Valor of Love (Scandalous Scions Book 2)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “You are here for Lord Marblethorpe?” Thomsett prompted, when the smiling man did not immediately announce himself.

  The man held up his gloved finger. “I rather think I am here to see you…if my guess is right.” He spoke with a heavy accent that sounded German.

  “Me?” Thomsett gripped the door handle. “Do I know you?”

  “Oh dear, of course you do not.” The man’s smile broadened. “You are Jasper Anson Dominik Thomsett, yes?”

  Thomsett grew wary. “That is me,” he agreed slowly.

  “Your mother was Victoria Thomsett, of Yorkshire.”

  Thomsett drew in a breath. He let it out again. “Yes,” he said heavily.

  “This sounds rather official,” Raymond said, from behind.

  Thomsett whirled. “I’m sorry, my lord. I had no idea the visitor was for me, or I would have had him come to the staff entrance—”

  “I have stepped on toes, no?” the man on the doorstep said, sounding both jolly and worried at the same time.

  “Your guest doesn’t look the type to linger around back doors, Thomsett. You’d better bring him into the library. Let’s not sort out your personal affairs on the front doorstep for the world to see.”

  “Yes, of course, my lord,” Thomsett said. The oddities of the Great Family never ceased to surprise him. Now Raymond was putting his library at Thomsett’s disposal. True, it was to get the visitor off the street, yet he could have easily told Thomsett to take the matter elsewhere.

  Thomsett opened the door wider. “Come in,” he told the gentleman.

  The man gestured to the lad in the cab. The young man scrambled to the footpath and raised up on his toes to pay the cabbie, while holding the heavy satchel in his other hand. He hurried up the steps and moved inside with the gray-haired man.

  They both rid themselves of their hats and gloves. The elder gentleman hung onto his cane and used it to walk into the library.

  Raymond was standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed.

  Thomsett shut the door. There was no need to impose his affairs upon the rest of the family.

  The gentleman cleared his throat. “I am Herr Aldous Baumgärtner,” he said. “For nearly fifty years I have been private secretary to the Archduke Erherd of Silkeborg.”

  “Where is Silkeborg?” Raymond asked, frowning.

  “Denmark,” Thomsett said. It came out sounding strained. His heart was running hard. “Baumgärtner, this is The Right Honorable The Viscount Marblethorpe.”

  Baumgärtner turned to face Raymond squarely. He clicked his heels together and bowed his head. It was a gracious gesture.

  Raymond nodded back. “You were taking pains to ensure you were speaking to the right man, Baumgärtner. What is this about?”

  “I imagine it is about my father,” Thomsett said tiredly. Finally, the day had come.

  “Indeed,” Baumgärtner replied. He gestured to the young man and pointed to the desk. “May I?” he asked Raymond. “There are many papers.”

  “Of course.” Raymond stepped out of the way.

  The man put the satchel on the desk and unbuckled it.

  “He’s dead, isn’t he?” Thomsett said, as the mass of rolled and tied papers spilled out upon it.

  “Alas, yes,” Baumgärtner replied. “Two months ago. I am most sorry, Herr Thomsett. For myself, I mourn him. Although I know you never met him.”

  “I saw a daguerreotype, once,” Thomsett murmured. His mother had kept it by her bed until she had died.

  “Wait, wait,” Raymond said. “The Archduke is your father?”

  The young man picked through the rolls of paper, then plucked one from the pile and put it aside. He stuffed the rest into the satchel, then held out the roll to Baumgärtner.

  Thomsett stared at the roll, the tightness in his chest increasing.

  Baumgärtner smiled at Raymond. “An illegitimate son, my lord. You know how these things go, especially among the upper ranks. His Grace was always fond of Miss Thomsett. More than that. He took care of her needs and his son’s needs, always. I was assigned to ensure that they wanted for nothing.”

  “And we didn’t,” Thomsett said. His voice was still strained. “However, money does not buy legitimacy.”

  “It never has,” Raymond said softly. “You and Rhys Davies should have a chat one day, Thomsett.” He looked at Baumgärtner and waited.

