Chapter 21

CHAPTER

a

21

P olly exited the house to find Lord Dartmouth standing in the driveway. His carriage was harnessed, his outriders milling, and he was ready to depart.

Since the prior afternoon, when he'd announced he was her father, she'd been hiding in her bedchamber, but she didn't understand why. She hated to suppose she might be a coward.

He was her father! She'd dreamed about it, and now, it was true.

It was a stunning development and she had to stop acting like a frightened baby. Lady Thornhill had knocked on her door and told her he was leaving, and when she'd realized he'd vanish without her talking to him, she'd grown frantic and had rushed outside into the chilly dawn without pausing to grab a shawl.

She studied him, filling her eyes with the glorious sight. He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen, so tall and imposing, and with the rising sun illuminating him, he seemed to shimmer, as if he'd been sprinkled with fairy dust. He looked magical and splendid, and if the universe had finally been prepared to give her a father, how had she gotten so lucky that he would be the one?

"Good morning, Polly," he said as she hurried over to him. "I'm glad you came down. You're not angry with me, are you?"

"No, I'm not angry and I'm sorry I've been such a brat. I should have joined everyone for supper. I'm ashamed that I didn't."

"You weren't being a brat. You've had some distressing weeks that have been packed with drama and uncertainty. I dumped my news about our relationship on top of all the rest. I didn't handle it very well."

"I'm happy you're my father," she firmly stated. "I wanted you to know that."

"I'm delighted to hear it. I'm happy too."

"I've been praying for it." Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Ever since I met you at Fog Bay, I've been wishing."

"That makes me feel better." He gestured to the carriage. "Will you accompany me? I can't bear to traipse off without you."

"Where are you going?"

"To London, then to Dartmouth. We can chat on the way. You can tell me about your time at Mrs. Pemberton's school, and we can discuss the future too, to figure out what you'd like to have happen."

She pondered and was torn with indecision. He and Miss Charlotte were her two favorite people in the world, and it was difficult to choose between them, but ultimately, she said, "If I stay with Miss Charlotte, will you be upset?"

"No, definitely not, but I hope I'll gradually be able to change your mind, so you'll reside with me. I missed the first twelve years of your life and I don't intend to miss the next twelve."

She smiled. "I won't be here forever, but for now, it seems right."

"If you're concerned about my mother being at Dartmouth, you don't have to fret. You won't have to deal with her ever again. I promise."

"It's not that," Polly said, but that was an important piece of it. The Dowager scared her, but she didn't admit it. "I'd like to remain with Miss Charlotte. She needs me and I need her."

"I agree and can you keep a secret? You have to swear you will. Just for a bit."

She nodded vigorously. "I can keep a secret. I swear."

"I plan to marry Charlotte."

"Really? Are you serious?"

"Yes. I proposed to her yesterday, but she was too furious to accept. When she was still at Dartmouth, we quarreled and she hasn't forgiven me."

"She will forgive you though. I'm sure of it."

"In case you have a chance to put in a good word for me, I would appreciate it."

"I'm very clever, so I will come up with the exact comments to sway her." They grinned identical grins, then she said, "If you have to convince her, should you leave? Maybe you should tarry and wear her down with your charming personality."

His grin widened. "You think I have a charming personality?"

"Yes, and Miss Charlotte thinks so too. She's very fond of you."

"I know she is, but at the moment, she's too grouchy. I have to take care of some issues in town. It's adult problems that will prove she shouldn't be angry anymore. Then I'll be back."

"How long will you be?"

"Not long. I'm betting it will just be this week."

"I will watch for you every minute, and when you return, I'll have persuaded her to stop being mad."

"Thank you."

The horses shifted in their harnesses, and it was clear his men were impatient to depart, but she had to ask the question that had vexed her all night.

"What should I call you? What would be appropriate?"

"It's up to you. If you want it to be Father , that's fine. Or since we've only just learned of our connection, you might find that to be odd. So you can use Winston or Win. Or if you're more comfortable with Lord Dartmouth, we can stick with that. It's your choice."

She pondered again, then said, "I will eventually call you Father , but probably not right away."

"I'll miss you when I'm in London. May I write you a letter from there?"

She brimmed with excitement. "I would like that very much. And I love to write letters, so I will reply immediately."

"Get to work on Charlotte, will you?"

"I will and I will be so sly that she won't even realize what's occurring."

To her great astonishment, he held out his arms, and she fell into them, so he could hug her goodbye. As she stepped away, he chuckled and said, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"It wasn't hard at all."

