Kent's Orphans: The Prisoner Part 8

It was best to leave here quietly, without creating a scene.

He glanced at Genevieve, who stood frozen, her luminous brown eyes large and filled with anxiety. Suddenly there was much he wanted to say to her, and now he never would. He wanted to thank her, not just for her tender care and shelter, but for something far more. For showing him that there were people in the world who were genuinely good. That had been an extraordinary revelation for him, and he was glad that he had learned it before his impending death. He also wanted to thank her for rescuing Jack from that cesspool of a prison and offering him a chance to make a new life. And for believing, however briefly, that there actually might have been something worth redeeming within Haydon's own battered soul.

He stared at her, shrouding his emotions with cold indifference, not wanting the others to have any inkling of his feelings toward her. He would not implicate Miss MacPhail in this matter any more than was absolutely necessary. He would tell Constable Drummond that he had forced his way into this home. He would say that he had threatened to kill all of them in the most hideous manner if they didn't do his bidding. He regarded her intently as he swiftly formulated this plan, his expression hard, hoping that she would somehow sense what he could neither show nor speak.

Then he pulled his gaze away and calmly regarded his captors, his relaxed stance betraying no hint of the agonizing regret coursing through his veins.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Charles with forced civility as he stared up at Haydon, "have we been introduced?"

"No," interjected Genevieve firmly before Haydon could respond. "You have not."

Her heart pounded wildly against the wall of her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Until that moment she had been too overwhelmed with shock and fear to have any clear thought on how to handle the situation. But the fact that Charles honestly did not know who Haydon was shook her from her numbness. Charles had never met Lord Redmond, she realized. A quick look at both Governor Thomson and Constable Drummond revealed that they, too, were not entirely sure that the elegantly attired man standing with such a.s.sured composure before them was the dangerous murderer they sought. It was this slight uncertainty, this faint possibility that there was a sufficient difference in Haydon's appearance and manner and dress, that spurred her to action. When she had first seen Lord Redmond rising from the chair in her drawing room, she had found the changes in his manner and appearance dramatic, and she had had the opportunity to study him at length as he lay upstairs in her relatively well-lit chamber. She could only hope that for Governor Thomson and Constable Drummond, who had viewed the man before them only as a filthy, feverish drunk with scraggly hair and many days' growth of rough beard lying in a ragged uniform inside a miserably lit cell, the difference was even more compelling.

Everyone was staring at her expectantly, including Haydon, who could not imagine what tale she was about to weave. Her mind swiftly considered and rejected a list of possibilities of who Haydon might be. Cousin. Uncle. Friend. Acquaintance.

Ultimately there was only one role that she believed would offer him the requisite protection he so desperately needed.

"Gentlemen, I should like to introduce you to Mr. Maxwell Blake-my husband."

She did not know who within the crowded drawing room looked more shocked-her children, her uninvited guests or Eunice, Doreen and Oliver, who were blinking in astonishment.

"Married?" sputtered Charles, his watery, gray eyes nearly popping from his head. "You got married?"

"Yes." She moved to Haydon's side and looked up at him, smiling brightly, surrept.i.tiously pleading with him to play along with her ruse. Haydon stared back at her, careful to keep his expression composed as he considered this inconceivable turn of events.

And then, realizing he had no choice, he placed his hand at her back in a gesture that clearly intimated the proprietary rights of a husband. She trembled beneath his touch, and it pained him deeply to think of how great her fear was at that moment.

"Yes," he said, firmly drawing her against the solid wall of his body. "I'm afraid we did."

His powerful arm wrapped about her like a heavy shield, and the heat of his flesh penetrated the thin fabric of her dress, helping to ease her shivering. Genevieve knew she had set them upon a treacherous path, but at that moment she could think of no other way to save him. Drawing strength from the hardness of him pressing against her, she inhaled a steadying breath and forged ahead.

"Maxwell," she continued pleasantly, "this is Lord Linton, an old friend who I'm certain will want you to call him Charles, and Governor Thomson, the esteemed governor of our jail, who in the past has been so supportive of my efforts to help the children. And this is Police Constable Drummond, who works hard to keep the streets of Inveraray safe for all of us."

