Love's Revenge (Entangled Scandalous) (4 page)

Reluctantly, she gave the sleeping child to Fiona and walked her uncle to the door.

“Remember what I said, Mary Katherine. Think of the boy. Perhaps there is a compromise, a middle ground. Certainly Mr. Worth could wait a month or two. Let us get to know him better...ease the transition. This would also gain time for Mr. Pinkerton’s man to do his work. Think about it, my dear.” He bent and pressed a compassionate kiss to her cheek. “Don’t despair.”

After he left, Kate was alone in the darkened room, lost in thought, battered by despair and shame. Beside her, on the small mahogany table, lay the bejeweled magic wand with its colorful satin-ribbon streamers. She picked it up and turned it over thoughtfully in her hand.

If it were only that simple. She raised the wand hesitantly, then swung it in a graceful figure eight. One wave of her wand and she would make Stephen Worth disappear.

Chapter Five

“It is the only thing I can think of, my lord.”

Stephen, who had been deep in thought, looked up at Benjamin Ward sitting behind an imposing mahogany desk in the richly paneled law office. “Worth. My name is Stephen Worth. Forget the title, forget everything but getting me my son.”

“Perhaps if you were willing to remain a while longer in St. Louis, as she requests.”

Stephen shook his head. “I can’t stay. I’ve made that perfectly clear. I have urgent business in Colorado to attend to.”

Benjamin Ward was studying him. “Mr. Worth, you understand she wants the child. You will not separate her easily from the boy. She has raised him quite well over the last two years.”

“Who is she to judge whether I’m a fit father or not?” His anger got the better of him. He shot up from his chair and paced the small office.

Ward tried to calm him. “While you have clear legal rights, it’s not as simple as it would appear. There is a risk that she could drag out the legal proceedings for weeks if not months—to forestall the inevitable for as long as she can. You said you wished to avoid any delays. You will have to make a choice.”

The limited choices he had were ludicrous. He couldn’t risk Katherine Barker finding out where he had been the last two years. “All right, convince her that this is the only way for now. If she hesitates, give her anything you think is reasonable.”

“You need to sign here.” Benjamin Ward indicated the place in the document on his desk. “But are you sure about this?”

Once again, Ward’s eyes were on him. No doubt the lawyer was curious about his client’s past. Well, he would just have to keep his curiosity in check.

Stephen signed the document with an angry flourish. “She wishes to judge whether I’m a fit father despite the fact that it is not her right to do so. Well, she may judge me but she will not keep me here any longer. I will leave with my son by the end of the week.”

…

George Barker held the door for his niece as they entered the offices of their attorney.

“Katherine. George.” William Brent had been waiting for them in the law firm’s well-appointed outer office.

“Mr. Ward is inside. He has brought a draft of an agreement—a compromise of sorts.” Brent’s voice was sympathetic, yet guarded. The reason soon became clear.

“Mr. Worth has offered to let you, Katherine, accompany him and the boy back to Denver. To see his home and judge for yourself his character and means. Would you consider such a proposal?”

For a moment, Kate wondered herself. It could buy them time. “Can you offer me another option, William?”

“I wish I could.”

“Shall we get it over with?” She mentally braced herself as William held the door for her. In the well-lit office, only Benjamin Ward sat in a low back tufted leather chair.

As Ward rose to greet her, Katherine struggled with a new emotion. It was almost as if she were disappointed. She had assumed she would be dealing with Stephen Worth himself. It might prove difficult to settle matters without him present, she rationalized.

“Ben has apologized for Mr. Worth’s absence.” William Brent attempted to soften the obvious rudeness.

“Yes, my dear, he had other pressing matters to attend to this morning.”

Benjamin Ward’s unctuous manner goaded her to break her resolve to stay in control. “No doubt eminently more pressing than his son.”

“Mary Katherine, don’t be foolish. See what the man has offered.” Uncle George’s voice cut through the tension in the room. It was a firm reminder to her of her own priorities.

Mr. Ward indicated a second chair for her and once she was seated, he sat again himself. “Mr. Worth has been very generous, Miss Barker, foolishly so, I fear.”

Ward offered a single page of carefully inked text.

“Unwisely, my client has basically left the decision on his fitness as a parent to you. He wants you to be comfortable with his commitment to the child’s well-being. I have structured a ninety-day trial period, just to be fair.”

She stopped the man. “No. I won’t agree to any set period of time.”

