A Tarnished Heart

by Leslie Dicken

  Markham returned to his paper, reading the latest article on the Crystal Palace. He turned the page.

  Next to him, Lucas turned the page in his book.

  Markham scanned the headlines then turned to another page.

  Lucas turned the page in his book.

  Markham raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat.

  Without a minute’s passing, his son cleared his throat.

  A smile tickled on Markham’s lips. His son was imitating him. Surely it was only a nursery game. It was not that Lucas sought to mimic his father in attempt to be like him.

  What if it was? What if his son was emulating him at this young age? It would be up to Markham to show him how a peer acted in society, how he deserved the title and respect that came with it. More importantly, it was up to him to demonstrate what type of man to become.

  The trouble was that Markham didn’t know what kind of man he was. Who was he? What manner of man sat beside this boy? Was he worthy of imitation?

  Markham felt his throat tighten, but forced it open with a swallow. He would find a way to speak with his son, find a way to make his son proud.

  He set down his paper. Lucas set down his book.

  Reaching inside his waistcoat pocket, Markham pulled out his father’s signet ring. The jeweler had polished it while in the shop and now the tarnish was gone. Still, the taint of its legacy lingered.

  “Here.” He held it out to Lucas.

  The boy looked up at him with a wide gaze. “What-what is it?” One of Lucas’s lower teeth was missing, giving him a barely audible hiss at the end of his words.

  “This is your grandfather’s ring. And his grandfather before him.”

  A small finger shot forward and gingerly touched the circle of gold, almost in reverence. The warm fingers also brushed Markham’s palm, sending a twinge racing up his arm where it burrowed into his heart.

  “How old is it?” Lucas continued to stroke the ring.

  Markham swallowed. “I…I am not sure exactly.”

  Large eyes lifted to his. “Over a hundred years?”

  “Yes, certainly.”

  “Oh, how very old.”

  Lucas leaned forward, inspecting the jewelry with a closer eye. The scent of fresh soap tickled Markham’s nose. A peculiar sensation sped across his skin. A need to touch, to feel, to hold. His fingers itched to place his palm atop his son’s black hair, or to enfold the boy in an embrace.

  “Can I hold it?”

  The question broke Markham from his reverie.

  His first impulse was to decline the child’s request, as he might drop it and lose it on the swaying train.

  What kind of a man was he? Instead, he nodded.

  Lucas carefully lifted the ring and squeezed it within his small fist. “It is heavy, but very beautiful.”

  Yes, it was beautiful. Gold like the freckles spanning Lizzie’s skin. Red like the vibrant ruby color of her hair. It gleamed with the brightness of Lucas’s smile and sparkled like the joy in his eyes. Before this moment, his father’s ring was a reminder of the burdens Markham was forced to bear. But now he saw it as it truly was.

  Lucas slid the band of gold on one finger, took it off, and slid it over two fingers down to the middle knuckles. Then he held it to the window, watching the bouncing sunlight flicker off the brilliant stone.

  Unexpected hot tears stung Markham’s eyes. This was where the ring belonged. Though it was far too big for Lucas and he would need years to grow into it, it belonged to the future tenth Earl of Markham.

  Markham would do whatever it took to make sure his son would one day wear that ring. He would go to any length, subject himself to any demand, but he would not deny Lucas the right to his heritage.

  Markham would make Lizzie his bride.

  Chapter Nineteen

  She was still amazed.

  Even two days later, Lizzie still couldn’t believe the boy scampering before her was Markham’s son. Not that the child didn’t look like his father, with raven hair and obsidian eyes, or act like his father, quiet and often thoughtful. Though Lucas had little to say, his enthusiasm and brilliance always shone through.

  No, what amazed Lizzie was that Markham went to Blackhawk Manor and brought Lucas back to London. She had been after him for weeks to see the boy, but Markham would not hear of it. Now, here he was with them at the Crystal Palace.

  A case of shimmering jewels and exotic fabrics beckoned to Lucas and he wandered over. His nanny, a young girl who looked barely out of the nursery herself, followed behind.

