by Julia Ross
Ryder spun about. The man’s bones were a masculine version of Miracle’s. His hair was the same glossy black, though it stood up in wild tufts on the top of his head. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, as if he had been up all night.
“Mr. Dillard Heather?” He bowed when his offered handshake was ignored. “Ryderbourne. At your service, sir. This is your sister, Miracle. I trust you’ll welcome your own flesh and blood?”
Dillard stared in a stupefied silence. His breath reeked of brandy. “Miracle?”
She clung to the banister and tried to smile. “It’s really me, Dillard!”
Her brother seemed torn between hope and panic, like a dog that longs for a bone but fears to be beaten. “You heard the news, eh? Came to help the crows pick over my carcass?”
“What’s wrong, Dillard? Where are your servants? Why are Mary and the children hiding upstairs?”
His face crumpled. Dillard started to weep into both hands. Terrible, racking sobs.
Ryder looked away. Distress hammered in his blood that this should be Miracle’s homecoming. Nevertheless, he stepped back and allowed her to go to her brother. She put her arms about his shoulders.
“It’s all right, Dill,” she said. “What’s happened?”
Dillard hugged her, then set her back to examine her face, as if he thought she might vanish at any moment. “You’re an angel, Mirry, really an angel. Been drinking, that’s all. Glad you could come. You’ve grown as pretty as a picture.”
He turned to stumble back into his study. Tears spilled down Amanda’s white cheeks as she watched her father disappear. Miracle took a deep breath, then turned to the little girl and smiled with stunning equanimity.
“Let me take you upstairs, Amanda. Your papa isn’t very well, but I’d like to get acquainted with your mama and the rest of my nephews and nieces. Then we’ll see about getting those buns, shall we?”
The child nodded and took Miracle’s hand.
“I’ll take care of your brother,” Ryder whispered as she stepped past him. “But it will be dangerous to stay here very long. Hanley may already be searching Manchester for families named Heather.”
She gave him a valiant grin, though he thought that her heart had simply snapped in two. “I’m aware of that. It’s just a risk we’re going to have to take.”
“You’re all right?”
“I’m only concerned that the rest of the children are hungry, too. Nothing else matters much compared to that, does it?”
With the child’s trusting fingers locked in hers, Miracle disappeared up the stairs.
Ryder looked after her for a moment. Any other young lady of his acquaintance would probably have dissolved into hysterical tears, and demanded he forget everything except her personal misery. Instead, Miracle had instantly seen that the child’s distress was more important than her own.
Yet the clock was ticking. Hanley knew that she was fleeing north. Unless they could recover the bag and learn why the earl wanted it, her life was still in danger.
Dillard had already poured himself another brandy. Other than the tray holding the decanter and glasses, every surface in the study—desk, chairs, shelves, most of the carpet—was covered with a confusion of papers.
He looked up as Ryder strode in. “Friend of Mirry’s, eh? Have a drink, sir!”
Ryder took the glass from the man’s hand and set it back on the tray. “You’ve had enough, Mr. Heather.”
Dillard fell back into a chair, crushing letters and bills as he did so.
“What is it?” Ryder asked. “Bankruptcy?”
“How the devil did you know that?” Dillard stared up as if he saw ghosts. “Did the bailiffs send you?”
“No one sent me. I merely escorted your sister here.”
“Then, for God’s sake, take her away again, Mr. Ryderbourne.”
“Lord Ryderbourne.” Ryder pushed aside a jumble of account books and propped his hip on the desk.
The handsome mouth compressed, as if the man choked back dismay. “Mirry’s latest protector, eh? No need for pretense, m’lord. I know what my sister does for a living. It’s my shame as much as hers.”
Ryder refrained from punching the man’s jaw. “Stand up, sir!”
Dillard staggered to his feet. “If I’d had the courage to do it, I’d have blown my brains out, so be damned to you and your damned judgmental airs, Your Lordship!”
“You have a wife and five children, sir. And you’re not in jail yet.”
