by Cheryl Holt
“Could I meet these children too?” she inquired.
“No.” He shook his head quite vigorously. “You can’t tell anyone either. It’s a terrible secret, and I don’t want it to spread, especially with the inquest coming. We can’t tarnish Sir Sidney’s reputation.”
“I never would.”
She was wishing she hadn’t gotten into the carriage with him. Obviously, there was some information a person shouldn’t ever discover. Wouldn’t it have been better to not know about her father’s proclivities? Now that she’d been apprised, it had changed her whole outlook.
“I hate to rush you,” he said, “but I’m running late.”
“There is one other thing.”
“What is it?”
“Next time you go to Africa, could I go too? I’ve been waiting to ask you. Father refused to consider it, but I’ve been sure you’d feel differently. Will you think about it?”
He gaped at her, then rudely scoffed. “No, Ophelia, it’s out of the question.”
Her heart sank to her toes. “Must you decline immediately? Couldn’t you ponder for awhile?”
“I don’t have to ponder. I’m sorry, but Africa is not like you envision it to be. And you will not ever go.” Like a death knell, he added, “Not. Ever.”
She was so disappointed that he might have stabbed her with a knife.
“Yes, yes, that’s fine.” She was crushed and babbling like a fool. “I apologize for delaying you.”
She feared she might burst into tears, and she slid away and scrambled out. She raced to the house.
“Ophelia!” he called.
But she didn’t stop, didn’t turn around, and didn’t answer him.
* * * *
“Tell her it’s to be Thursday or Friday.”
“Can you be more precise?”
“No. Escrow will close when the papers are signed—and not a minute before.”
Temperance nodded at her husband, Cuthbert. It was wiser to agree than to argue. He was the man of the family, and she was his wife. She’d vowed to obey, and that definitely included the burden of not annoying him, despite how she might yearn to.
“It will be nice to settle some of our debts,” she said, trying to sound more supportive.
He smirked. “We’re not paying off any debts.”
“Then why sell the orphanage? I thought that’s why we needed the money—to catch up on our arrears.”
“We will catch up—eventually—but I have an image to maintain. I can hardly traipse about town looking like a pauper. A gentleman must have funds.”
“Oh, right,” she murmured, but she was incredibly confused.
When she’d convinced her father to bequeath his assets to Cuthbert—rather than place them in a trust—she’d truly believed it was for the best. A man should run things. A man should be in charge. It was how the world worked.
She and Sarah had no head for finances, but then, as Temperance had learned to her great detriment, neither did Cuthbert. Apparently, being a male didn’t guarantee fiscal knowledge. The sad fact was that he spent much more than they had. She couldn’t persuade him to cut back, slow down, or alter any of his habits.
“Hurry,” he snapped. “I’m busy, and I don’t have time to fuss with your sister. Talk to her—fast—so I don’t have to.”
“Yes, yes, I’m going.”
“Don’t dawdle and don’t listen to any tales of woe. I gave her two full months of notice. It’s not my problem that she’s elected to linger instead of making arrangements for herself.”
They were parked outside the orphanage in a rented hansom cab. Previously, they’d owned a carriage, but it had been seized by creditors, the vehicle having been confiscated while Cuthbert was riding in it. They’d deposited him in a ditch and had hauled it away.
In response, he’d come home and had smashed all her dishes.
She reached over and opened the door, and as she climbed down, she peeked in to where he was sprawled on the seat like a lazy, entitled tyrant.
He’d been twenty-three when she’d met him, and he was thirty now, but he appeared much older than that. Where he’d once been handsome and dapper, he’d grown very fat from his excessive diet. His curly blond hair, his pride and joy, had fallen out on the top, so he combed over the longer strands to hide the huge bald spot.
She tried to remember what had intrigued her so thoroughly when she’d been a naïve girl of eighteen. He had good bloodlines and was from a reputable family. Why wouldn’t she have been enthralled? Why wouldn’t she have been determined to win him?
Her father hadn’t approved of her choice, but her grandmother had been more of a romantic, and she’d signed all the appropriate documents. By forging ahead when her father had specifically ordered her not to, she’d driven a wedge between them that had never been mended.
At the time, she’d been so sure that her decision was the correct one, but look where it had landed her! Not that she’d ever admit she might have been mistaken.
As her grandmother had warned when his gambling losses had mounted, no husband was perfect. Temperance just had to buckle down and figure out how to manage him.
“Go, Mrs. Maudsen!” he grouchily said. “Cease your woolgathering!”
He pulled the door shut, slamming it in her face.
She flashed a wan smile at the cab driver and asked him to wait, then she went to the orphanage and entered into the common room. It was always difficult to confer with her sister, and she hoped she could deliver Cuthbert’s message and escape the building without quarreling. That probably wasn’t possible though.
Sarah was like a thorn Temperance couldn’t pluck out. She was beautiful and kind, smart and savvy, reliable and loyal. In other words, she was possessed of all the attributes their father had relished.
In contrast, Temperance—with her chubby physique, dull brown hair, and even duller hazel eyes—was not kind, was not smart or savvy, was not what Sarah was able to be without trying at all. Everything was easy for her sister, and Temperance loathed her for it.
