The Mistress of Trevelyan

by Jennifer St Giles

  “You hate me,” Stephen said.

  I drew a deep breath and released it slowly before facing him. “No. I am angry. Why do you act as if your brother is wrong when he is the one who has been wronged?”

  Stephen’s expression went from despair to anger. “He judges and condemns without mercy, and not even heaven can help you if you fail. Do not ever fail him, Ann.”

  He left, his words deepening the chill of doubt wrapped around my heart. Judges and condemns without mercy? I couldn’t help but think of Francesca and her unborn child.

  Exiting Benedict’s study as I approached, Mr. Henderson stopped in front of me, a worried expression on his face. I forced a smile to my lips.

  “Miss Lovell, forgive my forwardness, but I fear I must caution you.” His gaze shifted to the doorway Stephen had disappeared through and then to Benedict’s study. “Never mind—even a fool can see you are not Francesca.”

  “I beg your pardon?”I couldn’t have been more shocked. In truth, my mind felt so fuzzy, I thought I’d mistaken his words.

  He sighed, deeply, as if a heavy sadness weighed upon him. “Francesca was too delicate, too sensitive. She was not for this world. Please forget what I said. You are not anything like her.”He caught my hand and brought it to his lips before I could react. “I will see you at dinner tonight.” Dropping my hand, he hurried in the direction Stephen had taken.

  “But—” My protest fell to a whisper. Why had Mr. Henderson felt it necessary to warn me? Stomach churning, I walked into the study with Francesca’s murder and the reasons behind it fresh on my mind. Benedict stood at the window, his large hand fisted in the curtains as he looked outside. I couldn’t see him as the man responsible for his wife’s murder. As before, a stream of late-afternoon sunshine beat a sure path into the gloom of the room and glistened off his rich raven-hued hair. His square jaw and Viking-broad shoulders appeared set, ready for battle.

  I decided to have my say before we had any other interruptions. Shutting the study door firmly, I marched into the room, feeling unsteady. Determined, I anchored myself in place by gripping the back of a wing chair.

  “Mr. Trevelyan, I cannot let you accept full responsibility for last night’s unfortunate incident. Indeed, I am entirely at fault for what happened. Not only did I gad about indecently clothed, but I provoked you with thoughtless words, then shamefully forced you to accommodate my spinster’s folly of knowing your kiss. I beg of you to forgive me, and you have my solemn vow that such a thing will never happen again. I have rediscovered my practicality and can assure you, I will wear it over my inappropriate tendencies like a suit of armor. I understand you are at a vulnerable point in your life, with your wife… no longer alive… and… I think you may have… mistaken me for her in your late-night passions…”

  I thought I had more to say, but found myself completely undone. I had no idea what his reaction was, for he simply continued to stare out the window, a completely unacceptable situation.

  Letting go of the chair, I marched his way. “Mr. Trevelyan. Did you hear anything that I said?”

  He moved like a flash of lighting against a stormy sky as he turned and grabbed my shoulders.

  “Every bloody word, Miss Lovell.” I blinked at the anger pouring from him in torrents of unspoken words. His eyes spit flames, his breath rasped harshly, and his roughly hewn face was so sharp, it seemed to slash through the air as he planted it an inch before my nose.

  “When did you receive a threatening note? And why in the bloody hell did you neglect to tell me about it?”

  “Who told you?”

  “Unlike you, my mother thankfully has some sense.”

  I’d just spilled my pride on the floor before him, and he wanted to talk about an inconsequential note! Spots wavered before my eyes. It didn’t matter that they were red spots, they still made me dizzy.“Mr. Trevelyan. I do believe I am so angry I am going to faint if I do not sit this instant.”

  His grip on my shoulders loosened, then tightened again.

  “That makes two of us, Miss Lovell. And if we are still standing in a moment, I do believe I am going to kiss you again, or throttle you. I cannot quite make up my mind which. But know this one thing, I have never and will never mistake you in any way for the ghost of a wife that I had. Do you understand?”