Miracle’s brother clutched the edge of the desk. “Creditors’ll turn us out, bag and baggage, and put the whole lot up for sale. My bairns’ll be turned out to starve and I’ll see the inside of a debtor’s cell, whatever you say.”
“I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean, Mr. Heather. Put your arm about my neck and come with me!”
As if someone else pulled his strings, Miracle’s brother did exactly as he was told. Ryder supported his weight and dragged him into the kitchen, then bent the man’s head over the sink. Dillard stood helplessly, staring down into the mess of dirty dishes, as Ryder worked the pump. Even when the sudden rush of water poured over his hair, he still stood passively, turning his face slowly from side to side.
“Sober yet?” Ryder asked.
Dillard gasped for breath. “Nay.’Appen it’ll ta’e more than that.”
Ryder cranked the handle again. More water cascaded. “Is that enough?”
He shook his head, flinging droplets like a dog fresh out of a pond, then shuddered.
“’Appen so!”
Ryder grabbed a towel from a hook beside the range. “Sit down in that chair and dry your hair. I’ll get a fire going.”
Dillard sat down. Water trickled into his collar and cravat. “Y’r Lordship nedna fix th’ fire. Ah’ll do it.”
“Speak in plain English, sir, if you please.”
The man shivered and closed his eyes, before pulling himself together with a visible effort. “I’m not much of a man, am I?”
Ryder built a fire, then filled the kettle and hung it over the flames. “That’s up to you. Brandy rarely offers a very sound path out of trouble.”
“It wasn’t exactly a conscious decision,” Dillard said with a little flash of wry humor. “You could say that one thing led to another.”
Ryder crossed his arms and stared down at him. “You had some success in your business. You borrowed. Expansion brought more profits. You borrowed some more. As your business grew, you made investments. Some of the ventures seemed a little risky, but you took delight in those unearned returns. After all, you’d had to work so damned hard for everything else, and it was the only way to really make your money grow fast enough.”
Dillard rubbed the towel around his neck. “Perceptive, an’t you? It worked for a while.”
“And it might have kept on working, except that your lifestyle became ever more extravagant. You bought this house and kept a carriage, long before you could afford it. You hired a full staff and a governess for your children. You even took lessons in how to speak as a gentleman—hired a superior valet, probably. Meanwhile, your family was never denied any luxury.”
“Had to project the right image. All successful business is built on bluff, Lord Ryderbourne.”
Ryder glanced around the untidy kitchen. He was coldly determined that Miracle must never know the worst of this.
“No doubt. Yet too many of those investments turned rotten. Capital started hemorrhaging. When you couldn’t pay your servants, they left. In the end everything imploded like a house of cards. Now your creditors are dunning you and threatening to call in your mortgages. So you had a quick drink to calm your nerves—then another. Is that about the size of it?”
Dillard’s mouth worked. “I’m not the first man to make a few bad judgments.”
“And you won’t be the last. There’s only one part of this story that really stinks to high heaven, and I could beat you into a damned pulp over it.”
The damp
head jerked up. Dillard’s eyes were still rimmed in scarlet, but he was halfway to being sober. “What the hell do you mean?”
Ryder leaned forward. “Your sister’s savings. You embezzled them, didn’t you? You lost all of Miracle’s money, as well as your own.”
The towel crushed beneath clenched fingers. “How the devil did you guess that?”
“Because I’d probably have done it, too—grasped at any straw, however dishonorable—before I saw my children starve.”
Miracle’s brother stared up in silence for several moments, breathing hard. “I only borrowed it, little by little,” he said at last. “I promised myself that when things came right again, I’d pay her back with interest. I never meant—”
“Yet it’s gone.” Ryder pushed away to stalk about the kitchen, opening jars and boxes.
Dillard stood up and tossed down the towel. “You won’t find any tea or coffee, my lord. Cook took it all in lieu of her unpaid wages.”
Ryder glanced back at him. “You might have mentioned that before I filled the kettle. Never mind! I need to know about a bag that Miracle sent here for safekeeping. A Mr. George Melman delivered it.”
