Mina frowned. Will hadn’t said anything about his uncle’s frail health.
“Sorry.” The man tucked the cloth back into his pocket with a wink reminiscent of Will’s. “The past year has not been kind to me, but no cause for alarm. My doctor assures me I am on the mend. Now then.” He pulled Will in for an embrace with a hearty pat on his back, then released him, chuckling. “This may be the first occasion you’ve ever arrived on time, my boy.” His gaze swung toward her. “Surely you have wrought great miracles in my nephew.”
She ought to answer him, truly, especially with the expectant tilt to his head, but her tongue fell flat. Facing this dear old man, posing as William’s wife, suddenly stabbed her in the heart.
“Uncle,” Will cut in, “allow me to introduce my … well, this is Mina. Mina, my uncle, Mr. Charles Barlow.”
Uncle Barlow reached for her hand and bowed over it with a light kiss. “Welcome to the family, my dear. I look forward to getting to know you.”
Her heart twisted, and she drew back her fingers. The old fellow would not say such things if he knew he held the hand of a deceiver.
She glanced over her shoulder, judging the distance to the door. She never should have agreed to this. Would Will forgive her if she dashed out of here now?
CHAPTER FIVE
There are strings … in the human heart that had better not be vibrated.
Barnaby Rudge
Will tugged at his collar, despising the cravat choking his neck. Thank God this farce would soon be over. How could he have imagined this would work? He didn’t have the slightest notion of how a husband should act, though he should have by now if Elizabeth hadn’t—
He reached for his tea and slugged back a scalding mouthful, welcoming the burn. Anything to keep from remembering. He’d sworn to never again allow a woman access to his heart. What had possessed him to playact such a scene?
Beside him, Mina sipped her tea as she listened to one of Uncle’s stories. Ahh, but she was a good sport and a true friend. Not to mention brave. He barely had the fortitude himself to sit here and endure Percy’s remarks and Alice’s thinly concealed glowers.
Across the table, Percy looked down his nose at him, a smug lift to one brow—the same look Will had received that Christmas years ago when, as lads, Percy had caught him with Uncle’s snuffbox hidden behind his back. Percy never had been able to prove that he’d pinched a wad, but that hadn’t stopped his cousin from trying.
Will snuck a covert glance over at Uncle Barlow. The old fellow seemed to be enjoying Mina, and he hadn’t made one remark yet on Will’s jaded past. At the very least, perhaps this tea would mend the relational fences Will had broken as a young fool. Even now, thinking of his past rebellious ways sickened him.
“Excuse me, Mina, is it?” Alice impaled Mina with a cancerous gaze. For a moment, she didn’t speak, but twirled one finger around a silver locket. “What did you say your maiden name was?”
Mina, God bless her, smiled at the woman. “It is Scott.”
“Is?” Alice’s fingers froze midtwirl, and she lowered her hand.
Will tensed. A slip like that was enough rope in Alice’s hand to string up Mina and hang her with her own words. He forced a small laugh. “You’ll have to excuse Mina, for you see, the name Barlow is still so new to her.”
“Speaking of which, how long have you—” Uncle set down his teacup and once again pulled out his handkerchief as another coughing spell overtook him.
Will frowned. Was Uncle Barlow truly getting better? Perhaps he ought to press the man to get a second opinion from a different doctor.
The hacking faded, and Uncle tucked his kerchief away. Leaning toward Mina, he smiled at her. “As I was saying, how long have you known my nephew, my dear?”
She exchanged a glance with Will before she answered. “Nearly a year.”
“Really?” Percy’s eyes narrowed. “That seems a rather whirlwind courtship from start to finish. How long did you say you’ve been married?”
“Tell me, Percy,” Will cut in, hoping to divert the man. “I’ve been meaning to ask, has your bout of the itch cleared up yet?”
Red worked its way up Percy’s neck. “I will thank you to keep my personal information to yourself.”
Alice swung her gaze to Will, apparently impervious to her husband’s distress. “At least your wife’s former surname is not an unpronounceable bit of French twaddle like your mother’s was.”
