Regina Scott (20 page)

But was she willing to set that burden on Trevor’s shoulders instead?

T
revor gazed down at Gwen. She’d become strangely quiet. Did she understand his concerns? For a moment, at the mine, he’d felt as if he couldn’t breathe. It was one thing to put his life in jeopardy. Given his upbringing, he had never been completely safe. Danger, of one kind or another, had followed him through school and onto the streets of London. He knew how to handle it, how to prepare for it, how to meet and defeat it. Nothing had prepared him for the fear that had assailed him at the thought of losing Gwen.

“So you’ll stay out of it,” he tried. “We’re agreed that from here on, I search alone.”

She peered closer, and he schooled his face to show only a polite smile. She sighed. “You’re doing it again—putting on a mask that hides your feelings. Have I so offended you by wanting to help?”

He’d hidden behind a mask for years. Odd that
she was the only one who’d ever noticed. “You haven’t offended me, Gwen. Just leave it be.”

“I probably should,” she said, slipping out his arms at last. “But this is so important. I know a fortune in jewels likely means little to a gentleman like you, but it means the world to me and my father.”

A laugh forced its way out of him. “It means the world to me, too, I assure you. And I am no gentleman, Gwen. Perhaps it’s time you learned the truth about the new master of Blackcliff.”

Gwen took another step back so she could see all of Trevor. His face looked weary, his shoulders tense as if they carried a weight too great even for him. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“Very few do. I have done my best to make sure of it.” He raised his chin as if making a decision. “I’m illegitimate, Gwen. My mother was an actress at the Theatre Royal in London. She wasn’t very good on stage, but she excelled at getting gentlemen to fall in love with her. She was a great deal older than you when she ensnared a young naval midshipman who was related to the royal family. I was the result.”

The picture was so far removed from the family she knew and loved that she could not grasp it. “But she must have loved him,” she protested.

His gaze was pitiless, as if he’d resigned himself to this sordid truth long ago. “She was always de
voted to the men who surrounded her, but her heart went to the highest bidder.”

She refused to see his mother as so calloused. She’d raised Trevor, hadn’t she? And he was one of the most honorable men Gwen knew. “Perhaps it was her way of providing for you.”

He shook his head. “I admire how you can see the best in people, Gwen. But even my mother wouldn’t agree with your assessment. She made my place in her life very clear. I was only of use as a source of income. My father’s family provided her an allowance to clothe and feed me, you see. They also paid for my schooling. When I had finished school and the payments ended, she showed me the door.”

“But she was your mother!” Gwen felt her face twisting in frustration.

He sighed. “She is, foremost, a survivor. She lives on her beauty, her ability to appear ageless. Sirens don’t have grown sons. I am allowed to visit, when I let her know in advance and I use the kitchen door. I like to think she has a small fondness for me.”

It hurt just hearing his story. “And your father? His family? Aren’t they proud of the man you’ve become?”

“They do not acknowledge me publicly. However, they have let it be known that I am expected to do nothing to shame them. In all ways but name, they expect me to be a gentleman.”

She swallowed. “You deserved better.”

He stared at her, and she saw a light spring to his
eyes for a moment, as if she had offered him hope. Then he cast his gaze down to the strongbox lying open on the desk.

“Did I? I wonder. Sometimes I let the bitterness gain the upper hand. At school, I tried to cultivate an air of mystery, of detachment, but the rumors always spread.”

“They judged you?”

She must have sounded as incensed as she felt, for she thought one corner of his mouth turned up. “Boys always look for someone to harass. Luckily, I was large enough and fast enough and fierce enough that few tried more than once.”

She could imagine him backed against a wall, giving better than he got. “I would think that would win their respect.”

“Some. Make no mistake, good men like Squire Lockhart offered me their friendship. Unfortunately, none of them was in a position to offer me a place as personal secretary or steward, and like John Cord, I refused to take charity. Instead, I found a way to make a living. I used my mother’s connections to uncover the sins of my betters, then helped them hush those who would profit from that knowledge.”

“What do you mean?” Gwen asked. “Are these the investigations you talked about?”

