by Cheryl Holt
“We’re marrying as soon as we can obtain a Special License.”
“You actually assume Nicholas Swift would wed you? You? You’re a penniless spinster!” Desdemona laughed, but it sounded like a witch’s cackle. “You are too, too hilarious.”
“The ceremony is tomorrow,” Sarah stoically stated.
“You and Nicholas Swift? I don’t think so. Clayton and I are returning to London tomorrow. Nicholas is accompanying us. There’s a high-stakes card game starting on Saturday, and he always plays in it. It’s where he earns most of his money for the year.”
“He’s not going to London with you,” Sarah loyally said.
“You’re an impoverished nobody, and you suppose he’d give up a year’s worth of income for you?”
“I’ll send you an announcement after it’s over.”
Desdemona’s expression softened a tad, and for a moment she wasn’t quite so spiteful. “You really believe him, don’t you? Oh, my. This won’t end well.”
They were in front of the hotel where Sarah and Mildred had seen Nicholas strolling with Desdemona when they’d ridden back from the cemetery. The door of the establishment opened, and Mr. Farnsworth bustled out. Desdemona motioned for him to join them.
“Clayton, darling, I’ve been conferring with Sarah about her infatuation for Nicholas Swift.”
“Hello, Miss Barrington. Or is it Henley? How should I address you?”
“Miss Henley is fine,” Sarah said.
“You’re infatuated?” he huffed. “Egad! He’s not the type of fellow with whom you should be consorting. It causes me to wonder if you have the moral temperament required to live with my aunt.”
Sarah wouldn’t discuss Mildred with him, and she certainly wouldn’t dawdle in the street and allow him to scold her.
“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Farnsworth, and I’ll be sure to share your opinion with Mildred. Now then, I must be off.”
But Desdemona wouldn’t let it rest. “Clayton, remember the wager I made with Nicholas? It was about Sarah. You were there.”
Sarah thought her heart would stop as Mr. Farnsworth said, “Yes, yes, the two of you were bickering over her chastity and whether he could relieve her of it.”
Sarah gasped. She couldn’t hold it in. “That’s not true. It can’t be.”
Mr. Farnsworth glared at Desdemona. “You challenged him for not being skilled enough to seduce her, and he insisted he was. He claimed he could debauch anyone, and you claimed he couldn’t.”
“My cousin has fallen for the dashing scoundrel,” Desdemona told him. “She thinks he’s genuinely fond.”
Mr. Farnsworth frowned at Sarah. “Miss Henley, you can’t be that stupid.”
Desdemona continued. “What was the amount of my bet with Nicholas, Clayton? Do you recall?”
“Twenty pounds.”
Sarah collapsed slightly, and Mr. Farnsworth reached out to steady her as she asked him, “You’re positive it was twenty pounds?”
“Yes,” Mr. Farnsworth answered. “It was the reason he finagled the invitation to Bath from my aunt. He wanted to be in close proximity to you so he’d have more chances to coerce you.”
“There you have it, Sarah. You’re not quite so cocky now, are you?” Desdemona peered at Mr. Farnsworth. “When is Nicholas heading to London? We’ve been debating if he plans to leave for town or not.”
“He’s leaving tomorrow.”
“Why is he going?”
“For the card game. He reserved a seat months ago.”
Desdemona nodded. “Clayton, it appears Nicholas has won his bet regarding Sarah.”
“Desdemona!” Sarah snapped.
But her cousin wouldn’t be silenced. She said to Mr. Farnsworth, “You’ll have to speak to your aunt about it. She shouldn’t employ such a tart. It’s beyond the pale.”
Mr. Farnsworth swung to Sarah again. “Is this true, Miss Henley? Are you ruined by Nicholas Swift?”
Sarah was so overcome she couldn’t reply. Their revelations were shocking and disturbing, and she had no idea what to make of them.
She and Nicholas were in love. That very moment, he was at Mildred’s house and asking for Sarah’s hand in marriage. They would get a Special License and wed in a day or two. Wouldn’t they?
