by Olivia Drake
Wymark pulled a sour face. “Surely my sister wasn’t begging.”
“Seeking donations for a worthy cause is far from sordid,” Natalie said sharply. “And your sister is to be commended for her dedication to helping the poor. Since I had connections in local society, I offered to help Audrey collect the necessary funds. She and I became fast friends. Even when she moved away, we kept in touch by mail. When she wrote two years ago to ask me to join them on the western frontier, I … welcomed the chance.”
Natalie had to stop herself from admitting precisely why she’d been so eager to leave Philadelphia. Her own confession of woe had no place in a tale about Audrey.
Lady Godwin curled her lip. “The frontier? Are you suggesting that my stepdaughter lived among the savages?”
“There were native tribes in the area, yes,” Natalie said coolly. “But they were friendly and we often bartered with them for wild game and cured hides. There were also a few farmers, as well, who had cleared the land to grow crops. The mission itself was a small settlement named Bellingham by the locals. It was enclosed by sturdy log walls, with a small church and a school inside the compound. I taught reading and arithmetic lessons to the children, while Audrey tended to the sick. She had a gift for healing, did you know that?”
Everyone else looked blank, but a slight smile lifted one corner of the duke’s mouth. “She used to doctor her dolls in the nursery, as I recall. And if I ever so much as scraped a knee, she would insist upon playing nurse with all of her ointments and bandages.”
Natalie caught herself smiling back, albeit only briefly. Once again, she felt the tug of that peculiar connection with him as if they understood each other on a deep, fundamental level. But it made no sense. Given her steadfast belief in equality, she could have nothing in common with an English duke. And surely at the grand old age of six-and-twenty, she was too prudent to be susceptible to a handsome face.
She went on. “Audrey studied medical textbooks and learned herbal remedies. She had a gentle way with people, especially those who were badly injured. I daresay she was part of the reason why settlers flocked to Bellingham. They felt welcome and safe there. Though we’d heard tales of skirmishes elsewhere during the recent war, it was a quiet and peaceful spot. At least until … one afternoon last August.”
Natalie glanced away, fisting her fingers in her lap. Everything in her rebelled at the prospect of describing that event. She could still hear the screams and smell the blood and smoke. The mere thought of it chilled her to the bone.
“What then?” Wymark prompted, looking morbidly fascinated. “Pray go on, Miss Fanshawe.”
Though she drew a ragged breath, it still took an effort to force out the words. “The gates were open … as they usually were during the day. We were accustomed to people going in and out, traders and farmers, locals we knew. But on that particular afternoon, a small group of strangers rode into the compound. One of them … shot Jeremy dead on the steps of the church. The others began to swing their swords, cutting down everyone in their path, chasing after those who tried to run, farmers, natives, children … and Audrey.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing the awful scene she’d witnessed from the schoolhouse window was not so vividly etched into her mind. She had tried to bury it, yet it still caused her nightmares.
Lady Godwin moaned. Her complexion was pale, her eyes rounded with fright. “Poor, dear Audrey! I always feared she would be killed by savages!”
“They were savages, all right,” Natalie said in a grating tone. “And they wore the red coats of the British infantry.”
The Duke of Clayton gave a start of shock. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Though from the ragtag condition of their garb, they might have been renegades, separated from their unit.”
“Bah, I don’t believe it,” Wymark said, setting his glass with a click onto a side table. “Our troops are too civilized to attack women and children, let alone preachers and farmers.”
Natalie stared him down. “Then you do not understand the reality of war, sir. As Americans, we were the enemy. So were the native people who had made a treaty with us. And enemies are to be slain.”
She firmed her lips to keep from berating him further. Perhaps it was unkind of her to speak so bluntly to these pampered aristocrats. They hadn’t ordered the attack. Besides, she herself had been somewhat pampered at one time. She hadn’t known then the evil that could lurk in the hearts of men.
