“It’s a wonderful idea!” Colette hugged her. “And I’m happy you finally told me about it. I love the challenge of having a new project. And this is so exciting! I shall have my solicitor draw up the contracts so Hamilton’s can purchase this building.” She sighed with satisfaction. “When my father, Thomas Hamilton, began his little bookshop before I was born, I doubt he ever imagined that his daughters would be carrying on the tradition and expanding in such a grand way. But I know he would be proud of not only his daughters, but his granddaughters as well.”
“I’m not truly a Hamilton,” Mara said softly. It surprised her how much that fact used to upset her. That she wasn’t related to this wonderful family by blood.
“Of course you are!” Colette looked at her in surprise. “Mara, of all the Hamilton granddaughters, you love the bookshops the most! You have more ‘Hamilton’ in you than Yvette’s three little girls, who haven’t shown the least bit of interest in the shops as of yet, or Lisette’s daughter, Elizabeth, who has merely tolerated her time working with us. And you certainly possess more dedication than Juliette’s daughter, for Sara has no more than a passing curiosity in how the shops are managed. I have no daughter of my own to pass down my love for our bookstores, but I have been so proud of my beautiful niece over the years. I look upon you as my little kindred spirit.”
Mara blinked back tears as her aunt continued to speak.
“Even though we always include all our sisters in the major decision-making, Paulette and I have been the only ones who truly love working in the bookshops. It’s in our blood and our hearts. It’s been that way ever since we were young girls.” Colette gave a little laugh. “Paulette and I both married extremely well for the daughters of a shopkeeper. She is a countess and I am a marchioness. We’ve no need to run three bookshops, for heaven’s sake! And most people are surprised, and by turns appalled, that we do. But she and I love working and we built these shops into a success from the run-down little store we inherited from our father. We improved the business when everyone doubted us. That is, all the men we had to do business with, doubted us. Why, even our own mother thought we were foolish to want to keep our father’s bookshop going and she tried to sell the store out from under us! And if it weren’t for Lucien believing in me, we would have lost it altogether.”
Mara listened to her aunt with rapt attention. She’d never really known this about the family.
“Paulette and I work hard because we love the bookshop,” Colette continued. “There’s very little in this world a woman can truly call her own, and we had a chance to create a place where it is safe for women to work. We hire women only, for a reason. We wanted to prove that women can be successful in business, and we have, all the while hoping someday we would have daughters to carry on the tradition. Now I love and adore both of my sons, and I would be thrilled if Phillip or Simon ever took more than a half-hearted interest in Hamilton’s. But it’s not to be. As it is, neither Paulette nor I gave birth to a daughter. But then there was you, Mara . . . A gift. A true Hamilton granddaughter.”
Mara could no longer hold back the tears. To hear the words from someone other than Paulette somehow made a world of difference. “Aunt Colette . . . That means so much to me.”
Colette hugged her again, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Your mother and I have talked about it often. About how very lucky we are to have you in our lives, Mara.”
Wiping her eyes, Mara murmured, “Thank you. You have all changed my life for the better by making me part of the family.”
“Of course you are part of our family! And it certainly wasn’t my intention to make you cry.” Colette smiled and hugged her again, attempting to soothe her.
“I realize that.” Mara laughed a little and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’m such a watering pot.”
Colette patted Mara’s shoulder. “There is nothing to apologize for, Mara. Everything is fine. And didn’t we just discover the perfect location for our new shop? Now let’s hurry back or we shall be late for supper. All the family will be at Devon House tonight.”
* * *
Later that evening, a chorus of raucous voices greeted Mara when she entered the third-floor schoolroom where her younger Roxbury and Eddington cousins had gathered.
“Mara, come join us!”
“Yes, please, Mara! Play with us for a little while.”
The whole Hamilton family was in attendance at Devon House for their monthly supper together. Mara had been attending these large family dinners for as long as she could remember. Looking around fondly at the brightly painted walls, trunks full of toys and games, and shelves bursting with books, she recalled the dozens of happy memories of playing in this very room with Sara and Phillip and Simon when they were children. Now the younger Hamilton cousins had taken over the schoolroom.
“We’re playing pirates!” shouted little Vivienne Eddington, the youngest of all the cousins at six years old. “And the girl pirates are winning!”
Vivienne’s pretty blond curls, usually neat and tidy, were a tangled and tousled mess and her large pink hair bow was askew, dangling over one eye in an effort to be a patch. The incongruous sight of the usually demure-looking girl attempting to appear ferocious made Mara smile.
The twins, Christopher and Charles Roxbury, who were closer in age to her brother, Thomas, stood behind a large table turned on its side, brandishing sticks like swords. They gave Mara helpless smiles, for at sixteen they were a little too old to be playing in the schoolroom, but they had obviously been wrangled into placating Vivienne, whom they all adored. They were caring and good-hearted young boys, who would readily play with their younger cousin if it made her happy.
Elizabeth Roxbury, the twins’ younger sister and the other two Eddington girls, Violet and Victoria, were shouting pirate terms and swinging their own sticks.
Violet, the eldest Eddington daughter, ran to Mara’s side. She grabbed her arm, tugging Mara farther into their area of play, and handed her a “sword.”
