Chapter Thirty #2
The butler raised an eyebrow again, then tilted his head to one side. “I can assure you that there is no child.” He reached for Stephen’s collar, and Stephen slapped his hand away.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Then please go, as my master directed,” Reeve said. “He’s given me leave to toss you out on the street like the ruffian you are.”
Stephen retreated, and as soon as he’d stepped over the threshold, the door slammed. His foot caught in the door as it closed, and he fell back, tumbling onto the pavement.
Footsteps approached, followed by a familiar laugh. Stephen’s stomach churned as he turned to face the man he loathed above all others sauntering toward him, cane in hand, tap-tapping on the pavement.
The man tipped his hat, then regarded Stephen with his pale-blue eyes, the sun catching his hair to form a soft halo around his handsome face. To those who cared only for outward appearances, he was the epitome of an angel.
“Well, well, what’s this? A soldier grubbing in the dirt?”
“What do you want, Sir Heath?” Stephen said.
“Very little, thanks to Foxton,” Sir Heath replied, glancing toward the doors through which Stephen had just been evicted.
Then he lowered his gaze to Stephen’s hand and laughed.
“I see your tendency to assault your betters has not abated, even though you’ve taken to using your fists rather than a pistol. ”
Stephen glanced at his hand and caught sight of the broken skin around the knuckles.
“You should get that seen to,” Sir Heath said. “Dr. Lucas would oblige—or at least, he would have had he not been struck down by the pox. But, of course, you’re partial to that charlatan McIver, are you not?”
“Leave me be,” Stephen growled.
“Or what?” Sir Heath laughed. “You’ll give me a facer? From where I’m standing, you’ve come off worse than Foxton, seeing as you’re sprawled on the street. You took quite a tumble just now—most entertaining.”
“Go to hell.”
“With pleasure.” Sir Heath chuckled. “But let me give you some advice. I’d stay on the right side of Foxton if I were you.”
“Foxon cares for nobody but himself,” Stephen said. “Find another duke to ingratiate yourself with.”
“No need, old boy,” Sir Heath said. “All you need do with Foxton is seduce an innocent and he’ll buy your silence.” He chuckled again. “Is that why he tossed you out on the street? Tired of paying for your sister’s indiscretion?”
“What?”
“Didn’t you know?” Sir Heath gestured toward Foxton’s house with his cane.
“Our very generous duke paid me a substantial sum for my silence in the matter regarding your sister. He didn’t look too pleased about it, and threatened to shoot me if I reneged.
But five hundred’s a respectable enough sum, enough to cover the expenses I incurred in paying the Farthing. ”
“Why you…” Stephen began to rise, but Sir Heath sidestepped him.
“Aren’t you going to thank me for maintaining my silence?”
“I’d rather shoot you dead.”
“Yes, I gathered that,” Sir Heath said, grinning. “Though you managed to dispatch my proxy well enough. Well, I must be off.” He tipped his hat once more. “Ladies to see, you know how it is.” He winked, then twirled his cane before continuing along the path.
“Bastard,” Stephen spat as he struggled to his feet. He caught his foot on paving slab and fell back. “Shit!”
“Sir! Are you hurt?”
Swallowing his embarrassment, Stephen looked up to see a young woman—barely out of girlhood—in a maid’s uniform standing before him.
“Oh, Colonel Reid!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t recognize you at first.” She limped toward him, hand outstretched. “Let me help you up.”
Ignoring the proffered hand—for surely a girl that slight couldn’t support his weight—Stephen struggled to his feet and brushed the dust from his breeches.
“F-forgive me, colonel,” the girl said. “I didn’t mean to be so forward in offering my hand. Mrs. Platt’s always saying to mind how I act toward folk that’s better than I. I mean…”
“You acted out of kindness,” Stephen said. “It’s not every day you find a colonel sprawled at your feet on the street.” He let his gaze wander about her form. “Do I know you, Miss…?”
“Not really,” she said. “I mean, we’ve not been introduced. But I saw you once at St. Agnes’s, when you visited the captain just before he went home.”
“Captain…?”
“Captain Broom,” she said, her face flushing.
“Ever so kind he was—that is, when I spoke to him. We weren’t supposed to talk to the gentleman patients, of course, but he brought me some wildflowers and grasses after I”—she frowned, and a flicker of pain shone in her eyes—“after Dr. McIver treated me. He said that he and I were the same. Imagine that! A captain in the army saying that I was the same as him! So kind.”
“In what way were you and he the same?”
She blushed. “Forgive me, colonel, I must get back. Mr. Reeve is ever so particular about promptness.”
“Reeve?” Stephen asked, glancing at the door from which he’d just been evicted. “You’re a maid at the Foxton residence?”
“I’m employed at Forthridge Park—that’s their country estate, you know. Mrs. Platt’s the housekeeper there, but I was sent here to help tend to the house while His Grace visits London.”
“And your name is…?”
