by Cheryl Holt
“Yes, we have another sibling, and you have a twin sister.”
The news was so shocking that Sarah felt as if her limbs had melted. For the briefest moment, she blacked out and nearly slid off the chair.
“Whoa!” Nathan grabbed and steadied her. “Take a deep breath.”
“I have a twin sister?” she repeated like a dunce.
“Yes. You called her Bec-Bec because you couldn’t pronounce Rebecca.”
He stood and walked to the sideboard, and he returned with the whiskey decanter. He poured some in a glass, then extended it to her, but she couldn’t lift her arm, so he wrapped her fingers around it and guided it to her lips.
“Have a big drink,” he said. “It will calm you.”
She downed the liquor in a quick swallow, and she laughed a tad hysterically.
“I dream about her, but I assumed she was my guardian angel.”
“She’s not an angel. She’s a real person.”
“Where is she?”
“I have no idea. I’m hunting for her too.”
“Are you…ah…expecting she’s still alive?”
“I won’t accept that she might not be.”
Sarah closed her eyes and mentally sought Rebecca, as she often had in the past—when she was troubled, when she was sad, when she was feeling alone and scared.
Are you there? she asked in her mind.
The reply floated in immediately. Yes, I’m here.
She gazed at him again. “I’m betting she’s alive too. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
He continued with his depressing tale: how their father and her mother had built a life with Nathan and their daughters, how they’d been killed in a carriage accident when Nathan was six and Sarah three.
“Our Aunt Edwina came to shut down our house,” he explained. “I was brought to Selby because I was the new heir, but Grandfather wouldn’t permit Edwina to bring you and Rebecca too. She persuaded your mother’s relatives to offer you a home, but when your mother’s cousin arrived, you were sickly, and she refused to take you.”
“We were split up?”
“Yes.”
Her recurring nightmares made more sense now. The wicked witch who always swooped in and carried her away must have been her Aunt Edwina. Sarah had been crying with dismay, and she must have been reaching out to Bec-Bec. Nathan must have been the boy shouting in the background.
“I recollect a few details from that day,” she said.
“Rebecca went with your Carter cousins, and Aunt Edwina carted you off to the orphanage.” He clasped her hands again and squeezed tight. “Were you all right there? Were they kind to you? Were you fed and clothed? Was there coal for the stove in the winter? What was it like?”
“It was wonderful, Nathan, so please don’t fret.”
“I have been fretting. Ever since I found out I had sisters, I’ve been so afraid you might have been imperiled.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Robertson were generous people. I had a good life with them.”
He shuddered with relief. “That’s such a load off my shoulders.”
“They thought I was so charming that they adopted me.” She grinned, the first one she’d displayed. “How could they not love me? I was Viscount Matthew Blake’s remarkable daughter.”
He chuckled. “I see you have some of my same humility.”
“I don’t have a humble bone in my body.”
“Neither do I. In that, we’re exactly the same.” He nodded resolutely. “You’re staying here with me so Nell and I can watch over you. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Are you certain?”
“It’s what Father would have wanted, and it’s what I want too.”
“I would hate to impose.”
“You never could. From this point on, I have to know you’re safe.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “I wish I’d come to you long ago.”
“Well, I only recently remembered you. If you’d showed up any earlier, I’d probably have called you a deranged liar.”
“I feel as if Fate delivered me at just the right moment.”
“I’m starting to feel that way too.”
“Can we find Rebecca?”
“It’s my plan.”
“Now that you’ve told me about her, I’m quite impatient to be with her again.”
* * * *
“It was much easier than I anticipated.”
“It happened so fast too. There’s nothing to distract him now, so I’m positive he’ll propose.”
Ophelia was walking down the hall toward her mother’s boudoir. She was in the doghouse, ordered to remain in her room, have meals on a tray, and generally be invisible.
The door was open, and her mother and Veronica were inside talking. In the brief period she’d been away, Veronica and her mother had bonded in an odd fashion Ophelia didn’t comprehend. They were thick as thieves, always whispering, their heads pressed close as if they were sharing secrets.
Veronica had replaced Ophelia in her mother’s affection, and Ophelia couldn’t decide if she was irked by their switching of roles. A silly, flighty girl had run off with Judah Barnett, but an older, wiser matron had returned. She was wary and distrustful and caught herself questioning every issue.
“If he still doesn’t proceed,” Veronica asked Gertrude, “what then?”
“I’ll broach the subject with him again very soon,” Gertrude said. “He simply needs to get her out of his system, then he’ll be more amenable to my suggestions.”
Ophelia strolled in and inquired, “Are you discussing Sebastian?”
They stiffened, as if with affront, then Gertrude said, “You’re not welcome in my bedchamber, Ophelia. Go to your own room.”
“How long will you ignore me?”
“It may be forever.”
Ophelia marched out, muttering, “Why am I bothering with you?”
“Feel free to depart whenever you’d like!” her mother hurled as she retreated like a whipped puppy.
She was bored and out of sorts, and she’d like to engage in some interesting activities, but the thought of being outside left her incredibly anxious. She was suffering such peculiar effects from the calamity she’d endured.
