Maggie MacKeever (18 page)

Phyllida ignored this sarcasm. “It’s really quite simple.” She wished she’d brought her needlework. “Babies and young children don’t really look much like anyone. It wouldn’t have been until recently that the relationship became obvious.”

“Then why didn’t anyone else see it?” persisted Charles, suspiciously. Phyllida sighed.

“These people know how you look and they know how Dillian looks. They don’t expect to see a resemblance, and so they don’t. That’s the way people are; haven’t you ever overlooked a friend in a strange place simply because you didn’t expect to see him there?” One couldn’t afford such lapses in his kind of work, but Charles couldn’t very well say so. He remained silent.

“It’s not an overwhelming likeness,” continued practical Phyllida, “but it should be obvious to anyone who knows either of you well. I suspected as soon as I laid eyes on Dillian, and Loveday knew when she first saw you. The coloring is the same and you have various mannerisms in common.”

“The deuce!” Charles was stricken. He’d seen quite a bit of Dillian in her childhood, but had never suspected that she might be laid at his door. After all, the girl’s mother had dispensed her favors rather freely.

“I suppose her mother had an eye to the main chance,” Loveday mused, following a similar train of thought, “when she claimed the child belonged to the castle.”

“More to the point,” said Phyllida, “what do you plan to do about her, Charles?”

Charles regarded his love with a jaundiced eye. He began to suspect that Jasper had done him a great favor by interfering with that long-ago elopement. “I’ll make provisions for the girl,” he replied carefully, “but you can’t expect that I’ll take her to my father and present her as my misplaced by-blow! He’d be likely to cut me off without a penny.”

“Heaven forbid,” murmured Phyllida, and Charles shot her a look that approached dislike. Loveday hastened to intervene.

“I think it would be wise,” she suggested, “if you allowed Dillian to make her home with me.”

“You’ll make her a generous allowance, of course,” Phyllida added, “and attend to a handsome settlement. The matter can be attended to quite discreetly; I know of an excellent firm.”

“Settlement?” repeated Charles faintly.

“Of course. You wouldn’t want her to go to her husband without a dowry, would you?”

“Husband?” Charles experienced a definite feeling of impending doom. “She’s but a child! Aren’t you being a trifle premature?”

“She was seventeen a few days ago,” Loveday said firmly. “You will not wish her to be presented, I daresay, but she should make her social debut at my ball.”

“You expect me to acknowledge her?” Charles demanded. “I have told you I cannot!”

“Not as your daughter,” Phyllida explained. “An orphaned cousin, perhaps, whose identity had to remain secret for some reason. I make no doubt your mother will hit on something. She is an admirable woman. She’ll bring your father around.” Charles stared at her, speechless.

“Isolda will also have to know the truth.”

Charles’s mouth opened and closed several times before he found his tongue. “You cannot be serious.”

Any hoped he might have cherished along those lines was quickly dashed.  “I have this morning dispatched a letter to your mother,” Phyllida said. “She will be expecting to hear from you.”

“You will also wish to speak with Dillian,” Loveday added. “Disabuse her of the notion that she is tainted with Vere blood, and my brother will be forever in your debt.”

Never had Charles met such schemers, not even in the pursuit of his chosen avocation. “Your brother?”

“The potential husband,” Phyllida explained. Charles turned on his heel and left them without another word.

“Do you really think he’ll acquiesce to this scheme?” Loveday asked, when their victim was out of earshot.

“Charles is an honorable man,” replied her friend. “He will do the proper thing. And he knows if he does not, I will spread the story all over London. It would do his career no good.”

“Career?”

“Never mind.” Phyllida changed the subject. “I have been considering our return to London, and I think it would be best if the three of you took up residence with Adolphus and me.”

“Phyllida!”

Phyllida ignored the interruption. “The house is monstrous large, you know; we needn’t be forever in each other’s laps.”

“I could not so impose upon you.”

“Pay me room and board then!” Phyllida retorted crudely. “Pray don’t be a goosecap, Loveday. It will take time to set up your own establishment. For one thing, you must find a suitable older female to reside with you. I daresay I could discover one among Adolphus’s innumerable relatives.”

“This is very good of you.”

