Cross the Ocean (29 page)

I pray you have found William and he is safe. I know Miss Finch is able and smart, but I still worry. Is he eating well? If Miss Finch’s home is in the wilderness, who sees to his bed and his clothes? I know these worries sound silly to you but I cannot help myself. I am still his mother after all and I don’t rest for imagining him thin and wan without the comforts of home. Have you two come to a truce of sorts?

Melinda has been to a whirlwind of parties and balls and she and Claire have become fast friends. Men and women admire Melinda wherever she goes. There is a small matter that I’m sure McDonald exaggerated wildly concerning Melinda. A young man, Connor McDougal, has been paying her court as young men do to young women as charming and as beautiful as our daughter. Connor is handsome as well and Melinda has accepted his attentions. He will be laird of his clan one day but I’m afraid you’ll find his position lacking for the daughter of a duke. His family is prosperous and his sisters and mother gently bred. The McDougal laird, his father, is well, more Scottish. And so is the son. Throwing poles at festivals and tossing huge sacks over their shoulders as if they weighed nothing. But by the by, our Melinda may have fallen in love. And I do believe Connor will tear this castle down in her pursuit if need be. But fear not. McDonald and his family guard her and Claire most faithfully.

Please write and apprise me of poor William’s condition.

Ann

At some point in the reading Blake had stood up. He didn’t realize his position until he plopped into a chair behind him. Blake reached for the decanter of whiskey on Fred’s desk and uncorked it. Seeing no glass, he guzzled from the bottle. The wildly varying accounts had his head spinning. Ann was worried William was wan and pale all the while he was tan and gaining muscles and confidence by the day. She claimed McDonald exaggerated but yet Blake did not think her new husband was given to flights of fancy. His Melinda was being pursued by an untitled heathen capable of tearing down a castle with his bare hands.

“Esmerelda’s gone now and Mary Alice is really a nice woman. She’s resting. Blake, what is the matter?” Gertrude asked from the door. “What is that?”

Blake stared at her for the longest time. “My life has fallen apart. Spiraled out of control. I have no say over anything, anyone.”

“What are you talking about, Blake?” she asked.

Blake stood and ran his fingers through his hair. “Everything I’ve been sure of, valued, everything has changed. I fear I’m too old to take it all in.”

“Are the children alright, Blake?” Gertrude asked. “You are acting very strangely.”

Blake sat down at the desk and folded his hands in front of him. “You arrived in England and my life changed, Gertrude. And I’ve no rules any longer to rely on.” He picked the letters up from the desk and stared at them. “And when problems arise I haven’t the foggiest idea what to do. I can no longer hide away at my club or forget things in the arms of a mistress.”

“I’m sure Helena will welcome you back, Blake.”

Blake heaved a breath, angry. “I don’t want Helena. I want you. Ever since you smacked my nose with your hand as I tried to kiss it, nothing has been the same. You waltzed into my life and announced I was worthless after knowing me a week. You charmed my children to the point that William followed you across an ocean. I have found I liked your silly little country and most of its inhabitants. I dragged Benson three hundred miles out of our way as I chased sunsets.” Blake grabbed the neck of his shirt. “I fear I will never be satisfied without my Levi’s and six-shooter.”

“I didn’t drag you across an ocean. You came here on your own. And who cares what you wear or if you got lost?”

Blake stood and slammed his hands on the desk. “I’m not talking about my clothes, Gertrude. I’m talking about me. I’ve changed. I managed to escape outlaws, skin a rabbit and deliver a baby. And all the while I thought about you. Do you know I rocked a new born infant to sleep in a mud hut?” Blake straightened and drew his hands to his hips. “I never once rocked any of my own children. I have done poorly by them and vowed to make a fresh start with you and this child.” Blake’s head dropped. “And now I fear I won’t be able to. My newfound understanding is tearing me in two.”

“Sanders,” she shouted. “Get hold of yourself. You’re making no sense.”

Blake took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he slipped into the red leather chair. “Melinda has tried to run away from McDonald’s home to elope. I know nothing of these people. There is very little Melinda wants she does not succeed in gaining.”

“You are worried then?” she asked.

