He watched the prince carefully. Any change in his posture, even a slight shift in weight, could signal a coming blow.
“Back off now, Stark.”
“Not without the lady,” Peter said.
“Here, here, what’s going on?”
Peter whirled at his master’s voice. Washburn and General Bruce strode toward them across the garden.
“A simple misunderstanding, my lord.” Peter ducked his head. “Miss Orland wished to return to the festivities.”
“This man attacked me!” the prince cried. “I want him arrested.”
“Attacked you?” General Bruce stepped forward and grasped Peter’s arm. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Stark?” Washburn turned to him, his face etched in lines of disbelief and pain.
“I assure you, my lord, I haven’t laid a finger on the prince,” Peter said quickly. “But it seemed the lady did not wish to continue their walk and His Royal Highness wouldn’t listen to her. She asked him to release her, and I—I merely stepped forward as any gentleman would to—”
As Peter spoke, the earl’s eyes widened and his color heightened. Several other men appeared behind Bruce and Washburn.
“What’s the trouble?” one asked.
“No trouble, gentlemen,” Washburn said. “Just a little discussion. General Bruce will handle it.” As the men moved away, he leaned close to Peter and whispered, “Have you lost your mind?”
“N–no, my lord, I don’t think so.”
“What are you even doing out here?” Washburn’s voice rose and cracked.
“I came out to have a word with—with a friend, and I saw the prince and—and his dancing partner.” Whatever happened, Peter knew he must keep Molly’s name out of this if at all possible. “I heard her ask to return to the ball, and she sounded upset. I couldn’t turn my back on a lady in distress.”
Washburn’s gaze bore into him. After a moment, the earl turned and looked at the prince. “Well, now, Your Highness, what say you?”
“I say this man is jealous of the attentions paid to me by a local farmer’s daughter. Perhaps he’s been casting his eye on her himself this week. So when he saw her—shall we say, viewing the stars with me, he got angry and—”
Molly stepped forward and faced the earl, her eyes snapping. “That’s not what happened!”
“Silence, woman!” The prince glared at her.
Molly cringed.
“Here now, Your Highness!” General Bruce stepped to Peter’s side. “Let’s not be rash.”
“My lord, it didn’t happen like that.” Peter reached toward Washburn, but General Bruce’s grip on his arm was like iron.
“I think we’d best have this man confined until we sort things out,” the general said.
Washburn frowned at him. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“Yes, take him away,” the prince said. His eyes darted from Bruce to Washburn and back. “I shan’t feel safe if you let him go.”
Peter’s heart leaped into his throat. What would happen to him? Would he be hanged for supposedly attacking the prince? Imprisoned? Sent back to England in disgrace? He turned to his master.
“Lord Washburn, please believe me. I only stepped up when the lady begged him to let her go. I wouldn’t have presumed to interrupt if I didn’t think she needed assistance.”
While Peter spoke, Bruce had somehow conjured two soldiers out of the darkness.
“Take this man to the governor’s residence and guard his door,” the general said. “Restrain him if you must.”
“You won’t need to do that,” Peter said. “I’ll go with you willingly, so long as someone takes care of—of the lady.”
“I shall see to her,” Lord Washburn said.
As the soldiers shoved him toward the street, Peter heard the prince say, “Really, Washburn, the man was insufferable. He should be hung—or flogged at the least.”
Molly’s stomach tightened. Her throat hurt and tears burned her eyes. How could this happen? Should she have let the prince kiss her and kept quiet? Peter could be killed for dashing to her aid.
“Wait, Bruce,” Lord Washburn said. “Let me speak with the lad for a moment. He is in my employ, you know.”
The general hesitated and looked toward the prince. “Your Highness?”
Albert Edward shrugged and spread his hands. “I’ll allow it. But I realize, Washburn, that Stark is a favorite of yours. Don’t think I’ll let this insult go unpunished.”
