by Cheryl Holt
“I’m going to tell you two things I shouldn’t,” Libby said. “It will stir even more discord with your father, but in the future, there may be wild rumors circulating about me, and I want you to hear the truth.”
“I’m delighted you feel that way. I can see that you’re distressed. Please unburden yourself.”
“First, you’re correct about Lord Barrett and me. I can’t speak to his level of attachment, but as for myself, I’m madly in love with him.”
“I knew it!” Penny staunchly declared.
“When I came to Roland, I had no idea about your connection to him. I swear it! Nor was I aware he’d be a guest too or that he was about to betroth himself. I especially wasn’t aware of that. He didn’t bother to apprise me.”
“Of course he didn’t!” Penny suffered a wave of indignation on her behalf. “Isn’t that just like a man to trick you over it?”
“I had actually traveled to the country to escape him. Our amour bubbled up so swiftly that it scared me. I couldn’t deduce how to tamp it down so I thought—if I disappeared from London— he’d grow tired of the chase. But then, I arrived here, and he was here too. It’s an impossible situation.”
“You can put your mind at ease about it. I won’t wed him! I promise you. If you part with him later on and can assure me it’s over, I might consider him as a husband, but not until then.”
Libby smiled. “If I didn’t already like you so much, I would cherish you for that comment alone.”
At learning of Libby’s heightened regard, Penny beamed with pride. If she could have picked an older sister for herself, she’d have picked Libby Carstairs. Who wouldn’t want such a flamboyant, stunning female for a sibling?
“What is the other thing?” she asked. “You said there were two topics. And be extremely blunt, for whatever it is, if you don’t inform me, no one else will.”
Libby snorted at that. “I fear this one will generate intense gossip—for it’s very shocking. If you don’t choose to accept my account, I’ll understand, but I hope you’ll at least contemplate the ramifications. No matter what you think, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t call me a liar. I’ve been through enough of that today.”
“Who has been calling you a liar?”
“Mostly your father and Lord Barrett.”
Penny scoffed. “I’ve stated my opinion about them. If they’ve deemed you a liar, then I’m positive I shall view you as the most honest person in the kingdom.”
“After I reveal my secret, you might not be so convinced of my veracity.”
“Try me. Let’s see what reaction you get.”
Without hesitating, without debate, Libby announced, “I am your lost half-sister, Little Henrietta. I’m not dead, and I’m not missing. I’m right here.”
Penny studied Libby’s features, then said, “It only makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, look at us! We could practically be twins. It definitely explains the bond we’ve shared from the very start. Have you told Father?”
“Yes, but he didn’t believe me. Neither did Lord Barrett.”
“Ooh, they are such idiots!”
“Your Aunt Millicent was quite incensed too.”
“Then I add her to my list of despicable people.”
“They presume I devised the story in order to extort money from your father.”
“Have I mentioned that they’re idiots?” Penny said.
“I’m not surprised by their rancor or skepticism, but it’s why I have to depart. I can’t tarry when my presence is so divisive.”
“This is my home too!” Penny huffed. “I refuse to let them chase you away.”
“Penny . . .” Libby sighed. “You’re not thinking clearly about this. Imagine how your father feels. Imagine the drama this will stir. I need to absent myself so everyone can come to terms with the news.”
“They might not ever come to terms with it. Your supposed death has shaped our lives. If we didn’t have you to mourn, what would we talk about?”
“My goodness, don’t ever repeat that. I’ve caused enough trouble, and I simply have to leave. I’m incredibly enraged over how I’ve been treated.”
“I don’t blame you, but won’t you delay so I can speak to Father? I’m certain I can smooth things over with him. With Lord Barrett too. I’ll persuade them to apologize.”
“I don’t want them to apologize,” Libby said.
“The afternoon is waning. You can’t traipse off when evening is approaching. That would be very reckless.”
“I can’t bear to dawdle, but this doesn’t have to be farewell for you and me. You can visit me in London. You’d always be welcome.”
“I’d like that! I will visit, and I don’t care how much Father complains about it.”
Libby stood and motioned to her satchel. “Why don’t you let me finish packing? It’s painful for me to linger.”
“All right. I’ll cease my nagging, but I won’t cease being offended about this.”
“It’s nice to know I have one friend in the world, and she’s on my side.”
“I’ll always be your staunchest ally! Don’t allow Father or Lord Barrett to drag you down. They’re not worth it.”
“I’m sure they’re not.”
Astonishing them both, Penny stepped in and gave Libby a tight hug. She doubted Libby had had many hugs in her life. Nor had Penny.
“I’m glad we’re sisters,” Penny whispered in Libby’s ear.
“So am I.”
“I will travel to town to visit you the minute this party is over. Would next week be too soon?”
“No, it wouldn’t be too soon.”
“I won’t say goodbye then, not when we’ll be together again shortly.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Penny smiled with satisfaction, then she hurried out, determined to find her father and inform him just what an obtuse ass he’d become. How could he be so blind about Libby? Penny would set him straight, and she wouldn’t listen to any nonsense to the contrary.
