Lisa Bingham (5 page)

But even as she opened her mouth to respond, she hesitated. If she refused the role she had promised to live to the grave, there would be unavoidable repercussions. Up to this point, she had spent Charles’s money freely. Would she be accused of stealing, as well as of deceit? Even if Pritchard were generous and allowed her to leave with the clothes on her back, what would she do? She had no money, no prospects and no employment. Louisa didn’t know where she could go for help. Worse yet, to reveal her identity could cause problems for the very friend that she had promised to help, the real Louisa Haversham.

Mr. Pritchard obviously took her silence as acquiescence because he removed a pair of pince-nez from his jacket pocket. Looking over the rims, he glared pointedly at Smith, obviously hoping the man would offer them a moment of privacy. When it became apparent that Louisa’s bodyguard had no intention of leaving, he returned his attention to the papers.

“Mrs. Winslow, you will forgive me if I’m not completely well-versed in the situation surrounding your past association with Mr. Winslow, your courtship, or the circumstances of your…unusual marriage.”

What Mr. Pritchard left unsaid was the fact that Louisa and Charles had never met. But even as she opened her mouth to offer some excuse, Louisa stopped. She had no idea what Charles had told his solicitor about her or the marriage. For all she knew, he had spun a tale of a long and involved courtship or correspondence. Moreover, a true marquess would never explain any matter so personal. Instead, she asked softly, “Can you tell me what happened to… Charles?”

The name seemed unfamiliar on her tongue, despite the many times she had practiced it.

Mr. Pritchard’s expression grew grave. “I’m afraid I have little explanation for what happened. He had been suffering from a nervous weakness for nearly a year, but the doctors insisted that the condition was inconvenient more than hazardous. This spring, Mr. Winslow began a tour of his larger factories. While in North Carolina, he suddenly became ill.”

Pritchard’s eyes grew dark and pleading as if he feared Louisa blamed him for her husband’s malady. “Naturally, he was looking forward to your arrival. But even that happy event could not offer him the strength he needed to battle the mysterious sickness. I can assure you that he was under the care of the finest physicians that money could retain, but all too soon, his body was ravaged by the sudden illness and he passed on.”

Louisa pressed her napkin to her lips as if she were fighting her emotions. In reality, she hoped to shield her features from John. Although she avoided looking in his direction, she felt him watching her intently. And there was something about the man that had the ability to completely undo her. Somehow, she sensed he wasn’t completely fooled by her attempt to play the marquess, a woman worldly and sophisticated.

Mr. Pritchard tapped the papers on his satchel. “It is your husband’s unfortunate demise that brings me to the point of meeting with you this afternoon.”

He fiddled with his pince-nez, then offered, “With your permission, I would like to explain the contents of the will to you, Mrs. Winslow.”

“I don’t understand. Charles and I had yet to solemnly exchange vows in a church.”

“True, true. In light of your delicate upbringing, I was well aware of the arrangements made on your behalf. I know that you had insisted on a church wedding so that you would feel more comfortable in the eyes of your faith. However, the day he learned the proxy marriage had taken place, Charles immediately arranged for a change in his personal documents.”

“So quickly?”

“Yes. You see, Charles was a stickler for details. Everything was seen to as expeditiously as possible.”

Which could partially explain the man’s haste in insisting on a proxy marriage.

“Would you like me to read the testament verbatim, Mrs. Winslow?”

She shook her head. Her mind was already swimming with everything that had occurred throughout the day. At that moment, she feared the intricacies of legal language would be incomprehensible to her.

“If you could merely paraphrase, I would be grateful.”

It was obvious from the approval in Mr. Pritchard’s eyes that, in his opinion, a proper woman would rely upon the expertise of a man to interpret such a document rather than attempt the riddle on her own.

“Your husband was very conscientious about providing for your welfare, Mrs. Winslow. But due to the unusual nature of your union, he left you only a small portion of his estate, I’m afraid.”

Louisa’s heart had been pounding in her chest, but now it clenched in a knot. Would there be enough to see her through the next few weeks? At least until she could find a place to live, a means of employment?

“Please, Mrs. Winslow, don’t regard his actions as a slight.”

“No, of course not.” But even to her own ears, her voice sounded weak and a little lost.

Mr. Pritchard rifled through the papers. Then he set the pince-nez higher on the bridge of his nose and squinted at the page. “If you will allow me to read…”

“Yes, of course.”

“To my new wife, Louisa Marie Haversham Winslow, I bequeath the summer cottage and the five acres on which it stands…”

A house. She had been given a house.

