Scoundrel (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 4)

by Cheryl Holt

  “Please don’t. It would embarrass me if he found out we were gossiping about him behind his back.”

  “I wouldn’t call it gossiping. I’d say we’re simply worried about the future.”

  Alice gazed at Faith and sighed. “If only…”

  “If only…what?” Faith inquired when Alice didn’t finish her sentence.

  “If only you could marry Lambert.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, he’s always been so fond of you, and you’re exactly the type of person he needs. You’re so different from me. You’d be perfect.”

  “I have no idea why you’d think so.”

  “Just the other day he was talking about how he regretted that he didn’t wed you all those years ago, how your father had wanted it so much.”

  Faith couldn’t believe that Lambert was interested in her, but then Lambert was very vain. His ego probably hadn’t recovered from her rejecting him.

  “He still regrets it?” Faith asked. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, and my goodness, Faith. Wouldn’t it gall you to have him pick another woman, to bring her here and install her in your mother’s rooms? Wouldn’t that be horrid?”

  “Yes, it would be.”

  “You’d have to leave Heron Hall! We’d both have to leave! What about my girls? I realize you don’t know them very well, but they’re your sisters. What will become of them?”

  Faith yearned to tell Alice that everything would be fine, that it would work out for the best.

  Lambert wasn’t cruel, but a new bride would have no prior ties to Heron Hall, wouldn’t bother herself over Faith or Alice. A new bride might invite her own relatives into the house, might declare there was no space for Faith and Alice and her daughters. In that sort of quarrel, where would Lambert’s loyalties land?

  Faith didn’t have to answer that question—because the answer was obvious. Faith and Alice would be disavowed.

  Not for the first time, Faith cursed Chase Hubbard. If he’d wed her, if he’d craved the same future she’d craved, she’d have been in London, and Alice’s dilemma wouldn’t matter. Now Alice’s dilemma was Faith’s dilemma.

  Alice was barely an adult and had no ability to act in a mature way. She could never manage her own affairs. Since she couldn’t take care of herself, she certainly couldn’t take care of her daughters, and it was gradually dawning on Faith that her little half-sisters were suddenly her burden rather than Alice’s.

  Faith would have to be the one to ensure their security. How would she accomplish it?

  “Lambert would be a wonderful husband,” Alice said. “I wish I was a suitable fiancée for him.”

  So do I, Faith mused. “We’ll figure out a solution. I’ll discuss it with him.” When it appeared Alice would protest, she quickly added, “Not about you or your concerns. I’m simply eager to learn his opinion on these issues.”

  “And just think, Faith, if you wed him, it will keep the property in the family. You’d be mistress of Heron Hall—as your mother was mistress. I wasn’t able to replace her, but I’m betting you could.”

  “It had to be hard to fill her shoes.”

  “It was for me, but you’d be marvelous at it.” Alice stood and pulled Faith to her feet. “I’m weary of this depressing subject. Let’s visit your sisters so you can see how much they’ve grown.”

  “Are they here?”

  “Yes, with their nurse.”

  Faith suffered a painful memory of her own childhood and being reared by nannies and governesses. Clearly it was lucky she’d come home. She would do all in her power to guarantee they were raised differently than she had been.

  “They’re with their nurse?” Faith asked. “Why aren’t they with you?”

  “With me?”

  “Yes. I hate to have them foisted off on the servants.”

  Alice frowned. “Surely you don’t expect me to watch them. Honestly, Faith, I’m in mourning.”

  “Yes, you are, Alice. I understand.”

  They walked to the stairs and climbed to the nursery. With each step, Faith felt as if a noose was circling her neck, being yanked tighter, drawing her in to prevent any escape. How would she ever leave?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Chase rode his horse directly up to the front of the convent. At least he assumed it was the Sisters of Mercy convent. It wasn’t as if there was a bloody sign to tell a fellow where he was.