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, gentlemen." Haydon extended his hand to each of them. "Especially you, Charlie." Haydon enjoyed the flash of irritation that tightened Charles's mouth. "My wife has spoken to me about each of you at length."

"But-how?" demanded Charles, whose face had reddened to an extraordinary shade of scarlet. "When?"

"Actually, we were married a few months ago," Genevieve supplied, her mind whirling as she struggled to fabricate a credible sequence of events. "You may remember, Charles, that I had to travel to Glasgow to oversee some business matters regarding my father's estate. Maxwell and I met at an art gallery there."

"My wife and I share a similar pa.s.sion for art." Haydon smiled fondly at her.

"I'm afraid our courtship was rather brief," Genevieve added, frantically trying to work out the details in her mind.

"I asked for her hand the very day that we met," continued Haydon smoothly. "As I'm sure you gentlemen can appreciate, I was utterly overwhelmed by her beauty, and was absolutely determined that she not escape my grasp." He cast a thoroughly self-satisfied look at Charles, indicating that he was well aware of his wife's prior relationship to him.

"She wouldn't have me at first," he confessed, chuckling. "Fortunately, I am not a man who backs down easily from a challenge-especially when the rewards promise to be so great." He caressed her cheek lightly with the back of his fingers, then smiled with husbandly amus.e.m.e.nt at the rosy blush that flooded her skin.

"Well, I believe congratulations are in order," managed Governor Thomson, who still looked utterly astounded.

"Thank you, governor," said Haydon. "Your good wishes are most welcome."

"I'm confused as to why you failed to mention your recent marriage when we called upon you a few days ago." Constable Drummond's gaze bore into Genevieve, trying to delve beneath the surface of her breathless performance.

"I'm afraid I am responsible for that," Haydon a.s.serted, unfazed. "Business matters in London have kept me from joining my new family until now, and my wife and I had decided that we would not tell anyone of our marriage until I had actually settled in a bit here in Inveraray. We were particularly concerned that the children might grow inordinately anxious about my impending arrival if they knew about it too far in advance. As I have only been here a few days, and we have been keeping mostly to ourselves, my wife has been reticent to announce our union. On the morning you unexpectedly called," he continued, making only a slight emphasis on the fact that they had not been invited over, "I had not yet finished dressing and was therefore unable to come down and be properly introduced. Finally, I don't believe my wife has grown quite accustomed to her new status as a married woman-have you, Mrs. Blake?" He flashed her a devastatingly charming smile, which had the immediate effect of flooding Genevieve's cheeks with color once again. "I'm sure you gentlemen can understand our desire for privacy after such a lengthy separation," he finished, grinning broadly.

"Ah yes, of course," said Governor Thomson, looking thoroughly uncomfortable with such a delicate subject. He cleared his throat. "Absolutely."

Charles glared at Haydon with barely concealed acrimony. "Of course," he bit out stiffly.

His loathing was palpable to Haydon. It was clear to him that the earl was painfully unresolved about his decision to break his betrothal to Genevieve. Perhaps he had long soothed his ire by convincing himself that no one else would ever want her. The thought infuriated Haydon. He found himself wondering what vacuous, servile chit poor Charles had found to marry in her stead.

The sound of a stomach growling filled the uncomfortable silence.

"Are we going to have supper soon?" Simon wondered, rubbing his belly. "I'm starving."

"Sweet saints, I've forgotten my haggis!" burst out Eunice. "Here it is, nearly supper time and I've nae mashed my tatties. Do excuse me, Miss Genevieve-and of course you, too, Mr. Blake...sir." She bobbed a quick, clumsy curtsy at the two of them, then bustled out of the room.

"Oh my, I didn't realize 'twas so late," Doreen added, glancing at the clock on the fireplace mantel. "Come, my chicks, ye can help me lay the table for supper." She headed toward the door, then stopped suddenly. "Providin', of course, that's all right with ye, Mr. and Mrs. Blake." Her knees cracked like dry kindling as she also dipped awkwardly before her supposed employers.