Even though Temperance had fled the orphanage the minute she could, even though she’d been raised by her rich grandmother and had wed the man of her dreams, Sarah was the one who was happy.
It was so unfair!
The facility was very quiet, a general air of neglect and abandonment settling in. Momentarily, she wondered if Sarah might have already moved out without informing her. She couldn’t deduce how she felt about it.
A boy of twelve or so walked in from the kitchen. He saw her and asked, “May I help you?”
“Is Miss Robertson here? Tell her that her sister, Temperance, has arrived, and I must speak to her at once.”
She could have marched up the stairs to the family apartment, but she couldn’t bear to be reminded of her humble beginnings. She’d come very far from those mortifying days.
“You’re her sister?” the boy insolently inquired.
“Yes. Please fetch her.” She clapped her hands at him.
“I will fetch her,” he said, “but first, I should like to state that I’m glad I don’t have a sister like you.”
Temperance rippled with offense. “You cheeky devil! Get out of my sight before I have my husband whip you for being impertinent!”
“From what I hear, he’s too lazy to brandish a whip. You shouldn’t hurl threats you can’t carry out.”
The boy looked imperious and regal—as if he viewed himself to be very much above her in status.
“You little monster!” she fumed. “How dare you disrespect me!”
“It’s quite simple, ma’am, and it’s all deserved. You know it too. I can see it in your eyes. Don’t pretend.”
She’d never encountered such a brazen waif, and she wasn’t sure how to react. Should she stomp over and slap him? She was terribly afraid he might slap her back! It was obvious he had no sense of his lowly place. What type of brats was Sarah rearing?
She couldn’t predict what might have hap
pened, but Sarah followed him in from the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” she asked the boy. “Are you bickering with someone?”
He rudely gestured to Temperance. “I was telling your sister that I don’t like her.”
“Thank you, Noah,” Sarah said, “but there’s no point in being awful to her. She’s always been horrid. It’s her genuine character poking through.”
“Should I leave you alone with her?” he asked Sarah. “Would you like me to stay?”
“No. She can’t do anything worse to me than she’s already done.”
The boy, Noah, shot a stern glower of disgust at Temperance, then sauntered off. Sarah waited until his footsteps faded, then she strolled over to where Temperance was standing by the door. She was definitely not in a rush.
“Why are you here?” Sarah sneered. “I told you not to come back.”
Instead of answering, she said, “What a dreadful nuisance he is! If you’re allowing that sort of sass, standards have certainly fallen.”
“Noah has a very famous father, and he’s inherited all of the man’s traits, especially the ones regarding loyalty.”
“He should be caned until he learns to shut his mouth!”
“Yes, I’ll get right on that,” Sarah sarcastically retorted. “I just love beating children. What is it you need? Please spit it out. Otherwise, I have chores.”
“Cuthbert wishes me to inform you that escrow will close Thursday or Friday.”
“Will that be all?”
Sarah was so calm and composed, and her unruffled deportment aggravated Temperance.
Temperance was wearing her very best gown, her velvet cloak and matching bonnet, while Sarah was attired in a tattered dress, an apron over top as if she was now doing her own cooking and cleaning. She had a kerchief covering her hair, her cheeks smudged with dirt, and still, she looked like a princess in a palace.
How did her sister manage her glamour? Why did she always appear so accursedly majestic?
Temperance never forgot that Sarah had been abandoned on the orphanage’s stoop when she was three. With it being a private facility for the natural children of aristocrats—and her bill always being paid—it indicated she had a noble parent. Yet no matter how grand her countenance, deep down she was a bastard, and Temperance constantly gloated over that fact.
Temperance’s parents—ordinary though they’d been—had been married when she was born.
She expected Sarah to expound on her plight, to complain about the situation or perhaps to beg Temperance not to let Cuthbert proceed. But they’d had that discussion months earlier, and Sarah never begged for anything. She didn’t think she should have to.
The silence stretched out, Sarah’s severe glare grinding her down, and Temperance couldn’t abide it. Finally, she asked, “Have you made any plans?”
“Oh, yes, I have all kinds of plans in place.”
“Well…good. How many urchins are still in your custody?”
“Two.”
“Don’t leave them here when you depart. I can’t be saddled with them.”
“I wouldn’t dream of inflicting you on an innocent child.”
Temperance ignored the insult. “When the new owner arrives, you have to be out.”
“Yes, I’ve understood you from the very start, Temperance. You don’t have to keep repeating yourself.”
She was anxious to repeat herself though.
Sarah was very angry, and Temperance felt a powerful urge to defend Cuthbert, to talk until Sarah admitted that he’d taken the only viable course, one that would—hopefully—save Temperance from bankruptcy. But Sarah had never liked Cuthbert, as their father had never liked him, and Temperance was weary of explaining.
Sarah never listened anyway, so why bother?
“I’ll just be going then,” she muttered. “Once you’re evicted, don’t knock on my door.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
“I’d assist you if I could, but after how viciously you’ve been scolding Cuthbert, you’re not welcome in our home.”
“I would never come there.”
