CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sarah tiptoed into the house. She hung her shawl and bonnet on a hook by the door, then she paused, listening for voices. The residence was very quiet except for Mildred who was upstairs and humming to herself.
Sarah climbed to Mildred’s room, finding her over by the window and gazing out into the garden. She was swaying back and forth, dancing to a song that was playing in her head.
“Mildred,” Sarah murmured.
As Mildred turned toward her, she had the oddest expression on her face. It was a combination of shock, joy, and distress. There was a peculiar charge in the air, as if a storm was approaching.
“Sarah!” she replied. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Why are you up here all alone? Are you all right?”
“I’ve never been better. You look distraught though. Has something happened?”
“I ran into my cousin, Desdemona,” Sarah said, “which is always irritating. What have you been up to while I was out?”
Mildred made a waffling motion with her hand. “This and that.”
“Did Nicholas stop by? I was thinking he might call on us today.”
“Oh, yes, he stopped by.” Mildred grinned, but didn’t expound.
“I’m sorry I missed him. How is he?”
“He’s quite grand.”
Sarah studied her and was deluged by the strongest sense that her friend wasn’t well.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong, Mildred? You’re acting strangely, and it’s scaring me.”
“I’m…ah…overwhelmed.”
“I can see that. Why don’t you sit down for a minute? You can tell me what transpired.”
Sarah escorted her to a chair and helped her into it. There was a tray on the dresser with a decanter of wine and a glass. She poured some wine and took her the glass. When Mildred didn’t reach for it, Sarah wrapped her fingers around the stem and lifted it to her lips, holding it until she’d downed several swallows. Then Sarah walked to the bed and balanced her hips on the edge of the mattress.
“What is it, Mildred?” she asked. “Has Nicholas talked to you about me?”
Mildred frowned. “About you? No. He said plenty though, but on a different topic.”
“What topic?”
“I hadn’t planned to mention it yet. I was anxious to keep the news to myself for a bit longer, but I’m happy that you’ll be the first to know.”
“Know what?”
“I’ve told you about Robert and my son. I’ve been searching for both of them for thirty years.”
“And…?”
“I’ve found my son.”
Sarah could have fainted with astonishment. “Where? How? Who is he?”
“It’s Nicholas of course.” Mildred laughed in a bizarre way. “He’s been standing in front of me all these weeks, and I didn’t notice.”
“Nicholas Swift is your lost boy?”
“Yes, and he’s exactly the sort of man I envisioned he would grow up to be. Isn’t this the wildest, grandest ending you could ever imagine?”
“I thought he had no information about his parents. How did he decide you were related?”
“I guess it was details you shared with him about my past.”
“Me!”
“You provided some of my history to him, and he realized the truth. He’d been wondering, and when you confided in him it simply confirmed what he’d suspected.”
Sarah cringed with dismay. She had told Nicholas about Mildred’s tragedy. She had furnished names and facts that he couldn’t have deduced if she hadn’t indiscreetly gossiped about them. Then miraculously, he confessed—when Sarah wasn’t present to prevent him—to being Mildred’s missing boy.
Desdemona’s words about him were suddenly pummeling her. Desdemona had painted a very diverse picture of Nicholas Swift, one that was sinister and disturbing.
Wasn’t it convenient that he magically came forward just after Sarah had apprised him about Mildred’s desperate quest? It was definitely curious, and with how Mildred was yearning for answers it would be easy for a confidence artist to manipulate her.
Nicholas was a gambler, and he admitted to practicing deceits and swindles. Would he have used his charlatan’s scams on Mildred? Would he have tricked her? There was so much money to be gained, and Nicholas never had any money. What might such a fellow do to glom onto a fortune?
Her skepticism was increasing by leaps and bounds. “What was it besides my comments that established his connection to you?”
“He’d heard stories—from that harlot who was paid to raise him. Plus, he had numerous documents that proved his case.”
Sarah scowled, not wanting to crush Mildred’s excitement, but being determined to inject some sanity into the conversation. “What kind of documents?”
“He showed me a birth certificate and some other things.”
“Are you positive they were real?”
“They seemed to be, but I’ll have my lawyer, Thumberton, check all of it for me. He’s terribly clever.”
“Where is Nicholas?”
