by Cheryl Holt
“But…but…Mr. Sinclair and Lord Selby have been fighting. Surely the agreement wouldn’t continue under those circumstances.”
“Those two boys have always fought,” Florence insisted. “Their bickering is notorious too, so it’s written about in the newspapers as well, but they always make up.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You’ve been imprudent enough, Nell. Don’t compound your folly by refusing to listen to me. If Lord Selby showered you with attention, it was for a physical dalliance, and you have completely misconstrued his motives.”
“So you say…” Nell muttered.
“You are so deluded.” Florence rose and walked to the door. “Stay up here for the rest of the day. I’d rather not fuss with you again until tomorrow.”
“Yes, I will stay here,” Nell forced out.
“I’ll be back at ten o’clock in the morning. I’ll expect your answer then. Will it be the unwed mother’s home and the convent? Or will Mr. Middleton find you a husband? The choice is yours.”
She departed, and Nell tarried in the window seat. She might have been turned to stone. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
Lord Selby was engaged? To Sir Sidney’s daughter? Could it be?
Well, of course…
Of course he would be betrothed to his mentor’s daughter. Of course he would select a girl like that. He was thirty and an earl, and he needed to start filling his nursery. Of course he’d be racing toward matrimony, his bachelorhood ending.
Nell was so far beneath him that she was surprised he could see her from his lofty perch. He would never have picked her for any role but trollop. And hadn’t she played her part with gusto and verve?
What must he have thought of her? That she was dim-witted? That she was incredibly naive? Had it been humorous to trick her, to hurt her?
Yet she couldn’t convince herself that he’d deliberately deceived her. She’d assumed she knew him, that she understood him, but how could she have been so wrong? Then again, what did she know about men? What did she know about anything?
Her stomach gurgled, and a wave of nausea surged up. She leapt to the floor, pulled the chamber pot from under the bed, and vomited over and over and over until there was nothing left.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nathan strolled into the foyer at Selby Manor and tossed his gloves to a footman.
“I’ll be in my library. Send Mr. Dobbs to me.”
He should have proceeded to his room, should have bathed and changed and napped, but he was on edge and ready to make some changes. They couldn’t wait.
The entire trip to Scotland, he’d thought about what sort of future he wanted. Ever since he was ten, he’d been traveling with Sir Sidney who’d dragged him away from his horrid relatives. He need only look at Percy and Trevor to realize how lucky he’d been to escape his aunt and grandfather.
If Sir Sidney hadn’t rescued him, he’d probably have grown up to be just like them: weak, spoiled, angry, unhappy. There was hope for Trevor. The boy might turn out all right in the end, but Percy was likely doomed.
Nathan wasn’t going back to Africa. It was such a stunning development that he still couldn’t fathom it, but with Sir Sidney being dead, it would never be the same. He could have mustered his own expedition, but the thrill of those heady days had vanished with Sir Sidney’s demise.
So…he was in England to stay, and Selby was his home. He had to settle down and find a way to be content, but contentment was always so hard to achieve.
Before he could start down the hall, the front doors opened behind him. He glanced over, madly expecting Nell to waltz in and being severely disappointed to see that it was just another footman.
Nathan had loved having her around and underfoot, and he hated how they’d been forced to part—abruptly and with no warning and with Mrs. Middleton chastising him for being a scoundrel.
He wondered if Nell would ever forgive him for seducing her, then letting her leave. He could have stopped her, and he nearly had, but he’d managed to come to his senses so he didn’t completely ruin her life.
While he felt desperately attached to her, the truth was that they barely knew each other. It would have been cruel to yank her away from the Middletons, to destroy the sole security she possessed. If he’d coerced her into tarrying, he was sure—in a few weeks—he’d have been bored with her and eager to move on. Then where would she have been?
No, it would have been spiteful to coax her away from the Middletons. It would have been a selfish, malicious act. By allowing her departure, he’d saved her, had protected her. He’d done the sane thing, the honorable thing, and he wouldn’t rue or regret.
He hurried to his library, and he paused at the sideboard to pour himself a tall brandy, then he went and sat at the desk. It was late afternoon, the house quiet, no servants passing by. The air was charged with energy, the calm before the storm, as if everyone was hunkered down, the first bolt of lightning about to strike.
Shortly, Dobbs entered and marched over.
“I just heard you were back,” he said. “I apologize for not being present to welcome you.”
“I imagine I’ll survive.”
Nathan waved to the chair across from him. “Sit, Dobbs, so I don’t have to strain my neck staring up at you.”
“I’d rather not. I’d feel odd about it.”
“Suit yourself.” Nathan sipped his liquor, pondering, confused over what his path should be. Finally, he said, “I’ll be making some changes.”
A lengthy interval spun out, then Dobbs asked, “Will I be retiring?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“I must inform you that your aunt fired me while you were away, but I refused to accept her edict. I told her I would proceed according to your wishes.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“I began as a houseboy when I was five, so it’s been forty-five years now.”
Forty-five years…
“What was her reason for firing you?” he asked.
“We quarreled—over you, my lord.”
“I suppose you were on my side and she was on the other.”
