Mutiny of the Heart

by McDonough, Vickie;

  He’d loved his brother, but they had never been close, even though they were twins. Their father had showed his favoritism toward Lucas from the time they were small. He knew it, and Marcus knew it. As a young boy, Marcus had been content with his mother’s attention—but not as he grew older and the reality of his situation sank in. He’d become increasingly disgruntled, and his behavior was abysmal.

  Keeping the child could well damage Lucas’s fine reputation. He considered Jamie, and his heart took wing. Could the boy be a gift from God? Lucas was being given the chance to raise Deborah’s son—the boy that should have been his son. Keeping Jamie would change many things in Lucas’s life. And what did he know about raising a child? Nothing. Yet he couldn’t turn family away. Jamie was Deborah’s son—and from this day forward, Jamie would become his son. He smacked the letter against his fist, his decision made, and turned to face the woman. “The boy can stay.”

  Relief washed over her face a moment before she buried her cheeks in her hands.

  “Is that not what you want?” Lucas asked.

  “Aye. But how will I ever say good-bye to him? He’s such a young lad. I’ve tended him ever since his mother died three years ago.”

  Lucas jerked back as if he’d been struck. “Three years! Why did you wait so long to bring him here?”

  Miss Hawthorne’s cheeks matched the red of his parlor settee, and she ducked her head. “I do not have the means you do. It took me this long to raise the money for the trip, and had I not traveled with a friend of my father’s, I’d not be here now.”

  “Why did you not write me? I could have sent the funds for passage.”

  She looked at him with skepticism. “I did not know how you’d receive the news and thought it better to come in person so that you could see how much Jamie resembles you.”

  Lucas narrowed his eyes. “And how is it you knew that when we’ve never met before?”

  “Deborah said Jamie was the spitting image of his father.”

  “Indeed.” Fortunately, he and his brother were identical twins. No one need ever know that Jamie wasn’t his son, no matter the scourge Lucas may face among his friends and business associates for birthing an illegitimate child. For the boy’s sake, he’d endure whatever came his way.

  At the sound of footsteps, he turned. Jamie trotted toward him, his relief evident when he saw Miss Hawthorne. Lucas glanced at her, noting again her simple beauty. Leaving Jamie would be terribly difficult for her, he was certain. He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. And what of the boy? He’d already lost his mother. The separation from his guardian could be devastating. Lucas would need a governess to care for the boy. Turning, he watched as Miss Hawthorne bent and gave Jamie a hug. Perhaps it would work best if she’d be willing to stay on until he could hire someone permanently. That would allow Jamie time to become comfortable in his new home and with him before Miss Hawthorne left.

  “Miss Abigail gave me corn pudding and a sweet roll.” Jamie’s eyes glowed.

  “You’ll have no room for your supper now,” Miss Hawthorne teased. She smoothed the hair out of Jamie’s eyes.

  Lucas’s heart swelled with love for the boy he’d just met. How was that possible? He shook his head and turned to his servant. “Langford, see that the room next to mine is made ready for Master Jamie.”

  Langford was a British immigrant who rarely showed emotion or expression of any kind, but at Lucas’s order, the butler’s gray eyes went wide. He looked from the woman to the child and back then leaned forward. “Surely you do not mean to keep the urchin, sir.”

  Lucas lifted a brow, surprised that Langford would question him, especially in public. “Please do as I say. As you can well see, the boy has my blood. He is a Reed and, as such, will be living here and deserves the same respect you’d give me. Is that clear?”

  Langford’s lips twitched, and his eyes narrowed, as if he thought Lucas had been taken in by a pretty wench and a sad story. But he dipped his head and started up the stairs.

  Jamie tugged on Miss Hawthorne’s skirt. “Are you staying, too?”

  She blinked her eyes and bent down, allowing Jamie to hug her neck. Patting his back, she said, “Shh … child, you belong with your father now.”

  “I don’t have a father,” Jamie wailed. “I want to stay with you.”

  “Aye, you do, and he’s standing right there, waiting to get to know you.”

