Jo Beverly

by Winter Fire

  Ash must have relaxed his grip, for the man almost broke free and he had to tighten his hold to restrain him. The Irishman cried out.

  “Don’t hurt him!”

  “I won’t if he’ll stop fighting,” Ash snapped back. “Have done, man. If you know anything about Sheena O’Leary, we want to hear it.”

  “Where is she, then? What have you done with her?”

  Genova saw the door to the nurseries crack open and Sheena peep out. The girl gasped, “Lawrence!” But then she shut the door and Genova heard footsteps pounding up the stairs.

  She dashed to open the door. “Sheena, come back down here!”

  Tone or words worked. The girl turned and crept back down, muttering something in Gaelic. Lawrence answered her and they started a rapid conversation.

  “Silence!” Genova commanded. To Ash, she said, “We can’t let them sort out their story before we’ve heard it. Bring him along.”

  “Aye, aye, captain, but where?”

  She grinned at his reaction. “Your room is closest.”

  Where they’d been going.

  This had broken the spell that had allowed her to surrender. In time she’d be glad of it, and perhaps at last there’d be a key to Ash’s problems.

  Genova thought of something and addressed the young man. “Ask Sheena if someone else is taking care of the nurseries.”

  His question was quick, and Sheena’s reply clearly included Harbinger.

  “You take them to your room,” Genova said to Ash. “I’ll come when I’ve made some sort of explanation to the ruler of the nursery domain. Don’t start until I join you!”

  He looked amused. “A definitely musty tyrant.”

  Genova blushed, but she had a commanding disposition and he might as well know it.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  S he hurried up the plain stairs, having to squeeze her hoops a little, and found Mrs. Harbinger looking for “that girl.” Clearly Sheena was not a perfect servant. Genova simply said that a relative of Sheena’s had arrived and they were allowing a meeting.

  “Very well, Miss Smith, but I’ll not have her loose in the house tonight. She’s clearly not of a careful nature.”

  Genova had to agree. She hurried back down to Ash’s bedchamber, then paused outside the door thinking of what might have been. It would hot have been careful at all, but it hadn’t seemed to matter at the time. She had no right to look down on Sheena’s fall.

  She went in to find Sheena sitting warily in an armchair and the young Irishman standing on guard by her side. He was short and thin, but wiry and well made.

  Ash stood by the fireplace, his eye on them. He indicated the other chair for Genova and she took it, giving Sheena an encouraging smile because the girl was wringing her hands now.

  “Now,” Ash said, “tell us who you are, man, and the whole of this story.”

  The young man glanced at Sheena, then faced them. “M’name’s Lawrence Carr, m’lord. I know Sheena from back in Annaghdown.” Then he raised his chin. “I’m the father of her child, m’lord, and have the right to protect her.”

  The child that died. The poor couple. “Sheena’s safe,” Genova assured him. “She’s only here because her employer appears to have abandoned her.”

  “Lady Booth Carew.” Lawrence almost spat it. “I tracked them across Ireland and almost to London, then realized Sheena wasn’t with her anymore. I’ve been frantic since, but then heard that a lord here was seeking an Irish speaker, and that it was to do with a baby.”

  “Wiser to have presented yourself openly as the translator, wouldn’t you say?” Ash remarked.

  “I don’t trust the big houses! When I found I could get in, I did. I’m not a housebreaker, m’lord. I’m not!”

  He was standing bold, but shaking. It wasn’t surprising. He could end up transported for that.

  “That’s all right,” Genova soothed. “But we need you to ask Sheena about Lady Booth. We need to know why Lady Booth abandoned her and Charlie with us.”

  Lawrence Carr took Sheena’s hand and asked her the questions.

  Sheena looked around almost furtively, or perhaps like a trapped animal, then spilled a stream of Gaelic. There was an exchange that rose rapidly to an argument. Then Sheena burst into tears.

  Genova was ready to shake the English out of the man. “What did she say?”