Louisa’s body trembled in relief. At least she wouldn’t be thrown into the street.

“…including all of the furnishings and trappings that currently constitute the dwelling, as well as the lump sum of one million dollars.”

One million dollars?

One
million
dollars?

Sure that she had misunderstood, Louisa said the words aloud. “One million dollars?” Again, her voice sounded weak.

Mr. Pritchard shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Winslow. I know that the amount is only a small portion of the Winslow estate.”

Small
portion? She couldn’t conceive how anyone could have amassed even half of that amount. If Mr. Pritchard considered the bequest a pittance, what was the full estate of Charles Winslow worth?

“The bulk of Mr. Winslow’s estate,” Mr. Pritchard continued, “has been left to his daughter.”

Daughter?

Charles Winslow had a daughter?

“For several years, Evie Winslow has been a student at the Rochester School of Learning in Boston. Charles was often away on business, so he felt it best for Evie to attend a boarding school rather than live at home.”

Silently floundering, Louisa wondered how much she was supposed to know about the girl. She was certain that the real Louisa Haversham hadn’t known about Evie.

But what kind of man would marry without telling his wife about the presence of a child?

The same sort of man who would marry a woman sight unseen.

“Evie is also to receive the houses in Boston and Sarasota and the apartment in Paris.”

Paris?

“However, all of her holdings are to be kept in trust until Evie marries or reaches the age of twenty. Until that time,
you,
Mrs. Winslow, are appointed the girl’s guardian. You have been asked to raise Evie to be a God-fearing and respectable woman of society. You will oversee all of her properties with the understanding that Evie’s inheritance is to be enhanced by any investments and improvements you choose to make.”

Mr. Pritchard paused, glancing at her over the rims of his spectacles. “In this matter, I would be happy to serve as your advisor, Mrs. Winslow, since I performed many of the same duties for your husband while he was alive.”

“Yes, of course,” she murmured absently.

Charles had a child—and she had just been appointed the girl’s guardian. Moreover, Louisa had been charged with the task of building Evie’s fortune over the next few years.

Years.

In the space of a few hours, Louisa had gone from being a nervous bride to a widow to an instant mother and financier.

M
r. Pritchard must have sensed a portion of her shock because he removed his spectacles and laid the sheaf of papers next to the tea tray.

“The rest of the document contains a few small bequests of personal items to friends and employees who have served him well, but I will allow you to review such things at your leisure. I think that you’ve had more than enough to absorb for one afternoon.”

“Yes, I…”

“I have already taken it upon myself to notify his remaining relatives and arrange for Mr. Winslow’s private car to meet us here. That way you will be able to ride in comfort once we have…collected Mr. Winslow’s remains. When I have received word of an anticipated arrival, I will meet with you to go over plans for the memorial services.”

His expression gentled into that of a kindly grandfather. “In the meantime, I suggest that you rest. This day has been a terrible shock to you, I’m sure.”

Her hand unconsciously touched her throat. “Yes, I…”

Again he patted her arm. “Please don’t trouble yourself to see me to the door.” He stood, taking a card from his pocket. “Should you need anything, anything at all, send one of the hotel runners to get me. I have a small townhouse I use while I’m in New York. I’ve noted the address on the back of my calling card.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pritchard,” she murmured, taking the embossed square, ignoring the way Bitsy stretched out to sniff it suspiciously.

“Good day to you, then, Madam.”

“And to you, Mr. Pritchard.”

Mr. Pritchard had scarcely taken three steps before John was there to hand the man his hat. With a narrowed glance of disapproval, Mr. Pritchard snatched the bowler as if he feared John meant to crush it. His scowl deepened when John opened the door wide.

As soon as John had twisted the key in the lock, Louisa offered him what she hoped was an imperious stare.

“You should have been more polite to Mr. Pritchard.”

“Politeness has never been one of my strong points.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

Scooping Bitsy into her arms, Louisa moved toward the window, staring sightlessly through the panes, her fingers unconsciously stroking the dog’s silky fur. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to grasp what had just happened. She had been told that she would be wealthy beyond her wildest imaginings. Never again would she need to fear being left destitute. Never again would she be forced to go into service. She was a free woman.

No. Not free.

The money would not come without strings. If she decided to accept it, she must also accept the responsibilities that came with it. She would become the mother of a child she hadn’t even known existed. She would need to learn quickly how best to safeguard the Winslow estate and add to it. And these obligations would not end when Evie turned twenty. If there was anything that Louisa had learned in her own experience as an orphan, it was that parenthood was meant to last a lifetime. A child should never be abandoned.

“Are you thinking of the many ways you can spend your money?”

