The Danice Allen Anthology

by Danice Allen

  Despite the strain it caused on such a shriveled bit of his morning-after brain, Douglas considered the facts Donovan had obligingly supplied him. He rubbed his chin. “Did Jasper say what the bloke looked like, besides that he was’na hard t’ look on?”

  “Aye, he did,” Donovan said, glad to be a further source of information and therefore being paid some rapt attention.

  “Tall and yellow-haired, wearin’ a wine-red coat, and with cat eyes. Dinna ’specially know what he meant by that, but there it is.”

  Douglas didn’t know either, but he had a strong suspicion that if he met Wickham face to face, he’d know exactly what Jasper meant by cat eyes. So, Wickham had somehow found out about the lass’s capture and got her out! An extraordinary accomplishment that filled Douglas with grudging respect… and jealous hatred.

  Wickham was everything Douglas wanted to be, everything Kate deserved in a man. Wickham was daunting competition, but Douglas wouldn’t cry craven and give up, because Kate belonged to him, and the child she carried was his. He would get her back if it killed him. But with the help of that little princess in the green mantle, Douglas was hoping he’d not have to resort to such drastic measures.

  The sky was a pristine, pellucid blue above the snow-powdered silver birch and larch that bordered Duddingston Loch. Bramble thickets encrusted with tiny starlike icicles crimped the shoreline. The tree branches were full of noisy rooks, cawing abuses at the encroaching humans gliding over the glassy surface of the loch, and building fires to toast their hands and roast buttered apple wedges and bits of ham for nuncheon.

  There were lots of children on the ice, too, some of them obviously poor, dressed in ragged clothes inadequate to ward off the penetrating cold and the icy wind from the firth. After watching a small group of them for a while, Gabrielle realized that they were taking turns with a single pair of skates, the others warming themselves by a fire while they waited and watched. She decided then and there that when she and Rory were done skating she’d leave her skates—just purchased that morning—with the group, thereby doubling their time on the ice.

  These children also reminded her of her resolve to make a visit to the Tuttles. Especially after learning that Will was losing his hearing, probably because of an untreated illness, she was doubly determined to do something to help the impoverished family. Besides that, Gabrielle wanted to thank Will for having done her a monumental service in alerting Mr. Blake to her incarceration in Mother Henn’s brothel.

  Now that she knew their general neighborhood, it shouldn’t be that difficult to locate the Tuttles’ home. The trouble was, their neighborhood was the same as Mother Henn’s, unless the horrid woman, out of fear of reprisal for her abduction of Gabrielle, had already moved on to another location.

  Gabrielle was still hoping she could get Zach to help her with the Tuttles, because she was afraid to go alone. So far today she hadn’t even had an opportunity to speak to Zach, however, and, fearing that Will’s hearing would be permanently damaged, she didn’t want to wait too long to give the Tuttles the money they’d need to consult a physician. She sighed. Somehow she must find a way to get to Old Town no later than tomorrow, with or without Zach’s help.

  A curlew swooped overhead, its mournful cry drawing Gabrielle’s attention. She looked up again at the blue sky and around at the snow-covered, iron-hard fields, crisscrossed with small dry stone dikes. Even in the harshness of winter, Scotland was breathtaking to behold. Whenever confronted with natural beauty of such magnitude, Gabrielle’s heart stirred with appreciation. But her heart ached a little, too. She wanted to share her delight with Zach.

  “Here, Gabrielle, sit down and I’ll strap on your skates for you.” While Gabrielle had been standing amongst the small rocks and scree scattered at the shore of the loch, Rory had dusted the snow off a tree stump and placed a thick piece of huckaback on it for her to sit on so she’d be well protected from the damp. The stump was very close to where the carriage stood, and Gabrielle could see that Aunt Clarissa had not as yet alighted.

  She walked back, calling, “Aunt Clarissa, aren’t you getting out?”

  Aunt Clarissa tried to make herself heard through the glass, but when it became apparent that Gabrielle wasn’t catching a word, she opened the door. “I’m staying inside till the servants light a fire. I’ve a warm brick ’neath my feet and am quite cozy and warm.” She smiled and closed the window, pulling the carriage blankets up to her chin. Gabrielle did not doubt that her aunt would be asleep within minutes. She walked over to the stump, her sturdy Wellingtons crunching in the snow.