“Yes.”
“It’s nice to have at least one ally in the manor.”
“Every servant is your servant, my lord. We’re all your allies.”
“I guess we’ll see in the coming days.” He suddenly announced, “Trevor has married Susan Middleton.”
“You arrived too late to prevent it?”
“No, I arrived in plenty of time, but I didn’t intervene. I didn’t really care one way or the other, and he seemed very determined about it. I didn’t think I should make such a huge choice for him.”
“I hope he’ll be happy, my lord. Master Trevor is a bit of a romantic. I can’t predict if matrimony will meet with his expectations.”
“Again, I guess we’ll see how it washes out. I gave them some money so they could travel to Edinburgh and have a honeymoon.”
“That was kind of you.”
“They’ll be returning in a fortnight, and they’ll be living with me at Selby.”
Dobbs’s brows flew up; he couldn’t conceal his reaction. “If I may be so bold as to comment, my lord, that will be an interesting arrangement.”
“You have always been a master of understatement, Dobbs. Is Percy at home?”
“No, he’s been in London ever since the elopement was discovered. He was quite distraught over the news.”
“I can certainly appreciate his position. The loss of that dowry must have been devastating. Is my aunt here?”
“She’s never anywhere else, is she?”
“Before I left for Scotland,” Nathan said, “I advised you that you and I were due to have an important conversation, and I’m ready to have it. Would you like to tell me if you knew about my sisters?”
Dobbs sighed. “I knew.”
“And you never mentioned them to me…why?”
“What was the point? Th
ey were gone, and you’d forgotten about them.”
Nathan scowled. “I didn’t forget. I was convinced that I didn’t remember.”
“Yes, I believe that’s a valid assessment.”
“I’m very disturbed by your role in this,” Nathan told him.
Dobbs peered down at the floor. “I cannot sufficiently apologize, so I will not waste my breath. Any justifications would ring hollow.”
“I agree.”
“I have something for you,” Dobbs said.
He opened his coat and pulled out a stack of letters tied with a ribbon. He put them on the desk. Nathan riffled through them, seeing that they were from his father and Grandfather. There was also one from a Mr. Thomas Robertson.
“Where did you get these?” Nathan asked.
“Your aunt retrieved them from the attic. She burned several documents before I spirited the rest away. It’s why we were quarreling, and she’s aware that I intended to apprise you.”
“Will these letters provide any clues as to how I can find my sisters?”
“I haven’t read them,” Dobbs said.
Nathan glared at Dobbs forever. Could he fire the man? Could he push him into retirement? He’d have to debate it later on. He had bigger issues to unravel than to revenge himself on an elderly retainer who’d always been kind.
“Give me a half hour to look at these,” he said, “then bring my aunt to me. Don’t let her decline to attend me.”
“I will tell her, and if I might inquire, my lord, am I terminated?”
“Not today.”
Dobbs shuddered with such relief that Nathan figured he’d never be able to punish him. And did it matter? Dobbs’s only crime was to keep his lord’s secret. Shouldn’t that sort of loyalty be rewarded?
“You’re excused,” Nathan said.
Dobbs nodded, but he was so overwhelmed that Nathan worried he might start to weep.
“You’re excused, Dobbs,” he repeated. “Now go—please—before this grows maudlin.”
“Thank you, my lord. As ever, I am your most devoted servant.”
He bowed so low that Nathan couldn’t imagine how he’d ever straighten. He managed it though and walked out, shoulders back, head high.
Nathan watched him depart, then began perusing the letters, one after the next. They detailed an escalating spat between his father and grandfather: how his father wouldn’t obey Godwin, how he was a sinner who’d be damned because of his licentious ways.
Godwin had loathed his father’s mistress, Mary Carter, and had called her a mercenary whore who’d gotten with child simply to glom onto his money. He’d sworn to drown the twins in the Thames so they couldn’t wring a single farthing out of his fat purse. What must Nathan’s father had thought of the threat? What type of grandfather considered such murderous conduct against his granddaughters—be they bastard or not?
Nathan tsked with affront. No wonder he was so screwed up in his mind. No wonder he’d constantly traveled the world rather than dawdle at home.
The final note was from Mr. Robertson who was the proprietor of an orphanage in London. He’d written to state that Sarah had arrived safely and that her health was improving, and he’d enclosed a bill for her first year’s lodging. Nathan was confused by the news that only Sarah had been delivered. What had happened to Rebecca?
As he was brooding over it, Edwina strutted in and instantly seized the offensive. “I have fired Dobbs, but he won’t vacate the premises. He insists that you have to order it and that I have no authority over him. I expect you will support me in this. Immediately.”
“I’m not firing Dobbs.” She was hovering across the room, and he motioned for her to take a seat. “Sit down, Edwina.”
She sniffed with irritation and nearly stomped out, but didn’t. She marched over and sat as he’d demanded.
“Don’t tell me what occurred in Scotland,” she said. “I don’t wish to know.”
“Trevor and Susan are married, and they’ve journeyed on to Edinburgh for a honeymoon.”
“I told you I don’t want to hear about it!”