Temperance nodded. “See that you don’t.”
When Cuthbert had first arranged the sale, they’d invited Sarah to supper, and she’d grudgingly accepted. After the meal, he’d told her what he’d done, and she’d called him hideous names, and since then, she hadn’t ceased her harangue.
For better or worse—mostly worse—Cuthbert was Temperance’s husband, and Sarah couldn’t be permitted to malign him.
“In case I have to contact you,” Temperance said, “where will you be?”
“Why would you care where I end up?”
“Don’t be smart! I asked a valid question, and I demand a valid answer. You know we had to sell. You know it. Quit acting as if the world should stop spinning merely because you disagree with the direction it’s turning.”
“I’d kick the whole stupid planet off its moorings if I could.”
“And that is precisely why you’re in the predicament you’re in.”
Sarah frowned. “Is that why? Here I thought it was because your despicable husband sold my home out from under me. I thought it was because he’s destroyed everything our father built.”
“You will not disparage my husband in front of me!”
“You’ve delivered your message, Temperance, and you were very clear. I’m to be out by Thursday. Why don’t you go? Isn’t Cuthbert waiting? We shouldn’t delay him. He gets so impatient.”
Temperance might have shouted a thousand invectives, but it was impossible to win an argument with her sister. She whipped away to stomp out, and as she would have exited, Sarah said, “Temperance?”
She glanced back. “What?”
“Have you ever wondered if Father is watching us from Heaven?”
It was a terrifying notion that plagued her in the dark of night when Cuthbert was out gamboling with his friends. How would her father view their treatment of Sarah?
The idiotic man had been born rich, but he’d embraced a life of poverty and charity. He’d devoted himself to helping the poor, when it was common knowledge they couldn’t be helped. How was any sane person to assess such deranged choices?
He would be devastated to have the orphanage closed, but his daughter needed the money from the sale. His son-in-law needed it. His family needed it, and they were more important than a bunch of orphans, weren’t they?
Yet he would blame Temperance. He would be ashamed of her. He’d grieve over how she’d hurt Sarah—Sarah, who’d always been his favorite.
“No,” she lied, “I don’t think about Father. I never think about him.”
She left before Sarah could annoy her with any other comments she refused to hear.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was a lazy Wednesday afternoon, and Sebastian was trying to enjoy some extended reveling at Hero’s Haven, but he couldn’t relax as he’d intended.
The house was once again packed with people. The members of the expedition team were all present, and his favorite brothel had sent a dozen pretty harlots to entertain them. It would be a day—and night—of disgusting behavior, then the doxies would leave, the servants clean up the mess, and a quieter group of guests would arrive.
He’d invited some of Sir Sidney’s old friends to gather and reminisce before the inquest began. They were all explorers as his father had been, though none of them were so renowned as Sir Sidney, mostly because they didn’t possess his flare for the dramatic.
Sebastian had asked his mother to serve as hostess, but she’d declined, so Ophelia would come instead, which meant Veronica would come too.
His mother and sister liked Veronica and considered him betrothed to her, but he’d never agreed to propose. At the moment, he had no desire to ponder matrimony or even some serious courting. He simply wanted to drink and carouse and stay two steps ahead of the demons that were plaguing him.
His mind was whirring with vexing issues. The inquest was front and c
enter, and he’d be glad when it was finished, but he was overwhelmed too by Nathan getting married and Sebastian having had no idea. To add insult to injury, Nathan had wed someone Sebastian had never met, so he had to admit that the debacle in Africa had pushed them much farther apart than he’d realized.
Then there was the problem with Miss Robertson and Sir Sidney’s bastards. He’d told her he didn’t believe her story, but the bloody shrew couldn’t tell a lie if her life depended on it. And he’d seen the pair as they’d burst into her apartment at the orphanage. Only a fool would deny their paternity.
Miss Robertson was about to be evicted. What was his opinion about that dilemma? Was he inclined to intervene? What was his obligation to the three of them? Did he have an obligation?
He still couldn’t figure out why he’d visited her. She was just so different from every other female. She wasn’t impressed by him, and while she’d begged for his help, it had been for the children, not for herself. Her conduct was odd and refreshing.
He was obscenely rich, with their journeys having pitched them into the business of diamond mining, so he was surrounded by sycophants and hangers-on. People constantly glommed onto him, but with dubious motives. Women in particular yearned to establish close ties.
Normally, he would have thought he hated the type of bold, unabashed arrogance Miss Robertson displayed, but it intrigued him to an insane degree. She carried herself like a goddess, like a warrior princess in an ancient fable.
She was shameless and exhausting, and he couldn’t stop obsessing over her.
“You have to talk to Nathan,” Raven said, pulling him out of his reverie.
“I know,” Sebastian replied.
“And you have to do it soon.”
“I know,” he repeated more sternly.
A few weeks earlier, he’d ridden to Selby to inform Nathan’s aunt that he’d perished in Africa, only to find him fit and hale and prancing about as if no calamity had occurred. For his troubles, Sebastian had been attacked by Nathan, in the process receiving two very painful black eyes and lucky his nose hadn’t been broken.
