by Deb Marlowe
He wrenched open the sitting room door.
No, it was true. Helen and Frances had found his townhouse.
Both of his sisters leapt to their feet as he entered the room, peppering him with questions.
“Richard! This is famous! How long have you been living here?”
“Who is that adorable child we met today?”
He fended off their hugs and fixed them both with a baleful glare. “What on Earth are you gabbing about?”
Helen sat first, eyeing him with aplomb. “We met the most adorable young girl at the sweet shop today.”
“And she had quite a lovely caretaker with her as well.” Frances sat next to Helen, smiling up at him.
“And this lovely caretaker gave the shopkeeper your name as the account holder of record,” Helen continued. “She grew very flustered when we questioned her about it, and about how she knew you. She extricated herself from the situation quickly, I must say.”
Richard’s head began to pound with heavy, pulsing throbs. He massaged his temple. He had planned to come home after a morning spent at the Marie Elise to see Miss Stephens and Marguerite, not to hash out his secret with his family members. “I see.”
Miss Stephens had promised she would be careful. She had given her word. Yet, she had managed to tell not just two random people, but his own sisters, that she was living under his protection—with a child. He would never hear the end of this.
“We asked the shopkeeper for your address, and she gave it to us.” Helen raised her chin at him.
“Well, after we slipped her a few coins,” Frances added.
He groaned. Brutal honesty always was one of Frances’ dubious virtues.
“Do sit down, Richard.” Helen waved at the chair across from them. “What on Earth have you been up to? Is that child yours? Tell us everything.”
“Yes, and do get on with it,” Frances urged. “Mother and Father will be here any minute.”
His stomach clenched. “What? Why?”
“Because we told them to be here, silly goose.” Frances rolled her eyes. “What do you think? We find out our seafaring brother has returned to England, set up a lovely townhouse, and has a beautiful woman and adorable little girl living under his roof? What makes you think we wouldn’t tell?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” His head gave another sickening thud. “I just thought perhaps that my little sisters would respect my privacy.”
“Dear Richard.” Helen rose and, coming over to him, patted his shoulder. “When have we ever done that?”
Richard shook his head. It was true. Growing up with Helen and Frances meant constant interruptions and questions. His elder brother had mostly left him alone, but always with an overarching impression that he suspected Richard of being up to no good.
If only Miss Stephens had followed his orders, none of this would have happened. He could have evaded this entire scenario. What on Earth could she have been thinking?
There was a discreet tap at the door, and Roberts entered. Behind him, Mother and Father drifted into the room, completely baffled looks upon their faces. Richard fought the urge to jump out the nearest window. He had faced far worse than irate parents during his years at sea. He could endure this.
As he rose, another commotion sounded in the hallway, and the door opened once more. His grandmother, the Dowager Marchioness of Westchester marched into the room, on the arm of her brother, the fearsome Duke of Danby.
Richard eyed the window carefully. Perhaps one good jump wouldn’t be out of the question after all.
Chapter 6
“Oh, thank goodness you two are home.” Mrs. Hopkins, the new housekeeper, bustled Marguerite and Laura into the kitchen. Mr. Bonnay, the recently-hired and somewhat controversial French chef, was rolling out pastry dough as they entered the room.
Laura breathed in appreciatively. The kitchen was warm and filled with inviting smells, a dramatic improvement over those first early days when she had just arrived. She sank onto a bench and motioned for Marguerite to sit beside her.
The little girl complied, but her movements were slow. Laura flicked a worried glance over her charge. Was the child really still upset about Claudine’s departure? Surely an entire day at the park, along with endless treats, had lifted her mood. She had seemed on the verge of improvement earlier in the afternoon, but now that they were home, she was wilting like a flower.
“Let us have tea,” Laura announced. “I could use a little refreshment after all the running about we’ve done. Marguerite, would you care for a glass of milk?”
The child nodded and slumped against Laura’s shoulder.
“I don’t know that you’ll be having any tea any time soon, Miss Stephens,” Mrs. Hopkins announced, breathless. “There is such a to-do going on in the sitting-room! The captain is home, and with him, his entire family.” She gave a dramatic pause, her brown eyes widening. “The Duke of Danby himself is here! Apparently Captain Carew never told them he had a child or a home here in London, and the duke is fit to be tied.”
Sudden heat rushed to Laura’s cheeks, and her heart thudded painfully against her ribcage. Oh dear. Her mind flashed back to the captain’s sisters in the shop that morning. This had to be her fault. “How did they find out about Marguerite?”
“Well, I am not sure, but I think they saw you in the park today. Or something. Roberts has been listening at the door, and reporting what he could at decent intervals.” Mrs. Hopkins sighed. “It’s a disaster. What’s more, you’ve been sent for.”
“What do you mean?” An impending sense of doom settled over Laura. Yes, this family conclave had to be a direct result of her slip-up in the shop this morning. It was too much of a coincidence to think otherwise.
“The captain has requested that you and Miss Marguerite come and join them.” Mrs. Hopkins gave her a kindly smile. “Don’t look so shocked. It’s natural that the duke should want a chance to inspect you for himself. From what I’ve heard, he’s a fearsome old fellow.”
