Mary Jo Putney (15 page)

Buckley’s gaze scanned the room and halted. “That watercolor. It’s my wife’s work. She gave it to me as a wedding present.”

It was an undistinguished picture, so Buckley was probably telling the truth. “Take it. If your wife wants to know why you’ve been discharged so abruptly, tell her that the new earl is an ill-mannered boor who doesn’t want to keep on his father’s steward. It’s true, after all.”

“But—a kinder reason than the whole truth. Thank you,” Buckley said quietly as he lifted the picture from the wall. “You’re a better man than your father or brother.”

Rob had no idea how to reply to that, but Sarah said briskly, “That’s certainly true, Mr. Buckley. Now go forth and sin no more.”

Buckley jerked a short nod and left. Sarah exhaled as she folded into a chair. “That was interesting!”

“Indeed. Thank you for giving me the ammunition I needed.” Rob felt a pang of guilt when he saw how tired she was. “Do you mind keeping an eye on this office while I take the money to the house? I doubt Buckley will return, but if he does, one look at you and he’ll depart in haste.”

“He’ll not cause any more trouble,” she said confidently.

Rob removed the strongbox from the cabinet and emptied the contents, then placed the boxes of embezzled money inside. “Good that it’s not all gold, or I might not be able to lift this.”

“Five thousand pounds will make a huge amount of difference to the tenants.” Sarah wearily brushed back a strand of bright hair. “Assuming the money goes to farm improvement. There are surely other debts.”

Rob grimaced as he buckled the strongbox shut. “Within the week, I imagine the Kellington lawyer will send me a list of them. But I can’t think of anything that’s more important than improving the tenant farms. They generate the revenue, after all. Because it’s spring, the improvements can take effect this year.”

“Make sure you buy some of Coke of Norfolk’s breeding rams,” she said with a glint in her eye. “They really are the best.”

“I will,” he promised. “After I stash this in the house and ask Jonas to supervise Buckley’s departure, I’ll be back for you. I hope that the magic you worked in the kitchen means we’ll have a good dinner.”

“I believe so.” Sarah smothered a yawn. “The cook is quite pleased to have the new earl in residence, and she’s anxious to prove her skill.”

“I’ll have Hector find some good wines to go with the meal. If there is anything first-rate at Kellington, it will be the wine cellar,” he said dryly.

With Sarah’s laughter following, Rob left the office, the strongbox under one arm. His new circumstances were looking a bit less grim. Besides having a small fortune in cash, he looked forward to dining with Sarah at a candlelit table.

If he was really fortunate, his grandmother would choose to dine in her room.

 

 

Jonas was in the stable, and more than happy to see the back of Buckley. He promised to stay as late as necessary to help the family prepare to leave in the morning. Since Jonas knew them all, he’d ensure the process went smoothly.

Years before, Rob’s father had installed a safe in the ugly little study. Because Rob had always been a good observer, he knew where it was and how to open it, so it didn’t take long to stash the embezzled money safely.

When he returned to the steward’s office, Sarah was sitting at the desk and dozing with her head resting on her crossed arms. She straightened and gave him a sleepy smile, her brown eyes as warm and welcoming as hot chocolate.

What would it be like to see such a smile every morning over a pillow? Suppressing the thought, he said, “Everything is in order, and we can relax over a good dinner. My lady?” He offered his arm.

“Thank you, my lord.” She laid a small, light hand on his arm and they left the steward’s office.

Night had fallen, though the western horizon still glowed orange. Strange to think that just the day before, they’d been fighting for their lives on the voyage from Ireland. And Rob had been a contented Bow Street Runner instead of an unhappy earl.

As they climbed the steps to the main entrance, Sarah asked, “How long do you think it will be before my family learns that I’m safe? Surely no more than a day or two.”

“Perhaps as early as tomorrow evening. If not then, the day after. Wiltshire isn’t that far from Somerset.” He added, amused, “I wouldn’t be surprised if your parents and Ashton come swooping in to see for themselves that you’re all right.”

“I hope you won’t feel too overwhelmed if that happens,” she said with a chuckle. “Because it probably will. Maybe even Mariah. She might have just had a baby, but she’s very determined.”

“Having your family descend on Kellington will be a minor disruption compared to everything else that will be happening.” He swung open the heavy door and she glided through, as grand as any princess in her borrowed green velvet riding habit.

Rob followed. As he closed the door behind them, he found that they’d walked into a maelstrom. Lady Kellington stood at the foot of the stairs, her expression appalled, while Hector, the butler, was making ineffectual hand gestures as if he could dismiss the unpleasantness.

In the middle of the hall stood a roughly dressed old man who seemed vaguely familiar. His hand locked on the arm of a scrawny girl child with a ragged too-short dress, he snarled with a thick country accent, “I’m stayin’ here until his bloody lordship returns! He’ll bloody well take her, because she’s his! Damned if I’ll keep the little bastard under my roof any longer.”

The girl jerked free of his grip and spun around furiously. She was eleven or twelve, with a mass of tangled black hair falling to her waist. And blazing from her smudged face were light, clear blue eyes exactly like Rob’s.