“He went to that house Clayton is renting to get his belongings, then he’s coming back here.”
“To stay?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say anything about me to you?”
“No, but then we were occupied with other subjects.”
Sarah was in an agitated state and confused about how to proceed. Was Nicholas’s assertion any of her business? Obviously, people should be notified about the situation, especially Clayton Farnsworth, but she would never confer with him about any problem regarding Mildred.
Was this why Mr. Winthrop had been searching for Mr. Farnsworth at the hotel? Had he learned of the shocking development? Had he immediately tattled to Mr. Farnsworth? If so, trouble was approaching.
“Is Mr. Winthrop here?” she asked.
“No, he left for London.”
No, he didn’t…
“I have to speak to Nicholas,” Sarah said.
“Then you should simply wait for him. He had several errands to run, but he’ll join us for supper.”
“It has to be sooner than that. Where is your nephew’s house located? Perhaps I could pop over there and catch him before he’s leaves.”
“It’s silly to chase around after him.”
“I don’t mind, and it’s incredibly important. My cousin is hoping to play a card game with him, and I’d hate to have him involved in it. I should try to dissuade him.”
“Nicholas won’t have to play in many more card games. Not anymore. His luck has changed.”
“It certainly has.”
Mildred brightened. “Why, Sarah, he can marry you now. He’s not poor. Not for much longer anyway.”
Sarah bit down a gasp, her qualms battering her like a thick club. What scheme was Nicholas pursuing? He’d met with Mildred, and he hadn’t mentioned Sarah once. He’d claimed to be Mildred’s son, and it appeared he was stepping into that role with very little discussion or debate.
A very bad conclusion was winging toward all of them. Sarah could feel it in her bones.
“Where is Clayton’s house, Mildred?”
Mildred sighed and told her, and Sarah nodded.
“Why don’t you rest until I’m back?” she said. “You should take a nap.”
“I don’t need to rest. I’ve never been better. Not since I was eighteen and madly in love.” She shooed Sarah out the door. “Find Nicholas—if you must. But if he’s not there, come home. We’ll see him at supper.”
And we’ll talk about what?
Sarah spun and dashed out.
* * * *
Nicholas shoved a last shirt into his portmanteau, then he looked around the room he shared with Michael Fenwick, wanting to be sure he didn’t forget anything.
He was eager to depart before Clayton or Desdemona returned. He had no desire to chat with either of them, and of course he and Clayton would soon be chatting about many issues he’d rather not currently consider.
Someone tromped up the stairs, and he glanced over as Michael Fenwick walked in. Nicholas hadn’t realized anyone was loitering in the dreary abode, and he’d been anxious to sneak in and out without explaining what was transpiring.
“You’re abandoning us, Swift?” Fenwick asked.
“Yes. I’ve decided to stay with Mildred Farnsworth again.”
“For good?”
“Apparently, yes.”
“With you’re trotting off so hastily, I assume there’s money in the balance.”
Nicholas snorted with amusement. “You would assume that, you pathetic criminal. I don’t suppose it would ever occur to you that she and I simply like each other very much.”
“No, it would never occur to me. Watch out for Clayton. He has strange views about how he has to protect her, but it doesn’t seem to me that she needs protecting.”
“I know.”
“Don’t trust him. He’s dodgy.”
“I agree.”
“I’m calculating the angles for you, Swift. No one is shrewder about it than me.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Are you short on funds? Can I loan you a few pounds before you go?” Fenwick had emptied Clayton’s purse the prior night so he was flush with cash. “I’m happy to throw some of Clayton’s money in your direction.”
“Thank you, but my fiscal situation has recently improved.”
“Well, that’s a grand thing for a man like you to be able to say. Enjoy your stay with Miss Farnsworth.”
“I intend to.”
“I’ll guard your back with Clayton. I’ll make sure he travels on to London as planned.”
“I appreciate it.”
Fenwick grinned—as if he’d guessed precisely what was happening with Mildred. He studied Nicholas, waiting for a confession, but Nicholas never told tales.
“I forgot to mention,” Fenwick said, “that you have a visitor.”
“I have a visitor?”
“Miss Barrington is here. Or is it Miss Henley now?”
“It’s Henley.”
“Does she have a twin named Catherine?”
“Yes.”
