seen those pictures in Charlie’s bedroom and used them to gain advantage over her.
If so, why had he backed away after that divine kiss, appearing more alarmed and confused by it than she?
“An act, a vile ploy to keep me off balance,” Julia grumbled, returning her attention to the loose shutter. She had just finished securing it when she noticed a portly gentleman tramping along the muddy path toward her. “Mr. Barrow? Is that you?”
Homer Barrow seemed startled at first, but quickly recovered his composure and responded with a jovial chuckle. “Good morning, Miss Marsden. Forgive the trespass.”
“Are you looking for Lord Eastbourne? You’re the one who led him here, aren’t you?” Her disappointment quickly turned to anger, first at him, then at herself for being so easily duped. Though she hardly knew Mr. Barrow, he’d seemed so kind and genuinely concerned for Charlie when they’d first met. Now, she understood he had simply been tending to the earl’s business.
A blush ran up his face and reddened the tips of his ears. “I’m awfully sorry for the deception. Truly, I took no pleasure in it.”
“But you deceived us nonetheless.”
“I can only say that I believed it was for the best. Lord Eastbourne is an honorable man.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Mr. Barrow frowned. “Has he behaved badly toward ye or the boy, Miss Marsden?”
“He has behaved as any gentleman would,” she said without intending it as a compliment.
Indeed, the question seemed ridiculous in view of the added turmoil the earl’s presence had brought to her life. Her affairs were in shambles. She hadn’t so much as pocket change to her name, and was about to lose her home. Most shattering of all, she was about to lose Charlie to the arrogant man and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Whether or not the earl was rude while stealing everything from her, while ripping her heart to shreds, seemed of little consequence.
“I purchased some supplies in town, seein’ as ye had unexpected company last night. I’m sure his lordship will approve. I’ll unload them from my saddle bags as soon as I help to bring in more firewood.”
“Not necessary, Mr. Barrow. Lord Eastbourne took care of that chore last night. Come into the kitchen. You may as well join us for breakfast. I’ve made poached eggs and sausages.”
“That’s a gracious lass,” he murmured as they walked back to the vicarage, “more gracious than I deserve.”
“I know.” But her father did not approve of turning away visitors, whether friend or foe – and she hoped that a little kindness on her part might turn the obviously shamefaced Mr. Barrow from the latter to the former. She would need allies when dealing with the Eastbourne family.
“How did ye manage to put the earl to work?”
Julia shrugged. “I didn’t. He simply offered to pitch in.”
“Remarkable.”
She understood Mr. Barrow’s meaning. Few noblemen would have been so cooperative. “His willingness to assist in a few paltry chores means nothing. I’d gladly trade his cooperation for the promise of keeping Charlie.”
She turned away before giving in to frustration, before saying or doing something she would regret. She needed to keep her wits about her at all times.
Hurrying into the kitchen, she paused to wipe mu
d from her boots, then noticed Charlie seated at the table which she’d earlier set for breakfast. “Sweetling, we have another guest.”
Charlie was so intent on finishing the painting before him – probably drawn for his uncle, she noted with some resentment – that it took him a moment to glance up. “Mr. Barrow!”
Homer Barrow beamed broadly from the doorway. “Lad, it’s good to see ye!”
“Same here!” The boy let out a gleeful yelp. “When did you arrive?”
“Yesterday. But I couldn’t make it up the hill before the storm broke.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Always,” he said with a mirthful chuckle. “What do ye have there? A drawing?”
“This one is of the faerie king and his army at Friar’s Crag defeating demons sent by the Dragon Lords. It’s a very special one for Uncle Douglas. He’s an earl and lives in a castle and he’s promised to let me visit him.”
Julia once more fought off anger and frustration. She’d taken care of the boy all of his life, washed and dressed him, fed, played and read with him. She’d scrimped to buy his paints and brushes, spent hours fashioning squares of wood to use as his canvas. She’d done everything for him while his uncle had ignored him until yesterday. She wasn’t jealous, just terribly, terribly disappointed that the boy could be so easily won over. “Where is Lord Eastbourne? Still asleep?”