  “I quite think that I do,” I whispered, though I wasn’t even sure what he’d said. He exhaled sharply. His head lowered, and I shut my eyes. My lips parted, anticipating his kiss, without a thought to the vow that I’d just made. Only no kiss fell upon my trembling lips. His cool forehead touched mine, and his thumbs caressed my shoulders as his grip gentled. He groaned as if in pain, as he had last night within the intimacy of my room. The sound scraped across my heart.

  “I am sorry,” he said softly. “I should not touch you like this.”

  “It is all right,” I said, splaying my hand over his heart, feeling its strength and racing tempo through the cloth of his shirt. Suddenly exhausted and confused, I let my head rest on his broad chest.

  “Miss Lovell, you are quite warm, rather burning.”

  “I have no doubt, Mr. Trevelyan. You have this effect on me.” Where was my practicality? I didn’t have the strength to summon even a small measure of it.

  Still holding my shoulders, he eased back, concern creasing his brow.“Are you feeling ill?”

  “Surely not.” I straightened my shoulders. “Just a little fatigued and unsettled and flushed.”

  He lifted a hand to my cheek.“I think you have a fever.”

  “I assure you. I have a very strong constitution. I am never ill.”

  “I do believe, Miss Lovell, that I have told you before there most certainly is a first time for everything.” His gaze searched mine intently, and he brushed my bottom lip with his finger. “You have taught me that quite thoroughly.” He shifted, and before I had a clue what he meant to do, he swept me off my feet, into his arms, then marched to the door.“You are going to bed. Dobbs is sending for the doctor. And while we wait for him, you are going to tell me every bloody thing you have neglected to mention, starting with the threatening note.”

  “I insist you put me down this instant, Mr. Trevelyan. I am perfectly capable of managing on my own two feet. And I do not need a doctor. Perhaps a spot of tea and a good night’s rest will restore my constitution.”

  “Miss Lovell, as perverse as this may sound, you must desist from arguing with me. In fact, it is currently imperative that you do so, for now at least.”

  “I fear I cannot accept your high-handedness without protest, Mr. Trevelyan. I would be nothing but a dandelion seed in the wind if I did. Now put me down.”

  Releasing my legs, he let me slide down his body. I wavered when my feet reached the ground. Whether his nearness was at fault, or I truly was ill, I don’t know, but I was unsteady, and he knew it. Then he stepped toward me, pressing me against the study door. The full length of him intimately connected to my every curve. He shifted, and I immediately felt his hard, insistent arousal. His gaze bored into mine.

  “The reason you need to cease arguing, Miss Lovell,” he said softly, his deep voice rasping against my every feminine nerve, “is because you provoke my passions to a fever pitch when you argue with me.”

  “Goodness gracious,” I gasped as my mind and the room whirled.

  He shook his head, stepped back, and caught me before I fell. “Unfortunately, I do not see anything good or gracious about the situation, Miss Lovell. It is completely insane, which is exactly what you are if you keep insisting you are not ill. You have a fever. You are going to bed, and you are seeing a doctor. That’s final.”

  Whether he’d rendered me speechless or my practical nature decided prudence was the better part of valor, I don’t know. I do know I did not utter another peep of protest.

  As luck would have it, Dobbs stood in the foyer. His eyebrows climbed to the ceiling at the sight of me in Benedict’s arms. But he only nodded at Benedict’s order to send
for a doctor. I was torn between embarrassment, relief, desire, and outrage. But it wasn’t long before the warmth and safety of being in Benedict’s arms washed over me, and desire and relief won the upper hand. When I relaxed in his arms, I realized just how sick I felt. He climbed the three flights to my room as if he carried no greater burden than a porcelain doll. He wasn’t even winded when he set me on the bed.“Now, before the maid arrives to settle you into your nightclothes, I want the note. Where is it?” He towered over me, a huge chunk of granite determination wearing the same expression that Alexander the Great must have leveled on the vanquished Persian Empire.

  I looked at him, considered arguing, but then my gaze drifted lower. Noting his unmistakable condition, I decided to pick another battle, another day. For I had to be honest. I didn’t mind him seeing the note.“It is in the desk drawer.”

  Rather than watch his pantherlike grace as he moved across my room, I stared at the cloudy bed curtains. Now that Benedict had insisted on calling a doctor, I had to be honest with myself about another matter, too. I truly felt more miserable than I ever had, and my discomfort seemed to be growing by the minute.