“Piffle! My reasons are selfish, as you should know. You shall bear me company when I am forced to withdraw from society, and keep me informed of the latest scandals; Dillian will no doubt prove excellent with the children, being little more than one herself; and Jem, I pray, may be able to inspire Adolphus with an interest in his own land. What could be better?”

Loveday laughed. “Dillian will be more likely to fill your children’s heads with tales of ghosts and magic.”

“Anything as long as it keeps them quiet!” their fond mother retorted. Loveday reflected that the Asshetons’ kindly intended interference in her situation had made it nigh impossible for her to leave the castle before she came of age. Loveday Fairchild, considerable heiress and acknowledged social belle, could not hire herself out as a governess or scullery maid. All the same, she admittedly felt safer with the indomitable Phyllida so near.

Loveday screwed up her courage. “Phyl, did you mind so much? Charles, I mean?”

Phyllida had long ago decided that Adolphus was well worth the having, despite his various indiscretions. She smiled at her friend. “It’s no more than he deserves, since he was obviously trysting with village maidens when he was allegedly nourishing a fatal passion for me.”

“ ‘Oh heaven,’ ” murmured Loveday. “ ‘Were man but constant, he were perfect.’ ”

“Indeed,” agreed Phyllida. “The best part of a flirtation is knowing when to end it. I admit that this finale lacked my usual finesse, but I am sadly out of practice. Charles will make an easy recover, all the same.”

* * * *

Charles would not have agreed. He was, as Phyllida had claimed, an honorable man, and had no intention of shirking his responsibilities, though he would have preferred to provide for his suddenly-discovered offspring in a less conspicuous way. He found Averil in the study.

Averil was surprised to find his languid friend uncharacteristically distraught. “What’s amiss?”

Charles took a quick turn around the room before confronting Averil. “I suppose you knew,” he said through clenched teeth, “the truth of Dillian’s paternity.”

Averil laughed. “So that’s it! Of course I knew, how could I not?”

“Why didn’t you inform me of the fact?”

Averil stared at Charles with dawning comprehension. “I thought you wanted no part of her,” he replied slowly. “Forgive me, I should have known that was not the case.”

“And I suspect your grandmother shares this titillating piece of information?”

“No. I think she would not despise the girl so greatly if she knew the truth of the matter. As it is, her loathing is so fierce that she seldom looks upon her.”

“Why did you not inform her?” Charles asked with some surprise.

“I told you, I did not think you wanted it known. What has suddenly removed the scales from your eyes?”

Charles regaled his host with an unexpurgated version of his interview. To his disgust, Averil roared with merriment.

“They have you over a barrel!” Averil said, when he had regained his breath. “Don’t worry about my grandmother, I’ll see that she indulges you in this scheme. I think it will serve very well, though I am curious to learn what reason you plan to give for so long concealing Dillian’s identity.” Charles growled and strode from the room. Averil’s laughter followed him.

Charles found Dillian near the castle’s ruined wing. His anger drained away from him at the sight of that frail figure. Her birth was none of her doing, but his and that of the trollop who had been her mother. It could not have been an easy life for the girl, growing up alone in this desolate place.

“What are you doing?” he asked. Dillian’s arms were filled with wild blossoms.

“Gathering flowers for Loveday.” Charles thought it typical of her that she scorned the garden’s carefully tended blooms.

“I’m your father,” he announced abruptly, then paused, aghast. It wasn’t what he’d meant to say.

“I know.” Dillian remained calm. “Jem told me.”

Charles, disregarding his immaculate apparel, sat down abruptly on the hillside and stared at his elfin daughter. “I suppose you find it hard to credit that I’ve only discovered this today.”

“Not at all,” she replied cheerfully. “I had to have it explained to me, too.”

She’s a changeling, Charles thought, and promptly fell under her spell.

“Won’t you sit beside me?” he asked, and Dillian obediently settled herself by his side. Charles was surprised at himself; he’d meant only to have a quick, businesslike talk with the girl, and then make his escape.

“Do you mind dreadfully?” Dillian asked, with one of her quick sideways looks. Strange to see his eyes in another’s face.

“No,” he replied, and was startled to find that this was true. “Do you?”