  He dismounted and gaped up at the thick gray walls. The building appeared forbidding and sinister as if people had been locked in and starved to death. He was sure ghosts walked the halls.

  He couldn’t believe this was where Faith had lived for eight years. How had she tolerated the dismal place? He understood that nuns kept themselves apart from the general population, but he hadn’t expected an edifice that might have been a prison or insane asylum.

  There was a main gate that was big enough to drive a coach through, but it was tightly closed. There was a wooden window in the center, closed too. How did a person summon those on the inside?

  He pondered the situation, searching for a bell or some other way to create a noise and alert the occupants that someone needed assistance. Finally he simply went over to the gate and pounded on it.

  Of course there was no answer. He hollered and pounded repeatedly, and just as he was ready to give up the window was opened and a woman asked, “Yes? May I help you?”

  She was a nun, wearing black clothes, her hair covered. He peered in and could see a bricked courtyard, a small tree behind her, and possibly a well for drawing water.

  “Hello, Sister, I’m Chase Hubbard.”

  “Hello, Mr. Hubbard.”

  “I’ve traveled from London to speak with a novitiate. Faithful Newton? Might she be available?”

  “We don’t allow our members to speak with outsiders, Mr. Hubbard.”

  “It’s very important, and I’ve journeyed a great distance. Could you make an exception?”

  “Is it an emergency?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “May I inquire as to what sort of emergency?”

  He was certain if he admitted he wanted to propose marriage, the window would be slammed in his face.

  “It’s her family,” he lied. “I bring dire tidings.”

  “Wait here. I’ll have to talk to Mother Superior about it.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “It may take me a few minutes to locate her. Please be patient.”

  The window was shut with a brisk snap, and he was left in the quiet, which he hated. He was in the country, surrounded by thick forest, and there were no houses, fences, or other signs of civilization.

  He’d spent his life in the city with its crowds and noise and commotion. The deserted rural lanes and empty fields disturbed him very much. The villa in Africa was the only occasion he’d enjoyed solitude, but that had been a fantasy and had no bearing on reality. So he was definitely questioning his current circumstance.

  Was he mad to proceed? He was about to find himself precisely where he’d never hoped to be—that being on his knees and begging a woman to wed him. If she said yes, he’d have to give up his bachelor days and don a leg-shackle. As a husband, no doubt he’d be driven insane before the first month was out. Or maybe his wife was the one who’d be driven insane.

  Poor Faith! If he could convince her to have him, she’d wind up getting exactly what she wanted. Then they’d learn if she’d be happy.

  The mysterious man who’d tracked him down in London was Mr. Digby, law clerk to a posh solicitor, Mr. Thumberton. Thumberton served the richest, most exalted families. They’d been executing probate on an estate named Oakhurst when they’d discovered it belonged to Chase. It had always belonged to Chase.

  When his father had died, some of Chase’s French relatives had just fled France with the guillotine nipping at their heels. They’d seized the property for their own, but had never informed Chase of the bequest. The last of the miserable bunch had finally passed away.
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  Chase still couldn’t believe what had happened. All the years he’d been a penniless orphan in boarding school, all the years he’d struggled financially as an adolescent, then an adult, he’d owned a bloody farm. It came complete with a large house, a dowager house, an agent’s cottage, barns and equipment and animals and all the rest.

  He’d often cursed his parents, had exhaustively conjectured as to why his father had forsaken him. Yes, the man had lost much during the Revolution, but he’d established himself in England.

  As a little boy, Chase hadn’t seen much of his parents—he’d mostly been cared for by nannies—but when they’d deigned to stay at home, he distinctly remembered them being fond of him. He recalled his father as being very majestic, very imperious. He hadn’t been a slacker who would decline to draft a Will or forget to arrange matters for his two young children.

  And he hadn’t! He’d gifted them both in a very satisfactory manner. Amelia had dowry money in a trust, and it had grown to be a substantial amount. She’d get the money, and Chase would get the farm.

