Reunited With Her Viscount Protector (Lords And Their Ladies Book 6)

by Mary Brendan

  ‘You do, sir,’ Dawn replied, but had no intention of enquiring how he was. ‘Take a seat if you will.’ She indicated a chair.

  He fluttered some indolent fingers, declining the offer. ‘I have come to collect the child. I have an invitation from Lord Sterling to go immediately to Croxley Grange so will be heading home shortly.’

  Dawn felt as though she’d received two physical blows. So he was claiming Lily and he wanted to taunt her with Jack’s absence. She curled her fingers about the chair back to steady herself. She wouldn’t let him see how he had affected her and paused to control her voice before replying. ‘Lord Sterling is going to Essex?’

  ‘Oh...did you not know?’ Peter feigned surprise. ‘I imagined he might have told you. You seem such...close friends,’ he purred. ‘His Lordship penned me a note so I’m aware he is even now at Wivenhoe. He set off last night, eager to get there as soon as may be. Obviously there is nothing of importance to keep him in London and he wants to be with his future wife.’

  Dawn avoided Peter’s horribly spiteful smile by rearranging a candlestick on the mantel. Yesterday Jack had taken charge, removing the vicar from her house to protect her from humiliation. But he wasn’t here to perform that office now. He had returned to Sarah without even telling her of it. She instinctively knew Mansfield hadn’t made up the story to rile her, though he was undoubtedly capable of such nastiness. Now she understood Jack’s reticence to call on her late last night. He had come back to see her to tell her he intended to quit town but, in the event, hadn’t found the courage to do so. He’d obviously concluded that a clean break would be best and had headed straight to Wivenhoe.

  Putting distance between them in case Mansfield caused mischief was sensible. A week ago Dawn would have been the one to suggest they took such a course of action to avert a scandal. But not now. She couldn’t forget the bittersweet passion they’d shared and she was greedy to have more of it...but on what terms? She wanted Jack, despite knowing it was wrong and despite knowing she must always come second. He’d made his difficult choice and she loved and respected him the more for it. Yet, if all he could ever give her were crumbs of his time and affection, would she be tempted to snatch at them?

  She mustn’t! Dawn clenched her hands at her sides and took a deep breath, trying to stiffen legs that felt like jelly and a backbone that seemed pitifully weak. She must be strong and follow Jack’s lead; she must let him go as he had cut her adrift. All she had left was her pride and her granddaughter. She would fight like a tigress to keep both.

  Do not condemn him too soon...before you know for sure that his conscience proved after all to be stronger than yours. The post might bring a letter of explanation, she comforted herself. He might not have so brutally severed ties.

  Peter had shifted to a position that enabled him to observe the raw emotions that were flitting over Dawn’s features. He could see that she was hurt and bewildered...and indignant by what she believed to be the Viscount’s defection. It pleased Peter to think he might have so easily started to drive a wedge between the lovers. From beneath his brows he ran a lustful eye over her lush figure. Oh, he could understand what the Viscount saw in her. She might not be in the first flush of youth, but she had the firm flesh of a woman who had never swollen with child. Her pert bosom and curving hips were separated by a sweetly slender waist that seemed to beg a man’s hands to girdle it. Her face, though not strictly pretty, had a classical, almost handsome set to the features. Well-defined dark brows soared above large eyes of the most glorious green and her full pink mouth was enough to lure his eyes and start him thinking of kisses and more...

  Peter had always thought Dawn an attractive and desirable woman. From the moment they’d been introduced he’d known that he’d sooner bed Thomas Fenton’s wife than his daughter. She didn’t feel anything similar for him, but Peter wasn’t put off by the idea of breaking a woman to his will. He’d punished his late wife...as the wanton had deserved. And he always chose the whores who tried to hide from him.

  Dawn’s attraction for him also lay in the fact that she’d beguiled a powerful man. Once he’d read the letter that Sterling had sent to her Peter had been in no doubt that the man was smitten with Mrs Fenton. She was the Viscount’s weakness.

  And Dawn’s weakness was her granddaughter. Peter was banking on her agreeing to do anything to keep the child. So, he should strike now while she was feeling vulnerable, believing her lover had abandoned her and her granddaughter would soon be lost to her. Never would he more easily persuade her that what she needed was an ally.

