The Irish Upstart (9 page)

“
Fine, let him.
”
Mama’s voice. She had come outside to join them. Wrapping a shawl about her thin shoulders, she continued,
“
I don’t care if Patrick stands to inherit the crown of England. I don’t care how poor we are, he’ll be better off right here in County Clare than he’d ever be in England.
”
Even in the darkness, Evleen could see her mother proudly lift her chin.
“
My son is Irish born and bred, sir. This is where he belongs. As long as I have a breath in my body, he’ll not set a foot across the Irish Sea.
”

Shoulders set in a resolute manner, Mama spun on her heel and marched back inside.

“
Then that’s the end of it,
”
said Evleen.

“
So it would appear.
”
He sounded regretful.

She had to admit to herself that Lord Thomas was not at fault. Obviously he had nothing personal to gain, and his genuine concern had been for Patrick, not himself.
“
I appreciate your interest.
It appears you have nothing to gain from this. I must say, you’re not a bad sort, for an Englishman.
”

He laughed.
“
I’m glad you don’t find me the complete villain. Lord Trevlyn is my father’s best friend. I was simply doing him a favor, checking on his land. Had I known I’d discover he had a grandson—
”

“
But you won’t tell him, will you?
”
She was suddenly concerned, aware this might not be the end of it. She waited for his reply, but he was silent.
“
Will you?
”
she repeated suspiciously.

“
I
...”
Thomas paused, as if in deep thought.
“
In all good conscience, I cannot promise I won’t inform Lord Trevlyn he has a grandson.
”

“
But why?
”
she asked, suddenly alarmed.
“
What good would it do? My mother told you what she thought, and I agree. Patrick is Irish through and through. He’s done without Lord Trevlyn and... and
...”
sputtering, she continued,
“
all those English relatives all his life. Why would he want anything to do with them now?
”

“
Perhaps you should ask Patrick.
”

“
I don’t need to ask Patrick,
”
Evleen replied, her anger mounting. And just when she was beginning to like this man.
“
Patrick is very bright, I grant you, but he’s still a child. He will do what his mother thinks best for him. And what’s best for him is to stay here in County Clare and not be torn from the arms of his loving family.
”

“
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–
”

“
Is there something wrong, Evleen?
”

It was Timothy, come to check on her. Good. His timing was perfect.
“
There’s nothing wrong, Timothy. Lord Thomas and I were having a discussion, but now we’re almost done.
”
She raised her chin, having only one more thing to say to this troublesome Englishman.
“
You English look down upon us Irish. Don’t deny it. You think because we’re poor, we’re ignorant. You think our children are all illegitimate and we find the ultimate solution to all our problems at the bottom of a glass of Guiness.
”

Even in the darkness she could tell Lord Thomas was taken aback.
“
But I hardly think–
”

“
Let me finish,
”
she declared, her brogue growing thicker as she talked.
“
We may not be rich, but we are just as good as you are, sir. Just as smart, and just as capable of guiding our own lives. The O’Fallon’s are a happy family, and that includes Patrick, despite this business you’re tellin’ us now about being an heir apparent. Saints preserve us
!
He’s an O’Fallon, through and through, so think about what I said, and don’t be causin’ any more trouble than you’ve already caused.
”
She bobbed her head to signal the end of her pronouncement.
“
Let’s go inside, shall we, Timothy?
”

Thomas watched as Timothy, his arm still protectively around Evleen, led her back into the cottage.
I should be insulted
, he thought.
Angry
. But despite himself, his stomach clenched with a feeling he had never, in all his thirty years, experienced before. Jealousy. He had a sudden, totally unreasonable urge to punch the big Irishman square in the nose and grab the girl away.
How totally uncivilized
. He could hardly believe it of himself. Despite being a second son, he had never been compelled to lift a finger to attract any woman he chose. Strange, but her words had not stung him in the least. Instead, as he’d listened to her ranting, all he could really hear was the entrancing sound of her melodious voice, her words becoming more and more Irish, flowing from her sweet mouth in that beautiful, lulling brogue.

When he returned to the cottage, not sure of the welcome he’d receive, Sinead O’Fallon greeted him graciously and apologized.
“
You must understand how we feel, sir, and it’s nothing personal. You and O’Grady must spend the night if you don’t mind makeshift beds in front of the fireplace.
”

He had said nothing more, and in the morning, after a near sleepless night full of O’Grady’s snoring and his own tossing and turning, they left amidst a chorus of friendly goodbyes. Even Evleen shook his hand, but her words were a final plea.
“
Leave us be. Please don’t tell.
”

“
I cannot promise.
”

For a moment, she seemed to pause and reflect, and then smiled gently.
“
Then I can but wish you
siochain leat
, sir,
”
she answered softly.
“
That means peace be with you.
”

He left, deeply affected by the young woman’s graciousness in the face of his intractability. No truer lady could be found anywhere in England, he thought, and knew that although he would never see her again, he would have a most difficult time forgetting Evleen O’Fallon.