“Bryony!” he breathed.

He had a daughter.

T
he girl looked so much like a miniature Bryony that Rob could barely breathe. She was like an enraged kitten, gallant and frightened and unutterably brave even in a terrifying new place when the only family she knew was throwing her away.

“He’s lying,” Lady Kellington snapped. “Don’t be a fool, boy, or you’ll have every bastard in Somerset landed on you!”

“She’s my daughter.” Eyes narrowed, Rob studied the old man. “I didn’t recognize you at first. You’re Owens, the shepherd. Bryony’s father. Where is she?”

“Dead,” the grizzled old man spat out. “Two years ago, and left me with her brat. She always claimed you were the father, but everyone thought you was dead so I was stuck with the little bastard. Since you’re here and alive, she’s yours. I wash my hands of her.” He stalked out the door and left with a window-rattling slam.

The furious kitten glared at Rob. “You’re my bloody father?”

Lady Kellington shuddered at the profanity, but Rob knelt on one knee in front of the girl, his gaze intense and his voice gentle, as if he was soothing a nervous horse.

“I am,” he said. “I didn’t know you existed. I loved your mother and we planned to marry, but my family interfered.”

“If you loved her so much, why didn’t you run off to Gretna Green when your bloody family disapproved?” she asked suspiciously.

If anyone deserved the truth, it was his daughter. “My father gave your mother money to leave me. I was about to search for her when my brother sold me to a press gang,” Rob said flatly. “I was forced onto a ship bound for India and didn’t see England again for six long years.”

Lady Kellington gasped. “Your brother would never do such an appalling thing!”

“I was there, Grandmother. You weren’t.” Rob got to his feet. His daughter looked wary and ready to bolt, so he kept some distance between them. “We haven’t been properly introduced. What’s your name?”

“Bree.” The girl’s eyes darted around the room as if seeking escape.

“That’s pretty. You’re named Bryony for your mother?”

Bree scowled and nodded. “Bryony is a useless weed, a clinging vine. That’s why my grandfather named my mother that.”

Rob managed to control his surge of fury. Owens had treated Bryony abominably, and it sounded as if he’d been equally bad to Bree.

“If you must acknowledge the brat,” Lady Kellington said with exasperation, “at least get her out of here quickly. Put her into service or find an apprenticeship.”

It was what he expected of his grandmother. “No. With her mother gone, Bree belongs with me.”

The old lady snorted. “You need to marry an heiress, and no decent woman will accept a man with bastards about the house.”

Sarah spoke up, voice calm but eyes flashing. “Nonsense. What decent woman would want a man who won’t take responsibility for his own child?”

Bree’s eyes slid back to Rob. “You want me to stay here?”

“Of course.” His gaze held hers. “If I’d known about you, I would have found my way back to Somerset much sooner.”

Sarah smiled warmly at the girl, who relaxed visibly. It was impossible to be frightened of Sarah. “You must be tired and hungry. With your father’s permission, I’ll find you a room and a bath and supper.”

“Of course. Make her comfortable,” Rob said, relieved that Sarah had stepped forward to look out for the girl.

His
daughter
. He’d had no idea that Bryony was with child when they were separated. She probably hadn’t known, either. But now that he knew they’d made a child, he felt fierce and utterly new emotions. Bree was
his,
and he’d protect her. “When Bree is settled for the night, come find me. I’ll be in the study, sorting through papers.”

“How fortunate that I asked you to have rooms prepared for visitors, Hector. We’ll use one for Lord Kellington’s daughter,” Sarah said. “Order bathwater and send Francie to join us.”

Looking relieved to be able to escape, Hector bowed. “Yes, miss. The Rose Room should be suitable for a . . . young lady.” He had some trouble referring to the new arrival as a young lady, but at least he was trying.

As Sarah led Bree away, Rob thought how dramatically his life had changed in a day. But this change was one he welcomed. Something of Bryony had survived.

 

 

As Sarah and Bree followed the butler up the stairs, the girl’s gaze darted around as she tried to absorb her new surroundings. She looked overwhelmed, and determined not to show it. Sarah guessed that Bree had learned to guard her emotions when living with her dreadful grandfather.

The Rose Room was next to Sarah’s bedchamber. Though it was as worn as the rest of Kellington Castle, the room had been cleaned and a fire was laid. Right after they entered, a maid followed with sheets to make up the canopy bed. Rose brocade hangings and a thick, slightly shabby Belgian carpet with more roses created a welcoming warmth. Bree’s eyes widened when she entered.

Hector lit the two lamps, then condescended to light the fire laid on the hearth himself rather than waiting for a lower servant to do the menial task. He bowed again. “I’ll send Francie and the bathwater up. Is there anything else, Miss Clarke-Townsend?”

“Supper on a tray, please. Bree, is there anything particular you’d like?”

The girl looked startled at having her wishes consulted. “Something hot. Mebbe a mutton stew? Or a meat pie?”

“I’m sure that Mrs. Fulton will have something equally satisfying. Be sure there is also bread and cheese and sweets, Hector. And perhaps a pot of hot tea?” Sarah glanced over at Bree, who nodded numbly.