“Not at all.”

Charles experienced an unreasonable gratification. “Would you like to reside with Loveday? She wants you. I’m going to arrange for an allowance, so you needn’t feel dependent on anyone.” He was startled to find her gazing at him with something akin to horror. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Don’t you wish to be independent?”

“I do not wish to be an object of charity,” Dillian stated with awful clarity. “I have had quite enough of that. I would like very much to live with Loveday, but you needn’t feel obliged to provide for me.”

“You are my daughter,” Charles said slowly, “and I wish to hear no more talk of charity. For various reasons, I cannot acknowledge you, but I intend to see you adequately provided for. I do not feel that I must do this, I want to do it. Do you understand?”

Dillian nodded.

“I have to be out of the country a great deal, at least at the present. When you and Loveday remove to London, I hope to be permitted to call. Perhaps you will even allow me to show you the town.”

His daughter lifted shining eyes. “I should like that of all things!” she whispered.

“Perhaps,” said Charles gruffly, “I may even someday be allowed to dandle my unacknowledged grandchildren upon my creaking knee!”

Chapter 12

Theophilus
Tierney would have given a great deal to know who had transported his unconscious body to the hayrick where he awakened. It wasn’t only the ignominy of the thing that angered him; he suffered from an extremely unpleasant allergy to hay. It was just one more debt the Fairchild brat owed him and Theo, by God, meant to have the account settled in full.

Theo was correctly attired for a morning call, in a blue coat, breeches of a fashionable yellow, polished top-boots, hat and gloves. His cravat was a masterpiece of intricate folds; the high points of his shirt collar were so superbly starched that he found it difficult to turn his head. To complete the outfit, Theo had judiciously added a handkerchief and snuffbox, his quizzing glass, and a handsome malacca cane.

To take the enemy by surprise was Theo’s motto and aim, and he sauntered toward the castle door. He’d no doubt he’d be granted admittance; Isolda was a beldam, but too much the lady to turn him away. And once inside that massive portal, anything could transpire. The old woman might even be brought to see the wisdom of his arguments and turn Loveday over to him, though he wasn’t banking on that.

“Good morning!” he said cheerfully, as the heavy door creaked open. “A caller for the Duchess of Chesshire, my good man.” With a flourish, he extended a calling card.

It was Theo’s great misfortune that Tarbath was occupied elsewhere, for Jem had taken it upon himself to open the door, and Jem wasted little time on words. Before Theo had time to realize more than who confronted him, he was unconscious again. As Jem claimed, he had a very handy bunch of fives, and the added element of surprise.

“Well done!” approved Jasper, coming up behind Jem. “The question now is, what will we do with him? The man’s a confounded nuisance.”

“I’d like to send him to China,” Jem growled.

“A splendid idea! But perhaps France would be a more practical choice of destination.”

“Are you hoaxing me?” Jem inquired suspiciously.

“Not at all! I have connections. The business wouldn’t be at all difficult to arrange, providing that my father will loan us Dipper for the purpose. Dipper is an invaluable ally, being completely unscrupulous.”

“The deuce!” ejaculated Averil, coming upon this startling scene. “What is that damned jackanapes doing on my doorstep?”

“He had an unfortunate collision,” Jasper explained, “with Jem’s fist. We were just now discussing the advantages of sending him to France.”

“France? Why?”

“I’m growing very tired of the man,” Jasper apologized, “and it might prove a salutary lesson. I am also curious to see if this current rash of strange occurrences might diminish during Theo’s absence. But I begin to wonder if our friends across the sea might not consider him a spy.”

Averil grinned with wicked glee.

“Would they shoot him?” Jem asked. His notions of international politics were vague but he drew the line at any responsibility for someone’s death, even so despicable a creature as Theo.

“I doubt it, for Theo’s a slippery creature, and he has family there.” Averil smiled. “I should like to hear his explanation of so precipitate an arrival, however; he’ll never admit to so demeaning a thing as the truth.”

“More to the point,” Jasper remarked, with a touch of his father’s arrogance and the fine unconcern of a titled gentleman for one of less exalted birth, “he’ll be safely out of our way for a time. I admit I find the notion delightful.”