  Sniffing, Jamie turned his head but kept it resting on Miss Hawthorne’s shoulder as he eyed Lucas. He offered the boy a smile and now regretted his initial harshness. But there were many who’d take advantage of his wealth, and while he didn’t mind helping the poor, he wouldn’t be taken in by a miscreant bent on swindling him.

  Stooping down, he hoped to make himself less intimidating. “How would you like it if Miss Hawthorne were to stay awhile, too?”

  A light sparked in Jamie’s eyes, making Lucas want to please the boy. Jamie leaned back and gazed up at her face. “Would you, Aunt Heather? Stay here with me?”

  She stood and straightened her dress then lifted a brow to Lucas.

  He realized he should have asked her before getting Jamie’s hopes up. “Could you stay a fortnight or so, to allow me time to find a proper governess and to give Jamie time to get to know me before you take your leave?”

  Her gaze roved the house, and he wondered what she saw. She seemed uncomfortable in his home. Had she never before lived in such a setting? He tried to see the home from her eyes, but everything was so familiar that he couldn’t. Once again, he realized how much God had entrusted to him, and he determined to do what he could to help others.

  Miss Hawthorne glanced down at her clothing. “I would like to stay and see Jamie settled, but I don’t belong here. I would embarrass you with my clothing and my lack of knowledge of American life. And I must catch the Charlotte Anne on her way back from the Caribbean to return home.”

  “Nonsense. Everyone in my employment receives the proper clothing and instruction for their position, although,

  I suppose you know far more about tending the boy than anyone here. I’ll see to it that you have some new clothes, and perhaps you could help me interview governesses. When the time comes for you to return, I’ll find a place for you on one of my ships.”

  “Say aye, Aunt Heather.” Jamie smiled and peered up at Miss Hawthorne. “We can both stay.”

  The woman gazed up at Lucas, and he had a difficult time not fidgeting. She stared at him as if taking his measure, but finally she nodded. “Aye, we’ll both stay, for the time being.”

  Lucas smiled, grateful the woman was willing to remain for a time for the boy’s sake. Langford made his way down the stairs and stopped in front of him. “The room is being readied, sir.”

  “Thank you. Now, I need you to inform the upstairs maid to make ready a room near the boy’s for Miss Hawthorne. She’ll be staying to care for Jamie until I hire a governess.”

  Langford’s nostrils flared, but he dipped his head. “As you wish, sir.” As he retrieved their bags and turned toward the stairs again, Lucas was certain he heard the man mutter, “Highly irregular.”

  He resisted smiling again and shook his head. Today he’d become the father of his brother’s son. Yes sir. Highly irregular.

  three

  “I’m starving, Aunt Heather.” Jamie rubbed his stomach. “Something downstairs sure smells good.”

  “Aye, and we’d better get down there, or we’ll not get to eat.” She took her ward’s hand and escorted him down the grand staircase. Last night she’d slept in a bed as big as her whole sleeping chamber back home, and it had been so soft she’d felt as if she were resting on a cloud.

  “This house is bigger than any in Nova Scotia.” Jamie stared wide-eyed up at the fancy ceiling with its decorative plaster works.

  “I don’t know as it’s bigger, but it certainly is fancier.”

  She stepped onto the entryway floor as Jamie leaned toward her. “Mr. Reed sure must be
rich. You think he’d buy me a pony?”

  “Oh Jamie. You disappoint me.” Heather shook her head and stared down at him. “You should be happy that you’ve been united with your father and not worry about things of the world.”

  Jamie ducked his head and kicked the bottom step with his shoe. “Aye, mum.”

  She tugged him close. How could she begrudge him wanting something nice? He’d had precious few things to call his own his whole life. Heather walked toward the kitchen, unsure where they would be expected to eat. She shook her head at the opulence around her. Yet as she studied the home, she realized the furniture was expensive but functional, and there seemed to be few useless extravagances and more practical items.

  Her family had enjoyed wealth—not to the extreme the Reeds did, but enough that they had lived a comfortable life. At least until the colonists rose up to fight for their independence. Her father had sunk his fortune into the war efforts, but in the end, Britain lost, and the Hawthorne family had little left. Her father, born into a wealthy family, was unacquainted with poverty and all but lost his will to live, finally succumbing a year ago. For that, she’d always despise the colonists—Americans, as they now called themselves.