  “What in the bloody hell is this nonsense? ‘Remain at your own peril.’ And signed as if Francesca had written it. What else has happened?” he demanded.

  Wincing at his anger and at the increasing discomfort in my throat, I explained the other things that had happened, ending with the destruction of the boys’ garden. “I am sure these incidents are tactics designed to get me to leave Trevelyan Manor. Please, do not be so angry. There has been no real harm done. The children and I have replanted the garden, and I expect new sprouts will be popping up soon.”

  It was amazing how in a blink of my eye he seemed to rope in all of his emotions like a cowboy tossing a lariat about the neck of a wild horse and bringing it to a halt. I could still see his power seething beneath his taut muscles, but it was a completely leashed power. “I am not worried about a bloody garden, Miss Lovell, but about your welfare. I will find the culprit behind these incidents.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “Do you not want to know who is behind this?”

  “Yes, but I want to fight my own battle. I do not want you stepping in and eradicating the conflict. It is a matter of principle and respect.”

  “Need I remind you, Miss Lovell, that this is my household. It is a matter of my honor.”

  “This is a huge house, Mr. Trevelyan, and if you consider every one in it a reflection on your honor, then I fear you are doomed to be dishonored. Might I suggest you rethink your stand?”

  Whatever Benedict was going to say was lost in a cry from the schoolroom. Before I managed to sit up, Benedict rushed through the door and came back into my room with little Robert in his arms.

  “I want Miss Wovell,” he cried. His eyes were squeezed shut, his voice sounded scratchier than mine, and his chubby cheeks were flushed a bright red. The child was clearly ill.

  “Please, let me hold him,” I said, reaching my arms out for him.

  “You are ill yourself,” Benedict said, cradling Robert. I could clearly see Benedict’s turmoil, wanting to comfort his son himself, but then wanting to give his son what he was crying for.

  “Please. I think both Robert and I will feel better if I do.”

  Benedict hesitated a moment more, then brought Robert to me. The child leaned his head against my bosom and sighed.“Miss Wovell, I feel awful.”

  I brushed his unruly hair back from his face. “I know, sugarplum. I feel the same way.”Even through my own fever I could tell the child was so hot he felt like he was on fire.“It is a good thing the doctor is already on his way.”

  “Yes.” Benedict’s voice was tight and full of frustration.

  I realized he desperately needed to do something to help. “Can you bring me a damp cloth from my washstand? When my mother was fevered, a cool cloth always soothed her. And then maybe you should check on Justin to make sure he is not ill as well.”

  Benedict spun into action. For a man so large, it never ceased to amaze me how quickly and quietly he could move. By the time the doctor arrived, Robert had settled into a fitful sleep beside me, and I almost couldn’t keep myself awake. My body was demanding that I rest.

  I’m not sure what happened after I drifted into a restless sleep. I think I saw the doctor, the maid, I felt the light cloth of my nightgown soothe my burning skin, and I know that I heard Benedict’s deep voice reassuring me that all would be well. I tried to ask him for Robert because I couldn’t find the little boy next to me, and I didn’t want him crying for me.

  “Rest, all is well,” I heard Benedict say, his strong hand holding mine. Then I must have dreamed, for I felt the coolness of a damp cloth upon my cheeks and about my neck, and time became a blur, as if I dreamed but could see nothing and feel only fire and pain. The only thing that assured me that I yet lived was the comfort of Benedict’s scent. I felt as if he’d enveloped me with it, and I continued to breathe, for I knew he was there. And I prayed that little Robert knew that I was with him in my heart.

  17

  I awoke suddenly, with a sense of impending doom lurking within the midnight shadows of my chamber. A lamp, turned low, sat across the room on the side table next to the winged reading chair. My throat, a desert past the point of parched, hurt and my body ached all over. I had to sit up, had to find out what was wrong, for I felt a terrible knot squeezing my heart.

  Moaning, I turned to my side and pulled off the light coverlet, noting the musky scent of sweat mingled with the far from fresh aroma of roses. It took a major effort, but I managed to slide my feet over the edge of the bed and push myself into a sitting position. The room wavered like a ship riding ocean swells, and I had to shut my eyes to quell the nausea.

