Goddess Born (30 page)

It took every ounce of restraint to walk away. Ducking behind the nearest tree, I dressed quickly before either of us had a chance to reconsider, even managing the ties by myself. Once I finished, we started along the path toward home. Returned from the Otherworld, I was anxious to learn the other reason why we couldn’t marry yet.

“I’m famished,” Henry said as we arrived at the front door. “I’ll speak to Karta directly about our picnic. Do you have any preferences?”

I took off my straw hat and tossed it on a side table. “Roasted chicken, if there’s any left over, and pickled beet.”

Mary bustled into the foyer to meet us. “There’s a gentleman waiting, ma’am,” she said nervously. “He’s asking to speak with Lord Fitzalan. I’ve told him there’s no one here by that name, but he insisted on staying until ye returned.”

“Where is he?” Henry asked, his voice suddenly tense.

“In the drawing room, sir.”

We hadn’t gone a single step before a young man hurried toward Henry. “My Lord!” Thank God I’ve finally found you! All this time I feared you were dead.”

“James!” Henry said, excitement lighting his face. “How did you know where to find me?”

“One of your cousin’s accomplices. Two weeks after you left he had a change of heart and confessed everything. An arrest warrant was issued, but word reached him and he fled across the channel into France.”

Henry put a hand on James’ shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. James nodded slowly and looked at me.

“Selah,” Henry said, turning to me. “This is my dear friend, Mr. James Roth. He’s just arrived from England.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” I said with a small curtsy.

“And you, ma’am,” James said, bowing politely.

“Mary, will you please show Mr. Roth upstairs to a room,” Henry asked. “He’ll be staying at Brighmor awhile.”

“Yes, sir,” Mary said and started for the stairs.

James shot Henry a quizzical look. “But, sir,” he protested. “I promised your father we would sail immediately for England.”

“I’ve business to take care of first,” Henry said. “Go upstairs and settle in. I’ll be up shortly to talk.”

Offering no further protest, James turned and followed Mary.

“Would you mind if we postpone our picnic?” Henry asked once they were gone. “I need to speak with James.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Well,
my lord
, we should have just enough time to talk while James settles into his room.”

He looked like he was about to object then changed his mind. “All right, but not in here.”

I grabbed my hat and followed him back outside, around the side of the house and toward the barn. It was difficult not to let loose a barrage of questions on the spot, and I only held back due to the effort it took to keep up with his long strides. My restraint lasted until we reached the far side of the barn and were out of sight of Brighmor. “When did you plan on telling me who you really are?” I demanded testily.

He leaned casually against the towering wooden wall of the barn. “This afternoon on our picnic. I had hoped to first soften your mood with a basket of food and promises of my eternal devotion.”

So, this was his deep, dark secret. “James called you Lord Fitzalan. Is there any merit to that title?”

Henry sighed resignedly. “My real name is Henry Goderic Fitzalan. My father is the Duke of Norland. Before my mother died, she was a Margravine of Brandenburg-Ansbach and half sister to Queen Caroline.”

I gawked at him, shocked. “What does that make you?”

Henry pushed away from the barn and bowed deeply. “Lord Pompous and heir apparent to the Duke of High and Mighty, at your service, madam.”

I blushed at hearing my own words delivered in Henry’s deep voice. “Will you please be serious?”

“And favored nephew to King George II,” Henry said, ignoring my reprimand as he added to his pedigree. “It’s not an official title, mind you, but the benefits at court are extraordinary.”

The missing pieces fell tightly into place. “That’s why the King is so interested in your marriage.”

“Being his nephew has something to do with it,” he said indifferently. “Mostly it’s because I’m supposed to be betrothed to his second daughter, the Princess Amelia.”

A tight knot formed in my throat. Henry was betrothed to a princess. Just looking at him, I should have known this other woman had to be spectacular. But a princess...

“My mother and Queen Caroline were very close, and our marriage was spoken of soon after Amelia’s birth. For my father’s part, he’s a very wealthy and powerful man in England. The King favored the marriage as a means to ensure his loyalty to the crown.”

It couldn’t be true. Just over a week ago Henry had been under contract as my servant. “But you were indentured,” I said, finding my voice at last. “How could this happen to someone of your position?”

“The result of a family quarrel. As the only son, I stand to inherit my father’s land and title upon his death. A cousin of mine is next in line to the dukedom, and didn’t find this situation to his liking. He hired a group of men to have me killed. It was by good fortune that they were extremely greedy and decided to profit twice. First from my cousin and then from Captain Harlow.”

