Even after she was snuggled beneath her covers, however, her eyes refused to close and she realized there was one more thing that preyed upon her mind, denying her the rest she needed. Her house was full of children who had suffered. There were so many she had to find a place for. It would not be easy. And then she thought of her very large family and smiled. It might not be so hard a problem to solve after all, she decided, and finally closed her eyes.
Brant lay on his back in his bed and stared up at the ceiling. His bed had never felt so empty. He wanted Olympia’s lush body curled up at his side but knew that was impossible at the moment. Her house was so crowded he could never be able to slip away in the morning unseen. Nor did he want to have to face all those boys as he stepped out of Olympia’s bedchamber. None of them were so blissfully innocent that they would not guess exactly what he had been up to.
He could still taste her on his mouth; still smell her on his skin. Their lovemaking had been swift and fierce, the desire that sparked between them a greedy thing. All the skill he should have gained over the last few years had disappeared the moment he had gotten her naked and in his arms.
The question that nagged at him, keeping him from immediately falling asleep, was why Olympia had taken him to her bed. She was a widow and those women were given some leeway. Many took a lover now and then. He had certainly enjoyed a few in his time.
Yet, Olympia had not done so, not once in all the years since she had become a widow. It puzzled him that she would suddenly become such a fiery lover in his arms. It also flattered him but he knew it would not be wise to revel in that too much. Her kisses told him she did desire him but he found himself wondering if it was the sort of desire that led to more.
He immediately shook aside that thought. He was not a good choice for any woman. He had a mother that would send any woman screaming from his side, a large contingent of half-siblings he now had to help support, three younger siblings he meant to free of his mother’s hold, and a reputation that was so black no decent member of society wanted anything to do with him. And then there was his proven inability to protect those he cared for. He may have saved his two young brothers from his mother’s machinations but that was his only claim to being the sort of man who could protect anyone.
There were so many failures in his past it hurt to think of them. There was Faith, the sweet innocent daughter of a vicar whom he had thought to marry. His mother had destroyed the girl and he had blindly believed that she had fled him, betrayed him with another man. Not once had he questioned that or looked for her. For that he believed he was as guilty of Faith’s death as his mother was. Now there was poor little Agatha, trapped with their mother and facing a horrible marriage to a man most of society would like to see hanged. He had never even thought of his father breeding bastards, which was the height of ignorance, but there appeared to be a lot of them and he had failed them all as well.
If he was a good man, a strong man, he would walk away from Olympia as fast as he could. She deserved so much better than him even as a lover. Yet, he knew he would stay with her for as long as she would allow. If nothing else, she could make him smile and he had not done that for a very long time. All he could do was pray that he had no chance to fail her, too.
Chapter 10
The coffee tasted as good as always. Enid had a true skill with the brewing, so much so that Brant had been a little impatient for the horde of children to finish their morning meal so that he and Olympia could enjoy theirs. He looked at her, her calm beauty stirring him as always, but his mind fixed itself upon the one new fact he knew about this woman who was now his lover. Olympia was the mother of a twelve-year-old boy.
Brant tried to see Olympia as a girl of just thirteen, probably taking her very first steps into womanhood. It was not easy. She was such a strong, confident woman, secure in who she was even with all her eccentricities, that one could only catch the barest hint of the child she might have been when she grew playful with the children. And she had been no more than a child, one who had been cruelly violated by a man who, if the name she carried was any indication, had been a member of her own very large family.
“Good God, you were no more than a child when you bore your son,” he said and then grimaced. “Sorry.”
“You seem to have become infected with my disease of straight from the mind to the tongue and out.” She smiled at him as she stirred her tea. “No need to apologize. I was indeed a child when I bore my son Ilar. There were times when I think Ilar and I were as much playmates as mother and son.”
“Why is he not here with you?”
“Because I came here to shop, to buy a few frivolous things, a few gowns, and perhaps attend a few events. Not anything a boy would enjoy. He is also not really prepared enough to be within the confines of a crowded city. His gifts still need some tempering.”
“He has gifts as well?” Brant had to wonder at all the difficulties that must arise when raising a child with such gifts but bit his tongue, not wanting to divert her from telling more about her son.
“He is the son of two Wherlockes.”
“Ah, of course. It would be most unusual if he did not have one.”
“Quite. And a strong one which is why we discourage the marriage of cousins but,” she shrugged, “it is not completely forbidden for the family is quite large and there have been many generations of outside blood mixed in. Ilar can move things with his mind. At times, when his emotions are running hot and wild, he can lose control and things begin to fly about the room. He is much better than he was as a child, when he often did it in play as well, but the boy is starting his way through that tumultuous path that leads to manhood so what control he had learned had suffered some.”
“I am not surprised. It can be a very difficult time for a boy.”
She nodded. “I found the change from girl to woman not so pleasant myself. His voice changed just before I traveled here. I keep thinking that I am losing my baby.” She shook her head and swallowed the sudden surge of emotion the thought always brought with it. “Foolish.”