Washburn bowed from his waist. “Thank you, Your Highness. I understand.”
Bruce yelled to the two soldiers to stop, and they waited on the walkway with Peter between them.
The prince strode past the general without another glance at Molly. Major Teesdale and several other gentlemen who’d waited a few yards away fell in behind him and mounted the steps of the Colonial Building.
Molly exhaled and kept her place in the shadows as they went back to the ballroom, not sure what she should do. General Bruce stood by with his hands on his hips, and the two soldiers continued to hold Peter by his arms.
Washburn walked over to where they stood. “Peter, my boy.” The earl’s voice was thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I have no doubt things happened as you say.”
“Thank you.” Peter raised his chin and looked his master in the eye. “I regret that I’ve caused you embarrassment.”
“It cannot be helped. If it’s possible, I’ll convince His Highness and the duke that we must keep this quiet. We can’t let it get back to the queen and prince consort. That would spell disaster for the prince and shame for the Crown.” Washburn shook his head. “He should know better. He can’t afford a scandal on this tour, especially so early into it. He has the Canadas and the United States to visit yet.”
“He’s behaved well up until now,” General Bruce said tersely.
“Yes, you’re right. Perhaps between you and Newcastle, you can talk him into reverting to that good behavior.” Washburn’s tone was so sad that tears of empathy sprang into Molly’s eyes. The earl rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I cannot help you now, but I shall try. I’ll do everything in my power.”
“Thank you,” Peter choked out.
“I suppose I might be able to persuade the prince that discharging you from my service would be punishment enough.”
“But I was to leave in the morning, my lord, to make arrangements for the royal party at the next stop.”
Washburn sighed. “I’ll have to send someone else to take care of those duties.”
“Come, now,” Bruce said. “Let’s not drag this out all night.”
“All right. Peter, I shall come to you later at Government House. Do not lose heart. I shall find you, even if they take you to some other place of confinement. I won’t leave the island without making sure you’re all right.”
“Thank you, sir.” Molly could barely hear Peter’s words.
The earl pushed in, ignoring the two soldiers, and drew Peter into a hug. “No matter what the crown prince says, I will not abandon my nephew.”
In the darkness, hot tears streamed down Molly’s cheeks. At first she thought she’d misunderstood Washburn’s words, but Peter returned his embrace for a moment and murmured, “Thank you, dear uncle.”
“Molly! Molly, where are you?”
She snapped from her reverie and flung herself into Nathan’s arms.
“Where were you, Nathan? Oh, where were you? I needed you!”
“I’m sorry. I thought it would be a couple of hours yet, and I walked around to the back. They were giving out punch and sweets to the servants who were waiting for their employers to be done dancing.”
Molly sobbed, and he pulled away from her.
“What is it? Tell me what happened. I saw Mr. Stark being hauled away!”
The Earl of Washburn stepped closer. “Allow me to introduce myself.”
Nathan swung around to see him and caught his breath. “You were in the
carriage today. At the farm.”
“Yes. My name is Washburn.”
“I know who you are.” Nathan straightened his spine and eyed the earl belligerently. “What have you done to our Molly?”
“Nothing, lad. Come sit down over here, and I’ll tell you how things are.”
The earl led them to a stone bench, and Molly sat down with a thud. General Bruce and the other onlookers had melted into the darkness. Nathan settled beside her, uneasily watching Washburn.
“First, Miss Orland, are you all right?”
“Yes, sir.” She dashed at her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Why is my sister crying?” Nathan demanded.
Molly reached over and patted his arm. “It’s not His Lordship’s fault, Nathan. I had some trouble out here with—with a gentleman I’d been dancing with, and Peter came to help me. There was a misunderstanding. The—the gentleman claimed Peter hit him, but he didn’t. I was right there, and I know what happened.”
“We’ll straighten this out insofar as possible in the morning, I’m sure,” Washburn said gently.
