Mary Blayney

by Traitors Kiss; Lovers Kiss

  Robert nodded encouragement.

  “Until today, at the celebration, I would have sworn that the people here had no idea we have been at war. Do you ever feel like you are only watching and not truly a part of the world around you?”

  “Not when I am at sea. But ashore, I felt that way all my life until I met Madeline.”

  Now, there was a bit of honesty he had not expected. “Parts of Spain and Portugal are a shambles,” Gabriel went on, “tens of thousands are dead, and here their biggest concern is why the Gilray ladies have no butler. Is it worth it? If no one appreciates the pain, the death, the loss, why do we do it?”

  “We do it for that very reason,” Wilton said, pausing to sip his brandy. “We do it so that our countrymen can live in comfort and security, with nothing more to worry about than their neighbors’ propriety.” They heard someone come down the stairs. They waited, but no one came to their door. Wilton closed his eyes for a minute and then went on. “We do it so that our families will never have to face what we have.”

  “Oh yes, I see,” Gabriel said. “I have been considering this selfishly.”

  “The work you and Lynette did was the most unselfish gesture possible. You were not in uniform. You worked in secret with no expectation of appreciation, much less reward. Now you are home again, and where do you put the fear, the heartache? You are entitled to some confusion.”

  “All right,” Gabriel said. Calling it confusion sounded much better than selfishness.

  “My consolation comes when I see the boys laugh, when Madeline smiles at me, while I wait to hear a child’s cry. Believe me, Gabriel; all of this is worth fighting for.”

  “Yes, I see.” He allowed the memories now and remembered. “Who did I think of when the beatings were unbearable, when even the rats would not come to visit, when I thought that the French colonel would kill me just for sport?” He stopped the catalog though there were a dozen more he could add. “I thought of the people I love, the ones who love me, my brothers and my sister, of the children they have not yet had, of the men who died.” He stared into the brandy and tried not to count the enormous cost of this peace.

  “That is as it should be.”

  “Lynette would say that she did it for the children.”

  “Yes, she would. Do you know how she thinks?” Wilton asked, as though it might be possible.

  “Sometimes I think I know what she wants, but perhaps it is really what I think she needs. I am rarely able to convince her to accept it.”

  “When you figure out how to do that,” Robert said with a laugh, “please do tell me.”

  “You will be the first to know.” They raised their glasses and toasted their camaraderie. One thing this day had proved was that they were brothers in so many more ways than blood.

  A few moments later there was a true commotion on the stairs. They could hear someone running down and across the hallway, no pause to knock on the door. Yancy threw it open and announced, “It’s a girl, Captain. You have a daughter!”

  31

  IT WAS CLOSE TO DAWN before the household was ready to sleep again. The newest member of the family had to be introduced, first to her papa and then to her brothers.

  Lynette and Gabriel were included as if they were family, and both professed amazement at the beauty of the alternately crying or sleeping babe. Madeline was radiant, declaring that the euphoria of the moment had erased all memory of pain and that the midwife was truly gifted. It was praise the woman accepted with a nod of satisfaction.

  Finally, with a chorus of good nights, Gabriel went down the stairs with Lynette. He took her hand.

  “We have a few moments before the carriage is brought round. Come with me to the lake house, we can sit on the terrace and count the stars.”

  “I have never been propositioned in quite that way before.”

  “No, I truly do mean look at the stars,” he said, shaking his head. “I told you before that we will do the rest on your terms and when you wish.”

  “I think never, Gabriel,” she said, veering away from the front door and walking into the salon that Madeline used to receive those who called.

  He followed her. “Never is not one of the choices. Surely someday you will have room in your life for me.”

  “Listen to me, Gabriel. I had a letter ten days ago from a man named Adam Schotzko. Mama had told me that someone was looking for Mrs. Strauss. I never for a minute thought it could be for something I wanted.”

  She stopped walking and looked at him. “His wife, Ann, had seen my transparencies and brought them to his attention. Dr. Schotzko inquired about offering me work. As an artist,” she said, as if it were the most amazing miracle in the world. “He wants to know if it would be possible to make paper transparencies of the human body based on Vesalius’s drawings. Do you know the book?”

  “De Humani Corporis Fabrica? Yes, of course I do. Yes.”

  “He wants me to test the idea of making transparencies from the drawings. Layering the muscles over the skeleton with a transparency of the skin over all, so that lit from behind they will be easily visible. He will pay me for that. And if it is possible and the results are satisfactory, he will commission me to do several of them.” She shook her head.

  “That is marvelous. De Humani Corporis is one of my most treasured books.” He hoped his father had not sold it. “The art is such a far cry from anything done before. Vesalius actually commissioned artists to do the drawings. He does misrepresent some things, but I can show you the mistakes.”

  “I am sure Dr. Schotzko will give me all the information I need. I am to meet with him tomorrow—or actually, today.”

  “He is here already?”

  “I assume so. And even if the whole project is not commissioned I will be able to support the family for years with this first attempt, thanks to Dr. Schotzko’s work along with Robert’s generous gift of the house rent-free and the money your brother paid me. Why, we will even be able to hire a butler.”

