Betrayed Countess (Books We Love Historical Romance) (52 page)

“Why?” He grabbed for the baby’s hand and Genevre squealed with delight.

“The truth is … I am not related to you. Your uncle and I … we were never able to marry.” A lump settled in her stomach and throat. She hated to admit this again, once more denouncing her own children and debasing her bond with Everett. “When your grandmother dies, you will be the rightful heir to this property. Christian cannot make any claim to his father’s estate.”

“I wondered as much, overhearing this and that.” He gave her an embarrassed, lopsided smile. “I would have shared it all.”

She turned from his gaze. “Or you could retain the property for your own use, perhaps rent it out.”

“The place is falling apart.” Frederick shrugged. “I thought it interesting when I was a child, like a castle. But not anymore. I don’t care to live here without you. If you go to America, what about me? Where will I go?”

“I would love to take you with me. But England is your home, your heritage. If you sell the estate I will have Mr. Hobart put the money into a bank account for you. You do have a great aunt in the Scillies, if she is still alive. And that cousin Alice in Plymouth. But Mr. Hobart says you are welcome to live in London with him and—”

“If you leave me all the money, how will you sail to America?” Frederick grimaced and struck the table leg with his toe.

“I have an antique necklace from my father. I plan to sell that. Hopefully I will make enough money for the trip, and to finance a shop when I settle in Louisiana. Mr. Hobart says he knows someone in London who might be interested in buying it.” Against her will, she pictured Everett on that day when they first examined the necklace.

“Why didn’t you sell it before, when we’re desperate for money?” The boy raised a brow, much like Everett.

“It was my father’s last gift to me.” She’d been selfish and knew it. She glanced away from him. Her refusal stemmed from her hatred of Bronnmargh and her fear of parting with the last item of value she owned. “I had thought your grandmother would allow the manor’s sale long before this.”

“You can sell the estate. I don’t want to keep it. Grandmother’s so ill. Uncle Everett
… there’s not much reason to stay.” He stretched up in the chair as if to make himself taller. “But I would like to go to America with you. It sounds like a grand adventure.”

A grand adventure? Bettina sniffed the lemon essence with which she’d washed her daughter’s hair. “I hope it will be a successful adventure.”

* * * *

A few errant snowflakes iced the library window as Bettina stared out. She shivered and pulled the extra shawl around her shoulders. Three nights before, on December first, Rose had died quietly in her sleep. The woman had fled after her husband’s death, now she made the ultimate escape.

Bettina swiped away a tear. She missed her already, though Rose had faded so much in these last months. A mother shouldn’t outlive her children.

“It be time, child.” Maddie came into the room and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Bettina slipped into her cloak. “Thank you for helping with the arrangements.”

She followed Maddie through the house hung with black draping. The manor’s shroud, its last gasp
, it expired along with Mrs. Camborne.

Frederick waited at the back door with a lantern. He’d remained stoic throughout everything. Bettina hugged him. They stepped out into the yard. Maddie handed each of them a
sprig of rosemary. Mr. Slate held a torch that rippled light into the black sky. The cold wind swatted around them.

In a crunch of boots over frosty grass, village men carried the coffin past the stable to the knoll where a grave was dug next to Everett’s fathers’ in the family cemetery. Bettina and Frederick followed, Maddie and Mr. Slate behind them. Mrs. Pollard, Kerra and Charlie and a few other villagers brought up the rear, the men carrying more torches. Icy snowflakes stinging her cheeks, Bettina mourned for Rose, and the man who wasn’t in attendance.

The vicar said the solemn words. The village church bell rang six times, announcing the deceased was a woman.

As the men lowered the coffin into the earth, Bettina and Frederick tossed the rosemary upon it with a light plunk.

How fitting, Bettina thought as she gulped back a sob, rosemary for Rose.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“I am relieved that we had our last holiday in that mausoleum.” Bettina walked around the inn kitchen, her daughter in her arms. Oleba stood near the hearth, holding Christian’s hand.