  “Ah, there you are.” Lucas Reed walked toward her, tall and straight.

  Heather’s mouth went dry at the fine figure he cut in his loose linen shirt, gold waistcoat, and breeches tucked into the tops of his boots. His long, black hair was neatly tied back, emphasizing his strong jawline. No wonder Deborah fell for him. Heather straightened her spine as well as her resolve. Deborah had been a much younger woman, susceptible to the fantasies of youth, when she’d given herself to Lucas Reed, but Heather would not make the same error. Above all, she wanted a man who served God, not a blackguard who’d steal a young woman’s virtue and leave her to raise their child alone.

  Mr. Reed stared at her for a moment, and she couldn’t help squirming. She lifted a hand to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. What did he see when he looked at her? Was he appalled by her simple garment? If not for him and his kind, she’d still be back in England, enjoying her family’s wealth and the privileges that came with it. She might even be married by now and have her own child.

  “You must find those wool dresses dreadfully uncomfortable in the heat of the South. We need to make our first stop the dressmakers.”

  Heather’s cheeks felt as if she’d brushed up against the flame of a candle. How dare he. “I don’t believe my clothing is a proper topic of conversation.”

  The rogue had the gall to chuckle. “We can’t have you fainting dead away from the heat, can we?”

  Jamie tugged on Mr. Reed’s waistcoat. “I’m hungry, sir.”

  Lucas squatted down. “Are you now? We should do something about that then. Come.”

  He took Jamie’s hand, and the boy followed along, already trusting the man. Heather’s heart cracked. All too soon, Jamie would become comfortable here, and she’d have to leave, never to see him again. How could she bear it?

  At the doorway, Jamie looked back over his shoulder. “Come on, Aunt Heather.”

  She smiled, her fears tempered for the moment. Mr. Reed surprised her by sitting Jamie at the large table in the dining room. Most wealthy people relegated their young children to eating in the kitchen or the nursery. “Wouldn’t you rather Jamie and I ate in the kitchen?”

  “Bah! I don’t cotton to family not taking meals together. I’m sure Jamie will behave himself. Won’t you, boy?”

  Jamie nodded then reached for a sweet roll. Heather shook her head, and the lad’s eyes widened, but he lowered his hand to his lap. She sat, waiting for Mr. Reed to begin dining, but he just looked at her with those piercing eyes.

  “Before meals, I like to thank the good Lord for my food. Do you mind?” he said.

  She shook her head, even though she felt uncomfortable. Her father had never believed in God and had refused to allow prayers at mealtime.

  “Can you bow your head, Jamie?”

  “Aye, sir.” Jamie ducked his head, but he peered up at Heather.

  “Close your eyes, son.” Lucas smiled.

  Son. Family. Heather’s heartbeat raced at the words. Why would Lucas Reed so easily accept the child he’d adamantly denied yesterday? Until she’d given him Deborah’s letter, he’d been less than convinced. She glanced down at her hands while Mr. Reed blessed the food.

  When she returned home, she’d be all alone. Jamie had helped her heart, still aching from her father’s death, heal with his easy smile and frequent hugs. Oh how she’d miss him. Her eyes misted, but she blinked them dry and reached for the platter of sliced ham that Mr. Reed held out to her.

  “So, Jamie, tell me what you like to do.” Mr. Reed spooned porridge into his bowl and then added some honey.

  Jamie sat on his knees and reached for the sweet roll again. Heather decided to try a flaky bread shaped like a half-moon.

  “Aunt Heather’s teaching me my letters and how to read some.”

  Lucas nodded and smiled. “‘Tis a good thing for a boy to know how to read at such a young age.”

  Jamie sat a bit straighter. Lucas dished up a smaller bowl of porridge and passed it to him. “What else do you do?”

  Jamie’s eyes lifted toward the ceiling as he contemplated the question. “I help Aunt Heather make soap.”

  One of Mr. Reed’s brows quirked up. “Indeed.”

  Heather nodded, wondering what he thought of her profession. She needed some way to provide for herself and Jamie.