His gaze rose to meet hers, wearily. “Yes. The only pride I take in them is that I solved the puzzle. Uncovering embezzlement, blackmail, adultery,
they are not something that endears you to the ones you help.”

“I imagine not.” And she could also understand why he had jumped so easily to the conclusion that her father must be his enemy. He’d probably seen any number of betrayals, and from people closer than a trusted steward.

“One of those I helped was my father,” he continued. “I suppose I expected him to thank me, to finally acknowledge me. Instead, he arranged a baronetcy for me and sent me to the farthest part of England to an estate I cannot hope to redeem.” He came around the desk and took her hands. “Those jewels are my one chance, Gwen. They will allow me to finally become the man I was meant to be.”

“You are already that man,” she said softly.

He snorted. “You think so? Although I had Bible classes in school, I never read the Bible until you handed it to me. My bedtime stories were sordid whispers down darkened corridors. I came here thinking only what Blackcliff could do for me, not what I could do for the people of Blackcliff.”

“But you have helped!” When he rolled his eyes, she pulled him closer. “You have! You did not protest David Newton keeping his position. You gave Mrs. Bentley a place to live. You offered my father mercy.”

“Because of you! You taught me how to see this place, these people. You taught me to care about their concerns.” He let go of her hands to seize her
shoulders. “Don’t you see, Gwen? You’ve helped me become an honorable gentleman. I can’t allow you to be hurt. Don’t ask it of me.”

Gwen laid her hand over one of his. “Very well. I’ll stay out of it if it eases your mind.”

His sigh was deep enough she felt it move through him. “Thank you.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “But you are wrong, Trevor. If I have encouraged you to act honorably, I’m glad. But I don’t believe you can make something from nothing. You are a gentleman at heart. You’ve proved that through your actions.”

“Darling Gwen,” he said softly. “Ever the optimist.”

She wrinkled her nose. “If you don’t believe me, ask God. He knows what He made you to be. The Bible says He knows us before we are born.”

“And He chose this life for me?” His look spoke volumes. “Such kindness.”

“Would you rather He let you die in the womb? Or sent you to no school at all and left you to fend for yourself on the street?”

“I would rather he had me born into a family.”

Gwen hugged him close. “Oh, but you were born into a family, Trevor! You just didn’t know it until you arrived in Blackcliff!”

Gwen was determined to keep her promise, no matter how difficult it was to refrain from offering suggestions or following Trevor about. She managed
to convince him to let her find her father. At least one Allbridge might be of assistance!

But her father wasn’t in the gatehouse when she went down to check. Nor could she find him in the stables with Rob or the kitchen with Mrs. Bentley. She was standing on the Blackcliff front step, hands on hips, wondering where else to check for him, when she spotted his lean figure loping from the back of the estate. Why was he out now, and without Dolly at his side?

Perhaps it was her conversation with Trevor, but a suspicion tickled the back of her mind. Surely he hadn’t followed them to John Cord’s cottage and then to the mine. Could he have started the avalanche accidentally? Then why not come to their aid afterward?

And why would he need to follow them? He had only to ask her, and she’d tell him everything she’d learned.

Gwen shook herself. No, her father must have some other reason for wandering about the estate. And she fully intended to find out what it was.

Unfortunately, he managed to evade her at the gatehouse, and when she returned to the manor later in the day, Mrs. Bentley reported that he had closeted himself with Trevor in the library. It seemed her father had located some early plans for the house as well as the plans for remodeling, and he and Trevor were comparing the two for any signs of hidden rooms or storage places. She was afraid
they just might start taking axes to the walls. She could only hope the polished oak paneling would give them pause.

“And what did you determine?” she asked her father when she finally caught up with him at the Hall and returned with him to the gatehouse that evening for dinner.

“Ah, and you aren’t supposed to be asking,” he said, helping himself to a thick slice of the meat pie Gwen had baked. “Sir Trevor tells me that you’ve promised to leave the searching to him.”

“So I did,” Gwen said primly, watching him bring a forkful to his mouth. The fire popped in the grate beside them, and she could hear rain dripping from the trees outside. “But checking after you isn’t part of that promise. What did you do while we were questioning Mr. Cord?”