  If he’d been a weepy type, he might have cried over the ending. His father had provided for them! The suffering they’d endured, the hardship, it wasn’t supposed to have occurred!

  He sighed and began pacing, wondering how long it would take the nun to return. In his mind, he was practicing his speech to Faith. He’d been rehearsing it throughout his fast trip to Scotland.

  He’d gone to visit Oakhurst and found it in decrepit condition. His thieving kin had been awful stewards so the fields were fallow, the herds decimated, and there were only a few aging retainers rambling around. But it was Chase’s and since he was suddenly a landowner, there seemed to be but one fitting finale.

  He needed a bride to bring the whole thing to just the right conclusion.

  Why shouldn’t he wed? Gentlemen were constantly falling victim to the marital trap. Why not Chase? It wouldn’t kill him.

  His main worry was that she’d tell him to stuff it. After their quarrel in London, she might never calm enough to listen to his story, but he was a smooth talker and could charm the wood off a log. He’d made Faith love him once, and he was positive he could do it again.

  Just then the window creaked open, and he hurried over, feeling more excited and more anxious than he’d ever been.

  “May I see her?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s not here.”

  He gasped. “She died?”

  “No, no. She left.”

  “She…left? For where?”

  “I have no idea.”

  The window started to close, and he stuck in his hand and pushed it back.

  “Did she go to her father’s?”

  “As I said, Mr. Hubbard, I have no idea.”

  “Find out for me.”

  “I really couldn’t obtain any further information.”

  “Why not?”

  “We’ve removed ourselves from the outside world. It’s no concern of mine why she departed or where she went.”

  “Well, it’s a concern of mine. Why would she leave? Was she sick? Was she unhappy? What?”

  “I’m new to the convent, sir, so I wasn’t acquainted with the lady. I wasn’t privy to any of her details.”

  “This is getting us nowhere.” He poked his head in and shouted, “Hello! Hello! Can anyone hear me? Can you tell me about Faith Newton?”

  “Sir! Please! You’re creating a ruckus. It’s rude.”

  “You haven’t begun to witness rude.”

  He paused and shouted again—over and over—but garnered no reply. The place seemed deserted or perhaps the nuns weren’t allowed out toward the front.

  “May I speak with Sister Rowena?” he asked instead. “Rowena Bond. She’s a novitiate too. She’ll know what’s happened.”

  “I’m sorry, but the novitiates especially aren’t permitted to have contact with visitors.”

  “That’s idiotic.”

  “It’s the rules.”

  Chase leaned into the small opening and yelled, “Rowena! Rowena, are you here?”

  “You are the most uncouth barbarian I’ve ever met,” she complained.

  “You don’t get out much, do you?” he snidely snapped.

  He peered into the courtyard, the bit he could see anyway, but no one strolled by, no one appeared to investigate his bellowing. He stepped back and glared and the minute he did, she slammed the window and locked it.

  He felt impotent and furious and speculated as to whether he shouldn’t ride to town and buy a bloody rope. He’d scale the walls and rush through the snooty property like a berserker until he found Rowena.

  But he wasn’t a madman, and he was fairly confident he knew where Faith was. He was ninety-nine percent certain she’d gone home to her father, and he suffered a moment of genuine panic as he wondered if she was increasing. Was that why she’d left?

  Their final night on the ship, he’d behaved precisely as he shouldn’t. If she was carrying his child, he’d have to make an honest woman of her. She couldn’t refuse him. She needed a husband who’d agree to a quick wedding, and he was definitely available.

  He grinned and mounted his horse.

  * * * *

  Rowena was on her way to Sister Ruth’s apartment when she thought a man murmured her name. Rowena! It drifted by on the breeze, like a ghost walking on her grave, and it was so eerie she figured she was growing deranged from the tedium.