Lord Godwin bestirred himself to say gruffly, “Where were you when this attack occurred, Miss Fanshawe? Why are you alive to tell the tale?”
“I was teaching a class in the schoolhouse when gunfire rang out. When I ran to the window and saw the bloody scene unfold, I knew I had to protect my students from harm. They were all little ones, none more than seven or eight years old. I hid them in a shed by the back fence, and strove to keep them quiet lest they be slaughtered like the others.”
“Ohh,” Lady Godwin whimpered. “This is too much! I cannot bear to hear of such violence. Richard, do fetch my hartshorn from the drawer.”
Wymark dutifully arose and went to a cabinet, bringing back a small blue bottle, which he uncorked and waved under his mother’s nose. Taking it from him, she alternated between sniffing the restorative and fanning her face with the lacy handkerchief.
“I forbid you to speak another word, Miss Fanshawe,” the earl growled. “I will not have you distressing my wife in this manner. She is gently bred and not accustomed to such brutality!”
“You will hear out Miss Fanshawe,” Clayton countered in an imposing tone. “She has more to say, though I hope perhaps we are past the worst of it.”
He turned his intent gaze to her, as if to warn her to speak with care.
Natalie gave a small nod. She could understand his concern. They hadn’t heard the worst, but her throat felt too taut to describe the carnage in detail, to articulate what had happened to her, or to relate her frantic attempt to stop the bleeding from the saber slash across her friend’s abdomen.
Deathly pale, Audrey had opened her eyes. “It’s too late for me … promise you’ll take Leo to England where he’ll be safe…”
Pulling herself back to the present, Natalie drew a long breath and released it. “Fortunately, several people had guns and were able to fight back. Perhaps half the settlement survived.” She focused her attention on the earl, adding, “Including your grandson, Leo.”
Lord Godwin’s only reaction was to tighten his lips. But she was certain he did not look surprised. He had known.
“Grandson?” his wife repeated in a sharp tone that belied her show of debilitating weakness. She sat up straight in her chair, the hartshorn lying forgotten in her lap. “What do you mean? Surely you cannot be referring to that … that urchin!”
“That urchin is Leopold Jeremy Bellingham. He is six years old, and was Audrey’s only child.” Natalie returned her attention to the earl. “So you see, Lord Godwin, why I felt compelled to make this long journey. It was Audrey’s dying wish that I bring Leo to England to live with his family. I wrote to you twice about the matter, yet you never replied. Did you receive those letters?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. His gaze flickered as if he resented being forced to admit the truth. “One,” he said, “a fortnight ago. I had not yet decided how to respond.”
Which meant he had put it into a drawer and ignored it.
Natalie felt a flare of anger that he could treat the blessed news of a grandson so cavalierly. It was unthinkable that he would carry a grudge against his estranged daughter so far. But giving the man a tongue-lashing would only stir more resentment in him. Her primary concern had to be Leo.
“Well, it seems that now you shall have to decide,” she said evenly. “Leo is your own flesh and blood, after all. When Audrey died, the feud surely died with her. Whatever happened between the two of you ten years ago should have no bearing on the current circumstances.”
“I will not be di
ctated to by a stranger in my house,” he blustered. “This is a private family matter.”
“I’m sure Miss Fanshawe means no offense,” the duke said smoothly. “But you must allow, she has a point. You’ve a duty to rear the lad in accordance with his status as the grandson of a peer. You would not wish it to be known in society that you’d failed to see to his care and schooling.”
The two men stared at one another. At least until Godwin blinked.
“Miss Fanshawe and the boy may stay in the nursery for the time being. However, she ought to have waited for my invitation rather than come here without permission.”
“She had a vow to fulfill to Audrey,” the duke stated. “And I for one believe it is an admirable trait to keep one’s promises.”
Natalie silently thanked him again for his support. It made her feel not quite so alone in this den of vipers. He appeared to have a good deal of influence over his father’s cousin, despite the difference in their ages. Was it because a duke outranked an earl? If only she understood more about their antiquated class system!