"That is fine, Doreen." Genevieve was thankful to Eunice and Doreen for making it clear to their unwanted guests that it was late and their visit should come to an end. "Mr. Blake and I will be in the dining room shortly."

"Off we go, then, children," said Oliver. "Let's see if we can get some of the grime off yer hands afore ye start touchin' all those plates and forks."

The children hesitated.

"Come and see how well I can fold the napkins, Mr. Blake," Jamie pleaded, taking Haydon's hand. "I've been practicing."

"And I want to show you how well I polished the teapot." Charlotte limped over to Haydon and tentatively laid her fingers upon his sleeve.

She was shivering, Haydon realized. Something told him that her fear was not solely for his fate, but also for her own. A quick perusal of their guests revealed that Constable Drummond was staring at her with particular contempt. An unfamiliar feeling of protectiveness seeped through Haydon. He released his hold on Genevieve to pull Charlotte between them, then laid his hand with gentle rea.s.surance on the fragile child's thin shoulder.

"I would very much like to see that, Charlotte," he murmured, his voice low and sure.

"Oliver said a genie would come out if we polished the silver long enough, but nothing happened," complained Annabelle, winding an arm around Genevieve's waist. "Do you believe in genies, Mr. Blake?"

"Everyone knows there's no such thing," Simon scoffed. He took his place beside Jamie, thereby completing the shielding ring of children around Genevieve and Haydon. "There's no scientific evidence to prove it."

Although each of the children had befriended him by wandering into his room over the past few days to see how he was faring, Haydon knew this demonstration of protection was for Genevieve, whom they all adored. Genevieve was trying desperately to safeguard him, and the children were doing their utmost to help her. Despite the fact that they were not acting out of any affection for him, Haydon found himself profoundly moved by their actions. Even Jack, who had slunk into a corner when the unexpected visitors arrived, was now leaning against the wall with his fists clenched, as if he intended to attack Constable Drummond should he suddenly decide to arrest Haydon.

"Do forgive us, gentlemen, but I'm afraid dinnertime around here is very much a family endeavor," Haydon said apologetically. "Was there something you needed from my wife and myself?" His question made it clear that as Genevieve's husband, he would be privy to any discussions they might wish to conduct.

"We wanted to ask the boy a few more questions." Constable Drummond fixed his formidable gaze upon Jack.

Jack stiffened.

"About what?" asked Genevieve with forced calm.

"About the prisoner who escaped from jail," Governor Thomson explained.

"Ah, yes, my wife mentioned that to me." Haydon lifted a bemused brow to Constable Drummond, as if he felt such a simple matter must surely have been resolved. "Have you not found the man yet?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"That is unfortunate." Genevieve's voice was tense as she continued, "And by your presence here it seems you have some compelling reason to think that Jack might be able to shed some light on the man's current whereabouts?"

"Of course we will try to a.s.sist you with your investigation in any way that we can," Haydon interjected, giving Genevieve a rea.s.suring squeeze. "Won't we, Jack?"

Jack shrugged. "I already told them, I don't know nothin'."

Haydon frowned. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Jack nodded.

Turning to Constable Drummond, Haydon queried, "Do you have any specific questions you want to ask him-other than, of course, the ones you have already posed in your previous meeting?"

Constable Drummond hesitated, evidently confused by the restriction Haydon had put upon him. "Well, no, not exactly-"

"Forgive me if I'm being overly protective of my new family, constable," Haydon interrupted, "for I can a.s.sure you, we want to a.s.sist you with your investigation in any way that we can. As I'm sure you realize, however, my wife and I are firm believers in the merits of trust. It is only by trusting our children that we can, in turn, teach them the lesson of treating that trust with care. If you intend to ask Jack questions to which he has already provided you with answers, then that means you have come into my home to suggest that a member of my family has lied to you. Is that your intent?"

Constable Drummond's expression tightened. "No."