  “So it is the ideal combination of doing work you love for a reasonable wage.” He could feel her slipping away from him.

  “Yes,” she said, with satisfaction.

  Hearing the crunch of the carriage wheels outside, Gabriel stayed her with a hand on her arm.

  “So your work will engross you. Financial security will guarantee your independence. Was my only hope that you would need a patron to support you? Have I not touched your heart at all?”

  She laughed a little, not unkindly. “Oh, Gabriel, I am sorry, but my heart was hardened too many years ago for anything or anyone to touch it.”

  “I was hoping that it had melted a bit now that your private war has ended.”

  “It may be over, Gabriel, but all the goodness was bled from me long before that. All that is left are ugly scars.”

  For her this was the truth and he could think of no way to disabuse her of it. A huge roiling burst of anger overwhelmed him. “I want to kill that bastard Strauss with my own bare hands. My only consolation is that he is burning in the worst circle of Dante’s hell for all eternity.”

  When she shook her head, he went on.

  “You are so much more than good, Lynette. You are generous, loyal, trustworthy, determined, inventive—”

  “Gabriel, do not talk like a besotted fool,” she said, curtly interrupting the list of virtues he had only just started.

  “Tell me, how long has fool been an endearment?” he asked, still angry, but the worst of it was easing as her annoyance showed. “Do you know what that word really means, Lynette?”

  “Whatever it is, it has meaning only for you.”

  “It means ‘I want you here beside me so you can give me back all the love that was taken from me.’”

  He smiled at her and she looked away, but he glimpsed the longing in her eyes.

  “You are wrong. It is only when I am around the children that I see any hope for my future.”

  He raised both hands to frame her face and was encouraged
when she did not swat them away. “I think I must love you.” He said it as a matter of fact, as though discovering something of vague interest. “I love every prickly, angry bit of you. Love is not a prison, Lynette. I want to show you that. I am willing to wait. Until I am convinced there is no hope.”

  She reached up and took his wrists, pulling his hands away from her face. “I will not change my mind.” She said it with a sadness that hurt him more than her words.

  LYNETTE LOST HERSELF in her work for the next few days. Her mother made her join them for dinner, Claire would come and invite her to play and the carter came regularly with the supplies she had ordered for her project. Her plan was to bury herself in her art, with only her cat for company and evenings with the children. That way she was able to dispel thoughts of Gabriel Pennistan, at least during the daylight hours. That worked quite well. Then word came that he had left the Wiltons.

  Left? Without seeing her? Without saying good-bye? Do not be a twit, she scolded herself. You told him it was hopeless, pointless, and he finally listened. Only it was so unlike him to admit defeat so quietly that she felt let down out of all proportion to the news. It was so quiet without him in the neighborhood, as though he had taken all the excitement with him.

  Schotzko had allowed her two days with his copy of Vesalius’s book. Working until her hands cramped, she had come up with an overall design and began ordering the supplies she would need.

  Schotzko had promised to answer all her questions, but there were dozens, and now she wished the man had been willing to leave the book with her. The fact that the cat had spilled a vase of flowers and water onto her worktable surely could not have anything to do with Schotzko’s hesitancy to leave so precious a volume in her hands?

  She was in the midst of composing a letter to the doctor when someone tapped hurriedly on the studio door and came in without waiting for permission.

  “Lynette, I do not know what to do about the butler.” Her mother closed the door firmly and sat down in the nearest chair, rubbing her eyes as if the effort would help her see better.

  “I thought you had found someone for the position?” Lynette wiped the nib and put a cap on the bottle of ink.

  “Yes, I do have one that I think will suit us perfectly. His wife will come and act as governess for the children as well. She is increasing, but another child is always welcome.”

  “Then what is the problem?” She did her best to be patient, but she really wanted to write down the questions before she forgot them.

  “He cannot start for another two weeks.”

  “Mama, we have not had a butler for the two years we have lived here. What is another few days, less than a month?”

  “It seems forever now that I know we can afford one. Gabriel is coming back before he goes to London and offered to help until the new man can start. I thought about it before I wrote back to him. He is going to start as soon as he returns.”

  “Mama! He is Lord Gabriel Pennistan, brother of the Duke of Meryon. He is not a butler.”

  “Of course he is not a butler. He is just going to help with the things I cannot manage myself.”

  “Mama, it will not do.” The cat escaped with a silent leap from her arms. “Have you ever ‘thought something through,’ as you say, and made the right decision?”

  Esther Gilray looked more annoyed than hurt. “Yes, my dear, when I agreed to help you with your wild scheme to save the children.”

  That put an end to Lynette’s annoyance. “I know, Mama, and I am so sorry I said that.”

  “I’m not. I know I am far from perfect, Lynette. I made a terrible mistake with Strauss, but I have tried to make amends here, tried to be the mother I failed to be before.”

  “You have been wonderful.”