Lord Wymark had been sitting in his chair, watching and listening. Now he leaned forward and said, “I presume, Miss Fanshawe, that you have the proper documentation to prove the child’s parentage.”
“His baptismal record unfortunately was destroyed when the attackers set fire to the church. However, I have an affidavit confirming Leo’s identity that is signed by several members of Congress. It enabled me to obtain his travel papers.”
“That seems highly irregular,” Wymark said, one eyebrow lifting. “Why would these men vouch for him? Did they know Audrey and Jeremy?”
She shook her head. “Rather, they know me. You see, my father was a senator from Pennsylvania until shortly before his death two years ago. I often served as his hostess at parties in Washington and Philadelphia.” She arose from her chair and surveyed the party. “The papers are in my valise. Shall I fetch them?”
“Later,” Lord Godwin barked, with a dismissing wave of his hand. “Bring them to my study after luncheon. You may go look after the boy now.”
* * *
Hadrian watched as a footman led Miss Fanshawe out of the drawing room. Slim and graceful, she walked with her head held high. Her blend of natural elegance and candid manner captivated him more than it ought. One would never guess from looking at her that she’d survived a horrific massacre—and at the hands of British soldiers.
He suspected there was more to the ugly tale than she’d let on. The hint of torment in her eyes had spoken volumes. The story had left him feeling both sickened and oddly discomfited. Despite the pride he’d always taken in his rank, her experiences made his comfortable life seem … inconsequential. And it was sobering to reflect that he’d voted in Parliament to fund the war that had resulted in Audrey’s death. He’d always shared the Englishman’s contempt for the former colonies for having had the cheek to launch a successful revolt against their mother country nearly forty years ago.
But now he found himself curious to learn more about these Americans and their way of thinking. Miss Fanshawe, in particular.
The moment the woman disappeared from sight, the countess addressed her husband in a hissing tone. “Why did you not tell me of this letter, Archie? Why did you keep it a secret?”
Godwin shifted in his chair to pat her hand. “I didn’t wish to burden you when I knew nothing about Miss Fanshawe. I’d intended to hire a man to look into the matter next week when we go to London. I’d have told you eventually, of course.”
“I’m inclined to share your caution, Father,” Wymark said as he unfolded his wiry frame from the chair and fetched himself another brandy. “For all we know, Miss Fanshawe may be a trickster.”
Hadrian pivoted toward him. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?” he snapped. “You heard what she had to say. She clearly knew Audrey.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But perhaps when Audrey was killed, Miss Fanshawe saw her opportunity. Perhaps that is when she devised a hoax.” Wymark sipped his brandy, his blue eyes narrowed. “Having learned of my sister’s noble connections, Miss Fanshawe may have decided to obtain forged papers, pass off her own son as Audrey’s child, and then live the good life on my father’s benevolence.”
Lady Godwin gripped the padded gold arms of her chair. “Then she may very well be an adventuress angling for a portion of your inheritance!”
Hadrian listened to them first in incredulity, then in anger. He was ashamed to admit that that very suspicion had flitted through his own mind in the post chaise, when he’d first learned her story. But it had swiftly dissipated upon his assessment of her frank nature and, strangely, her disdain for the nobility. She struck him as too open and forthright to be a deceiver.
“This is preposterous,” he said, frowning at each of them in turn. “You’re casting slurs on the woman’s character without a shred of evidence. She was your daughter’s friend. Kindly remember she is a guest in this house.”
“Clayton is right,” the earl concurred. “We mustn’t leap to conclusions. Nevertheless, I cannot simply raise a strange child without the proper legal proof that he is my kin.”
“If indeed she is practicing deceit, you mustn’t allow them to stay even a moment under this roof,” his wife said. “You must send them away at once!”
“There is no reason for such hysteria,” Hadrian said testily. “Miss Fanshawe poses no threat to anyone here. As for the boy, you’ve only to look at him to see the family resemblance. If it makes you feel more easy, I shall talk to Leo myself and see what he has to say about his mother.”