Hector left and Bree drifted across the room to finger the brocade draperies on the bed. “I can really stay here tonight?”

“Indeed you can, and rather longer than that. I don’t speak for Lord Kellington, but it sounds like he plans for you to make your home here.”

Bree looked at her, the clear aquamarine eyes unnerving. “The butler didn’t call you Lady Kellington. Are you his lordship’s fancy piece?”

Sarah blinked. “No, I’m a friend. I was abducted from my home and taken to Ireland. Lord Kellington rescued me and brought me back to England yesterday.” Was it really only yesterday they’d arrived here? It seemed much longer. “I’ll be going home in a few days.” Home was going to look very boring after a fortnight in Rob’s company. “You can call me Sarah.”

Bree frowned, looking so much like Rob that Sarah wanted to laugh. “Why was he rescuing you? Lords don’t do anything useful.”

“Rob wasn’t Lord Kellington then. He was a Bow Street Runner in London. His job was to catch criminals and find stolen people and property,” Sarah explained. “His family treated him so badly that he turned his back on them. It wasn’t until we washed up here that he learned his father and brother died recently, so Rob is the new earl.”

“His folks sound almost as bad as bloody Owens.” Her face twisted into an expression that was not young at all. “I’m glad the old bugger is gone. Would have done nasty things to me if I’d let him.”

Sarah winced. Thank God Bree had been able to defend herself, but it was regrettable that she’d picked up her grandfather’s vile language. “Did you and your mother live with him your whole life?”

Bree shook her head. “Me mum had money from the old lord, and she was a good seamstress, too. We had a cottage in a village just down the coast, Bendan. ’Twasn’t till she died and Owens came to get me that I met the old bugger. He took Mum’s money and sold the furnishings. Said it was due him for taking care of me.”

“Perhaps it was. You and your mother lived comfortably?”

“Oh, aye!” Bree looked wistful. “We had plenty to eat and Mum made me the prettiest dresses. She sent me to a dame school so I could learn reading and writing and numbers. I had friends.”

Until she’d been hauled into the lonely hills by her grandfather. At least she’d had a decent life before that. “Did your mother ever talk about your father?”

“Mum said her Rob was a fine handsome fellow who asked her to marry him, but she knew his family would never allow it so she took money to go away. Later she heard that he’d disappeared. She thought his brother had murdered him.”

Bryony sounded admirably direct. No wonder Rob had loved her. “Not murdered, but close enough. His family was horrified by the idea that he wanted to marry a shepherd’s daughter.”

“What’s m’father like?” Bree regarded her with that unnerving gaze again.

How best to describe Rob? “He’s strong and very brave. He rescued me from the middle of a group of Irish radicals.” Sarah thought of how Rob had handled Buckley. “He’s intelligent and honest and fair. He believes injustice, but he’s also kind.” Certainly he’d been kind to her. “He’ll make you a very good father, I’m sure.”

“Does he really want me?” Bree sounded wistful again. “Or is he going to apprentice me to a milliner like that old bawd wanted?”

Sarah wondered how the countess would react to being called a bawd. “Oh, he wants you,” she said softly. “When he realized you were his daughter, he looked like he’d been given a piece of heaven. It will take time for you to get to know each other, of course. Just remember that he’s nervous about you, just as you’re nervous about him.”

Bree stroked the china washbasin. “I didn’t know I had a father.”

The door opened and Francie entered, a smile on her face. “Such excitement! So his lordship has a daughter?”

“Yes, isn’t it splendid?” Sarah made the introductions, then asked, “Can you find some clothing that will fit Bree?”

“A nightgown is easy, and I can find a shift and morning dress. Shall I have the village seamstress come tomorrow to take her measurements for a basic wardrobe?”

“Yes, and a shoemaker. Anything and everything a young lady will need.” There might not be much money, but there should be enough to outfit the new earl’s daughter.

The door opened again and two servants entered with canisters of steaming water. As Bree stared at the luxury, Francie said in a conspiratorial voice, “I can get you lavender-scented soap if you’d like, Miss Bree.”

“Oh, yes. A whole tub of hot water!” Bree looked dazed and very, very tired, but on the whole, she was managing well. By the time Francie returned with the lavender soap and other toiletries, the tub was filled and the footmen had withdrawn.

Francie clucked her tongue. “Miss Sarah, you look almost as tired as Miss Bree. You run along and get some supper while I take care of the new member of the family.”

Sarah hesitated. She was exhausted, but she didn’t want Rob’s daughter to feel abandoned. “Will you be all right, Bree? I can stay if you like.”

“No need.” The girl smiled wearily. “A bath and a bite of supper and a bed are more than I dreamed of.”

“I’ll see you in the morning then.” On impulse, Sarah gave Bree a quick hug. The girl’s arms went around her and Sarah realized she was shaking. How long had it been since Bree had known kindness? Probably not since her mother died.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered. “Your new life has begun.”

A life that would remind Rob every time he saw his daughter of the woman he’d loved and lost.