  Briefly she considered sneaking to the front gate to check if a man was actually there, but she didn’t dare. If it had been Ralston, she’d have risked it in an instant. But it hadn’t sounded like him, and if she was observed in the courtyard, she’d be punished with a day of bread and water. She already had to eat the meager meal twice a week, and she wouldn’t deliberately bring on a third day.

  She continued on to her appointment with Sister Ruth. She never referred to her as Mother Superior. The malicious witch didn’t deserve the title of mother. Rowena called her Ruth when she called her anything at all.

  She was working in the kitchen where she occasionally was able to speak with deliverymen. One young fellow was a conspirator and mailed Rowena’s letter to Ralston. So far there had been no response. It hadn’t been that long since she’d sent it though so she wasn’t anxious over the delay. He’d come for her. She was absolutely convinced he would.

  She arrived at Ruth’s door, and one of Ruth’s cohorts was sitting there. She could have been Ruth’s twin: older, pious, cranky. Rowena pondered, as she often did, why a person would want to be so miserable.

  “Sister Ruth summoned me,” Rowena said.

  “I believe you mean Mother Superior.”

  “Pardon my mistake,” Rowena sarcastically retorted.

  The woman knocked, then gestured for Rowena to enter. Rowena smiled sweetly, hoping the smile concealed her dislike and disdain, but she doubted it would.

  Everyone was aware of how she loathed her situation, but there were rumors her parents had paid a second donation—a second bribe—to keep her even more securely imprisoned. They must have been worried she’d run away and show up on their stoop.

  As if she’d ever return to her parents! They were insane to think so.

  Ruth was at her desk trying to look busy and officious, but Rowena wasn’t impressed. She strolled over, pulled up a chair, and slouched into it.

  “You asked to see me?”

  “Yes. I have a chore for you.”

  “I’m at your service. What do you need?”

  “You’ve been in charge of Mary, Martha, and Millicent Mackenzie.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Bathe them and have their dresses washed tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “They have visitors tomorrow.”

  “Their uncles are here from India?”

  “No. They’re being put up for adoption.”

  Rowena gasped. “What?”

  “They’re being
adopted. I’ve found a family willing to take all three so they won’t be split up. It was a tricky negotiation, but I deemed it best for them to stay together.”

  “Adoption! Who authorized it?”

  “I did. We’re no longer keeping children on the premises so they can’t remain.”

  “What about their uncles?”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re the girls’ kin. You have to write to them.”

  “First of all, Rowena, I have no idea where they’re located. If they’re still in India, how would I find them? And second of all, it would likely be two years before we received a reply. It’s impossible.”

  “It is not!” Rowena fumed.

  “It is!” Ruth countered.

  Rowena was so angry she nearly leapt across the desk and pummeled Ruth. Ever since Rowena had returned, the place had gone to Hell in a hand basket. People spied on each other and told tales. They were punished and chastised. Meals were cut, jobs revoked, positions terminated.

  Rowena had believed she hated it prior to traveling to Rome, but she hadn’t grasped how bad things could truly become. But to harm three little girls! To simply dump them off as if they were puppies!

  She was certain Ruth would have conducted no research on the family. What if the girls were worked to death? Or starved? Or beaten?

  “Why be so cruel to them?” Rowena asked. “They’re quiet and well-behaved, and they’ve been no trouble.”

  “Again, Sister Rowena, we’re not keeping children.”

  “It’s always been part of our mission.”

  “It’s not any longer.”

  “According to who? I demand a vote on it. The girls have no mother so I’m as much their mother as anyone, and I won’t permit you to give them away.”

  “I’m not giving them away. We’ll earn a pretty penny from the arrangement.”

  “You’re selling them?”

  “Not selling them,” Ruth scoffed. “We’re being reimbursed for the expenses we’ve incurred.”

  “Oh yes, they’ve eaten us out of house and home.”

  “Don’t be smart, Rowena.”

  “You can’t do this. I won’t let you.”

  “It’s not up to you.” Ruth nodded to the door. “That will be all. Be sure they’re ready at ten o’clock tomorrow.”