Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  “If you watch the big cats closely, they act much as Sunny does. They sprawl on their backs, bat their paws at small objects, or rub their faces and sides against things.”

  “Fascinating.”

  She turned her head. “Are you mocking me?”

  “Not in the least. I’d never realized the similarities.” He shrugged. “But I guess I never had the opportunity to see it for myself.”

  “You did say you’d never been to the zoo.”

  “And I wasn’t allowed the opportunity to have much experience around house cats, either.”

  “I still think it’s so sad that you’ve never had a pet.”

  “My mother thinks animals are vile and diseased.”

  “Vile? Diseased? And just how would she know that?”

  Conrad blinked. “You know, I’ve never thought to ask. It is odd that she says she hates animals and wants nothing to do with them, but when has she ever gotten close enough to find out?”

  “Sometimes when someone is afraid of something, they make up stories in order to avoid it.”

  “Amelia you’ve given me much to ponder. You are a very intelligent woman.”

  “I am?”

  “Definitely.”

  Another first. No one had ever told her that, either. “Thank you, Conrad.”

  “For what?”

  “For…” She looked away, suddenly unable to form the words for making me feel special. Instead, she reached for his arm to pull him to another cage, and then thought better of it. Amelia, you need to let this man be in charge for a while. “Ready to see another animal?”

  “If it would make you happy, then certainly.”

  Amelia waited for Conrad to take the lead as he offered her his elbow.

  “Where to?”

  Amelia pointed ahead. “How about the elephant?”

  His cravat moved as he swallowed. “Aren’t they… at least I’ve heard they’re…”

  “They’re what? Grey?”

  “Well…”

  “Wrinkled?”

  “Yes I suppose that—”

  “Loud?”

  “That’s not exactly what—”

  She stopped in front of a very tall cage. And pointed up.

  Conrad’s gaze followed the direction of her finger. He craned his neck back so far Amelia feared he’d topple over. “My word. That creature is…”

  “Enormous?”

  “That’s the word I was searching for, yes.”

  The huge beast raised its trunk high above its head and let loose with an earth-thundering trumpet blast. The hair on the back of Amelia’s neck stood up. Would Conrad’s do the same?

  If his bulging eyes and open mouth were any indication, then yes. He pointed to the elephant. “That was… Oh my.”

  Amelia laughed. “Yes, very much so. I should have warned you that she does that sometimes.”

  “That’s a female? Good heavens, I can only imagine a male to be the size of a mountain.”

  As if she knew they were discussing her, the animal in question swung her giant head in their direction.

  Conrad took a half step back. “W-what’s she doing?”

  “I haven’t a clue.” Amelia took a closer look. “But if I had to guess, I’d say she’s looking directly at… you.”

  “Then by all means, make her stop.”

  “I wouldn’t know how.” She watched in fascination as the elephant lumbered closer to them. Thankfully, she didn’t trumpet again. If she had at that proximity, Amelia feared their ears might have melted.

  With slow, thumping steps that caused small clouds of dust to rise, the elephant came closer.

  Conrad coughed and grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket. “Does she do this with everyone who visits her cage?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I’ve been several times and have never seen her do this. Perhaps…”

  “Perhaps?”

  “Maybe she’s curious about you.”

  “Why would she be?”

  Amelia whispered so he could hear her but not Annie, who was a few feet behind them. “I was curious about you, you know. Why not an elephant?”

  A slight smile formed on Conrad’s lips. “You were?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Well that’s very—”

  Quick as a flash of lightning, the elephant’s trunk poked through the bars and snatched Conrad’s hat.

  “I say! Return that at once!”

  The elephant waved the item up and down in the air. Just far enough away from the bars that Conrad couldn’t grab it. Was she playing a game of keep-away with him?

  Amelia reached through the bars as well, trying to help Conrad regain his hat. “She certainly seems as if she’d like to keep it.”