  ‘Please arrange for my daughter to be readied for the journey.’ Peter perched on the edge of a chair. ‘Perhaps some tea while I wait...’ He took out a snuff box and used a pinch, looking very much at his ease.

  ‘Lily is settled here,’ Dawn blurted, striving to hide her panic. ‘Why do you want to take her with you? She has made friends with the Houndsmeres’ son,’ she added in desperation.

  ‘I must thank you for introducing the child to such worthy people. When next we are in town I shall accompany my daughter on a visit to your noble friends. I do regret that I haven’t the time on this occasion. Lord Sterling has summoned me and that fellow wields influence in my neck of the woods. I won’t let him down.’ Peter added smoothly, ‘Perhaps we could all visit the Earl and Countess on another occasion...as a family.’ He got to his feet and took out his pocket watch, consulting it with a sigh. ‘I need no tea...the hours are flying by.’

  ‘You must allow me time to explain to Lily. She is young, but bright and sensitive, too. Another disruption in her life will greatly upset her. She has not seen you for so long she may be confused as to who you are.’ Dawn had moved to the door as though to bar him going to get his daughter. Even when Lily had lived beneath her father’s roof the two of them might have been strangers for all the notice they took of one another. ‘I beg you will allow me a few days to talk to her. If you return at the end of the week, it will give me time to prepare her for the journey.’

  ‘I understand your concern and it does you credit. You are fond of the child.’ Peter sauntered to Dawn to take one of her hands in his. He patted at it, but when his fingers started to stroke her skin she immediately pulled free of him. ‘It is indeed commendable that you feel so deeply for her, being as you are no real kin,’ he reminded Dawn of her place in the same mild tone. ‘The child needs a woman like you to mother her.’

  ‘Indeed, she does...’ Dawn started to relax, even managing to return him a tight smile. Was this a sign of negotiation? Would he back down? She believed she knew the Reverend Peter Mansfield well enough to guess that, if he did, he’d angle for something in return.

  She imagined he hadn’t yet engaged a nurse and neither did he want to, due to the expense involved. ‘You wish to take Lily to Essex, but who there will care for her, sir?’

  ‘Well...you may continue to do so, my dear, if you agree to accompany me back to Wivenhoe. I know you have friends in town, but you have a friend in Essex, too...in the Viscount. Perhaps it might suit you to again be close to him.’

  Dawn felt heat flood her complexion at that bold insinuation. So he knew very well who she yearned to be with. And it wasn’t just her granddaughter.

  So what would she do? Return to Essex with him to stay close to the two people she cared most about? ‘You must allow me some time to think about this. I am not prepared to make a snap decision.’

  ‘Very well, my dear.’ Peter sounded the soul of consideration. ‘I shall allow you your way and return tomorrow. But I cannot wait longer. I go home tomorrow to attend to business and, with or without you, will take the child with me.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Why...Mrs Broome...what a lovely surprise to find you here.’ Dawn’s voice held mingling astonishment and delight at seeing a friendly face.

  ‘La...it is good to see you, too, Mrs Fenton. I had no idea you’d be co
ming back with the master. He told me you had returned to London and taken his daughter with you for a holiday after that sad business with her mother.’ Mrs Broome clucked her tongue and glanced at the little girl. ‘What a terrible shock that must have been for you all.’

  ‘Yes...it was.’ Dawn’s last recollection of Eleanor, frightened and in pain, would always haunt her mind, especially here. The fine vicarage should have made a cosy home; instead an oppressive atmosphere always made her heart sink on stepping over the threshold. She thanked the lord that Lily, too young to be aware of what had happened, wouldn’t be tormented by bad memories of her mother as she grew.

  ‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting the little lass.’ Mrs Broome injected some jollity into her tone. ‘The master said he’d bring her home so I’ve prepared her room. What a pretty little thing she is.’

  So, it had been no spur-of-the-moment decision that Mansfield had made to reclaim Lily, Dawn realised. ‘Indeed, we shall stay in Essex...for a short while,’ she replied carefully. ‘You’ve brought kittens with you.’ She changed the subject, a smile in her voice. Her granddaughter had crouched down to look at two squirming bundles of black and white fur in a basket in the corner of the kitchen.

