by Holly Bush
“What would your imagined knight in shining armor do for his damsel?” Andrew said as he stood. A rock dug into his bare foot and he hopped around as he rubbed it. He took Athena’s outstretched hand to steady himself. “Slay dragons? Climb towers? Not bloody likely.”
“And you’re so knowledgeable, I’m sure,” Athena said with a scowl. “Your idea of chivalry is more likely dragging some young chit off for nefarious reasons.”
Andrew straightened. “I’d rather kiss the damsel than die being chivalrous, Athena.”
Andrew was staring at her in the same fashion he had last evening. They had barely spoken the rest of the night but reverted to companionable squabbles by morning. He was ever so handsome in the light as it filtered through the trees. She was ever so plain. But he had said he loved her. Athena was not comfortable flirting. Was she flirting? He was still staring. She walked a few feet and looked over her shoulder. His eyes were still on her.
“What if the damsel would rather you not die?” Athena asked.
The corner of Andrew’s mouth hitched up. “Then I imagine she’d want to be kissed instead.”
They stood, staring at each other. A bloom of heat erupted between them as if a fire had been started. She licked her lips. He growled. They raced toward each other at the same moment. Teeth clicked. Foreheads bumped. Lips locked. They fell to the leaf covered ground in a flurry.
“Dear God, Athena. I have dreamed of kissing you like this,” Andrew said as he trailed his mouth over her neck.
“I never imagined any of this in my wildest dreams,” Athena whispered and ran her hands up and down his arms.
Smithly stared down at her under him. Her eyes were wide and trusting. His bare feet were growing cold. He would show her his love with his kisses if it took him all day.
* * *
Matilda returned to Maplewood smiling. Jack Steel would be able to begin work on Monday next. A full month till the work would be complete. She was just about to begin up the steps when her mother stopped her.
“Matilda, dear, your father needs you in his office immediately.”
She untied her bonnet. “He’s working on estate business this weekend?”
Frances Sheldon shook her head.
Matilda stared at her mother. She was ghostly white. “What is it Mother? What is the matter?”
“I don’t know, but do hurry, dear,” Frances said and took her daughter’s hat.
Matilda ran down the hallway past servants carrying chairs for tonight’s ball. She stopped, steadied her breath and knocked. “Father?” she said and opened the door.
Francis Sheldon was seated behind his massive desk. His face was a mask of worries. “Matilda, dear girl. Come in.”
Matilda hurried in and stood in front of her father’s desk. He looked close to tears. “What will we ever do without you?” he asked.
“Good God, man. Didn’t you hear me? The man’s a tradesman,” Thornsby said as he pushed away from his spot near the window. “You shan’t lose her. Just stop her.”
Matilda turned. What was he doing in here, looking angry and handsome, silhouetted against the afternoon sun? “Lose what? Why would you have to do without me? Father?”
Francis Sheldon came around the desk and led Matilda to a leather bound chair. “Tis a quandary. Nary an idea of what to do. Oh, dear Matilda. Whatever shall I do?”
Matilda stared at her father as she sat down. He dropped to one knee and held her hand. Matilda gasped. “Ethel. What has happened?”
“Ethel? She’s fine. Stopped to see her this afternoon and discourage her from ruining your mother’s butters.” He drew one hand to his mouth. “Can’t say I convinced her.”
“Who is Ethel?” Thornsby asked.
The Earl looked up. “Why, my mother, the Dowager Countess, of course. She lives here at Maplewood in the Dowager house.”
“Father. What has Ethel to do with why you’re upset?”
“Nothing as far as I know,” Fran said and smiled. That smile dropped quickly enough. “Although I imagine she’ll be up to mischief tonight at the ball.”
Thornsby slapped his head. “What about the tradesman. And your daughter. What we were discussing earlier.”
“Quite a dilemma,” Fran spoke softly and squeezed Matilda’s hand. He stared at her until Matilda squirmed. “Do you love him?”
“Love whom?” Matilda asked. “And why is he here?” She glanced at Thornsby. He was glaring back.
