"As you said, I look tanned from the sun, not an adulterous affair."
He rubbed at his skull, trying hard to keep ahead of his temper. He was so angry at his father he could punch a tree. "Don't put words in my mouth. How long have you known of these deeds?"
"The day you caught me crying in the woods; that's when I learned Mr. Telfair wasn't my blood father. But how long have you known of your father's role? Was your pursuit of me to spite Vicar St. Landon? Am I some black token to get even with your father?"
"No." He took her hands and lifted them to his chest. If he could, he’d push them inside so she could feel how his heart beating for her. "Your ability to teach a child to talk or to make signs with his fingers, that was my interest, but things changed."
She stilled and stared. The night sky reflected in her spectacles. Behind the dark rims, her eyes beamed like the stars. The soft echo of her voice sounded like music, "How did it change?"
Against everything he knew to be safe for his soul, he held her close. Would he forever wrestle with Whimple to own these embraces? He'd come to love Gaia; not her race, or the baggage of their fathers, but sweet Gaia. "I don't when or how, but things changed for me. When they did, this marriage seemed right."
Her heart beat strong against his chest. "Things seemed right too, but then you thought I could hurt Mary. You believed me to be white. What do we do now?"
He dipped his head, almost touching her lips. "Do you love me, Gaia? If you do, we can survive anything."
Her hands locked on his neck. "I'm not sure what love is anymore, but what I feel for you is overpowering."
This close to her, all he wanted was to devour her in kisses and push away any thoughts of others, but he pulled away. "Gaia, release me."
She leaned into him, her arms skirting his waist. "I don't understand."
He stood tall, pushing out of her embrace. "I can't keep this up. Release me from this engagement."
Gaia stumbled backwards as she covered her mouth with her gloves. The fine cloth absorbed the moisture leaking from her eyes. "You're like Mr. Telfair. You want no part of a mulatto."
His pupils narrowed, as if she spoke gibberish. "That's not it. I was selfish in this engagement from the start, thinking of how this would help Mary, and then I let my attraction to you take over my reason. But you now have your offer from Whimple. It's what you've always wanted. I have to step out of the way for you to be happy."
Wide-eyed, she gaped at him. "What if I don't want you to do that?"
He took off his hat and fanned his forehead. "Why didn't you tell me about his proposal? Still weighing your options?"
Gaia looked at the ground and the dust gathering on her ivory leather slippers, the ones William had sent. Perhaps she should have left them in tissue paper. "I didn't want you upset."
"Yes. You didn't want to see my temper. I have one, Gaia. It inflames over injustice. It explodes when I need to protect the ones I care for, but I won't let it boil over from the frustration of loving another man's woman. Not again."
She tugged on his elbow and came so close the tarragon scent of his skin filled her nostrils, more so than the tired horseflesh behind them. "Just because Elliot proposed doesn't mean I will accept."
"If Stelford had told me about Elizabeth, I would've stepped aside. If what Stelford felt for Elizabeth was one tenth of what I feel for you…" He rubbed his brow. "It is my duty to give you the desire of your heart."
"No, you're afraid; I never would have guessed it, but I see it now."
His head tilted above her, as if the sky would tell him what to say. Then he nodded. "I've done the vows of faithfulness, had the marriage breakfast. Can you promise our story has a happy ending?"
"Do you love me, William?"
"What I feel is irrelevant. The draw to your true love will be too deep." He tipped a rock and kicked it deep into the night. "I'm a widower with a special daughter. All the money in the world can't take away the fear that my unchecked temper will make you hate me. One day, you will regret the whim that has taken you from your precious Whimple."
She shook her head. "You're tired; you don't know what you're saying."
"Do I need to break something for you to listen? That got Elizabeth's attention."
"I'm not Elizabeth." She wanted to shake her fists at him again. Instead, she took a long breath. "If I knew you had enough room in your heart for me, that I could be safe in your love, then I would be yours forever. Can't you see that? I'm afraid that you will hate the mulatto you've married, that you will dread the dark skin our son may have or, worse, you think me unfaithful because of the past."
