by Hannah West
The little girl stood behind her brother’s and peeked out at Malia while the boys puffed out their chest.
“What do you want,” the oldest said with a rater old accent.
“Either give us some scratch or leave, missy,” chimed in the other.
“Why are you out here in the street?” she asked next.
The boys didn’t answer but the little girl peeked out and said softly, “Mama is sick. We needs the money to get a doctor.”
“Shut it, Lily, you don’t talk to her,” snapped the oldest.
Malia’s heart broke a little inside. She had felt the same way to get her sister better. She felt the need to help these children as well.
“What if I got a doctor to come see your mama?” she asked them.
The younger two’s eyes went wide but the older scoffed, “You? You look as if you have nearly as much as we do.”
Malia smiled, she liked his spirit, and he reminded her of Luna.
She held a finger to her lips and took her hand out of her pocket to show them the handful of coins, but she put them back in before the boy could snatch them away.
“Let’s go find a doctor and then see your mama. I can cook her a meal, which should help as well.”
“We have no food,” admitted the young boy with a blush.
“Then while the doctor is looking over your mother, we can go shopping for some food.” She held out a hand to the children, waiting for one of them to take it, but none did. They just stared at her hand.
“Well are you coming?” she asked.
The little girl stepped forward and put her dirt covered little one in Malia’s.
Her wide brown eyes begged Malia for something. “Will you truly help Ma?”
Malia’s heart squeezed painfully. She get the girl’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Yes, to the best of my abilities.”
~
Warm had gripped Malia’s heart after the doctor came, finding out the children’s mother would get better with time and simple medicine.
The mother had hugged her children crying and had thanked Malia until she could not breath from crying. Feeling as if she was intruding she went to cook them a meal.
She hummed a gypsy tone as she cooked over the fire in the small room that had been sectioned off to serve as the kitchen. This placed that the small family called home should have been burned to the ground; it was so unfit to live it.
The windows had not glass, only wood shutters that had seen better days; there was no lock on the piece of wood called a door and the plaster peeled from the walls. Malia would not be surprised if the roof, as patched as it was, leaked when it rained. Her tent was better protection this this hell hole.
Mayhap she could find them better housing and give their mother a job in the household or even one of her father’s other estates.
Nodding she decided, yes, she would do just that. She would have someone fetch them and give them a place when Helen felt better.
When the food was done cooking she loaded it onto a tray and brought it into the living room that doubled as the bedroom.
Four sets of eyes went wide when they saw everything that was lined up on the serving tray for them to eat. The tray was lined with serval hearty hunks of bread and cheese, smoked meats and a bowl of soup for Helen.
“We can never repay such kindness,” Helen whispered, tears filling her eyes again as her voice broke with emotion. Her wide soulful brown eyes met Malia’s, “Why help us? We are mere strangers to you. Are you an angel?”
She had helped because she knew what it was like to need help and have everyone who walked by look through you, like you were never there. Like you didn’t exist.
“Because I was you once,” Malia said thinking that was not too long ago, before distributing the food. Helen was too weak to eat on her own so she helped her sit up and eat.
After all had eaten their fill, like a starving nation, Helen had drifted of the sleep and Malia gave the two older boys a task.
Handing over the last of the coin she had to them, she gave them their tasks. “Watch over your Mama and sister, for me, will you? I will come back to check on you all soon. When your mother is better I will have a better place for you all to live, okay?”
They nodded, eyes sad to see her go now, and she ruffled their hair before leaving.
Time had gotten away from her and was later then she had planned on being back by. She was due home before she was caught out. But it had been worth every moment. Helen reminded Malia of her sister Luna and what her life could become without her plan.
She had not done much in truth, but it had been either to change the outcome of someone’s life.
Now if only hers was changed so easily. She had a ball to attend tonight where she would once again go through the polite motions of society and look over the potential matches for her future husband.
Chapter Seventeen
“And where might you have been this whole time,” asked a familiar voice as Malia came in through the door from the gardens.
Malia closed her eyes and fought the foul words that wanted to come out of her mouth.
Coming around to face her, Malia frowned at her young cousin. “What do you want?”
The pretty blonde ringlets of her young cousin Iris bounced as she walked over. Her light grey eyes watching Malia’s every move.
“Mother had me come over so we could go shopping together, but here I have been left alone in this great house all by myself for hours. Now it’s too late to go out. I must return home so Mother can come here to pick you up for tonight’s ball.”
Iris’s sharp eyes did not miss the maid outfit that she was wearing on her person.
“Up to something we should not be?” she queried.
“I was out saving a family if you must know,” Malia finally said before trying to go around Iris.
Iris grabbed her arm to stop her, brows wrinkled, “Help a family? Whatever could you have done for them?”
