Gambler's Daughter

by Ruth Owen

  “Darling, this time is special. Your papa won’t mind. Just keep away from the edge of the cliffs. You are the only one who can get to Ravenshold and bring back someone to rescue us.”

  David’s face brightened. “Rescue you? Like the knight in your story?”

  Sabrina called back, “Yes, like the knight. But you must promise me to be very, very careful. Will you do that?”

  Her only answer was the sound of a dog barking. Apparently David was already off and running before he heard her cautionary plea. She closed her eyes, and sent up a desperate prayer to whatever guardian angel might be listening. I know I’m not in your good books right now, but please keep the boy safe. Please.

  “Prudence?”

  Quickly, Rina scrubbed away the tears of despair that pricked her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to cry out her despair, but she couldn’t afford to, not while Sarah needed her. She squared her shoulders and took Sarah’s hand in hers. “There is nothing to fear. Your father will be here before you know it.”

  Sabrina expected her words to comfort the child. Instead, the girl’s young face dissolved into anguish. “He won’t come. Why should he? He knows it is all my fault.”

  Rina frowned. ” ‘Tis not your fault at all. This cliff path should have been marked as dangerous. You had no way of knowing that the ground would give away—”

  “You don’t understand.” Sarah shook her head so violently that her red curls tumbled around her face. “Papa hates me. He knows it is my fault that Mama left.”

  Rina was momentarily too stunned to speak. “That isn’t true. You mustn’t say such a thing.”

  Once started, Sarah’s confession poured out of her. “You were right. I did not hate Mama. I loved her. And I was so scared when she disappeared. Papa told me that she’d gone to visit an old friend, but I saw them dragging the bay. They thought she’d fallen in. I prayed to God that she’d be all right—I even dreamed that she was lost and in a dark place, calling my name…”

  Gently, Rina smoothed the child’s hair. “It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me the rest.”

  Sarah’s mouth pulled into a hard line. “No, I want to talk about it, especially if we—” She glanced at the edge and the nothing beyond, not finishing the thought. “The dream about Mama scared me so much that I woke up. I went to Papa’s room, so he could sing me to sleep—he used to do that when I was little. But Uncle Paris was there, and he was telling about a letter Mama had written Aunt Cassie. I watched through the door, and heard everything. He said she ran away to live with someone else. She wrote a letter that said she was tired of being a mother and being weighed down by children. I remember the words exactly—‘being weighed down by children,’ like we were stones around her neck. Then Uncle Paris told Papa that the ship Mama was sailing on had capsized, and that she had drowned—”

  Sarah’s voice broke. Tears streamed down her dirty cheeks. “It’s my fault. David was too little to cause trouble. If I’d been better—if I hadn’t been naughty and I’d eaten all my peas, she wouldn’t have left and Papa wouldn’t hate me for making her run away.”

  At last Rina understood why the child would never let anyone get close to her—Sarah was afraid her terrible secret would be found out. My poor dear,” Sabrina murmured as she pulled the quaking child against her. “Your father does not hate you. He loves you.”

  Sarah gave a watery snuffle. “B-but I made Mama run away.”

  “You did no such thing. I don’t know why your mother left, but it had nothing to do with you. Your mother loved you. I’m sure of it.”

  “How?” Sarah whispered. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because—” Rina stopped. She remembered Quinn’s words, that she owed the Trevelyans nothing, that she was less to them than the dirt under their feet. Tomorrow she would be only a memory to Sarah—in a year the girl would probably forget her entirely. The only sensible thing to do was to keep her distance. But Rina had experienced too much pain in her own life to turn away from a hurting child. Especially a child who needed love as badly…

  As badly as Sabrina needed to give it.

  Rina hugged her. “I know your mother loved you because I love you. I never realized how much until this moment, when I thought I might lose you.”

  Sarah’s hesitant, watery smile was the most precious gift Rina had ever received.

  After that, the ledge did not seem so high, nor the wind so cold. The once taciturn Sarah chatted like a magpie, as if all the words she’d stored up for the past few years came tumbling out at once. She told Rina a hundred things. The amazing intelligence of her new pony. The flowers she’d planted by herself in a corner of the garden in Ravenshold. How she could tell the size of a fisherman’s catch by how low his boat sat in the water. The way clouds made shapes on summer days. She talked about everything and nothing, and Rina drank in every word. For this one moment she’d made this darling girl happy. And maybe Rina had helped to heal some of the pain Isabel caused when she’d left, when she’d so callously delivered her grievances through an impersonal letter.

  Sabrina frowned. She recalled what Cassie had told her about Isabel’s letter, how it had told Cassie to bid good-bye to her “beloved children.” Not weighty stones. Beloved. Why would Fitzroy make up something so cruel?

  “Sarah, when you overheard your Uncle Paris talking about your mother—did he specifically say she wrote those things in the letter she sent to Aunt Cassie?”