  “Well, so much for your chaperon,” said Rory with a chuckle, extending a hand to help Gabrielle to her seat.

  “Perhaps she doesn’t imagine that you’ll try to compromise me on the ice.”

  “Then she doesn’t have much imagination,” Rory retorted with a gleam in his eye. “And she must not have noticed how fetching you look today, lass.”

  Gabrielle smiled faintly at Rory’s compliment and uttered a polite “thank you.” She was grateful to Rory for trying, but she didn’t think flummery was going to lift her spirits today. She’d hoped that by dressing in the mantle her mother had sent her for Christmas she’d somehow feel special and less depressed. But even the lively peacock blues, jade greens, and wine reds of her “Ali Baba” mantle, and the smart ostrich plume in her bonnet—dyed all three colors to match her mantle—could make up for Zach’s absence. And if she wasn’t mistaken, she believed that Rory’s spirits were lagging a little, too.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t look quite smashing, because he did. She’d no doubt he’d attract his usual share of attention once they were seen on the ice. His redingote was a deep brown with sleeved capes trimmed with black astrakhan, which, as he’d explained to her, was a blend of Persian lamb’s wool. He wore a black velvet cravat, a Neapolitan top hat, and black kid gloves. For once he’d compromised his preference for kilts by wearing a pair of practical, though fashionable, checked trousers.

  “You’re quite fetching yourself today, Rory,” she told him.

  He had kneeled on one knee to strap on her skates, another square of huckaback folded several times and used to shield his trousers from the snow. Having secured one skate, he looked up from his task and smiled at her, his fingers still wrapped most unnecessarily around her ankle. “I say we forget all about Zach, and you and I get married, Gabrielle. We make a handsome pair.”

  She dimpled, squirming her ankle out of Rory’s grip. “You’re an incorrigible flirt, Rory Cameron!”

  Suddenly he sobered and concentrated on her other skate. “Once I’m married, Gabrielle, I don’t intend to keep up the flirting, you know.”

  Gabrielle looked down at his crisp brown curls, laughing uncertainly. “My, you’re being very serious!”

  “Yes.”

  Gabrielle grew serious, too. “You do seem much more receptive to the idea of marriage lately, Rory. Why do you suppose—?”

  Her skates strapped on, he looked up, his eyes as blue as the sky, sincerity shining through like rays of sunshine. “I can’t say for sure. I can only suppose it’s because of you.”

  Flustered, Gabrielle stood up. “Well, I’m not so sure of that. We ought to forget about marriage today, however, and think of nothing else but the beauty of this afternoon and the jolly fun we’re going to have skating!” This was all said with a great deal of enthusiasm, and then her ankles buckled, her knees bent, and she fell hard on her bottom.

  “Blether, Gabrielle,” shouted Rory, laughing. “Can’t you even wait till you’re on the ice?”

  Zach watched from his carriage window. When he had spied Gabby and Rory by the shore, Zach had signaled to Malcolm to interrupt their leisurely perambulations around the loch and stop the carriage just across the way, hidden partially from view by a clump of high rhododendron bushes. From this inconspicuous position he could observe Gabby and Rory while they weren’t aware they were being observed. Perhaps by doing so, he could make a v
alid judgment about their relationship.

  Gabby had confused him considerably on that score. All along, Zach thought he was only interested in Gabby’s happiness. But now he didn’t know what he wanted for her.

  The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted her for himself, and if he were a truly good man, he’d squelch that idea under his boot like an obnoxious little bug.

  “Why are we stopping, Wickham?”

  A comfortable silence had settled between Kate and Zach during the course of their drive, and she’d almost dozed. Now she was wide awake. He turned and gave her a quick smile. “I thought you might enjoy just sitting here for a few moments, taking in the view.”

  He immediately returned his gaze to the spot where Rory and Gabby were, just in time to see her fall on her bottom. He gave a little snort of amusement.

  Kate stirred in her seat, sticking her face close to the glass. “What are ye snortin’ ’bout, Wickham?”

  “Nothing, really. Someone just fell down, that’s all.”