"We merely wanted to know if any of you have noticed anything unusual over the last few days." Governor Thomson sensed that they were on the cusp of offending Haydon, and that he was not a man who would take such an offense lightly. "Anything at all."

Haydon regarded the circle of children around him. "Have you, children?"

They innocently shook their heads.

"Then I regret that we cannot be of any a.s.sistance to you today, gentlemen," Haydon said, making it clear that his guests' visit was at an end. "We shall be sure to keep you informed should any of us notice anything that we think might be pertinent to your investigation."

"Our apologies for disturbing you, Miss MacPhail-I mean, Mrs. Blake," Governor Thomson hastily corrected himself.

"Not at all, Governor Thomson." Genevieve looked at Charles in feigned confusion. Each time she rescued a child from the prison, Charles made a point of calling upon her to tell her what a hideous mistake she was making, and what a ridiculous mess she had made of her once promising life. Obviously Charles had heard about Jack joining her household, and had come over to share his objection with her. "Was there a purpose to your visit, Charles?"

The earl hesitated. "I wanted to know if you would paint a new portrait of my daughter," he improvised suddenly. "The one you painted three years ago no longer depicts her accurately. That is, of course, if your new husband will permit you to continue painting portraits." He gave Haydon a challenging look.

Charles was trying to determine her new husband's ability to support her, Genevieve realized. Over the years she had struggled constantly with her limited financial resources. By painting portraits of the children of those wealthy aristocrats who had once welcomed her into their homes as a guest, she had managed to help pay for some of her household expenses, thereby slowing the sale of her family's most prized possessions. Although she enjoyed painting immensely, she had been forced to swallow a lifetime of pride the day she had walked into Charles's magnificently appointed home, not as his betrothed or even an honored guest, but as a lowly employee.

She suspected that Charles had only offered her the commission because he derived perverse and bitter delight in seeing her reduced to that position.

She was reluctant to turn down the possibility of earning some money, but she also did not want to make it appear that her new husband was unable to support her and the children. To do so would only invite unpleasant speculation about him. "Maxwell and I have not yet discussed it-"

"You must do whatever pleases you, my dear," interrupted Haydon, immediately sensing Genevieve's dilemma. "If you would find it amusing to paint Charlie's daughter, then by all means, you should go and enjoy yourself."

The redness on Charles's face effused up to the spa.r.s.e roots of his pale hair. "My name is Charles," he managed tautly.

Genevieve hesitated a moment, as if she were trying to decide. "Very well, Charles," she finally relented. "I do enjoy painting portraits, and your daughter is a lovely subject. I would be happy to do this for you." She smiled, pleased that it had sounded as if she were granting him a favor.

"And now, gentlemen, if you will excuse us, I'm afraid we have kept our children from their dinner long enough," said Haydon. "Oliver, would you kindly show our guests to the door?"

"Aye, Mr. Blake, sir," drawled Oliver, who had been itching to perform that very task from the moment they had arrived.

"A pleasure to meet all of you," Haydon said, as Oliver ushered their guests through the corridor. "I hope to see you again soon."

"Just don't make it too soon," muttered Oliver, banging the door shut behind them, "ye miserable bunch of b.l.o.o.d.y, boot-licking-"

"Did you see that?" Jamie demanded excitedly. "They really believe you're married to us!"

"I'm proud to say I had a hand in that," said Eunice, beaming merrily as she returned from the kitchen. "Did ye like the way I curtsied ever so nice for ye?"

"Aye, and me too," Doreen added, following behind her. "And dinna think 'twas easy on these poor old knees!"

"I'd wager they heard them crack all the way up in Oban," said Oliver, chuckling. "I thought it was the floorboards breakin' beneath Governor Thomson's bulk!"

"That Constable Drummond is the nastiest-looking man I have ever seen," remarked Annabelle. "He looks as if he just bit into a lemon."

"At first, I thought he had come for me," Charlotte confessed. "He was so mad when Genevieve took me out of the prison last year."

