She waved that away with angry impatience. She didn’t want to go over all that again. “So, when my father died, I went to live with Uncle Matthew. He is my guardian until I am one-and-twenty, but he shares control of my fortune with a whole board of trustees.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “I know this sounds like a melodrama that Mrs. Radcliffe might have written, but they really did want me to marry Luke so they would have my fortune.”
“I ran out of time,” Dove said with difficulty. “I could find no trace of your marriage in the parish church records, but I couldn’t look further afield if I wanted to be back in Blackhaven tonight. If you were forced to marry him, we’ll have it annulled. Or I could just shoot him,” he finished with savage satisfaction.
“You don’t want to be imprisoned for murder,” she said seriously. “Which reminds me, Dove, you mustn’t meet him in a duel under any circumstances. He will cheat—he’ll shoot early, or my uncle will have someone else kill you first. There is nothing they will not do to achieve their aims, and they have an army of servants to do their bidding.”
“I have a bit of experience with armies. What I want to know is how you ended up in the sea, in a box. Do they inherit the money if you die?”
She shook her head. “No, it will go to a charitable foundation. Um… I’m afraid I put myself in the box.”
Dove closed his mouth. “That, I did not expect. Why? How?”
She closed her eyes. This was the difficult bit. “I’m afraid of the dark.”
“I know,” he said gently, smoothing her hair. “Everyone’s afraid of something.”
“They’re my family, so they always knew. Luke shut me in a cupboard when I was six and wouldn’t let me out. I screamed for hours, even after they let me out. My mother eviscerated Luke, verbally. My father beat him. His own father said he did, but I doubt it ever happened. In any case, he never did it again…while my parents were alive. But he remembered. They all did.”
Dove’s arms came around her. “Dear God,” he whispered. “They locked you up to persuade you to marry Luke?”
She nodded, clinging to him. “In the townhouse in Liverpool. Which is mine. For nearly three days, I think. They even sent the domestic servants away so no one would hear me scream and let me out. I think… I think I went a little insane.”
“Dear God, anyone would, even if they hadn’t begun with a fear of the dark.” He kissed her hair, holding her close, and she had never felt so safe. And yet during the time she was describing, she thought she would never be safe again. “How did you get out?”
“My aunt. I told her I was really sick and afraid of dying. And when she opened the door, I threw my chamber pot at her and ran.”
She gave a hiccough of laughter. “That was funny, looking back. But at the time, I didn’t notice. I jumped over her, into the first room I came to, and jumped out of the window. My uncle’s servants pursued me. One of them had a dog. I felt like a hunted animal.”
She hugged Dove tighter. “Eventually, I found myself at the docks. I had this idea of boarding a ship, going anywhere that would take me away from them. But I wasn’t thinking straight. I just recognized the name of The Phoenix for some reason.”
“You own it,” Dove said. “That’s one of the things I found out in Liverpool.”
She stared at him in shock. “I do?”
“Go on,” he urged.
“My uncle’s men were still chasing me. Or at least I think they were. As I said, I was a bit mad just then. I could have been running from strangers by then, or from shadows. At any rate, I thought they were close, and I hid in an empty crate.”
Dove frowned. “Even though you’re afraid of the dark?”
“I could see the sky and the stars, so I wasn’t afraid to be there. I was just terrified of my uncle’s servants finding me. I heard them walk past. And then someone else, talking all the time, shoved a lid over the top and nailed it shut, and I was in darkness again. I don’t think he even saw me there, and I was too shocked to cry out. I couldn’t believe I’d been so idiotic.”
“And your crate was put on board The Phoenix with the brandy. Sweet Jesus.”
“I think I slept for most of it. I was exhausted with fear, and I’d had no food and very little water. And then I was in the water and drowning…” She trailed off, shuddering.
“Don’t,” he said, stroking her hair, kissing her cheeks, her lips. “Don’t. I know the rest. You are such a strong, brave girl coming through all of this, not only sane but sweet and compassionate. I love you even more.”