His gaze swept over her, but his mouth stayed a flat, grim line. He must not believe her.
"You want me to beg off our engagement? Fine, consider it done." She sprang back onto the mare's back. "I guess we'll never know what it would be like, but I was willing to try. I see you, William St. Landon, temper and all, with the questionable father, the baggage, and I still wanted to be in your life."
"Gaia?"
She turned her back to him. It was too late. His mulatto courtship was over. She sprang onto her mount, reached down at the dusty slippers that made her feel treasured, picked one off, and tossed it to him. "I'll pray for you to find happiness so you'll not become like Mr. Telfair, but at least I know why, when I reached for you, you can't reach back."
Gaia made her horse sprint to Ontredale. A few leaps away, she sank into the saddle. William shouldn't see her tears. He shouldn't change his mind out of pity.
With a leather slipper caught in his palm, William watched Gaia ride all the way to Ontredale's steps. The girl rode faster than he’d thought her capable. It was best she left him now. He couldn't live tentatively, waiting for the moment she decided their marriage was a mistake.
The rain started as he shifted his weight atop Magnus. The initial drops obscuring his vision turned into a relentless pounding. He pulled his greatcoat tighter about him and waited until he saw the light of the entry brighten from the opening door. He might be soaked, but Gaia was safe inside; safe from his temper and his love.
He shook from the wetness seeping into his collar. The last thing he needed was to become so waterlogged he succumbed to an ailment. He'd never been so sickly. His blasted cousin's treachery gave illness a new meaning.
Frozen in place, he counted windows, and wondered what rooms Gaia visited.
Her heated words rang in his head. She admitted to wanting a life with him, and he’d rejected her. And now she wore the shoes he'd bought her. Now.
He fingered the slick leather of her shoe and wiped off droplets of cold rain. Blasted rain. The smooth ivory material hadn't stained in the water. Tough enough to endure long hikes, but stylish enough and dear enough to be treasured, just like Gaia. Tucking the slipper into his coat, he thought of the turn of her countenance as she fled on horseback. She didn't seem relieved by a break, but hurt. What was he doing, making decisions based on fear or hatred, or rain?
William slapped his skull. He needed to ride at full speed to clear his mind. He turned his gelding away from Ontredale, and took to the moors. The minute he broke free to the wide-open flat plains, his spirit soared. He could breathe.
The scent of freshness and splashing mud filled his nose. During Parliament, he longed for rain to cleanse the London air. When it did, for a few minutes, it smelled like this; clean and honest.
A high tor sat to his right. If it weren't so wet, he'd climb the slick point, as he'd done so many times growing up in Devonshire. A little older, a little wiser, he needn't risk life and limb. Mary would have a hard enough time. She needed one living parent.
His father would be proud of his caution.
Now William's stomach turned.
If he were truly honest with himself, he'd darken his own daylights for comparing Gaia with Elizabeth. The two were nothing alike.
His wife died more than a year and half ago, and his anger at her had not relented. Now, he judged Gaia b
y Elizabeth's failings. The leather strap of the harness slipped his glove and slapped his cheek. The sting made him refocus on the path. He pointed Magnus back toward Ontredale. With Gaia gone, he needed to be there if Mary had one of her terrible nights.
If he decided to forgive his child's mother, how would he do it? Cold in the ground, Elizabeth couldn't admit she needed forgiveness. Nor could his father.
Magnus slowed to the point in the road where he could journey to Ontredale or turn to his father's old chapel. If William were going to forgive the dead, he might as well start with the one toward whom he harbored the most offense, the man who sold Gaia's father into slavery. He nudged Magnus forward to his father's old vicarage.
Gaia eased out of the rocking chair and took a closer peek at Lady Mary. The child closed her eyes. One arm wound tighter around her doll, the other clutched her blanket. She did it… soothed herself, and went back to sleep.
