Chapter Thirteen
Alban left Blackhaven at first light, and just over two hours later dismounted in front of the Roseley House stables. Since there was no sign of the stable lad, he looked after his own horse and found it water and hay before he strode into the kitchen.
No one was there. Not even the cook. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. Of course, it was still early. They could all have drunk too much ale last night and still be sleeping it off. Or they could all have had enough and walked out, whether to Radnor or to another employer. He’d imagined his frequent, unpredictable visits were keeping them on their toes. The kitchen had certainly been cleaner and the children fed and cared for.
But now, he wished he’d simply taken the children with him to Blackhaven. Will wouldn’t have minded much, and Bella or Mrs. Grant would have been happy to hire a respectable woman to stay with them until Marianne arrived. Stupidly, he’d been stuck in the knowledge that he couldn’t care for children. Even after he knew that he really was their legal guardian and would not be arrested for being who he was, he couldn’t be rid of the notion that he was not the sort of person who should be around children, that Alban’s nefarious reputation would somehow rub off on them.
Or had he simply wanted to be free to pursue Bella and his own business?
He should have done this days ago.
Uneasily, he pushed through the kitchen and upstairs into the main part of the house. Some instinct prevented him calling out for Jenkins and the others. Something was wrong here.
Fear for the children twisted through him as he walked silently across the hall and up the staircase, along the winding passage to the nursery. He still hadn’t seen a soul. The house remained eerily quiet. Even when he paused outside the nursery, his ear pressed to the door, no childish voices reached him. No sounds of play within. Of course, Molly could have taken them out, though it was unlikely in the rain.
Slowly, he lifted the latch and went in. The schoolroom was tidy and empty. He walked across it to the children’s bedchambers. His mouth was dry with an unnamable fear, far greater than any he’d known before a fight or when sailing into unknown dangers.
His right fist clenched and ready, he opened the door and walked into Leo’s chamber, spinning to face anyone who might lurk behind the door. No one.
And there was no one in Leo’s bed either. It had been neatly spread up. From a vague memory of his own childhood and playing hide and seek with Nick, he looked under Leo’s bed and in his cupboard. There was nowhere else to hide.
Frowning, Alban strode from there into Florrie’s room, which was equally empty and tidy. He left, crossing the schoolroom and barged into Molly’s room with barely a knock. He’d insisted she sleep here close to the children, rather than with the other servants. But her room was empty and her bed made, too.
Alban had had enough.
“Leo!” he shouted, striding back across the schoolroom to the passage door. “Florrie! Where are you? Molly!”
Leaving the doors wide open, he all but ran into the corridor. “Jenkins!”
Something struck him hard in the chin and he stumbled back against the wall. From sheer instinct, he drove himself forward again, but many hands slammed him back against the wall. Jenkins’s ugly, leering face loomed over him.
“Yes, sir,” he mocked. “I’m right here.”
Testing the strength of his captors, Alban strained forward, but apart from Jenkins and the two who held him, three other men, one of them with a pistol aimed directly at him, formed a half circle around him. He was trapped. For the moment.
“Where are the children?” he demanded.
“We were hoping you could tell us that,” said quite another voice, modulated and cultured and yet curiously grating.
A gentleman brushed past the man with the pistol and came to stand beside Jenkins. Of medium height and build, he was well-dressed and fashionable, if a little over-addicted to pomade.
“However,” this gentleman proceeded, “it would seem you too have mislaid the wretched cubs. Which brings me to the next question. Who the deuce are you and what do you mean by trespassing on my property and ordering my servants?”
Alban had already guessed it. “Mr. Radnor, I presume?”
“You still have the advantage. Jenkins here tells me you claim to be Captain Alban. Alban is an interesting name in this house.”
“I’m glad you find it so. Perhaps you’d oblige your ruffians to unhand me?”
“Perhaps,” Radnor said. “But then again, you haven’t answered my question.”
The man had cold, calculating eyes, and yet behind that calm was unease, even fear. And anger, a huge amount of suppressed anger. Alban had seen it before in sullen men.
“Do I really need to?” Alban asked. “I think you know exactly who I am.”
“Then I should indeed send for the magistrate. Oh, wait, that’s me.”
“Where is Marianne?” Alban demanded.
“Mrs. Radnor is in London. Your insolent epistle reached me instead.”
“Then you know my concerns for the safety of my niece and nephew. Apart from the girl, Molly, your servants are unfit.”
“Then you shouldn’t have dismissed the governess.”
Alban frowned. “What governess?”
“The one my wife engaged before we left.”
Jenkins leaned forward, grinning. “The one I scared off two days after they left.”
Alban understood. “And you wish to blame me for her disappearance? Really, if I could remember how to laugh, I would. Dismissing a governess would hardly be the worst of the crimes of which I stand accused.”
