The next morning, to avoid any chance of running into Lord Erran, Celeste asked one of the new maids to carry her tea and toast to the sewing room. She could hear the construction men pounding on walls below and felt certain he’d be there directing them.
If she had learned nothing else these past months, it was that circumstances changed in the blink of an eye, and she could only rely on herself. The marquess’s family could suddenly decide the Rochesters were a liability and all promises of allowances and schools might disappear in a puff of smoke. She would attempt to continue earning her own way, and sewing was the only way she knew to do it.
“This house, it may be too strong for you,” Nana said as she took another basic shirt body from her machine. “You should explore your gift, not run from it.”
Nana seldom spoke, but when she did, Celeste felt compelled to listen—even if she didn’t like what was being said.
“Lord Erran thinks it is wrong to force people to do what I want. And breaking glass . . .” Had she done that because she was stronger here or because she was simply more upset than she’d ever been in her life? “I don’t think destruction is a positive use of my gift.” She took the loosely pleated shirt body and smoothed the linen creases with her fingers.
“Explore and control,” Nana said enigmatically. “Or give it up.”
Give up her gift? How would she go on without it? She couldn’t, quite simply. A beautiful woman might not even notice she wielded vocal charm. But Celeste knew that without her voice, no one would pay attention to a lanky, unprepossessing spinster. And if society labeled her as a bastard . . . The horror of that appellation branded her as unworthy as surely as if they’d taken a hot iron to her flesh.
She would go from pampered daughter of a wealthy baron to an invisible nothing who must scramble for pennies. She would be a dreadful liability to her siblings and could not risk their futures by living with them. The earl had picked a frightful way of terrifying her this time. Even her voice couldn’t save her if the rumor spread.
It was nearly luncheon before Lord Erran sought her out. She’d been nervously awaiting this moment, afraid of what new scheme he meant to perpetrate. He was worse than the ocean winds blowing her about with no means of controlling where she was tossed.
He’d already stripped her of most of her defenses by inviting Trevor and Sylvia to go off on their own. Sylvia had happily returned to the shops with Lady Aster, and Trevor was out exploring. Since there was no longer any reason to hide, she would have been a horrible witch to object.
Without any greeting, Lord Erran set her father’s journals on the sewing table accompanied by a torn piece of brown paper. He pointed at the label on the paper. “Did your father regularly send his journals to this library?”
Trying to act as if his presence didn’t leave her breathless, Celeste shrugged. “Jamar is more likely to know than I am. Our parents were always jotting notes of recipes and garden knowledge and such and taught us to do the same. I asked about mama’s diaries once, and Papa said they were in a safe place. Jamaican weather is not good for books and papers, so I assumed he’d found a dry storage.”
“I’ll ask Jamar to which Malcolm library they might have gone. Lady Aster says she has not seen them, so I’m thinking it’s Wystan.” He started out of the sewing room.
“Wait! Why do you ask?” Attempting to assert a little of the authority he’d stolen from her, she set down her sewing.
He opened one of the books to a place he’d marked with a piece of paper. “Your father made notes of important dates and occasions. He’ll have noted the date he married your mother and the date of your birth and all the circumstances. If they’re in his handwriting, they’ll stand up in court better than any Jamaican witness.”
She could tell he was excited. For a man who usually expressed only cynicism, that meant he thought he’d discovered something of importance.
She glanced to Nana. “You can tell them when and how Papa was married, can’t you? And who was there?”
Nana nodded. “He was lonely for many years. When he learned of his English wife’s death, he married a neighbor lady. He was filled with joy that he could finally have the woman he loved. Jamar was there. And the old preacher who died in the hurricane. And a few others.”
“There is no doubt of your legitimacy,” Lord Erran said emphatically. “Jamar has already given me names of witnesses. But they are all either dead or in Jamaica. It will take months of correspondence to clear up this vicious rumor the earl apparently intends to spread. If Lansdowne is that desperate, Ashford will simply have to do without his influence. I will not have him besmirch your reputation, even for the sake of a damned prime minister.”
“Your brother depends on Lansdowne to change the fate of all England,” she said, trying to sort out his arguments. “Wouldn’t the good of everyone be more important than my birth?”
He waved away her concern. “I’ll find another vote. Lansdowne has proved himself unreliable and treacherous.”
Her lonely heart swelled with joy that he would place her above the needs of a marquess. She didn’t think this wise, but she waited to hear what else he planned.