Gaia leapt up but landed on quiet scrunched toes. Too much noise and she'd wake the poor girl. What a shock to enter Ontredale and hear the child shrieking! No matter how mad she was with William, she'd never leave Mary so upset.
With a little more work, maybe crying could be replaced by other gestures, then words. A joy raced in Gaia's heart. If she continued to help Mary, love her, the child might start speaking again. The thought of loving William might be gone, but she could still aid Mary. Rescuing Julia tonight would have to be enough for Mr. Telfair to agree.
Reaching into the crib, she tucked the pink blanket about the child. Mary smiled in her sleep. Maybe butterflies met her in this dream.
Gaia's heart beamed. She did love Mary, but children were her weakness. Pity William was such a dunderhead. How dare he want to end things, right when she thought she might love him!
She tiptoed out of the room and left the door cracked. Her fingers smoothed the fine mahogany grain, the fresh notches. William's steward must've been busy making repairs, but she wasn't ready to test the lock.
Gaia pivoted and backed into Mrs. Wingate. "I'm sorry."
"No harm done, ma'am." She smoothed her skirt and picked up her folded sheets. "I'm just glad you've returned. You're a good influence on his lordship."
Gaia influenced William? Influenced by a mulatto? Not possible. "Mary's sleeping. Make sure no one disturbs her."
"That I will." Mrs. Wingate's solemn expression lifted with the curl of her lips. "I couldn't get your brother to take a nap. I left him writing in the drawing room, but he might be getting a cookie from the kitchen." The housekeeper curtsied then walked down the long hall.
Gaia clutched the railing and took to the treads. With a glance at the window, she witnessed drops of rain growing on the amber glass.
Good and wet. Maybe the rain would wash away William's nonsense. Nevertheless, he'd been sick. The rain couldn't be good. He might be able to turn off his feelings, but she couldn't. "Lord, keep William in Your care."
God always heard her, even when she spoke nonsense, and He still loved her even when she turned away. Gaia's spirit lightened. She slipped past Albert and reached for the drawing room doors. What mischief could her brother have gotten into unattended? Entering, she didn't see him at the drawing desk. "Tim... Miss Smythen, when did you arrive?"
William's cousin stood up from the sofa.
The woman wrung her hands together. Her onyx cape was damp, and clung to her arms. "I've come to talk to William. I need... Why am I explaining myself to you?"
Any desire to make the lady more comfortable disappeared. With that horrible attitude, Miss Smythen could stay wet. "Cheshire is not here. I think you'll need to come back tomorrow."
Miss Smythen's countenance darkened. Her lips twitched then settled into a frown. "Not here? Then I'll go see Mary. I do miss the dear. Perhaps I'll take her on a walk."
Gaia squinted at her. What an absurd notion on a night like this. "It's the evening and it's raining. The child has just settled down."
With a huff leaving her lips, Miss Smythen moved near. "I am her nearest relation. If I want to go see her, I will."
Was that a threat? Something was terribly wrong. "You know the duke is very vigilant of Mary's routine. He wouldn't want his daughter awakened."
The woman pranced from the room and headed for the stairs. Gaia caught her. "Don't make a fuss. Why don't you go back into the drawing room? Let's have a civil cup of tea."
"If you insist." She walked back into the room.
Gaia approached Albert. "Please go to Mary's room. Let no one go into it without Cheshire's or my approval."
His deep brown eyes whipped over her. "I want to, Miss, but I can't leave my post."
"It's important."
He nodded his head and took to the stairs, just as Mrs. Wingate descended. "Albert, where are you going?"
His shoulders drew wide. "Miss Telfair says to guard Lady Mary."
Mrs. Wingate dipped her chin. "She is to be the mistress of this house. It's fine to do the good things she says."
"Yes, ma'am." Albert pivoted, bowed toward Gaia, then continued up the stairs.
Her mind eased. Something about Miss Smythen's demands to take the child set the hairs of her neck on edge. She wouldn't let the agitated woman around helpless Mary, not without William to supervise.
Mrs. Wingate passed beside her. "Ma'am, where are your shoes?"