His words turned my stomach to ice. “If the contract was illegal, why did you agree to sail to the Colonies?”

“I was in no condition to protest. The men doused my clothing with whiskey and beat me unconscious. We were two days out to sea when I finally came around.”

“But, the captain is a man of honor. You should have told him who you were.”

Henry smiled weakly. “I did. So many times that he finally had me locked in the brig.”

“He didn’t believe you?”

“Selah, if you had seen me at the time, you wouldn’t have believed me either. I was bruised all over from fighting and my clothing had been changed for the coarsest of garments. What else was the captain to think when I was brought on board reeking of spirits? He’s been trading indentures for thirty years. I’m sure there isn’t a story he hasn’t heard yet from people trying to get out of their contracts. After two weeks in the brig, I decided to stop protesting and bide my time until we got to the Colonies.”

I glared at him, my hands held tautly at my side to keep from pounding them against his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me when we first met?”

“I considered it, but there was a good chance you would have thought I was lying. You might have returned me to the captain or, worse, handed me over to Fletcher.” He glanced down at his feet. “My best chance of escape was with you.”

To be certain, there had been ample opportunities for him to run away from Hopewell. “Then why did you stay?” I asked, both relieved and sickened from this latest confession. Kidnapped and indentured against his will, it was beyond my comprehension that he had remained a single day.

“The first night at Brighmor, I was determined to leave. After evening meal I went out for a walk to start plotting my escape. I had planned to take a horse from your stables and somehow get to Boston where my father has friends.” He reached over and took my hand. Uncurling my fingers, he laced them in between his own. “But I couldn’t get you out of my mind. We had barely known each other two days, and I was already falling in love. I returned to Brighmor that night under the pretense of needing more time to prepare, when in truth I wanted to see you again.”

“I suspected something was up. That’s why I locked you in your room.”

Henry laughed. “I was so angry, but the next night I still couldn’t leave. Then Nathan paid a visit to Brighmor, and I convinced myself that you needed me, that it was my duty to stay and help.”

“You’ve been here for six weeks. You should have told me sooner.”

“I already knew your opinion of the titled class. If you found out, I was sure you would have decided against me without ever knowing my character.”

He was probably right. I had no love for the English peerage. It was hard-earned family tradition.

“I know you’ve good reason to hate the nobility,” he said. “But I hope this doesn’t change your feelings for me.”

My mind was a jumble of thoughts. For all I knew, Henry’s family had been directly involved in stealing my father’s land and forcing him into exile. It didn’t matter that Henry wasn’t even alive during the last Rebellion, as a titled Englishman he was guilty by association. A transported criminal would have been preferable.

Oh
,
why couldn’t you have just been a convicted highwayman or a pirate like Nora’s grandfather?

I should have hated Henry to my very core—I owed it to my ancestors after all they suffered at the hands of the English. But I couldn’t. My heart was already his.

Henry held fast to my hand, anxious for an answer.

“I love you, Henry. That will never change.” Everything else had changed though, the moment James Roth stepped foot in Brighmor. There remained one way for us to be together, and Henry would never consent to renounce his former life and remain in the Colonies.

His face relaxed as he let out a deep breath. “Promise you’ll marry me.”

Tears stung the back of my eyes from the inevitable course of our conversation. “I can promise all I like, but it means nothing. The King isn’t going to let you out of the contract with his daughter.”

“He will once I explain how my father signed it without my consent—”

“I’m Irish Catholic!” I cried. “It’s against the law for us to marry in England!”

“You’re only half Catholic,” he reminded me. “Popery laws have always been a matter of convenience. The King has discretion to grant exceptions, especially for his favorite nephew.”

I looked at him warily. There was more than one law in need of the King’s exception. “Have you considered that I’m a commoner in your world?” I asked, cringing slightly from the repugnant designation. Never before had I thought of myself in this way.

Henry smiled at me. “A lady once told me that titles are nothing more than manmade conventions, created only to divide the classes and place one person above another.”

He had the uncanny ability of recalling my words at the most inconvenient times to make his point.

“Besides,” he continued, “you are the direct descendant of a goddess. Not even the King can make such a claim.”

“We would both be locked away if you ever told him.”

“I’ve no intention of telling him anything other than how I feel about you. He’ll agree when he’s heard my case.”

