She moved to the bed and sat on the edge. How tempted she had been to accept Thorn’s offer. But she knew that happiness bought at the cost of one’s honor was not worth the price—no, she could not do that.
Thorn did not love her at all. He was determined to make her first his mistress, and then when he could not have her that way, his wife.
No, she would never marry him. In fact, she had to get away from him as quickly as possible!
Chapter Twenty-two
Even though rain had fallen during the night, it had done little to ease the heat.
Brittany sat on the lemon-yellow couch in the front parlor, hoping to catch the morning breeze from the open bay window.
She clutched an unopened letter she had just received from Philadelphia. It was not from her grandmother, as she had hoped, but from a solicitor named David Morgan. There was a tightness in her throat as she glanced up at Achmed, her eyes filled with uncertainty.
“Do you not think you should read the words, little mistress?”
Her hands trembled as she opened the letter. She stared at the bold handwriting, then she scanned the page and began reading aloud:
“Dear Miss Sinclair,
I am writing in reference to your letter in which you state that you are the granddaughter of Doris Sinclair, and I regret to inform you that she has been deceased for seven years. Her holdings, which included a house, lands, warehouse, and silversmith shop went to her nephew, Stanley Sinclair. If you feel you have a legitimate claim to any part of Doris Sinclair’s property, I would advise that you come to Philadelphia post haste and put forth your claim. Until such time as I hear from you again, I remain, your servant.”
Brittany placed the letter on the low table in front of her. She tried to feel something for the grandmother that she had never known, but how could she love a faceless woman who had never touched her life in any way, and who had been dead for seven years?
She glanced into Achmed’s dark, compassionate eyes. “What shall we do?”
“You do not wish to go to Philadelphia?”
“No. If my grandmother is dead, and I have no reason to doubt that she is, there will be nothing for me in Philadelphia, Achmed.”
“But the man who wrote the letter has asked if you want to claim your inheritance.”
“My grandmother’s nephew is more entitled to her holdings than I. She was nothing to me while she was alive, so I will expect nothing from her in death.”
Achmed leaned against the fireplace, his face reflective. “You cannot return to Constantinople,” he reminded her. “What can you do?”
“I do not know. One thing is certain, though. We cannot remain here at Stonehouse. I refuse to impose on Captain Stoddard for another day.” She met Achmed’s eyes. “Do we have the means to live elsewhere?”
He grinned. “Lord Simijin was most generous with you. There is more than ample gold to see to your needs.”
“Bless Simijin. I do not know what I would have done without him.”
“He is a great man.”
“He is to me. I hope he will one day know how much I love him.”
“He already does, little mistress.” Achmed’s dark eyes took on a troubled light. “What shall we do, mistress? I do not know the customs of this country, and we would not want to do the wrong thing and offend anyone.”
She knitted her brow in thoughtfulness. “I believe we should leave this house today, but we will remain in Charleston until we hear from my mother. Today you must look for lodgings.”
Achmed bowed from the waist. “I must remind you that when we stayed at the inn, it did not work well.”
“I know. This time you will see about buying a small house. Do we have enough gold for that?”
“I believe so.”
“Then that is what you must do.”
“I shall see to it at once, little mistress.”
When Achmed lumbered to the door, her voice stopped him. “Achmed, be careful. I have learned just today that the servants in this house are not servants at all, but slaves. It seems that in America, all black-skinned people are slaves, and they are not allowed the freedom of movement to which you are accustomed. I would not want anything to happen to you.”
“I will be cautious, mistress,” he assured her.
Thorn made his way up the winding stairs to the master bedroom, where the butler had told him he would find his father. When he approached his father’s bedroom, the door across the hall opened, and a smiling Wilhelmina stood there, wearing only a thin nightgown.
“Thorn, I am so glad you are here. I am so worried about your father. Since your visit, his condition has worsened.”
He paused with his hand on the knob. “Are you saying my father is ill?”
“Last night he could not breathe, and he lost consciousness several times. He seems to be in a deep sleep now. Perhaps you shouldn’t awaken him.”
Thorn’s face became grim. “Can I assume you have sent someone for Dr. Maywood?”
“Haven’t you heard—that old man died two years back?” She smiled, all the while moving closer to Thorn, and knowing the light behind her revealed her body through her thin nightgown. “Thorn, you know how stubborn your father can be. He insists he will not tolerate Dr. Cross. What was I to do—go against his wishes?”
“Who in hell is Dr. Cross?”
She toyed with the ribbon at the neck of her nightgown, easing the neck open so the valley between her breasts was visible. “Why, he’s very young, and much more capable than that absentminded old fool Dr. Maywood was.”
Thorn’s eyes were cold. “Perhaps you should get dressed so you can be at the bedside of your sick husband, madame.”
The color drained out of Wilhelmina’s face. “I can assure you that I do not need you to remind me of my duties, Thorn. Where were you all those years when your father needed you to run Stoddard Hill?”
His eyes held a chill. “We both know why I was not here, Wilhelmina, so let there be no pretense between us.”