“We have the boys trapped on the island. They have no way to get off,” Violet explained excitedly.
“And they will most likely die there!” Vivienne shouted with wicked glee. “And then . . . And then we shall throw them to the sharks and take their treasure!”
Giving in to their requests, Mara gamely took the stick that Violet handed her, held it up, and exclaimed in her best pirate voice, “You must forfeit your treasure to us or forever remain on the island!”
Christopher yelled, “We shall never surrender!” as he leapt over the table and began to chase his little cousins around the great room. Shrieking and some heated sword fighting ensued.
Feeling more lighthearted than she had in years, Mara played at being pirates with her cousins, yet her mind was with Foster and all that they had shared the other night. It was still difficult to believe any of it had really happened.
As she had rightly assumed, she returned from Foster’s house that evening without being detected, and for that she was very grateful. She had worried that someone would notice the change in her, for surely her sudden happiness was radiating from her. She felt as if she couldn’t stop smiling. But no one mentioned a word. Not even Aunt Colette, with whom she had spent most of the day.
Mara could think of nothing but how happy she was!
Foster Sheridan loved her and she loved him. Buoyed by the exquisite feeling of being loved and wanted in spite of her flaws, Mara had floated on a cloud of utter delight since the first evening they had spent together.
Mara hadn’t seen Foster since last week, when he had discreetly taken her back to Devon House under the cover of darkness, but they had exchanged a few notes and were planning to meet again. Tomorrow afternoon, in fact. Mara was to come to his house via the back entrance, so as to avoid anyone seeing her enter his home. She’d even purchased a new cloak with a deep hood, which would cover her head and face, making it difficult for anyone to identify her.
A loud voice suddenly echoed thro
ugh the room. “I am the Pirate King and this pirate war is now over! I claim all the rewards and treasures for my own!”
“Papa!” Vivienne yelled in delight at the tall and handsome man with laughing eyes who stood in the entryway, a mischievous smile on his face.
Uncle Jeffrey walked in and swooped his youngest daughter up in his arms. “I shall hold this vicious little pirate hostage unless you all get ready for dinner!”
Vivienne demanded, “Play with us first, Papa!”
And he did, jumping right into the fun. He took Vivienne’s sword in his hand, and still carrying her in his arms, Uncle Jeffrey dueled with each of them, while little Vivienne shouted insults at them. One would never guess that he was the Duke of Rathmore.
A rousing duel ensued, with perilous chases around the large schoolroom leaving chairs overturned and books and games knocked over. However, it all came to a sudden halt when Aunt Yvette arrived, staring at the chaos in the room with utter disbelief.
“It sounds as if you’re about to come crashing through the ceiling,” Yvette said, surveying the state of disarray around the room with a wry look. “And we’re two floors below you! Honestly, Jeffrey. And you too, Mara.” She shook her head and laughed. “I didn’t expect to see the two of you involved in these shenanigans.”
“Just a bit of fun with my darling daughters, nieces, and nephews,” Jeffrey explained, out of breath and winded from his exertions. He winked at his wife with a wicked smile. “I’m the Pirate King.”
Yvette laughed in amusement, her eyes adoring. “Of course you are.”
Uncle Jeffrey set a reluctant Vivienne down on the floor and Mara too tried to catch her breath.
“Come along now, all of you, supper will be ready soon, and since you insisted on dining with the adults this evening, then you must behave accordingly. Yes, you too, Vivvy!” As Yvette expertly shooed all the children from the room, Mara and Uncle Jeffrey stood behind, looking a little sheepish.
“That was fun though, wasn’t it?” he asked her when everyone else had gone.
“Yes, it was,” Mara agreed with a smile.
Her uncle was always great fun. Over the years he had been the one ready and willing to play with her and Sara, Phillip, and Simon when they were young. Uncle Jeffrey had a gift for bringing levity and diversion wherever he went. He was adored by all his nieces and nephews, and Mara was no exception.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Mara,” he said, as he righted a chair that had been knocked on its side on the schoolroom floor.
“Oh?” she asked, as she began to pick up some of the toys that had been scattered around during their pirate war. “Have they sent you to try to discover the secret reason why I haven’t gone to Ireland with my parents?”
Uncle Jeffrey burst into a wide grin. “Guilty as charged.”
“I suspected as much.”
“How did you know?” he questioned, picking up another chair.
Mara shrugged and tossed a few more stuffed animals into the large trunk of toys against the wall. “Just a feeling I had.”
He gave her an admiring glance. “I don’t think anyone gives you enough credit, Mara.”
“Enough credit for what?” she asked.
Wordlessly they each took an end of the large table that had been “the island” and together they turned it to rights. They both sat upon it, Mara’s feet dangling because she couldn’t reach the floor.
“As long as I’ve known you, your parents have worried about you and treated you as if you were made of glass,” Jeffrey explained. “I understand why, of course. I more than likely would have done the same, if I were Declan. You suffered a terrible tragedy at a very tender age. When I first met you, Mara, you hadn’t spoken since the fire. Do you recall that?”