She may not be able to spill about her past, but there was no harm in telling her cousin what she had been up too. While nosy, she was good at keeping things to herself.
“I was out for a walk to clear my head and I came across some small hungry children. They were begging coin for their sick mama. So I found a doctor to treat their mother and I cooked them a meal before I came back. I don’t care if society does not agree with what I did, but I could not let her suffer.”
Just like I cannot let Luna suffer, she thought to herself.
Nodding serious Iris said, “We should do something else for them.”
The surprised Malia. “We?” she echoed.
“Yes,” her cousin said with a grin.
“Well,” Malia admitted, “I had planned on finding her a place amongst the staff. If not here then at one of Father’s other estates.”
“You don’t know,” Iris gasped as if this was the secret tragedy of the year “Your father was forced to sell off all properties that weren’t entitled to the title. He has no money Malia. The only money left is your dowry, which he can’t touch but you can.”
It felt as if the world beneath her feet had fallen out from under her. She had not known this and her father had not told her so.
But now it made sense what he had told her upon their reunion. That would have to marry and marry well. He needed the money as well and she was his way to obtaining it. He would sell her off on the marriage mart to reestablish his funds.
When would this world quit throwing her around? Everything had a hidden meaning, everyone wanted something, this was not how things should be!
Iris’s face turned worried. “Oh dear, I have upset you, haven’t I? I did not mean to but you would find out soon enough. While no many outside the family knows, everyone a part of it does.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Malia muttered. “It is good to know.”
Oh Malia would marry a very rich man but she would now have her secret revenge on her father. He had refused to help her mother when they needed mon
ey, so now that he needed it? He would not receive a penny.
She could watch him struggle as they had.
“I best return home and you best get dressed for tonight. Mother was abuzz about someone new coming tonight. They are expecting someone quite powerful to attend the crush tonight. Mother wants you to meet him. He came just came out of mourning for his father that passed away during the spring. He is the Earl of Lindsey. An Irish title with new trade money. He has old money as well, I guess, but he is famous for becoming a merchant in our circles.”
Iris shrugged, “Some hate him for dabbling in trade while others are just after his money. They say he is richer than the king. Maybe he will take a liking to you!”
Malia swatted at her to get her moving. “More like he is a middle-aged man with a thick beard. I prefer mine younger and goldenly handsome.”
Iris snorted. “You want a peacock, then.”
“No, I want someone who will let me be and see to my needs. A simple lord who would be pleased with a willful wife and accepting of her odder ways.”
“Then you shall have a French frop!” she laughed before bidding Malia a final farewell.
Malia’s good mood from earlier in the day faded again. Now she had to shoulder two problems.
And as she thought once more of marrying another she thought of her fair haired gentleman who had left her behind. Life it would seem was as cruel as her mama had told her.
Chapter Eighteen
He did not truly want to be here, but at the instance of his mother he had come. He knew his duty to the family line and the death of his father had put that into focus for him. He needed a wife and the only way an Earl could find one was by going to the events in which young ladies of good breeding and families swarmed like flies.
His lips tightened in to a line.
He did not want a pretty society miss, what he wanted had been his wild gypsy girl. He had missed the last meeting he had promised her due to the death of his father, but he had returned a month later to find her gone. He had even gone to the gypsy camp, but they all had told him the same thing.
“She is beyond us now,” they had said.
Only Luna, her little sister would tell him anything else. She had told him that her sister and gone away to make things better for them, but that she would not be coming back.
Devon had been crushed by the news. She had left without telling him anything and he was not sure if that had been her plan all along. He had looked for her in the coming months when the seasons changed from summer to fall, but he had not found a trace of her or where she had gone. She had disappeared into thin air, just beyond his reach.
He had planned on making her his wife, even against the wishes of his mother and family. He had grown to love her, but it had not meant to be. So Devon was determined to find a wife this Season and move on from the fantasy he had built.
His future wife would be a countess after all which while no the highest of titles was still very desirable, even more so with the money she would marry into. Devon had thrown himself into his work and had made quite the fortune to fill in the void that had cracked open in his chest.
Now what he would look for in a wife was a good family title, a decent dowry and companionship. But he would need a woman who would understand that he would never love her and not to expect that of him. For only one would ever fill his heart from the brief spring and summer season he had known her.
A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts and dragged him back to the present.
“We have arrived, my lord,” called the driver.
Sighing he knocked once on the roof to let the man know he was ready to be let out. It was time to start this farce.
The door opened into the cool night air, torches and lights light the pathway up to the house where faint music could be heard. Against his own wishes he stepped down, out of the carriage and into the nightlight.
“Let the games begin,” he muttered to himself before stepping forward.