Fish sat in Charles’s bedroom. She was sipping a whiskey, waiting for him, and curious about what would happen when he arrived. He’d invited her to tarry, and she liked loafing. It furnished her with a chance to snoop through his belongings.
Though it was foolish to daydream, she was anxious for Charles to fall in love with her again. It was dangerous fantasizing that would only lead to heartache in the end, but she couldn’t stop herself. Why not wish for the best for a change? What if the best actually occurred for once?
Unfortunately, her brash decision to dawdle had landed her in a precarious spot. His shrewish sister-in-law, Millicent, had stumbled on Fish precisely where she shouldn’t have been. She’d glared at Fish as if she were a thief, then she’d run off, probably to locate Charles and demand to know why Fish was in his private suite.
Fish would like to have been a mouse in the corner during that conversation. She’d warned Charles that Millicent viewed herself as his wife, but he wouldn’t admit she had any designs on him. How had he explained Fish’s presence? He likely wouldn’t have explained it, which would put Millicent in a permanent snit.
If she was enraged, then the house would be pitched into an uproar, so Fish’s sojourn might be about to conclude. The realization was incredibly depressing, but she wasn’t stupid. If her relationship with Charles started to cause problems, he’d ask Fish to leave. She yearned to hope he wouldn’t behave that way, but she wasn’t exactly a female he would fight to keep by his side, despite how they were carrying on.
Finally, she heard him coming. He closed the door and called, “Fish, are you here?”
“Yes, Charles, I’m in the bedroom.” He marched across the floor, his strides slow and measured, as if he was exhausted, and she seized the initiative. “Millicent caught me, and she was livid. Did she find you?”
“Yes, she found me.”
“I’m betting it wasn’t pleasant.”
“As always, Fish, you are a master of understatement.”
He walked over and sat in a chair next to her. There was a small table between them, a liquor tray with a decanter and a glass on it.
“Will you have a drink with me?” she asked.
He nodded, and she poured it for him and handed it over. They sipped in silence, and they were so compatible they might have been an old married couple. She could have lazed there with him forever and died a happy woman.
After a bit, he sighed and murmured, “What an awful day.”
“You look absolutely devastated. Dare I inquire about your chat with Millicent? I’m sorry she bumped into me. If I’d had any idea she would barge in, I’d have crawled into the wardrobe and hid until she departed.”
He smirked. “She’s worried we might be having an affair.”
“Did you confirm the worst? Or did you deny it?”
She tried to appear as if she was teasing, but if he’d claimed they weren’t involved, she’d be very hurt. She wasn’t an innocent maiden who had a reputation to preserve, and she didn’t care about Millicent Pendleton. But she cared about Charles and his opinion. If he couldn’t confess his mischief with Fish, what would that indicate about how he viewed their amour?
“I neither confirmed nor denied it,” he said, “so she was left wondering.”
“Considering I was in your bedroom, I doubt she’s wondering very hard.”
“I don’t like to upset her.”
“You don’t like to upset anyone.”
“I won’t stir discord for any reason.”
“That’s because you stirred plenty of it when you were young.”
“Yes, and I didn’t like how it thrust my life into the public eye.”
“You could have admitted we were dallying,” she said. “I wouldn’t have minded. I’m barely acquainted with your sister-in-law, and after the party ends, I’ll never see her again. If she believes I’m a slattern, it wouldn’t bother me.”
She shifted in the chair so she could watch him and judge how he assessed the remark. She’d given him several openings where he could have insisted she was staying on after the party, but he didn’t latch onto any of her overtures.
Instead, he frowned and said, “Millicent told me the most disturbing story, and I have to ask you about it.”
“I should be able to drum up an answer for you.”
“How long have you known Libby?”
“Eight years maybe? Or nine? Her Uncle Harry hired me to dress her after she turned sixteen. Why?”
“A housemaid was eavesdropping on her and Mr. Falcon. She tattled to Millicent.”
“About what? From your expression, it must have been terrible, but I can’t imagine Libby speaking offensively about you. She likes you very much.”
“They were talking about Little Henrietta. Evidently, Libby is preparing to announce that she’s my lost daughter.”
“Oh.”
Fish was very self-centered, and in all of her musings about Millicent and Charles, she’d conveniently neglected to ponder Libby and her wild tale about her paternity. It had been too fantastical, and Fish had resolved to focus on it later, once they were in London and she could read the letters.
Charles studied her strangely, then asked, “Had Libby mentioned it to you?”
“Yes, she mentioned it.”
“How long ago?”
“Just this afternoon. I was with her when you sent a maid to fetch her downstairs. She informed me right before she went to meet with you.”
“Prior to that, you had no idea?” He looked extremely skeptical.
“No.”
“According to the maid who overheard them, it’s a scheme she and Mr. Falcon cooked up to extort money from me. They’re hoping I’ll accept that she’s Henrietta or perhaps that I’ll tender a bribe so they’ll go away.” He sipped his drink, scrutinizing her over the rim of his glass. “You’re intimately acquainted with both of them. Which scenario would you deem to be more likely?”