“I met her at a house party a few weeks ago. She was leading some idiot named Christopher Stanton on a merry dance.”
Nicholas scowled. The last he’d seen of them, they’d been in London and at the beginning of a flirtation. But Christopher was engaged to his cousin so the whole affair had been dicey.
“I’m acquainted with both of them,” he said, “and Christopher is a friend of mine. They were at a house party together?”
“Yes. He was chasing her, and she didn’t wish to be caught. I helped her aggravate him.”
“That’s sounds like exactly what I would expect from one of the Henley sisters.”
“Anyway, Sarah Henley is in the front parlor. It’s why I came up to find you.”
Nicholas sucked in a heavy breath and slowly released it. He wasn’t ready for this discussion, but would he ever be?
He lifted his portmanteau and started out, and Fenwick asked, “Will you be heading to London in the future?”
“Eventually.”
“Good luck with…whatever your scheme is.”
“There’s no luck involved in it,” Nicholas insisted. “With me, it’s all skill.”
“As my poor, deceased father used to advise, luck is always at the heart of it. Without luck, the cards will never fall in your favor. Be careful.”
“I will be.”
Nicholas went into the hall and down the stairs, and he stopped at the bottom, pausing to brace himself.
When he stepped into the parlor, she was pacing and obviously distraught. The dilapidated room was so depressing, and she was wearing the lavender dress Mildred had bought her. She looked like a flower that had been planted in the wrong garden.
“Sarah, what are you doing here?” he inquired.
“I had to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Don’t act as if you have no idea,” she sharply replied.
“There was no reason for you to rush over. Didn’t Mildred inform you I’m joining the two of you for supper? We could have chatted then. I hate to have you see this horrid place.” He gestured to a chair and chuckled. “I’d invite you to sit, but it might soil your lovely gown.”
“I don’t need to sit. I need to talk.”
“So you said. What is it?”
He thought about walking over and kissing her, but she was in an odd mood. Her color was high, a frown marring her brow. The sofa was between them, and it was evident she considered it a barrier to keep him from getting too close.
She was evaluating him as if she was nervous and worried over what had possessed her to cast her lot with him. If he’d been more patient, he’d have comforted her, but his own life had taken an amazing turn, and he had a thousand details to handle.
Sarah couldn’t be aware of his conflicted feelings. They were roiling through him, making him grouchy, and he simply wanted to be over at Mildred’s house. Yet he had too many tasks to complete before he could go there.
“Please apprise me of what’s bothering you,” he stated, “so we can deal with it, then depart. I’d rather not bump into Clayton or your cousin.”
“I’m sure you’d rather not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just spoke to Desdemona.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. I recognize how difficult it is for you to interact with her.”
“She told me the most disconcerting story about you.”
He scoffed. “I’m not surprised. She likes to create havoc.”
She left her perch behind the sofa and marched over to him. She didn’t reach out, providing a clear indication that they were fighting, and the notion was exhausting.
He never quarreled. It was pointless so he refused to bicker.
“I have to ask you a question,” she said, “and I demand you tell me the truth.”
He shrugged. “If I can, I will.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I won’t. Ask away.”
“Did you have a wager with Desdemona about me?”
Dammit!
Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “No.”
She studied his eyes, then shook her head. “Don’t lie!”
That stupid wager seemed as if it had happened in a different lifetime. He’d entered into it to shield her from her cousin’s wrath. He’d been in a room of dissolute roués, and he’d believed if he hadn’t accepted the bet, Lady Middlebury would have approached the others.
But Sarah wouldn’t be interested in any of those particulars.
He sighed, his shoulders drooping. “Yes, she and I had a wager.”
“For twenty pounds?”
“Yes.”
“Were the terms that you would seduce me?”
His cheeks flushed with chagrin. “I agreed to try.”
She was appalled. “Why would you?”
“Sarah, I didn’t really know you.”
She gasped. “It was all right because you didn’t know me?”
“Your cousin loathes you.”
“I realize that.”
“She was eager to have you ruined. If I hadn’t jumped in, I was worried another man would have.”
“Should that make me feel better?” Her sarcasm was biting. “You were discussing me in a room full of strangers.”
“I live in a corrupt world, Sarah. I always have.”
“Is that your excuse? No gentleman of my acquaintance would insult me like that. Especially to a shrew like Desdemona who would use any information to my detriment.”