Beneath the tablecloth, his hands curled into fists. He should’ve known his mother would have been shaken out and hung to dry at some point in today’s conversation. She always was—which was why they could never know she was still alive. Working his jaw, he forced his tone to remain light. “My mother has nothing to do with this.”
“I should think she does.” Percy faced Uncle Barlow, nearly blinding them all as chandelier light reflected off his glasses. “Surely you would hate to see the wealth of your English forefathers tainted by someone with French blood.”
“My husband is right.” Alice sipped her tea as she eyed Uncle Barlow. “Percy has solid investments lined up with men who have bloodlines that go back to King Richard. Dear Uncle, there should be no more delay in getting your will and property signed over to Percy.”
Uncle grunted, then drifted sideways toward Mina. “‘Something will come of this. I hope it mayn’t be human gore.’”
She clapped her hands together with a laugh at Uncle Barlow’s quotation. “Simon Tappertit is one of my favorite characters in Barnaby Rudge.”
“Oh? A Dickens admirer, are you?” Uncle Barlow leaned back in his chair, surveying the breadth of the tearoom. “Look, there he goes now. Posh it! I should have liked to have introduced you.”
Will followed his uncle’s gaze to see a long-legged man in a houndstooth dress coat clap a bowler atop his head and stride out the door.
“You know Charles Dickens?”
The awe in Mina’s voice drew his gaze back to her. She stared at Uncle, wide-eyed and pink cheeked, respect and admiration radiating off her in waves. What would it feel like if she looked at Will so? His chest tightened. Even during their best moments, Elizabeth had never paid him such due.
“I should say so,” Uncle answered. “Charles and I go way back. Let me tell you of the time—”
“Enough nattering of folderol.” Percy clinked his teacup onto the saucer, jarring them all. “Back to the matter at hand.”
“I agree.” Picking up her napkin, Alice dabbed her lips, apparently finished with her refreshment and the whole conversation. “I see no reason to delay this affair.”
“Especially since it appears you’ve already spent Uncle’s money on some ridiculous investments,” Will shot back.
“Why, I ought to—”
“Oh, pardon me. Did I say that aloud?”
“Listen, Cousin.” Percy shot the word like a poison arrow. “You are unfit in every respect to inherit Uncle Barlow’s estate. My wife is perfectly astute in her observation. I see no reason to postpone the paperwork whatsoever.”
“Take a care, Cousin. You are dreadfully close to suffering an apoplexy.” Will stifled a smile at the slight tremor rippling across Percy’s shoulders. Truly, it was wicked of him to prod the man so, but ever so satisfying. Were Fitz here, he’d be rolling on the floor, laughing in spasms.
Alice gasped such a sharp intake, her corset strings were likely in danger of snapping. “I never! Such a lack of manners. Such ill-bred, uncouth—”
Soft laughter and a bass chuckle drew all their attention. Mina and Uncle Barlow conspired over their teacups like bosom companions, alternating between whispers and laughter.
Uncle wiped the moisture from his eyes with his knuckle. “William, you could not have married a more delightful young lady. I am pleased that you have mended your ways and become a man of honour. It seems you’ve taken full advantage of the second chance I offered you a year ago, and I couldn’t be more proud.”
Will’s gut churned, and a
sour taste filled his mouth. Those were exactly the words he’d hoped to hear, the sole reason for asking Mina to attend this tea. But now that the victory was his, he didn’t want it. Not like this.
Averting his gaze, he hung his head. “Thank you, sir.”
Alice blew out a snort. “Pish!”
Uncle Barlow held up a hand, cutting her off. “As you all know, I am soon to announce an heir for my estate, and I’ve given much thought to it these past months. Therefore, I should like to name—”
Will looked up. Alice and Percy leaned so far toward Uncle, their chairs might go under at any moment. Even Mina quieted.
“—a date two weeks hence,” Uncle continued. “Yes, in exactly a fortnight, I think. We shall meet over dinner the Thursday following next at my town house. Eight o’clock. Is this agreeable?”
