Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) (7 page)

“I hesitate to name him.”

“But why?”

Abigail blinked her eyes, trying to clear her vision. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I will tell you. He is the ... duke of Ravenworth,” she said at last, her eyes begging for understanding. “He loves me, and he will be happy about the baby—you’ll see.”

Kassidy had never heard of the duke, but it was hard for her to believe a man of such high rank would keep his wife in such straitened circumstances.

Anger burned in her heart for the man who had hidden her sister away. Although the Maragon family had no great wealth, their lineage was a long and honorable one. Abigail was the daughter of a viscount, and the granddaughter of a Scottish laird. Surely she was good enough for the mighty duke of Ravenworth.

Kassidy’s eyes fastened on her sister’s chest, and she was aware that Abigail’s breathing was labored and shallow.

“Take the baby to him, at Ravenworth Castle, Kassidy. I want her to be with her father, but you must see her as often as you can.” She blinked back her tears. “She will need you, just as I have always needed you.”

Kassidy was unable to answer because of the aching throb in her throat. Tears streamed down her face and fell hotly against her clasped hands.

“Promise me . . . Kassidy.”

The words were wrenched out of Kassidy. “I promise.”

A calm settled over Abigail’s features. “I am . . . contented.” And with that, she drew in a long shuddering breath and her body went limp.

An anguished cry tore from Kassidy’s lips.

“No, God, please no! Don’t take Abigail from me.”

Kassidy stayed beside her dead sister throughout the night, crying tears of grief. When the sun came up, she sent Tetch to deliver the tragic news to Aunt Mary.

She refused Maude’s offer to prepare her sister for burial. Kassidy insisted on dressing Abigail in her finest gown. She then brushed her golden hair until it shone. She crossed Abigail’s hands over her chest, and kissed her cold lips. She was as beautiful in death as she had been in life. Kassidy prayed that her sweet sister had found peace at last.

With a last long look at Abigail, she descended the stairs to find the baby. Without looking on the face of the child, she picked her up and turned to Maude.

“When my aunt arrives, tell her I have taken the baby to her father. She will make all the arrangements for my sister’s”—tears brightened her eyes, and she choked them back—“my sister’s burial.”

Maude nodded, her shrewd eyes seeing past the young girl’s hurt. “I overheard you and your sister talking. If you are to take the baby on a journey, you will need help.”

“If you heard the conversation, perhaps you can tell me who the duke of Ravenworth is.”

“I know only what I’ve heard, and that is he’s the head of the powerful DeWinter family. I had thought him an old man, but I must be mistaken if he fathered your sister’s child.”

For the first time, Kassidy looked at the baby. Golden curls, so like Abigail’s, covered the child’s head, and the likeness stabbed Kassidy with renewed grief. Even though she tried, Kassidy could not blame the helpless infant for her sister’s death. But she did not want to love this child if she had to give her up.

She held the baby tightly, steeling herself against a second loss.

“You’ll need a wet nurse,” Maude said, catching her attention again. “I know a trustworthy woman who just might be willing to accompany you on your journey.”

“Will you arrange it for me?”

The old woman nodded. “I suppose you’ll be using the public coach.”

“I have no choice. Tetch has taken the buggy and I am not certain when he will return. I must leave at once.”

“You will not stay to see your sister buried?”

Kassidy looked at the floor because she could not look into the midwife’s eyes. “I have already said my farewell to my sister.”

“Then I’ll see that Heloise Gibbins meets you at the coaching inn within the hour.”

The midwife moved to the door, slipping her bag over her shoulder.

“Is it far to Ravenworth Castle?” Kassidy wanted to know.

Maude pursed her lips and said in a ponderous voice, “For you, it could turn out to be a journey without end.”

“What do you mean?”

The old woman shrugged. “I mean nothing. But have a care. You cannot just walk up to a duke and present him with a child.”

Kassidy’s eyes blazed with a determined light. “Oh, can I not? We shall just see about that. He may be a man of great wealth and power, but I will make him do right by this child.”

8

Kassidy had spent four uncomfortable days in an overcrowded public conveyance. She was angry when she stepped down from the coach in the village of Ravenworth. She had very little money, and it would take most of that to pay the wet nurse and for food and lodging. She only hoped she would have enough for the coach fare home.