  Baumgärtner held the roll of paper toward Thomsett. It was sealed and tied with red ribbon. “Your father, the Archduke, was by law required to pass on his entailed assets to his heirs. It fretted him, toward the end, that he could not formally recognize the role your mother played in his life. I found the solution.” He gestured with the roll, indicating that Thomsett should take it.

  Thomsett kept his hands by his sides.

  “There is a property in Yorkshire, that your father wished you to have,” Baumgärtner said. “It is unentailed, which means it is free of obligations except those he added to his will in the last month, when he made this adjustment.”

  Raymond’s hand rested on Thomsett’s shoulder for a moment. “We should halt this conversation at this point and ask Rhys to come over. He should hear this.”

  “This Rhys…he is a solicitor?” Baumgärtner asked.

  “One of the best in the country,” Raymond replied. “He is also my brother-in-law.”

  Baumgärtner shook his head. “There is no need for lawyers and legal considerations. This is a simple matter. I am here merely to execute the will of my employer. He wished for his son, the child he never met, yet acknowledged as much as he was able, to be provided for after he was gone. This is the means by which he will do that.”

  Thomsett drew in a sharp breath. “How big is the property?” he demanded.

  “Some several thousand acres,” Baumgärtner said. He lifted the roll again. “It is all in here. There are nearly thirty tenant farmers. The income will support a man and his family, I’m led to understand—although the British Sterling value eludes me. Your lord may be better able to advise you on that.”

  “Tenant farmers?” Raymond repeated. He sounded stunned. “You’d be the lord of the estate, Thomsett,” he added.

  The band of constriction around Thomsett’s chest tightened. “What were the conditions?” he asked Baumgärtner. His lips moved oddly, as if they were not his.

  “Ah, as to that…” Baumgärtner put the roll of paper back on the desk and stepped back. “The reason why I suggested this property to your father is because it is in England. You are British born and raised. You understand the common Englishman.” Baumgärtner pressed his lips into a pout, that only someone from the continent could manage without looking silly. “There are border disputes and some aggravation amongst the tenant farmers that need to be resolved. The disputes go back several generations, so it will not be easy to settle. Better to have another Englishman attempt to sort it out than a foreigner who doesn’t appreciate the subtleties of how they think.”

  “Disputes,” Thomsett repeated. “I do know the average Yorkshireman. If the disputes have been handed down from their grandfathers, then I imagine they are hot enough about it to come to violence over their objections.”

  Baumgärtner nodded enthusiastically. “I was right. You do understand these matters. Yes, there has been some unnecessary bloodshed. Slaughter of cows in the night. The burning of barns. Once, a brawl that involved dozens of families. The issues vexed my Duke. He could not see a way to fix matters, not when he was across the water in Denmark. You, with your military experience and training, you would be able to bring these men to heel.” Baumgärtner gave Thomsett a warm smile. “It would not be an easy possession, but it would be a worthy one.”

  “Your children would be members of the upper class, Thomsett,” Raymond said. “This is no small gift your father has left you.”

  Baumgärtner’s smile was sad.

  Thomsett rubbed his temples. “I must think about this.”

  “What is there to think
about?” Baumgärtner asked, his voice sharp with surprise. “The matter is done. The property is yours.”

  “Not until I sign that deed you were just waving at me. That is what that paper is, yes?” Thomsett asked.

  “Yes, but…this is what your father wanted.”

  Raymond cleared his throat. “It might be what the Archduke wanted,” he said, “yet Thomsett is free to accept the bequeath…or not.”

  For the first time, Baumgärtner looked something other than happy. He scowled. “This is most peculiar,” he declared.

  “I need time,” Thomsett said, trying to explain what he didn’t fully understand himself, yet.

  “Perhaps you should return tomorrow,” Raymond suggested. “A little later than today. We can settle the matter then. Will that be enough time for you, Thomsett?” he added.

  Startled that Raymond was consulting him, Thomsett nodded.

  “Very well then,” Baumgärtner said, straightening himself up. He gave the same stiff bow as before. “I will see you tomorrow.”

