An Inconvenient Wife (9 page)

“I don’t know. It has to do
with the men he brought home once. Something about wine, I think. I saw and
heard them for a just a minute, and they frightened me.”

To his dismay, her eyes
filled with tears. Blackwell looked at Miss McKenzie in unconscious appeal, but
she was a step ahead, pressing a handkerchief into the girl’s hand and putting
an arm around her shoulders.

Miss McKenzie looked at him,
brows raised in question. “Perhaps you might tell Danielle of her message now,
if you have all the information you need.”

Need, maybe; more than he
wanted, certainly. Certainly she—they, could not be left in Meraux’s hands,
although what he was to do with them was another story. Now he had no choice
but to lay another sorrow on this girl’s head, for it seemed clear she had no
idea she was adopted.

“Is it something bad, Mr.
Blackwell?”

Blackwell winced at the
plaintive little question and hesitated no longer.
Tell her straight out,
Westcott. Beating around the bush will not cushion the blow.
“I know this
will come as a shock, but this begins with the fact that the Durants were not
your natural parents. You were adopted by them as an infant.”

Danielle stared at him in
disbelief and Miss McKenzie stirred and took her hand.

“That cannot be true! Why do
you say such a thing?” She turned away from him. “It is a lie, isn’t it,
mam’selle
?”

“I do not believe Mr.
Blackwell would lie about such a thing, Danielle.”

“Miss Durant—Danielle.
Listen to me.” He reached over to pull her hands from Miss McKenzie’s and
grasped them firmly. “Don’t think for a minute you were not loved.
Monsieur
and
Madame
wanted you very much. You would never have been told this if
they had lived. You are their daughter in every way.”

“Except my birth,” she
whispered. But some of the distress eased from her eyes and her voice steadied.
“May I know who my real parents were?”

Blackwell paused, reluctant
to tell her she was the offspring of an amoral nobleman who had seduced and
abandoned an innocent girl.

“It is best in the open,”
Miss McKenzie murmured, sympathy on her face, as if she suspected what he was
going to say.

“Your mother was very young
when she met your father. He was handsome and wealthy and she believed him when
he promised marriage. Instead, he left her
enceinte
and in disgrace with
her family. When his sister, your aunt, learned of it, she took your mother to
a convent to have her child, planning to send you both to another part of
France into a new life. But your mother died soon after you were born and your
aunt, hearing of a couple who longed for a child, placed you with them. She
knew them and could be sure you would be well loved and cared for.”

“I see. I am a bastard,
then.”

“No, you are not!” Blackwell
released her, stood, and looked sternly at her. “You are the daughter of
Madame
and
Monsieur
Durant. They gave you their name along with their love.” He
walked to the window with heavy steps. This was as hard a thing as any in his
life. Gad, he wanted to be home, riding out over the Hampshire hills, playing
games with Sarah. Instead he was tearing a child’s life apart.

“Mr. Blackwell is quite
right. You are Miss Durant and there is no reason you should be otherwise.”
Miss McKenzie made her brisk, matter-of-fact statement, rose, and pulled the
girl to her feet. “Since it appears this conversation will go on for some time,
I suggest we take a turn in the courtyard and have something to drink before we
continue.”

Concern for the passing time
warred in his head with a fervent desire to escape the confines of this room,
but the pull of fresh air won and he followed them outside. Not much was left
to explain and any decisions necessary could be made tomorrow. Perhaps a good
night’s sleep might provide him with a solution to the problem of what to do
with these children!

~* * *~

Anne stepped through the
doorway and took a deep breath. Never could she have imagined the revelations
of the past hour. That poor child, whose every conception about her life was
undermined, and this on top of her earlier disclosure. She eyed the girl beside
her, wondering at her ability to appear as if nothing earthshaking had
happened.

The Englishman’s unsmiling
demeanor had also returned, although she had not missed the compassion on his
face earlier. He was not as unaffected as he appeared, and she was uncertain of
his reaction when told of Meraux’s plans for Danielle. She watched him pace the
length of the courtyard, around the fountain and back again, as if demons rode
his shoulder. Perhaps they did. She knew little of his life and he was clearly
unhappy to be involved in theirs.
As you are involved. You could no more
abandon these children than…than fly to the moon.
Making an instant
decision, she sent Danielle off to ask Maggie for some refreshments,
intercepted the gentleman wearing a rut in her courtyard, and stopped squarely
in his path.

“Mr. Blackwell. I am sorry
to interrupt, but I have something to tell you before Danielle returns.” He stared
at her, looking none too pleased, but nodded curtly and stepped around her.

“Walk with me.”

Anne glowered at his back.
She never much cared for being ordered about, and if it was not so important,
she would stand right here until he came around again. Instead, she hurried to
catch up to him. At least his pace slowed to accommodate hers.

“I do not know what else you
have to tell Danielle, but you should know she came to me in great distress
today. In the past, she confided very little, which I mentioned to you
yesterday, but this overwhelmed her and it is not surprising she told me of
it.” Was he listening? Anne peered sideways at him. He was. His eyes were
intent on her face and she looked away hastily.

“Go on.”

Anne sighed. More
orders—perhaps he had served in the military. This was not the time to protest,
however. “Meraux intends to wed Danielle next month on her birthday, has
threatened to separate her from Guy if she refuses, and has withdrawn
permission for them to visit me.” There, it was out, and brought him to a halt.

“The devil you say! The
blackguard is supposedly her stepfather!”

Anne moved a few steps back.
His response was all she depended upon, but the look of fury on his face was a
bit intimidating. “He is, yes, but is he also her legal guardian? I’ve
hesitated to ask. Perhaps you can.”