She stiffened, casting a dark look over her shoulder. “Is that what you think of me?”

He shrugged, leaning against the doorjamb. “I don’t know what to think of you. Your husband was very vague in his description of his bride.”

Little did John know that Charles had been vague due to simple ignorance.

“Our courtship was a very private one.”

“It must have been if you weren’t even aware that he had a child.”

Louisa froze. How had she given herself away?

John straightened. “You needn’t worry. I doubt that Pritchard noticed the way your skin lost its color. And even if he did, he’s of the impression that you’re a helpless soul prone to bouts of fainting.”

“If he has that impression, it’s because you intimated as much.”

“What would you have me telling your lawyer? That less than an hour after discovering you were a widow, you were in the arms of another man?”

The heat rushed into her cheeks. “A momentary lapse of judgment, I can assure you. You may attribute my actions to the overwhelming toll of mourning.”

John grinned. “Come now, Louisa. You don’t have to play the grieving widow with me.”

She stiffened, exclaiming, “I beg your pardon!”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Both of us know that you’ve never even met the man.”

Had Charles been this forthright with a hired man? Or was John merely guessing?

Louisa stiffened even more, her spine becoming ramrod straight, her chin lifting ever so slightly. “Mr. Smith, you appear to think that your position as my bodyguard allows you to take certain personal liberties.”

His brows rose, reminding her that the two of them had been about as “personal” as two people could be. Nevertheless, she plunged on, ignoring his reaction, knowing that if she didn’t speak now, she would rue the day.

As she moved toward him, Louisa realized there was nothing more liberating than money. She felt suddenly confident and in charge of her own destiny. And she knew instinctively that the time had come to dismiss Mr. John Smith.

“Mr. Smith, I realize that you and my husband had an agreement of service. However, I’m sure that you can also appreciate the fact that any contracts made between you are null and void. Since you have become privy to my financial information, I’m sure that you will appreciate the fact that I am more than able to make my own decisions concerning my safety and that of my stepdaughter.”

She held up a hand when he would have spoken. “Please, there’s no reason to argue the point or to insist that you must see your term of employment to its planned termination. Take whatever monies you have received with my gratitude and consider it your due in having the arrangements abruptly canceled. I am more than happy to forfeit your wages.”

Clutching Bitsy to her chest, she regarded him regally, finally feeling as if she really were a marquess. “As for me, I’ve had a long day. I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t see you out. I plan to retire to my room for the rest of the day, so you may collect your things—” she stared pointedly at the dusty saddle “—and be on your way.” Unable to resist, she added with utmost dignity, “God bless, and Godspeed.”

With that parting shot, she escaped into her bedroom and closed the door. Unfortunately, the sight of the damaged panels brought back far too many memories—the caress of John’s fingers as he’d soothed her bruised hip, the infinite gentleness as he’d bathed her hands.

His touch.

His kiss.

His taste.

Stop it!

But even as she inwardly castigated herself for being a fool, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.

As well as a stronger wave of longing.

Dear sweet heaven above, had she totally lost all reason? This man was nothing to her, nothing. She’d known him for less than a day.

And yet…

From that first glance, the man had pulled her instinctively to him, as if she were a fly being lured into a spider’s web.

Setting Bitsy on the floor, Louisa pulled the pins from her hair. She shook the tresses free, needing to free herself from the tight restraints, hoping it would ease the pounding of her head and the absurd aching of her heart.

Wishing to be alone, she didn’t bother to summon Chloe from the neighboring room. Instead, she wriggled from her jacket and skirt and eased her shoes from her feet. Then, after dipping a cloth into the cool water in her washbasin, she stretched out on the bed, laying the damp square over her forehead.

Almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, she heard Bitsy’s nails scrabbling against the polished floorboards, then felt a jarring sensation as the dog jumped onto the bed. Within seconds, the dog’s wet nose pressed against her cheek, the tiny, furry body wriggling against her with open adoration.

Louisa felt a lightening of her mood. She’d never had a pet before, let alone something that was bred for little else than feminine appeal. The dog was small, scarcely the size of a glove box, and covered with long, fine fur the consistency of silk sewing floss. With huge dark eyes and a stubby tail, she resembled a winter muff.

Despite her small size, there was nothing lacking in the animal’s devotion. For the past week, she had been Louisa’s constant companion—and as such, she had been privy to many of Louisa’s secrets. Today she had discovered the dog had a loyal streak, as well.

“So, Bitsy,” she whispered. “You won’t have a daddy, after all. Are you disappointed?”

