Silence descended upon the room, the soft morning sunlight giving way to the gray clouds that wafted across the sky. Christopher had mixed feelings about his mother. Perhaps as the oldest, and as the only son, he had memories of Maeve Townsend when he was very young. He recalled his mother hugging him, the soft scent of her perfume enveloping him, as she sang a sweet lullaby before bed. She smiled more often back then and laughed with him. He wasn’t exactly sure when things changed or why. But it seemed to have been sometime after Evelyn was born that his world went dark and became filled with anger and fear and abuse.
“I suppose she could come with us, wherever we go,” Evie said grudgingly, jutting out her delicate chin. “But I honestly don’t care what happens to her.”
Christopher nodded, as if in agreement. He didn’t want to get into that kind of discussion with his sister now. In fact he avoided discussing their childhood at all costs if it could be helped.
“Well, we can’t very well toss Mother out onto the street,” he said pragmatically. “We shall just have to manage. In any case, we’re not going away, at least I’m not. And once I marry and have the resources we need, you won’t have to worry about anything. You don’t have to have a come out or even get married if you don’t wish to. I can send you wherever you want to go, Evie. You can travel. You know I’ll always take care of you and Gwyneth. And Mother.”
The tears that had rimmed her eyes now spilled down her pale cheeks. “Oh, Kit,” she cried. “How can you be so good to me when I’m so hateful? I apologize. Please forgive me.”
He stood and walked to where his sister was seated. He patted her shoulder and placed a light kiss on the top of her head. “You’re not hateful. And I understand. More than you know. Please don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
An anguished sob escaped her and it tore his heart in two. He suddenly realized how hard Evie’s life had been, trapped in this house with their neglectful mother and abusive father, day in and day out. Year after year, with nothing to break the monotony, her life and her well-being had been at the mercy of their father’s malicious and mercurial whims. While he’d had the opportunity to go away to school and later university, and even a brief trip abroad, his two sisters had been imprisoned in this nightmare. No wonder Evie wanted to flee.
How had this thought never occurred to him before?
“Why don’t you and Gwyneth come to London with me tomorrow?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.
“Oh, Kit, do you mean that?” Evie’s sweet face glimmered with hope.
He did mean it and he wasn’t sure why. Or what bringing his sisters to London would accomplish. It wasn’t as if he could afford to buy them a new wardrobe or anything. He just thought it would be nice for them to be away from their mother and Bridgeton Hall for a little while. He realized how little freedom his sisters had, and how restrictive a woman’s life could be. Women really were the prisoners of the men in their lives. “Yes, go get packing and come stay at the town house with me for a few days. I’ll tell Gwyneth.”
“I haven’t been to London since I was a little girl and Gwyneth has never been. But Mother will never allow it,” whispered Evie, fear creeping back into her eyes.
“I’m the head of the family now, aren’t I? I control the estate and what money we have left. I’m the earl now,” Christopher said with authority he finally felt for the first time in his life. “If I want to take my sisters to London, I will. And there’s nothing Mother can do to stop me. We shall leave first thing in the morning.”
6
A Little Leeway
“Uncle Jeffrey, thank you!” Sara exclaimed with wonder at the wriggling bundle of golden fur in her arms. “He’s just darling!” The small puppy licked her face with his tiny tongue and she could not stop giggling.
“Your mother will be furious with me for giving him to you, but that’s part of the fun!” Jeffrey Eddington, the Duke of Rathmore, grinned wickedly at his godchild.
“Well, I love him already and I think he loves me,” Sara cried, cradling the fluffy little Yorkshire terrier in her arms.
“Papa, why didn’t you get us a puppy?” Victoria Eddington asked with an injured air. The pretty ten-year-old placed her hands on her hips in indignation.
“Because, my sweet girl, it’s much more fun to annoy your aunt Juliette than it is to annoy your mother.” He playfully tweaked his daughter’s cheek, causing her to lose her serious grimace and laugh. She clearly adored her father. “Besides, isn’t it wonderful to give Cousin Sara a present that she loves so much?”