“Oh, I was hoping you would, because my family is not gently born. My father began as a weaver.”
“A respectable trade.”
“Not to a gentleman!”
He kissed her mouth with passion, effectively silencing her, and it struck her that everything she’d suffered had been worth it just to know this man’s kisses.
“I hear the Grants outside,” she said breathlessly against his lips. “Quick, tell me what else you discovered in Liverpool.”
“I might as well tell you altogether. And seriously, I think you are being overcautious. Even your uncle cannot go about murdering entire communities of people—including vicars—with impunity. You are the only proof of the story, and they can’t kill you or they’ll lose all hope of your fortune.” He released her with reluctance and stood as the Grants all burst into the room, along with Dr. Lampton.
“Tillie, are you hurt?” Mrs. Grant exclaimed, rushing to her.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Tillie assured them. “I merely got a fright, but Dove appeared from nowhere and struck Luke such a blow that he positively flew across the floor! It was wonderful.”
“Hitherto unsuspected blood lust,” Dr. Lampton observed, crouching down in front of her to inspect her head and peer into her face.
“Understandable blood lust in the circumstances,” Dove insisted.
Lampton grunted. “How often, exactly, did you hit him? Do I have to save his life?”
“No,” Dove said regretfully.
“I’m so sorry, we didn’t see anything at the time,” Grant said, a frown of worry between his brows. “We only noticed your chair was empty, and then I went running all over the theatre to find you. Fortunately, I ran into the cloakroom maid who was on her way to our box, and she said Dove had taken you home. I have been a poor protector.”
“No, no,” Tillie said in distress. “It never entered your head that they would be capable of such a thing. Especially when they have been so reasonable since coming to Blackhaven.”
Dove caught her eyes, and she took a deep breath. “Also, you could not be expected to know, because I did not tell you. I have not been honest with you. Since the night of the ball, when I first saw them, I began to remember. I remember everything. I didn’t want to tell you because…because, well, I thought it would put you in danger. But I’m sure now Dove is right. You have to know.”
“I thought you remembered more than you were admitting,” Dr. Lampton remarked without obvious anger.
“I suppose it’s actually in my favor if I’m a worse liar than I imagined,” Tillie said ruefully.
“Well, you didn’t actually lie much,” he excused her. “It was just that you said, But I don’t remember marrying Luke. You called him by name with familiarity, and it did imply you remembered other things. So, I’m guessing Luke Dawlish is not your husband?”
She shuddered. “God, no.” And she quickly repeated what she had just told Dove, reducing her listeners to appalled silence.
“And The Phoenix,” Dove added, “belonged to Tillie.”
“Which is odd in more ways than one,” Tillie said. “For I was talking to Captain Smith in the pump room when my uncle came in, calling me his niece, and I could swear this was a shock to the captain.”
Grant rubbed his chin. “I suppose it’s astonishing enough to have a waif amongst one’s cargo, without that waif being your employer. And he doesn’t mix much with the townspeople,
so he wouldn’t pick up the gossip.”
“What else did you learn in Liverpool, Dove?” Tillie asked him eagerly.
“That your uncle has been throwing his weight around, using his connection to your late father to influence decisions he has no real say in—where ships go, what they carry, who captains them, who gets what positions in the mills. There is some unease, not only among the workforce—several long-term managers, foremen, captains, have been replaced—but among some of the board members who run these enterprises.”
“Well, I shall have Mr. Hatton reinstate everyone,” Tillie said indignantly. “Unless they are guilty of some crime, of course. But… Smith is one of theirs?” Tillie said at once. “My uncle is behind this betrayal?”
“If betrayal it is,” Dove warned. “We are only guessing. I’m hoping Alban can get to the truth of that,”
“But can we trust Captain Alban?” Tillie said doubtfully. “You said he had a checkered past.”
“He will do nothing to make Lady Bella, his wife, uncomfortable,” Mrs. Grant stated. “And in any case, he is quite the hero nowadays. You may trust him to do what is right, in his own inimitable fashion.”