  “Can I see?”

  Lizzie glanced down at the voice by her side. Albert blinked up at her, his smile hopeful. He had not the fine combed hair of Lucas, or the short breeches and stiff collar, and yet he was very much a curious little boy.

  “Certainly,” she answered, “but remember not to touch.”

  She watched Albert, who though at least two years older than Lucas, was not much taller, stand at the far end of the case. His eyes widened at the glittering stones underneath the glass, but he seemed far more interested in the boy near him.

  Lucas glanced over, smiled, then pointed to a long string of beads. The nanny nodded at his question.

  But the real question was, where was Markham?

  He’d wandered off on his own, finding them now and again like a creek that split in two and rejoined only at certain points along the fields. Why had he brought his son along only to leave him with the nanny? It couldn’t be Albert that gave him pause, could it?

  She shook her head and joined the others. Vibrant necklaces of glittering gems beckoned to her, begging her to reach inside and feel their smooth surfaces. A hint of a spicy scent filled her nostrils. Oh, blast it, it smelled just like Markham. She lifted her head to see if he’d returned to either her side but he was nowhere in sight. So she had been right. His scent did come from India.

  “Mother’s feet needed a rest.”

  Lizzie turned to see Lord Alcott grinning at her, his blue eyes always twinkling. “So you found her a bench?”

  “Yes, in the main transept. We are headed in that direction anyway.”

  Lizzie didn’t mind that the dowager was not there to chaperone them. It was obvious the woman did not care for the responsibility.

  They all moved on to the next booth, where fragile vases made of intricate patterns were on display.

  “What does it say?” Albert asked, pointing to the red swag overhead.

  “China Court,” she read, exhilaration bubbling under her skin. These wonders fascinated her, called to her, made her crave to explore and discover more. After all this, how could she ever be satisfied with life in sleepy little Abingdon again?

  Now she even forgot about her father on occasion, stopped thinking of Rachel and her innocent joy. What did she know of herself now? Who had she become?

  Lizzie blinked back tears and turned away so Lord Alcott wouldn’t see. She secretly enjoyed dancing at parties, she liked to see herself dressed in finery on occasion, she welcomed someone else preparing her meals. Blast it, she’d fallen for an arrogant man of the aristocracy.

  This trip to the Crystal Palace brought it all in sharp relief. But now what was she to do? Markham had yet to prove to her that he wanted anything more than stolen kisses.

  But if she couldn’t go forward with him and she couldn’t go back to Edmund—then where could she go?

  “Look at this.”

  Lizzie smiled down at Albert’s shining eyes. He held up a small figure in the palm of his hand as if it were a treasure.

  “Where did you find that?” Lord, she hoped he hadn’t taken it from a display. Already they had received enough disdainful looks at his presence here today.

  Albert pointed behind. “’E gave ter me, ’e did.”

  Lucas smiled, the dark gap of his missing tooth made Lizzie’s heart flutter. When Rachel had lost her first tooth, she tucked it in the hem of her dress to keep it with her always.

  “It’s an elep
hant,” her charge explained, smoothing his fingers over the wooden surface. “Ain’t it grand?”

  “Lucas!”

  They all stiffened at the sound of Markham’s voice.

  Lizzie felt the hair on her neck rise at his sharp command. Wide dark eyes blinked as his father approached. Rather than frightened, Lucas seemed in awe.

  “Did you give that toy to Albert?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Why?”

  Albert grabbed Lizzie’s hand. His now pale face spoke of his worry.

  Lucas traced circles over the base of a stone statue. “Because he liked it so. He had never seen such a toy before.”

  Markham noticed them all watching him. He hesitated a moment then put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Very well, then. You have given it as a gift. Do not ask for its return.”

  Then, like many times before, he walked off. Lizzie watched his broad shoulders maneuver easily through the crowd until he was finally out of sight. Relief and confusion mingled in her breast. She never could predict his actions.