“No, he’s washing up. He wanted to look especially nice for–”
“Good morning,” Lord Eastbourne said, walking into the small room and taking instant command of it. He was freshly shaven – obviously having found her father’s shaving brush and blade – and his clothes were not the least bit wrinkled. “Miss Marsden. Mr. Barrow.”
“Good morning, my lord,” Julia said, stifling her dismay.
Charlie suddenly clasped his hands together and squeezed his eyes firmly shut. “I’m going to say a special prayer because we have two visitors today and that’s the most we’ve had in a very long time. Won’t you join me, Uncle Douglas?”
He arched an eyebrow in obvious surprise before clearing his throat. “Er, certainly.”
Julia closed her eyes too, but not to give thanks for their unwelcome guests. Instead, she wished very hard for Lord Eastbourne’s disappearance. Oh, her father would never approve, but wishing the earl gone from their lives was not nearly as bad as wishing him trapped in a speeding coach as it hurtled off a desolate cliff, was it?
The boy opened his eyes and giggled.
Julia opened hers and smiled back.
“I’m so happy, Julia. I like company.”
“I know, my little love. You’ve been lonely for a very long time.”
He paused thoughtfully, his grin slipping as he said, “So have you.”
*
“Lud, m’lord! I thought Miss Marsden did ye in! Didn’t seem the sort, but she loves that boy something fierce and there’s no tellin’ what a woman in that state might do. I woke up early this morning and was calmly sipping my coffee when the innkeeper informed me that ye hadn’t returned to the inn. I hastily gathered some supplies and nipped around here. Then don’t ye know, I encounter Miss Marsden hammering nails into a shutter, pounding ’em with a vengeance as though each was yer head. Calm as ye please, she tells me ye’re here and invites me to breakfast.”
Douglas handed Homer an armload of wood. “I’ll carry the rest,” he insisted, noting the old man was quite winded from his trudge up the hill.
“Thank ye, m’lord. I’m not as spry as I used to be.”
“Nor am I,” Douglas said with a grimace. Vicar Marsden’s bed had been too small to accommodate his height and the broadness of his shoulders. The coarse linens and night chill hadn’t helped either, though in truth he was too troubled to sleep comfortably anywhere, even back at Eastbourne beneath his satin sheets.
Damn, everything had seemed so simple yesterday. He’d come to Borrowdale to claim the lost boy, punish Julia Marsden for her deception, and proceed on his merry way with the boy firmly under his protection.
Yesterday, he’d been morally and lawfully in the right.
Today, he was no longer certain what was right.
Meeting Julia and the boy had changed everything.
“Something wrong, m’lord?”
The sound of Homer’s gruff voice startled him out of his thoughts. “There’s a bite to the wind today,” he said, glancing up at the sky.
“Aye, winter’s fast approaching and the boy’s too frail to travel in cold weather. If ye’re going to take him and the girl back to Eastbourne, ’tis best to do it soon.”
Douglas frowned. Taking along a blackmailer would unnecessarily complicate matters. How could he trust Julia Marsden under his roof?
His expression must have revealed his thoughts because Homer suddenly squinted his eyes and pierced him with a sharp gaze. “Ye can’t seriously mean to leave the girl behind. Any fool can see that she takes better care of the boy than any ten nursemaids ever could, no matter how well ye pay ’em.”
“Are you calling me a fool, Mr. Barrow?” He didn’t have patience for the Bow Street runner’s forthright jargon just now.
“Of course not, m’lord. But ye’re about to make a foolish decision–”
“Enough!”
“But–”
“I’ll not warn you again, Mr. Barrow!”
“As ye wish, m’lord,” Homer grumbled, muttering something about cobble-headed chuffs and their lack of sense.
Another fierce glance quelled Homer’s grumbling just as Douglas expected it would. After all, there were serious consequences to crossing a nobleman, particularly one as powerful as the Earl of Eastbourne – which he was for the moment.