An outrider whipped the carriage door open for him and he climbed in. His men jumped aboard, the driver whistled to the team, and the fancy vehicle lumbered away. Her father—her father!— waved to her as they rounded the curve out to the lane.

She waved too, until he vanished into the trees, and she kept waving until she was too tired to continue. Then she headed inside to eat breakfast, and afterward, she'd sit with Miss Charlotte, so she could begin implementing her scheme without delay.

v

Jasmine rushed down the stairs in a panic. Her maid had just hurried in to apprise her that Winston had arrived and trouble was brewing. He'd asked to see her father, Albert, rather than her, which was disturbing. He'd sent her away from Dartmouth, so they'd parted on bad terms, and apparently, he was still irked.

He was a pompous, imperious man, who didn't worry much about others, but he had an ethical streak a mile long. When he mounted his high-horse, he could be such a nuisance. Surely, he wouldn't pitch a fit about Jasmine's treatment of the girl. Would he? Besides, it was mostly Agatha's fault. Why should Jasmine be blamed?

He'd been escorted into the front parlor, and though he'd been offered refreshments, he'd declined them, which was even more disturbing. It meant this wasn't a cordial visit and he didn't intend to tarry. Albert was already present, and she hadn't been invited to join them, but she didn't suppose she required permission to speak with her own fiancé.

She strolled in casually, as if naught was amiss, and cheerily said, "Winston! You've surprised us. What brings you to town?"

He and her father were over by the hearth and they both stiffened as if she wasn't welcome. Winston made that point very clear.

"I'm conferring with Albert, Jasmine. You don't need to listen."

Albert, bless his heart, puffed himself up and said, "It concerns her, Winston, so she ought to be allowed to stay."

"I'm not here to address her," Winston told him. "This is between you and me."

"You're being awfully melodramatic," her father huffed.

She sidled over to them, and while normally, she'd have stood next to Winston to remind him of their bond, he bristled, so she stood by her father instead. It instantly appeared that they were allied against him, but it wasn't the message they should be conveying.

For the meeting, he'd outdone himself. He was wearing an expensive suit, an exquisite cravat, and his boots were new and had been polished to a shine. His fingers were dripping with gaudy rings, as if he was eager for them to recall his wealth and status. As if they could ever forget it!

Without preamble, he said to Albert, "I've recently discovered that I have a natural-born daughter. Her name is Polly."

Albert feigned confusion. "There might have been some gossip about it, but I couldn't swear to it."

"You can't weasel your way out of this mess." Winston's tone was scolding. "Jasmine has admitted that you conspired with my mother to get rid of Polly."

"She couldn't have admitted it," Albert firmly insisted, "for it never happened, and you're being ridiculous. Why would I have cared that you sired a bastard?"

"Why indeed?" Winston muttered. "Did you, or did you not, arrange a marriage for her to Mr. Ludlow's son? I know the answer to that question, so you don't have to respond."

Albert had been struggling to devise a viable lie, and at the caustic comment, he dropped any pretense. "It was for your benefit. And for Jasmine's. She should be able to begin her wedded life without assuming any burdens from your past indiscretions. We had lengthy discussions about her with Agatha and we decided matrimony was the best route."

"She's twelve," Winston fumed. "Were you aware of that fact?"

"Twelve is legal age," Albert blurted out like a dunce and Jasmine winced.

She tried to smooth over her father's gaffe. "I wish you'd calm down, Winston. The Ludlow family is successful and prominent. She'll have an excellent future with them."

"Your opinion on this topic is irrelevant, Jasmine." Winston didn't so much as glance in her direction. He kept his gaze locked on Albert and said, "Jasmine has also confessed that she paid the dowry."

Albert was flummoxed, and Jasmine wanted to butt in, to defend her actions, but it would only make him angrier. Ultimately, she said, "The girl is fine, Winston. Mr. Ludlow is very happy with her, so I'd appreciate it if you'd quit raging and hurling unfounded accusations. We don't deserve such a display of temper."

He finally whipped his irate glare to her. "My daughter is no longer residing with Mr. Ludlow, which shows how little you understand about the situation. I have removed her from their dastardly clutches, so the money you gave them was spent in vain."

"Where is she then? At Dartmouth? If you imagine I'll mother her, you are sadly mistaken."

He scoffed with disdain. "I wouldn't ask you to lace her slippers, let alone serve as her mother." He shifted his focus back to Albert. "I am crying off."