Tillie nodded, accepting this as fair. “But what could be my uncle’s aim? I always thought it merely to get his hands on my father’s money. Why on earth would he get involved with Bonapartists?”
“If money is his primary motivation, that is probably the answer,” Dove said. “Perhaps he needs an alternative source of income until he can marry you to Luke. But it means there is someone dangerous behind them.”
“The Frenchman who wrote the letter to Smith?” Tillie guessed.
“Possibly,” Dove allowed. He smoothed out his frowning brow. “In the meantime, I think we have to preserve the fiction of your lost memories… You didn’t say anything to Luke that would betray you knew him?”
“No, I was too busy kicking him and trying to trip him up. He was always a nasty bully.”
“I think it’s your best protection. That and keeping you always in company when you are out. If they imagine you’ve told anyone what they did, they’ll have nothing to lose and may try to abduct you even more blatantly.”
Tillie scowled. “Whatever they did, I would never make vows to Luke.”
“You might not need to,” Grant said. “There are unscrupulous men among the clergy, as in any profession.”
Tillie’s eyes widened. “You mean they could get such a clergyman to ignore my protests and pronounce us married?”
“No,” Dove said firmly. “It will not happen. Tillie, how much did you have to do with the business? Do you know who they trade with, partner with?”
“Not really,” Tillie admitted. “In my father’s day, I had some care of the mill workforce—he let me introduce the creche there, for one thing. But my uncle is not so indulgent. He kept me away from everything, and in any case, most of the boards cannot be bothered with a mere female interfering in men’s work! So, I don’t see who they do business with.”
“Colonel Fredericks,” Mrs. Grant said suddenly.
Dove blinked. “Our retired colonel? What of him? He still lives in Blackhaven.”
“Yes, but he has some military intelligence role, does he not?”
Dove hesitated. “Yes, but it is not generally known.”
Mrs. Grant raised an amused eyebrow. “My dear, sir, one cannot keep secrets in Blackhaven.”
Actually, you could, Tillie thought, stricken all over again by the knowledge. No one knew that Major Doverton was dying.
Chapter Thirteen
Dove was kept busy for most of the next day, catching up with his normal duties as well as keeping Colonel Gordon apprised of his suspicions of Captain Smith.
“Better report to Colonel Fredericks,” Gordon advised that morning. He peered more closely at Dove. “You rode to Liverpool and back in two days?”
Dove thought it prudent not to mention his detour to Manchester. “Yes, sir. I knew you’d given me my head to investigate the matter, but I didn’t want to neglect my other duties for too long.”
“How are you bearing up?” Gordon asked gruffly.
“Well, sir,” Dove replied with patience. In truth, his abdomen ached, and he would have liked a few more hours rest, but he would neither admit it nor give into it. He never had.
“Good, good. Well, delegate your other duties—Kit Grantham is proving useful there. Unless you prefer Blackshaw?”
“No, I don’t prefer Blackshaw at this moment. Maybe later, but for now, I think he has difficulty…adjusting to being home.”
Gordon cocked an intelligent eyebrow. “Still? Do I need to have a word?”
“No, sir, I believe he’s coming back into line. He’s a good man underneath it all.”
“Good, good. But Dove?” he added as Dove turned to go. “Remember he has friends in high places. He’s heir to a barony, and his godfather’s an earl.”
“Doesn’t change his ability as an officer, sir.”
“No, it doesn’t,” the colonel agreed with regret. “I rely on you to do that!”
*
Returning somewhat wearily to his quarters for a short rest before calling on Colonel Fredericks, he was surprised to find Kit Grantham waiting for him.
“Hope you don’t mind,” Grantham said. “Cully let me in.”
“Of course I don’t.” Dove sank into the battered chair opposite him. “In fact, it saves me the trouble of looking for you. I wanted to discuss something with you.” Dove frowned. “Two things, now I think about it, but first, what can I do for you?”
“Blackshaw just called on me.”
“Did he? What for?”
“To arrange a duel,” Grantham said steadily, “between you and Miss Tillie’s husband.”