"One's caught in the storm, the other is in Lady Mary's room.
The old woman smiled and then headed toward the kitchen. "Seems as if you need to decide where you belong."
As she straightened her posture and put her finger to her sides, Gaia looked Mrs. Wingate in the eye and prepared for a dressing-down. Knowing her bloodline, she had to disapprove.
The housekeeper smiled. Her gaze set, as if she truly looked at Gaia. "I think you'd do more good here than outside Ontredale. Miss Oliver, the girl you befriended once, she was involved with my nephew, an under-gardener here. You did her a service, being kind to her. Your goodness outshines everything."
Gaia didn't know what to say, and she stood there, blinking at Mrs. Wingate traipsing down the hall. The goodness inside, manifesting Christ's love in her heart for others, made a difference in Mrs. Wingate's opinion… shouldn't it make a difference to Gaia?
Yes; yes, it should.
Smiling, she marched into the drawing room just as a maid left through the side entrance. Miss Smythen stirred the pot and poured two cups. Over tea, she'd get the woman to settle down and unburden herself. Maybe if she waited with his cousin long enough, she'd see William one more time. One last moment of privacy, she could tell him of her intentions to help Mary, even without their marrying. Hopefully, the rain cleared his fog long enough to listen.
"Let's toast to the new Duchess of Cheshire." The woman lifted the tiny china cup to Gaia.
Heat from the cup warmed Gaia's palms. The tea smelled like almonds and a hint of something else. Anxious over William still being out in such weather, she sipped the hot tea, hoping it would ease her stomach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Forgiveness
LIGHTNING SILHOUETTED THE outline of a cross atop the vicarage. The stars cast light over the small cemetery next to the main building. The last time William visited, the war had ended, and he came here to view his father's grave. Sadness filled him on that cold, grey day. His father never cared for his military successes, and William had stopped trying to earn his approval. They hadn't seen each other in years.
He should be alive today so he could be confronted over what he did to Gaia's father. How could he be so cruel? Who gave him the power to destroy lives?
Leaping down, he tugged his top hat a little tighter, so the wind wouldn't catch the brim. Miserable weather shouldn't stop William from having his say. He tied Magnus to the wrought- iron gate and stalked to the cemetery.
His boots sank into muck as he passed headstones and sculptures until he got to the grave at the base of the elm tree. The farthest from the rest seemed fitting for the aloof vicar. Wil
liam bent down. A flash of light cast a rainbow on the stone. He turned to view the great stained-glass of the church. Another lightning strike illuminated the cross within the colors. His father had loved this living, the quaint church possessing the hardest pews in all of England.
With his gloves, William pushed dirt from the stone and gave the headstone a little polish. Reverend Joseph St. Landon.
As a lad, pride filled William's heart when his father preached from the pulpit. It wasn't until William read the entire Bible and discovered that the scriptures held more than correction for sin. It also possessed the word ‘grace’. Reverend St. Landon never preached it or offered it to his household.
He definitely didn't offer it to Gaia's mother and blood father. He wouldn't offer it to Gaia. He'd shun her, and Mary too.
"Papa, how could you stand in that pulpit and offer nothing but condemnation?"
He let his voice get louder; maybe the old man could hear him. "Papa, why did you twist God's love, and show hate? Did you not know of His love?"
"Adultery is wrong. There is no right in it, but plenty of men and women commit it. Did Gaia's father have to be sent to death? If he'd looked like Stelford, would you have absolved him?"
"I love Gaia. Her race doesn't matter to me. If she will still have me, maybe her blood will cleanse our line."
Heat built in William's lungs, but he blew it out. His lips caught an extra portion of rain droplets. Thinking of all the bad things his deceased father accomplished would never heal his innards. He'd have to remember that, before he was Cheshire or St. Landon, or even William, he was called ‘son’. With the man dead, did his crimes matter?
As Gaia would do, he called out to God this time. "Lord, how do I honor a father who is less than?"
Unmasked Heart_A Regency Romance_Challenge of the Soul Page 26