Blake’s shoulders lifted on a shrug and he laughed grimly. “Worried, you ask? I just realized I needed, well, wanted to get to know my daughter and she is in danger of being hauled away like a sack of flour over a moor.”

“What did you mean your new understanding is tearing you in two?”

“Ah, Gertrude. Don’t you know? If I tend to my daughter an ocean away, I will not be here when our child arrives. I promised myself I would be at your side.”

“I never expected you to be here. I knew full well what I was doing, Blake.” She twisted a long strand of hair in her fingers. “Granted, I was not thinking of a child at that moment but I knew, Blake.” She whispered the words. “I knew.”

Blake stared hard at her. He leaned forward in the chair. “What were you thinking of Gertrude? Was your mind far away, like mine, in emotions I’d never felt or wanted to? Can you honestly say we were merely swept along in passion? Can you look me in the eye and tell me we didn’t make love but just had sex?”

“I don’t know.” Gertrude’s lip trembled wildly. “I had no experience to compare it with.”

Blake stood and walked around the desk to the door. He stopped and dropped his head, hand on the knob. “I’ve had more experience than necessary. Experience I’m no longer proud of. Whatever you choose to believe about me or about that night, I will tell you with certainty, it was far beyond mere sex.”

* * * *

Blake went to the corrals and asked Fred and William to talk to him inside.

“I got lots to do today, Sanders. What do ya want?” Uncle Fred asked as he poured coffee and sat down at the table beside William.

Blake told them of McDonald and Ann’s letters. William’s eyes were wide and Fred shook his head.

“So you see, I am in a quandary. Of my own making I might add.” Blake said as he sat down across from the men. “I have a daughter in Scotland trying to marry a man I’ve never met who may abuse her for all I know. Make her miserable at the least.” Blake heaved a breath. “And I’ve got Gertrude in the States with my promise to be here when our child arrives. And I’ve yet to convince her to marry me.”

“I’ll be here for Gert, ya know. It won’t be like she’s going through this alone,” Fred said.

Blake laughed hoarsely. “But you know as well as I if I leave, Gertrude will believe the worst of me.”

“You can come back, sir,” William added. “If you’d like, I’ll stay with Miss Finch till the babe is born.”

“I know you would, son. And I know you are missing home greatly. No, this is not your dilemma William, but mine,” Blake said.

“There is no dilemma,” Gertrude said from the doorway.

“Thought you were napping,” Blake said brusquely.

“No. I’ve been sitting in Uncle Fred’s office thinking,” she replied. “I think you should go, Blake. Go to Melinda. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t.”

“And leave you behind?” Blake asked. “I promised….”

Gertrude covered Blake’s hand with her own. “I know you promised. And I think you gave your word with all intentions of keeping it. But I’ve decided to marry Luke Matson.”

“You can’t.”

“Yes, Blake, I can,” she replied. “He will be a good husband for me, I think. Esmerelda is right about one thing. I must marry.”

“Then marry me,” Blake said. “I’ve asked three times. I don’t understand why you will marry him and not me.”

* * * *

Blake had changed. His journey alone was a testament of some kind. Of what, she was unsure. He looked different for certain. He said he wanted her. He had defended her to Esmerelda. But Blake’s guilt over his inattention to his children reached to her and his unborn child. It was clear he wanted desperately to reach Melinda. The look on his face told not a tale of duty to his family name but rather the look of a father hoping and praying to do his best for a daughter. Weighed against his obligation to her.

Gert felt tears on the edge of her eyes. He had said nothing of love, of some elusive feeling, yes, but not love. What predicament would end his obsession with his newfound conscience? In time, no doubt, these changes would fall by the wayside and he would once again be the Duke of Wexford. He had had a lifetime and centuries of tradition pounded into his head to behave one way. How could she honestly believe, how could she be true to the vow she made to herself and to her mother so very long ago, that Blake Sanders was anything but what he always had been.

She blinked back tears as she pictured herself holding the hand of her mother at her deathbed. Promising the woman who’d birthed her and loved her to do better.
Never tie yourself to a man like your father.

Know he’ll love you, Gertie, and be true. Know he’ll always be there for you. Know in your heart
that you are the only one in his.
She looked at Blake. And she, so like her mother, loved a man unable to be true.

Blake would never know it was him she spoke of rather than Luke Matson. “I love him.” Blake’s intake of breath was audible. He rose slowly and left the kitchen.