  Thomsett followed the two men out to the front door. He handed them their hats and gloves, his thoughts churning.

  Baumgärtner gave him a stiff smile. “The Archduke had only the best intentions,” he said softly.

  “I know,” Thomsett said. “I do not feel slighted. It isn’t that.”

  “Then I leave you to your thoughts, Herr Thomsett.”

  Thomsett closed the door after the pair.

  Raymond was standing at the door to the library. He beckoned Thomsett in. “Shut the door again,” he told him.

  Thomsett sighed and shut the door.

  Raymond was sitting on the edge of the desk, the way he did when he was relaxed and only in the company of family. “Now I understand a great deal more about you, Thomsett.”

  Thomsett tried to smile. “I had all but forgotten who my father was. A bastard son must get along in the world by himself. His father’s name means little when he cannot legally claim it, no matter how grand.”

  “Oh, I know how it goes. You at least were acknowledged and supported. Rhys did not have that luxury.”

  “I did not know that, my lord. He has done well for himself, then.”

  “He has.” Raymond crossed his arms. “Why are you reluctant to take the property? It would set you and your heirs up forever.”

  Heirs.

  Thomsett cleared his throat. “It would,” he admitted.

  Raymond moved over to the small table and picked up the brandy decanter. “You sound in need of a stiff drink,” he said. He poured two glasses. He handed one to Thomsett.

  “Thank you, my lord. The fact is, I believe I am no longer the man who could take on such a challenge as feuding Yorkshiremen. If I ever was, that man has gone now. Fighting, disputes, conflict…it affects me.” He made himself meet Raymond’s gaze. “As you know.” He lifted the heavy glass and drank deeply.

  The brandy burned on the way down, then sat in his chest and warmed him. He put the glass aside, unfinished. The one mouthful had done its job.

  “Not even to gain a situation that would change your life, Thomsett?”

  Thomsett shook his head. “This illness is not by choice, my lord. I know my limits and they fall short of arbitrating a generations-old, bitter feud.”

  Raymond drained his glass and put it aside. He picked up the deed and held it out. “At least think about it,” he urged. “Read through the deed. Perhaps talk to Rhys. I can have him over here inside the hour, if you wish. Take advice and think, before you reject the offer.”

  Thomsett held back his first, instinctive response. “I will, my lord. Thank you,” he said instead. He took the deed reluctantly.

  Both of them jumped when someone thumped on the front door, making it rattle hard enough to be heard in the library.

  Chapter Eight

  Breakfast was nearly over by the time Lilly sat in her usual place at the table. Vaughn rose to his feet as she arrived. “In and out,” he told her. “I have early appointments in the city.” He bent and kissed Elisa’s cheek. “I will be late, my dear. Don’t worry.”

  She patted his cheek, her smile warm. “You can apologize later,” she said softly.

  Lilly hid her smile and pretended, as every other adult in the room was, that she had not heard and understood the inference.

  The two girls, Blanche and Emma, chattered on about an owl they had heard in the night, oblivious.

  Elisa finished her tea and put it aside. “Lilly, you are looking pale again. You are not getting nearly enough exercise.”

  That was quite true, only there was a reason for it. “I am quite well,” Lilly assured her, although she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Her stomach was uneasy. She wanted to be alone to consider everything Thomsett had said to her and the vast roomfuls of understanding and speculation the conversation had opened up for her.

  To know she was not alone in this strange illness was at the least vastly comforting.

  “Nevertheless,” Elisa said, “I think you should accompany me to the park this morning. A round of the park and some fresh air will put the roses back in your cheeks.”

  “Thank you for the offer, Elisa, but—”

  “But your mother put you in my charge. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not concern myself about your wellbeing. I insist, Lilly.”

  Lilly squeezed the napkin on her knee. “Then I will come,” she said reluctantly.

  “Good. And see? The day is clearing up. Paulson was convinced it would last all day. Weren’t you, Paulson?”

  “It appears I was wrong about the weather, my lady,” Paulson said calmly. His voice wavered and Lilly noticed that the first Footman, Giles, was doing most of the lifting and pouring for him, deftly making it look as though Paulson was doing all the directing.