A January rain pelted the windows. Bettina had left another letter for Mr. Hobart. Letters galloped back and forth between Sidwell and London as she made her plans. “Mr. Hobart will find us a buyer soon, he promised.”

“I understand your wantin’ to go, but that don’t mean I like it. The selfish part o’ me don’t want you to.” Maddie set a warm pasty down on the table. Christian climbed on the chair in front of it, licking his lips. “I’ll worry ’bout you and these little mites so far away. I know you been through a lot, child, but I hope you ain’t makin’ any rash decisions.”

“Thank you, Miss Maddie.” The boy smiled politely, picked up the half-moon pie and bit into one end. Bettina watched him with a mixture of pride and regret. Christian had Everett’s coloring and lean build and her large brown eyes. Her two babies may never have the pleasure of knowing their father.

“I have thought this over.” She took a deep breath and ran a finger along the rough-hewn table where she’d prepared so many meals. “I need to escape from here and do something fresh. I cannot keep wallowing in stifling memories. I owe my children a happier life, a happier me.”

“America’s quite an undertaking for a young woman with two little ones.” Maddie pulled a package from the cupboard and handed it to her. “Here’s the passport.”

“Thank you for finding someone to do this.” Bettina clasped the parcel with the precious document inside—the passport Trethewy harped about. But she wouldn’t show it to him unless he came sniffing around again.

Maddie picked up Genevre from her and rocked her around the room. She touched the child’s silky hair, chewing on her lower lip. Genevre wriggled to be free. She’d grown so rapidly, turning into a stubborn and demanding child. But her pale loveliness, her blonde hair with fair skin and sapphire eyes, softened the negative aspects of her nature.

“I wish I could take you and Kerra with me.” Tears stung behind Bettina’s eyes as she observed her friend and daughter. “But you have your lives here and I need to put everything behind me.”

“An’ you’re goin’ too, you said.” Maddie looked at Oleba.

“I insisted. I was born in America, but I don’t remember any of it.” Oleba gave a light laugh. “Mrs. Camborne will need help with the babies, and it’s past time I visited ‘home’ again.”

Dory shuffled into the room, pulling at her kinky blonde hair and damp bodice. “Here I be, wet an’ muddy, ready to work.” She stared at Bettina. “Heard you is off to America, aye? Me brothers an’ sisters miss your tutorin’. But the new vicar’s wife promised to open a charity school to help out. Wish she wouldn’t call it ‘charity’ but times be bad all over.”

“Your siblings will do well. I hope you all do.” Bettina patted Dory’s shoulder.

“You too
… in America.” Dory shrugged and hurried into the taproom.

Bettina kissed Maddie’s cheek. “Walk up soon for dinner.” She and Oleba took the children outside to board the curricle.

Bettina drove the vehicle up the hill to Bronnmargh. The rain had stopped, but the manor rose up out of the mist like a slick gargoyle. She and her maid rushed the children inside.

She found Frederick in the kitchen, stirring laundry in a pot over the fire.

“I don’t think I’ve burned anything yet.” He smiled at Bettina. “Mr. Slate said I should not stoop so low, but I don’t mind.” Since his uncle’s disappearance and Rose’s death, the fourteen-year-old made an effort to help out where he could.

“You are doing fine.” Bettina removed her gloves, her first gift from Everett. She caressed the supple leather. “It should not be much longer to stay here now. I dread to tell Mr. Slate we are selling. I have hinted at it. I do not know where he will go. I suppose he has lived here most of his life.”

“I don’t want to be around when you tell him,” Frederick said, half-teasing. He swished the bubbling linen, the scent of soapwort sharp. “That man always gave me the quivers. You might want to hang garlic around your neck first.”

Bettina smiled and went directly to the butler’s quarters, that shadowy downstairs wing where no one else cared to venture. An area polished and immaculate. She knocked on his door.