The knowledge that Charlotte had been afraid caused Genevieve to momentarily dismiss her own fear. She knelt down so she could look Charlotte straight in the eye. "No one is ever going to take you away from me, Charlotte," she told her adamantly. "You must believe me when I tell you that. I will never let anything happen to you-do you understand?"

Charlotte nodded.

"Good." She wrapped her arms around the girl and held her close. "Now go with your brothers and sisters and get ready for dinner. I'll be along in a few minutes."

Haydon waited for the last child to depart before he closed the drawing room doors. He pressed his forehead against them and inhaled deeply, fighting for calm. Finally he turned to face Genevieve.

"Why in the name of G.o.d did you tell them I was your husband?"

"Because I didn't want them to drag you away in front of my children and hang you. And I believed it was the only choice that would adequately explain how you came to be sleeping under my roof."

"You could have said I was your uncle-or even a distant cousin, for G.o.d's sake!"

His anger took her by surprise. "That would have invited too many questions," Genevieve argued. "If you were any other relation to me they would have immediately asked you about where you were staying, when did you arrive, and what was your business while you were here. Any claim of your being an uncle or a cousin could easily be proven false. I am an outcast here, Lord Redmond, and my penchant for doing the unthinkable is well known. Believe me, the people of Inveraray will have little trouble believing that I married a man I had known for only a few days. I have created an entire family out of thieves and urchins I had known for scarcely more than a few minutes. To marry a stranger on a whim is entirely in keeping with the impossibly irrational woman I have become to them."

She was right, Haydon realized, drawing no pleasure from the conclusion. The woman before him had severed her ties with respectability and acceptance the moment she chose to single-handedly raise a thief 's b.a.s.t.a.r.d over a life of tedious comfort with that primping, fatuous peac.o.c.k, Charles.

A stab of irritation p.r.i.c.ked his already dark mood. Just who the h.e.l.l did that idiot think he was, barreling in here and acting as if he had some exclusive right to her? The idea that Genevieve had actually been betrothed to that sniveling, spineless fool filled him with fury. Whatever her father's attributes may have been, it was clear he had not been a discerning judge of character. It had taken nearly every ounce of Haydon's self-control to refrain from booting the pompous imbecile out the door on his expensively wrapped backside.

"I would have thought you might be a little more grateful for the risks I have taken on your behalf," Genevieve continued, incensed that he dared to criticize her. "Did you think that after tending you night after night and making sure you didn't bleed to death or die from fever I would merely stand back and watch as they led you away? If so, then you do not know the first thing about me, Lord Redmond."

Anger had stiffened her stance and heated her cheeks. She looked as if she wanted to strike him. The fact that she faced him so readily, unwilling to back down, touched a deep chord of admiration within him. The irrepressible Miss MacPhail was a woman of astonishing strength and conviction, who would not retreat when she believed she was right. And more, despite the terrible crimes of which he had been accused and convicted, she was quite clearly not afraid of him in the least.

He felt an urge to touch her in that moment, to pull her into his arms and press his mouth to hers, to feel her soft, slender form against him, his hands roaming the firm swells of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she opened her mouth and invited his tongue inside. His body stirred and hardened, filling him with a desire that had long lain dormant, flooding his senses with restless, impossible need.

Appalled, he turned away abruptly. Here he was, in a crowded household filled with children, a hairsbreadth away from being hauled off and executed for murder, and all he wanted to do was bury himself in the woman who was responsible for saving his life.

Clearly, he was losing his mind.

"I did not mean to offend you, Genevieve," he said, raking his hand through his hair. "It's just that I wonder if you have considered the ramifications of the picture you have painted here. You have told the authorities that you and I are married. If I leave now, everyone in Inveraray will know that you have lied. Do you understand what that will mean for you? The relentless Constable Drummond will be breaking down your door, demanding your arrest for hiding an escaped prisoner. Given that justice here finds it appropriate to jail an expectant mother for stealing an apple, I can well imagine what punishment they will decide to inflict upon you. In addition to sending you to prison, they will deem you to be an unfit parent and take your children away."