  “It wouldn’t fit her bulbous head. Plus, it’s my favorite hat.” He mumbled something else about lack of money with which to purchase a replacement, but that made no sense.

  The elephant stepped closer. Amelia pointed. “Look, perhaps she’s tired of her game.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  Another step closer and Conrad could just reach the hat. His fingers skimmed its brim, but it was pulled away at the last second. “Blast!”

  Amelia sighed. “It seems you may have to say farewell to your beloved piece of apparel.”

  “But—”

  The hat in question was suddenly thrust through the bars and unceremoniously plopped back on Conrad’s hat.

  “Oh how wonderful!” Amelia clapped.

  Conrad furrowed his brow.

  “But what could be the matter? Your favorite hat has been restored.”

  He turned to her and grimaced. “The problem, something we both neglected to realize, is that while I have indeed been reunited with my hat, it is now covered in a very unappealing substance.”

  “And that would be…?”

  “Elephant spittle.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The note Conrad delivered to Andrew Fletcher and his daughter should have reached them the day before, at the latest. Would they meet him at Hyde’s Park? Early in the day as it was, there wouldn’t be many around to overhear their conversation. Indecision had warred with curiosity to find out more about the man. If Mother hadn’t confirmed the identity of Conrad’s true father, Conrad never would have taken the next step to speak with him.

  Even though Mother had been indiscreet in her behavior, at least there had been only one other man beside Lord Lofton with whom she’d…

  There was that, at least.

  He’d left his carriage in the care of his driver, and much to his own chagrin, walked several hundred yards to the place at which he’d invited the other two to meet him. Thoughts of mud clinging to his boots and small insects darting about made his skin crawl. It was necessary, however, to keep his distance from his carriage. Others might know it was his and be curious of his business.

  Information of such a delicate nature must be kept secret, at all costs. If someone were to discover Conrad not to be the true Earl of Lofton, it could produce disastrous results. Loss of income, title, home… possibly. Stripped of respectability and standing in the community, definitely. Of course, the way to avoid anyone finding out was not to ever seek out his father.

  Something inside Conrad, though, something small and insistent, drew out his longing to know Andrew Fletcher. Perhaps they could form a friendship of sorts. And Cecilia. His sister. What would it be like to share family traits with a sibling? Would they have any similar likes and dislikes? Did she detest birds? Adore blueberry tarts for dessert?

  A cool breeze blew past, causing a lock of hair at his forehead to flop over one eye. As he smoothed his hair and righted his hat, a chill ran through him. And it had nothing to do with the wind.

  But with Mother.

  If she found out what he was doing, that he wished to know his other parent and his sibling…

  No. Better not to dwell on that scenario. She’d find out soon enough. Her nosiness into his business knew no
bounds. It would be beneficial however, if that were to happen after Conrad had the chance to get to know them himself. Then, a relationship would already be in the making and there wouldn’t be anything she could do except complain and whine. Of those, she was a champion.

  Steps sounded from behind. Startled out of his reverie, he turned. And there they were.

  His family.

  Father and daughter hurried down the path toward him, the hem of Cecilia’s skirt whipping about in the breeze. Andrew Fletcher, for Conrad could no longer think of him as Mister, held onto his daughter’s elbow. They both appeared to be in some degree of dismay.

  Oh dear. What must they be thinking of my invitation? With a small nod of acknowledgement, Conrad walked to a nearby bench and waited.

  As Andrew and Cecilia reached him, they searched his face with their glances.

  Suddenly, Conrad’s nerves were on edge. What if they don’t believe me? Or do, but don’t wish to have any further contact with me? A sad, dark yearning, the depth of which he couldn’t recall ever experiencing, enveloped him. His mother esteemed him not. His betrothed surely could not love him, as no other woman had ever accepted his friendship beyond polite party conversation. Was he now hoping against hope that these two, his flesh and blood, would like him? Perhaps even one day, love him?