Blackwell scowled at her,
seeming suddenly to realize why she had put a distance between them. “I don’t
bite,” he growled, and gave her the half twist of his mouth that passed as a
smile with him. “Or shoot the messenger.”

Anne smiled at the allusion,
but was unable to resist a gentle retort. “Nor do I, sir, which is well for you
today, I believe.” And amazingly his lips curled in an actual smile, one that
for some reason stole her breath away. Feeling a flush rise in her face, she
whirled around. “There is Danielle now with some refreshment for us.”

Aware of his eyes on her
back, she slowed her pace to a stroll. She was
not
running away. Anne
took a sip of the juice Danielle handed her and kept her eyes on the girl. She
had no idea why a simple smile should so fluster her.

Blackwell took the offered
beverage with murmured thanks, drank the whole of it in several long swallows,
and set the glass aside. “We haven’t much time and still have some ground to
cover. Will you be comfortable out here?” He waited until they had settled on
the bench before continuing his tale.

“Your aunt was greatly
concerned as to your safety when she heard of your mother’s death and your
relocation to Portugal. She asked some friends in England to investigate, and I
agreed to act as emissary. If the situation requires, which in my opinion it
does, you were to be told of your parentage and that a trust fund awaits you.
This gives you some independence, Miss Durant.”

“But
Monsieur
Meraux….”

“You are not to worry about
Meraux. Miss McKenzie has told me of his threats. I assure you that you cannot
legally be forced into marriage, at any age!”

Anne slumped against the
wall in relief and grasped one of Danielle’s hands. She had suspected as much,
but having this forceful gentleman willing to stand behind the child was the
most important thing.

Danielle’s reaction was less
happy and a bleak note in her voice reminded Anne that, of course, Guy was a
major concern.

“What of my brother? I will
not leave him, Mr. Blackwell.”

The Englishman stooped down
in front of them. “You will not be leaving him, Miss Durant. I give you my
word. Meraux’s threats are just that, threats.”

No one could refute the
sincerity in the man’s voice. Anne saw the look of belief grow on Danielle’s
face and breathed a silent thanks to this stranger who had walked into her
life. He would take the children into his care. Anne was relieved, and pleased
at their good fortune, no matter her own sorrow at the thought of losing them.

You have your own problems
to work out and best get to them. Now you are free to flee to England—if you
can find the funds to do so.
Mr. Blackwell could no doubt
accommodate her, but just the idea of asking him made her shudder. Anne
wrenched her mind from the gloomy thoughts and turned her attention to her
companions. Blackwell had risen and resumed his pacing, albeit keeping in front
of them, and was again issuing orders, which seemed to be a habit with him.

“I have not worked out a
plan as yet, but I want you to do your best to act as usual when you go home
today. I will come with the Fentons for you tomorrow, and you will not be
returning, so if there are any items either of you want to bring, have them
packed and ready. Don’t bother with more than a change of clothing, as we can
purchase anything you need.”

“Are we to stay here?”

Danielle looked from the
Englishman to Anne in wonder, a feeling Anne shared. She would be happy to have
them with her, but this tiny house hardly had room for another two people. She
blinked in surprise and waited, her eyes on her guest, who she felt certain had
something in mind. He had been at no loss in making provisions to date. Nor did
he fail her now, and she dropped her head to hide a smile.

“I think it best that you
stay with a friend of mine.
Senhora
Gomez will be pleased to have you
and this is the first place Meraux will look, if he does so, although I doubt
it.”

Blackwell did not say why he
believed the Frenchman would not look for the children, but judging from the anger
she sensed seething under his calm façade, he intended to ensure that the man
stayed away. How, Anne did not care to ask—or want to know, for that matter.
Craven she may be, but she was very glad to have it taken from her hands.

Interpreting Danielle’s look
of apprehension, Anne smiled at her and stood. “Mr. Blackwell’s friend will
take good care of you, and I will come to visit.” She held out her hands. “My
dear, this has been an exhausting day for all of us. Take up your flute while I
find Guy. Your maid will be here soon, and we want to keep to the normal
routine for now.” Danielle rose and returned Anne’s hug, but a whispered “thank
you” and a tremulous smile was all she could manage before she fled. A few
minutes later the halting note of the same melody practiced previously floated
out and Anne smiled.

“It is hard to think of
anything else when you are concentrating on music,” she explained. “Do you
play, Mr. Blackwell?”

“No, ours is not a musical
family.”

His short reply discouraged
further conversation. Anne left him to his pacing to look for Guy and Mr.
Fenton. The dog would go with them, she supposed, and she was surprised to
realize she would miss the little creature, even if Bonnie’s sharp bark
sometimes grated.

Guy was flushed and grubby
from his play, and Anne took the time to help him wash and gave him a glass of
juice before collecting his sister. Danielle, she was relieved to see, had
regained her normal composure and followed stolidly behind them.

The Fentons were in
conversation with Mr. Blackwell when they stepped outside and Anne’s eyes
narrowed. Bill was not above relating some of their problems to a fellow
countryman, but Anne assured herself Maggie would keep him in line.

“Miss McKenzie.” Blackwell
turned toward her as they approached. “I will escort the Durants as Mr. Fenton
tells me he has an errand in the other direction.” He glanced down at the
children. “Are you ready? Your maid is waiting, and I want you home on time
today.” He nodded at Anne. “I will see you tomorrow when I call for them.”

Anne blinked at the abrupt
farewell, if one could call it that. Annoyed and suddenly dispirited, she
locked the gate behind them and trudged back to the house. Perhaps she would do
well to follow her advice to Danielle and immerse herself in her music. If only
to keep from worrying about what Bill might learn at the Consulate, and
thinking about the comely man who had so disrupted her world.