“Miss Fanshawe may have coached him,” Wymark warned. “I never knew you to be so trusting, Clayton.”
“Nor you so cruel, cousin.”
At that sullen look, Hadrian had a suspicion as to what was going on. Wymark must be deep in debt again and anxious to bleed his father’s bank account. He coveted every penny he could squeeze out of stingy Godwin, and another claimant on the family fortune would only reduce Wymark’s share.
The earl rose to his feet. “I’ll summon my solicitor from London. He can examine the papers and pass judgment on their veracity. In the meantime, I will of course permit Miss Fanshawe and the boy to remain here.”
“Leo,” Hadrian said. “His name is Leo.”
The earl gave a conciliatory nod. “Leo, of course. Though it’s a pity this disruption should coincide with your visit. I cannot pretend to be happy about having to deal with a distraction at such a time.”
“I must concur,” Lady Godwin said. “Your Grace, you will be anxious to renew your acquaintance with dear Ellen. We mustn’t allow any interruptions to spoil your stay. Ah, there she is now.”
A movement drew Hadrian’s gaze to the doorway of the drawing room. The slender young lady who hovered there brought to mind a shy goldfinch. Gowned in pale yellow muslin, with guinea-gold curls framing her dainty features, she exuded a fresh, winsome beauty.
A proud smile brightened Lady Godwin’s face. Rising, she motioned her daughter into the room. “Come, my darling, make your curtsy to His Grace.”
The girl dutifully glided forward and did a pretty genuflection. Large blue eyes peeped up at him before her lashes dipped modestly downward again. In a rehearsed manner, she chirped, “Good day, Your Grace. We are very happy that you’ve honored us with a visit.”
So this was Lady Ellen.
The last time he’d seen her, she had been a flat-chested sprite of twelve who’d known how to wind her papa around her little finger. Hadrian had accompanied the family to a fair in Whitnash, where she had wheedled pennies from Godwin for ices, cavorted around a maypole, and giggled at a puppet show.
She had grown up in the intervening six years, her figure filling out in all the right places. Nevertheless, he felt like a lecher when he flicked a furtive look at her shapely bosom. His discomfiture had to be due to the fact that she was his second cousin, and that he’d known her as a little girl. Surely his qualms would pas
s as he and Lady Ellen became reacquainted as adults.
He sat down with her on the chaise. As her parents beamed at them, he felt as if he were a prize stallion being presented with a mare. “It’s been a long time since last we met, Lady Ellen. Tell me, do you still laugh at Punch and Judy?”
She tucked her chin, affording him a timid glance from beneath her lashes. “Oh no, Your Grace. I’ve become quite dull, I’m afraid.”
“Rather, you’ve learned proper behavior,” her mother corrected. “You’ve become the perfect young lady.”
“You do appear admirably ready to face the ton,” Hadrian said to the girl. “The gentlemen will be thronging around you, vying for one of your lovely smiles.”
The smile immediately vanished. “Me?” she squeaked. “But … I’m just a rustic, fresh out of the schoolroom. I wouldn’t know what to say to them … or even to you.”
He took her dainty hand and patted it. “There’s nothing to fear. Just talk about whatever you like. They’ll find you to be charming.”
“I hope that you find her charming, too,” Lady Godwin said leadingly.
He inclined his head in a polite nod. “I look forward to spending time with my cousin this week. We’ve much catching up to do.”
So why the devil did he feel more like an older brother than a suitor?
Lady Ellen fit all of his requirements for the perfect wife. In appearance, she was a beauty with that glossy blond hair, the huge blue eyes, the delicate features. Her ancestry was impeccable, hailing as she did from a long, distinguished line of nobility. And he was twenty-nine to her eighteen, an ideal gap to ensure he was ready to settle down, while she was young enough to bear him healthy sons and to learn how to oversee the large households on his five properties.