That did not ease her flustered feeling in the slightest. “Why didn’t you tell me the minute we crossed the threshold? I don’t like that I’ve kept Captain Carew waiting.”
“Well, I didn’t want to send you in there without explaining things,” the housekeeper admitted with a shrug. “Besides, Miss Marguerite looked so tired. I thought a moment’s pause would help before you bearded the lion in his den.”
Laura wrapped her arm protectively around Marguerite’s shoulder. The little girl’s head drooped against her. How much of this did she understand? Mrs. Hopkins should be a bit more circumspect. Laura’s conscience pricked her. Well, and so could she for that matter. Perhaps Marguerite was too tired after romping in the park to even listen to grownup conversations. One could hope, anyway.
“Come, Marguerite. We must go and see Captain Carew.” Laura rose, but Marguerite stayed rooted to her spot on the bench.
“Poor mite. She is worn out.” Mrs. Hopkins clucked her tongue. “Shall I get Roberts to carry her?”
“No, indeed,” Laura replied hastily. If Roberts was the man she had asked the agency to send over, then he was far too old to be toting small children around. She bent down and took Marguerite’s hand. “Come with me?”
Marguerite nodded, and followed Laura out of the kitchen and down the hall. As they neared the sitting room, the cacophony of voices was too loud to ignore.
“Richard, I might ask what you were thinking,” a male voice intoned, rising above the fray. “I’ve said nothing about your dalliances before, but this has gone too far. Is the child yours? Or isn’t she?”
Laura shrank back against the wall, and held Marguerite close. She couldn’t take the child in there, not when adults were arguing over her parentage. Though she likely wouldn’t understand everything they said, it was still far too damaging to expose her to that kind of scrutiny. “Why don’t you go upstairs and fetch your doll?”
Marguerite nodded wearily and began trudging upstairs. Laura watched h
er progress with mounting worry. She was such a spiritless little thing, and the Carew family gathering really was no place for a child, not until the conversation had cooled a bit. “I shall come up and fetch you when we are ready for you, my dear,” she called up at her charge.
Marguerite’s head bobbed listlessly. In all likelihood, she would be stretched out on her bed asleep when Laura came to fetch her. Oh, well, that was for the best. She had endured quite a bit over the past few weeks, and today had been a big day, after all.
Laura straightened up, squaring her shoulders. She had created the mess that Captain Carew was now facing, through her own indiscretion. It was now up to her to remedy the situation.
She opened the door to the sitting room, and passed over the threshold.
The babble of voices, cultured and yet angry, ceased as she entered the room. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to Captain Carew, who stood before the hearth, his head bent. As she gazed at him, he raised his head and gave her a rueful half-smile.
For a moment, no one else in the room mattered. His gaze told her that they were a team, that he was depending on her, and that her arrival pleased him. This knowledge gave her courage to survey the rest of the room.
As Mrs. Hopkins had said, it was quite a gathering of the clan. She recognized the two girls sitting on the settee as the ones who had introduced themselves to her in the shop earlier that morning. Beside them, in a low velvet chair, sat an older woman with kind brown eyes and a gentle, docile manner about her. That must be the captain’s mother. A tall older gentleman stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. There was much of his expression and bearing that reminded her of Captain Carew—he must be the captain’s father.
On the opposite side of the room, an elderly woman with masses of luxurious white hair and amber-colored eyes sat beside an equally elderly man with a cane. They must be family members, too, possibly the captain’s grandparents. They both gave the distinct impression that they were not the sort of people to entertain fools in general, and that they disapproved of this predicament in particular. Instinctively, Laura’s spine stiffened in response to their combined gazes. For some ridiculous reason, her fate seemed to rest in their gloved hands.
“This is Miss Stephens,” Captain Carew intoned from his place at the hearth. “The governess I hired to take care of Marguerite.” He heaved a sigh, waving his hand listlessly about the room. “Miss Stephens, my family.”
She bobbed an uncertain curtsy to the room in general. Her mouth had gone suddenly—and most unhelpfully—dry. She clasped her hands together. She must speak. “I’m terribly sorry for being so indiscreet,” she began. Her voice had a ridiculous squeak to it, betraying her nervousness. She cleared her throat. “I never meant to tell anyone about Marguerite, Captain Carew.”
“It’s all right.” He shrugged. “I should have known it was all for naught.”
The elderly woman unfurled a large ostrich plume fan and waved it languidly. “Did my grandson actually persuade you to deceive our family?”
Apprehension clenched Laura’s stomach, but she forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze. “He asked me to be discreet.”
“Why, pray tell?”
Captain Carew began to speak but his grandmother quieted him with a wave of her fan.
“It was my understanding that he did not wish for his great-uncle to know about his ward,” Laura answered. Since the uncle in question didn’t appear to be present, surely it was better to own the truth. “I never meant to betray the captain’s confidence.”
The elderly man beside the grandmother gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. “You were trying to keep the secret from me? Surely you know better than to try something like that, Richard.”
Laura’s stomach sank. She had just told the Duke of Danby everything the captain had worked so hard to hide.