  Lawrence Carr looked at them, angry and perhaps bewildered. “M’lord, ma’am, I can hardly make sense of it m’self. She tried to tell me our child died, but when I returned to Annaghdown, me own mam told me Sheena’d had a baby, and it was a fine boy. Boxed me ears, she did, for not writing so I’d know.”

  “You didn’t know?” But then it sank in. “Charlie is Sheena’s own baby?”

  Of course, of course. So much made sense now. But some things, many things, still didn’t.

  “And Lady Booth’s plan?” Ash asked, not showing any reaction.

  “She doesn’t know, m’lord. But Lady Booth promised her money if she’d come to England with her baby, and that the boy’d grow up to be a fine lord. The silly biddy to believe such a thing. But it was hard for her with an unwed babe and me being away. I was trying to make money so we could marry, m’lord! I don’t have the writing, and I didn’t want to spend money on someone to write for me when I’d nothing to say.”

  Nothing to say to the girl he’d made love to. How very like a man, and yet Lawrence Carr had been trying to do the right thing, to earn enough to marry his sweetheart.

  “So the baby died,” Ash said to no one in particular, “and Molly found a substitute.”

  “Or,” Genova suggested, “there was never a baby at all.”

  “What?”

  Ash looked dumbfounded. Genova wondered if it took a woman to follow a tangle that deep into the knot. “Mr. Carr, I gather your village is close to Lady Booth Carew’s home?”

  “That it is, ma’am. She was left her husband’s place there, though she takes no care of it.”

  “So ask Sheena, if you please, whether Lady Booth carried and birthed a child there.”

  After an exchange he looked back, but Geneva was already smiling, having understood Sheena’s tone and some gestures.

  “She says not, ma’am. Apparently Lady Booth went about with a growing belly, complaining of her ill-usage, which was a strange thing to everyone, for you’d think she’d want to hide in shame. But her maid laundered her cloths every month, and hung them out to dry.”

  She laughed aloud at that. “Never think anything can be hidden.”

  Ash was shaking his head.

  “Swear if you want,” Genova said, rising and going to his side to speak confidentially.

  He laughed at that as he had once before.

  “It should have occurred to me,” he said. “She’d been married to Carew for eight years without sign. But she risked her reputation.”

  “Or used it to try to force you. I suppose if you’d married her, she would have conveniently miscarried and hoped to truly quicken soon.”

  “Optimistic, given her history, and it would assume I could bring myself to…swive her.” He smiled as he chose that word.

  “Not necessarily,” Genova pointed out.

  “Zeus,” he said. “She might not have cared. She’d have had what she wanted, a marchioness’s coronet.”

  “And worn it in a cage with a wolf.”

  He raised a brow but seemed to catch her meaning. “I might well be tempted to bite in that situation, yes.”

  “But why the end play?” Genova asked. “Did she think evidence of a baby would change your mind at such a late date? He was born out of wedlock, so he could never be your heir.”

  Ash shook his head. “Impossible to understand a mind like hers. Perhaps she hoped that proof would crush me with guilt. Or that it might cause the king to insist I marry only her. I expect word of the king’s ultimatum prompted her one last attack. We were to be found together, and the Brokesbys were to carry the tale around England.�
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  “Then why flee at the last minute? I hate the pieces not fitting!”

  “Like clockwork,” he said with a look. “I’d like to think that she realized I’d throttle her, but we’ll probably never know.”

  Genova smiled at him. “You’d never have touched her, Ash.”

  “No? I think you’re deluded about my character.”

  “Am I? I don’t forget that she left the baby for ‘Mr. Dash.’”

  “So?”

  “There would have been no point unless she knew that you wouldn’t be able to abandon him.”

  He took out his snuffbox, a mother-of-pearl and diamond one, and flipped it open. She was beginning to recognize a defensive move. “If you remember, I did my best to run.”

  “Because I was there, and you thought then that I was Molly’s deputy.”

  “I tried to put him on the parish.”

  “And planned to leave money for his care. Despite what you said, I know you would have arranged to be informed about his welfare.”