Then she considered how little she actually knew about him. His world was one of dissolute companions and gambling. Would he have chatted with Desdemona and blithely wagered over Sarah? Would he have laughed about what a libertine he was and how easily he could convince her to succumb?
Would he behave in such a crass manner? Would he loaf in a crowd of people and jest over a maiden’s downfall? She simply couldn’t imagine it occurring, but how could she be sure? What if she arrived at Mildred’s only to discover that he hadn’t visited? What then?
She had to talk to him at once. She had to look him in the eye and ask him about Desdemona’s accusations. He wouldn’t be able to lie to her. She’d detect any falsehood. At least she thought she would.
She was a loyal person. She was a faithful person. She had good judgment and made prudent choices. She couldn’t be so wrong about him and his motives. No man could feign the affection he’d shown her.
And yet…and yet…
The first time she’d ever seen him, he’d been swimming with a nude Desdemona. Was such risqué conduct common for him? What if they married and he informed her that he planned to regularly participate in such depraved displays? What if he intended to persist with his philandering?
She was dizzy with distress, and she couldn’t move. How would she get home? Which direction was she to go?
What if…what if…what if…
She was shaken out of her stupor by Winston Winthrop rushing up to them.
“Clayton!” he called. “I’ve been searching everywhere.”
“Calm yourself, Winston. You’ve found me.”
“You won’t believe what’s happened. I listened through the parlor window.”
Mr. Farnsworth blanched. “How bad is it?”
“You’ll have to take the action you arranged. You’ll never stop it otherwise.”
“Excuse me, ladies,” Mr. Farnsworth said to her and Desdemona. “Winston and I must confer in private.”
He clasped Mr. Winthrop’s arm, and they hastened off. Desdemona watched them depart, then she turned to Sarah. “You’re green around the gills, Cousin. I hope you’re not ill. A babe in the belly can bring on nausea. Are you feeling sick to your stomach?”
“Shut up, Desdemona.”
“Has Nicholas planted a little Swift where he shouldn’t have?”
Again, Sarah should have declined to comment. What was the point of trading insults? But she couldn’t resist. “We heard from that gypsy, Dubois, that you and Jasper will lose everything next year. Dubois is incredibly accurate in his predictions so you better brace yourself.”
“You obnoxious shrew!” Desdemona shrieked. “That reading is none of your business! How dare you mention it!”
“Write to me after tragedy strikes. I can give you advice on how to regroup and carry on.”
Desdemona bellowed a string of curses that had passersby halting and gawking. Sarah spun and ran, and she kept running until she couldn’t continue on another step.
She paused to get her bearings. There was a rock wall beside her, and it was the one where she’d tarried a few nights earlier with Nicholas. She sat down on it, and she dawdled forever, pondering each of Desdemona’s hateful words, but it was too painful to reflect on the conversation.
Why was life so hard? Why were people so cruel?
She had to speak to Mildred, had to learn if Nicholas had visited. What if he had? What if he hadn’t?
Consumed with dread, weary beyond imagining, she pushed herself to her feet and proceeded on to Mildred’s house. What would she find when she arrived?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sarah tiptoed into the house. Sh
e hung her shawl and bonnet on a hook by the door, then she paused, listening for voices. The residence was very quiet except for Mildred who was upstairs and humming to herself.
Sarah climbed to Mildred’s room, finding her over by the window and gazing out into the garden. She was swaying back and forth, dancing to a song that was playing in her head.
“Mildred,” Sarah murmured.
As Mildred turned toward her, she had the oddest expression on her face. It was a combination of shock, joy, and distress. There was a peculiar charge in the air, as if a storm was approaching.
“Sarah!” she replied. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Why are you up here all alone? Are you all right?”
“I’ve never been better. You look distraught though. Has something happened?”
“I ran into my cousin, Desdemona,” Sarah said, “which is always irritating. What have you been up to while I was out?”