Seeming to understand the question, Bitsy tilted her head to the side as if she were considering the idea. Then her whole body shook as she wagged her tail.

Louisa grinned. “I must admit, I’m not too disappointed myself. Especially since he’s made me rich.” Her voice lowered even more as if she were afraid to admit the fact out loud. “Is it wrong of me to accept the inheritance, Bitsy?”

The dog offered a short yap and pawed at the bedcovers in something akin to delight.

“I suppose that someone else might have told Mr. Pritchard the truth.” Louisa sighed. “But what else could I do?”

Closing her eyes, she cuddled Bitsy close, drawing strength from the dog’s warmth.

“I’ve done the right thing,” she said. But her tone sounded unconvinced even to herself. “Evie will be needing a mother, and I will not leave her alone in the world.”

As soon as the words were spoken, Louisa felt better about the course she was about to embark on. A yawn caught her unawares. Her body thrummed with weariness although it was only midafternoon. She’d fairly worn herself out with worrying.

“At least I think I’ve done the right thing….” she murmured, the words little more than a sigh. Then she surrendered herself to sleep.

From his position on the other side of the door, Neil settled into a chair.

If there was one thing for which he’d been known during his time as a Union scout, it was the fact that he had the ears of a fox. He could hear a whisper half again as far as the average man. He’d had very little difficulty discerning Louisa’s murmurings from the other side of the door.

No, not Louisa. Phoebe Gray. The woman who had promised to marry him.

When Neil had decided that he would assume the role of her bodyguard, he’d had two overpowering reasons. First, it would allow him to ensure her safety so that her uncle’s henchmen wouldn’t have a chance to harm her. Second, and even more important, he would provide a way for Phoebe to begin to care for him as a man, not merely as a name at the bottom of a letter or a skinny, frightened school chum.

Unfortunately, Neil was beginning to see that he had sorely misjudged things. He would have been better off abducting the woman and hauling her back to Oregon. Sure, she would have been angry. But now…

Now she could live a life of luxury without putting a dent in her inheritance. More troubling still, she’d been given the charge of a child. And in Neil’s experience a woman’s dedication to duty was never so strong as when a youngster was involved.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

What should he do?

Slouching in the chair, he rested his head against the back, even as his finger curled loosely over the revolver in his lap.

Right now he wasn’t sure what course to take. To reveal his identity might force his hand too soon. To point out the foolhardiness of adopting another woman’s identity could cause her to dig in her heels and become even more stubborn and intractable.

He would simply have to play things by ear.

Which meant that under no circumstances did he intend to abandon his own masquerade as Louisa’s bodyguard—no matter how she might protest.

Late evening shadows were pooling around her bed when Louisa woke. Beside her on the pillow, Bitsy lay on her back, her pink stomach exposed, her mouth open and her tongue lolling out as she slept in utter abandonment.

Louisa pressed the heels of her hands to her closed eyes. She had hoped that her nap would help her feel more refreshed. Instead, she was groggy and lethargic, her head pounding as she remembered the day’s events.

Had she really been offered a million dollars? One
million?

Louisa had once served as a companion to an old woman who received fifty thousand pounds a year from a trust left by her husband. She’d been the wealthiest woman Louisa had ever known, with servants and carriages, a manor in the country and a town house in the city….

One million dollars.

Louisa couldn’t even comprehend the amount—and to think that she’d been made guardian of a child who had inherited even more was astonishing.

Keeping her eyes closed, Louisa rolled onto her back, resting her forearm on her brow to block out the light.

She still felt twinges of conscience in taking the inheritance that Charles had left to his wife-by-proxy. But when Evie was added into the equation, Louisa knew that there was no way she would walk away from the situation. In her mind, she couldn’t think of anything more horrible than to be sent to a boarding school simply because Charles had felt his life was too busy to entertain the company of a child.

What did that action say about the man she would have married? With Charles’s vast fortune, it would have been simple to hire a governess and a fleet of servants to look after the girl. At least then Evie would have been offered the comfort of living in her own home. Instead, she’d been forced to endure a life with strangers.

Hopefully, the school that Charles had chosen was a step above the charity academy Louisa herself had attended as a child. When she’d reached ten years of age, she’d been sent away from the orphanage to Milton’s School of Service. It had been a cold, drafty building run by pious educators and an even more dour headmaster. No laughter or frivolity was tolerated. Even Louisa’s beloved romance novels had been forbidden. In order to read her fill of
Pride and Prejudice
and
Wuthering Heights,
she had often volunteered to walk miles each afternoon to gather supplies from the greengrocer, just so that she could read along the way and hide the books in the rickety cart used for the journey.