“He’s a guest this weekend, Matilda.” Francis Sheldon rose. “May I present my daughter, Matilda. The Duke of Thornsby.”
“I’ve met him, Father.” She glared at the Duke as he let out a curse. “Now you were asking me something. If I loved someone. Do finish your thought.”
“Oh, yes,” Francis’s face clouded. “I would never deny you anything, Matilda. And you being full of goodness and kindness could hardly imagine there are evil people in this world. Persons who are not always what they appear.”
“I know there are people that are not what they seem,” Matilda said to the worry lining her father’s face.
He swallowed. “And you being as bright as you are, really the brightest of the Sheldons, may still not understand an evil person’s designs.”
“What evil person?” Matilda whispered.
“The tradesman.”
“Father. You are speaking in riddles. Do tell . . .”
“I followed you, Miss Sheldon,” Thornsby bellowed. “I saw you and your young man. Heard you making plans for all of your children.”
It took a full minute for the Duke’s words to sink in. When they did, Matilda was so angry she shook all over. Her father’s hand reached out. She brushed him aside. Matilda turned her fury on the Duke. “And who gives you the right to follow me?” She laughed a shrill laugh and held her hand to her head. “Scaring my poor father half to death.” She turned to Francis Sheldon, his eyes wide. “And you Father! Believing this, this, sneaking miscreant! How could you?”
“He is a Duke, dear. Generally honorable men as men go and . . .”
“More honorable than some heiress-hungry workman, spending your money!” Thornsby shouted.
“Honorable! You followed me. Drew your own wicked conclusions and then presented these lies to my father.”
Thornsby voice dropped to a whisper. “Lies? Then what is the truth but what I saw and heard with my own eyes and ears?”
Matilda wanted, oh, she wanted, to send the Duke on his merry way. But then she would miss the look on his face when she explained. She lifted her head slowly and stared at her father. “I have been considering becoming involved with a charity of some kind, as you know. I have decided to open an orphanage. I have purchased a house through Ethel’s man of business for this very purpose. The tradesman the Duke of Thornsby saw me speaking to today is just that. A tradesman I have hired to do the necessary work.”
Francis Sheldon shook his head. “Then you don’t love him?”
“No, Father. He is a very nice young man. He grew up in an orphanage himself and is doing the work for a very reasonable price. But no, I don’t love him.”
“Capital, Matilda, capital.” Francis’s eyes lit up. “An orphanage. Ambitious idea, dear. What can the family do?”
Matilda’s breath left on a hitch. She hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of not telling her family had plagued her. Simpletons they may be, but they would stand behind her. Matilda turned her face and fury to the Duke, bumped into the leather chair and her glasses flew off her face. When she retrieved her them, wired them around her ears and looked up, she was severely disappointed. The Duke was gone.
* * *
An orphanage! If he didn’t know better, he would have thought it was his own sister that bested him. It would be just like Athena to pull a similar stunt. Too independent and the father, well, the father just smiled. He’d made a quick escape from the Earl’s study. By damn, he wasn’t waiting around for her to throw it all in his face. Even knowing the misunderstandi
ng, the woman still had no business riding around alone. Buying houses alone. Opening an orphanage on her own. And all with the Earl’s encouragement!
Thornsby stormed up the grand staircase. He heard his sister and Smithly arguing at the top of the steps.
“I will do no such thing.”
“I insist, Athena.”
“As if I care a fig what you insist on.”
As Thornsby broached the top step, he relaxed. There was something comforting about the sound of Smithly and Athena’s arguments. Athena’s back was to him. She was facing Andrew in front of the door to her room. Athena’s finger was flying, and Andrew was hissing. Ah, the sound of sanity, Thornsby thought to himself. But that very moment cut the thin thread of reason he clung to.
Suddenly and with no warning the two embraced as if a pair of bulls slammed into each other at full charge. Thornsby mouth dropped. Smithly’s hand fell to his sister’s behind, and leaves floated gracefully to the carpet. Thornsby was running now to the pair. He was close enough to hear his sister groan.
“Athena. Smithly,” he shouted.
The pair turned with a start.