  Sarah shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe Uncle Paris didn’t remember. I heard a story once of a man who forgot his own name. He was a fishmonger don in Penzance who got knocked in the head by a runaway milk cart and…”

  Rina only half listened to Sarah’s tale. During the years she’d lived with her father she’d developed a nose for dishonesty. This story carried the distinct odor of artifice. And there was something about it that sent a chill down Rina’s spine, as if the ghost of Isabel had come beside her and laid a cold hand on her shoulder—

  A call from above startled her. “Helloooo! Miss Winthrope! Lady Sarah!”

  “We’re here,” Sabrina cried, leaping to her feet. She cupper her hands around her mouth, fighting to keep the wind from ripping away her words. “We are down here!”

  There was a commotion overhead and stones and gravel started to shower down on them from above. Rina shielded Sarah from the cascade until a burly gent in a miner’s jacket plopped down on the ledge beside them.

  “Howd’ya do. Duffy’s the name,” the man said, politely touching the brim of his cap as if he’d met them on a country road instead of a precarious mountain ledge. He gave the thick rope around his waist a solid yank, then lifted his voice heavenward in a lusty yell. “Aye! They’re here and safe as houses. I’ll bring the little miss up first.”

  “Please, Mr. Duffy, be careful,” Rina said. “She has sprained her ankle.”

  “Not to worry, miss, I’ve got six of me own at home and there’s not a day goes by what that one of ‘em doesn’t turn up with a bruise or bump. Drives my missus fair crazy it does, but I know how to deal with sprains. Now, you just wrap your arms around my neck, Lady Sarah, and nod when you’re ready to go.”

  Duffy gave two yanks on the rope, and was hoisted skyward. Sabrina shielded her eyes and watched until they reached the summit. Rina let go of the breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

  A few minutes later Duffy returned to the ledge, and tied the rope around Sabrina’s waist. For a few precarious seconds she dangled over the churning sea far below. Then the rope was pulled upward, and she scraped and scrambled her way to the top.

  Once there, she was surrounded by a crowd of servants from Ravenshold, and a good portion of the villagers as well. Rina scanned the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of Sarah. Or her father.

  What if he hadn’t come? What if he’d just sent his servants to rescue Sarah? His daughter would see his absence as proof he didn’t love her. By God, has the man no heart at all? I thought even he would put his daug
hter’s life above his business concerns.

  “Are you all right, miss?”

  She spun around and found herself face to face with Toby, the lad who’d accompanied her on her ride with Amy on her first day at Ravenshold. Despite her heavy heart, she gave the boy a grateful smile. “I am fine, Toby. But I’m concerned for Sarah. I cannot seem to find her.”

  “Her ladyship be over there,” the youth said, pointing past Rina’s shoulder.

  She turned around and caught sight of a dark man holding a bright-haired child in his arms. Sarah’s arms were wrapped around her father’s neck as if she never meant to let go. And Edward’s cheek was pressed against her hair, his ravaged expression wordlessly showing how much she meant to him.

  Mesmerized, Sabrina watched the private, precious moment. She knew that Sarah would never again doubt her father’s love for her. Blinking back tears of happiness Rina started to turn away. Then Edward raised his head, and his eyes found hers.

  Raw, naked power ripped through her. His gaze poured into her, drowning her, filling her up with all the joy and pain and hunger in his soul. It was as if she stared directly into his heart, a heart so true and fine it made her gasp. The honor humbled her. The honesty devastated her. Though yards apart, they seemed connected in a way she’d never been with another living being.

  The crowd closed around her, cutting off her view of the earl and their shocking intimacy. Rina stumbled back, grabbing Toby’s arm for support. She dragged in a deep breath, struggling to regain her composure. But deep inside her something elemental had changed, something wonderful, frightening and unstoppable.

  With a certainty that comes just once in a lifetime, Sabrina realized she’d fallen in love with the Earl of Trevelyan.

  She’s going to be all right, Edward repeated silently as he stroked his daughter’s hair.

  Edward wished he could be so sure about himself.

  He bent down and kissed Sarah’s forehead, then left the nursery bedroom. He didn’t want to leave her, but Charles had said that she needed her sleep more than his hovering. He’d shooed the rest of the family out, but allowed Edward another quarter hour before he returned and “dragged him out by his ear.” Much as the earl wanted to stay with his daughter, he knew the doctor was right. Sarah needed her sleep. And he needed time to make sense of what had happened.

  Miss Winthrope, the woman he despised and distrusted with every fiber of his being, had risked her life to save his daughter. Such extraordinary bravery was out of keeping with the image of a self-seeking charlatan. He’d been wrong about that part of her character, mightily wrong. And if he was wrong about that, he might well be wrong about other things…

  A faint knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Edward grimaced. “For God’s sake, Charles, I still have five—”

  His ire fizzled as Prudence entered the room. She’d washed the dirt from her face and hair and replaced her ruined gown with a simple dress of cream muslin and a flowered cashmere shawl. But the bruises on her arms and the scratch across her cheek bore silent witness to her valorous deed. Edward stared at her, his feelings as hopelessly tangled as a skein of knitting yarn. “You…should be in bed.”

  “How is Sarah?”

  “She’s f-fine.” Lord, what was wrong with him? He was stuttering like a green lad making his first assignation. Clearing his throat, he clasped his hands behind his back and stated in his most lordly tone, “Miss Winthrope, I have not properly thanked you for saving my daughter’s life.”