“It might well be now that the children have vanished also.”
A fresh burst of fear for them exploded through him, lending him strength. He lunged, swinging his arms so suddenly that he took his two captors by surprise. They were thrown forward, crashing into either side of Jenkins who cursed furiously.
Alban swerved, lashing out with one foot to trip the nearest bully. Then he confused them by charging not for the door but directly for Radnor.
“Shoot him!” Radnor screamed.
The blast deafened him, threw him forward, and yet he fell a foot away from the desperately retreating Radnor. Only then did he feel the pain. He stared stupidly at the pool of blood forming on the floor.
“Well, at least your man shoots straight,” he said before the blackness closed in.
*
Bella woke with a headache. She hadn’t slept much during the night, but had tossed and turned with her father’s ugly words ringing in her ears. She didn’t believe them, of course, but still, the insidious doubts seeped into her brain. She remembered the times Alban had warned her against himself, had drawn back from her, almost as if he was ashamed, as if honor drove him away. Before the urge for revenge grew too strong again?
Her family had taken everything from him. The duke had condemned a man to die, knowing he was innocent, and then allowed Alban, only eighteen years old, to be driven from his home with nothing, and hunted into exile. With no home, no family, he’d grown hard in order to survive, had built his trading business in the company of harsh, rough, and no doubt dishonest men. Coming back to Blackhaven, seeing old friends like Will Conway, to say nothing of the children at Roseley, could only have reminded him how far he’d fallen. Because of the Duke of Kelburn. Who wouldn’t want revenge?
But Alban wouldn’t take it out on an innocent woman. Whatever had happened to him, he retained a sense of personal justice. He protected her, defended her, even from her own family…
Only why had he not taken her ashore immediately after he’d rescued her from Tranter? Why had he allowed the possible accusations of ruin to arise? That they hadn’t was surely not his fault, despite landing discreetly in the cove. Was he using the circumstances to force her father’s consent?
Or did he never mean to marry me in the first place?
She didn’t believe it. She trusted him. And yet once the idea had crept in, it wouldn’t go away. It was always there, virulent and clawing at the back of her heart. Because somewhere she still couldn’t quite believe that a man like Alban could truly love her for herself.
And yet he did. She knew he did. He was coming for her today, and she would marry him with or without her father’s blessing.
In this vicious circle of doubt and faith, she finally fell into an exhausted sleep. Though with her head aching, she did not feel remotely rested when she woke again.
“You don’t look well,” Maria said worriedly. “We’ll go first thing to the pump room. The waters should do something to revive you.”
“For my wedding?” Bella said in disbelief. “I won’t marry Sir George today or any other day.”
“You will,” Maria said, just a little ruefully. “We all do his bidding in the end.” Her gaze sharpened. “And don’t give me that look! Despite appearances, you might take to be contrary, I have never regretted marrying Smedley. Now, drink your hot chocolate so that we may go out.”
It seemed almost ridiculous walking between her aunts, going to drink waters she didn’t want in a place she had no desire to be, just to please her family in this small thing before she disobliged them in the bigger.
“Captain Alban’s doctor examined me on the ship,” she said abruptly. “He doesn’t believe I have consumption at all.”
“A ship’s surgeon?” Aunt Sarah said contemptuously. “What does he know?”
“A good deal, I think. He is a qualified physician, too.”
“And to what cause does he assign your cough?” Aunt Maria asked. “And your difficult breathing?”
As she opened her mouth to reply, Bella realized the impossibility of repeating the doctor’s words. How could she tell her aunts they smothered her to the degree that it was they who made her ill? Especially in conjunction with Maria’s husband, or with His Grace or Bella’s eldest brother.
Aunt Maria sniffed. “I thought so. But I do believe the waters are helping, for you’ve coughed far less since we’ve been here.”
Because I’ve been happy. Because of Alban.
She contemplated quite seriously leaving her aunts in the pump room and going off in search of Alban. It would save the confrontation with her father and Sir George, which was planned for noon. But then she thought she might miss Alban coming to the hotel, and in truth, she would feel much more comfortable marrying him with her father’s acceptance, if not his blessing. By his own blinkered lights, he probably believed he was doing right by her.
And so, having drunk the waters until forced to relieve herself, she walked back to the hotel, her aunts on either side of her like guards. Unfortunately, she saw no sign of Alban. Perhaps he wasn’t yet back from Roseley with the children. Perhaps their mother had finally come and he had stopped to explain matters to her.
Entering the hotel again, she felt a strange mixture of anxiety, excitement, and dread. By this afternoon it would be concluded. One way or another, she would be with Alban.
And if he’s done all this for spite? whispered the nasty voice at the back of her mind.
Of course he hasn’t, she answered herself indignantly. He isn’t remotely like that.