The slightest sounds had her jumping. If she rounded a corner and someone was standing there, she’d lurch with alarm, and her nervous reactions were so annoying. It was galling to realize she was such a trembling ninny.
She trudged into her bedchamber and climbed into the window seat to stare out the window. It was a rainy, dreary afternoon that perfectly matched her mood.
As footsteps echoed in the hall, she glanced over to see Veronica entering. They’d been friends since they were tiny, and Ophelia had been excited for them to become sisters. Their mothers had plotted for Sebastian to wed her, and Ophelia had never pondered whether it was a good idea or not.
Yet as with so many topics, her view about it had altered—because her view of Sebastian had changed. She no longer envisioned him as being aloof and stubborn. With his riding to her rescue, she’d had to accept that he was very tough, very brave, and that he might be much smarter than she’d ever given him credit for being.
Would Veronica make him happy? She didn’t think so. Did he recognize it too? Was that why he had delayed?
“Don’t mind Gertrude,” Veronica cheerfully said as she came over and nestled herself into the window seat too. “She’s angry with you, but she’ll get over it.”
“I don’t care if she gets over it.”
“You have to admit your conduct was exceedingly reckless. What possessed you? Mr. Barnett was handsome enough, but honestly!”
“He promised to take me to Africa.”
“Why would you want to travel to Africa?”
Veronica gaped at Ophelia as if it was the strangest notion ever voiced.
“Well, I am a Sinclair,” Ophelia said, “and my family is renowned for its wanderlust.”
“The men are renowned for it. How do you
fit into that picture?”
Ophelia wasn’t about to explain the yearnings that plagued her, how she wished she were a man, how she wished she could be allowed the exotic experiences men were allowed. She couldn’t be the only female in history to crave a bigger path.
“You and Mother are quite chummy all of a sudden,” she said, deftly switching subjects. “What brought about all this camaraderie?”
Veronica smiled slyly. “You won’t believe what we accomplished while your brother went running after you.”
“Yes, I will. What was it?”
“You have to swear not to tell anyone. Especially Sebastian.”
“I won’t. I swear.”
Veronica leaned nearer and murmured, “Your mother told me about that…woman who was living in the cottage at the Haven.”
“Miss Robertson?”
“Yes, and we chased her away. We pretended Sebastian and I were betrothed and planning a Christmas wedding. She was absolutely devastated, and she fled without a whimper of protest.”
“It was cruel to lie to her like that.”
Veronica waved away Ophelia’s comment. “I agreed with your mother. She had to be forced out of his life. It was the only way to get him to focus on me.”
Ophelia remembered the day she’d seen Sebastian chatting with Miss Robertson in the village outside the Haven. He’d looked so fond, almost as if he was in love with her. He’d definitely never gazed at Veronica like that.
When Ophelia had first learned about Miss Robertson, she’d been livid. Why had she been? There was so little joy in the world. Why should it bother her if her brother had found a girl who made him happy?
“We’ve rid ourselves of those two urchins too,” Veronica said.
Ophelia frowned. “Her wards?”
“Yes. It was outrageous of her to have dragged them into our midst.”
“You know who those children are, don’t you?”
Veronica smirked. “I know who Miss Robertson said they were. Just because she claimed a certain paternity, that doesn’t indicate it’s true.”
“Did they leave with Miss Robertson?”
“No, your mother sent them somewhere, and I’m so relieved to be shed of them. Once I marry Sebastian, I wasn’t about to have them strutting about at the Haven. Can you imagine the scandal it would have stirred?”
“Yes, I can imagine,” Ophelia mumbled.
Previously, she’d been shocked by the arrival of her half-siblings. Now, she was simply sad for them.
Where were they? What would become of them? Sebastian had felt a duty to aid them. What about Ophelia? Should she intervene in Gertrude’s mischief? Should she start a quarrel and demand answers as to where they were?
No doubt any display of temper would merely exacerbate the problems she was having with her mother. And really, was it appropriate for the children to have been thrust on them?
She couldn’t decide.
“If you had to guess about their location,” she said, “where would you suspect they are?”
“Your mother has handled this type of situation before. She has a method for dealing with unpleasant waifs who show up on her stoop.”
“Might they be imperiled?” Ophelia asked.
“Gad, no! They’re just…gone.”
Ophelia stared at her old friend, her cousin, trying to find her prior affection, but it had vanished.
“I’m terribly fatigued, Veronica,” she fibbed. “I think I’ll take a nap.”
“Fine. I’ll pop in to check on you in a bit. Perhaps we can curl each other’s hair.”
“I’d like that.”
Veronica left, and as Ophelia watched her depart, her anger flared. She wanted to rail at the obnoxious shrew. She wanted to shake her, but she was too weary to fight over any topic. What could she do about it anyway?
She’d discuss it with Sebastian. He would know what was best. She turned back to the window and continued to study the rain, mesmerized by how it pattered on the glass.
* * * *
Nell was in Sarah’s bedchamber and seated on her bed. Supper was over, and it was getting late. Sarah was snuggled under the blankets, and they were gossiping like schoolgirls. They couldn’t stop.