  Albert released her hand and followed Lucas and the nanny to an area titled Main Avenue. All around were noises of the crowd, large machines on display and tall water fountains. On each side of the hall, flags of the many countries lined the avenue and another floor of exhibits promised intrigue and surprise above them. Steel girders criss-crossed the ceiling, with the windows at the top allowing daylight to penetrate within. All in all, the building was a testimony to progress itself.

  Lizzie loved it. She loved every single aspect of it. The enormity of the structure, the exhibits from foreign countries, the displays of machinery and raw materials. The tiny taste had only sharpened her appetite for further exploration. How could she travel, see the world, if she were bound by Edmund’s embrace?

  Tears threatened again. Day after day, her dreams shifted and transformed. Where did she want to live? Who did she love? What was her future?

  Albert tugged on her arm and Lizzie swallowed the lump in her throat. She followed as he pulled and within moments, Lizzie saw what he desired—the start of a circus. Now they stood in the enormous center transept, where an area had been roped off for a performance, including a tight-rope walker above them.

  Still squeezing his hand tightly, Lizzie maneuvered to a spot where he could watch but Lord Alcott and his mother could catch up. Eventually Markham would have to find them on his own.

  Lord Alcott’s charming smile as he approached did not ease the anxiety in her chest. His wink only made it worse. He came up beside her and bent low to her ear, the noises surrounding them too great for normal conversation. The small hint of his scent did not stir her senses.

  “He has found my favorite. I knew you would enjoy this. I should have brought you that first day it opened.”

  Albert squirmed, but she held him fast. “No need to be concerned, the wonders have not lessened from that day.”

  “I love to watch you here, to see the excitement in your eyes.”

  Lizzie swallowed. “You mean the boys’ eyes, don’t you?”

  His fingertips brushed against her elbow. “No. I meant what I said. It is you I’ve been watching.”

  Her chest tightened but she could not respond.

  “At the start of the season, Miss Parker, I imagined you to be the worst sort of match for me. I thought you pious and proper, shy and timid. But you are none of those.”

  She managed a smile, but still could not look at him. Lizzie forced her gaze to remain on the circus performers. The crowd laughed at their antics and Albert bounced on his heels. He was growing restless. Lucas moved up next to him and whispered in his ear.

  Lord Alcott’s fingers moved in to circle around her elbow. “I intend to ask for you, Miss Parker. To make you my wife.”

  Lizzie found her hands clammy, her lungs would not function. She had done whatever she could not to find a husband in London, but now she realized that Abingdon alone could not satisfy her. What good reason did she have for denying him? She’d found the man of proper background and society that her father wanted for her. This man could take her to places she’d never dreamed of…

  “I-I don’t know what to say,” she finally uttered.

  “Tell me, though, as I must know, what do my brother’s kisses mean to you?”

  Those kisses took her to the farthest reaches of the universe. When she was in Markham’s arms, she could think of nothing else. Her heart would only belong to him.

  “It seems,” Lord Alcott said, “we have trouble approaching.”

  Lizzie snapped her attention to the crowd opposite them. Her gaze fell upon a beautiful girl with dark hair. Beside her stood a slightly older woman with a razor-sharp glare. Lady Harriet and Lady Fallston. Could the moment get any worse?

  Lady Fallston approached first, towering over Lizzie, her face twisted like a menacing mask they had seen in the China display. “Do you have a child we did not know of?”

  Lizzie pushed her shoulders back and straightened her spine. She had no reason to fear this woman.

  “This is Albert,” she replied, staring straight into those ice-blue eyes. “He is my pupil. And this other child is Lord Markham’s son.”

  “I know who he is,” Lady Fallston sniffed.

  The awkward silence that followed was soon interrupted by Albert’s squeals. A man attempted to cross the room above them on a rope of sorts.

  “Look, Miz Parker, ain’t it grand?”

  “Do you think he will fall?” Lucas asked in his quiet voice.

  “It is indeed amazing, children. Let’s watch and see what happens.”

  “Doesn’t that boy have work to do?”