“Yes.” Will’s voice chimed in unison with his cousins’, offset by Mina’s, “No.”
Will draped his arm around Mina’s shoulder, ignoring the tension his touch created. “Mina is right. We should first check our calendar. Yes, my sweet?” He gave her a little squeeze.
And a sharp kick jabbed him in the leg. The little firebrand. He drew back his hand.
“Well, well, William. I must say I am impressed with such forethought.” Uncle Barlow stroked his jaw. “You will let me know at your earliest convenience, will you not?”
“Of course,” he said before Mina could speak.
Ignoring the sneers on his cousins’ faces, he blew out a long breath. That crisis had been averted, but he’d soon face an even bigger one—what to do about the dinner in two weeks.
CHAPTER SIX
Accidents will occur in the best regulated families.
David Copperfield
Dinner. Two weeks. In a fine London town house.
Uncle Barlow’s invitation sank to Mina’s stomach like one too many biscuits. As much as she was growing to like the man, there was no way she could attend. All the bright beauty of taking tea at Purcell’s faded as she glanced at Will. How she hated to disappoint him, but stealing away for an hour in the afternoon was altogether different from being gone an entire evening for hours on end. And now that she’d met his dear uncle, the thought of continuing their charade pricked her conscience.
The touch of Uncle Barlow’s hand atop hers pulled her gaze back to the old fellow, and her heart twisted at the affection shining in his grey eyes. Will’s uncle reminded her far too much of her grandfather, God rest his soul. Grandfather had been the only man to understand her love affair with literature … until now.
“It has been a delight to meet you, my dear. I look forward to seeing you again.” Uncle Barlow leaned closer, speaking for her alone. “When ‘all the knives and forks were working away at a rate that was quite alarming; very few words were spoken; and everybody seemed to eat his utmost in self-defense, as if a famine were expected to set in before breakfast.’” He reared back in his seat and challenged her with a tip of his chin. “Can you name that one?”
She couldn’t stop the smile that stretched her lips. “Martin Chuzzlewit.”
Uncle Barlow’s shoulders shook with a great chuckle. “Ahh, but you do a heart good.” Then he pressed his hands on the tabletop and stood. “And now, I bid you all adieu.”
Their chairs scraped back as one. “Good day, Uncle Barlow,” she said along with Will.
But Percy and Alice immediately swarmed the man, hooking their arms through his. “We shall be glad to escort you to the door.”
“No need.” He shrugged them off. “I may have a cough, but I am not feeble.”
Collecting his cane, he threaded his way through the tables and disappeared out the door.
Will offered Mina his arm, then squared off with Percy. “Until next time, Cousin.”
Percy scowled. “Indeed.”
As she and Will crossed to the door, Mina memorized every last inch of the tearoom, for she’d revisit it in daydreams to come. In the foyer, Will helped her into her coat, and when they stepped outside, she left Purcell’s behind feeling a curious mix of lightness and heaviness. That she’d have to tell Will she couldn’t attend the dinner weighed her down. So did the thought of the disapproval in Uncle Barlow’s eyes when he discovered the truth.
But regardless, as she stood next to Will while he hailed a cab, she couldn’t stop from curving her lips upward. It had been lovely to be a lady for an afternoon, so much so that if it weren’t improper, she would have thrown up her arms and twirled … but wait a minute. Her gaze shot to her arm—which lacked an overly stuffed reticule.
“Oh!” She laid her fingers on Will’s coat sleeve. “I’m afraid I left my bag back at the table.”
“Not to worry. I’ll retrieve it in a trice—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ll dash off. You hail a cab. If I stay any later, Father will get suspicious.”
Will’s brow crumpled, but at last he consented. “Very well.”
Turning on her heel, she darted back into Purcell’s and stopped at the concierge stand. “I’m sorry, but I believe I left my bag at the table.”
“It may have been cleared by now,” the fellow answered. “Yet you are free to take a look.”