Mildred made a waffling motion with her hand. “This and that.”
“Did Nicholas stop by? I was thinking he might call on us today.”
“Oh, yes, he stopped by.” Mildred grinned, but didn’t expound.
“I’m sorry I missed him. How is he?”
“He’s quite grand.”
Sarah studied her and was deluged by the strongest sense that her friend wasn’t well.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong, Mildred? You’re acting strangely, and it’s scaring me.”
“I’m…ah…overwhelmed.”
“I can see that. Why don’t you sit down for a minute? You can tell me what transpired.”
Sarah escorted her to a chair and helped her into it. There was a tray on the dresser with a decanter of wine and a glass. She poured some wine and took her the glass. When Mildred didn’t reach for it, Sarah wrapped her fingers around the stem and lifted it to her lips, holding it until she’d downed several swallows. Then Sarah walked to the bed and balanced her hips on the edge of the mattress.
“What is it, Mildred?” she asked. “Has Nicholas talked to you about me?”
Mildred frowned. “About you? No. He said plenty though, but on a different topic.”
“What topic?”
“I hadn’t planned to mention it yet. I was anxious to keep the news to myself for a bit longer, but I’m happy that you’ll be the first to know.”
“Know what?”
“I’ve told you about Robert and my son. I’ve been searching for both of them for thirty years.”
“And…?”
“I’ve found my son.”
Sarah could have fainted with astonishment. “Where? How? Who is he?”
“It’s Nicholas of course.” Mildred laughed in a bizarre way. “He’s been standing in front of me all these weeks, and I didn’t notice.”
“Nicholas Swift is your lost boy?”
“Yes, and he’s exactly the sort of man I envisioned he would grow up to be. Isn’t this the wildest, grandest ending you could ever imagine?”
“I thought he had no information about his parents. How did he decide you were related?”
“I guess it was details you shared with him about my past.”
“Me!”
“You provided some of my history to him, and he realized the truth. He’d been wondering, and when you confided in him it simply confirmed what he’d suspected.”
Sarah cringed with dismay. She had told Nicholas about Mildred’s tragedy. She had furnished names and facts that he couldn’t have deduced if she hadn’t indiscreetly gossiped about them. Then miraculously, he confessed—when Sarah wasn’t present to prevent him—to being Mildred’s missing boy.
Desdemona’s words about him were suddenly pummeling her. Desdemona had painted a very diverse picture of Nicholas Swift, one that was sinister and disturbing.
Wasn’t it convenient that he magically came forward just after Sarah had apprised him about Mildred’s desperate quest? It was definitely curious, and with how Mildred was yearning for answers it would be easy for a confidence artist to manipulate her.
Nicholas was a gambler, and he admitted to practicing deceits and swindles. Would he have used his charlatan’s scams on Mildred? Would he have tricked her? There was so much money to be gained, and Nicholas never had any money. What might such a fellow do to glom onto a fortune?
Her skepticism was increasing by leaps and bounds. “What was it besides my comments that established his connection to you?”
“He’d heard stories—from that harlot who was paid to raise him. Plus, he had numerous documents that proved his case.”
Sarah scowled, not wanting to crush Mildred’s excitement, but being determined to inject some sanity into the conversation. “What kind of documents?”
“He showed me a birth certificate and some other things.”
“Are you positive they were real?”
“They seemed to be, but I’ll have my lawyer, Thumberton, check all of it for me. He’s terribly clever.”
“Where is Nicholas?”
“He went to that house Clayton is renting to get his belongings, then he’s coming back here.”
“To stay?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say anything about me to you?”
“No, but then we were occupied with other subjects.”
Sarah was in an agitated state and confused about how to proceed. Was Nicholas’s assertion any of her business? Obviously, people should be notified about the situation, especially Clayton Farnsworth, but she would never confer with him about any problem regarding Mildred.