  Kate settled back in her seat. “Well, that’s kind of mean of ye, dinna ye think?”

  “No harm was done.” Gabby and Rory were on the ice now. He had one of his large paws wrapped around her small waist. She was quite wobbly. They were both laughing very hard.

  “Now ye’re frownin’, Wickham. I’m beginnin’ to suspicion that it’s not trees and water and hills ye’re lookin’ at, but somethin’ female.” Kate leaned forward, rearranging her stomach as best she could, and looked where Zach was looking. “’Tis that blond lass there, ain’t it—the one in the mantle like Joseph’s coat from the Bible? Ye ken what I mean, the ’coat of many colors’? Do ye know ’er, Wickham? She’s a bonny lass, and he’s a braw lad, too. Are ye jealous, Wickham?”

  Zach hardly knew which question to avoid first. Kate had progressed from one assumption to another with mind-boggling rapidity. And she was right about them all. But all he had to do to put her off was say, “I don’t know which blond girl you mean,” then rap on the ceiling with his cane, and they’d be off. But instead he turned to Kate and opened his mouth, but nothing came out at all.

  He didn’t know how he looked to her. Probably like an idiot. But he knew how he felt. He loved Gabby so damn much, and it killed him to see her enjoying herself with Rory when she hadn’t a clue she was being watched by him. Their pleasure was not an act. It was real.

  Kate’s face melted into soft lines of sympathy and understanding. “Oh, Wickham … ye love ’er, dinna ye?”

  Usually Zach hated sympathy. It made him feel vulnerable and foolish. But for some reason, sitting there so comfortably with Kate, he didn’t mind. Maybe he was just so tired of denying his feelings to himself and to everyone else, the idea of telling someone the truth for once was a compelling temptation. He sighed heavily. “Yes, God help me, I love her.”

  “Is she in love with that fellow she’s skatin’ with, then?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Kate shook her head, confused. “Then what’s the to-do? Ye’re a braw fellow, too, Wickham, if’n ye dinna mind me sayin’ so. Make her love ye back!”

  “She says she does already.”

  Kate gave a hiss of exasperation. “I dinna understand you Quality types. If’n ye love her and she loves you, why dinna ye jest get married?”

  Zach continued to watch Gabby, not just because he was mesmerized by the rainbow-cloaked nymph on skates, but because he was about to make what he considered an emasculating confession. “It’s not so simple as that, Kate. I’m … afraid.”

  To his relief, Kate’s voice remained perfectiy normal, her approach characteristically straightforward. “Of what are ye afraid, pray tell? She dinna look dangerous t’ me!”

  This made Zach laugh. Turning to Kate, he exclaimed, “You don’t know Gabby! She’s dangerous, all right!” Then his smile faded “The truth is, I’m afraid I’ll hurt her.”

  There was a pause, then in a small voice, she said, “Ye dinna mean like Douglas hurts me?”

  Zach turned and took her hand, chafing it between his two. “No, not in that way. I’d love to get my hands on the little minx, but not to—” He turned back to the window, still holding Kate’s hand. “I can’t even explain my fear, Kate. I think I know where it comes from, though.” Zach considered the appropriateness of telling Kate everything that was burdening his heart, then decided with a sudden surge of impetuousness to quit weighing his words and simply speak the truth. “You see, there was a woman in my life many years ago when Gabby was just a little girl—”

  “The blond lass—her name is Gabby?”

  “Yes. Gabrielle’s her given name, but I call her Gabby. I was engaged to her sister, but I also had a mistress named Tess. I thought I was in love with Gabby’s sister, but in reality I was in love with Tess. It’s a very complicated thing to explain, and I don’t want to bore you—”

  Kate squeezed Zach’s hand. “Please, Wickham, bore me!”

  Zach smiled gratefully. Now that he’d begun, he didn’t want to stop. “You see, my brother Alex and I had been separated for many years—seventeen, to be exact. My father had sent me away to live with my maternal grandfather when I was just five and Alex was thirteen.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he hated me. My mother died giving me life, and he never forgave me for that.” Zach felt the bitter bile burning his throat. “Father never minced words. Even at the age of five, I knew exactly what a horrendous thing I’d done.”

  “Wickham, you couldn’t help it if your mother died!”