“Don’t be unreasonable. Think of what you might lose.”

Uncle George’s reprimand did not shake her this time. “I want the right to stay with Andy as long as is necessary. I won’t accept anything less.”

Ward spoke again, ingratiatingly calm.

“It was I who suggested to Mr. Worth that—”

“I will agree to nothing less. I may take Andy back to St. Louis the moment I feel his well-being is jeopardized.” She pulled herself up in her chair. She had to fight this.

“As you wish, Miss Barker. I have strict orders from my client to give you anything you demand.”

Benjamin Ward struck the offending words from the written agreement and initialed them. Then he offered the paper to her.

She saw the signature at the bottom. Stephen Worth had pre-signed the document. How stupid. It gave her complete control. Was this a trick?

She was not a foolish young miss who was easily cowed. What drove Worth to abrogate his rights so easily? Was it something in his past? Whatever it was, it was the key to her keeping Andy.

“Have you read this, William?”

“Yes. It seems very generous...considering...”

“...considering that Stephen Worth legally holds all the cards,” she added acerbically, as she fought to contain her temper.

The paper, in truth, was a joke. It would have little or no standing in a court of law. It was a “gentlemen’s agreement” and she was not sure that Stephen Worth
was
a gentleman.

“Very well then.” She picked up the pen, dipped it in the inkwell, then paused before she signed the paper.

“Uncle George, would you and William please wait outside for a moment? I wish to speak to Mr. Ward alone.”

After the heavy door to the office closed behind the two men, she spoke quietly to Stephen Worth’s lawyer. “There is one more thing, Mr. Ward.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and indignation. “If Stephen Worth ever touches me again, it will void the contract completely. You may tell him that if that ever happens, I will fight him to the death for Andy. I will find out where he has spent the last two years and if there is anything in it to prevent him from keeping Andy, I will use it without mercy. Is that clear?”

For the first time, Ward looked off balance.

“Will you please add that to the contract?”

Ward silently wrote the addendum into the agreement. When he was done, she added her signature to the black scrawl that already marred the crisp white paper.

“Mr. Ward, this document is to remain sealed. Is that clear?”

“Yes, yes of course.”

“You can tell your client that Andy and I will be ready by the end of the week. I will be bringing the boy’s nursemaid along as well. I expect that all arrangements for travel and accommodations will be of the type and quality to which we are accustomed.” She rose and headed for the door. Her confidence had returned.

At the door, she turned and added, “You can also tell Mr. Worth that I hope whatever it was that kept him from this meeting was a matter of life and death, because if it is anything less, he has already jeopardized his chances of seeing his son grow up in Denver.”

…

“You’d best be behavin’ yourself, lad, while your mama’s at her meeting or I’ll get you.”

Andy’s high-pitched laughter—half giggle, half bubbling squeal—punctured the balmy October afternoon.

The boy ran away from his nursemaid, kicking up leaves as he went. White clouds skittered across a brilliant blue sky, driven by a gentle wind that shook still more leaves from the branches. The leaves fell elegantly, slipping along the breeze, doubling back here and there before settling onto the meticulous lawn and the two playing there.

Andy panted and stopped, too tired to run anymore. He almost toppled backward as the young Irish girl inched closer—her hands outstretched, her fingers moving slowly in a manner that left Andy with no doubt that he was in for a good tickling.

“Fiona.” The housekeeper interrupted their play. “I needs your help for a wee bit. Leave the boy. He’ll be fine. It will just be for a moment.”

“Stay right here, Andy. Don’t be wanderin’ off. I’ll be right back. Play with the dog but don’t be teasing him as is your want.”

Andy was left standing in the warm sunshine of the backyard, his feet ankle-deep in fallen leaves.

Stephen Worth moved out from behind the tree that had hidden his presence. Now he watched as the boy promptly took two steps to the dog and, placing his small arms around the black-and-white spaniel’s neck, squeezed as hard as he could in an act of affection and unintentional torture.

The dog withstood, then, in desperation, yipped and bolted. Andy tumbled backward onto the ground. Quickly, he regained his feet and toddled off after the spaniel. As the child approached, Stephen Worth retreated behind the tree’s solid trunk.

He desperately sought shelter from the emotions that buffeted him. In the long months of their separation, he had struggled to hold a mental picture of his son, but the image of the newborn had quickly faded. He had blamed himself for letting it go so easily. Now, he realized it had been futile, for that baby no longer existed.