“Tilly, sir,” she said, dipping into a curtsey. She lost her balance and pitched sideways, but Stephen caught her in his arms and set her back on her feet. “Forgive me, sir, I’m still not used to…” She looked away.
“Of course!” Stephen said. “You’re the young woman Dr. McIver spoke of, are you not, who hurt your foot in an accident, and he had to…”
She nodded, lowering her gaze to her right foot.
“And the duke took you in?” Perhaps Foxton isn’t as much of a bastard as I’ve always thought.
“It was Lady Portia that took me in,” Tilly said.
“She insisted.” She gave a soft smile. “The kindest lady that ever lived, is Lady Portia. I just wish she wasn’t so—” She broke off, blushing.
“Oh dear. Mrs. Platt’s always telling me not to rattle on about my betters. I’ve no right to speak of her.”
“You have every right if you care about her, Tilly,” Stephen said. “What do you wish for her?”
“That she wasn’t so unhappy. I know gentlefolk’s not the same as us—they don’t have feelings like the rest of us—but Lady Portia always seems so sad.”
Stephen hesitated, his stomach fluttering in anticipation. “Why do you think Lady Portia is sad?”
“Mrs. Platt says it’s not for me to ask. When I arrived at Forthridge, Lady Portia had just returned from a period of convalescence. A long illness, Mrs. Platt said, but I must not speak of it.”
“Do you see much of Lady Portia?” Stephen asked.
“She spends most of her time in her chamber—even last week, when the weather was so fine, she remained inside.” The maid smiled.
“Except when she visits the children. She sometime takes me with her, to help with fetching and carrying and the like. Ever so patient, she is, seeing as I can’t walk fast.”
“The children…of the estate?” Stephen asked, willing his voice to remain calm, yet aware of his heart hammering against his chest. “Is she fond of the children?”
“Oh yes!” Tilly said. “The young girl, Jenny, at Willow farm is a bit of a handful—she likes to climb trees and such, and her pa caught her pretending to play at sword fighting with her brother, but Lady Portia tells her that girls are as good as boys at sword fighting and marksmanship.”
“Often they’re better than boys,” Stephen said, smiling.
“That’s just what Lady Portia said!” the maid said, delight in her voice.
“And”—Stephen hesitated, praying that the eagerness in his voice was not audible—“are there any other children Lady Portia is fond of?”
He held his breath for what felt like a lifetime, though it was likely only a heartbeat or two.
“There’s the Bensons’ little one,” Tilly said. “Ever so sweet, she is. Sarah told me—”
“Who’s Sarah?”
“The head housemaid at Forthridge. She said that the Bensons had been wanting a child for years, and nobody thought they’d be able to have any, seeing as Mrs. Benson had been ill after they married. And—” She broke off, blushing. “Forgive me. Mrs. Platt’s told me I shouldn’t gossip.”
Stephen lowered his voice. “I’ll not tell Mrs. Platt,” he said. “And it’s not gossip if you, or Lady Portia, have good intentions.”
“Lady Portia dotes on the child,” Tilly said. “Such a tiny baby, she is!”
Stephen’s heart gave a flutter.
A baby…
Surely it was merely a coincidence?
“She?” he whispered.
Tilly nodded. “A baby girl. Gentlefolk don’t tend to take to the little ones, but Lady Portia has taken such an interest in the child.
And no wonder. She’s the sweetest little angel, and is so good for her ladyship, never fussing when she holds her.
Lady Portia gets so sad when it’s time to leave her, but she talks to Miss Price about her next visit.
That’s her lady’s maid, you know—Miss Price.
She’s promised to show me how to dress Lady Portia and fix her hair, so I might take up a position as a lady’s maid myself.
Though, of course, no lady would want me, what with my foot. ”
“I think you’d make an excellent lady’s maid.”
Tilly gave a shy smile. Then she glanced toward the house and sighed. “I ought to be getting along,” she said. “Will you be all right now, sir?”
“Tilly…” Stephen hesitated, the question on his lips—but in asking it, would he reveal too much?
“Yes, sir?”
“The child,” he said, his mouth dry. “I mean, the baby…”
“Baby Stephania? What of her?”
Stephania…
A cold fist punched through his gut and curled steel fingers about his heart. The breath left his lungs and he bent forward.
It was no coincidence.
“Stephania…”
“Sir?” Tilly’s concerned face swam into view as Stephen wiped the moisture from his eyes.
“No matter,” he said. “I was merely wondering… if Lady Portia is still recovering from her illness, whether she ought to be out visiting. But I’m sure she’ll be well if she has you to take care of her.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Tilly bobbed a curtsey, listed sideways, then regained her balance and descended the steps leading toward the basement.
Stephen stared after her, then shifted his gaze to the heavy wooden doors.
By rights he ought to break those doors down and confront Foxton. But what he wanted—no, yearned for, with every fiber of his soul—was not in London.
The key to his heart was at Forthridge Park—where he was at risk of being shot on sight.
But it was a risk worth taking. If he couldn’t be with the woman he loved, and the daughter she’d borne, then his life mattered no more.