When they reached London, they took up lodging at an inn. Uncle John immediately sent a message to Lord Hampton asking to be granted an appointment and the next day was received by the man in his home. Heather and her aunt remained behind at the inn to await the outcome of the meeting. Heather dared not ask what they were about, but she was more than curious. When Uncle John came back, he went directly into conference with his wife. It seemed to Heather that whatever they were planning, it was going well because her uncle was in better spirits than when he had left.
She was told to go to bed early that night after her uncle had taken it upon himself to reassure her that Lord Hampton would be helping to solve their problem.
“He’s only to see we’re telling the truth and he will do what he must. And your Yankee won’t be refusing to wed you lest he wants to lose everything he has and be thrown into prison.”
Heather didn’t understand anything. They couldn’t put a man into prison because he refused to marry a woman he had gotten in the family way. There were too many bastards walking around for that to be so. No, they were going to threaten him with something else, and she could only think of the consequences to herself if he were forced into marriage. Her life would be pure hell and no other word would do so well to describe it. But she had no voice in the matter. They had taken it out of her hands. And she could not think which was worse, being married to the devil or having to raise a bastard child.
It was almost midnight of that same night when she was awakened rudely from a sound sleep by Aunt Fanny’s large, insistent hands shaking her.
“Get up, you evil chit. Your uncle wants to speak with you.”
Heather sat up groggily and looked at her aunt who stood beside the bed, holding a lighted candle high above her head.
“Hurry with you. We’ve naught all night.”
Her aunt whirled into the shadows and left the room and Heather stared after her for a moment, blinking away sleep. Reluctantly she pushed the covers from herself. Her white body gleamed in the blackness and her hair, falling to below her waist, was lost in darkness. For the first time in many weeks she had slept without dreaming. The pitter-patter of rain on the windows had lulled her troubled thoughts to a peaceful quietness and she had curled into the downy softness of the bed and drifted into sweet oblivion. Her unwillingness to hasten from the bed now was understandable. But she must obey her aunt or suffer the consequences.
She slid drowsily from the cozy warmth and picked up her aunt’s old dress and pulled it over her head. She didn’t bother fastening it. In another moment she would just be taking it off again. She had an idea why they wanted to speak with her. She was well prepared to hear them say that Captain Birmingham had refused to be coerced into marriage. It would come as no surprise. They could have saved themselves a trip to London if they had asked her about the man. It would not take them long to tell her what he had said.
At her first timid rap on the door across the hail it was flung open by her aunt. The woman motioned her in with a hateful glower. As she moved into the room she was aware of its darkness. A small fire glowed in the hearth and only one candle burned on the table where her uncle and another man were sitting, quaffing ale from pewter tankards. The rest of the room was obscure and shadows were deep. She came closer cautiously to see whom the visitor might be and saw that he was no stranger but an old friend of the family, Lord Hampton.
With a cry of relief, Heather flew gratefully into the arms he held open to her.
“Heather!” he choked. “My little Heather.”
She clung to him and sobs flooded from the bottom of her soul to be softened against his shoulder. Second to her father, this man was the one she had loved most from childhood. He had been exceedingly kind to her and was more of an uncle than her own. He and his wife had wanted her to live with them after her father had died, but Aunt Fanny had insisted that she live with her only kinsfolk.
“It’s been long since last I saw you, child,” he murmured, pulling her from him so he could see her better. His kindly blue eyes twinkled at her. “I remember when you were but a tiny tot and you would crawl up on my knee, looking for sweets.” He grinned widely as he lifted her exquisite chin. “And now look at you, a portrait of beauty. Never have I seen such fairness before, never. You are even more lovely than your mother, beauty that she was. It’s a pity I never had sons for you to marry. I would have enjoyed you in the family. Since I have no daughters either, perhaps I can say you are mine.”
She reached up to press her lips to his cheek. “I would be honored to be your daughter,” she replied softly.