“Freddy. Pray don’t sneak up on a soul like that. I nearly had my death,” Athena said.
“Whatever are the two of you doing? In the hallway of all places.” Thornsby stood hands on his hips, glaring his most intimidating scowl. Athena was straightening her skirts. Smithly stared back.
“Next time will be in private, Thornsby,” Andrew said.
“There will be no next time,” Thornsby shouted.
“Athena is old enough . . .”
“I’ve no need of your defense, Andrew.” She faced her brother. “I am older than you, Freddy. You’ve no hold over me. Although I don’t intend for a next time to take place, I needn’t have your approval if it did.”
Thornsby ran a hand through his hair. This is why the wren got under his skin. She was exactly like his sister. Bold. Clever. By damn, he’d best marry some mindless dull girl. He couldn’t take much more. He looked up at the two of them. Andrew’s hand was around his sister’s waist. Athena’s arms were crossed tightly over her chest and her lips knotted closed as if they’d been threaded. But she did not step out of Smithly’s embrace. Thornsby walked past them to his own room. He closed the door on the sudden mayhem in his life.
Thornsby sagged. Where had his orderly life gone? His life of running Winterbourne. A drink at his club. Perhaps a game of cards. His newspaper. The occasional foray to the theatre. Where had it all gone? Thornsby bellowed to his valet. He instructed the man to pack his things forthwith. All would be well when he returned to Winterbourne.
Chapter Six
Monday evening brought a close to the chaos as the last guest left just after midday. Matilda sat at supper with her family in attendance but one. Franklin and Suann were in town with Suann’s family.
“Horseradish in the punch,” Fitz said as he stuffed his mouth.
“Why would there be horseradish in the punch, and what does it have to do with Lady Anne’s malady?” Frances Sheldon asked her son.
“Saw Grandmamma dump it in the bowl myself, I did. Lady Anne was the first at the punch,” Fitz replied, not missing a forkful in the process.
“And Finch did not make an offer this weekend, Juliet?” Fran Sheldon asked his eldest daughter. “His father implied he would.”
“I wonder what changed his mind?” Alexandra asked.
“Of all things for Ethel to do,” Frances said to no one in particular. “Lady Anne was really quite sick.”
“I’m glad he didn’t offer for me this weekend.” Juliet pinched her nose. “He has an odor about him.”
“I wonder if Thornsby sampled the punch as well,” Frances said, eyes wide.
“He left before the ball, Mother,” Matilda said.
“True,” Frances said. “His sister and Smithly seemed to enjoy themselves enough.”
“Hanging all over each other through the waltz,” Fitz added.
“What does Finch smell like, Juliet?” Alexandra asked.
“Thornsby left too embarrassed to be seen, mark my words,” Fran said.
“What would the Duke have to be embarrassed about?” Juliet asked.
“He slandered our girl, my Matilda, right in my library. He’ll mind his words in the future I’m sure,” Fran said.
“Slandered our Matilda?” Frances asked. “I hope you set him to rights, dear.”
All of the dueling conversations ceased waiting to hear Fran Sheldon’s story.
“I certainly did, my dear. Won’t have anyone, even a duke, talk nonsense about Matilda or any of you. I set him straight in short order,” Fran said and looked at Matilda. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Matilda smiled at her father’s late-coming righteous indignation. “You certainly did, Father.”
“What could he have possibly have said about Matilda?” Alexandra asked.
Fran Sheldon gestured with the spoon from the dish of peas. “Said she was having a tryst with a common laborer.”
Frances Sheldon covered her mouth with a gasp.
“No,” Juliet said.
“A tryst? How dreadful,” Alexandra added.
“Where in heavens name did he ever get an idea like that?” Frances asked, hand on her heaving chest.
Fran Sheldon smiled broadly. “Our dear Matilda is going to open an orphanage. What say you?”
“An orphanage?” Alexandra repeated.
“A tryst with an orphan?” Juliet asked.
“Always thought orphans as being too young for that sort of thing. Been wrong before, though,” Fitz said and motioned the footman for more dessert.