One look at Miss Stephens’ pale, woebegone expression made Richard’s heart surge with affection. She knew exactly how he felt. In fact, she had tried to make things better. His initial anger at her was snuffed out in an instant. He should never have asked her to lie.
“It was folly. I know that now, sir,” Richard replied. “I didn’t know what to do. I had just returned from a hellish trip and I had a child on my hands. I didn’t know for certain if I would be staying here, or if I would be leaving again immediately. My one thought was to take care of Marguerite, without exposing her to gossip.”
“And to take care of yourself, by not exposing yourself to my inspection,” Danby concluded. The old man had a gift for cutting right to the heart of the matter. “Richard, you’ve made a reputation for yourself over the years, and you owe us all a true answer. I’d like to come straight to the point, as I have an engagement at the opera this evening Is the child yours?”
Richard ground his teeth together in shame. His great-uncle had a right to ask the question that surely was plaguing his entire family, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. Especially in front of Miss Stephens. For some ridiculous reason, he didn’t want her to know anything about his bachelor exploits.
“Not by blood, but by law,” he admitted at last. “She was born to—a friend of mine, after we were no longer friends. After we had not been friends for some time.”
His grandmother raised her eyebrow. “I see. Why did this woman give you the child?”
He had asked himself the same question, over and over again. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I suppose she thought I could take care of the girl.”
“You have done a good job of it, thus far,” Miss Stephens spoke up. She was still standing, pale but resolute, in the place she had rooted to since coming into the room. She looked around at his family. “He has given Marguerite the best of everything. He’s given me leave to create a proper home for her. Not many wealthy bachelors would have taken care of a ward so well. Most would have shipped her off to school.”
It was heartening to hear that he had her good opinion, and better to know that she was sharing her thoughts with his entire family. Always he had been the black sheep of the Carews—one bent on seeking adventure and pleasure rather than doing his duty. He had gloried in his difference from his elder brother. Yet, hearing that he had done well by Marguerite was intensely gratifying, especially from Miss Stephens. Her opinion mattered more than anyone else’s—for some strange reason.
“You seem to have a vast deal of good sense,” Grandmother pronounced, eyeing Miss Stephens from behind her ostrich plume fan. “I like you. I cannot say I have liked all of the young women that my grandson has brought before me, but I can say it with conviction about you. What do you think we should do now?”
Miss Stephens blushed a captivating shade of rosy pink. “Why can’t we leave things as they are? The captain has taken proper steps to make sure Marguerite is well cared for, and I am happy to be in service here as long as I’m needed.”
She wasn’t meeting his gaze. Why wouldn’t she look at him? Instead, the color continued to blossom in her cheeks, and she stared intently down at the rug.
Grandmother lifted her gaze from Miss Stephens and focused on Richard. He gave her a half-hearted grin. A strange look came into her eyes, and then she folded her fan and tapped Danby’s elbow with it. She had made some kind of decision, but about what?
“I would like to meet Marguerite,” Mother spoke up quietly. “I love children, and some days it feels like I will never have grandchildren to call my own.”
Danby rose. Whenever Danby stood up, all conversation was done, all prevaricating over. “You’ll have plenty of time to know Marguerite, Jane,” he said. “Marguerite should come live with the family. Miss Stephens may come, too. Raising a child in bachelor’s quarters—no matter how nicely furnished—simply isn’t done.”
The weight of Danby’s words settled over Richard, and something visceral bubbled inside of him. Marguerite was his, not anyone else’s. The thought was just as shocking to him as it would probably be to anyone else. But appropriate or not, they’d have to
pry her from grip. “You’re taking Marguerite away from me?” Richard’s anger flashed hot. “You can’t do that. She’s my ward. I want her with me, and I want Miss Stephens to stay with me, too.”
“Of course I can,” Danby replied smoothly. “If you were married, that would be different. However, you are a bachelor and one with a dubious past at that. You can’t be serious about raising a child. It would be better to give her over to your mother. Give the child a chance to be raised in a proper English family.”
Richard glanced over at his mother and father. Mother gave him a pleading glance, but Father remained stern and resolute. They were with Danby on this. His heart sank. Of course they would be. So it had always been. Why couldn’t they see how sincere he felt?
Grandmother rose, too. “I agree with Miss Stephens, you have shown incredible sense in not shipping that child off to school. But I also agree with my brother. You cannot raise a child on your own, Richard. Once you’re married, perhaps then it will be different. For now, though, it would be better for Marguerite to stay in Derbyshire. And we will take Miss Stephens with us. She is a treasure.”
This was the reason he had tried to outwit the Duke of Danby—the old man was autocratic beyond all reason, meddling in things that were none of his business. Richard longed for the right to express his rage as he felt it—white-hot and piercing. There was no proper way to vent his futile frustration now, not in a sitting room with his family present. He would formulate a plan, once they were gone and his head was clear. He would find a way to keep both Marguerite and Miss Stephens. The past voyage had toughened him, made him understand what was essential, what was worth fighting for.
He would do whatever it took to keep them together.
Chapter 7