Lord Hampton smiled with pleasure and held out a chair for her to sit down in, but Aunt Fanny shoved Heather away and proceeded to sit there herself.
“Let her stand. It’ll do her good,” she sneered, fitting her monstrous shape between the arms of the chair. It squeaked and strained in protest.
Caught off guard by the rudeness of the woman, Lord Hampton gazed at her for a moment, wide-eyed. Then he motioned toward a chair at the end of the table.
“Perhaps you would be more comfortable here, my dear,” he said to Heather, moving to draw the chair from the table.
“No,” Aunt Fanny barked. She gestured to a darkened corner. “That chair is for him.”
Heather glanced up in surprise. She hadn’t known any body else was in the room. The man sat in the shadows, shrouded in darkness, and his silence gave no clue to his identity.
“Come and join us, Captain Birming’am,” Aunt Fanny crowed. “’Tis a fitting place for a Yankee.”
Heather’s heart gave a fearful leap and she swayed on her feet.
“No, thank you, madam,” a slow, confident voice replied. “I’m content where I am.”
With the familiar voice burning across her brain, Heather’s knees buckled and she sought solace in a blissful faint. With a cry, Lord Hampton leapt to cushion her fall.
“She’s had a bad shock,” he declared, swinging her up into his aging arms. He lowered her with much gentleness into the chair declined by Captain Birmingham and nervously seized a small cloth, dampened it, and pressed it to the pale brow as he bent over her.
“Are you all right?” he questioned anxiously when her eyes fluttered open.
“Don’t spoil the girl, Lord Hampton,” Aunt Fanny suggested with a sneer. “She’ll go lazy on you.”
“I’m sure she would be entitled to a rest after living with you,” he snapped, angered by the woman’s indifference.
“Please,” Heather breathed. “I’m all right.”
He brushed her hair from her brow with trembling fingers. “You gave my old heart a start,” he laughed shakily.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to. I’m better now.”
But still she was trembling, conscious of those searing eyes upon her. With unsteady fingers she clutched her gown closer over her bosom, remembering that powerful gaze which seemed to peel clothes from her and leave bare the tender body beneath.
“Come on and let’s get on with it,” Aunt Fanny demanded. “Let’s hear what the girl has to say.”
Lord Hampton eyed Heather uncertainly, fearing she would swoon again. Her lips managed a weak smile of reassurance for him, and he left her unwillingly to return to his place at the other end of the table.
“Now, with taking the action he’s going to, missy,” Aunt Fanny began, “Lord Hampton wants to assure himself he’s naught doing your captain an injustice by makin’ him claim another man’s child.”
Heather’s eyes shifted slowly from her aunt to the small, elderly man. She was feeling too dazed to understand completely what they were saying. Lord Hampton scowled at her aunt.
“Madam, perhaps unknown to you, I have a tongue in my head, and I vow it more eloquent than your garbled speech. If you don’t mind, I shall speak for myself.”
Huffily Aunt Fanny snapped her mouth closed and sat back in her chair.
“Thank you,” Lord Hampton said curtly before h
e turned to look at Heather again.
“My dear,” he began unhurriedly. “Since I am a man of honor, I cannot force Captain Birmingham to claim your child unless I know for certain he is the father. If you’ve been put upon by someone else—”
“There’s been no one else,” she assured him quietly, staring down at her hands. She related the details as if she had memorized them. “After I escaped from him, I took the coach back to my uncle’s. There’s only one coach leaving during the day to go through the village. It arrived at the village at dusk and I walked the rest of the way home. I met no one on the way nor would there have been time to tarry. My aunt can vouch for the time I reached the cottage.”
“And she ain’t been out of my sight one second since,” the woman offered triumphantly.
Lord Hampton glanced at Uncle John to receive his verifying nod, then he turned back.
“What about before, Heather?” he persisted hesitantly.
She blushed hotly and could give no answer. From the shadows came the same self-possessed voice.
“The child is mine,” Brandon stated flatly.
A pleased cackle came from Aunt Fanny, and she turned to Lord Hampton with a victorious smirk.