  Lizzie forced her gaze onto Lady Fallston’s sneer. “I have brought him here as a special treat. He deserves to be witness to these treasures too.”

  “He’s more likely to steal these treasures, you mean.”

  Heat flushed up Lizzie’s cheeks, scorching the tips of her ears. That blasted woman. “You cannot assume that all poor children will take what isn’t theirs.”

  Lady Harriet stepped away and joined Lord Alcott in watching the tightrope walker. Apparently, Lizzie was on her own in this fight.

  Lady Fallston’s cold gaze locked onto her. “It seems that where you come from, Miss Parker, they trust too readily.”

  “No, where you come from they refuse to trust at all.” Oh God, is this really how she wanted to spend the rest of her life—with people like this? She could never get used to this view on the poor, this unyielding disbelief in the value of anything lower than a peer.

  Lady Fallston leaned forward, as if reaching for the kill. Lizzie shrank back out of instinct. She had never seen such hatred in a person’s eyes before. “Pay careful attention,” the woman’s voice trembled with controlled rage, “if you know what is best, you will get yourself out of London.”

  A round of “ohs” and “ahs” escalated and quieted around them as if the man above had nearly fallen. Lizzie’s stomach clenched and tumbled as if she were the one balancing on a thin rope. “Leave London, why?”

  “You are interfering in a place you don’t belong.”

  “What’s this?”

  They both looked up to see Markham’s concerned, handsome face. His bottomless eyes flicked to hers for a moment and a breath caught in her throat. She saw longing there and a touch of sadness. Then, as if she’d imagined it all, his gaze shut down to that familiar guarded look.

  Lady Fallston’s face brightened and she slid up close to him, but not too close to cause gossip. “I was just telling Miss Parker here that the boy she arrived here with was better left at home. Just look how he assumes friendship with your son.”

  Lizzie instantly knew what the witch’s plans were. She was forcing Markham to decide where his loyalties lay, whom he would most likely side with. Now, trapped between the two of them, he had little choice but to retreat or answer.

  Markham cleared his throat. “I have yet to see the boy cause any harm.�
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  “That may be so,” the marchioness continued, with a disdainful glance at Albert, “but if you recall, the reason ticket costs have been held so high these last few weeks is that they are attempting to keep the riff-raff from entering. And here Miss Parker brings one right in.”

  Lizzie squeezed Albert’s fingers, hoping he did not hear those prejudiced words. “How dare you call him that? He has every right to be here. He paid admission just like anyone else.”

  The woman merely blinked at her. “Yes, they have many an organization or charity for children such as this. But still, there is no reason to have him here tarnishing our visit.”

  Lizzie let go of Albert’s yanking hand, and dropped her voice. “Whether rich or poor, each person deserves a chance to see beauty, experience wonder, hear music, taste delicacies. It is you who are spoiling my visit.”

  Lady Fallston’s eyes widened at the outburst and she turned to Markham. “Are you going to allow your ward—this simple country girl—to speak to me that way?”

  He stood there, nearly breathless, an immovable object, like the many statues around them. If he felt anything on the inside, he wasn’t showing it on the outside. A vein throbbed on his head and his Adam’s apple bobbed with a deep swallow.

  “Well?” the nasty woman persisted. “Aren’t you going to rebuke her? You see the vile way she behaves. Bringing that filthy child here is just one of the many ways this girl obviously doesn’t belong. She is ruining your reputation, Lord Markham.”

  Lizzie started to defend herself against the hateful words, but stopped before a sound left her mouth. This was Markham’s chance. If he agreed with Lady Fallston, Lizzie would know for certain that she could never be anything more to him. Nor would she want to be. But if he spoke against the remarks, well, maybe…just maybe he really did care for her.

  “My lord. Miss Parker.” They all turned at the nanny’s urgent call. “The boys. They have wandered off.”

  Daggers of dread pierced Lizzie’s stomach. She’d let go of his hand and now the boys were gone. Albert was her responsibility. How could they ever find him in this enormous building and overwhelming crowd? Would the others—would Markham—blame their disappearance on Albert?