Fish huffed with aggravation. “Libby wouldn’t trick you like that. She doesn’t have a dishonest bone in her body.”
“What about Mr. Falcon? Would he trick me?”
Fish wasn’t keen to wade into those murky waters. Simon possessed all of Harry’s dubious traits and then some. He might engage in any wicked plot.
“After Harry died,” she said, “Libby found a box of letters he’d stashed away. That’s all I can tell you about it. I haven’t seen them.”
“If the housemaid hadn’t accidently stumbled on their discussion, I wouldn’t have been apprised in advance. When Libby came forward, I’d have been blindsided.”
“You weren’t though.”
She didn’t like how he was evaluating her, as if he was checking for details that might catch her in a lie. He’d already judged Libby and Simon to be guilty, and suddenly, she felt as if she was skating on very thin ice.
“Would you ever have told me about this?” he asked. “Or are you so loyal to Libby that you’d have kept it a secret? Would you have remained silent and let her shout her falsehoods to the world?”
“I wasn’t keeping anything from you! I’ve known about this a few minutes longer than you have. I thought it was very far-fetched, and I asked if I could read the letters once we return to London. She agreed that I could, and I had decided I would proceed from there—depending on what they say.”
“If she spreads her nonsense, have you the slightest clue of the inferno that will ignite?”
“I can imagine how explosive it would be.”
“I would hate it, and I don’t mean to insult you, Fish—”
“Then don’t.”
“—but I need you to look me in the eye and swear you weren’t part of this. When you showed up at Roland, I was so excited, but now, I’m wondering if it wasn’t terribly convenient for you to have arrived with Libby.”
She bristled. “What are you implying? I suggest you be very, very clear.”
“Was this a scheme they fomented prior to traveling here? Were they aware that you and I are old friends? Did they invite you along to help them ingratiate themselves?”
Her jaw dropped. “Of all the despicable, rude, vile—”
He held up his hands, warding off her fury. “I’m simply curious about what’s happening. Somehow, Libby has figured out the exact way to entice me into believing her. I would cut off my right arm to find Henrietta, but I won’t be manipulated like this.”
“I only just learned about it myself! You have more information about it than I do. How dare you accuse me of bad conduct!”
“I’ve asked her to vacate the premises.”
“Oh, Charles. You didn’t.”
“She’s involved in a torrid affair with Lord Barrett, and it’s distracting him from proposing to Penny. I thought it would be best if she departed.”
“You’ve seen how he gazes at her,” Fish said, “so if you think you can tamp down his fascination by sending her back to town, you’re mad. He’s wild for her, and I doubt you can persuade him to leave her alone.”
“You’d watched their amour unfold, yet you brought her here anyway.”
“I didn’t know the enamored scoundrel would be at Roland! Libby didn’t either. We were attempting to hide from him, but when we rolled in, he was standing in your driveway. Don’t blame me because he’s a rutting dog who can’t control himself.”
“You have to speak to Libby for me.”
“About what?”
“You must dissuade her so she doesn’t circulate these bizarre tales about being Henrietta. It would stir a scandal that would never die down, and she has to promise she’ll never mention it to anyone. She has to realize that
there would be dire consequences for disseminating baseless rumors.”
“Are you threatening her?”
“No.” He scoffed as if the notion was absurd.
“It definitely sounds to me as if you’re threatening her. What if I read the letters and they seem genuine? Have you considered that for a single second?”
“Letters can be forged.”
“And some letters might not be. What if she’s your daughter? Aren’t you concerned about that possibility? What if you spurn her now, only to discover in the future that she was telling the truth? How will you ever convince her to forgive you?”
“Henrietta is dead,” he callously stated. “She’s been dead for two decades, and I won’t have Libby Carstairs and Simon Falcon dredging up this painful issue.” He paused, then added with a grim finality, “I won’t tolerate it.”
“Fine. I’ll talk to her for you.”
Fish wasn’t serious precisely, and in any dispute, she’d side with Libby. Harry had certainly been wily enough to perpetrate such a fraud, but he could never have coerced Libby into being the bait. And if he was planning to run a swindle, why hadn’t he begun much earlier? Why wait until Libby was grown?
Charles had offered a huge reward for Henrietta’s safe return, so Harry would have profited financially if he’d handed her over, and it wasn’t like him to ignore his worst impulses. Could the reality be that a very deranged Amanda Pendleton had glommed onto his brother Kit, then Kit had perished at sea, while trying to rescue her from Charles?
Afterward, had Harry wound up with Libby dumped in his lap, but not sure of what to do about it?
Might he have debated and pondered, but as the months—then years—went by, perhaps he’d lost the chance to come forward? Or had he actually suffered a fatherly affection for Libby? They’d been very close. Had she gradually become the daughter he’d never had?
With Harry deceased and unable to explain, who could guess how his devious mind had worked? Should Fish theorize over any of that? Probably not. In light of Charles’s angry mood, she wasn’t about to expound on cunning, deceitful Harry Carstairs.
