Once an Heiress (10 page)

• • •

Vanessa’s butler led Ethan to her rooms. She sat before a crackling fire, a large book open in her lap.

She glanced up at his entrance. “Thorburn!” She stood to greet him; the forgotten book slid from her lap onto the carpet. “Oh!”

“Allow me.” Ethan scooped up the volume. He flattened the creased pages, plates of French landscapes.

Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears and her chin trembled. “That was silly of me. I’m sorry.”

Ethan tossed the book onto the chair. “Not a bit of it, Nessa.”

He wrapped his arms around the elderly woman’s thin shoulders. She stepped into his embrace and rested her cheek on his waistcoat.

Ethan stroked her back, his fingers slipping across the peach satin of her dressing gown. It was refreshing to see her out of bed and neatly dressed — her hair was even styled in a simple twist. Today must be better than normal. She might even know him as himself. Still, he didn’t want to risk upsetting her fragile mind. “How are you feeling?”

Vanessa pulled back in his arms. “I’m fine, of course. Why shouldn’t I be?”

Ethan shook his head. “No reason. I’m just making sure.”

She touched his cheek with stiff fingers. “So solicitous,” she said. “Always thinking about me, never taking care of yourself.”

Ethan was still unsure.

She pulled out of his arms and picked up the garden book, which she carried to a little table. Vanessa carelessly deposited it before picking up the miniature portrait, the one she’d thrown at her nurse. She cradled it in her hands, touching the face and whispering endearments. Then she looked sharply at Ethan.

“You cut your hair.” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Ethan took a step forward. “My hair always looks like this, Nessa.”

Vanessa clutched the portrait to her chest and backed away from him. “No.” She shook her head. “You look — ” Her brows drew together as she examined his face. Finally, she brightened. “You look just like young Ethan!”

“I
am
Ethan,” he snapped, slapping a hand against his chest. He muttered a curse. Patience escaped him today. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with Vanessa’s mental infirmity.

“You are?” Her voice was small and confused. “But I haven’t seen Ethan in … oh, Ethan!” she cried piteously. “I’m so sorry.” Her head dropped, and her shoulders shook with silent tears.

He sighed. Her solicitor hadn’t hired a new nurse yet, and Vanessa’s poor servants were run ragged caring for their ill mistress. If Ethan didn’t take care of her, one of the footmen might drop her off at the gates of Bedlam. It had already come close to that once before. Ethan could never allow such a fate to befall Vanessa, not after the years of unfailing kindness she had shown him.

With gentle firmness, he pried the portrait from her hands, then led her back to the sitting area. “Shall I call for tea?”

She sniffed and nodded.

After he’d summoned a maid and requested the refreshments, he plopped down into a chair and glowered at the glowing coals on the grate.

“We must speak.” Vanessa plucked at her skirt. “This isn’t easy for me, but it must be said.”

Ethan’s brows drew together in a frown. “What is it, Nessa? You know you can speak with me about anything.”

“It’s time for you to marry,” she said in a rush. Then she clamped her hand over her mouth and turned her face away.

Damnation.
She’d slipped into the past again.

“Don’t argue with me,” she said vehemently. “I know you must do your duty, and I’ll not stand in your way.” She laughed humorlessly. “You’ll think it strange, perhaps, but I want you to find a good woman, someone you won’t mind spending time with when you aren’t with me. She’ll be the mother of your children — you
should
get on well with her.”

Even though she wasn’t really talking to him, her words made Ethan think about Lily. The way she’d looked at him in the park when she’d asked his advice on the headmistress applicants had shaken him to the core. He’d seen that look in the eyes of females before … that misplaced look of trust.

He should be glad she was so easily drawn in — this was exactly what he wanted, for God’s sake! He could practically taste her money, it was so close. And yet, he didn’t want her trust. He would only let her down when she found out what he really was. In the past, it had always been easy enough to skip out when women started looking at him like he could be counted on, but blast it, he
liked
how he felt when Lily looked at him with both lust and admiration, as though she was as equally interested in his thoughts as she was in the considerable attraction between them.

“I think I’ve met someone,” he said miserably. With his elbow on the arm of the chair, he dropped his forehead into his hand, covering his eyes.