“Papa, where did you get him?” Six-year-old Vivienne demanded, her wide green eyes staring up at the little dog Sara held.
Sara moved to sit on the divan where she could better manage the excited puppy and allow her three little cousins to sit beside her. They were adorable in their matching pink dresses with white lace smocks and pink ribbons adorning their blond ringlets. The girls immediately climbed up and began to pet the tiny dog, squealing in delight as they did.
Uncle Jeffrey smiled at them. “A friend of mine, you know Lord Deane, don’t you? His wife’s dog had puppies a few weeks ago and when I ran into him yesterday he asked if I wanted one. I immediately thought of Sara. And then when I saw this little chap, I knew he would be perfect for her.”
“What are you going to call him, Sara?” Violet asked. She was the oldest of the Eddington daughters, and at twelve was the calmest of the three. “He needs a name, Sara.”
“Yes, he certainly does need a name,” Sara agreed, as she stroked the soft golden brown fur. The puppy curled up in her lap, content to be adored by the girls. “What do you think we should call him?”
“He’s so small. How about Tiny?” suggested Violet.
“He’s just a baby so he won’t always be tiny,” Victoria countered. “I think we should call him Fluffy, because he looks like he has fluffy stockings on his feet.”
“No, with that dark fur on his paws he looks like he’s wearing little black boots.” Vivienne announced excitedly, “Let’s call him Boots!”
“Oh, that’s just perfect, Vivvy!” Sara declared. “That’s exactly what we shall call him.” She smiled at the girls and they nodded their blond heads in agreement. “Boots.”
“Since I named him, I get to play with him whenever I want,” Vivienne explained in a bossy tone to her older sisters. “So that makes him my puppy too.”
With a quick swooping motion, Uncle Jeffrey gathered up Vivienne in his arms and swung her around. “He’s Cousin Sara’s dog, little missy,” he reminded her gently. “And don’t you forget it.”
Vivienne squealed with glee, her bubbly laughter filling the room, causing the puppy to spring off Sara’s lap and chase Uncle Jeffrey’s feet.
“Put me down now, Papa!” Vivienne demanded, while an overexcited Boots yipped at them.
“What in heaven’s name is going on in here?” Aunt Yvette called over the din as she entered the drawing room. When she saw the puppy racing around the room, she exclaimed in dismay, “Oh Jeffrey, you didn’t!”
Sara loved all her mother’s sisters and Aunt Yvette was no exception. With her pretty ways and fashionable style, Sara adored the youngest of the five Hamilton sisters. The last time she was in London she and Aunt Yvette had the most amazing shopping spree! Between Aunt Yvette and Uncle Jeffrey, Sara felt at home when she was with them. It was also fun to act as a big sister to the little girls. And of course, Violet, Victoria, and Vivienne simply idolized their cousin Sara.
“Juliette will be very cross with you for giving Sara a puppy! You know how much she dislikes pets.” In spite of scolding him, Aunt Yvette couldn’t help but smile at the gleam in her husband’s eye. “Yet I suppose that’s exactly why you did it.” She kissed his cheek and shook her head. “Come now, girls, your music teacher has just arrived. You can see Cousin Sara again later before supper. And if you’re very good, perhaps she’ll read you a story before you go to bed later. Now come along,”
she prodded them against a chorus of protests.
Eventually she had herded the three blond girls from the room, leaving Sara alone with just Uncle Jeffrey and Boots.
“I can’t thank you enough, Uncle Jeffrey. I’ve always wanted a dog of my own, but Mother disapproved,” Sara said, as she scooped the puppy back into her arms to settle him down.
The little dog wanted no part of it. So she set him back down on the thick Persian rug. Idly, she tossed one of her leather gloves to him. He scurried to retrieve it and raced back to her. He clasped the soft kid glove tightly between his teeth while she pulled gently. Loving the game, he continued the little tug of war over her glove. Which was no doubt ruined now. But he was so cute, what did it matter?
“Oh, I just love him!” she declared.