  Elisa got to her feet. “Come along, Lilly. Paulson, could you ask Jones to bring me my velvet coat? The sun is out, yet it still looks like a cool day. Lilly, you should fetch a coat, too.”

  Lilly ran upstairs. On the way up, she saw Elisa’s maid and told her which coat Elisa had asked for. Lilly took out her one and only light coat and went back down to the front door as she fastened the buttons and arranged the peplum over her skirt.

  Jones, the maid, was helping Elisa into her coat when Lilly got there. Paulson was rather slower to reach the front door and Lilly opened it herself and stood back to let Elisa out. Then she followed.

  Elisa smiled at Lilly when they reached the pavement. “You mustn’t mind my mothering ways, my dear. I’ve been doing it for many years now.” She turned and set a brisk pace down the footpath, heading for the park.

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” Lilly assured her. She had to speak up, for the traffic on the street was considerably heavier since she had walked this way with Thomsett. The ton was out and about for the day. The clop of horses and the hiss of carriage wheels on the cobblestones was constant.

  There were not as many pedestrians as there might have been. It was early, yet. Many of those who liked to be seen in the Park arrived there by carriage and often stayed in their carriages, while the drivers slowly perambulated along Rotten Row. The elder matrons of society would halt their carriages and beckon walkers to their door to exchange gossip and news.

  Elisa, though, was far more active when partaking of exercise.

  The footpath was quite narrow here, which crowded the two of them up against the brick wall of the house they were passing. Lilly took care to not brush too heavily against the brick and tear her coat sleeve or skirt.

  A hand slapped over her mouth and an arm crooked itself around her waist, enclosing her arms inside its circle. She was pulled her backward.

  Lilly screamed. The sound was muffled by the hand. It was enough, though, to make Elisa spin on her heels, her eyes widening.

  Whoever it was who had snatched her was male. His body was heavy against hers and strong. She struggled. He was moving backward, undeterred by her writhing.

  Elisa picked up her
skirt and hurried toward them.

  “Stay put, lady, if yer know what’s good for yer.” The growl was thick.

  Lilly felt herself being lifted up. She saw the sides of a coach from the corner of her eyes and struggled even harder. She kicked backward and felt her heel connect with something.

  A heavy hiss of pain sounded, then she was tossed backward.

  She landed heavily on the floor of the carriage, only to be picked up again, this time by bigger hands. She was hauled up and placed upon the front bench. She heard the carriage door click shut. Instantly, the early morning light dimmed. The carriage had its blinds drawn. As she drew herself upright, the carriage rattled forward.

  Outside, Lilly could hear Elisa calling. She sounded terrified.

  Lilly’s belly lurched.

  She looked at the man who had rammed her upon the seat with such strength. The sharp chin and muddy brown eyes had not changed. The high forehead and rising hairline were unmarred by the years. The flesh that she had always found sickly pale to her eyes was now tanned, for he had been living in India until only a few weeks ago.

  Alban Thorburn. Marquess of Blackawton, now.

  “Lovely Lady Lilly,” he crooned, running his finger along her jaw. “You’ve changed since I saw you last.”

  Sickness gripped her, making her throat ache and her heart to beat so hard it hurt. Noise beat at her ears.

  Blackawton glanced at the opposite bench. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded.

  The man sitting there was bald, short and solid with muscle. His clothes were rough. Workers’ clothes. He was rubbing his shin. “She kicked me.”

  Blackawton made a soft sound and rolled his eyes. He turned back to Lilly. “I am vexed, Lilly. I have been back in England for nearly a month and you did not call to see me. Instead you have forced me to this extremity.”

  Fright tore through her. She stared at him, wondering if she had heard aright. “See you?” she repeated.

  “Naturally.”

  She focused on his crooked teeth. In the middle of the night, when the memories wouldn’t leave her alone, that was all she had been able to see in her mind—his crooked teeth. She would hear him breathing heavily over the top of her and remember how he had grunted his satisfaction.