She whirled around and hurried back to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Now was not the time to confront Thorn. He was suspicious of her, and she would have to be very careful. But she was not concerned. Everyone had their weaknesses—she had found Thorn’s once, she would find it again.
Wilhelmina’s eyes gleamed. Thorn was not the inexperienced youth he had been when he had gone away. He was a man of strength, a man who would sweep any woman aside if she got in his way.
She pulled her gown over her head and stared at her naked image in the mirror. Her skin was still white and smooth. She glanced at her black hair; it was still lustrous and soft. Her hips were fuller than they had been, but most men liked a woman with a ripe figure. She parted her full lips and smiled. Men were all fools. Why should Thorn be any different? Of course, she would have to be very clever this time, because it was clear that he did not trust her.
Closing her eyes, she remembered what it had felt like when Thorn had kissed her. Even though he had been a boy, still she could not forget the feel of his hands on her body.
She stared critically at her image. Her eyes had a hard look about them, and tiny wrinkles fanned out about her mouth. She reached for her rouge pot, knowing that with the right lighting, she would appear younger.
“Thorn, I could have had you once,” she said aloud. “You desired me then, and I will use that desire to bring you back to me.”
Her eyes were bright with passion, and for a moment she forgot about her ambition to be in control of Stoddard Hill. Right now, all she could think about was the blue of Thorn’s eyes, and she recalled so vividly how they had looked when they had been fired by passion.
She had been foolish to lose him, but perhaps it was still not too late to get him back. There was no reason she could not have both Thorn and Stoddard Hill.
With trepidation, Thorn approached his father’s bedside. In the dim light that filtered through the opening in the curtain, he could see how pale Benjamin was. Thorn pulled the b
ed covers aside and pressed his hand against his father’s chest. There was faint breathing, but it was shallow and labored.
Helplessly, he dropped down in a chair and picked up his father’s limp hand, his eyes moving over the frail body. When he had gone away, his father had been a strong and forceful person, now he was only a shell of the man he had once been.
Benjamin mumbled something, and Thorn leaned closer so he could catch the words.
“Margaret…beloved wife.”
Thorn’s eyes burned, and grief settled on his shoulders. His father was calling for his mother.
“I am so cold,” Ben whispered.
Thorn reached for the quilt at the foot of the bed and pulled it over his father. How could he be cold when the heat was so oppressive?
With long strides, Thorn moved to the bell pull and gave it a hard yank.
Moments later, a black face peeped around the corner of the door. This woman was unfamiliar to him. Was no one left at Stoddard Hill whom he had known before? he wondered in irritation.
“Who are you?” he asked, as the woman came shyly into the room.
“I’m Matty’s daughter, Livia.”
He held out his hand waist-high. “Little Livia, the cook’s daughter? The one who used to sleep in a corner of the kitchen with the mother cat and all her kittens?”
She grinned widely, feeling pleased that he would remember her. “Yes’er, Master Thorn, that’s me.”
He drew in a deep breath. “Well, Livia, I need help, and I don’t know who I can trust anymore.” His eyes were seeking. “Can I trust you to look after my father?”
She pulled herself up proud. “Yes, sir, you can trust me, Master Thorn.”
He gave her a smile. “Then find someone whom you trust and send them for the doctor. Then come back here to me as soon as possible.”
Her eyes darted to where her old master lay. “There’s a new doctor, but Master don’t like him none.”
“So I have been told, but he will have to do for now. Hurry, girl, we may not have much time.”
She moved quickly to the door and paused to glance sorrowfully at the old man on the bed. “He’s a good man, Master Thorn. He was always good to me and Mama.”
Brittany paced back and forth before the window, her eyes always on the roadway. Panic was rising up inside her with each passing hour. She glanced at the mantel clock in despair. Achmed had been gone since early morning, and the sun was going down. What could be keeping him? she wondered frantically.
She paused, staring at the china face of the clock as it struck seven. Could something have happened to delay Achmed? Of course he could have lost his way, but she doubted it, because he had a good sense of direction.
Moving out of the room and down the hallway, she called to the housekeeper. “Find me transportation, I am going to search for Achmed.”
Trained to obey orders, the housekeeper rushed out of the room to find the caretaker.
Brittany was seated in the buggy as it pulled out the iron gate and into the main flow of the evening traffic. Her eyes were ever-searching as the driver moved slowly across town.
They drove up one street and then down another, crosscrossing the town. At last the driver turned to her, his black face etched with concern. “I do not know where to take you, Mistress Sinclair. We been everywhere.”
Brittany tried to keep the panic out of her voice. “Could it be that we missed Achmed along the way and he has already gone home?”
“That could be, miss.”
“Then let us go back,” she said, daring to hope Achmed would be at Stonehouse to greet her when she returned.
Thorn handed his hat to Betty, noting the concern in her dark eyes. “Is Miss Sinclair in?” he asked.
“No, sir, Master Thorn. Daniel took her looking for that Achmed. He left this morning and ain’t come back. She was mighty worried when she left here.”
Thorn turned back to the door with the intention of searching for Brittany, but by the time he reached the front porch, she was climbing the steps toward him.