* * *

Despite the warm weather, the return journey from Ireland to England was not a comfortable one. The easiest part was his trip across Ireland, via Bianconi Coach, to the port of Ringsend, called by all a
“
vile, filthy, disgraceful-looking village
”
which, despite its poor reputation, was the busy port from which Thomas took the packet that crossed the Irish Sea to Holyhead in Wales. The seventy-mile journey took the better part of a day. What a miserable boat ride, Thomas glumly reflected more than once. For the fare of ten and six, he was given the great privilege of taking passage on a ship where facilities were primitive and minimal, where the air was confined and nauseating, and where, for most of the unfortunate passengers, seasickness was a constant misery. At least he’d been spared that final indignity, Thomas reflected, as the ship approached Holyhead. Still, his journey had been a discomfiting one. He could easily tolerate the physical discomforts, but ever since he’d left that little cottage in County Clare, his usual serenity had been shaken to the core. Up until now, his well-ordered life had contained few dilemmas, but over and over, he now wondered, should he tell or should he not tell? Sinead O’Fallon and her daughter, Evleen, had been adamant in their plea that Lord Trevlyn not be told he had a grandson. With good reason, too, Thomas mused. Despite his family’s poverty, the boy was bright, healthy, and obviously happy, right where he was. Why chance fate? If Trevlyn knew of the grandson, he would not only want to see the boy, he would no doubt seek custody. After all, Patrick could live a life of ease and luxury, waited on hand and foot, with everything he could possibly need.

But what does he need he doesn’t have right now?

And that wasn’t all. To his great chagrin, Thomas could not get Evleen off his mind. You will never see her again, he kept telling himself. He had done his duty, both to his father and Lord Trevlyn. Of a certainty, he would never make this unpleasant trip again. All memories fade, given time, but again last night the beautiful face of Evleen O’Fallon glimmered before his eyes, keeping him awake far past the time he should rightfully be asleep. There was absolutely no future in thinking about her, he kept telling himself, but he did, just the same.

And then there was Patrick. What should he do? He despised indecision.

The ship was delayed by the tides for hours. Finally, as it slipped into Holyhead Harbor, he made up his mind. He would not say a word to Lord Trevlyn. The boy was happy where he was, in County Clare, Ireland, and there he should remain.

Chapter 6

“
So, Thomas, how was your journey?
”
asked Penelope.

In the drawing room of Northfield Hall, Thomas, who had just arrived home, made a wry face as his sister poured from a silver gilt pitcher and handed him a delicate bone china cup of tea.
“
The journey was wonderful,
”
he replied,
“
if you like tossing about in a filthy boat for a day, then waiting for hours at Holyhead until the tides are favorable enough for you to get ashore.
”

“
You seem to have survived,
”
Penelope remarked dryly. She stirred daintily.
“
I take it things did not go well?
”

“
Well enough.
”
Thomas described the first part of his journey, wherein he visited their father’s lands in County Mayo and assured himself they were in good hands.
“
And then I went to County Clare
...”

Knowing his sister was the only person in the world in whom he could confide everything, or at least almost everything, Thomas related the story of his visit to the cottage at Galway Bay and his astonishment at finding that Montfret had a wife and child. He told everything, omitting only his turbulent feelings concerning the Irish girl.
“
Afterward, I struggled, trying make up my mind what best to do. It was not an easy decision, but I’ve decided not to tell Lord Trevlyn he has a grandson.
”

“
But that’s wrong,
”
Penelope firmly declared.
“
Think of the wealth, the title. At the very least, shouldn’t the boy be allowed to decide for himself?
”

“
His mother is adamant,
”
Thomas explained,
“
and who can blame her? Being pure Irish, she has always disliked the English, but now, after her experience with Randall, she hates everything about us. Ask yourself, why would she want to send her one-and-only beloved son to the very land she detests?
”

“
Hmm... you have a point, I suppose.
”
Penelope’s bright eyes flashed with excitement.
“
Good grief, just think of the stir this would cause. Wouldn’t tongues be wagging! If Patrick were to be proclaimed the true heir, then that little worm, Walter Trevlyn, and his family would be deposed.
”
An impish grin crept over her face.
“
Wouldn’t we love to see Lydia and those stuck-up daughters of hers taken down a peg or two.
”

“
What an uncharitable thought,
”
Thomas admonished, although he could not suppress an answering smile.
“
But despite the shortcomings of the heir presumptive and family, I have made up my mind.
”
He frowned.
“
Now I must ride to Aldershire Manor and inform Lord Trevlyn of my return.
”

“
But if you conceal the news he has a grandson, won’t you be forced to lie?
”

“
I should hope not.
”

“
So do I. Really, Thomas, you’re not a very good liar.
”

“
I take that as a compliment.
”

Penelope wrinkled up her nose.
“
You are not as natty as you think, brother dear. According to the London dandies, lying is an art. Well, you’re no artist. Your problem is, to be a first-rate liar, you must possess some finesse, and you have none.
”
With sisterly derision, she continued,
“
You are much too blunt.
”