After listening to her explanation, Slate scrutinized her for a moment. Then a smile curved his lips—a not quite warm effort, but a smile nonetheless. Bettina tried not to look surprised.

“I knew something was afoot, so I’m not unprepared. One matter must be cleared up, however. I am aware we haven’t been harmonious, but I know Mr. Camborne’s happiest times were with you. I’ve been in this house many years and seen numerous sad events. But you brought him happiness. I’m appreciative of that.” He inclined his head. “I’ve been thinking about retiring to Launceston, my married daughter resides there. And she has no small children.” He winked after this comment and Bettina couldn’t help but smile back.

* * * *

The filthy broth of the Thames burbled under London Bridge. Fishmongers cried their wares at Billingsgate. The sounds of London brought back happy and sad memories. Passing into the shipping office, Bettina averted her eyes from the title on the glass door of Everett’s former headquarters. After receiving Mr. Hobart’s letter saying he had a buyer who wanted to look at the necklace, she’d engaged Peder for one last duty, to travel with her for protection with the valuable antique.

“Willard, I cannot thank you enough for all your help. I suppose this will be my last visit to London,” Bettina said an hour later after their meeting with the buyer.

“I hope someday you’ll come back to visit.” Hobart pressed her hand, the tension lines deep around his eyes. “I wish you the best of luck. I have a retired admiral very interested in buying the estate. Don’t worry about the money for Frederick, it will be safe in an account until he reaches his majority. Are you satisfied with the price you were offered for the necklace?” Hobart limped slowly around the shipping office.

Bettina tried not to notice anything in particular about this past domain of her lover. Enough tormented her in selling her father’s gift. She stroked a hand over the pulse in her throat. “The piece was probably worth more, but I am in no frame of mind to argue over money. It is more than enough to finance my trip.” She wondered if her father had stashed more money somewhere, as the necklace didn’t seem worth the lengths the rebels had gone to.

“I’ll be sending out an appraiser for the estate transaction,” Hobart said, his blueberry eyes wilted with sadness
, “and in my capacity as executor, I’ll endorse the legal papers in Frederick’s name. Again, the best of luck.”

With Peder, Bettina stepped outside to the hackney. The March wind carried the smell of tar and fish off the wharf. She turned and stared at the ugly square building, and the bow window above in Everett’s apartment. Heaviness threatened to drag her down. She had the strange feeling of abandoning him, of giving in to the Admiralty’s version of what happened.

Deep in her heart, he remained alive.

Chapter Forty

Frederick and Cadan carried down the last of the boxes from the attic. Morley dragged in a sword. “Can I keep this?”

“For all your help, yes, you may. But do not tell your mother.” Bettina stared about at the items they organized. “Let me see. We have tagged items for shipment to London where Mr. Hobart promised to store them. Personal belongings of Everett’s…
.” It sounded so cold, she winced. “…and his ancestors, things Frederick and hopefully my children may like to have some day.”

“Anything in the cellar we need to take care of?” Maddie asked as she wiped a strand of dark hair from her forehead. “This be a cave of a place, for certain.”

Bettina handed Cadan and Morley each a crown before they ran outside with Frederick. “No, it was empty mostly. I found some old broken furniture. I told the vicar’s wife she could take what might be salvaged for her school.”

“Weren’t no body buried down yonder, now was there?” Kerra asked, nudging her with a snort.

“Kerra, for the love of … ain’t you ever gonna grow up?” Maddie untied her dusty apron and threw it at her sister.

“I wish we could have found the body.” Bettina turned to pour a glass of lemonade for each of them and spilled a few drops. She’d finally admitted her deception to Kerra—Maddie knew because of the fake passport.

“Then you could of married, I know. I just be jesting.” Kerra tossed the apron back. “I don’t never wanna grow old and stodgy like you,” she said to her sister.

“Thank you for all the pots, pans and linens.” Maddie gave Bettina a sad smile and folded the apron.