“Your parents’ journals will convince society without need of lawsuits, especially if Ashford declares them sufficient. I am hoping they may contain more information that I can use as well. I’ll be off to Wystan directly.”
She did not even know where this Wystan was. Celeste glanced dubiously at the pages he showed her. Her father’s familiar penmanship warmed her heart, and she smoothed her hand over the page, trying to grasp why his lordship was so excited.
The rap of the door knocker carried up from the foyer. Instead of responding to his lordship’s declaration, she hurried toward the front parlor to look out on the street. Very seldom did visitors bring good news.
“It is our sister’s carriage,” she said when Lord Erran caught up with her. She turned to him in horror. “Will the earl have told her these lies?”
“There is only one way of finding out. I’m of the belief that the more information we possess, the better prepared we are. Do you wish me to leave or stay?”
Her desire for independence warred with her need for safety. It wasn’t just her future at stake, but that of her siblings. Reluctantly, Celeste conceded. “Join us after she’s brought up, if you please. I don’t have Sylvia or Trevor to act as my companions, and I’d rather not ruin my reputation more than necessary.”
He nodded and departed, leaving her to settle in the front parlor like a lady of leisure. She was wearing her gray silk with unfashionably simple sleeves, but she hoped her pearls lent an air of modest respectability. She needed all the protective armor she could summon.
Charlotte was huffing and puffing by the time the footman led her up the stairs. Today, she was festooned in pink frills from head to silk slippers. “A butler,” she exclaimed breathlessly as she entered. “You have acquired a butler and a footman. How extraordinary. Are they Ashford’s?”
“Good morning, Charlotte,” Celeste said sweetly, correcting her half-sister’s rudeness. “How are you today?”
“Terrible, quite terrible. The rumors are all over town.” She glanced up at the footman, waiting for him to depart.
Celeste signaled him to bring tea. He bowed and left the parlor door open, per her instructions. She didn’t trust Charlotte and didn’t wish her to feel too comfortable. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said without curiosity. “And how are your children? Are they well?”
“Well as can be, considering the scandal!” Charlotte said indignantly, flouncing onto the worn sofa. “My own papa, a bigamist! I cannot believe it of him. I will not. I cannot say what it will do to my dear Charles’s position.”
As Lord Erran had said, forewarned was forearmed. Celeste bit her tongue and let her sister ramble. Lansdowne had not been slow in spreading the gossip. Bigamy! That was an interesting new angle.
“And you sitting there with butlers and maids as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. That will not last once Ashford hears,” Charlotte said angrily. “We must remove you from this house at once. My Charles will help find you a position before the scandal grows. It’s the least we can do.”
“Don’t be silly,” Celeste said in her sweetest placating tone as a maid arrived with the tea tray. “Papa was the most proper gentleman on earth. Did you hear about our excitement yesterday? An arsonist almost set us on fire.” She poured the tea and spoke as if terrorists were a daily occurrence, waiting to see how Charlotte would react.
“The streets are dreadful these days,” Charlotte said with a wave of her chubby hand after the maid left. “I cannot live in town with any ease. We will be happy to see the baron and your sister to our home in Yorkshire, where they will be safe. It is best to sever the connection quickly, so their reputations do not suffer. You do not have the understanding of gentlemen as I, a married lady, do. Even our dear papa was capable of sin.”
Celeste wondered if the lady always talked in circles or if she was trying to convince herself that what she said was true. Celeste sipped her tea and studied her much older sibling with interest. Charlotte was nearly red-faced with her effort to sound credible.
“I have no notion what you are about,” Celeste lied. “Ashford has been all that is sincere. He is providing Trevor with an excellent school and tutor, and Lady Aster is looking for a good finishing school for Sylvia. We have invitations to dine with them next week, after our new wardrobes arrive. Do you have some quarrel with the marquess?” she asked politely, enjoying watching Charlotte writhe in discomfort. Apparently, the conversation was not going as her sister had hoped.
“No, that cannot be,” Charlotte said, with less confidence than earlier. “He has not heard of your birth, surely. You must be honest with him. And Lansdowne is most certainly the one to take the baron in hand. He’s head of the family, after all.”
The maid arrived in the doorway. “Lord Erran Ives, miss.”
His arrogant lordship strode in without invitation, just as Celeste had hoped he would. Today, he wore immaculate white pantaloons with an elegantly tailored gray frock coat and what suspiciously looked like one of the pleated shirts she’d sewn, topped by a black linen neckcloth.