“You won’t let them hurt him, will you?” Molly asked.
“I shall do all in my power…which seems very small at the moment.”
“I shan’t be able to bear it if they mistreat him.” Molly sobbed.
“Peter means a great deal to me,” Washburn said softly.
“You said…” Molly glanced at her brother, wondering if she ought to raise the subject in front of him. But why shouldn’t Nathan hear everything? He was as old as the prince. “My lord, you said Peter is your nephew.”
Washburn nodded gravely. “So he is.”
“I thought—that is, we all thought—he was your servant.”
“He is that too.” The earl hesitated then cleared his throat. “Peter Stark has been in my employ for six years. He began as a footman, and he is now my understeward. But his mother, Catherine Stark, was my sister—a sister I never knew.”
“Catherine?” Molly asked.
Nathan eyed her uneasily. “That’s the name Papa and Grandpa said the baby was given—Aunt Mary Orland’s baby.”
Molly looked from him to Washburn and back. “When did they learn this?”
“They told Mum and me about it when they came home from Government House—before I left this evening. They said Lord Washburn told them Mary’s little girl was named Catherine, and that she’s still alive and has a son.”
“Yes,” said the earl. “Catherine was the child conceived by Mary Orland, your grandfather’s sister. My own father…was Catherine’s father as well.” He looked away.
Molly’s face flamed with heat, but the darkness would conceal that. Her mind raced as she followed the implications. “Then you—you are the connection. I never thought it out before, but…oh, dear.” She clapped her hands to her cheeks.
“Yes,” Washburn said. “David Orland and Catherine Stark are cousins. Peter is your second cousin.”
Nathan leaped to his feet. “Peter Stark? He’s our…”
“Yes.”
“Does he know this?” Molly asked.
“He knows.”
She wilted against the stone bench. “He knew all along?”
“He knew as soon as I did, I daresay—when your grandfather showed up at the levee yesterday.”
“Not before?”
“I don’t believe so. Why? Is it important?”
“No. It’s just…”
Washburn and Nathan both stared at her.
“I wondered if he knew when he first met me.”
“I think not, my dear.” Washburn smiled down at her. “He was quite taken with you before he suspected you were an Orland. And when he found out, it didn’t change his regard for you.”
She swallowed with difficulty. “I just don’t understand. If your father had this other child…”
“He never acknowledged Catherine.” Washburn bowed his head. “Publicly, he denied she was his offspring. But he did make some provision for her and her mother. When I grew up I learned the full story, and I made contact with them. After my father died, I got to know Peter. He’s become very dear to me—in fact, I don’t shrink from saying that I love him as I would a son.”
Molly stood and reached for the gray-haired man’s hand. “Peter loves you too. He’s always spoken well of you to me, and I heard what passed between you a few minutes ago.”
“Thank you for saying so. He is a delightful young man, and I’m proud to claim him. I only wish my father had acknowledged Catherine as his daughter.”
“He had no idea what he was missing,” Molly said.
“That is true.” Washburn cleared his throat. “My father’s act of renouncing his own child made me lose all respect for him when I was old enough to understand what had happened. The rift between us never healed.”
“I’m sorry. And you will help Peter?”
“If I can. I shall go to Government House now and see what they’ve decided to do with him. But what of you?” Washburn glanced toward her brother.
Nathan stood and walked closer to him. “I shall see Molly home, sir. That’s why I came here to begin with. I’m angry with myself for leaving my post in the portico. I never should have gone around back.”
“Lad, these things happen. See to your sister now, and you’ll have fulfilled your duty. That is all we can do in this life.” He smiled down at Molly. “My dear, no matter what happens, think of this: Peter Stark is not such a bad fellow to be related to.”
Though she tried to hold them back, Molly burst out in fresh tears. She fumbled in her reticule for a handkerchief. Washburn and Nathan both had theirs out before she could find her own. She gave a shaky laugh and took one in each hand.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said to Washburn as she wiped her eyes with his pure linen one. “And thank you, sir.” She nodded to Nathan, holding his plain cotton square.