You barely know him, returned the first voice with contempt. You have no experience of men or love.
Be quiet!
So lost was she in her futile if silent argument, that she didn’t notice Sir George Beaton until it was too late to avoid him. She suspected he’d been lurking in the foyer, awaiting her return.
“Lady Arabella,” he said at once. “Might I beg the favor of a few words in private?”
“Oh, well, I don’t think that would be quite…you know…” Her babbling faded into silence as she pushed her glasses more firmly onto her nose, gazing in astonishment at the unexpected sight of young Lord Roseley and his sister at the reception desk.
With them was Molly, the one-time kitchen maid. She looked quite red in the face, presumably through dissatisfaction with the superior hotel clerk.
“Excuse me,” Bella murmured, going at once toward the little group.
“Arabella?” said Maria. “Where are you going?”
Bella flapped one soothing hand and kept walking.
“Mrs. Arabella Nieve,” Molly was repeating loudly. “Don’t deny her, for I know she stays in this hotel. And you’d better tell her we’re here or she’ll make sure you’re sorry!”
At that moment, Florrie glanced round and saw Bella. Her little face split into a dazzling smile. “There she is!” she cried and ran to her.
Laughing, Bella dropped to her knees to receive the little girl, closely followed by her brother, in an enthusiastic hug. “Goodness, what is all this?” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” She rose to her feet, walking with her arms still around the children to meet Molly.
“Thank the Lord you walked in, ma’am, for I can’t make this stupid man understand anything. You did say to come to you—”
“Of course, you’re quite right,” Bella said hastily. “Has something happened?”
Molly lowered her voice. “Nothing really. It’s just we overheard Jenkins saying Mr. Radnor would be back today, and the children seemed so upset by the news that I was afraid they’d give me the slip and run off. So, we left together—”
“It was still dark,” Leo said, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of his escape. “And Molly harnessed the horse to the gig and drove us all the way here herself!”
“Well that was very clever of Molly,” Bella said warmly. “But did you not see the captain? He was going to visit you this morning.”
“No, but we followed the road,” Molly said. “Expect the captain rides across country.”
“I hope he knocks Radnor down,” Leo said enthusiastically. “And Jenkins, too!”
Somewhat belatedly, Bella became aware of the curious stares of other passing hotel guests, not least of them, Sir George and her own aunts. She hurried the few paces to the desk and fixed the open-mouthed clerk with a stern eye.
“I shall need a room for these children and their nurse, preferably one close to mine. Is the adjacent room still vacant? That would be best.”
“Certainly, your ladyship,” the clerk said humbly.
Bella eyed the children. “And I think maybe hot water for a bath.”
“Of course, your ladyship. I’ll see to it.”
Bella took the children by the hands once more to find Sir George in her path, frowning with incomprehension. “But Lady Arabella, who are these children?”
“I believe we’d all like to know that!” Aunt Sarah muttered, while several other guests hovered nearby and pretended they weren’t listening.
The lie popped into her head fully formed and perfect. It brought a gurgle of shocked laughter with it, but she swallowed that down and spoke to Sir George quite calmly.
“Why, they are mine, of course.”
His jaw dropped. Aunt Maria moaned. Sarah made a sound like a growl.
“But…but how?” Sir George spluttered.
“By a secret marriage, of course,” Bella said blatantly, sweeping away toward the staircase. “To Captain Alban. Come along children.”
*
It was only once the children were settled in the room next to her suite, with Molly bathing them, that she began to appreciate fully what she had done with her impulsive lie. Not only to Sir George, but her aunts, the hotel clerk, and the several guests who had heard her.
Leaving the children’s room for her own, she didn’t underestimate either her aunts’ humiliation or her father’s fury. And yet the laughter still bubbled away just below the surface. She would have put it down to hysteria had she not felt so calm.
Opening the door into the sitting room, she wasn’t at all surprised to see the duke there, pacing. She braced herself for his explosion of rage.
However, the look he turned upon her wasn’t angry at all. She actually discerned amusement gleaming in his eyes.
“Well played, Arabella,” he said wryly. “But it won’t wash, you know. I’ve no idea who these children are, but they ain’t yours.”
Bella sat on the sofa and spread her skirts. “Why would you think that?”
“Apart from anything else, because you are always chaperoned,” he said impatiently. “You’ve never had the opportunity.”
Bella laughed. “I’m always chaperoned in London,” she corrected. “But you must concede I was never there very often. I’ve spent months at Kelburn every year. Alone.”
“You were never alone!”
“I might as well have been. I roamed the estate from dawn until dusk. You’ve no idea who I met.”
“Don’t be disgusting,” His Grace snapped, his amusement clearly over. “You were closeted with your books!”
“Some of the time,” she agreed.
Mr. Waine, the chaplain, whom she hadn’t previously noticed, coughed politely. “Your ladyship does remember religion’s requirement of truth.”