The thrill of having him as her white knight would have to stop, but she so admired his willingness to dive into battle that she threw his grim visage a bright smile. “My lord, welcome. I was telling my sister how your family has so kindly taken us under their wing. She keeps prattling about scandal. Have you heard anything?”
Charlotte was practically gaping at the elegant aristocrat gracing the shabby parlor and bowing over her hand.
“A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Guilford. Will you be staying in town long? I will have my sister-in-law add your name to the guest list, if so,” he said smoothly.
Oh, that was good. Celeste watched her half-sister’s mouth fall open at the promise of an invitation to a house of nobility.
Charlotte glanced in confusion from the confident Lord Erran to Celeste, who merely smiled and sipped her tea. Whatever her sister had hoped to accomplish by coming here had been knocked awry.
Remembering how terrified they’d been before Lord Erran arrived in their lives, Celeste shuddered at how they would have reacted to such awful news back then. In their horror, they might actually have accepted Charlotte’s invitation to flee to the country. She didn’t think she would have believed the lies about their parents, but she had been so distraught that she might not have had the confidence to argue. She’d learned hard lessons these past months, and the experience had made her stronger.
“But surely . . .” Charlotte stumbled over the words. “The scandal . . . It’s all over town. You cannot mean to accept . . . I mean . . .” She glanced desperately at Celeste. “Have you not explained to his lordship?”
“That the unscrupulous earl lies and means to steal my dowry by calling me a bastard?” Celeste asked. Beneath her surface cheer, she laced her voice with fury and disdain, just to see if Charlotte could hear her other voice. “Lord Erran is not so foolish as to doubt our father’s integrity.” Which was one of the many reasons she had begun to accept his presence, despite their many differences.
The cup in her sister’s hand rattled, and she hastily set it down. “But . . . you said . . . If there’s no will . . . I do not understand.”
Celeste couldn’t determine if her guest was reacting to her voice or if she was genuinely upset. She let Lord Erran reply for her.
“Lansdowne is deeply in debt,” his lordship said sympathetically. “It is a tragedy that he seeks to cover up the fact with falsehoods and by preying on innocent persons such as yourself. You would do well to counter the scandalmongers by telling them that Ashford is in possession of all the necessary documents to protect his wards. I know you were quite young when you lost your mother, but if you will make inquiries, I’m sure you’ll find the correct date of her death. Take that to our solicitor, and he will be happy to show you that your father is as honorable as you believed.”
Celeste didn’t think he was using any influencing charms, but Charlotte seemed to be entranced just by his lordship’s presence. Admittedly, those broad shoulders in tailored coat and gleaming linen would overwhelm any woman. Should Lord Erran actually smile instead of frowning formidably, half the female population would be at his feet.
“Oh.” Charlotte threw up a be-ringed hand in confusion. “Oh, of course, my lord, I will do that. I did not think . . . The earl is such a commanding man. And he has generously offered to send dear Lord Rochester to school, so I thought . . .”
Lord Erran gave her an impatient look. “He hasn’t paid the school for his own son’s tuition. The real scandal is that the earl failed to present himself to Miss Rochester and her young siblings immediately upon their arrival and offer to introduce them to their families. Ashford has been ill and did not know of their presence until recently, or all this would have been handled much more discreetly, I assure you.”
“I had heard . . . Yes, of course.” Charlotte seemed to deflate. “I don’t suppose a will has been found? My dear papa . . .”
Celeste leaned over and patted her sister’s plump hand. “Left you a beautiful portrait of your mama and yourself and a small token of his affection. But the earl has tied our hands, and we cannot do anything until the courts give us permission.”
“Oh, that was kind of him.” She produced a handkerchief and wiped a tear. “The earl had promised . . . But I suppose that is lies. It is all very difficult to comprehend. But our home is open to all of you, as I’m sure you know.” She cast an imploring look at the gentleman standing behind Celeste. “If you will be so kind as to let the marquess know, we will be happy to help in all ways. I’m sure dear Charles will agree. He works hard, and his position is so . . .”
“Understood, my dear Mrs. Guilford,” Lord Erran replied smoothly. “If our families are to be connected, it is beneficial if we all work together to ease the path of our new relations. We look forward to seeing more of you.”
Talk about lies! Celeste would be happy if she never saw Charlotte again. The woman was self-serving and much too easily swayed by coin. And she couldn’t be trusted not to spread scandal.
If she was to survive in this jungle, she really must develop a backbone. And harsh experience had taught her just where to start.
The moment she was rid of her unwelcome guest, Celeste turned to Lord Erran and said, “I wish to go to Wystan with you.”