  “I know that. But while I could believe that with my head, I could never reconcile the situation in my heart. I always felt desperately guilty.”

  Kate shook her head, saying nothing.

  “Finally he couldn’t stand the sight of me any longer and trundled me off to Cornwall, stipulating to my grandfather that if he wanted to raise me, he must intercept any correspondence between me and Alex. Grandfather kept honorably to this agreement, and Alex and I both believed the other responsible for our estrangement. At Grandfather’s funeral, we were reunited and the misunderstanding cleared up.” Zach smiled, remembering. “It was wonderful having my brother back. We became fast friends. But then things got more complicated.”

  “How so, Wickham?”

  “My betrothed, Beth, Gabby’s older sister by some eleven years, fell in love with my brother and she with him.”

  “Oh, dear. That must have hurt very much.”

  Zach smiled bitterly. “Not in the way you might suppose, Kate. In truth, I wasn’t in love with Beth. I cared for her like a sister. It was my mistress, Tessy, that I was truly in love with. But I was too blinded by the rules of society to admit or accept my love for her. When I was nearly killed in a tin-mine collapse, and in my darkest hours my thoughts had been for Tess, I knew I’d gone beyond the bounds of acceptability. I knew that if I continued to see her, I’d marry her. And I was too prideful to do that. I severed my relationship with Tess and at the same time learned she was pregnant with my child.”

  “Lor’, Wickham!”

  “I left her anyway, told her I would support the child. When I returned to my estate, Pencarrow, I found Beth and Alex in his bedchamber. They’d just made love. I wanted to kill him, Kate. And all over stupid pride for Beth’s cuckolding me, and anger at Tess for nearly duping me, as I saw it, into marriage. My brother and I have made up, of course. We’re closer than ever, and Beth’s like a dear sister to me. Their children are like … my own.”

  Lost in the painful memories, Zach was almost startled when Kate spoke again. “What happened to Tess and the baby?”

  “The selfsame day I severed my ties with Tessy, she bore the babe. It was two and a half months early. Something went wrong. Tess died.”

  Kate drew a sharp breath. “Oh, Wickham, I’m so sorry. But what about the babe?”

  Zach had told Gabby that he hated lying. He did hate it, but in the case of Tessy’s daughter—his daughter—he’d alread
y lied to half of England. And he would continue to do so till he’d breathed his last rattled gulp of air, and without feeling the least smidgen of guilt. He’d do anything to protect Tessy’s child from becoming the sort of social outcast her mother had been due to her inadequate bloodlines. Alex and Beth were raising his child, Torie, as their own, as their firstborn. But he told Kate the usual lie. “The baby died and was buried with Tess.”

  Silence once again settled between them. But it wasn’t a cozy, comfortable silence. It was a quiet reverence for the shadows of things past and unchangeable, a time for regrets. Zach knew Kate had her own share of problems and regrets, and he suddenly felt guilty for burdening her with his. He took one last lingering look at Gabby, who was now capably sailing over the ice like a graceful, exotic bird with multicolored feathers, then tapped his cane against the ceiling. The carriage immediately jerked into motion.

  “Wickham,” said Kate, leaning back now into her side of the carriage, “I hope I can say somethin’ to ye and ye will’na take it amiss.”

  Zach gave Kate a tender, teasing smile. “I’ve trusted you with things I’ve not told anyone these eleven years and more. I think I can stand a little advice, if that’s what you’re hinting at, Kate. You’ve borne with me putting my oar in where it’s not wanted—forcing you to talk about Douglas. I’ll forgive you for doing the same.”

  “It was good fer me to talk ’bout Douglas, and I think it’s been good fer you, Wickham, to speak to me about yer fears. Only I think it’d be better if’n ye’d told Gabby ’stead of me.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Yes, I know ye’re afraid. I ken what ye’re sayin’!” Kate poked her forehead with her finger. “In yer head ye know ye dinna kill yer mum or Tess—though to Tess ye may have been a bit hard.” She spread her hand, palm down, on her chest. Her voice gentled and lowered. “But in yer heart, ye’ve always blamed yerself, and ye’re afraid ye’re goin’ t’ hurt Gabby, too, in some roundabout way that dinna make a jot o’ sense.”