With Mrs. Gibbins at her side, Kassidy crossed the street and headed toward the Blue Feather Posting Inn, with the intention of finding a room so she could tidy up before setting off for the castle.

She looked up at the imposing fortress that dominated the small village, and for the first time, she felt fear lurking at the edge of her mind. But she must not give way to that fear, or she could not fulfill Abigail’s wish. Her strongest emotion, grief, she would give in to later. She must call on all her strength to get her through the next few hours without weeping for Abigail.

Looking at the steep incline that led to the castle, she considered for the first time that the duke might not be at home. Then her journey would have been in vain. Her gaze moved to the battlement of the castle, and she saw with relief that his flag was flying, proclaiming he was in residence.

A horrifying thought struck her. Suppose the reason the duke had wanted his identity kept a secret was that he already had a wife. What if he had tricked Abigail into believing he had married her when he really hadn’t? Would he even want to acknowledge the baby?

How could she place Abigail’s baby in the hands of such a monster?

Raile moved the length of his study, considering how much there was to be done to the castle to make it livable. And there were numerous other responsibilities that went with the dukedom, but had been neglected for many years. At times he wished the title and lands had fallen to Hugh, so he would be free of the burden.

He sat down at the heavy oak desk, his gaze moving along the dusty bookshelves. The neglect had even extended to this room. Old and valuable books would have to be rebound, or they would crumble to dust. It might even be too late to save some of them.

When the rap came at the door, he glanced up at Ambrose with annoyance. He had given instructions that he was not to be disturbed.

“Begging your pardon, your grace,” Ambrose said apologetically, “but there is a young woman at the front door demanding to see you. I told her you were not receiving today, but she insists that she will not leave until she speaks with you.”

“Did she give her name?”

“No, your grace, she refused.”

“Did she give any indication what she wanted?” he asked, irritably.

“No, your grace. She would not say. But she did ask if you were married or had any children.”

“I suppose it’s another villager wanting a position,” Raile signed in exasperation. “Have Mrs. Fitzwilliams tend to the woman.”

“I would not have brought the matter to your grace’s attention, but she seems to be a lady. She’s accompanied by a servant, and an infant, I believe.”

Raile thought of the paperwork that needed his attention. Since attempting to restore the castle, his days were filled with one crisis after another. If it wasn’t the gardener complaining about blight killing the grass, or the housekeeper insisting she did not have enough help, it was Hugh and his mother. And if that wasn’t enough, the workmen were awaiting their instructions so they could begin their day.

With resignation, he nodded to Ambrose. “I’ll see her. But make it clear that I have very little time to spend with her.”

With growing trepidation, Kassidy glanced about the imposing great hall with its high, ornate gesso ceilings. The room was enriched with colored glass and mullioned windows. Arras of gold and silk decorated the oak-paneled walls.

At one time the castle must have been magnificent, but now it seemed to be suffering from neglect. There was a musty smell that pervaded the air. The carvings on the woodwork were chipped, and the once valuable silk tapestries were in tatters. It was a pity such a lovely old castle had been allowed to fall into ruin, she thought.

In her mind the condition of the room represented the man she now hated. He seemed to care neither for people nor possessions.

The butler returned and motioned for Kassidy to accompany him. “His grace has kindly agreed to see you. But you must understand that he is a busy man.”

Kassidy took the baby from the wet nurse and instructed the woman to wait for her. Then she stiffly followed the butler out of the great hall, across a worn Turkish carpet, and down an arched hallway.

What would she say to the duke when she confronted him?

Her footsteps lagged when the butler paused before a thick oak door.

“Go right in. His grace is expecting you.”

With the baby clutched to her like a shield, Kassidy advanced with the fervor of a charging warrior.

She stopped short as a burst of sunlight streamed into the room from the floor-to-ceiling windows, blinding her for a moment. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw her enemy sitting at a massive oak desk, watching her progress with bored indifference.

Kassidy felt her anger increase with each step that brought her nearer to the man she loathed. She had not expected the duke to be so dark since the baby was so fair. His dark eyes were like needles, boring into her. A cynical twist to his mouth told her he scoffed at life. She was further enraged when he did not show her the courtesy of rising when she entered the room, but merely nodded to the chair in front of his desk.