Hundreds of miles away, he could not have imagined Andy’s sable eyes bright with excitement. He could not have imagined the dimple that drew the child’s smile into an impish grin. He could not have imagined his son’s bubbling laughter.

Damn Morse. Damn Morse to hell for robbing him of his son. Zechariah Morse would pay, not just for Lizzie’s death, but for every moment Stephen had missed his son grow up. It was only a matter of time for Morse now.

He moved from behind the tree and watched as the child stumbled after the dog on the uneven ground. The animal must have sensed his presence. The spaniel stopped for a moment, letting the boy catch up, then approached Stephen warily.

He collected himself, crouched down, and extended a hand to the hesitant animal. “Come here fella. Are you a good dog? I’ll bet you are. Come here.” He slapped his thigh and the curious dog ambled over.

Andy stopped about six feet from him. The boy watched curiously as the dog sniffed him and then complacently accepted a good head scratching.

“Dog,” the boy demanded.

Stephen tried not to stare at the boy. He didn’t want to send him fleeing into the house.

“Is he yours?” Stephen asked.

“Mine.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dog.”

Stephen smiled. “Dog. That’s an intelligent choice of names. Andy, I think you have inherited not only your father’s good looks but his keen intelligence as well. What do you think?”

Andy smiled, warming to the stranger who knew his name.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Shall we make Dog fetch?”

He picked up a small stick. He showed it to the eager Andy and the less eager dog. Then he threw it across the yard into the sunshine.

“Fetch, boy. Fetch.”

He looked expectantly at the lounging dog only to realize that the animal had no intention of moving from his idyllic shady spot under the tree. He addressed the dog more forcefully this time. “Get it, boy. Go on.”

To his shock and surprise, Andy took off across the grass, pursuing the tossed object.

He smiled when Andy returned with the stick, his dark head barely reaching his own knee.

“Perhaps we should try again with the dog.” He sat down on the grass beside the boy.

Stephen placed a finger on Andy’s middle. “Andy,” he repeated slightly self-consciously. Then he pointed to the dog lounging twenty feet away under the crab apple. He waited expectantly.

“Dog.” Andy beamed.

Stephen laughed.

Andy laughed as well, pleased to have a new friend.

A wave of protectiveness swept over Stephen. He wanted to reach out and pull the child to him—to enfold him in his arms. The feeling was suffocating in its intensity.

He was forced to look away from Andy for a moment. He had never given much thought to the powerful emotions that seeing his son might evoke. Now, he was in danger of losing control. He had survived the last two years by remembering the bitterness and the hate. He had chosen to forget the intractable force of love.

A small hand touched his shoulder. He smiled to soothe his son’s obvious concern. “It’s all right, Andy.”

Once more the boy touched his own chest. “Andy,” he repeated, then he stretched out a finger to touch Stephen’s chest. The warm pad of Andy’s finger penetrated the fine linen of his shirt and warmed the flesh above his heart.

The muscles of his neck tightened and a burning sensation closed his throat, making it difficult to speak. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch the silky dark hair that was inches from his face, to touch the soft skin of Andy’s reddened cheek.

The small finger on his chest became more insistent. Finally, Stephen placed his own fingertip over Andy’s small one. “Papa.”

The word sounded foreign, especially coming as it did—tight and strained—but Andy smiled, pleased.

Stephen tossed the stick again. For a moment, he and Andy watched the dog as it ambled after the wooden branch. Then Andy climbed into his open lap, his sweet-smelling hair soft beneath his chin.

Stephen was afraid to move—afraid to disturb the moment. Then he dared bend his head and press a kiss against the dark curls. When Andy did not budge, he gently drew the contented child against his chest until he could feel Andy’s heartbeat through the layers of his clothes. The moment was sweeter than any dream.

The rear door of the house opened behind them. Stephen bridled at the interruption. He rose, taking Andy in his arms as he did. He turned to face the anger of the child’s nursemaid.

Instead, he faced the wrath of Katherine Barker.

…

Kate was more than startled by the scene of father and son together.

“How dare you.”

She waited for a response, angry that a flush had crept into her cheeks and her heart had jumped at the sight of Stephen Worth. He was dressed once more as a gentleman. The fine broadcloth of his jacket and the softness of his white cravat were reminiscent of the night of the ball. She was losing control, not just of her son, but of herself as well. She lashed out.