Nathan drew in a deep breath and gazed at the earl. “I can’t stand to see history repeated this way. Here’s Peter, who seems to be a fine man, being punished for the same offense for which our grandfather was deported.”
The earl patted Nathan’s shoulder. “Ah, lad, you’re right. In my opinion, Anson was no more guilty than Peter is.”
“It isn’t right.” Nathan clenched his teeth.
“There, now, Nathan, let His Lordship handle this,” Molly said. “We Orlands have shown that we don’t do well when we get mixed up in the affairs of the aristocracy.”
“You’re probably right.” Nathan sighed. “Do you have to go back inside?”
“I left my shawl at the booth in the entry.”
“Then I’ll escort you in to retrieve it.” Nathan offered her his arm.
“Thank you. I suppose I should also say good-bye to the hostess, but—”
“Under the circumstances, it might be better if you let me express your regrets to her,” Washburn said. “I’ll be sure to tell her that you did not misbehave and that she should think none the less of you or your family because of this incident.”
“Thank you, my lord. We may never meet again, and so I bid you farewell.”
“I hope we shall indeed meet again and I shall get to know you better.” Washburn took her hand and bowed over it.
Chapter Twenty
“All right, you, get down, and don’t give us any trouble,” one of the police officers guarding him said.
Peter swung his shackled legs over the end of the wagon and slid to the ground. He staggered and flailed his arms, also bound at the wrists, to keep from falling on his face in the street.
“There now, up them steps.”
Slowly he mounted the stone steps before the police station, laboriously raising one foot at a time. His stomach roiled. The earl had not appeared during his brief stay at Government House. General Bruce had placed a guard of two Volunteers at his door and two more outside the house. He had apparently hashed over the entire incident again with Newcastle and decided t
o get Peter out of the governor’s mansion before Dundas and his wife returned from the ball. The prince, meanwhile, was kicking up his heels at the ball as though he had not a care in the world—or so one of the guards told the other in a voice so loud Peter could easily hear it through the pine door panels.
After a half hour, two police officers had come to haul him away. On his protest, the Irish officer now herding him into the building had told him he was acting on orders from the prince via General Bruce, so it would do the prisoner no good to make a fuss.
“Whatcha got there?” asked a sergeant who was sitting behind a desk in the front room. “Drunk from the festivities?”
“Seems to be sober,” the officer replied. “He’s the gent we picked up at Fanning Bank.”
“Ah, the one what hit the prince.”
“I did not hit the prince,” Peter said. “Please, could I have the services of an attorney?”
“Maybe tomorrow.” The sergeant wrote something in a large book lying open before him. “Every lawyer in town’s up to the Colonial Building, no doubt dancing.”
“But surely—”
“Surely nothing, mister,” the officer holding him growled. “You can do your business tomorrow.”
He shoved Peter toward an imposing plank door and rapped loudly on the wood. Another man looked through a small, barred window in it and the sound of a turning key was followed by the door swinging inward. The guard pushed Peter inside.
“Come on, now, over yonder.”
Kerosene lanterns hung at intervals lit their way. At a long deal table, another man took the paper handed to him by the guard.
“Ah, so you need some more appropriate clothing.” He eyed Peter’s evening clothes. “It would never do to put you inside in those.”
The guard laughed. “They’d tear him to shreds.”
Peter clenched his teeth and said nothing.
“Quite the dandy, ain’t he?” asked the man behind the pine table. He rose and took a pile of folded clothing off a shelf behind him. “Here you go. It’ll be too large, but you’re too tall for the others.”
“Come on.” The guard shoved him toward the far side of the room. He took out his keys and unlocked the shackles. “Strip and put your things on that table. You’ll get ’em back when you’re released.”
Love Finds You in Prince Edward Island Page 21