  “Miss, you shouldn’t be gettin’ up now. Mr. Trevelyan will be sorely displeased.”

  Popping my eyes open, I saw one of the young cleaning maids jump up from the reading chair and rush my way. She wore a white cap on a head of bouncy red curls, and her freckled brow was crinkled with worry.

  “Where is…” I spoke, but the words mired in my throat and only sounded like a crackle.“Water,” I rasped again.

  “Yes, miss.” She fetched a glass of water from the ewer on my desk and brought it back to me. I could drink but a little; the soreness in my throat was like a raw scrape being rubbed with salt. “Mr. Trevelyan will be glad to see that you’ll recover. If only Master Robert would show some improvement. But I fear he only worsens.”

  My heart bounded with fear, and the sickening feeling that awoke me landed heavily in my stomach. “Robert? Where is he?”

  “Why, the nursery, miss.”

  I stood, wobbling unsteadily, as I clutched the coverlet and pulled it from the bed.

  “Miss, you need to be back abed. You’ve been very sick indeed. The doctor said scarlet fever. There’s nothin’ you can do for Master Robert. I should know, me mum did everything she could, and the fever still took my brother and sister. They were wee ones like Master Robert.”

  “No,” I cried, tears stinging my eyes. Pulling the coverlet with me, I moved as quickly as I could to the nursery with the cleaning maid fussing a trail behind me. The closer I drew, the tighter my stomach cramped, for the shadowing doom seemed to thicken the air with my every step.

  I stumbled through the door into the nursery. Benedict, on his knees beside the bed where little Robert lay, looked up at me. Tears streamed down his face, his expression bleak.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

  Benedict stood. He was a man completely undone, unshaven, soiled and rumpled, and without hope.

  “No. He cannot have died!” I cried, my heart breaking. God couldn’t have been so cruel. I forced my legs forward, determined to reach Robert, determined to wrap my arms around him and never let anything harm him.

  Benedict caught me. “There is nothing else to be done. The doctor just left. He does not think Robe
rt will make it through the—”

  I could see Benedict’s throat spasm and knew he couldn’t force any more words out. All he could do was shake his head.

  “He’s still alive!” As long as there was but one beat of the child’s heart left, there was hope. I pulled away from Benedict’s grasp and staggered to the bed. My arms ached as I scooped Robert up, but it didn’t matter. I needed to hold him. My heart broke as his body lay limp. Tears filled my eyes.

  I pulled him close against me and cried out to him. “Robert! Please, sugarplum, you have to wake up and get well. It’s Miss Wovell.” I kissed his fevered cheek and brought him as close as I could to my heart. I paced as I held him, rocking him in my arms as I spoke. “I need you to get well and help me. Why, we have so many things left to do this summer. The baby plants are sprouting in the garden. We have Justin’s birthday to plan, and it is going to be so much fun.”More tears fell from my eyes, and although a fire raged in my throat, I couldn’t stop talking to him. “Why, I even heard that a noted inventor will test his first streetcar right here in San Francisco. Just think, we could travel about without the need of a horse. And Cesca, she misses you terribly. So do you understand, sugarplum? There are just too many things that need to be done that I desperately need your help with. You must work very hard to get yourself better.”

  Benedict laid a hand on my shoulder. “You are only going to make yourself worse. You need to be resting.”

  “No! He needs me. He needs to know deep in his spirit that he is loved. If I have to cry to him with my last breath, so be it, but I will not stop until he hears me.”

  “My God, woman. You shame me.” Benedict moved like lightning, scooping Robert from my arms into his strong embrace. “Robert!” his deep voice boomed. “Wake up, son. I-I-I need you, son.”

  Robert moaned, shifting in his father’s arms a little. It was the first he’d moved since I’d picked him up. Benedict came to an abrupt stop. He stared at me, and I could see hope cut through the worn grief in his haggard face. I moved over and took Robert’s hand in mine, listening to the strength in voice. “Speak to him, sing to him, let him feel your love through the vibrations of your voice.”