~
His entry did not lack the interest of those he passed by. As a matter of fact all turned to him with looks of expectation. The farther he got into the ball room the more the silence grew until the lord and lady of the house came to greet him.
“Lord de Lacey, how lovely of you to make it,” Lady Wilson said with a deep curtsey.
“Welcome,” Lord Wilson greeted with a slight bow. “I am most sorry to hear of your father’s passing.”
Devon accepted their words, but before he could reply to them a flash of black in the sea of blondes and brunettes caught his eye.
He only saw her for a moment but their eyes met for a slip second and the world seemed to stop.
Her lively blue eyes widened for a moment before narrowing and she ducking out of his view. She reminded him of someone with her black hair twisted up in a French crown.
“Lord de Lacey?” asked Lady Wilson.
“Thank you,” Devon said coming back to himself before he bowed. “Excuse me,” he murmured heading passed his hosts.
Chapter Nineteen
Her breath came in harshly as her heart was ripped ascender in her chest. Malia ran down the hall away from the party and out a set of French doors that lead out to a wide balcony overlooking the gardens below. She leaned back against the wall for support as her body trembled.
He was here.
But why was he here? He did not belong here, or did he?
How much had she truly learned of him?
And he had seen her, here! Is eyes had met hers and had widened. Did he realize it was her?
Malia hit her fist to the wall. The nerve of him! How could he show up now? It has been more than half a year and he shows up at English court?
Something was amiss with this but she could not focus on it. Not while her brain demanded that she seek out her revenge and her heart yearned to see him, to ask him why he had not showed up.
But suddenly even that choice was taken away from her as the French doors were opened once more and he handsome face came into view.
She saw him first, his profile as he looked out the door, his expression searching.
Deciding if she would slip around the next edge to hide or come out faced her. Did she risk him knowing it was she or was she so vastly different then she had been that he would not know it was truly her? Maybe he wouldn’t remember her as she had been nothing more than light amusement or him in their time together.
The last though hurt, but if he was here and was a part of her father’s world that would most likely be the answer?
Dare she be her bold self to find out or stay this pale English version of herself?
With a flare of pride for herself she decided to let him see her. Why not? Eventually it would happen and her chest was already bleeding from the pain.
She would pretend she did not see him as he had been quite when coming out here, so she gave him her back as she pretended to walk from around a jutting edge of the wall to the railing of the balcony that looked two stories down.
She could feel his stare on her back and the hesitation to make himself known.
She had already come this far. She needed to know if he remembered her. She so took it a step farther.
Pretending to sniffle a little as if she had been crying, she rubbed an arm over her eyes and smiled when she heard the doors creak father open.
“Are you alright?” asked the shadow of the man behind her quietly, his accent telling.
For good measure she swiped at her eyes again, this time however tears did prick them as his voice brought back fondly shared memories. Then she peeked over her should before looking back at the gardens.
“I am fine,” she answered, but her voice did crack.
A hand rested briefly on her should before she turned around, knocking it astray. Her eyes flew up to meet his and his stared at her with slight concern.
As his eyes searched her face it dawned on her that he truly did not know it was her.
�
��You should not be here,” she said taking a step back from him. She needed to distance herself because if she didn’t then she would find herself in his unsuspecting arms.
“And neither should you. Why are out her alone crying, if I may ask? I saw you inside and you seemed fine,” he asked, brows drawn.
“I was not crying,” she asserted. She really had not been at first.
“If you say so, my lady,” he agreed but his tone was sincere.
She raised her chin a notch. “It is rude to intrude on a lady’s peace and quiet,” she snapped.
~
Suddenly Devon found his lips pulling in a grin, the first in a long while.
She was spirited and looked so much like his gypsy girl, but she would never have dressed so lavishly. His love had been a tomboy of sorts, this was a true lady.
Realizing her had been acting as he would have with his love he bowed and apologized. Any such lady would be appalled.
“I am sorry, my lady for following you. I simply meant to check on you,” he said to her.
Her lovely face was still pinched, but it did ease somewhat.
He felt however she was not willing to unbend to accept his words. Instead she had a question for him that shocked him a bit.
“Do you know me?” she asked him.
He felt that he did, if she dressed as his Malia had then she could pass as her twin, but his Malia was no lady. She was not the daughter of a lord but the daughter of gypsies.
Devon knew his was projecting on to her his desire for someone else. He knew that he did not know this woman. He was still mourning his loss of not his father, but Malia.
“I do not,” he finally admitted, “But allow me to introduce myself. I am the new Earl of Lindsey, Lord de Lacey.” He bowed again.
She nodded at him, not even welling to tell him who she was. She stood there looking at him like a queen would, ridge and unmovable.
So he motioned for her to return the action.
She sighed but did not give him a curtsey, addressing him with, “Lady Lakewood.”