“Now what do you say to that? Will you do it?”
“Yes,” he sighed wearily. “To undo the great impropriety inflicted upon Heather because of your wretched carelessness, woman, I must. I lament the day I allowed you to take her under your roof. You should have guarded more carefully this priceless gem.” His angry gaze turned to Uncle John who sat very quietly in his shame. “And you who are of the same blood are worthless in my eyes. You disgust me.”
“Well, what about her?” Aunt Fanny cried. “It was her doing. She was the one who crawled into bed with the bloke.”
“No!” Heather gasped.
The involuntary denial escaped her before she realized she had spoken. With a growl, Aunt Fanny turned and viciously slapped Heather across the face, hitting her so hard the soft, bottom lip was bloodied and her cheek bruised.
In the darkness behind Heather a tankard of ale was slammed down on a table in rage. Before her, Heather saw through tears of pain that Lord Hampton had leapt to his feet. He leaned forward and planted his hands firmly on the table and spoke threateningly to her aunt.
“Madam, your actions are of the vilest nature! You have the manners of a barbarian, and were you a man, I’d surely demand satisfaction for what you have just done. Now I think it best that Heather go back to bed. It is clear she is upset with the whole matter.”
Thinking herself dismissed, Heather rose from the chair and made to walk to the door, but her aunt snatched her by the front of the dress and snarled.
“No! For once she’s going to stand and take her due. No decent girl would get herself in trouble with a man. I’ve tried to do my best to put the fear of God in her, but she’s the devil’s handmaiden. Just look at what he give her.”
Ruthlessly Fanny ripped the old garment from Heather’s back in one cruel, brutal swipe, leaving for all to see the beauty of her body.
In the shadows a chair was overturned as Captain Birmingham came angrily to his feet. He strode across the room in long, irate strides, and Fanny fell back, seeing the tall form swathed in a black cloak and the angry face red in the glow of the fire. Her eyes widened and her feet were frozen to the floor. She recalled accusing Heather of being born a witch and was sure that this man before her was Satan incarnate. She threw up her hands as if to defend herself, but instead the Yankee whipped the rain moistened cloak from his shoulders and dragged it around Heather as she tried desperately to hide her nakedness. He enfolded her quaking slightness in the flowing garment, making Heather tremble more violently with fright. The proximity of his long, muscular body was terror in itself.
Above her dark head, a muscle twitched furiously in Brandon’s cheek as his angry glare took in the three startled people staring at him.
“Enough of this useless prattle,” he demanded coldly. “Since the girl carries my child, her livelihood will be my responsibility. I will delay my trip home to see that Heather is comfortably settled in a house of her own with servants to care for her.” He looked at Lord Hampton. “You have my guarantee that she and the child will be supported in a manner suitable to her upbringing. It is certain she must no longer live with her kinsfolk, nor would I allow my child to be subjected to the malice of this woman who calls herself an aunt. I had planned for this to be my last voyage here, but under the circumstances I will continue coming every year so that I may see to their welfare. Tomorrow morning I will set about finding suitable accommodations for the girl, then later I will return here for her and take her to a clothier’s so she may be aptly dressed. Now, sir, I wish to get back to my ship. If you have more to say to these people, I will wait in your carriage until you have concluded your business.” He turned his gaze directly to Aunt Fanny and spoke dangerously slow and precisely. “I suggest, madam, that you keep your hands to yourself while this girl is still in your care or you will greatly wish that you had.”
With that, he walked from them to the door, and Heather caught a glimpse of his angry, aristocratic profile and tall, lean body elegantly clothed in deep red velvet, then he was gone with only a pledge to sustain his bastard child and its mother. No one had even brought the subject of marriage to his consideration. He was going to make her a kept woman.
“He won’t be so high and mighty when we finish with him,” Aunt Fanny sneered.
