Free Elisabeth Fairchild by Valentine's Change of Heart Page B

Not a pretty sight.
    “His parents were repulsed by his behavior. They’d no idea how to tame him. So, they took off for a tour of Europe. Left his lordship to sink or swim on his own, and he was sinking, my dear. I thought sure he would drown himself.”
    “I do understand,” she said.
    “I’d no wish to be around, you will understand. It was a dreadful business. Only Yarrow, the butler, and a few of the maids stuck with him through the worst of it.”
    Worst, indeed! Here are my greatest fears confirmed. His lordship is all that I have heard of him and more! He is, God forbid, my father all over again.
    Shaken, she asked, “What sign did you get?”
    “Hmm?” Mrs. Olive cupped her hand to her ear.
    “You mentioned a sign. How did you know it was right to go back to him?”
    “Well, I heard he went nigh mad with worry over the child, didn’t I? Betsy, the upstairs maid, told me how it was he had called upon Miss Foster, of all people, to sit with poor Felicity through the worst of the fever.”
    “Penny Foster? Felicity has mentioned her.”
    “Well, when I heard that she went to him, of all people, poor child, that she could forgive him after all that he had done, well, how could I do any less once he got shot and came off of the liquor?”
    “Shot?”
    “Oh, aye. Cupid shot him. In the leg.” She lowered her voice. “To stop him, you see.”
    “Stop what?”
    “Why, suicide, love. ‘E was on his way up the mountain with poor fevered Felicity, ready to throw himself off a cliff. Thought she was dead, you see. Thought he had killed her, getting drunk while she was ill.”
    “No!”
    “Oh, aye. Truth be told. God Bless Master Cupid and Miss Penny for stopping ‘im.”
    “Was he in love with her? This Penny Foster?”
    “Aye, love. A canny one you are to ask. Still is, if I read the signs right. But that is another story and another time to tell it. The wee one stirs.” She whisked herself away, through the curtain, toward the bed, where she said, without taking pause for breath, “And how are you this fine morning, Miss Felicity? Ready to rise and shine?”
    Elaine stood at the mirror, the braided tail of her hair grasped in her hand, the braided tail of Lord Wharton’s past harder to grasp. Valentine almost killed Felicity? He had been drunk when she was ill? Oh papa, how can men so forget themselves?
    She watched the dear child stretch and yawn in the bed. She wondered about this woman, Penny, whom his lordship still pined for. What was it Valentine Wharton had done to her, that she must forgive him for it?
    Will I ever forgive papa? Neatly rolling the end of the braid into a knot at the nape of her neck, she pinned it into place. I cannot do it again. I cannot place myself in such a man’s care.
    Felicity’s touch startled her, the child’s hand tucking into hers. “Your hair is very pretty that way,” Felicity stared up at her, eyes wide, very blue. Her father’s eyes. “Will you dress mine in the same fashion?”
    “If you like,” Elaine said. Her hands delved the soft, wildness of Felicity’s curls. Wrapped around her finger. I am wrapped around her finger.
    They went down to breakfast together, Felicity’s hand in hers, their hair identically plaited, and in the mirror on the landing it was not Lord Wharton’s child she saw smiling back at her, but the mirror image of herself at a much younger age.
    I cannot leave her, anymore than I would abandon myself.
     
    They were met in the private breakfast room his lordship had booked by a booted and spurred Valentine, coffee cup in hand. He does not look like a drunkard.
    Elaine tried to imagine this handsome, well-built young man with speech, gaze and gate affected, to imagine this snide, self-confident creature ready to take his own life, for his illegitimate daughter’s sake. His eyes were bright. His gaze intent and clear. How do I look to those eyes?
    “A word, Miss Deering,” he said when she would have turned along with