Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Over the next week, the dressmaker came and went. Leona and Ciara both were extra careful to make sure that her back stayed covered in the presence of others. When the woman finally left, Leona had more clothes than ever before. Walking dresses, sitting dresses, working—well, painting—dresses, formals, semi-formals and a myriad of others.

She also got a whole new wardrobe of underclothes. There she got some that would be backless, but Leona did not model for them. She had the lady take her measurements from another item of clothing.

This was the day that they were being delivered. Ciara had joined her in the unpacking and repacking to go to London. The women were ‘oohhing’ and ‘ahhing’ over each piece, as were the maids who were doing the actual work.

“Don’t you think this is a little too revealing?’”

“Nonsense, Leona. This is the current fashion.”

The dress was stunning. The color was golden-bronze, but it had silver threads running through it to capture the light and shimmer. The fit was tight so those around her could see her figure. The bodice dipped low to reveal her abundant cleavage. The color was so close to her own skin tone it appeared that she was wearing nothing at all.

It was sleeveless and appeared backless but there was a thin covering of gossamer that covered her back and kept her shame hidden. Leona looked stunning in it. But she had just watched as they’d laid it out in the trunk for traveling.

“You will knock him dead with this one.”

“Knock who dead, Ciara?”

She had smiled and shrugged. “Oh, whoever. All of them. Let’s get downstairs and go riding before we have to leave.”

Both women, now dressed in buckskins, headed down the stairs and out to the stables. Moments later they rode out, each woman riding astride and bareback off to destinations unknown.

* * * *

He knocked on the door for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. This time was different, since after the dour-faced butler opened the door, he stood back to admit him inside the home.

“He will meet with you in the study, sir.” With that, Trace was led down the corridor. They stopped at a door and there was a moment of silence before one pristine white glove knocked once, sharply, on the door.

“Enter.” From within came the response, spoken in a deep voice.

The butler opened the door and stood back to allow the man to enter before him. “Colonel Morgan to see you, my lord.”

“Thank you, Weeks. That will be all.”

“Very well, my lord.” The man named Weeks quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him.

At the desk sat a large man. His stern visage glanced across the large mahogany desk as intense blue eyes assessed.

“What can I do for you, Colonel Morgan?” The voice was low, as if he really didn’t wish to speak with him at all.

“I was looking for a friend of mine and heard that she had been commissioned by you. Her name is Leona O’Neill.”

“Many people say they know her just to meet her and try to marry her for money. How do I know you aren’t any different?”

“I have known Leona since we were both children. My son and I are in town and I wanted to stop in and visit for a bit.”

“She is not in London at the moment. She will be coming in for the ball that we are giving. You can come then and visit with her if you wish. I will have Weeks extend an invitation to you.”

Trace bit back his annoyance. This man wasn’t telling him everything. “Perhaps you could just tell me where she is, and I will go see her.”

Challenge flared in the eyes of the man behind the desk. “Right now she is at my country estate. You can visit with her once she is here.”

At his house… Could this be the man she wanted to be with? No, he just wouldn’t accept it. Tamping down his anger, although his own eyes grew as sharp as shards of glass, he responded with a flat voice. “Very well. I accept the invitation to the ball.”

“Good. Then I…we will see you there.” The butler appeared as if summoned with an invitation all ready for him.

Trace took the envelope and followed the butler out to the front door. Inside he seethed as he thought of that man touching his woman. His woman.

As Trace headed back to the hotel, he watched as couples passed along the walk in the park. Even though it was cold there were plenty of people out. All of a sudden, he saw his son there. With a quick pound on the roof, he got them to stop so he jumped out.

“Falcon. What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in the hotel.” He was stuck between fear and anger because of what could have happened to his son.

“No, Papa,” he corrected, “you said I couldn’t go out alone. There were some boys who were coming with their mothers and said that I could come along. They are right over there if you want to meet them.” His boy had a sharp mind, for those were the precise words that he had used.

“All right. Let’s go meet them.”

“Did you find her, Papa?”

“Not yet, she isn’t in town. I will have a chance to see her at a ball later on.” No, right now she is being kept at some rich man’s country estate. He was so angry, but he kept it under control.

Ever since he’d understood that his rage could cause Leona pain, he had been keeping better control of himself. He knew that she had tried to close down their link because of his inability to be in command of his own emotions. When she’d allowed him to feel her pain he had immediately tapped down his anger. Anything to keep her from feeling pain. Anything to keep her safe.

Over the next couple of days Falcon spent time outside with the other boys who were at the hotel. They spent their time looking at the members of the peerage as they trotted through the Row.

For himself, Trace spent his time finding something to wear to the St. Martin ball. He went to fittings and tried on numerous suits until he finally found the one that was just perfect. Even so wasn’t sure if he should go in uniform or not. It was tailored just for his body, accentuating his broad shoulders and his waist that bore not a trace of fat, and lean muscular legs. It made him look to be the man he was meant to be. Leona’s man.

Trace was no longer the sick man who Leona had found near death on the field. Since he had left her, he had once again filled out. He was the solid man that he had been before the war began. A fit man for the military, for he had really only semi-retired.

* * * *

One afternoon, as he and his son were sitting by a lake watching the ducks and tossing them bread every now and then, he noticed a younger boy and girl playing alone on the edge of the water. Suddenly the girl slipped and fell into the water, face first.