“Yes, well, I decided you should be informed anyway.”
“I refuse to acknowledge their folly, and I won’t pretend all is fine.”
“They’re coming here after they’ve finished celebrating.”
“They will live in this house over my dead body!” she vehemently raged.
“I’ll plan you a very nice funeral,” he blithely retorted.
“I should not have to reside with them!”
“I was thinking the same.”
“Where will you send them then?”
“I’ll be sending you away,” he advised her.
She gaped at him as if he’d spoken in a foreign language she didn’t comprehend. “What did you say?”
“I’d like Trevor to be happy for a change, so you will be leaving.”
“To where?” she huffed. “Selby is my home. It’s been my home since I was sixteen and wed your uncle.”
“I realize that, but it’s time for you to move.”
“Absolutely not. I paid the price that should entitle me to stay forever. I tolerated your grandfather for decades, and I nursed him through his last illness. I was the most dutiful daughter-in-law in history, and this—this!—is my reward?”
“Where are my sisters?” he asked.
“You have no sisters,” she had the nerve to reply.
He rolled his eyes. “Stop playing games with me. If you’re frank with me about what you recollect, I will buy you a house in London and supply you with an allowance with which to cover your expenses. But if you continue to antagonize me, I swear I will set your bags out in the drive and bid you good riddance.”
“You wouldn’t!” she seethed.
“I would.”
She fumed and stewed, then charged, “You are your grandfather’s heir after all.”
“If by your comment, you mean I can be ruthless and cruel, then yes, I am just like him.” He waved the letters at her. “Give over, Edwina. I know Sarah, at least, was sent to an orphanage in London. Tell me the how and why of it, but also, what about Rebecca? Why wasn’t she sent there too?”
Her mind was whirring as she struggled to deduce the best course. She’d be eager to paint herself in a positive light, as the blameless victim, and when she opened her mouth to begin, she proved him right.
“It was all your grandfather’s idea,” she said. “He ordered me to do it.”
“To do what? Spit it out so we need only discuss it this once.”
“Your father’s paramour, Mary Carter, was a greedy harlot who was trying to get her hands on our money.”
Nathan sighed and shook his head. “I remember her, Edwina. For most of my life, I thought she was my mother, and my father appeared to have loved her very much. Don’t spin a ridiculous version of this. I won’t believe it.”
“When Matthew died”—Matthew was Nathan’s father—“your grandfather had me travel to town to shut down his house and deal with the mess he’d left behind.”
“The mess being his three children?”
“Yes. Godwin wouldn’t permit me to bring the twins here. I told him he should, but he refused, and I couldn’t dissuade him, so I contacted Mary’s relatives. A cousin came for them.”
“What cousin?”
“Her name was Beatrice Carter—and a more unpleasant shrew I have never encountered.”
Considering Edwina’s awful personality, that was certainly the pot calling the kettle black, but he asked, “Why didn’t you like her?”
“She was completely uncooperative. I tried to persuade her that it was a family tragedy—on both sides—and the Carters should help to guide the twins through it, but she wouldn’t listen. On the day she arrived, Sarah was sickly, and she wouldn’t take her. She would only take Rebecca.”
“You split them up?”
“I couldn’t force Mrs. Carter, could I? I had no authority to compel her behavior, but what was I
to do with a sickly, bastard girl?”
“What indeed?” Nathan mused.
The question hung between them, and he studied Edwina, wondering if she was capable of feeling shame or remorse, but if any guilt was bubbling in her, there was no sign of it.
“Over the years,” he asked, “have you received any news about them?”
“No. Why would there have been news? You’re mad if you suppose we had a continuing obligation.”
“Have you ever worried about them? And if you can’t admit to being worried, can you admit to being curious?”
“No.” She looked confused, as if there was a trick or a riddle hidden in his remark.
“Was Beatrice Carter from London?” he inquired.
“I recall her being from Dover—or it might have been some other coastal city.” A pause settled in, and as Nathan reflected on what other information he might coerce her into providing, she asked, “Will that be all? May I be excused?”
“In a minute. I’d like you to tell me what should be done with you. I’d like to hear your opinion.”
“What should be done? I’m your aunt. I’ve run your home for you for two decades. I raised you as if I were your mother. I constantly tried my best, and you shall not do anything to me.”
Nathan ignored her. “I’ll rent lodging for you in town immediately, and I should have it in place by next week. Then I’ll shop for a house to purchase so you can have a more permanent address.”
“You can’t toss me out! Stop being such a nuisance.”
“I’ll find a large enough residence that Percy can live with you. I can’t have him at Selby. Not with Trevor joining me.”
“You will not kick Percy out! He’s the innocent party in all of this. Trevor is the one who should be punished. Not Percy!”
“Percy’s never here much anyway, and I don’t want him back.”
Rage mottled her features. “You can’t treat us this way. You can’t!”
“You don’t have a choice, Edwina. By your actions against my sisters—actions you had to have realized would have crushed my father—you’ve squandered any respect I might have possessed for you. Not only were they imperiled because of you, but you lied to me so I wouldn’t remember.”