  He inhaled a tiny amount. “You are often given to delusions? I am not known as a Good Samaritan.”

  “Let’s put it to the test. What are we to do with these two?” She nodded toward Sheena arid Lawrence, who were holding tight to each other’s hands and waiting to hear their fate.

  “Put them on the parish,” Ash said, snapping his box shut.

  She looked at him, and he added, lips twitching, “We could run away and leave them on Rothgar’s hands.”

  Then he smiled in acknowledgment that he’d do neither. “Relentless,” he said. “I suppose we should inform my cousin of these developments under his roof, though I look a fool.”

  “It would take a devious mind to see through this one.”

  “Are you saying I’m not devious?”

  He seemed truly affronted, and she couldn’t help but laugh. His smile became a grin and she knew it was sinking in that this finally cleared him.

  It would take deft handling to smooth things with the king, but Ash’s way was clear to what he wanted. He would finally take up his full position as Marquess of Ashart, and do it well.

  He tugged the bellpull. “I need to have this arrangement installed at Cheynings. It spares us from servants hovering within earshot all the time.”

  “It takes longer to get service,” she pointed out.

  “You like the old ways?”

  “I think a man short of money shouldn’t be considering expensive renovations.”

  “Genova, sweetheart, don’t nag.”

  A footman arrived and duly went off to find the marquess. They waited in silence, then. The Irish couple, relaxing, leaned close and murmured. Sheena began to smile and dabbed her eyes with her apron. Genova guessed they were beginning to plan their future, and longed to be doing the same thing.

  Perhaps if she and Ash had made love, it would have changed his mind. But she’d never take that route to marriage.

  When Rothgar came in, he looked around the room. “What have we here?”

  In an attempt at a cool manner, Ash gestured to the Irish couple. “Mr. Lawrence Carr and Miss Sheena O’Leary, lovers, parents, now happily united. I thought it best to inform you.”

  “Parents?”

  “Parents of the baby we arrived with. Charlie Carr, I assume we should call him now.” Ash told the story.

  “So Molly Carew was never with child. I felicitate you, Cousin.”

  Ash inclined his head. “It seems best to let the lad stay. In the stables with the grooms, perhaps?”

  “We could build a bower in the hall and have a living presepe.” But Rothgar was teasing. “Of course he may stay. Perhaps Mr. Carr might like to see his son before he leaves the house?”

  Lawrence Carr bowed, touching his forelock. “Indeed I would, milord.”

  Rothgar turned to Genova. “Perhaps you could bring the infant down, Miss Smith. Mrs. Harbinger dislikes strangers in her domain, and Miss O’Leary looks a little unsteady still.”

  In fact, Sheena did not look deliriously happy. She was clinging to her lover’s hand, but she looked as if the blow was yet to fall. Was there more to tell?

  Genova hurried to the nurseries, wondering if Mrs. Harbinger would welcome Charlie back when she knew he was Sheena’s own child.

  When Genova told the nursery governess the gist of the story, however, Mrs. Harbinger nodded. “I had begun to suspect as much, Miss Smith, and was in something of a puzzle over what to do about it. Strange goings-on.”

  She led Genova into the nursery where only one cradle remained, and scooped out the sleeping baby. She wrapped him in an extra blanket and passed him over. Genova carried him away, thinking she knew Sheena’s concern. Life in her village was probably simple and poor, and having tasted better, she might want better for her child.

  Genova navigated the stairs with care, since a baby and hooped skirts was a challenge. Distant music told that the Christmas revelry continued—a celebration all to do with a baby. Charlie stirred, his mouth working for a moment.

  “Don’t cry for food yet,” Genova told him. “Especially since Lord Rothgar might still be there.”

  He settled, and she hummed the presepe song to keep him happy. She entered the room to find Ash alone with Sheena and Lawrence in a tense silence.

  It broke as soon as Genova gave the baby to Sheena. Lawrence’s open delight, the eagerness with which he took Charlie into his arms, eased some of Genova’s concerns. But the story wouldn’t end until they were comfortably settled somewhere.