Suddenly she was beside him, stroking the back of his neck. “It’s all right, darling,” she murmured. “I want you to be happy. Well,” she amended, “not
too
happy.”

A maid came with the tea. After she served and departed, Vanessa returned to the topic. “You were telling me about your future bride.”

“I don’t really want to — ”

“Thorburn!” A wounded expression creased her brow. “You have never withheld anything, my love. Do not hold back from me now.”

Ethan’s lips twisted. As pointless as it would be to burden Vanessa with his thoughts, he
did
want to talk about Lily Bachman. He was in a turmoil, especially since his most recent encounter with her this morning.

He cleared his throat. “Well, her name is — ”

Vanessa raised a hand. “Wait.” Her voice was thin and reedy. “I’m so tired of a sudden. Help me to bed.”

He sighed. “Of course, dear.” He set his tea aside and assisted the elderly woman to her massive bed. It was nonsensical for him to have wanted to share with Vanessa, anyway. It wouldn’t mean anything to her, and might instead resurrect old pain.

As he tucked the blanket around her, she caught his hand in a claw-like grip. “Please stay, Ethan,” she said. “I would like to hear about your lady after I rest.”

He inhaled a sharp breath. That made twice today she’d recognized him. Hope leaped in his chest. Perhaps she was recovering, even though the doctors all said there was no coming back from dementia such as hers.

Whatever the case, today was a good day; he had to cherish it while it lasted. “I’ll stay,” he promised, giving her fingers a squeeze.

Her lips wavered in a sleepy smile; she looked like a small child in the middle of her vast bed. “Good,” she murmured. Then she muttered a few incoherent words and was lost to sleep. Her hand slipped from his fingers to the coverlet.

Over the next several hours, he looked over Vanessa’s affairs. He wrote to her solicitor, inquiring after the search for a nurse. Then he reviewed the accounts with the housekeeper. He cringed at the number of servants in Vanessa’s employ. Her solicitor had control of her finances, while Ethan saw to Nessa herself. Therefore, he didn’t know how much she had in savings, but it couldn’t have been much. If her funds were depleted, what would become of her?

Ethan would gladly provide for her himself, if he weren’t already destitute. He bit back a curse at the stupid gambling habit that had gotten him into this mess.

He jabbed at the long list of expenditures. “You must find ways to economize. Are you trying to drive Mrs. Myles into the poor house?”

The woman’s mouth dropped open. “Of course not!” She drew herself up. “I’m proud of the way I run this house, given Madam’s considerable problems — ”

“Just don’t make them worse,” Ethan said, moderating his tone. “Perhaps we should consider closing off part of the house and letting a maid or two go.”

The housekeeper’s mouth drew into a pinched line. She dropped a curtsy and excused herself.

Ethan realized she’d made no commitment about economizing. He couldn’t afford to be as foolish with Vanessa’s money as he was with his own. She depended on him to make sure she had a comfortable home to live in, even if she didn’t realize it.

When he returned to her rooms, Vanessa was already out of bed and eating a light meal at the dainty table in the corner. A maid hovered nearby, watching every journey of the spoon from the bowl of soup to Vanessa’s lips.

Her violet eyes brightened when she caught sight of him. “You stayed.”

He exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, relieved that she seemed still in her right mind.

After she ate, he escorted her to the sitting room, which had a lovely aspect of the street below. For a moment, they stood in silence, watching the flow of carriages and pedestrians.

“I don’t think I’ve been in this room in quite some time,” she said.

Ethan glanced down and met her pained gaze. “No, darling, you haven’t been.”

“I’m trapped, aren’t I?” She touched a hand to her temple. “Trapped in here. I’m scared, Ethan, of how it’s all going away. Sometimes — even now — I don’t know people I should know.” Her eyes slid over his shoulder. “The butler,” she whispered. “I think he’s been here a long time, but I can’t remember his name.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Ethan pressed a handkerchief into her hand. “Today is a good day,” he said calmly. “We’ll spend it together, all right? Would you like to go for a ride?”

For an instant, she seemed pleased at the idea. Then her face fell and she shook her head. “I’m frightened to go out of doors. What if I get lost?”

“I’ll be with you,” he reminded her. “You wouldn’t be lost.”

“No, what if I get
lost
?” She covered her forehead with her hand, and Ethan understood. She licked her lips and plucked at the hem of his handkerchief. “What if I never come back?”