  “Aye. Indeed,” Jamie parroted. “I gather the wood for the fire.”

  As the meal progressed, Heather relaxed. In spite of the ire she held toward Lucas Reed for what he’d done to Deborah, she found the man likable and comfortable to be around. He didn’t maintain the snobbish reserve she’d expected from someone of his stature in society and wealth.

  When they were nearly finished with their meal, Langford strode in, his nose lifted high as if he were the one with all the money. “Waverly is here from the stable, sir.”

  “Very good.” Lucas turned his gaze on Jamie. “How would you like to visit the stable and see my horses?”

  Jamie bounced back up on his knees. “Truly? Aye, I would.” His gaze faltered as it shifted toward Heather. “Is it all right if I go?”

  She nodded. “Aye, but you should now be asking such questions of your father when he is in the room.” “But he’s the one who asked me.” Lucas chuckled. “I did at that.” “Will you go, too?” Jamie asked her.

  “I’d like to have a talk with Miss Hawthorne,” Mr. Reed interjected, “if you are agreeable.”

  Jamie eyed them both then shrugged. “All right.” Then he grinned. “I get to see the horses while you two just get to talk.”

  Lucas smiled, but the look he gave Heather sent a warm shiver down her back and made her think he felt he was getting the better end of the bargain. If she didn’t keep her guard up, she’d quickly be disarmed by his charm and friendliness.

  “Go with Langford, and then Mr. Waverly will escort you to the stable. Be sure that you do as Waverly says, and don’t get overly close to the horses. We’ll be right here in this room until you return.”

  “Promise?”

  “Jamie, you heard the man. Do not question your father.” Heather knew he was afraid she’d leave while he was gone. How would he bear their permanent separation?

  “Aye, mum.”

  Mr. Reed watched with pride in his eyes as Jamie followed Langford out of the room; then he switched his unnerving gaze on her. “Would you care for more tea, Miss Hawthorne?”

  Startled by his offer to serve her, she simply shook her head. Finally, she found her voice and pointed to the pastry she’d eaten. “These are quite good and so light.” “I fancy them myself. I first had one on a trip to France.” “They’re delicious.”

  Mr. Reed nodded. “Jamie is a fine boy. You’ve done well with him, especially since he wasn’t your own child.”


  Her heart clenched. Though he had complimented her, he’d only reinforced that the lad wasn’t hers to keep.

  “Thank you for bringing him here. I only wish I’d known about him before now.” He stared into his cup, and she thought he truly meant what he’d said.

  “So, how did Deborah come to live with you?”

  Heather’s ire returned, shoving away any compassion she might have felt for the man. “She was with child, unmarried, and too ashamed to return to her parents’ home.”

  Mr. Reed had the good sense to wince at her intentional barb. “Yes, well, if only she had come to me, I’d have done right by her.”

  She wanted to ask how he could be intimate with a woman of Deborah’s quality and then turn her aside like a trollop, but she couldn’t voice the words. How could he dally with a woman’s affections, take what he wanted, and just cast her away like bilge water? What she knew about Lucas Reed didn’t match the kind, open man before her. It was as if they were two different people.

  “Tell me about the Hawthornes. You have an English surname, but your Christian name is Scottish, I believe. Have you always lived in Canada?”

  “Nay, not always. My mother’s heritage is Scottish, but my father’s is English. About four years ago, shortly after my mother died, my father and I left England and settled in Nova Scotia. He is also dead now.” She left off the cause of her father’s death. Though she blamed the colonists and their desire for independence from England for her family’s demise, it was hardly fair to hold Mr. Reed personally to blame.

  He studied her for a moment, as if deciphering the reason for her angst. He sipped his tea then set down the cup. “My family was originally from England, too, although my grandfather moved to Barbados before coming to the colonies. I’ve visited relatives in England and done business there but have always called America my home. Besides this house, I own a plantation called Reed Springs. I’d like to take you and Jamie there sometime soon, after I conclude my business here. I think he’d be more comfortable where he has land for running around. And before you worry about us traveling together without a chaperone, my neighbors the Madisons will journey with us. They traveled here with me a fortnight ago, and we’re to return together. Also, my mother resides at the plantation.”