The man had been engaged to find Julia, not to turn fuss and feathers over her. “I haven’t made any decision about the girl. Until I do, I forbid you to interfere in any manner.”
“Wouldn’t think of it, m’lord.”
It rankled Douglas that the runner doubted his wisdom. He understood the danger in separating Julia from the boy. No matter what she’d done, or what he believed she’d done, the girl was the only family Charlie had ever known. He loved her, was very attached to her, just as Homer had indicated in his report. The sickly boy, in all likelihood, would have died years ago if not for Julia’s nurturing.
But she had her faults and he had very little time to assess their seriousness.
He stepped into the kitchen, determined to keep his eyes and ears open to what the day would bring. He’d reviewed Homer’s report several times before commencing his journey, listened to his cold, proud mother and her poisoned words. Now it was time to draw his own conclusions. “Have my bags sent up here today. I’ve decided to stay the week.”
“M’lord?”
“You heard me.”
“But to stay alone with the girl–”
“As I did last night? The damage, if any, has already been done. Have your bags sent here as well. You shall serve as her chaperon.”
*
Julia watched silently as the two men entered the kitchen and set down more firewood beside the hearth. She’d just finished clearing away the last of the poached eggs and currant buns Mr. Gordimer had made for her yesterday. Those buns would have lasted the entire week if she’d kept them to herself, but of course, Charlie wasn’t about to let her deprive their company.
On the other hand, the supplies Mr. Barrow had brought in his saddle bags – meat, flour, butter, apples and more paints for Charlie, were quite generous and more than made up for any loss of provisions.
“Charlie, are you ready for our walk?”
“Yes, Uncle Douglas,” the boy replied excitedly.
Julia tensed and quickly stepped between them. “I’m sorry, but I must forbid it. Charlie can’t go out today. The ground is muddy and quite slick.”
And you’ll steal him away from me if I don’t watch you like a hawk.
Lord Eastbourne folded his arms across his chest and stared at her. She noticed
that his hair was of a similar reddish-brown to Charlie’s and their eyes were the same lush shade of forest green. But the similarities ended there, for the earl’s jaw was firm and handsomely square, his cheekbones high, nose straight and mouth set in a determined line. Charlie had a heart-shaped face, pudgy cheeks, a button nose and small, pleasant mouth.
“We’re going for a walk, that’s all,” he assured as though reading her thoughts and understanding her fears. “We’ll stay close. I’ll bring him back within the hour.”
Still, there was nothing to prevent him from riding off with Charlie on his enormous black stallion still harbored in the barn. The beast had been straining at his tether all morning, eager for a gallop.
“Julia, I promise.” Once again, his tone was one of gentle reassurance.
“So do I,” Charlie said eagerly, then exchanged a look with the earl.
She glanced from man to boy and her heart sank. There was something between the two, a unique rapport. An immediate and comfortable friendship. They seemed able to communicate without words passing between them.
“I’ve decided to stay for the week,” the earl continued, overlooking the fact that he hadn’t been invited. “Mr. Barrow will arrange to have our bags brought up here today.”
Charlie cheered.
“Now, about that walk,” he said, scooping Charlie onto his broad shoulders without awaiting her permission.
“We’ll stay within sight of the house,” Charlie offered.
She was little relieved. Though Lord Eastbourne would not steal him today, there was always tomorrow… or the day after that… certainly by week’s end.
Chapter 5
Since Charlie’s chair could not be wheeled through the puddles and mire, Douglas had no choice but to carry him into the garden on his shoulders. After all, the boy was slight for his age and would be no burden to him. Also, Douglas preferred to keep hold of him in the event something strange should occur.
Charlie let out a whoop of delight and raised his arms into the air. “I can almost touch the clouds, Uncle Douglas!”
Douglas laughed and secured the happily squirming child more firmly on his shoulders. “Hold still or we’ll both fall to the ground. Where is King Cadeyrn? By the bluebells?”