  “So you say, and yet there are times when I feel as though you have never forgiven me, that I could go on and on and a part of you would forever hate me for encouraging you to make that match. I may ramble on, I cannot see to read unless the print is large, I am not that fond of cats and I—”

  “Oh, Mama, stop.” Lynette hurried to kneel in front of her. “You were willing to take me in when I had cursed and swore at you. Since then you have never once made me feel anything but loved. I am so grateful to you.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Esther dabbed a tear from her eye. “I will tell you this: I did not make the decision to help you lightly. Even before I knew it would be more than a temporary arrangement. I went to talk to the vicar. We talked, or perhaps I was the one who talked, but in the end I was convinced that anything can be made right with love. There is not a crime so heinous that God will not forgive it. Why, even on the cross, Jesus asked his Father to forgive the ones who were crucifying him.

  “Now, I ask you, Lynette, if Jesus could do that, how could I not forgive my daughter for mere words and, perhaps even more important, let my daughter forgive me?”

  This was her mother at her rambling best. Lynette kissed her on the cheek and stood up. “That is lovely, Mama,” she said, following it with a sigh of resignation. “Lord Gabriel can play at butler if he wishes, but while he is here I will continue to spend most of my time in my studio and he may not come to visit me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, darling, I do. But sometimes I wonder if you listen to me at all.”

  MADELINE WILTON’S HOME WAS as quiet as an abbey if one compared it to Esther Gilray’s. The Gilray home was smaller and was home to twice as many children. When the children were not having lessons, there was always someone begging for attention, or yelling, or insisting they were starving. Doors slammed as often as they were shut quietly, and by noon the hall was littered with balls and toys despite the fact they were picked up and put away each evening.

  The staff took it all in stride, and despite the occasional tears and constant chaos not a one—staff, child or either of the Gilray ladies—wanted to be anywhere else.

  Gabriel learned the routine of the house quickly and began to make the kind of contribution that Mrs. Gilray needed: someone with eyes good enough to do her books for her, to read to the children and to be sure the clock was wound so that, as the days grew longer, she would know by its striking that it was time for the children to prepare for bed.

  It was fun. It would have been a lot more fun if Lynette had been anywhere in sight. She did indeed sleep in her studio and she ate there as well. He saw her exactly once in his first two days in residence.

  “Lynette was a stubborn child,” Mrs. Gilray said as she watched Gabriel. “I thought Strauss had beaten that out of her, but apparently not. I think it is a good sign that she is obstinate with you. A very good sign.”

  Esther Gilray was a romantic. It might be a good sign, but how was he to win her interest if he never saw her? He was able to find out the answers to all the rest of his questions. Mrs. Gilray’s eyesight might be poor, but her memory was excellent.

  When he asked her why she and Lynette had chosen to raise some of the children, she explained in detail. It had not started out that way. She was only to care for them until the parents were located. Then, as it happened, they discovered one boy’s parents had emigrated to Canada. They could hardly send him to an orphanage, could they? The parents of the twin boy and girl had died. They simply could not find Claire and Peter’s parents. They could be dead, they could be in the next town. And the child who had just arrived, his father had died and his mother had remarried and had two children. “That heartless woman told Lynette that she wants no reminder of that time. I suspect she has never told her second husband about it. I do believe that is all of them, and our unique family is complete.”

  Then there were her stories. “Did you know I was an actress? My husband was the son of a wealthy country family who were anxious to have him find a place in society. Instead he married me. Neither one of us regretted the choice, and once Lynette was born his parents relented and were kind enough. One thing I know, Lord Gabriel, is that a true match is about more than money and rank in society. I los
t sight of that when she met Strauss. I will never make that mistake again. So allow me this advice: Do not tolerate her stubbornness for too long.”

  The evening of that second day he went up to the studio with the one item he thought might make him welcome. The door looked like all the others in the house: brutally clean, closed tight against drafts. For Gabriel, opening it would be like stepping into a room filled with treasure.

  He tapped twice, and when there was no answer he opened the door and looked in. He closed the door quietly behind him.

  She was asleep on the window seat.

  Hardly breathing, Gabe stepped into the room, intending to put his package on her worktable and then leave. Her head was leaning against the window, exposing that one sweet spot. It distracted him so completely he tripped over something—the cat—and almost fell. She woke with a start and jumped up.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Yes you did. Yes you did.” She raised a hand as if to still her heart and then bent over to pick up the pad that had fallen to the floor.

  “Did not,” he said with a laugh. “I am not fourteen and you are not a young girl. But we can bicker about it if you wish.”

  “What was my mother thinking to hire you? She is hopeless.” Her expression was pure exasperation.

  “No, I do believe she is just the opposite, always hopeful.”

  “Perhaps you should be flirting with her.”

  “I do, all the time. If you refuse me, we are planning a torrid affair under this very roof.”

  She did not even smile at his joke. “What do you want?”

  “I brought you something that I thought might prove useful.” He nodded toward the package on her desk. “The one gift a man of science might give an artist and both would appreciate.”

  “I hate riddles.”

  He almost laughed. She sounded like Claire when she was tired or hungry. “Then open it, Lynette.”

  She did, untying it carefully as though the boys had wrapped it and a hundred beetles would pop out. When she saw what it was, she stopped and looked at him.