William stood to follow his father outside but stopped at the threshold. Blake Sanders was crouched, leaning against a tree, shoulders shaking. Will backed up in the shadow of the porch near an open window.

Uncle Fred stared at Gert as he had when she was girl, underfoot or in trouble. “That’s the biggest bunch of horseshit I ever heard. And I’ve heard some whoppers in my day.”

“It’s best for all concerned Blake go to Melinda.”

Fred turned her towards him and shook her shoulders. “What about you, Gert? You don’t love Luke Matson. You love that damn Brit. Ya told me so yourself.”

Tears poured down Gert’s cheeks. “And he’ll never love me. Don’t you see? And I made a promise to Ma I’d never marry a man like my father.”

Fred stared at her. “I never thought I’d say this to ya, girl. Never thought there’d be cause.” He waited till she looked at him. “You’re a fool.”

Chapter Eighteen

The stab to Blake’s heart was painful as if a dagger had been thrust there. He knew now, as he had never known before what poets meant when they spoke of heartbreak. Nothing on this earth or in his life had prepared him to endure the pain that now tore his heart in half. The woman he loved, loved another.

Blake had near convinced himself to say those three words in his heart. But then his Gertrude had gone and said it. About another man. He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. The old Duke of Wexford would have ranted. Having his way through intimidation and money. Assuming all those around him owed him homage by some fluke of parentage. Insulated from every thing good life had to offer, blinded by rote and habits born of centuries. Without Gertrude nothing would matter. He would go quietly and allow Gertrude the happiness Matson would bring her.

Blake saw William approach and turned his head away to wipe his eyes.

“Father?”

Blake studied William. How clear his sympathy was. Not belittlement or pity, for certain. Blake didn’t deserve a son as good as the one before him. “I’m fine, William. I think we’d best plan to leave on the morrow. I want to get to Melinda as soon as possible.”

“I heard Miss Finch talking to her uncle,” Will began.

Blake could not bear one more thought of Gertrude at that moment. He held up his hand and smiled with resignation. “I’ll go talk to Benson. We leave at first light.”

Blake found Benson sitting beside Miss Forsyth on the flowered davenport. He waited till the valet joined him in the hall. “I wish to leave tomorrow morning. Is that enough time for all to be in order?”

“Yes, sir, of course. We have no trunks to speak of.” Benson turned his head to Miss Forsyth before continuing. “Your Grace?”

Blake watched Benson’s eyes shift from the blond woman to his folded hand and finally to Blake’s face.

“Go on, Benson. We’ve been through far too much up to this point to stand on formalities now. Say your piece.”

“I … I would like to resign my post,” Benson said abruptly, eyes wide.

“Somehow I knew that’s what you were going to say. What will you do?” Blake asked.

“Miss Forsyth has a small home in Chicago and assures me I would do well with a clothing shop,”

Benson said. “I will find lodging near her and look for an appropriate store front.”

Blake tilted his head and put his hands on Benson’s shoulders. “I’m glad for you, Benson. This trip has truly been an adventure, has it not?”

“Yes it has, sir. And it is quite possible I will convince Miss Forsyth to allow an ancient valet to court her. I do believe we would suit even on this short acquaintance. ”

Blake smiled. “I hope I’ve been as good a companion to you as you have to me. But I fear Miss Forsyth will outshine me in many ways.”

Benson shook his head firmly. “No, no, sir. It has been a great honor to serve you. You are the finest of men.”

Blake pulled the remaining money from his money belt. Benson hurried to undo his. “No, Benson. Keep it. And this share as well. You’ll be needing something to start with.”

Benson’s mouth dropped. “I couldn’t, sir. I have some saved at home in my quarters. I was hoping you would use it to ship my belongings.”

“Absolutely not. You will keep this all and I will ship your things as well,” Blake said.

The valet’s head dropped and his lip trembled briefly. “Thank you, sir. As I have said, you are too kind.

Would you like me to see to Master William’s and Miss Finch’s packing as well?”

“William has as little as I and Miss Finch will not be joining me on my voyage.”

“She is wise, Your Grace. Not risking her health with travels.” Benson smiled. “She will be ready to cross the ocean in a few short months.”