“Shhh. Come now.” Ethan drew her away from the window and led her to a chair. When she was settled, he sat down in the chair’s mate on the other side of a little side table.

“You were going to tell me about your wife,” Vanessa said, changing the subject.

Ethan smiled, delighted she remembered their conversation from before her rest. “She isn’t my wife — not yet, anyway. Maybe never. Who knows?”

Vanessa waved a hand. “Bosh. The ladies adore you, Thorburn. You have your pick of the
ton
.”

He crossed his foot onto the opposite knee and breathed a laugh. “I don’t know about that.” Vanessa knew nothing of his current financial woes or how he was barely tolerated in the same ballrooms he’d once had the run of.

“Tell me,” she pressed. “We might not have another chance to talk.”

Saddened by her humbling words, he nodded. “Her name is Lily Bachman,” he began, “and it would be wrong of me to marry her.”

Vanessa tilted her head. “What an odd thing to say. What does she look like?”

Her image sprang to his mind: lush curves and full lips; hair he wanted to bury his hands in while he devoured her with kisses; long legs he imagined wrapping around him in bed …

He let out a strangled sound. “She looks like Aphrodite, as drawn by a bawdy adolescent.” He glanced around the room. “Isn’t there any brandy in the house?”

“She sounds lovely,” Vanessa said. “And you’re such a handsome young man. You’d make a fine-looking pair. Tell me about her.”

Out of luck in his desire for alcohol, Ethan dropped his head against the back of the chair and gazed at the frescoed ceiling, where centaurs and pans gamboled across a fanciful landscape. “She’s maddening. She says the most outrageous things.” His lips twitched as he recalled how she’d made that buffoon cry after he’d spilled punch in her lap. “But she’s marvelous, too, with a more generous, noble heart than any born aristocrat.”

Vanessa listened while he spoke of Lily, and the misgivings he felt about marrying her. He divulged the sordid story about Ghita, even. Vanessa stopped him to ask questions every now and then, or to offer a comment. But mostly, she just listened. It was such a relief to finally be able to talk about the whole horrible mess with someone.

He was unaware of how much time had passed until he noticed the light outside growing purple.

He glanced at Vanessa. She was staring into the air, as though transfixed by something unseen. “Oh, God.” He crouched beside her chair and touched her hand. “Nessa?”

Her startled eyes flew to his face, blank but for the fear he saw in their depths. She snatched her hand back. “Don’t touch me! How dare you, sir?”

A cold rock fell into his middle. “Come, Nessa, let’s go back to your room now.” He placed a hand on her back to help her up.

She sprang from the chair with the spry energy of a woman a third her age. “No!” She shook her head from side to side, her silver locks coming loose of their twist. “Get away! Help me,” she called. She darted from side to side, like a bird trapped in a house, confused and desperate for escape.

If he could just get her back to her rooms, maybe the familiar surroundings would calm her.

He lunged and grabbed her arms. Vanessa twisted and pulled against his grip, still screaming like a banshee.

Ethan hooked a foot behind her ankle, pulling her off balance. When her legs buckled, he guided her to the floor and pinned her by the shoulders. “Nessa, stop!” he cried, panic rising in his throat. Even in her worst states, she’d always calmed for him before.

The sitting room door flew open. The housekeeper took one look at the scene and gasped.

“Get her laudanum,” Ethan ordered. The housekeeper nodded and hurried away.

A crowd of servants gathered at the door, watching their mistress come unhinged. Ethan heard the words “lunatic” and “asylum” more than once.

“Get out!” he yelled. “All of you!” The servants stepped back, but only a few dispersed.

Vanessa managed to yank one of her arms loose. She landed a slap on his cheek; her nails raked painfully across the skin. “I hate you,” she snarled. “Get away from me. Get away, get away, get awaaaay!”

Ethan redoubled his efforts at restraining her.
Where in the blazing, bloody hell was that laudanum?
Beneath his shirt, sweat poured down his sides and back. Frustration and despair gnawed at him. “I hate you, too!” he bellowed at her infirmity.

At last, the housekeeper arrived with the medicine. Ethan laid on top of Vanessa while the servant pried her mouth open and poured in some of the liquid.