  ‘The master wasn’t keen on letting me keep them, but I told him they’ll turn into good mousers. I’m used to having a cat guarding the larders.’

  ‘Lily has taken to them.’ Dawn wondered why she’d not thought of getting a pet for her granddaughter.

  ‘Well, let me make you a nice cup of tea after your journey. I’ve baked a currant cake. I bet you’d like a slice, wouldn’t you?’ Mrs Broome chucked the child under the chin. ‘The poor little mite looks done in. I expect she needs to get early to her bed.’ The woman set the kettle to boil on the hob.

  Dawn, fatigued from lack of sleep and constant worry, settled herself and Lily at the kitchen table.

  During the journey to Essex in the creaky hired rig, little conversation had passed between them. But the vicar had briefly answered one of Dawn’s questions before crossing his arms over his chest and starting to doze. He had employed a new housekeeper and the woman seemed competent. Dawn had been glad to hear it. She’d not relished the idea of taking on that chore. Lily had been well behaved from the moment they’d set out, playing with her doll or napping. But she had asked her grandma about her friend Bernard. The little girl had been pleased to hear she would see him again soon. And so had the vicar seemed contented by that answer. A beam of satisfaction had tipped up his fleshy lips, although he hadn’t opened his eyes.

  Much as Dawn would have liked to snooze away the miles she had been fretting too much to do so. The previous night had seen her rampant thoughts denying her any rest during hours that seemed endless. When the sky was at its blackest she had abandoned her bed to stare out of her window. Wishing on a star wouldn’t help, she’d scolded herself. Spurring herself into action, she’d dragged her carpet bag from the top of her clothes press. For a frantic ten minutes she had packed her things; the idea of fleeing with her granddaughter to somewhere that Mansfield wouldn’t find them had seemed a sensible solution at three o’clock in the morning. With first light came the return of her reason.

  Such mad behaviour would gain her nothing but a charge of abduction. A court would side with the child’s father and she could be banned from ever again seeing her granddaughter. As a blush on the horizon had brightened her bedchamber she had continued making ready to travel...to Essex. With heavy heart she knew she had only two choices: let her granddaughter go, or move to the vicarage to care for her. But she would never stop trying to persuade Peter Mansfield that his daughter’s prospects...and also his own...would be better served if Lily were raised in town, socialising with the Earl of Houndsmere’s son. Intuitively Dawn understood that if Lily were to thrive she needed to be kept at a distance from her father.

  Dawn knew she would work tirelessly to bring about their return to London. Jack might have put distance between them, but she was certain he wouldn’t turn his back on her. If things got unbearable for her and Lily at the vicarage, she would swallow her pride and ask for his help. Mansfield believed he had her pinned beneath his thumb, but he had a weakness, too. The fellow still seemed in thrall to the benefits to be had from being classed as Lord Sterling’s friend. Dawn was well aware that Jack despised the vicar as much as she did, but was confident he would play along with it, promising Mansfield all manner of pomp and circumstance while throwing his weight behind reasons why Mrs Fenton and her granddaughter should return to town.

  And, in the meanwhile, the unexpected, wonderful discovery that she had a friend at the vicarage had given Dawn a boost. She was curious to know how Mrs Broome’s employment had come about.

  ‘Well, do you remember my daughter taking a fancy to that lad at the Bell?’ the woman commenced answering Dawn’s question. ‘She found out there was a vacancy going and took a fancy to having that, too. Now Betty’s a tavern maid and the couple are sweethearts, hoping to wed next spring.’ Mrs Broome set the cups while carrying on her tale. ‘Once she up and left I couldn’t afford the rent on my cottage so needed full-time work, or another husband.’ She guffawed. ‘I decided to stay fancy free and looked for a position as a cook. I heard that the vicar at Wivenhoe had lost his wife and was advertising for a housekeeper so applied for the job. I remembered you saying he was kin of yours and took that as a good sign.’ She poured tea, frowning. ‘Anyway, he offered me the position and I took it.’