"What?" Jasmine shrieked as her father said, "We shouldn't be so hasty. This notion of yours is very reckless and I'm positive Agatha would be aghast to hear you're considering it."

"I'm not merely considering it," Winston claimed. "I am revoking my offer, and from this point on, my marital options aren't any of Agatha's business."

"I beg to differ," Albert said. "She is your sole surviving parent, and before you go off half-cocked, we should check with her."

"You can't delay the inevitable by chatting with my mother. You and Jasmine are responsible for this debacle, and as of today, the betrothal is severed."

"Absolutely not!" Jasmine seethed as Albert added, "You can't renege over a bastard. That's deranged behavior."

Winston ignored their protests and continued. "I realize you have frittered away a small fortune on the wedding preparations, and that my cancellation of the event will effect Jasmine's nuptial prospects. However, I deem the fault to be her own—and none of mine."

"Now see here, Winston—" Albert started, but Winston cut him off.

"To lessen the damage to Jasmine's reputation, I will bite my tongue and permit you to invent any story you like as to why the ceremony won't be held. I am content to bear the brunt of the gossip this will stir. But if you annoy me, if you bother me, if you sue me for breach of promise, I will inform the entire world of how she abused my daughter. No man would want such a vicious shrew as his wife, so I suggest you tread cautiously."

"You pompous ass!" Albert spat. "How dare you waltz into my home and threaten me!"

"You're lucky this is all I've dared," Winston said. "I ought to drag you out into the garden and beat you bloody."

"Father!" she pleaded. "He can't do this to me, can he? The wedding is in three weeks. What will people say?"

"Yes, Winston," Albert concurred, "think of the scandal this will cause."

Winston snickered nastily and retorted, "I don't mind if there's a scandal. Goodbye. Don't contact me ever again."

He sauntered out, acting as if nothing terrible had occurred, as if he hadn't just destroyed her life. If a woman was jilted, despite the explanation that was disseminated, she was always blamed. His mad decision might guarantee she never had a husband! She might wind up a spinster! She was supposed to be the most envied girl of the ton, the one who'd snagged Winston Wainwright. He couldn't toss her over for a ... a ... lowly bastard! It was outrageous conduct.

"Go after him, Father!" she said. "Tell him he can't proceed. You must make him listen!"

Her father wasn't a fighter and he simply shrugged with defeat. "How could I stop him? I don't believe he likes you very much and he's demanded we leave him alone. We should probably oblige him."

"You can't mean it! We have to schedule a meeting with Agatha! Then we'll confer with your lawyer. I don't care how Winston strutted and preened. We must find a way to yank him to his senses. We can't roll over and allow him to ruin me!"

"Don't you see, dear? He's already ruined you."

Albert went over to the liquor tray and poured himself a drink. She threw up her hands, then ran out to prevent Winston from departing. If her father wouldn't intercept him and put his foot down, then she would be delighted to bluster up and give him what-for.

But when she lurched into the driveway, his carriage was far down the street. She nearly raced after it, nearly shouted at him and called him obscene names, but what would be the point?

She staggered into the foyer, and several servants were lurking and furtively watching her. Evidently, word had spread that she'd been jilted and they'd be eager to gloat. How would she ever survive the humiliation?

She dashed by them and sprinted up to her bedchamber. As she slammed and locked the door, she thought she might never show her face outside of it ever again.

v

Agatha strolled into the manor, and when no footman greeted her, she was extremely irked. She'd gone to an afternoon garden party and had just returned. Where was the staff? Why weren't they present to assist her?

Normally, she wouldn't have attended the gathering, but she'd been bored and out-of-sorts. Winston had flitted off to London, while insisting she remain in her boudoir, so she'd been stewing and feeling sorry for herself. The invitation had arrived at precisely the right moment to elevate her mood.

In Winston's absence, the servants were to have confined her, but they would never have followed such a ludicrous command. They knew who was in charge in the house, who doled out their wages, and it wasn't Winston.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Her voice echoed off the high ceiling, and she froze, expecting someone to approach, but no one did. She tugged off her shawl and bonnet and, in a juvenile fit of pique, she dropped them on the floor. Then she stomped up to her bedroom. Apparently, there had been a total failure of due diligence, so she'd have to scold the housekeeper. How could standards have fallen so low?