“The person the Duke saw me talking to is a tradesman I’ve employed to fix the house I’m going to use as an orphanage. Thorny drew his own dreadful, wicked conclusions and told Father,” Matilda said to clear the air.
“I thought his title was Thornsby?” Alexandra asked.
“Just a play on words. His name is Thornsby,” Matilda added.
“Tee Hee. I get it now. Thornsby. Thorny. How clever, Matilda,” Juliet said with a laugh. She sobered. “I don’t like him casting aspersions on your character. Not one little bit.”
“We will call him Thorny the next time we see him, Juliet,” Alexandra said with a giggle.
“I will never speak to him again,” Juliet said. “Not ever.”
“There is no need for you to trouble yourself, Juliet. I don’t care what the man thinks of me or my orphanage,” Matilda said.
“Where does one find orphans?” Frances asked.
Fitz nodded. “To be a real orphanage, you’ll need orphans, I’d say.”
“Never a shortage, unfortunately,” Matilda said. She continued on, telling them about her plans and her house. They, to Matilda’s shock, listened intently, interrupting very few times for her family. “So I’ve had meetings with clergyman. I imagine they know more orphans than I can possibly house.”
Matilda looked around the table. Her family was staring at her. Then they plied her with questions. Had she gone to see the clergymen, unescorted? She assured her mother, she had not. Ethel had come along. Why was she doing it? She had the means and the need was apparent. How did she come up with the idea?
Matilda shrugged and answered honestly. “I really haven’t any notion.”
“Well, whatever the reasons,” Frances said with a sigh, “we simply must help.”
“Right you are, dear,” Fran replied.
The room was silent, and Matilda looked at her parents and siblings, now deep in thought. All but Fitz. He stabbed the remaining beef from Juliet’s plate and ate it. Matilda was mentally counting the cash contributions her family might be willing to part with.
“I shall have Cook purchase all the food stuffs you’ll need,” Fran said. “Franklin and I will deliver them.” He nodded to his daughters.
“We could make curtains,” Juliet ventured.
“How dull,” Alexandra said. “No, Juli
et, you and I will make the orphans their clothes.”
“Splendid,” Juliet said to Alexandra. “Or lessons on the pianoforte. Will there be a pianoforte, Matilda?”
“I could teach the boys to fence,” Fitz said. “Even orphans should know how to fence.”
Matilda’s eyes were wide. Her family was taking their contributions very seriously. Her father had never delivered anything anywhere. Juliet and Alexandra’s sewing never reached farther than samplers. And Fitz had volunteered to teach the young boys to fence of all things. Her mother sighed.
“It must be done. I will cancel my Costly Colours games with Lady Fitzroy from this day forward. Will be the only way to have time to do what I must,” Frances Sheldon said. She smiled fondly at Matilda. “I intend to do my very best for Matilda’s orphanage.”
“What is it you intend to do, Mother?”
“Why teach the classroom, of course.”
Everyone around the table was nodding and making plans. Matilda looked at her Mother. She knew for a fact that neither of her sisters could spell from their time when Frances Sheldon helped in the classroom to the obvious dismay of the governess. But she could hardly doubt her family’s enthusiasm. She could never break their hearts and refuse their gifts.
“Wonderful,” Matilda said and raised her wine glass. “The Sheldon Home for Children appreciates all you’ve offered.”
All shrieked, each one, when Matilda announced the name.
* * *
“Have I had a message from Lady Athena, Withrow?” Thornsby asked his butler. It was Friday evening, and Athena should have arrived home by now. After leaving Maplewood, she’d intended to stay a few days with a friend of hers, Lady Wilma, in London. He’d ridden his horse home and left the coach and footman to see Athena to her destination
“Nay, sir. I have not,” the starchy servant replied.
“I wonder where she could be,” Thornsby asked aloud. There was no one in the dining room to answer his question other than a footman posted at the door. He sat alone at the head of a twenty-five-foot length of gleaming mahogany. Thornsby and Athena had dined together nearly every night, with Smithly sometimes. The thought of Smithly kissing Athena in the hallway made him clench his teeth, and he smacked his sterling fork on the table.
