It Begins with a Kiss (5 page)

That odd, compelling warmth had vanished. Her chest hurt with shame.

Mr. Knight backed up as if she had burned him. “My pardon,” he muttered, his expression suddenly shuttered. “I had no right.”

Fiona saw that his hand was still suspended between them, as if he couldn’t completely break the contact. She felt her own heart reaching out, as if that one kiss could have forged some unbreakable bond.

“My hair, Mr. Knight,” she said, her own voice unpardonably breathy. “Could you finish releasing me?”

His gaze snapped up to hers, then to her hair. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

She looked down at her feet, wishing she could somehow escape the last few moments. Her bonnet still lay on the grass, now sadly dampened and a bit crushed. She couldn’t afford another, she thought inconsequentially. How would she be able to travel all the way to Edinburgh to locate Mairead, if she didn’t have a bonnet?

“Your sister is safe,” Mr. Knight said, as if hearing the question.

Fiona’s head popped up and she gasped again at the pain.

Mr. Knight held her still. “Don’t move,” he snapped. “You’ll only hurt yourself worse.”

“Mairead,” she said, ignoring his warning. “What do you mean she’s safe? Do you know where she is?”

He spared her a quick glance, and then returned to his work. “She is safe. I promise on my honor as a gentleman. Now, if you’ll hold still…”

Suddenly Fiona was free. Her head felt lighter, cooler. Oddly vulnerable. She turned to see the length of dark red hair she’d left wafting from the tangle of branches like seaweed on a tide and afforded it a brief ache of regret. Then, bending to retrieve her bonnet, she allowed Mr. Knight to set her atop the stile.

“First,” he said, standing before her with one foot resting on a lower rung, “there is something you need to know. Something you may not share with anyone.” He frowned. “Top of that list would be my sister. Pip couldn’t keep her mouth shut if it were sewed.”

Fiona frowned right back. “You do your sister a great disservice. She is the most loyal and discreet of friends.”

Mr. Knight just lifted an eyebrow. “The point is, I must have your promise or I go no farther. I will take you back to that school, and I promise you that no matter how hard you try, you will not leave that school until I say so.”

How had she allowed herself to become so distracted by him, she thought, resentment swelling where joy had briefly lived. How could she forget, even for a moment, what it was she set out to do today?

“All right,” she snapped, rubbing her palms down her skirt. “You have my promise.”

He actually looked relieved. Against her will, Fiona was intrigued.

“First of all,” he said, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his hair, “I need to beg your pardon for the treatment you’ve received at Miss Chase’s. It will end today. I promise that.”

“How could you have any impact on the discipline at my school?”

He looked away, as if uncomfortable. “Miss Chase’s is more than a girls’ finishing school. It is a safe house for the sisters and daughters of certain… agents for the British government. A place where those public servants can be assured no harm can come to the more vulnerable of their family members.”

Fiona was the one who blinked now. She felt a great void opening in her chest, as if the world she was so familiar with had just tipped on end. “I don’t understand.”

He rolled his hat in his hands. “There are quite a few men contributing to the war effort who work in delicate positions. Often we take part in clandestine activities that could put our families at risk. No man wishes to see his loved ones injured.”

He had obviously never met most of the parents she’d known in her life, Fiona thought. But he wasn’t waiting for her opinion of his statement.

“Early during the war,” he continued, focusing on his hat, “when it became obvious that this clandestine work would have to be ongoing and possibly long-term, we studied the risks to ourselves and our mission. Besides outright attacks on the agents, we had to anticipate attempts to use our families as a means of coercion, by blackmail, extortion, outright kidnapping. And no one was more vulnerable than the women in our lives. Especially our sisters and daughters.”

“And you are one of these agents?”

He nodded. “I am the presumptive heir to an earldom, so I may not participate openly in anything. But I do help where I may. I couldn’t take the chance that someone would find out and take advantage of my sister. There is little more dear to me than Pip.”

“And she doesn’t know?”