Was this why Mr. Winthrop had been searching for Mr. Farnsworth at the hotel? Had he learned of the shocking development? Had he immediately tattled to Mr. Farnsworth? If so, trouble was approaching.
“Is Mr. Winthrop here?” she asked.
“No, he left for London.”
No, he didn’t…
“I have to speak to Nicholas,” Sarah said.
“Then you should simply wait for him. He had several errands to run, but he’ll join us for supper.”
“It has to be sooner than that. Where is your nephew’s house located? Perhaps I could pop over there and catch him before he’s leaves.”
“It’s silly to chase around after him.”
“I don’t mind, and it’s incredibly important. My cousin is hoping to play a card game with him, and I’d hate to have him involved in it. I should try to dissuade him.”
“Nicholas won’t have to play in many more card games. Not anymore. His luck has changed.”
“It certainly has.”
Mildred brightened. “Why, Sarah, he can marry you now. He’s not poor. Not for much longer anyway.”
Sarah bit down a gasp, her qualms battering her like a thick club. What scheme was Nicholas pursuing? He’d met with Mildred, and he hadn’t mentioned Sarah once. He’d claimed to be Mildred’s son, and it appeared he was stepping into that role with very little discussion or debate.
A very bad conclusion was winging toward all of them. Sarah could feel it in her bones.
“Where is Clayton’s house, Mildred?”
Mildred sighed and told her, and Sarah nodded.
“Why don’t you rest until I’m back?” she said. “You should take a nap.”
“I don’t need to rest. I’ve never been better. Not since I was eighteen and madly in love.” She shooed Sarah out the door. “Find Nicholas—if you must. But if he’s not there, come home. We’ll see him at supper.”
And we’ll talk about what?
Sarah spun and dashed out.
* * * *
Nicholas shoved a last shirt into his portmanteau, then he looked around the room he shared with Michael Fenwick, wanting to be sure he didn’t forget anything.
He was eager to depart before Clayton or Desdemona returned. He had no desire to chat with either of them, and of course he and Clayton would soon be chatting about many issues he’d rather not cu
rrently consider.
Someone tromped up the stairs, and he glanced over as Michael Fenwick walked in. Nicholas hadn’t realized anyone was loitering in the dreary abode, and he’d been anxious to sneak in and out without explaining what was transpiring.
“You’re abandoning us, Swift?” Fenwick asked.
“Yes. I’ve decided to stay with Mildred Farnsworth again.”
“For good?”
“Apparently, yes.”
“With you’re trotting off so hastily, I assume there’s money in the balance.”
Nicholas snorted with amusement. “You would assume that, you pathetic criminal. I don’t suppose it would ever occur to you that she and I simply like each other very much.”
“No, it would never occur to me. Watch out for Clayton. He has strange views about how he has to protect her, but it doesn’t seem to me that she needs protecting.”
“I know.”
“Don’t trust him. He’s dodgy.”
“I agree.”
“I’m calculating the angles for you, Swift. No one is shrewder about it than me.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Are you short on funds? Can I loan you a few pounds before you go?” Fenwick had emptied Clayton’s purse the prior night so he was flush with cash. “I’m happy to throw some of Clayton’s money in your direction.”
“Thank you, but my fiscal situation has recently improved.”
“Well, that’s a grand thing for a man like you to be able to say. Enjoy your stay with Miss Farnsworth.”
“I intend to.”
“I’ll guard your back with Clayton. I’ll make sure he travels on to London as planned.”
“I appreciate it.”
Fenwick grinned—as if he’d guessed precisely what was happening with Mildred. He studied Nicholas, waiting for a confession, but Nicholas never told tales.
“I forgot to mention,” Fenwick said, “that you have a visitor.”
“I have a visitor?”
“Miss Barrington is here. Or is it Miss Henley now?”
“It’s Henley.”
“Does she have a twin named Catherine?”
“Yes.”
“I met her at a house party a few weeks ago. She was leading some idiot named Christopher Stanton on a merry dance.”