As she scrambled to sit, her face bunched up and she let out a lusty wail as her brother tried to calm her down. But to no avail. Her cries grew louder and louder. Trace rose and hurried down to the edge.

“Here now. You’ll be all right.” He knelt down by the child and wiped her face off with a clean dry linen. “Let’s just get you cleaned up a bit.”

As Trace tended to the little girl who was watching him with eyes the color of amber whiskey, her brother—at least, he supposed it was her brother—began to speak to his son.

“Who are you?” Falcon asked.

“My name is Bryn. Who are you?” There was an accent to his words that Trace couldn’t quite place.

“I’m called Falcon.”

“Falcon. What kind of name is that?” No accusation, just curiosity.

“It’s one that my father—that’s him with the girl there—told me I could have. Not my real name, but I don’t like my real name. Is that your sister?”

“I see. Bryn is just a nickname for me as well. Yes, that’s my sister. Her name is Keely.”

Trace heard that and spoke to the little girl. “Well, Keely, where are your parents?”

“At home. I’m out with the maid. She doesn’t keep a very good eye on me, though. Mama will get mad at her for that.”

“Why will she do that?”

“’Cause. They are supposed to watch me better.” There was a sigh from the girl before she climbed up into Trace’s lap and snuggled herself under his chin. “You remind me of my papa. But his hair is black, and he has blue eyes.”

“Do you come here a lot?” Bryn asked Falcon.

“Every day. What about you?”

“Only sometimes. I try, but it’s not always possible. I prefer to come with my parents, but my father is usually busy.”

A rumpled and flustered maid came running up to the children. “Oh my God, there you are. Why did you run off like that?” She leveled a finger at Keely and narrowed her eyes.

Before she could say another word, Bryn insinuated himself between them, as if Trace weren’t even there. “Don’t you dare threaten my sister. It is your fault, for all you wished to do was meet some man here in the bushes.”

Trace was shocked. The boy spoke like he was a very powerful man. Just like someone who Trace himself had seen recently. In fact, the boy’s eyes looked familiar as well.

“Don’t get smart with me. All I did was turn my back for a second.”

“No, we had walked away a long time before that. My father will hear of this.”

“We are going home.” The woman reached for Keely, who screamed and shrank into Trace even more.

“No! I want him to take me home. I don’t like you.” There was more than just childlike fear—it was closer to a full-blown panic.

“You don’t even know who he is. Now come with me. Keely, this instant.” She snapped her fingers as if to drive home her point.

Trace rose effortlessly, keeping Keely pressed to his chest where she was safe and warm with his coat over her. Then he smoothly placed his body between Bryn, who trembled with anger, and the flushed maid.

“She knows who I am. It is no problem for me to escort these children home. For some reason they don’t trust you and from what I have seen they have good reason. You, miss, will lead the way. I will walk with Bryn and carry the little lady so she doesn’t get any colder.” In a tone that booked no room for argument, he stared the woman down and added, “Now would be good for us.”

Defeated, she spun around and stomped off, leaving the others to follow. Trace adjusted Keely and looked down to the boys, who were waiting for him to follow her first. “Falcon, make sure you stay close to me. I don’t know where we are going.”

“Okay, Papa.”

“Thank you. For standing up for me and my sister.”

Trace smiled. “Not a problem. Besides with such a beautiful little lady how could I not help?”

“See, Bryn, he thinks I’m beautiful.” She stuck her tongue out at her brother.

Falcon looked up at the girl and saw a mark on the upper part of her arm as she went to put it back under his father’s jacket. “Papa.”

That one word’s tone stopped Trace in his tracks. He swung his gaze to his boy and asked a wordless question. “Look at her arm, Papa.”

Trace moved so he could see her arm, There were fresh bruises on it. Anger began to grow. Not saying anything, he looked down at the boy with a question in his eyes.

“Today was the first day she ever did that. It wasn’t to me, only Keely.”

“You’ll be all right, little darling.”

“I know. You will keep me safe until I get home to Papa.”

So that was how they walked home. Keely was carried and the boys took up positions to either side of Trace as they walked behind the soon-to-be fired maid.

Trace was in shock when they walked up the steps to the home that he had visited in the previous weeks. The same butler opened the door, and when he noticed the children with Trace his face immediately showed concern before he got it controlled.

Before he could say a word though, the marquess came down the steps. “Who is at the door, Weeks? I am expecting—” He broke off as he met Trace’s brown eyes. “You. I thought I told you…” Then he noticed his children.

Immediately he held out his arms and both children ran into them. “What happened to you? Where is Lucy?”

“Your daughter got a little wet by the lake,” Trace said. He’d seen the woman vanish but wasn’t sure where she’d slipped off to.

“What happened, Bryn?”

“Nothing, Father. This man offered to carry Keely home because she was tired and wet.”

“Colonel?”

“Perhaps we should speak in private.”

“Very well. Weeks, take them and give them something to eat.” He looked down at the boy beside Trace and included him in the offer. “You may go as well, if it is all right with your father.”

“Papa, can I go with Bryn?”

“Of course.”

“This way, let’s go.” Bryn waved him on.

But Falcon waited. Patiently, he held out his hand and stood there until Keely took it. Then and only then did he follow Bryn. Trace and Lucien both watched with a mix of fear and amazement.