  The Fletchers met him at the bench, each with flushed cheeks and wide-open eyes. Conrad glanced at his father. Blue-green eyes, shaped like his own. Cecilia’s were light blue. Why hadn’t Conrad noticed before the similarity in color to his own?

  Because you never expected them to be family. You thought they were only…

  Commoners.

  Shame washed over him. There he stood, tall and smart in his expensive clothes, bearing a title that was a lie. And they were in their older, slightly worn clothing, seemingly honest and steadfast, hard-working people who, if Conrad had to guess, would be unapologetic of their place in society.

  “Lord Lofton, you’ve given us quite a scare. Has something happened? And why have you requested us to meet you? Here?” Andrew turned his head and glanced around the park. Had they never been there before? Conrad always assumed that everyone, except him, of course, did so. But… they were not of the same class as he was.

  Or as he pretended to be.

  Conrad waved his hand in front of the bench. “Please, Miss Fletcher, won’t you have a seat?”

  She smiled. “Certainly, my lord.”

  Conrad cringed. In but a few moments, they might want to rethink that greeting.

  Andrew frowned. “I’m afraid I mustn’t tarry from my shop too long, Lord Lofton. Is there something wrong? Something perhaps we could help you with?”

  Conrad paced in front of the bench where Cecilia sat perched, watching him move back and forth in front of her.

  The time has come. Time to own the truth.

  Conrad closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, both father and sister were staring at him. “Thank you for meeting me. I’ll try not to detain you any longer than is necessary. I have something to say which is of great importance to me, and I hope will be so to you, as well.”

  Andrew and Cecilia eyed each other and then returned their attention to him. Andrew nodded. “Please, continue, my lord.”

  “When I was first at your place of employ, M-Mr. Fletcher, I was accompanied by my mother, as you are aware.”

  More nodding came from Andrew, but he remained silent.

  “You thought that perhaps you’d known her before. That you’d… That you and she were… had…” He swallowed. “I asked her about you. That perhaps she had known you many years ago.”

  Andrew’s eyes glistened. Was he remembering a love of long past? “And her answer?”

  “She confirmed knowing you, quite well, in fact, nearly thirty years ago.”

  Cecilia stared at him, unblinking. “Papa, then it’s true?”

  “Yes, angel, it’s true. Before I met your mother, I was in love with…” He looked down at his dusty boots and swallowed. “I thought she and I would be married. But one day I went to see her and she had just… disappeared.”

  “Oh, Papa, how awful for you.” She grabbed her father’s hand and tugged him onto the bench beside her.

  “It was meant to be, I suppose. If I hadn’t married your mother, then I wouldn’t have you, now would I?” He reached up and gently ran a finger down her flushed cheek.

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  They both turned to Conrad again, looking as if for a moment, they’d forgotten his existence. What must it be like to be loved so unconditionally by someone? To be thought of with such esteem and gladness?

  Conrad had never known. Would he ever?

  “Pardon us, my lord,” said Andrew. “You were saying?”

  Being still overcome with emotion at having witnessed the tender scene, it was a few seconds before he found that he could indeed speak intelligently. “Yes… My mother confirmed knowing you and…”

  Leaning forward, Andrew lowered his voice as he spoke. “Tell me, if you will, why she ran away? Was it something I said or did? It’s plagued me all of these years, the not knowing.”

  “I will tell you. It’s not something that’s easy to say, I’m afraid.”

  Cecilia bit her lip. “Oh my, has something happened to your mother? Is she in poor health?”

  “No, she’s fine.” At least physically. But a real bear to contend with. “The reason she fled was not because of you, Mr. Fletcher. Well, it was and it wasn’t…”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Lord Lofton.”

  Why couldn’t he just spout out the words and be done with it?

  Because what you say next could change your whole life. And it might not be for the better.

  “The reason my mother left and didn’t say good-bye to you was because she found herself to be… in the family way.”