  “But you have, my lord. I saw your face when you held her on the cliffs after she was rescued.” She dipped her gaze, and finished in a voice almost too soft for him to hear. “The look in your eyes was thanks enough.”

  Edward remembered little of that moment. Since he’d learned of Sarah’s accident he’d been like a man possessed. If two of the miners hadn’t held him back, he’d have climbed down the cliff with his bare hands to save her. When Duffy had put his daughter in his arms, he’d held her as she hadn’t let him hold her in years, ever since the pain of Isabel’s desertion had wedged itself between both their souls. Against his ear she’d whispered brokenly, “I love you, Papa.” The joy of it had nearly cracked his heart.

  In the midst of that emotion he’d spied Prudence in the crowd. Her dress was in tatters and her hair was coated with dust and dirt. He’d never seen a more disheveled-looking individual, but it didn’t matter. She’d saved his daughter, his precious, priceless Sarah. And when he looked at her, he thought her the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  Which only served to tie his emotions into tighter knots.

  “Nevertheless, you deserve—something,” he finished, his smooth words again deserting him. “Is there nothing that you want?”

  Her chin shot up. For a moment he looked into her eyes, her breathless, drowning eyes, that had bewitched him with such tender sorcery the other night. He remembered holding her in his arms, feeling her heat beating against his chest, and losing himself in the innocent splendor of her eager kiss. Deep inside him something almost broke free. Almost. Then he cleared his throat again, pulled his cynical nature firmly back in place. “I ask again, Miss Winthrope. Is there nothing you want? If it is within my power to give, I shall grant it.”

  She glanced around the nursery. He knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking the same. This is where it started. This is where she had picked out Ginger. This is where she’d begun her lies and deceptions. But it was also where she’d been accepted by his household—a household to which she’d brought only happiness, as Mr. Cherry had pointed out. She’d given his grandmother new spirit, and Amy a new friend. And now, she’d given his daughter her life.

  “For heaven’s sake ask something of me!” he demanded.

  He half expected her to ask for him to acknowledge her. He wished she would. Blatantly asking for Prudence’s birthright would go a long way to proving her the impostor he’d spent the last month believing her to be. But she didn’t ask. Instead, she returned her gaze to him, a gaze as full of shadows and distrust as his own.

  “Then I ask for your ear, my lord. Just for a moment. While I was on the ledge with your daughter she confided in me. On the night you found out that your wife had…gone, Sarah overheard you talking with Mr. Fitzroy. She heard him tell you that Isabel left because of her children. Since then, Sarah has believed that her mother left because of her…and that you blamed her for it.”

  “No. That cannot…oh, God.” He collapsed onto a nearby chair and raked his hand through his hair. “I wondered why she would never let me comfort her after Isabel deserted us—why she pulled away from me as if my touch burned her. I thought it was because she blamed me for her mother’s absence—and that she hated me for it. But to know she thought it was her fault…that she’d been carrying this monstrous guilt in her heart for so long…” He buried his face in his hands. “I should have been here to listen to her, to understand her. I should have protected her.”

  The pain of years past closed around Edward like a suffocating shroud. He was so caught up in it that he didn’t know Prudence had knelt down beside him until he heard her soft voice at his knee. “You couldn’t know what Sarah was feeling inside. It is not your fault.”

  “The hell it isn’t. Keeping my children and family safe is the only decent thing left in my life.” He lifted his face from his hands and gave a short, cruel laugh. “Now I’ve failed at that, too.”

  At first she said nothing. Then her slim, sure fingers wrapped around his rough hand with the gentleness of a prayer. “I cannot pretend to know what you went through. But I do know that your daughter loves you. And so does your son, your grandmother, your sister, and…I’m sure many other people, as well. No man who has that many people who love him is a failure.”

  A hard, bitter lump rose in his throat. “I do not deserve their love.”

  Her fingers tightened around his. “My father—that is, a gambler who attended my father’s mission, once told me that love wa
s a lot like Lady Luck—a man who is fortunate enough to have it should not overmuch question his good fortune. Love isn’t something one deserves. ‘Tis a gift, freely given. Accept the love that your family offers. It is all that really matters.”

  Edward stared at her. Charlatan, his mind cried. Impostor. Pretender. Liar. Every word worked his insides into a more painful tangle. He could not understand why she was saying these things to him any more than he could understand why she’d saved his daughter, or why she’d brought such joy to his home, or why her kiss had filled him with such rare, sweet fire. None of it made sense, none of it. Unless…

  “Edward! Miss Winthrope!” Charles entered the nursery and strode towards them, glancing at Sarah’s closed bedroom door. “My lord, you promised me you would leave this room. And Miss Winthrope, you should be in bed. I want you to lie down for the entire afternoon, or there will be no ball for you tonight.” He offered her his arm. “Come. I will escort you to your room.”

  Prudence gave Edward a final glance and accepted Charles’s arm. The earl stood by the doorway, watching them disappear down the corridor. Then he leaned against the wall, rubbing his chin in deep, questioning thought.