  ‘And do you regret it?’ Dawn felt rather guilty that her connection to Peter Mansfield had been taken as a recommendation about his character.

  ‘Not yet...’ Mrs Broome replied diplomatically. ‘If ever I do regret it, then I’ll leave. Now my daughter’s marrying Sam Crocker I might head towards London and better opportunities if things don’t turn out right for me here. The girl’s got to stand on her own two feet, like I had to. Betty will be sixteen when she weds; that’s the age I was when I got married. Then the following year my daughter was born and the year after that I lost my husband to the influenza. It’s always been just me and her, but I can cope with life on my own.’

  ‘Indeed, I believe you can,’ Dawn said admiringly. This was no Mrs Grove, scared of her own shadow and believing in hobgoblins haunting the area. Dawn felt blessed to have the unexpected boon of Mrs Broome’s company during her stay.

  ‘And so are you one of life’s capable sorts, so I reckon,’ Mrs Broome returned the compliment.

  Dawn smiled and drank her tea, wondering if the vicar understood how strong a character his new employee was. It was hard to believe that the woman was barely older than she was herself. The housekeeper looked closer to forty than thirty. But Dawn could tell she was energetic just by observing her going briskly about her business in the kitchen.

  ‘I like to go into town and run errands so if you’ve something needs fetching, just you tell me.’ Mrs Broome gave a smile. ‘’Course I don’t venture out much at night and neither should you, m’m. But I expect you already know about all of that from when you were here before.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Dawn hoped she wasn’t wrong in thinking the new housekeeper was more down to earth than her predecessor.

  ‘The smugglers.’ Mrs Broome bluntly explained. ‘We all know about them, of course. But everybody holds their tongues. See no evil, hear no evil.’ She dropped a wink.

  ‘Smugglers?’ Dawn’s chuckle faded away as she saw the woman was deadly serious. Dawn had heard about the illicit trade, of course; it was common knowledge that contraband reached London. But she had no proper idea of what went on along the coast and how smuggled goods were brought ashore from France.

  ‘Some folk says free traders are a good thing,’ Mrs Broome whispered, tapping her nose. ‘How else would the likes of commoners afford tea and lace like rich people do?’

  ‘Ah... I see you have met Mrs Broome.’ The vicar had entered
the kitchen, unseen and unheard by the conversing women until the moment he chose to make his presence known.

  Dawn felt a familiar chill cloak her, recalling how months ago he’d crept up on her in the kitchen when she’d been speaking to Mrs Grove. They’d been discussing how poorly Eleanor seemed and how the vicar appeared careless of his wife’s deterioration and suffering.

  ‘I’ve made tea for Mrs Fenton, sir. Would you like a cup before dinner?’ Mrs Broome appeared indifferent to discover he’d been listening to her gossiping.

  Peter inclined his head. ‘I shall have a tray in my study, Mrs Broome.’ He turned to Dawn. ‘Perhaps you and the child should take your refreshment upstairs. The parlour would be a more appropriate place for a lady.’

  ‘I’m content here, thank you.’ Dawn was aware of the emphasis he’d put on ‘lady’. He wasn’t about to let her forget that he knew about her indiscretion with Lord Sterling. And she wasn’t about to let him dictate to her how she behaved. ‘Lily likes watching the kittens while I talk to Mrs Broome.’ She intended to frequently seek the woman’s company so he might as well get used to seeing them together.

  ‘As you wish, Mrs Fenton. We can talk about things at dinnertime in any case.’

  Dawn knew the only way she could tolerate being under his roof was to spend as little time as possible in his company. She wasn’t going to dine with him but with her granddaughter, then she would retire early. Peter went out again and she turned back to her cake, taking a bite. It was delicious and she told Mrs Broome so. She asked for another slice and received a beam of pleasure along with a thicker wedge of crumbly currant cake. Dawn was determined not to allow Mansfield to deflate her good mood. Yet at the back of her mind she was wondering whether she should, after all, have taken her chances absconding from London with Lily.

  * * *

  The following morning Mrs Broome was in the process of clearing away the breakfast crockery when she announced, ‘I shall be off to town later this afternoon. Cupboards need filling. Can I fetch you back anything, m’m?’