It was hard to believe she’d stumbled in only a few hours earlier. Nell had spent those hours observing her and Nathan, which was fascinating.
Over the summer, she’d visited Sarah at the orphanage, and she’d been struck by how much Sarah had resembled him. She’d teased Sarah about it, joking that she must have had some Blake blood flowing in her veins.
It was uncanny how she and Sarah had been friends, how Nell had fallen in love with Nathan, how Fate had delivered Sarah to them. The Good Lord was definitely guiding all their steps.
“Did I tell you I met your sister, Temperance?” Nell asked.
“No, and before you describe your conversation with her, let me categorically state that I apologize for however she offended you.”
“I assume you won’t be insulted if I mention she’s a horrid person.”
“I won’t be insulted.”
“She’s positively ghastly. Was she adopted by the Robertsons too?”
“No. She was their very own daughter. She came along after they adopted me.”
“That’s why you’re so different then. During the entire appointment, I tried to figure out how you could possibly be related to her.”
“Temperance was embarrassed by my father. He was from a wealthy family, but they disowned him when he used his inheritance to start the orphanage.”
“He must have been a wonderful man.”
“He was.” Sarah sighed and nodded. “I was lucky that he and his wife wanted me. It changed everything.”
“It certainly did.”
“His mother was rich, and for some reason, she really liked Temperance. She invited her to move to the country and be raised there. My father fought it, but eventually relented. Afterward, Temperance became even more awful.”
“The house she lives in, she inherited it from her grandmother?”
“Yes, and when the woman died, she was bequeathed some money too, so when Cuthbert latched onto her, she was quite a catch. Her money’s gone though. He gambled it away, and the house will be lost before too much more time has passed.”
“If they’re forced into foreclosure, what will happen to them?”
“I’d like to say I’m concerned about it, but if I don’t say that, will you think I’m being unkind?”
Nell chuckled. “No. I’ll think—if you’ve cut ties with her—it’s what she deserves. She’ll probably need your help someday, but she won’t be able to find you.”
“I just suffered a little thrill merely from imagining it. I’m afraid my trail of woe is making me cruel.”
“Or maybe more astute.”
“Maybe.”
“When I called on her, I had myself announced as the very ordinary Mrs. Blake, but when I departed, I was so irked with her that I guaranteed she knew I was Lady Selby. She fell all over herself, trying to smooth over her boorish posturing, but I left in an imperious snit, apprising her that I wasn’t impressed—and she wasn’t forgiven for being so rude to me.”
They grinned a complicit grin, and Sarah said, “I’m so glad I’m here. It’s like a dream. I’m scared I’ll wake up and discover none of it is real.”
“I still feel that way, and I doubt I’ll ever grow accustomed to it. Even now, when someone refers to me as Lady Selby, I occasionally glance over my shoulder to see who they’re talking to.”
Sarah laughed so merrily the bed shook, and as her mirth waned, she said, “It’s marvelous to laugh again. I was beginning to worry I never would.”
“It will all get better very fast. Nathan is adept at fixing what’s wrong.”
“Can I ask you a question? I would have asked him, but with my just staggering in, I couldn’t bear to upset him.”
“He’s not easily riled. He was a bit short-tempered when he fi
rst returned from Africa, but he was physically ill, and his mental state was low. He’s improved so much, and his rage has nearly vanished. He’ll be delighted to assist you with any issue.”
“It’s regarding Sebastian Sinclair,” Sarah bluntly declared.
“Mr. Sinclair! Oh, my. At the moment, they’re feuding.”
“I know, but Mr. Sinclair is why I’m here.”
“How are you acquainted with him?”
“It’s a long story. If I tell it to you, will you promise you won’t hate me?”
“Hate you! Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then you have to at least promise you won’t be shocked.”
Nell’s mind raced as she struggled to deduce what Sarah was about to confide. A suspicion dawned, and she said, “Is this going to lead where I think it’s going to lead?”
“If you think it’s going to lead to an illicit affair between the two of us, then you’d be correct.”
“Sarah Robertson! For shame!”
Sarah winced, and Nell hastily said, “I was teasing. Since I ruined myself with Nathan before I ever had a ring on my finger, I am not in any position to judge you. You haven’t noticed that I’m in the family way.”
“What? I thought you’d put on some weight! You look so healthy, and I didn’t want to accuse you of being chubby!”
“Most people would claim I’m glowing, but it’s because I’m having a baby. And don’t you dare calculate any calendar dates that might indicate immoral tendencies.”
“A baby! That’s terrific news!”
“So I can’t exactly chastise you for an ethical lapse.”
“I was hoping that would be your opinion. If I don’t hurry and confess my sins, I just might explode.”
“I was never a priest,” Nell told her, “so I can’t be your confessor, but I am an excellent listener. Spill all, you lusty wench, and don’t stop until you get to the end.”
* * * *
Nathan was dawdling on a sofa in a cozy parlor at the rear of the manor. He was sipping a whiskey and staring into the fire that was burning in the grate. It was a cool autumn night, the wind blustery, the seasons definitely changing.
And he was stuck in England.
It occurred to him that he was accursedly happy. At Selby! Who would ever have imagined it?