Dillard flushed and bit his lip. “I don’t have it.”
In one stride Ryder held Miracle’s brother by the throat. “Did you steal that from your sister, as well?”
“I’m facing ruin! So, yes, I took a quick look inside, but though I was tempted to sell the jewels, I didn’t!”
“Though you no longer have it? What happened?”
“Patrick O’Neill barged in just as Melman arrived. He’d probably been watching the house. He grabbed the bag and tipped the contents onto the hall table.”
“This O’Neill is one of your creditors?”
Dillard nodded. “He took the jewelry, though he said it still wasn’t enough to settle my debts.”
“And the other things?”
“I thought the bailiffs would seize all of Mirry’s things along with mine. So I asked Mr. Melman to keep the rest safe until sent for.”
“Then you did cling to a modicum of honor. Did Melman leave an address?”
“He’s a traveling preacher. He went north toward Lancashire and said he’d get in touch later.”
Unable to stop himself, Ryder laughed. “Then I ask only one thing of you now, Mr. Heather: Your sister is not to know any of this.”
“If she asks me about the jewelry, I don’t see how I can keep it from her.”
“Tell her the truth about Melman bringing the bag, but you’re to screw your bloody mouth shut about losing the rest of her savings. Let her think that you had a spot of trouble, but now your investments have turned around.”
“But I can never pay her back!”
“Yes, you can. I’m going to make you a loan.”
Color flooded Dillard’s face. He collapsed back into his chair. “A loan, my lord?”
“You heard me.”
Miracle’s brother laid his head on the kitchen table and began to sob.
RYDER rubbed down his horses and left them in Dillard’s stable, then he strode around Manchester like an avenging warrior angel. It took most of the morning.
The first item of business was to send a baker’s boy to Dillard’s house with a load of bread and buns and meat pies. A dairy maid took fresh milk, butter, and cheese. The grocer’s lad brought apples and cabbages and potatoes, followed by packets of tea and coffee and chocolate. The butcher sent beef and sausages.
The children were to have a feast, courtesy of their aunt Miracle.
It took a little longer to visit banks and businessmen, but each of Dillard’s creditors was flattered or cajoled or threatened, until he agreed to refinance. The mortgage on the house was transferred into Lord Ryderbourne’s name, then paid off. Tradesmen, blacksmiths, leather suppliers, servants—everyone with a claim against Mr. Dillard Heather or his family—saw bills settled in cash. Only O’Neill was impossible to find. He had gone back to Ireland.
No doubt there was fraud buried in some of the transactions. No doubt some better bargains could have been struck, if Ryder had taken more time. Yet he didn’t care what it cost. He only cared that Miracle never find out that her brother had betrayed her.
He found the governess through a ladies’ employment agency. No, Miss Perkins had not yet found a new post. Yes, her references had always been excellent, but most families preferred a younger governess these days. It did not help, alas, that she had left her last employment in such haste.
Miss Perkins opened her door to reveal a shabby space brightened with brave touches of gentility. Quietly spoken, with soft, dark eyes, she was thrilled to return to the Heather family right away. His Lordship was most kind. She missed the children more than she could say. Though she allowed no hint of distress to pass her lips, it was obvious that Perky had been on the verge of destitution herself.
Ryder strode back into the more prosperous streets and stopped briefly opposite Dillard’s place of business. The sign above the window was picked out in gold letters on black: DILLARD HEATHER, BOOT AND SHOE MAKER.
As soon as Hanley came here, he would track Miracle in an instant. Meanwhile, it was impossible for Ryder to keep his own presence and his interest in the Heather family a secret. He was the favored elder son of the Duke of Blackdown. Manchester had probably never before witnessed this much bowing and scraping.
By the time he returned to Dillard’s house, it was late afternoon. Ryder knew a moment of real dread as he strode up to the front door. If the earl had already been here—
But his man was still on watch, and Miracle opened the door to smile at him. His heart leaped at the shine in her eyes.