Oh, yes, Mara could never forget the year she didn’t utter a single word. It hadn’t been a deliberate or defiant act on her part. The fear and horror of what she had seen the night her mother died had quite literally left her speechless for months on end. “Yes, I remember that time quite well.”
“I always thought you were the most remarkable child,” he said. “The night Paulette and I rescued you from your father’s cousin, you were so calm and ran off with us without a complaint.”
Mara hadn’t thought of that strange night in quite a long time. She did recall the secrecy and urgency of leaving Cashelmore Manor with Paulette and being carried by Uncle Jeffrey to safety. He had been so kind to her, while she waited with Paulette to see her father again. It was all such a long time ago.
Jeffrey continued. “I just think that because of everything that happened, Declan and Paulette, and all of us, feared losing you again or upsetting you in any way after all you’d been through. Because you are undeniably sweet, thoughtful, and quiet, everyone in the family felt the need to protect you. Myself included.” He gave her an appraising look. “But I think we all underestimated your strength, Mara. There is no need for us to tiptoe around your feelings. You are a lot stronger and resilient than we give you credit for.”
“So what are you saying, Uncle Jeffrey?”
He sighed in defeat. “That you are correct. Your mother and father, out of their great love for you, have asked me to talk with you. They are worried about you, and for some reason, probably because I’m the favorite uncle”—he grinned devilishly—“they believed you would confide your secrets to me.”
Mara had known her parents were concerned about her, and her aunts as well. She was not at all surprised that they sent Uncle Jeffrey to check on her. It almost made her laugh. She loved her uncle, but she could never bring herself to tell him about her relationship with Foster Sheridan.
“Well, dearest Uncle, I appreciate your caring and concern, but there is nothing to worry about. I am perfectly fine,” Mara said in a matter-of-fact tone. “There is no deep, dark reason that I stayed in London. What everyone seems to forget is that London is just as much my home as Ireland is. I simply wanted to stay home. That is all. So please relay the message back to my mother and father and all my aunts, that I am completely fine and perfectly happy.”
“I guessed you’d say something along those lines, and I told everyone as much. But as I said, they all love and care for you.” He gave a helpless shrug. “And I suppose I had to try.”
“Thank you,” Mara responded and planted a little kiss on his cheek. “You’re quite a good uncle.”
“You’re very welcome.” He smiled at her warmly. “And just remember, sweet Mara, that if you do ever need my sage advice or heroic assistance in any way, you can always come to me. I shall even keep what you say in the strictest of confidence, if that is the case.”
“Again, thank you, and I promise that I will come to you if ever such a need arises,” Mara said. He really was a dear. She slid down off the table.
“Well, then, that’s settled,” he said, clapping his hands. “I suppose we should go dress for supper as well.”
And then it happened. Mara inwardly groaned.
Oh no! Not now. Not in front of Uncle Jeffrey!
It was starting and there was no way she could stop the dizziness once it started. She swayed and almost fell over.
“Mara?” her uncle called out in alarm, reaching out to grip her shoulders and steady her. “Mara!”
She could not answer him. She was powerless to move or speak.
And so it began . . . Again . . .
That peculiarly familiar tingling sensation slowly crept over her flesh, awakening each and every nerve in her body. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and she grew hot and yet she shivered at the same time. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her teeth clenched. Mara closed her eyes and held her breath. Everything around her receded into a dark cloud of silence. Sharp pinpricks of awareness lit up inside of her, flashing sparks of light from within.
Misty wisps of images began to take shape in her mind, presenting themselves to her . . . whether she wanted them to or not . . .
Fire. Glints
of flames. Blinding bursts of light. Shimmering walls of golden orange and brilliant yellow. Breathtaking, scorching heat. Trapped in the burning building, blazing embers and smoky ash filling the air, Mara didn’t know where to go or how to escape. Where was she? How was she to get out? Gut-wrenching, tormented screams echoed against the rush of flames. Someone was in great agony. Someone needed her help. A woman. But where was she? Mara could not see, did not know where to go. Her own panicked, terrified cries reverberated around her.
Scalding tears, knowing it was her fault, knowing it was too late. Blinding heat and black smoke and swirling flames, the vicious sting of fear and the horrific smell of imminent death surrounded her. It was too late. Too late.
Her death. She was going to die in this raging inferno.
Swirling darkness. A short breath of blessedly cool air. She gasped and fell to her knees.
Foster. He was there.
Frantically calling to her, his hand outstretched, reaching for her, a look of love, mixed with anguish and horror, awash on his handsome face. She held out her hand to him, trusting him implicitly, the terror that engulfed her dissipating at the touch of his fingers. Flooded with relief and elation, buoyed with happiness and hope, Mara clung to him, his strong arms embracing her, carrying her away.
Foster held her tightly to his broad chest and she was safe, secure, loved. In spite of their dangerous surroundings and the acrid smell of smoke thick around them, she could breathe easily within his sheltering embrace. A profound peace enveloped her.
She belonged to him. They belonged together.
“Mara!”
Her eyes fluttered open. Uncle Jeffrey stared at her with a worried expression on his face. She closed her eyes again and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. Struggling to understand what had just happened.
The Irish Heiress Page 13