  Father and daughter both inhaled as one. Cecilia’s eyes grew round and Andrew’s face turned as red as an apple.

  Hadn’t Mother mentioned her father owning an apple cart? An incongruous thought in the midst of turmoil.

  Andrew shook his head ever so slowly. “But… I didn’t know… I—”

  “Of that I’m aware, Mr. Fletcher. Please don’t think I’m here to lay blame in any way.”

  The other man raised his gaze to Conrad. “And just what happened to this… child? M-my child. Is he or she in London? Can I meet…?”

  “The child is indeed in London. In this very park, in fact.”

  Both of them whipped around their heads to peer behind them, as if the person they sought were standing there. When they turned back toward Conrad, they wore similar puzzled expressions. Brows lowered, mouths turned down at the corners. Cecilia remained quiet, but Andrew spoke. “May I meet…?”

  “You’ve already met him.”

  “So it’s a son, then.”

  “Yes, a son.”

  “But when did I meet him? Where?” He spread his hands.

  “You’ve met him in your shop… and you’re… looking at him… now.”

  Andrew stood. “That’s impossible. Are you not Lord Lofton?”

  “I am.”

  “So your father was also an earl?”

  “That’s where the story takes a turn. Yes, my father was an earl. Or so I thought. It seems when my mother found herself to be in the family way, she decided…”

  Andrew blinked. “I can imagine what she decided. I had no money. Miriam always had an eye for the finer things, wishing she was wealthy. That she didn’t live the life we lived.”

  “Yes. From what’s she’s recently told me, that’s how it was.”

  Cecilia stood as well. “So you’re my… you’re really my…?” Her hand pressed against her mouth.

  “But how can I be sure you’re… my son?” Andrew put his arm around his daughter and waited.

  Conrad smiled. A small smile, but one he hoped conveyed his true feelings. “My mother has assured me that I am not Lord Lofton�
�s true heir and therefore the only possibility is that I am…”

  “My son.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Andrew jumped. “Please, my lord, don’t address me as such.”

  “You are my father. And I am not in reality an earl.”

  Andrew stepped closer, drawing Conrad’s sister to them as well. “I’m so surprised… overcome… pleased.”

  Conrad’s heart nearly burst from joy. Pleased. Someone was pleased. By him.

  “But if you’re not really an earl, then…?”

  “That’s the sticky part, I’m afraid. If you consent, I’d love nothing more than to have a… friendship with you both.”

  Andrew nodded. “But you can’t acknowledge who you really are and keep your life as it is.”

  “When you say it in such a way, it does sound selfish. Perhaps…”

  “No, no. I meant not to offend or condemn. You’ve been raised to this life you’ve led. You weren’t responsible for your mother’s actions. Or mine. And it appears that until recently, you knew not who your real father was.”

  “Very recently. Yes.”

  “How did you know? Had Miriam confessed?”

  “She only confirmed it after I confronted her. It was…” He looked at Cecilia. His sister. “It was when Cecilia mentioned that you and I seemed similar. That she could almost imagine we could be related, if she hadn’t known better. That coupled with my mother’s words told me the whole tale.”

  She blushed. “If you must know, I regretted those words I said to you after you left. I felt I shouldn’t have said something so personal to an earl.”

  “When in fact, you hadn’t.”

  Cecilia laughed. What a lovely, musical sound.

  Andrew reached out this hand to Conrad, who grasped it warmly. “I’m so pleased to know you, Lord Lofton.”

  “You many call me Conrad, if you wish.”

  “Only when there’s no one about.”

  “May I call you Andrew when we are alone? My mother told me your Christian name.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  Conrad turned to Cecilia and took her hand with the intent of kissing it. Instead, the girl threw her arms around his neck, giving him a tight, warm hug. His throat constricted and tears threatened to fall.

  When she stepped away, her eyes glistened as well. Andrew’s mouth lifted into a smile. “I’m afraid we must return to my shop, Lord… Conrad.”