The final judgment loomed before us. A week ago I had nearly given up my birthright to be with Henry. Standing face-to-face, my chest tightened while I waited to hear if he would do the same for me. “And what if he doesn’t?”

Henry remained silent for a moment while he considered the possibility. “Then I will renounce my title and leave England for good.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “You would do that for me?”

He pressed my hand to his chest, directly over his heart. “On my honor, I’ll do whatever it takes to have you.” The tenderness in his eyes was suddenly overshadowed by uncertainty. “That is, if you’ll still have me.”

My own heart felt as though it would burst. “Yes, Henry. I’ll have you.”

He looked at me in earnest. “Even if I’m stripped of rank and fortune and forced to beg my bread in the streets?”

“Those things mean nothing to me.” Feeling light as air, I rose up onto my tiptoes and kissed him.

In truth, I would have loved him all the more for it.

Chapter Nineteen

Judgment by Fire

Following evening meal, James joined Henry and me in the small sitting room to discuss some last minute details before they left to meet Nathan and Teme in the forest. A trusted friend and Henry’s private secretary, he had already been told all that had occurred during the past six weeks. Or nearly all.

He knew that I had purchased Henry’s contract as a countermeasure against Nathan Crowley, and that we had been pretending to be married ever since. He also knew that someone wanted me dead, and had made two attempts already on my life this summer. What he didn’t know was my true identity. According to Henry’s amended version of the facts, this unknown assailant held a bitter grudge against my family, most likely stemming from my father’s time as a sea merchant.

Upon hearing our plan to apprehend the killer, James had offered his own services. I was certainly grateful, though gauging by his comments I gathered his willingness came more from loyalty to Henry than any real concern for my safety.

“Ben will also be joining us in the forest tonight,” Henry said, once we were seated. “With the five of us, we may be able to devise a more active strategy other than hiding in ditches and watching the abandoned dairy.” All this waiting had proved even more trying for Henry than for myself.

I picked up a book and thumbed restlessly through the pages. “I wish it wasn’t necessary to put more people in danger on my account.”

Henry moved closer to me on the sofa. Reaching up, he brushed a finger along my cheek. “It’s our duty to protect you.”

James watched us uncomfortably. Unsurprisingly, out of everything he had heard today, it was Henry’s choosing me over Princess Amelia that he had found most shocking.

“Are you sure you won’t join us for the meeting?” Henry asked me. “I would feel better if you were nearby.”

“I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. Other than Karta, who went to her sister’s home every Sunday night, Brighmor was bustling with servants. “There are three maids about the house and Mrs. Ryan never retires before ten.”

“That is little consolation, considering how one of them is working against you,” he said dryly.

“Maybe so, but one deceitful wench is hardly a match to three faithful servants. I’ll be plenty safe while you’re gone.”

Henry gave me a dubious look, clearly unimpressed by my logic.

“And you know that Nora could be stopping by,” I added, lest he insist I join him in the woods. “I’m already in enough trouble for not telling her more today. She’ll not speak to me for a month if she comes over and finds me out.”

Mary entered, carrying a glass of wine on a small tray, which she set on a side table next to me. “Would ye like anything else, ma’am?” she asked.

“No thank you, Mary. The wine is all.”

She curtsied and left the room, but not without stealing a quick look at James. Though not near as handsome as Henry, he possessed a nicely shaped face, and looked rather dashing with his light brown eyes and fair hair tied back at the nape of his neck. And he seemed to have a pleasant disposition, not that he was particularly inclined toward me at the moment.

I lifted the glass and took a sip of the dark red liquid. “You see,” I said, smiling at Henry, “I am quite well taken care of. I’ll stay in here and read until you return.”

“You’ve no intentions of leaving the house?”

“I won’t even leave this room if that will make you feel better,” I promised. “Unless, of course a patient needs my help, or Nora wants to go for a walk.”

Henry let out an exasperated sigh. “How am I supposed to keep you safe if I don’t even know where you’ll be? Please stay in the house. That’s all I ask.”

His expression was a combination of worry and frustration. “Fine, no walks with Nora. But you know I can’t turn away a patient.”

His green eyes bore into mine as he weighed the merit of my claim. “All right.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before standing. “We’ll be gone no longer than an hour. Send one of the stable boys to find us if there’s any sign of trouble.”

“It’s near dusk,” James said, frowning at us. “The other men will be waiting.”

Henry nodded and started toward the door. “Be careful,” he told me.