When she saw Thorn, Brittany ran to him. “Has Achmed returned?”
“Not yet,” Thorn told her, taking her arm and leading her inside the house. “Suppose you tell me what has occurred,” he said, seating her in a chair and then sitting down across from her.
Brittany clasped her hands together. “Achmed left this morning to find lodgings for the two of us.” She looked up at Thorn with a frantic light in her eyes. “Something has happened to him. I just know it has.”
“Why would he be looking for lodgings? Are you not happy here?”
Her eyes showed her distress. “I just learned this morning that my grandmother has been deceased for several years. Achmed and I were going to vacate your house.”
“I see.”
She moved off the chair and knelt down before him in a flurry of petticoats. “Thorn, I know you have already done so much for me…but will you help me find Achmed? He has not fully recovered from his ordeal, and I should never have allowed him to go out alone.”
Thorn stood up and carried her with him. “I will help you if you promise to wait here and do nothing until I return. Don’t go off again, thinking you can find Achmed, is that understood?”
“Yes, I understand. But please hurry because I fear for his life.”
Thorn read the fear etched on her face. “You really do care for him, don’t you?”
“Of course, Thorn. I told you he is my friend.”
He smiled down at her. “Try not to worry. I am sure he got lost and couldn’t find his way home. Don’t forget he has been ill and has not had time to learn his way around.”
“Oh, I hope that’s all it is, Thorn. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to him. Simijin expected me to keep Achmed safe, but so far, I have failed in that.”
Thorn laughed softly, his eyes dancing with mirth. “I had thought Achmed was the one looking after you, rather than the other way around.”
“Sometimes Achmed is like a child. He is very strong, but he is too trusting of other people.”
Thorn raised his eyebrow. “A trait that is not unknown in you.”
“I know, Thorn, but I have learned my lesson. I will never talk to a strange man again.”
Thorn touched her cheek. “Between the two of you, you are determined to keep my life in an upheaval. The first day I saw you and Achmed, I should have pitched you both in the sea.”
She smiled at him. “You missed your chance; now it is too late.”
He moved to the door. “Not all together. Perhaps you are yet in for a good dunking from me.”
The troubles of the day seemed to melt away for Brittany. Once more Thorn had come to her aid. If anyone would find Achmed, it would be he.
Chapter Twenty-three
Brittany had not meant to fall asleep, but her eyes were heavy, and she soon dozed off.
When the clock struck twelve, she awoke and looked about her in confusion. Why was she lying on the couch in the parlor?
She sat up, stretching her tired muscles. Suddenly she remembered that Achmed was missing and Thorn had gone out searching for him. She jumped to her feet and raced to the window. The lanterns on the front porch swayed in the wind and it had begun to rain.
She searched the driveway and the road beyond, hoping at any moment to see Thorn returning with Achmed.
She stood there, keeping her vigil until the clock struck one. Time seemed to crawl. Several carriages passed, but none of them pulled beneath the iron gates of Stonehouse.
Too weary to stand, she sank down on the window seat and pressed her forehead to the window.
At last she saw the buggy pull into the driveway. Racing outside, she waited on the porch for Thorn. When he leapt to the ground, his solemn expression told her that he had not yet found Achmed.
Thorn climbed the steps and took Brittany’s hand in his. “I will search again tomorrow.”
Her eyes looked down the roadway, as if she ex
pected Achmed to appear at any moment.
“Where can he be?” she cried.
“I don’t know, Brittany, but several crew members from the Victorious are still searching for him. I am confident they will find him.”
“I wish I could do something.”
He led her inside before he took her in his arms. “Waiting is the hardest part, Brittany. I would stay with you if I could, but my father is gravely ill, and I have to get back to Stoddard Hill. I will return to you as soon as I am able.”
“Oh, Thorn, I am so sorry. Here you are worried about your father, and I place an added burden on you.”
His arms tightened about her, and he just held her close for a moment, needing her sweetness to chase the unpleasantness away. “I have some thinking to do about you, Brittany. You cannot stay here alone. We do not want the gossips to make something ugly out of an innocent situation.”
She glanced up at his face and saw the weariness etched there. “I will do whatever you think necessary, Thorn. It always seems I am pulling you into my predicaments.” She gently touched his cheek. “Now that you have troubles, I wish I could help you.”
He raised her hand and kissed it, then realeased it and stepped away. “I may ask something of you tomorrow.”
Her eyes were filled with sadness. “Ask what you will of me, and I will do it, Thorn.”
“Don’t be too hasty,” he said teasingly. “You should never obligate yourself until you know what you are committing to, Brittany.”
“Thorn?”
“Yes.”
“I will pray for your father tonight when I pray for Achmed.”
He studied her for a long moment, thinking anyone who looked as angelic as she did must have a deep faith in God.
“I never thought to ask what religion you practice, Brittany.”
“Mama told me that my father was a Quaker, but she was raised in the Church of England, and that is also my faith. Although Simijin was not of our faith, he allowed my mother to have a chapel in the palace.”
“Yes,” he said, looking at the halo of light adorning her golden head, “say a prayer for my father. He has not had an easy life of late.”
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