“Me?” His gray brows went up, and he leveled his empty fork at her. “Now see here, miss. You have no call to be questioning your own father.”

“And if I don’t, who will?”

He snorted and dug back into his pie. “If you must know, I went to the kitchen and apologized to Mrs. Bentley. She had to do the cleaning up after my fall. Didn’t seem right.”

“That was good of you,” Gwen replied, fork flaking off pieces of the golden crust. “Father, have I shamed you?”

“What?” His fork clattered to the plate. “Never! Who put such a thought in your head?”

Gwen laid her own fork aside. “I realized today that I’ve become a bit of a tyrant.”

Her father chuckled. “That’s God’s truth.”

“Well, you needn’t agree so easily!”

He chuckled again. “Never been one to lie to my girl. You’d see right through me anyway.” He sobered. “And you’ve had cause to take on more than your share, but that’s going to change. I talked with Mr. Newton. He’s going to help me get over my loss.”

“Oh, Father, I’m so glad!” Gwen lay her hand over his. It was more frail than she remembered, but she thought she felt the strength inside. With the Lord’s help, and David Newton’s, she was certain her father would find that strength again, too.

He was up and out to the Hall early the next morning. Gwen thought about following, but she knew she’d only end up sitting around and waiting. That would drive her mad! Besides, a task had been given to her, one she’d been neglecting. She’d been afraid of taking her mother’s place, of being less than her mother had been to the village. She’d tried to make everything perfect, when no one expected perfection except her.

Only You are perfect, Lord. Help me remember that and not demand it of myself or others.

She spent an hour out with Dolly gathering what she needed from the overgrown garden. Then she returned to the kitchen, cinched on her apron and opened her mother’s recipe book. Memories as
sailed her—her mother writing, talking to Gwen all the while about steaming and shaking and everything else that had to be done to make the horehound syrup just right. Gwen swore she smelled the plant cooking long before she put it in the pot.

“People need this,” she told Dolly, who was lying on the stone floor of the kitchen, watching Gwen as if hoping something juicy might drop. “I need this. It’s like Mother is still here with me, and it’s time I remembered that.”

Two hours later, the horehound syrup sat cooling in vials about the room. The light gleamed on the pearly liquid, and she couldn’t feel sad. She knew her mother would be pleased that Gwen had carried on her work, and she felt as if her heavenly Father was pleased, as well.

As soon as the bottles had cooled, she set two in her basket and started with Dolly for the village. One bottle went to Mrs. Wheaton, who reported that young Tim was doing better. Gwen promised to stop by later in the week.

The second was for John Cord. To Gwen’s surprise, Dolly’s growl rumbled out the moment the man opened the door.

“Miss Dolly,” he chided, clearly hurt.

Dolly’s hackles rose, and she bared her teeth.

“Dolly! Down!” Gwen ordered. The mastiff sank silently onto the ground, but her gaze never left the valet’s haggard face.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Cord?” Gwen asked. “Have you had a stranger visit recently?”

He rubbed absently at the hip of his brown breeches. “As a matter of fact, I have. A gentleman by the name of Hunter was here only yesterday, just after you left.”

“A gentleman of middling height, wearing a dark cloak?” Gwen asked eagerly.

“Yes, indeed. Do you know him?”

She was afraid she did. “He may be the man who’s been sneaking about the Hall. What did he want from you?”

“He had a great many questions about the colonel. I believe they knew each other in India.”

Of course! That’s how he knew about the jewels.

“He sent me a note just a bit ago,” the valet continued thoughtfully, tugging down at the ends of his elegant coat. “I was about to open it when I heard your knock. Would you like to see it?”

Would she! Gwen started to nod, then hesitated. She’d promised Trevor not to get involved. She should return to the Hall, let him come question the valet. But why waste all that time? If Mr. Hunter was sending notes, he might be staying as close as the George! How much better to learn what he wanted and then report to Trevor! Surely that was only reasonable.

“Yes, please,” Gwen said. She motioned to Dolly. “Dolly stay!” Then she followed the valet into his cottage.

He shut the door behind her. “Will she stay there until you let her up?”