“I’m prepared to wager that the only person who’s not eaten yet is you,” she said.
He pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss. “How did you guess? No dramatic changes while I’ve been gone?”
“Nothing, except that a remarkable wave of cheer has been sweeping the household.”
“Thank God! The delay was more than a little unnerving.”
“Fiddlesticks! Now that she’s eaten, Amanda would be more than a match for Lord Hanley.”
She led him through to the kitchen and set a hot meal in front of him. Ryder inhaled the savory steam—God, he was starving!—then glanced about. The room was spotless: crockery washed and put away, floor scoured, grate shiny with fresh blacking. Miracle’s hands showed how hard she had worked.
“The elves have been busy while I’ve been gone,” he said.
“Always a good idea to have connections among the wee folk.” She sat opposite him and propped her chin on both fists. Dark waves framed her face. He yearned with sudden desperation for her to really give him her heart. “Miss Perkins came back and Dillard says his affairs are taking a turn for the better. Your doing, of course?”
“I’m making him a loan, that’s all. His business is sound enough. It just needed a quick infusion of capital.”
Her mouth quirked and she looked down. “So he panicked over nothing?”
“If you like. I’ll send my Mr. Davis from Wyldshay to advise him how to better manage his cash flow in future.”
Miracle turned her head to stare out at the bright summer afternoon beyond the small window. Her profile, as always, took away his breath.
“Dillard’s wife, Mary, is expecting another baby in a few weeks. She slipped on the bedroom carpet four days ago and has been confined to her bed. Dillard is with her now, and Miss Perkins is taking care of the children in the nursery.”
“He told you about Mr. Melman?”
She nodded. “But everything else seemed so much more important.”
A slight noise in the doorway made her look up. Dillard walked in and laid a hand on Miracle’s shoulder, then he sat down beside her.
“I’m sorry to entertain you in the kitchen, my lord. By tomorrow I’ll be able to offer you both better hospitality.”
Ryder laid down his knife and fork. “I regret that pressing bus
iness takes us away this afternoon, sir. Miracle would like to recover her bag from Mr. Melman without further delay.”
Dillard pinned Ryder with a defiant glare, then he shook his head and bit his lip.
“Then another time, Mirry,” he said.
She put her arms about her brother and hugged him. “You won’t be able to keep me away, sir.”
AMANDA woke up with a start. She choked back a sob, but then she remembered: Everything was going to be all right, after all. Perky sat snoring gently in the nursery armchair. Simon and Freddy and George were still asleep, after being put down for a nap. Aunt Miracle and the nice man who’d sent all that food had left, but a bright copper penny gleamed on the little table next to her bed. She’d eaten as many buns as she wanted and she’d been allowed to keep the penny, as well.
She wriggled into her dress and thrust the penny into her pinafore pocket.
Mama and Baby Charlotte were asleep, too. Papa had flung himself onto the chaise longue in Mama’s bedroom. Snores rattled in his throat. He didn’t wake up, even when she shook his shoulder. There weren’t any servants yet, though Papa had said they’d have new maids and a cook by tomorrow.
So she alone was awake in the whole world. Amanda wandered about the house, looking into all the rooms, just in case.
When a staccato sound echoed from outside, she rushed into the front parlor to look out. A carriage! Perhaps Aunt Miracle and that nice man had come back already! She ran into the hall and tugged open the front door. Her heart thumped like a rocking horse. A carriage had stopped in front of the house.
She almost raced down the steps to meet him, but the man who stepped down wasn’t Aunt Miracle’s friend. Neither was it any of those nasty men who’d been coming to the house to shout at Papa. This newcomer was an absolute stranger.
He strode up to her and bent down. “This is the Heather household?”
Amanda stuck her finger in her mouth. She was suddenly afraid, so she clutched hard at her penny.
“Don’t deny it, little miss! I had the directions from Mr. Miles, apprentice at your father’s business.” He crouched lower and smiled. He had bright blue eyes and yellow hair, but she did not like his smile. “What do you have in your pocket, sweetheart? Something for good luck?”