He reached across the table and clasped her hand in his. “A little, yes. He cannot stop the change but he is your son. The very fact that you have kept him with you, raised him as your son, despite the brutal way he was conceived, tells me how well loved he is.” He fought the urge to hurry to her side so that he could kiss the blush that colored her cheeks. “I am a bit envious,” he murmured, and silently admitted that it was more than a bit.
“True, he will always be my son, my child, even when I need to step up on a stool to box his ears.” She smiled when he laughed. “Ilar is also very, well, receptive to how the people around him feel. He has great empathy. Perhaps too much.”
“Another gift?”
“Yes, although not as strong as the first one. That is often the case when one of us has two gifts. It is still strong enough, however, to make coming to the city too difficult for him, especially at this time in his life.”
“Is that why you have kept him a secret?”
“I have not truly tried to hide him away. I was married after all so he would carry no taint of being a bastard and my reputation would not be hurt by his presence. Yet, I was so young when he was born that my family kept us both tucked away at Myrtledowns, watched over by my aunt Antigone as well as my cousin Tessa.” She blushed. “My milk did not come in and Tessa arrived with her five children, one still a babe in arms, to be Ilar’s wet nurse. She was with us for three years until her husband left the military and they bought a little farm not far from us. Aunt Antigone is still there, as she was a widow when she came and has stayed because she is very good at teaching Ilar control.
“By the time I was of an age to step out into society, and actually had an urge to go out in it from time to time, my marriage was forgotten by most people and no one appeared to know that I had had a child. We decided to leave it that way. No one in the family mentions my marriage or Ilar before anyone who is not family. I myself only ment
ion my marriage when I feel that the information is needed to stop someone from pushing me to marry.” She grimaced. “I believe some people now hold the foolishly romantic idea that I buried my heart with my husband, Maynard. The only thing I buried with that man was my innocence and my wedding ring.”
“You have not forgiven him for what he did.” Brant was not surprised, would actually be surprised if she had done so.
“And I never will. I know people say one should, but I cannot, not even though I see my Ilar as my treasure, my heart. Maynard broke faith with us all, and used his gift to do so. You see, he did not merely help himself to my innocent body, he forced himself into my mind, ripping away all control I had. Worse, it nearly destroyed my trust in Argus for he has the same gift. I knew in my heart that Argus would never use his gift in that way but it took a long time before I could stop fearing my own brother. A long time. Even now, although I would trust Argus with my life, I often feel a little uncomfortable when he uses his gift.”
Brant patted her hand and then returned to sipping his coffee. “But what Maynard did has kept you from men, has it not?”
“I thought it had but”—she inwardly cursed when another blush heated her cheeks—“I now believe it was simply that no man truly roused my interest.”
“Until me.”
He looked so pleased with himself that Olympia briefly considered throwing a scone at his handsome head. Then she recalled how he had looked last night before they had made love. The look of teasing confidence that was now on his face, the glint of laughter in his eyes, was such a wonderful change from the hurt and despair that had been there, that she could not bring herself to dim it.
“Yes, until you.” Then again, she thought, no one would blame her for finding that confident male grin irritating enough to want to slap it right off his face. “Even then I feared that I might be so badly damaged that I would balk at that last hurdle. I have come to believe that the scars from that day were not as deep as I feared because Maynard had taken such firm hold of my will that I was actually unaware of what had happened until many moments after I awoke.” She shuddered. “I cannot understand, and probably never will, why he did it then for I was no better than a corpse, just a little warmer.”
Brant silently echoed her revulsion. “But, he is dead now, correct?”
“Oh, yes, quite dead. He was killed not long after we were married. He lived just long enough for all of the paperwork to be signed and verified protecting all that is rightfully Ilar’s. And to ensure that no one could ever question the legitimacy of that claim. I can see by the way you are nodding that you find such an action completely acceptable.”
“I do. Any man would. I think it was especially important for the men in your family to act so in your case. Your family is different. From what I have learned, there are many in your family who have gifts that could easily be used in immoral ways. This Maynard fellow used his to steal something you had no wish to give him, were too young to give, and betrayed your entire family with that one brutal act. He revealed that he had no qualms about using his powerful gift for getting what he wanted with no thought to the right or wrong of what he was doing. Your family could not allow him to live and not simply because of the crime he had committed against you. He was a danger to you all.”
Olympia badly wanted to kiss him but fought down the urge to rush to his side and do so. He understood. It had not been a revenge killing, although she knew there had been a lot of that behind the act. It had been a necessary execution of a man who had revealed that he was not only a danger to her, but a clear threat to the entire Wherlocke-Vaughn clan. The way he had used his gift to tear from her what she would never had given him willingly was the very thing that could cause a return of the dangerous, and sometimes deadly, superstitious fears that had plagued the family for most of its history. The killing of Maynard had been, in many ways, an act of self-defense.