“Madame, I am told you insisted on seeing me.” He glanced at the mantel clock as if to show his impatience. “I have little time, so if you could state your reason for being here, it would be appreciated.”

“It’s ‘miss,’ not ‘madame.’” Her voice had come out low, and trembled with the conflicting emotions she was feeling. “I am unmarried.”

He glanced at the baby. “Excuse my mistake, Miss ... ?”

“Miss Maragon.”

He was reflective for a moment. “Some years ago, I met Lord Henry Maragon. Is he a relative of yours?”

Kassidy glared at him. Why had he not mentioned that he also knew Abigail Maragon? The devil was even more devious than she had expected. “Yes,” she said defiantly. “Henry is my brother.”

“I see,” Raile answered, still mystified.

“Do you? I doubt it.”

He frowned at her biting tone. “Then perhaps you should enlighten me.”

Totally bewildered, Raile assessed her carefully. She was young, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. It was difficult to tell much about her because her hair was hidden beneath a wide-brimmed straw bonnet that also hid most of her forehead. She was thin, and her gown was outdated, and he could see it had been mended on the sleeves.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am,” Kassidy challenged.

He looked into her magnificent green eyes, and some vague memory stirred to life. In the recesses of his mind he remembered eyes like hers, but he could not remember when they might have met. There was an air of pride about her, but he also detected defiance. When he looked deeply into those eyes, he sensed an anger that he did not understand.

“You say you are Lord Maragon’s sister. How may I be of service to you, Miss Maragon?”

His liquid brown eyes were mesmerizing. Kassidy could see how Abigail had been attracted to this man with his broad shoulders and his dark good looks. But he wasn’t going to deceive her as he had Abigail—she knew his true character.

She thrust the baby forward. “Here, your grace, this baby is your responsibility,” she blurted out, watching his face for his reaction. She saw only a slight dilation of his dark eyes. Here was a man, she thought furiously, who was schooled in masking his emotions. Most probably he was accustomed to spreading his seed about indiscriminately. Well, he wasn’t going to turn his back on Abigail’s daughter.

He towered above her. “I don’t know what you are about, Miss Maragon—if that is truly your name—but I assure you that you cannot pass off your . . . indiscretions on me. We both know I never fathered a child by you.”

She gasped and stepped back a pace. Was he mad? Oh, he was black-hearted.

“I can assure you that I am not duped by your tactics. This child is yours, and I place her in your keeping. You have not even asked about the pain and suffering it took to give her birth.”

The duke was shocked. “Miss Maragon, I don’t think we should be discussing these matters.” He moved around the desk to stand beside her. “Perhaps it would be best if you leave now. Then we shall both forget this has ever happened. Go home to the young gentleman who got you with child and beseech him to make you his wife.”

He had spoken softly, but there was a hardness in his voice.

“Oh, you are clever, your grace. I can see that I must force you to accept your responsibility.”

In a movement that surprised him, she thrust the child into his arms and rushed toward the door. “I have brought a woman who is willing to stay on as wet nurse until you can find someone to replace her.”

Her footsteps were hurried, but she paused at the door, trying to choke back tears. “She ... is only five days old. I didn’t name her because I thought you might want to choose her name. She’s ... a good baby and hardly ever cries. Please take care of her.”

Raile was speechless.

He started to go after the woman, but at that moment, the baby let out a loud cry, stopping him in his tracks. He had never held a baby in his arms, and he stared at the child helplessly, fearing he would drop it.

Blinded by tears, Kassidy fled before she gave in to the urge to snatch the baby from the duke’s arms. When she reached the great hall, she paused for only a moment before the wet nurse and dropped some coins in her hand. “Please take care of the baby,” she said, and turned quickly to the door.

“Leave at once,” she told the driver, as she climbed into the hired coach and slammed the door. Her heart was thundering inside her. She was afraid the duke would send someone after her.

As the coach lurched forward with a jerk, Kassidy looked back at the castle. After a while, she lost some of her apprehension. Apparently the duke did not intend to pursue her.

With a loud sob, Kassidy buried her face in her hands. She had never expected it to be so painful to leave the baby. But she had kept her promise, and that was all she could do.

In giving up the child, she felt as if she had severed her last link with her beloved sister.

She lay her head against the seat and sobbed out her misery. She cried for Abigail, she cried for the baby, and she cried for herself.