“And of marriage,” she returned gravely.
Sebastian grinned and threw himself onto the sofa beside her. “Well done. We all fell for it. Now who the devil are those children?”
Bella gazed at him in silence.
“Bella, you’re not married,” he said uneasily. “I’d know.”
“Would you?”
“Admit it and let’s move forward,” the duke said, holding out his hand to the chaplain. Mr. Waine handed over a piece of paper which His Grace waved in the air. “Special license,” he said with satisfaction.
Bella watched him lay it on the table in front of her.
“It makes no difference,” the duke said. “No one believes you. You will be married today to Sir George.”
“It makes every difference,” Bella said, meeting his gaze. “Noon, I believe you commanded?”
The duke’s eyes widened. He glanced at Sebastian, who took out his fob watch. “Half past the hour,” Sebastian admitted.
Bella smiled. “And where is Sir George?”
Her father spun on his heel. “Find him,” he barked at Sebastian and stormed out of the room.
Bella stood, casually picking up the special license and tucking it into her reticule before walking into her room and closing the door with a snap.
*
Considering she had just ruined her reputation, Bella felt surprisingly calm. Somewhere, she couldn’t believe that it had been her mild, obedient self making all those scandalous claims. As she paced her bedchamber, laughter would surge up from nowhere, though it never quite made it beyond her lips. Anxiety usually interfered.
She needed to tell Alban that the children were here, and she didn’t know if he’d already set off for Roseley and discovered them missing. She suspected so, since he’d planned to bring them here himself before coming here to confront her father. She hadn’t exactly softened the duke up. He was unlikely to look kindly upon anything Alban had to say.
Eloping to Scotland, to Gretna Green, crossed her mind. It wasn’t so far from Blackhaven, and Alban said he had inherited land in Scotland.
But first, she needed to see Alban. Unease intensified into fear as she imagined him being waylaid at Roseley by that brute Jenkins and his toughs, who might well have rediscovered their courage if their master was indeed expected back today.
Alban had said he would come this morning.
Bella stopped pacing around the room and opened the door. Her aunts, who were sitting together on the sofa, clearly in close confabulation, jumped to their feet in alarm.
“Bella, you’re not going to do anything silly, are you?” Aunt Maria blurted.
“I’m going next door to see the children.”
“Who are not yours,” Aunt Sarah said firmly, “whoever else they might belong to. I know why you said what you did, but it won’t wash. Kelburn hates to lose. If it wasn’t for that, I suspect he’d wash his hands of you.”
Bella sighed. “I wouldn’t blame him.” Without fuss, she left the room and walked down the passage to the children’s room.
Bathed and dressed in some clean clothes Molly had had had the forethought to bring with them, they were investigating their new surroundings with interest. Both ran to her as she entered.
“Oh, Mrs. Nieve, do you think we can go to the harbor?” Leo asked eagerly.
“And the beach,” Florrie added. “Molly says you can build castles out of the sand!”
“Yes, of course we can, just as soon as we find the captain.”
“We thought his name was Nieve like yours,” Leo said, gazing up at her solemnly. “Only now it seems it isn’t yours either.”
Bella sat, drawing them both with her onto the bed. “That is quite true. I am so hemmed in by convention and respectability that sometimes I like to be incognito. My real name is Arabella Niven. My father is the Duke of Kelburn.”
“And Captain Nieve,” Leo pursued. “They called him Alban, which is our uncle’s name.”
“It is,” Bella agreed. “And in fact, the captain is your uncle. When he first came to you, he thought he was still in disgrace. Which is why he has been using Alban as his surname. I think all that is about to change. He was coming to explain things to you this morning and to take you with him until your mother comes home.”
“Really?” Leo said eagerly.
“I believe so.”
“Also,” Florrie said. “You said we were your children.”
“Yes, that was a shocking untruth,” Bella admitted. “And I am very sorry for it. I just had to find a reason for you to stay with me and to—er—well, I’ll try and explain it all better later! Um…when you heard Jenkins talking about your stepfather returning, did he happen to say when exactly he expected him? This morning? This evening?”
Both the children frowned with concentration, looking at each other.
“I think early,” Florrie said. “He wanted everything ready last night before we went to bed.”
Bella’s stomach twisted.
“You won’t send us back to him?” Leo said anxiously.
“No, of course not.” She rose to her feet. “Let me just find Captain Alban…I mean your uncle, and then we can go to the beach. Be good and stay with Molly for now.”
Returning to her own room, she seized her cloak and reticule and sped past her aunts before they could see what she intended. Even so, Sarah sprang to her feet, making a lunge to block the door, but Bella was faster.
“I shouldn’t be long, so don’t worry,” she gasped, flying out of the door and closing it hastily behind her.