Murmuring a thank-you, she hurried into the tearoom, trying not to look conspicuous as she rushed to the table in the rear corner. But the dishes had been removed. A new cloth awaited the setting of a fresh tea set, and no black knit bag sat beneath the chair where she’d laid it.
She pursed her lips. Oh, bother. Though the small pouch contained only her veil and no money, still, it was a good veil. Her only one. And she’d be sorry to lose it.
Retracing her steps, she worked her way to the side of the large chamber, where she’d have a straight shot back to the foyer. She’d barely made it when Percy and Alice appeared from the necessary rooms. Drat! Facing them with Will at her side had been hard enough. Alone she was no match. In two clipped steps, she flattened behind a large potted plant, using the greenery for cover.
As Will’s cousins drew close, Alice’s voice travelled a layer above the din of tea chatter. “There is no time to waste, especially if your uncle is to name the heir in two weeks. You must line up an appointment with the doctor and the administrator.”
“Yes, of course.” Percy grumbled. “Once the paperwork is signed, I’ll make sure Uncle goes the way of Aunt Prudence. Though William will no doubt put up a fuss once he finds out.”
“That is a problem … but what if he doesn’t hear of it? What if we simply lead him to believe your uncle is retiring to his country estate? William hasn’t visited there in years. I don’t see why he should start now.”
“He might, now that he’s got a wife.”
Their voices started to fade, and Mina wavered. It was wicked to eavesdrop, but judging by what she’d already heard, Will’s cousins meant some kind of harm to Uncle Barlow—harm that perhaps she could prevent. Edging away from the plant, she angled her ear to catch the last drift of their conversation as they moved toward the foyer.
Alice snorted. “Then we’ll tell your cousin that Uncle isn’t feeling up to company. Something about his cough or other such tale. Besides, once your uncle is committed to an asylum, he won’t last long. We’ll be the owners of the estate, and Will and his bride can go to kingdom come.”
“You are delightfully devious, my dear.”
Alice’s purr disappeared with her out the door, leaving Mina behind with a pounding heart and a righteous anger. Will’s cousins didn’t just want Uncle Barlow’s money. They wanted to destroy him.
And in the worst possible way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The plain rule is to do nothing in the dark, to be a party to nothing underhanded or mysterious, and never to put his foot where he cannot see the ground.
Bleak House
Sneaking a covert look into the foyer to make sure Will’s cousins were gone—and finding it empty—Mina dashed out of the tearoom.
“Miss!” The porter’s voi
ce stopped her retreat.
She stared at the reticule sitting on his upturned palm, but all she could think of were Will’s horrible cousins and their threat to Uncle Barlow. Would they truly shut the old fellow away? And if they did, how long could he possibly last?
“Is this your bag, madam?”
The man’s question rattled her from her dark thoughts, and she reached for the black pouch. “It is, and I thank you.”
Without another word, she whirled and dashed out to where Will waited at the side of a cab.
He offered his hand to help her step up, then looked closer at her face. “Are you all right? You look as if you’ve … hold on. Did you have to square off with Percy and Alice?” He shook his head. “I should’ve gone to retrieve your bag. Forgive me?”
She frowned. If only it were something so trivial. “There is nothing to forgive,” she murmured.
Clutching his hand, she desperately tried to figure out how to tell Will all she’d overheard. She settled her skirts on the cab’s seat, trying not to inhale overmuch. It was going to be a long ride home in a hackney that reeked of sardines and cigar smoke. As Will climbed in and shut the door, not even his pleasant bergamot scent could beat back the rank odour—or stop the sickening twist of her heart. Poor Uncle Barlow.
As soon as the cab rolled onward, she turned to Will.
But his words came out first. “Thank you, Mina, for everything. I daresay my uncle is completely smitten with you.”
A small smile trembled across her lips, for the feeling had been completely mutual. Not only had the old fellow quoted from some of her favorite books, but he also kept company with authors she longed to meet. “Your uncle Barlow is a dear old man. I see where you get your good humour. But there’s something I must tell you.”
He humphed. “Would that Percy might have gotten a smidgen of Uncle’s humour as well, hmm?”
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