He scowled. “She thinks she does. I’m trying to disabuse her of the notion. I’m afraid she thinks it
romantic
.”

Fiona couldn’t help a brief smile. “She would.” But Pip was much more adventurous than most girls she knew. “Are you saying that all of the students at Last Chance are related to spies?”

He blinked. “At what?”

She flashed him a smile. “You didn’t know? It’s what we girls call the school. Last Chance Academy. We are all seen as incorrigible.”

“And are you?”

She nodded. “Mostly, yes. Are we? Relatives of agents?”

He smiled. “Mostly, yes.”

“But Sarah Tregallan’s adoptive parents have been dead five years. Not that I could ever imagine them extending themselves to help the war effort. And she has no idea who her real parents are.”

“She knows that she’s…?”

“Conceived in sin? Baseborn? A by-blow? Oh, yes.” She shook her head in disgust. “The Reverend and Mrs. Tregallan felt that she could only atone for her sin if she was aware of it.”

Mr. Knight met her gaze with those deep chocolate eyes. “Her sin.” It was his turn to shake his head. “Save me from self-righteous Christians.”

“You know who her real father is, though,” Fiona said. “Don’t you? Is he… an agent?”

She knew that Mr. Knight was assessing her before deciding what to divulge. She didn’t know what to do to inspire confidence.

“Yes,” he finally said. “He was. And I don’t believe Sarah would be surprised to learn that he has served his government in more than obvious ways.”

Fiona stared at her clenched hands. “Is she Lizzie Ripton’s sister?” They had all assumed it, of course. Anyone in Sarah’s proximity possessing eyes and a brain would.

When Mr. Knight didn’t answer, Fiona looked up to see the answer in his eyes. “Somebody needs to tell her,” she said.

He shrugged. “It isn’t my place.”

Fiona shook her head. She didn’t know if it was her place either. Better to move on. Jumping from the stile, this time with great care, she began to pace.

“Then Ian isn’t in the Black Watch, as we thought?” she asked. “He’s… one of you?”

She turned back to see Mr. Knight wearing a noncommittal expression.

“Don’t be coy, Mr. Knight,” she said, hands on hips. “You’ve already let loose of the biggest secret.”

He grinned. “Don’t you think we could dispense with formalities? Pip calls me Alex.”

“She calls you Dunderhead,” Fiona retorted. “And that’s when she’s pleased with you. But thank you. I’ll settle for Alex. You’ve come this far. Finish the tale. What does Ian have to do with all this?”

He nodded and took her place on the stile, elbows on thighs as he sat. “Ian is indeed a serving officer in the Black Watch, Fiona. But he has long since taken on extra missions that put him in rather dangerous company. He wanted to make sure both you and Mairead would be safe while he was so occupied.”

Fiona thought of the draconian world of Last Chance and wondered exactly how her brother defined safe.

Her expression must have betrayed her, because Alex got back to his feet and grasped her hands. “He didn’t know about conditions at the school,” he insisted. “None of us did. We relied on a gentleman in the government who assured us that Miss Chase’s was the most secure environment for you.” For a moment the tension in his features eased a bit. “And indeed, none of you has been captured or ransomed or threatened.”

“Not by foreign agents,” Fiona agreed, distracted by the gentle strength in Alex’s hands. Even through his gloves, she could feel that curious life that emanated from him. “You might have taken better care with the staff, however.”

He looked stricken. “Then Pip wasn’t exaggerating. You have been caned and starved.”

She shrugged, uncomfortable with his obvious guilt. “It has not been the most salubrious atmosphere.”

“Which was why your sister couldn’t tolerate it.”

Fiona had to smile. “Don’t take responsibility for that, Alex. Mairead would not have lasted if the school had been all chintz curtains and penmanship classes. She simply isn’t made for restricted environments.”

Now that they had come to it, Fiona was afraid to ask. “Please tell me where she is. Tell me why you’re so sure she’s safe.”

“Because she is with my man Wilkins,” he said. “And I would trust Wilkins in a slum with my heir. Besides, your fortunes have changed.”