Agatha reached her door and marched in and she quickly stumbled to a halt. Winston was over by the hearth, seated on her favorite chair and sipping a glass of her very best wine. He'd made himself at home, which was certainly his prerogative, but the boudoir was her domain and he recognized that it was. It was rude of him to barge in.

With how he was glaring, she was forced to recollect that she wasn't supposed to have been traipsing about. No doubt he was aggravated by her defiance, but if he presumed he could cow her or shame her into feeling guilty, he couldn't.

They shared a caustic glower, then he broke the silence.

"Where have you been, Agatha?"

"I went to tea with the neighbors."

"When I left for town, I could swear I ordered you to stay in your room until I came back to deal with you."

"Yes, well, it was a foolish edict, so I chose not to heed it."

"You didn't imagine I was serious?"

"I figured you were, but you're aware that I don't tolerate incivility."

He was staring at her in a strange manner that was unnerving, so she spun away and feigned nonchalance. As she did, she noticed what she hadn't observed when she'd first walked in.

There was a row of trunks and other luggage stacked in the corner, as if her possessions had been packed. Was he revoking her suite? Was she to be punished for her disobedience? Would she be moved to smaller, less ostentatious quarters? She'd like to see him try!

Girded for battle, she whipped around. "What is the meaning of this? It appears you've riffled through my things without requesting my permission."

"Let's review, Agatha," he calmly replied. "Whose house is this?"

"It's yours, but this suite is mine. It's been mine since the morning I married your father, and you have some gall to strut in and implement changes without asking me."

He rose to his feet and, in a kind of taunt, he lifted the wine decanter to his mouth and downed a hefty swig straight out of the bottle. Then, smirking, he set it down on the table next to his glass.

"Honestly, Winston," she fumed, "we're not peasants. Don't act like one."

"You're departing from Dartmouth. Immediately."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going anywhere. Besides, the day has completely waned and night will be falling soon. It would be mad to venture out so late."

She stormed over to him, and as a show of superiority, she'd intended to grab the decanter and glass and place them on the dresser where they belonged. Before she could pick them up though, he snatched them away and hurled them at the hearth, where they shattered and made a huge mess.

Her temper flared. "What is wrong with you? Each time we speak, you grow more insolent."

His assessment became even more acute. "You don't think I have any authority in my own home or any authority over you. You assume you can carry on however you please and I am to have no opinion about your antics or misdeeds."

"What antics? What misdeeds? You could be talking in riddles."

Out of the blue, he announced, "I have cried off from my betrothal."

She blanched with astonishment. "I wasn't consulted, so you had no right. If you have truly taken such an insane step, then I suggest you hop on a horse and gallop to London, so you can fix this. Jasmine will forgive you; I'm sure of it."

"She is a cruel, heartless shrew and I seek no pardon from one such as her."

He rang the bell-pull to summon a servant. Almost instantly, a footman peeked in and said, "Yes, my lord?"

"I'm ready for you to load the Dowager's trunks. Bring as many people as you can find, so we can be rid of her as quickly as possible."

The boy hurried off and Agatha raged, "I am not leaving! You're behaving like a lunatic."

He stomped over to her and he was a very large man. He loomed up in a threatening way that was a tad frightening. He was never physically violent, but still, it was alarming to discover that he was perched on such a ferocious ledge.

"I have rescued my daughter from Mr. Ludlow," he said.

"You have no daughter," she firmly stated.

"Be silent, Agatha!" he shouted and she cringed.

Her tone was scathing. "Don't you raise your voice to me. I demand you cease your theatrics at once."

"You're lucky my voice is all I'm raising. Polly will be living with me at Dartmouth, so you—as her primary tormenter and bully—will not be living here with us."

She was starting to feel unsettled. "Not live at Dartmouth? Are you deranged?"

"You are my mother, so I will not abandon you in a ditch, as you probably deserve."

"What are you planning then?"

"I am sending you to Fog Bay. It will be a sort of prison from which you will never be released. You may sit there forever and whine to the empty parlors about how unfairly your son has treated you."

She scoffed with contempt. "You imagine I'll reside at Fog Bay? The house is a damp, moldy, decrepit hovel."

"Yes, and in light of your treachery toward Polly, you should thank the heavens that I am willing to extend even that bit of charity."

"You're causing all this fuss over an unwanted bastard, and it simply proves that you are totally unhinged about her. Where have your wits gone?"

"If you assume my wits are gone, just wait until you hear this: Not only have I jilted Jasmine, but I am marrying someone else next week."