“I apologize.” What else could he say? “It was badly done of me, and if it’s any consolation I declared myself the loser and gave her the twenty pounds.”
“It’s not a consolation! You talked about me with her! You bartered over me!”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You have a peculiar way of assessing this situation.”
“I was protecting you from her.”
“That’s a sort of protection I don’t need.”
“She posed a danger to you, and I was afraid you’d be harmed.”
“What now? I welcomed you into my bed only to discover you were there to earn some money.”
“It’s not the reason!”
“It is! Desdemona told me, and you’ve just confirmed it.”
Their tempers were flaring, and he was struggling not to snap at her. She was in a fine state, but his condition was worse. His day had been extremely stressful, and he had too much on his mind. There was no question he was in the wrong, but he was too irritated to spar about it.
“How can I fix this, Sarah? I’m so busy this afternoon.”
“You met with Mildred as we planned, and you were to ask for my hand. Imagine my surprise when I learned you hadn’t mentioned me.”
“It appears I’ve disappointed you in every possible way.”
“Why didn’t you announce our engagement? What am I to think? Was I an afterthought? You forgot about it? What?”
His flush deepened. “We had other matters to address.”
“So…I was merely lost in the shuffle?’
“No! It wasn’t like that.”
“She tells me a miracle has occurred. She’s suddenly claiming you’re her son.”
“I am her son, and it’s not a miracle. I’ve been working toward this moment for years.”
“How lucky for you! The facts just happened to fall into place after I supplied all the pertinent details.”
“It wasn’t because of you. You simply verified what I’d previously unraveled.” He scowled. “Why are you acting like this? I don’t understand all this drama and upset. You’re fond of her and me. You should be delighted for both of us. Why aren’t you celebrating?”
“Celebrating?” She was practically sputtering with affront. “Don’t you realize how this looks?”
“How it looks?” He pretended to be confused, but he wasn’t. Any sane person would call him a liar, but he was determined to brazen it out. “What are you implying, Sarah? Why don’t you spit it out instead of dancing around the issue?”
“Fine,” she tersely said. “I’ll spit it out. You’re a gambler and confidence artist.”
“I don’t deny it.”
“You plied me with affection.”
“Affection that’s very genuine.”
“You coaxed tidbits out of me I never should have shared, and before I could blink—voila!—you’ve declared yourself to be Nicholas Farnsworth rather than Nicholas Swift. Pardon me if I’m skeptical.”
“You needn’t be.”
She ignored the remark. “If I am skeptical, you have to wonder how others will view this situation.”
“I don’t care about anyone else. Mildred’s opinion is the only one that matters.”
“Yes, Mildred Farnsworth—who is lonely and alone and desperate to find her son.”
“Yes, Mildred. She and I have come to an agreement about it so it’s silly for you to rant like this.”
“You’re about to be very rich, aren’t you? If you can shove this through, you’ll be her heir.”
He nodded. “You should be glad about it. I’ll be rich so we will be rich.”
She frowned ferociously. “You’re including me in this farce?”
“All our fiscal problems have been solved.”
She studied him, then sagged a bit. “You mean that.”
“Of course I mean it. Mildred has a property outside London, and it can be ours right away, immediately after the wedding.”
She looked stunned, as if his words were battering her, and he was irked by her attitude. She was behaving as if she didn’t believe him, as if she was convinced he was pursuing a swindle against Mildred. Didn’t she know anything about him?
But as he posed the query, he bristled with exasperation. Well, actually no, she didn’t know anything about him. He recognized that fact so it wasn’t unexpected that she would assume the worst.
“Have you any idea how dodgy all of this sounds to me?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“No, I don’t think you do. Mildred told me you had documents to prove your case. Where did you get them?”
“I’ve always had them. The woman who raised me had them in a box in her closet. I found them after she died.”
“How convenient.”
“She wasn’t supposed to ever tell me about my past or my family. She was paid to be silent, but she’d kept records, letters, and receipts.”
“And you were able to magically produce them at exactly the right moment.”
“Yes.”
They glared at each other, an impasse opening between them, and he couldn’t guess how they’d ever move beyond it.
He never developed attachments with people. From a young age, he’d learned not to trust others, but he’d trusted her. He’d thought she would be loyal through thick and thin. Yet they’d just stumbled into their first difficult thicket, and she was questioning his intentions.