“You’re very welcome, my dear.” Uncle Jeffrey made himself comfortable in a large armchair, casually crossing his legs. He rested his gaze upon her and said softly, “But I gather that’s not the only love you have on your mind, is it?”
The smile left her face and Sara felt her cheeks burn. “I suppose they told you all about why they dragged me to London?”
He shrugged. “More or less. Your parents are simply concerned for your welfare, that’s all.”
“And I also suppose that they asked you to talk some sense into me? Is that what this little conversation is all about?” Her words came out much harsher than she intended them to.
Uncle Jeffrey threw back his head and laughed. “You are so like your mother, Sara. You really have no idea.”
“I’ve heard that all my life,” she responded sullenly, hating that she sounded like a petulant child.
He grinned at her, his eyes dancing. “You should take that as the compliment that it is definitely intended to be. Your mother is a remarkable woman, as are all the Hamilton sisters. And like it or not, Miss Fleming, you are half Hamilton yourself. So count yourself very, very lucky.”
Sara rolled her eyes. She’d heard enough about the Hamiltons to last her whole life. Uncle Jeffrey meant well, but she was in no mood to hear about them, especially when she was more than a little put out that her parents had seen fit to share the details of Sara’s personal life. Even if it was only with Uncle Jeffrey.
“And that eye roll!” Jeffrey laughed again. “If you stuck out your tongue, it’d be like I’m going back in time, sitting across from Juliette Hamilton all over again. You remind me of the first time I met her. She was just about your age too.”
Sara turned away from him, focusing all her attention on Boots.
Ignoring Uncle Jeffrey was a difficult thing to do. Being charming and fun, he had always been her favorite uncle. But she did not wish to discuss her parents, nor her intimate personal affairs, with him. She finally freed the glove from the puppy’s mouth and tossed it toward the doorway. Boots scampered to fetch it, sliding across the polished wood floor once his tiny paws left the security of the rug. After grabbing the glove in his teeth, he ran back to her and dropped it at her feet. And the game began again.
“In spite of what you are thinking, I did not invite you here this afternoon to talk about your parents, Sara. I know you are upset about what they did, but I want you to just consider something.” Uncle Jeffrey leaned forward in his chair. “I’ve known both of your parents for a very long time and I am positive that you mean the world to them. Do you really believe they dragged you across the Atlantic Ocean, knowing that doing so would surely break your heart, simply because they don’t like the man you’ve fallen for?”
Stunned by his words, Sara turned to stare at Uncle Jeffrey, her plans of ignoring him completely forgotten.
“Don’t you think perhaps . . . just perhaps . . . that they have a very good reason to do what they did?”
“Well, if they had a good reason, they should have told me what it was! I only know that they didn’t even give him a chance,” Sara said heatedly. “He loves me and I love him, and I don’t care what they say. I only want to be with him. He’s all that matters to me. He—”
“So tell me all about him.” Uncle Jeffrey sat back in the chair, relaxing as if settling in for a good long chat. He presented her with a warm smile and an attentive gaze.
Sara had expected an argument with him, to debate the wrongness of her parents’ actions. She had not expected him to seem genuinely interested in her romantic affairs. Tossing the glove to an impatient Boots once again, she sighed. “Uncle Jeffrey, I can’t imagine that you wish to hear about any of this.”
“Of course I do. You’re the daughter of my dearest friends, my eldest niece, and my godchild as well. I’ve watched you grow from a strong-willed toddler into a strong-willed young woman. And I’ll have you know, I’m quite skilled at assisting romances that seem doomed. Just ask your mother and your aunts.” He winked at her. “Perhaps I can be of some help.”
“The only way you can help me is to convince my parents to take me back to New York.”
He nodded agreeably. “I could do that . . . if . . .” Then he paused. “If I believed this gentleman of yours was worth going back to.”
Warily, she looked into Uncle Jeffrey’s eyes. She wanted to believe he would persuade her parents but she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust him. Then she figured she had nothing to lose at this point. “First, can you tell me why we left in such a hurry? I didn’t even have a chance to tell him good-bye. What do my parents know about him that I don’t and they apparently don’t wish for me to know? They won’t even discuss it with me.”