  Rothgar returned with a servant who was to take Lawrence to the grooms’ area above the stables. As soon as he started to leave, Sheena clung to him, crying.

  Genova had Lawrence explain to the girl. Sheena reluctantly let him go and left to return to the nurseries, but as if tragedy weighed on her head.

  “I feel like a Capulet or Montague,” Ash said. “I hope you’ve locked away the poison, Rothgar.”

  “This abbey is clear of meddling monks, at least. What will you do now?”

  Ash moved around the room, pausing at the table holding decanters. “May I offer you some of your own brandy?”

  Rothgar smiled and declined.

  “It would be useful to find Molly and confront her with her sins, but perhaps cruel to make her confess them in public.”

  “You’re more compassionate than I am,” Rothgar said. “May I be of service in presenting this evidence to the king? I believe he would find this tale of Irish lovers interesting, perhaps even touching, if told aright. He could be persuaded that he has been less than just. It would be wise to marry, though. Kings hate to have it obvious that they have changed their mind.”

  Genova looked at her meaningless ring. She told herself that she didn’t want Ash to marry her only because a rapid wedding would suit. Anyway, Damaris Myddleton would snap him up.

  “It is time I married,” Ash said, “though I doubt anything will convince the king that I’m a saint.”

  “He’s pragmatic enough to realize that if he surrounds himself only with saints he will wander empty rooms, and lack some excellent advisers. His Majesty does persist, however, in believing that marriage can save a sinner. Have you read my mother’s papers?”

  Genova looked up and saw the cousins assessing each other.

  “I haven’t read all of the journal, but it doesn’t paint a picture of cruelty.”

  “No, and I can pledge my conviction that my father was incapable of it. Perhaps he came to find her trying, however, so he may not have been a perfect husband.”

  “I found her trying and I was only reading her daily grievances.”

  Genova stood still, hardly breathing, not wanting to break this crucial dialogue.

  Ash looked into the fire, then up. “Was she mad?”

  “In the end, certainly. Whatever led her to believe that Edith must die cannot have been sane. Earlier?” Rothgar shrugged. “We all walk an edge between sanity and insanity and can be pushed over by a powerful enough
force.”

  Another edge, Genova thought.

  “Some require very little pressure,” Rothgar said. “I think you will have seen that she was unstable.”

  Ash turned to fully face his cousin. “Rumor said you would not marry because of the madness in your blood.”

  “We all walk that edge,” Rothgar repeated. “I came to understand that I was my father’s son as well as my mother’s, that I had kept my balance through trying times, and that the factors forming future generations cannot be predicted. And I had fallen in love.”

  “Love. Are men like you and I allowed to indulge in that degree of insanity?”

  Did Ash glance at her for a moment? Genova’s mouth dried and her heart beat faster.

  “It’s an unjust world if we’re not. Can we cry peace, Cousin?”

  Ash looked into the distance for so long that Genova wanted to speak just to break the silence. Then slowly, he said, “Peace be with you, and upon your house be peace.”

  Genova tried to not even breathe as the cousins shook hands and gave each other the kiss of peace.

  As they stepped apart, Ash said, “I would like to take the journal and some drawings to show to our grandmother.”

  Rothgar stilled. “I would prefer that they not be destroyed.”

  “I give you my word that they will return here safely.”

  “Then perhaps we could agree to an exchange of documents.”

  “For some that you would wish destroyed?” Ash asked, and Genova knew that was of great moment.

  “Precisely. We have no more need of weapons, I think.”

  “Nor of defense, I hope. Very well. I will arrange to have them delivered to you. Or perhaps you would trust me to destroy them and the supporting evidence. I will be thorough.”

  Now it was Rothgar who hesitated, but then he bowed. “My thanks. Now, excuse me but I should return to my guests.”

  He left the room and Genova exhaled.

  “What was that about?” she asked.

  Ash had turned to look into the fire. “The documents? I hold some work of his that in the right hands could destroy him.”

  She’d shared a more perilous edge than she’d known. “You would have used them?”