Her knees weakened and she staggered over to a chair and grabbed hold of it to balance herself. "Who are you marrying instead?"

"Who do you think? Charlotte Cronenworth."

If he'd taken out a knife and stabbed her, she couldn't have been any more surprised. "No, no, no! You will not wed that little fortune-hunter. That opportunist! That pathetic gold-digger! It will happen over my dead body."

"It's not up to you, and if the prospect kills you, so be it."

A horde of servants swarmed in. Without hesitating, they lifted boxes and trunks and hauled them out. She and Winston stood, watching them, bristling with malice, until the last item was carted off.

A maid hovered and Winston said to her, "The Dowager's traveling cloak is in on the bed. Would you fetch it?"

The girl scurried by them to retrieve it, then she loitered in the hall, eager for instructions from Winston.

Agatha snapped at her, "Don't eavesdrop on your betters. You're excused." But the girl didn't budge.

"She doesn't answer to you any longer," Winston said. "I will allow you to have five servants, but that's it. None of the staff are keen to work for you at Fog Bay, so we've decided that they will rotate in and out on a three-month basis."

"I don't agree to that. I don't agree to leave Dartmouth. I don't agree to be locked away at Fog Bay. Why are you being so horrid?"

"Clearly, you can't comprehend why I'm so angry and I'm too aggravated to continue explaining myself. Further discussion would be pointless."

"How can I be expected to grasp your reasoning when you're being so irrational?"

"You hid Polly from me because you were afraid I'd want to bond with her, that I'd want to raise her appropriately."

"You're absolutely correct and I was right to worry! You've learned about her and look how you're acting!"

"She is a wonderful child," he said, apropos of nothing. "She's a fighter and survivor who thrived despite your wicked machinations."

"I had her educated! I married her into a wealthy family! How can any of that be considered wicked?"

"It's repugnant to me that you'd try to defend yourself. You deserve to be penalized for how you abused her, and your punishment shall be that you never get to cherish her as your grandchild."

"How many times must I repeat it? She's not your child and she's certainly not my grandchild."

"After I'm wed to Charlotte ... "

She practically shrieked her reply. "I told you I forbid it! You will not shackle yourself to that impertinent hussy!"

He kept on as if she hadn't commented. "I'm hoping she and I will eventually have a dozen children, and you will also never have a chance to know any of them. It's the main fate I have engineered for you. You shall spend the rest of your miserable life alone and isolated from decent people. I can devise no more suitable conclusion for you than that."

He gestured for her to exit the room. She studied him, studied the maid in the hall. The scene was playing out like a convoluted plot in a bad melodrama. It occurred to her that she was in a great deal of trouble. She was wholly dependent on him, and even though she constantly reveled like a queen, she had no money of her own. She had to rely on him for every penny she frittered away.

Obviously, he was serious about kicking her out of the manor, and she was bewildered by his fury. Why stir such a ruckus over one bastard girl? What good was a bastard anyway?

"Winston, don't do this to me," she said. "You can't want to."

"I do want too. I want to very, very much, and if you suffer difficulties in the future, you brought them on yourself."

"How about this? I'll apologize to the girl. I'll tell her I'm sorry about Mr. Ludlow. Will that repair the situation? Will it calm you down?"

He snorted with derision. "You can't even say her name and you presume it would placate me to have you apologize?" He jerked the cloak away from the maid, then he marched over to Agatha and wrapped it around her. "Let's go, Mother. Your destiny has arrived and you can't avoid it."

She was completely incapable of moving or obeying. If an apology wouldn't suffice, what would? No contrition seemed likely to succeed.

As she debated and fumed, he clasped her arm and led her away. She was so stunned to be manhandled by him that she didn't protest. She simply followed along like a lamb to the slaughter.

In a trice, they were down the stairs and out in the driveway. A carriage was parked there, but it was a plain, nondescript vehicle that didn't have the ornate Earl's crest on the side. When she rode by, no one would realize there was a rich, important person in it. No one would bow down or doff their caps. It would have rusted springs and worn seats and she'd be uncomfortable the entire journey to the coast.

"Winston! Stop it!" she seethed, and she started to wrestle, but she couldn't halt their forward progress.

An outrider yanked the door open and her son lifted her in. Before she had a moment to straighten and speak to him through the window, the driver cracked his whip and they lurched away.

She grabbed for purchase, struggling to catch a final glimpse of the manor—or of her son—but they were barreling down the lane too fast, and she wasn't able to see either one.