“I think that’s a fair question to ask.” He thought for a moment. “Are you sure you are prepared for the answer? Whatever it may be?”
Sara hesitated. She hadn’t considered that point. What if the problem wasn’t what she thought it was? What if there was something truly dreadful about Alexander Drake, too dreadful for her parents to tell her? Was he a danger to her? Had they discovered he had a secret, sordid past? That he had committed robbery? Or even worse . . . a murder? She shook her head at her wild imagination. It was preposterous. She loved Alexander. She couldn’t ever love a murderer or a criminal. She would have sensed something that terrible about him deep in her heart. Certainly, she would just know if something were wrong. He had held her in his arms and kissed her, for heaven’s sake! He couldn’t possibly be a criminal, let alone a murderer.
“Oh, I know exactly what they think,” Sara spat out the words that had haunted her. “My parents believe he is only after my money. Apparently, my inheritance is worth so many millions of dollars that no man could possibly love me for myself with that amount of money dangling over my head.”
Uncle Jeffrey grew quiet, which was surprising.
“So exactly what am I expected to do?” she asked, unable to suppress the slight hitch in her voice.
Looking away, Sara turned her attention back to Boots, who insisted on continuing their game of fetch. For what seemed like the hundredth time, she tossed her now tattered glove across the room. It landed behind an oversized armchair and the puppy scurried underneath the chintz trim in search of it, emerging with his little black button nose covered in dust.
“Yes, you are in a complicated situation, my dear.”
Uncle Jeffrey spoke to her as an adult. He did not patronize her. Sara found the change refreshing. Boots trotted back, looking up at her with his adoring eyes. She scooped him from the floor and brushed him off. He must have been tired from his exertions because he curled up in her lap and fell fast asleep, the warmth of his little body calming her. She gently stroked his soft, golden fur.
“The danger of being a beautiful American heiress is that there are definitely men who will want to marry you solely for your money, Sara. Plain and simple. It is a considerable amount of money, so don’t ever underestimate its appeal.”
“I am quite aware of that fact,” she whispered ruefully, although it was interesting to hear what an adult other than her parents had to say about it. She was somewhat intrigued by Uncle Jeffrey’s point of view.<
br />
“What you need to do is to determine whether whatever-his-name-is. . .”
“Alexander Drake.”
“Whether . . . this Alexander Drake . . . loves you for your money or not. So when you write to him to tell him that you are in London”—he winked slyly at her—“you might mention exactly why your parents felt a separation was necessary.”
“What are you suggesting?” Sara was surprised that her uncle was aware of her letter writing to Alexander. Had Mara told him?
“I’m suggesting that you act responsibly. Facts are facts and the fact is you are blessed and cursed by money. Your considerable fortune is your responsibility and you must beware of scoundrels simply out to squander it. As I said, sweet Sara, there are men out there who would do just that very thing. If I were you,” he continued calmly, “I would tell Mr. Drake that your parents will disinherit you if you marry him.”
“They would never do that!”
“I know that,” he said earnestly. “And you know that, but your young man is not aware of that fact. Presented with that situation, it would be interesting to see what he would do, don’t you think?”
Sara shook her head vehemently. “But that is so cold and calculating! I could never lie to him in such a manner.”
He raised an inquisitive brow. “Are you afraid to learn that he wouldn’t choose you over the money?”
“Of course not!” she protested. But suddenly she was struck with uncertainty and it felt as if she were doused with icy cold water.
“Then you should have no trouble telling him so. If he’ll marry you without the money, as you say he will, then there is nothing to fear for you will know without a doubt that he loves you more than your millions. You can tell that to your parents. They will bless the union and you’ll get your man and your money. On the other hand, if he bows out . . . then you know the truth about his character. And it’s good riddance. He doesn’t deserve you. Either way it’s always best to know the truth about him.” Uncle Jeffrey paused, looking at her pointedly. “Don’t you agree?”
The Heiress He's Been Waiting For Page 6