She blinked, blindsided again. “Changed? Oh, lord, now what?”

Alex eased her back over to the stile and sat her down again, which did nothing to ease her fresh anxiety.

“This is the news you need to sit for,” he said. “No, Fiona, it is not bad news. It is actually good news.” He shook his head. “Astonishing news, I imagine.”

She felt the hard cold wood of the stile against her thighs, the comforting warmth of his hands. She kept thinking that this conversation couldn’t take an odder turn. At least it had stopped raining.

“I know you think you are also a bastard,” Alex said baldly.

Fiona felt the blood drain from her face. “Pardon?”

Keeping hold of her hand, he sat beside her. “Ian told me. He has always believed that he is the only help you girls have, especially since your mother passed away. So when we recruited him, we had to assure your safety.”

“Ergo, Last Chance.”

“Indeed.”

“Are we coming to the good news soon? My neck is becoming chilled. It is unused to being exposed to this much air.”

She actually got a chuckle from him. “All right then, Miss Ferguson. Or should I say, Lady Fiona Hawes.”

If Alex hadn’t kept hold of her arm, Fiona would have tumbled back into the brambles. “What?”

He was smiling now, as if his news was good after all. “Who, actually. It seems you and your brother have been wrong all these years. Your mother
was
married. In fact, she was married to an English viscount named Reginald Hawes.”

Shock tasted like winter wind, Fiona thought. Sharp, cold, frighteningly empty. “I don’t understand.”

“When Ian began to work for us, one of our members began to look into his background. Some memory struck a chord about your mother’s name. Margaret Ferguson. It took our member a few years, but he was able to verify that Ian is now Earl Hawes, heir to the Marquess of Kendall. You are actually Lady Fiona Hawes. Well, to be precise about it, Lady Eloise Fiona Ferguson Hawes.”

“Eloise?” She knew her voice sounded small and lost.

He nodded. “Mairead’s real name is Ethel. Ethel Margaret.”

Fiona found she could still laugh. “Good luck convincing her to acknowledge it.”

Alex chuckled. “Your grandfather has been significantly unsuccessful.”

Another blast of shock. “My grandfather.”

“The marquess. Mairead is living with him now. Knowing that Mairead was back at the house near Edinburgh without proper security, Baron… our representative orchestrated her move, along with my man Wilkins.”

“And she went willingly?”

“When she learned that the marquess’s estate sits atop a hill at the edge of the Yorkshire Dales thirty miles from the nearest city and is blessed with an unlimited view, she did.”

Fiona felt herself deflate. Mairead safe. Mairead happy. Was it possible?

“Why did she leave?” Fiona asked.

“Mairead?” Mr. Knight asked.

“My mother.” Fiona couldn’t face him. She clenched her hands in her lap, memories of shouting, cries, weeping, suddenly echoing in her head. “We always thought that he threw us out.”

Alex Knight looked away, his shoulders stiffening. “Your mother ran away, Fiona. To save you all. Your father was… a violent man. Do you remember your younger brother?”

“Teddy,” she said, the name igniting a harsh ache. “He died.”

And they had left right after, the bunting still on the big door, their mother leading the way hand in hand through a moonless night, where the only sounds had been the wind in the leaves and an occasional hoot from an owl. So quiet, after all the tumult in that big house. Fiona had loved the dark ever since.

As if he heard her thoughts, Alex Knight reached over and enfolded her hand in his, surrounding her with his curious, callused warmth. He allowed the silence to stretch on, filled with birdsong and the toll of the parish bell across the meadow.

“My father killed him,” Fiona said finally. “Teddy.”

“You remember?”

She shrugged. “My mother weeping. Begging. My father’s voice.” She shuddered, hating that memory. “Teddy crying. And then… not.”

He’d only been a sennight old. The first of her family she’d lost. Teddy, then Ian, off to fight the wars, then mam, worn away like old shoes. And now, Mairead, who evidently no longer needed her.