Dove swore. “Damn the man.” He had thought their talk after the ball had begun something, a mutual respect, a new start, even, for Blackshaw. But apparently not. The hate was still there. “Does no one have any discretion? What the devil is Blackshaw doing acting for Luke Dawlish?”
“I presume Dawlish sensed an ally.” Grantham caught his gaze. “Blackshaw complains about you quite a lot.”
“Why?” Dove asked. “I had nothing to do with him until the regiment came home.”
“That’s the trouble. When he first joined us in Spain, all the talk in the battalion was about you. Sorry to say it, Dove, but you were held up as a bit of a hero.”
Dove snorted. He’d never done anything that felt heroic to him. He’d only ever done what he could—his best.
“To be frank,” Grantham said uneasily, “I think he was jealous, tended to belittle the hero-worshippers. And then he saw action himself. Between you, me, and the gatepost, he didn’t distinguish himself. He’s not a great officer, in battle or out.”
“And he knows it,” Dove said. “Knows I know it, too. Interesting.”
“Not sure he’s savable, Dove. He’s too privileged, too entitled.”
And too eaten up by knowledge of his own inadequacies. But Dove never gave up on anyone. “Oh well, at least he’s only acting for Dawlish and we don’t have to shoot each other. Yet.”
“Well, there’s another issue, Dove. I’m sure you don’t want this bandied about, but if you fight a duel, Tillie’s name will be involved.”
“I suspect it already is. Luke Dawlish is no more her husband than you are. But he is her cousin, and if I back out or apologize, it will be taken as a sign of guilt. I don’t see a way out of fighting.”
“There is one,” Grantham said, shifting in his chair. “But you aren’t going to like it.”
“What?”
“He ain’t a gentleman, Dove,” Grantham said bluntly.
Dove’s lips twisted. “And if I refuse to fight him on those grounds, I insult Tillie as well.”
“Well, try not to kill him, for he’s a civilian and it wouldn’t look good.”
“I’ll hit him where I mean to,” Dove said. “But…I’d be obliged if you’d look out
for any tricks or cheating. His birth doesn’t bother me, but he’s a nasty piece of work, and that does.” He gave a short laugh. “I suppose that’s one way of seeing what Blackshaw is actually made of—whether or not he turns a blind eye.”
“Well, I’d rather you didn’t die finding that out,” Grantham said grimly.
“So would I. When have you arranged it for?”
“Day after tomorrow. Braithwaite Cove at dawn since no one’s in residence at the castle. The tide will be out. I suppose I’d better get Dr. Morton to come, but he won’t like it.”
That was putting it mildly. “Not Morton,” Dove said quickly. “And not Lampton, either. Bad enough having to fight without enduring one of Lampton’s tongue-lashings, too. There’s a new doctor in town—Bellamy, is it? Try him.”
*
Having left the matter of Captain Smith and his French correspondent in the amiable hands of Colonel Fredericks, Dove walked his horse around to the vicarage. His aim was to take Tillie and Kate Grant to tea at the hotel and hope to see John and Ellen at the same time. Even Ash, if he was lucky.
However, it seemed Mrs. Grant already had visitors. As he walked into the house, he heard his brother’s voice and Ellen’s rare laughter. He grinned, for he wanted Tillie to get to know his family. And it was good to hear Ellen laugh. It meant she had relaxed and was enjoying herself. Of course, Kate was excellent company, but Dove dared to hope Tillie had something to do with it, too.
“Major Doverton, ma’am,” the maid announced, and as he strolled in behind her, everyone turned to look at him. Tillie, her lovely face lit with a spontaneous smile of welcome. Kate, looking uncharacteristically nervous. So did John, for some reason, and Ellen was flushed with a gleam of something very like triumph in her expression. The reason sat beside her in widow’s weeds.
Dove recognized her immediately. Felicity, to whom he had once been engaged, his lost first love.
Just for an instant, he remembered that and smiled into her eyes.
*
That smile was like a dagger in Tillie’s heart.
The Wicked Waif Page 13