Lord Hampton looked at her with cold eyes. “It is with considerable distaste that I must appear to satisfy your vengeful whim,” he ground out flatly. “If not for Heather, I would put the matter from me and have done with it. But I must, for her sake, bring this man to the altar. But you are to be warned, madam, the man has a temper. You will do well to heed his words.”
“He has no right to tell me how to treat the girl.”
“You are wrong there, madam,” he replied slowly. “He is the father of her babe and in a few hours he will be her husband.”
Chapter 3
The sun came in rays of sparkling light through the water-speckled windows and touched on Heather’s face to awaken her. She stirred in half awakened ecstasy and stretched and rolled over, snuggling deeper into the downy bed as she hugged a pillow to her. She had been dreaming she was again in the home of her father. Now a soft, rain-sweetened breeze flirted with a curtain where a window had been left ajar and drifted to the bed to caress her cheek. Heather inhaled deeply and released her breath with a grateful sigh. The usual morning queasiness was in absence, letting her enjoy the smell of autumn in the air. She opened her eyes, then sat up with a start.
Captain Birmingham’s cloak was slung over the back of a chair near the bed, and it sent her thoughts racing with a fleetness that only fear could provoke.
“The arrogant fool!” she hissed with venom. “Does he think he can put me in a house of his procuring and make me his mistress? I’ll whelp in the gutter before I accept his half-witted proposal!”
Even now, she thought shrewishly, he’s probably thinking how tender it will be when he takes me to the house and carries me to the bedchamber. He will think me grateful for his generosity and that I will submit to him accordingly. I would be no better than a harlot! No! Rather that I slit my throat from ear to ear than let him make me his mistress. He cannot touch my belly with his vile hands and know his bastard son grows within me! No! Never will I submit to him in that way!
But what would happen to her if they forced him to marry her, she wondered frantically. She would have to yield to him then and obey him. And he would not be so gentle when full of rage.
“Oh, pray that he doesn’t hurt me too much,” she uttered, a shudder of fright passing through her body.
A moment later there came a knock on the door, and rather than wear his hated cloak again, she tore the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her body, flipping the end over her shoulder. So garmented, she opened the door and fou
nd a gray-haired woman standing in the doorway and behind her, two girls of an age no more than herself, carrying an assortment of cases.
“Maid Heather,” the older woman said with a smile. “I’m Mrs. Todd and these two girls are my assistants. We’ve come from Lord Hampton, and be here to fix you for your wedding.”
Something cold and fearful gripped Heather’s heart and sent a shivery spasm through her body. She clung to a nearby chair for support, fearing her knees would give way. Mrs. Todd noticed nothing of her pallor or her shaking hands. She was too busy ushering the two girls in with their cases.
“Have you eaten this morning, love?” she asked, turning to Heather at last.
Heather shook her head. “No,” she whispered.
“Oh, well, don’t you worry about a thing, love. I’ll send one of the girls down to fetch breakfast. We’d not have you fainting from hunger when the betrothals are being said, would we? And we do have a lot to do ‘til then. You’ll be needing your strength, slight lass that you are.”
“When will the wedding be?” Heather managed to ask.
The woman showed no surprise at the strange question asked by the young bride. “This afternoon, love.”
Heather slithered into a chair with a weak, “Oh.”
“Someone should have told you, love, but with everything so rushed I can see how they forgot to. His lordship says the groom is anxious to wed and will not brook a delay. Most certainly I can see his reason for impatience. Such a beauty you are, love.”
But Heather wasn’t listening. Her imagination was already sweeping her to the coming night when she would lie beside Captain Birmingham and feel his panting breath against her mouth and his strong, ruthless hands upon her body. Her face burned at the thought. He would not care how he bruised her, and she wondered if she would be able to still her trembling body and not anger him more by struggling.
She jumped from the chair in a quick, nervous movement and went to the window, fearing that she would not be able to. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip as she felt the tension begin to mount. She had hoped for more time. She hadn’t dreamed they would force the marriage so soon. How could she possibly go to him now calmly and let him do with her what he might?
The Flame and the Flower Page 9