With a half-empty wine glass in one hand and a book in the other, I wasn’t sure how much more careful I could be. I just smiled rather than goad him further. Content with my response, he followed James from the room.

I took a long drink of wine and leaned back into the sofa.
That’s a poor start
,
indeed
. James was as common as me under the English class system. If he didn’t approve of our match, there was little chance anyone else would.

While I mulled over this newest trouble, Alice slipped into the room. She stood near the hearth, staring at me in a state of great agitation.

“Is there something the matter, Alice?”

“Beg yer pardon, ma’am,” she said nervously. “I’ve been hiding in the hallway till the gentlemen left, so to speak with ye.” She fell silent and started wringing her hands.

I sat quietly as well, nearly holding my breath while I waited for her to continue. Such anxiety could only mean one thing—she was about to make good on our deal. After weeks of waiting, my heart sped up from how close I was to knowing the truth.

The nervous silence stretched on so long, I had to force myself not to rush over and shake the poor girl for answers. “Alice,” I prodded instead, “have you discovered who’s been gossiping?”

She nodded, her eyes growing rounder by the second. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, her voice so high, she practically squeaked the words.

My fingers gripped the book in nervous anticipation. “Will you please tell me what you know?”

She nodded again. “I’ve no proof, ma’am but sure as day she’s been spreading yer secrets.” Each word sounded a burden, and she had to stop to clear her throat.

I felt a sudden tightness in my own throat. “Who is it, Alice?”

“It’s not like ye think.” Alice glanced uneasily toward the door, then back at me. “This girl, she don’t mean ye no harm.”

Merciful saints!
How long were we supposed to go on in this manner? “Stop beating about the bush and tell me what you know.”

She flinched from my words. “Well...I...I think she’s...”

Just then, Mary came into the room, making us both jump.

“Pardon, ma’am,” she said, curtsying in my direction. “Alice is needed in the kitchen.”

“Whatever for?” I asked, perturbed by the interruption.

“Mrs. Ryan wants a barrel of cider from the cellar. It’s too much for Evie and me to get up the stairs by ourselves. We tried and little Evie almost got a pounding.”

“Please tell Mrs. Ryan that Alice will be there shortly.”

Mary hesitated. “Beg yer pardon, ma’am, but with Karta gone to town, Mrs. Ryan’s in a fury to get the kitchen ready for morning meal. She insisted Alice come directly.”

“Oh, very well,” I huffed. “Alice, go help move the barrel and then come back.”

Alice bolted from the room without so much as a curtsy. Mary followed closely on her heels, leaving me alone once more. I glanced at the book in my lap, at the white tension in my knuckles. Releasing my grip, I flipped open the cover, in need of a diversion until Alice returned.

I had barely reached the end of the first paragraph when I yawned unexpectedly. Feeling a bit bleary-eyed, I gave my neck and back a good stretch to ward off the sudden fatigue. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and I looked up to see Mary coming back into the room.

“Is the barrel moved then?” I asked.

Mary stopped near the hearth. “Yes, ma’am, it’s all ready for the morrow.”

“Where is Alice? I expected her back immediately.”

“Mrs. Ryan sent her to fetch some wood for the stove.”

I yawned again and rubbed my eyes, trying not to begrudge Mrs. Ryan the extra help. Surely a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s getting awfully dark outside,” Mary said. “Would ye like more candles lit?”

Quite without warning, I was seized by an intense dizzy spell. I tried to focus on Mary, but my eyes had come unhinged and refused to work properly. When two Marys appeared near the hearth, I squeezed my eyelids shut, hoping to dispel the bout of double vision. Peeking through my lashes, I found both Marys remaining, though somewhat askew as the floor had bent upwards beneath their feet. Or maybe it was the walls that had moved. Whichever the reason, the Marys appeared to be standing at a significant slant in defiance to everything Sir Isaac Newton had ever written about gravity. Alarmed by the sight, I shook my head in an attempt to return the room and Mary to their proper order. It worked at first, but after a few seconds the maid divided back into two as the floor began to move again.

Mary watched me curiously. “Would ye like more candles lit?” she asked, repeating her previous question.

“Yes, please,” I mumbled and glanced back at my book. Not that this was any better. The words squirmed like insects on the page, moving in and out of focus. I blinked several times and then looked again. But the black type wouldn’t hold still no matter how hard I concentrated. Giving up, I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the sofa.