“Nay, he could not be allowed to continue. He was of an age to have had full control of his gift for several years so what he did revealed a darkness of the soul, or mind, that would have been a threat to us all, to anyone he met, for as long as he lived. Sad, but it does happen now and then. The family has rules and all know it. You use your gifts to do harm in any way, even through deceit and theft, and you will pay. The court was convened on him and judgment was passed. That allowed my family to take the revenge they were all bellowing for.”
“You have a court?”
“Aye. We have to. Can hardly take such a matter before the King’s Bench, now can we?”
“Ah, no, of course not. So a private familial court is easy to understand. It must require a great strength of character not to use some of the skills you are born with for one’s own benefit.”
“Well, I would never claim that some of us do not do that anyway, if only in small ways.”
“But never to harm.”
“Nay, never to harm. We are all taught the danger of such temptation and the penalty for giving into it from the cradle. We watch everyone in the family and, believe me, that grows more difficult every year as we are a fertile lot and no longer have people aching to hang or drown us as witches.”
“M’lady,” said Pawl as he abruptly appeared in the doorway, “there is a man asking to speak with you. He says he is the Marquis of Understone Hill.”
“Good Lord, the message I sent him could only have gone out a few hours ago,” Olympia said and hastily turned in her seat to check her appearance in the mirror over the sideboard.
“I saw to it the moment I rose this morning.”
“I shall need to change. I cannot meet a marquis dressed in my morning attire.”
“I am not sure he will wait for you to do that. The man is very agitated.”
“You look perfectly presentable,” said Brant.
“The man has arrived at your home at a time when none but family or the closest of friends would admit him. He can take us as we are,” he added, waving his hand over his own attire of shirtsleeves, riding pants, and riding boots.
“Then show him in, Pawl, and bring us some fresh tea and coffee.” The moment Pawl left, she looked at Brant and cocked one eyebrow. “You realize what he shall think when he sees us sharing a morning meal and dressed in this manner.”
“I believe his mind will be too full of the need to find his son to care what we are about.”
She was just nodding in agreement when a tall, fair-haired young man strode into the room. He walked right past Pawl, who was still announcing him, and then stumbled to a halt when he saw that Olympia was not alone. Brant stood to introduce himself and Olympia before showing the man to a chair. Olympia almost smiled at the man’s look of frustration when he began to speak only to have Pawl enter with more coffee and tea, instigating the formality of ensuring that a guest had all that he might want.
“Please,” the marquis said once Pawl had left again, “you said you might have news of my son.”
Olympia bit back the urge to immediately call for Henry and reunite father and son. She studied the man shifting nervously in his seat next to Brant. He was handsome in that English country squire way was but tall and lean. She could see little Henry in the shape of his mouth, his fair hair that refused to stay where it was put, and his handsome blue eyes. She could also sense a deep need in him, one struggling with the fear and hope filling his heart. This man loved his son. What she needed to know was if he loved his wife so much he would refuse to see the danger the woman presented to his child.
“M’lord, I had not realized that you were in town,” she said. “As you can plainly see, I was not at all prepared for your visit.”
“So you do not know where my boy actually is, do you.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “I cannot believe she did this. How could she do this to her own child? I had not realized how terribly ill she was.”
“She?” Olympia prodded when he fell silent.
“I might as well tell you as I am certain the scandal will break soon if t
he whispers have not begun already. My wife. She took my boy away. Told me she sold him for ten quid and I would never see him again. I could not believe it, but the way she spoke of Henry . . .” He swallowed hard. “It was as if she had forgotten that he was her son, too. You would have thought she was speaking of some urchin I had taken in and was paying too much attention to. I fear I was too shocked to guard my words. I was harsh. Should not be harsh with a woman who has clearly lost her mind, should you. But I was.”
“M’lord, I doubt that mattered and no one would blame you for lashing her with words after what she had done.”
“She hanged herself,” he whispered. “That very night as I worked to start the hunt for my son, she hanged herself in our bedchamber. Well, the window of the bedchamber. Tied the rope to the bed, then around her own neck, and then leapt out the window. Doctor Martin said she would not have suffered as she broke her neck.”
“So she is gone?”
“Yes, buried her just outside the family plot as the church would not put her in consecrated ground and I was in no mood to argue for it. Then I came here to look for Henry but,” his voice broke, “I cannot find him. He is just a little boy. Only five. How can he survive whatever she sold him into?”
Olympia looked at Brant, who nodded and quietly went to the door to call Pawl. Knowing it would not take long for the boy to come, she turned all her attention to the marquis. “She sold him to Dobbin House.” The way the man paled told her that, at least once, he had clearly spent enough time in London to know of the place, and she wondered how so many could know yet not do anything about the place but shoved aside her anger over that as now was not the time to go on some crusade. “He was not harmed. There was a woman there who recognized that he could make her some money and kept him to herself. We suspect that she was waiting for news of a reward.”
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