Apparently, they didn’t possess as much of a bond as he’d imagined.
“Explain this to me,” she said. “If you can.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“What is your plan for us?”
“My plan is the same as it’s always been. We’ll marry and live happily ever after.”
“On Mildred’s money.”
“Yes, but much of it will be my money. Eventually, all of it will be mine.”
At the comment, she staggered back—as if she was afraid of him—and she muttered, “What a terrible thing to say.”
“Why? It’s true.”
“When you asked me to wed you, I never worried about how you’d support me. I figured we’d wallow in genteel poverty on your gambling winnings, but was this how you figured it? You’d persuade Mildred to accept you as her son, and we’d carry on from there?”
“It’s not like that, Sarah.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“About what? You’re being ridiculous.”
“Were you ever going to tell her about us?” she inquired. “Or have you decided—with you becoming so wealthy—you can hold out for a better candidate? You don’t need to shackle yourself to a penniless spinster.”
“Don’t you dare think that way.”
“Would you ever have mentioned our betrothal to her?”
“Yes, at supper tonight, and since you’re in such a snit please be aware that I’m off to buy an engagement ring for you—so I can propose in style and slip it onto your finger.”
“What will you purchase it with? Has Mildred already supplied you with some funds?”
“No! Give me some credit, would you? I have my own money.”
“But—if you can pull this off—you’ll have a lot more.”
“I will, and I won’t apologize for it. I walked a long, lonely road to get to this spot, and I wish you’d stop complaining.”
“It’s much more than a complaint, Nicholas.”
“You should be ecstatic, Sarah! This is the answer to all our prayers.”
“Maybe it’s an answer to your prayers, but certainly not mine.”
“I spent the night in your bed. Are you claiming it was meaningless?”
“I’m not claiming that. It was amazing, and I thought we were marrying today. I was on pins and needles with excitement, but the one time you could have talked about our arrangement, you couldn’t be bothered.”
“I was busy!” he shouted. “Could you cease your harangue for a second and reflect on how all of this business with Mildred might be a little distressing to me?”
She eyed him up and down, her focus scathing and bitter. “You don’t look distressed in the least. If I had to describe your demeanor, I’d say you appear satisfied and smug.”
“Smug?” He threw up his hands in disgust. “I’m happy, Sarah! I’m glad this is resolved! This secret has been eating me alive.”
“I can definitely see how upset you’ve been.”
Her scorn enraged him, but he wouldn’t quarrel with her. He tamped down his fury and said, “Go to Mildred’s and wait for me. I’ll be there for supper, and we’ll tell her together. She’ll be thrilled.”
“You assume I’d marry you now?”
His rude gaze dipped to her stomach. “In light of our conduct, I don’t believe you have a choice.”
“A person always has choices,” she caustically spat.
“Yes, but they’re not always good ones.”
She stumbled away and started for the door, but she didn’t turn her back on him. She scrutinized him as if she was scared of him, as if he were a monster.
“I have to ponder all of this,” she mumbled.
“What is there to ponder? It’s between Mildred and me.”
“Oh, Nicholas, you are so mistaken. Clayton Farnsworth will have quite a strong opinion about it, and I have to write to Mildred’s lawyer.”
“Why would you? You’re not her daughter.”
“No, I’m not, but he manages her fortune. Don’t you suppose he might be curious about what’s occurred?”
“It’s none of his business either.”
“Would you stay away from her this evening?”
“No.”
“Let me speak to her—without you hovering and interfering.”
“No!” he stated more firmly. “And if you intend to be such a nag about it, you need to butt out.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re being absurd.”
“I don’t think so, Nicholas.”
He reached for her, but she leapt away, her alarm clear.
“What is wrong with you?” he seethed.
“I can’t pretend our relationship is still the same.”
“I’m telling the truth about Mildred!”
“We’ll see if you are.”
Like a frightened rabbit, she ran out, the door slamming behind her as she raced away. He went over to the sideboard, poured himself a whiskey, and sank down on the shabby sofa.
“And so it begins…” he murmured to himself.
He toasted himself with his glass, and he drank down the contents in a long swallow. He’d fought and won tougher fights, and he’d fight and win this one too.