“Are you feeling unwell, ma’am?” I heard Mary ask. She seemed to be standing just above me, though her voice sounded like she spoke from the far end of a tunnel.

My tongue had grown too thick for speech and my eyelids felt like lead curtains. Nearby, I heard the tinkling of breaking glass.

Someone else had joined us and was talking to Mary. A man, I thought from the tenor of his voice, though it sounded like he, too, spoke through a tunnel. He wanted something moved and asked for her help.

I really needed to look up and see who it was, but my body had become a dead weight, completely useless to my commands. The book slid from my lap, landing on the floor with a thud. A faint warning echoed deep inside my head, only to be silenced as sleep moved closer, pushing me further into the darkness.

I just needed to rest for a moment. Then I would send for Henry.

* * *

The sound of knocking coaxed me slowly from sleep. Forcing my eyes to open, I took in the familiar surroundings of my bedchamber. The canopy blurred in and out of focus above me, confirming that I was lying on the bed.

“Go away, Mary,” a man said irritably from my far right. “There is nothing more for you to do here.”

“Ye promised not to hurt her!” Mary cried, her voice muffled by the closed door.

“I’m trying to save her, you fool! Leave me be before it’s too late.”

His words were immediately followed by Mary’s heavy footsteps, retreating down the stairs.

A single candle flickered near the bed, leaving the rest of the room in darkness. My head reeled, and I had to make a conscious effort to stay awake.

“I see Mary’s knocking has disturbed your sleep,” the man said, a disembodied voice speaking from the shadows.

My mouth felt dry and my lips moved clumsily when I tried to speak. “Who are you?” The words came out in a slur. “What do you want with me?”

The man circled to the end of my bed and stepped into the candle’s soft light. “Surely, you recognize me, my dear girl.”

I blinked several times to help steady my vision as old Edgar Sweeney’s face came into view. A relieved breath rushed from my throat at the sight of his gentle eyes and paternal smile. “Oh, Edgar, I must have fallen asleep downstairs. Did you help Mary bring me to bed?”

“That I did,” he said kindly. “And you’re a might bit heavier than when you were a little girl.”

Flat on my back, I felt my arms and legs splayed out into an ungainly
X
. Wanting to sit up, I tried to turn onto my side, but found even this simple movement impossible. I arched my neck for a closer look and saw my wrists had been fettered to the bedposts. From what I could tell, my ankles had suffered a similar fate.

Confusion overtook me and I yanked at the bindings. “Why have I been tied up?”

He watched my struggles with a look of unveiled sympathy. “For your own good.”

I had heard medical anecdotes of patients needing to be restrained for violent behavior. Fearing this may have happened to me, I tried to think back, but had no recollection since falling asleep on the sofa. Even so, he could surely see that my senses had returned and I no longer posed a danger.

Edgar bent down to pick up an unlit oil lamp, similar to those stored downstairs in the pantry. He carefully removed the shade and began to dribble the oil near my right foot, onto Henry’s folded quilt. Bewildered by this action, I tried to prop up on my shoulder blades for a better look and accidentally caught my toes on the quilt, knocking it from the bed. Edgar fumbled the lamp, managing to pour oil on both of us in his attempt to catch the quilt.

“Gadzooks, Selah!” he said sharply. “Hold still. I’ve just spilled all over my coat.”

I laid my head back on the mattress, a bit shaken by the tone of his voice. It wasn’t as if I had a lot of control in my present condition. “I’m sorry, Edgar. If you would untie me then I wouldn’t be such a nuisance.”

He ducked out of sight as he bent down to push the quilt under the bed. “I’ve every intention of setting you free,” he said, standing back up to his full height. “Just like I did for Sarah and Elizabeth.”

I blinked again, trying to clear the grogginess from my head.
Sarah and Elizabeth
...The names circled just beyond my reach. “Do you mean my mother and grandmother? What do they have to do with this?”

“Like you, they were also cursed. It was my duty to free them from their unnatural burdens.” He spoke so calmly that I had to repeat the words before my brain caught up.

I stared at him, dumbstruck by such an odd and errant confession. No doubt, old age had addled Edgar’s mind. He loved my family, had been like the grandfather I never knew. He couldn’t do something so terrible. “I don’t believe you,” I said in a trembling voice. “You would never have hurt them.”

The candlelight flickered across one half of his face, leaving the other half in shadow. “I didn’t have a choice, Selah. They had to die.”