Rogue in the Regency Ballroom: Rogue's Widow, Gentleman's Wife / A Scoundrel of Consequence. Helen Dickson
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was true. Many times over the next two days Amanda had to fight back an impulse to take her back to Agatha. Sky cried all the way back to Charleston. Her parting from Agatha and all that was familiar upset her, but, arriving at Magnolia Grove and with all the attention showered on her, and doting on the doll and other toys Amanda bought for her, she soon brightened up. It was when she went to bed that she suffered moments of homesickness and cried for Agatha and her papa. Finding herself drawn to the child in a way that surprised her, Amanda would hold her tenderly and soothe her with words of comfort until she fell to sleep.
The ship bound for England via New York sailed out of Charleston’s harbour with playful dolphins swimming alongside. At the same time a small fishing boat, with its sun-bleached sail bellied out and curls of white foam on each side of the bow, sailed in, with Judd Freeman at the tiller. It was after he’d put into Wilmington to take on fresh water that he had heard what Kit had been accused of and that he was to pay the ultimate penalty for his crime. Immediately he had set sail for Charleston, praying he would not be too late to save his friend.
Back in England, as the train sped northwards, carrying Amanda to her new home, she had time to dwell on her parting from Sky. It had been difficult to say goodbye, more difficult than she had imagined. During the two weeks’ voyage from America she had become extremely fond of the child and found pleasure in her company. When the ship had docked at Southampton, they had taken the train for London. Victoria Hardy lived in Chelsea with her husband and two children. Leaving Mr Quinn and Nan at the hotel—where they were to spend the night before taking the train north the following morning—Amanda went to see her with Sky.
Kit’s cousin was a tall, attractive, dark-haired woman who welcomed Amanda warmly. The minute she laid eyes on Sky she knew who she was. The moment was an emotional one for her; scooping the wide-eyed child up into her arms, she hugged her tightly. ‘So you are Kit’s little girl,’ she said when she had composed herself, setting Sky on her feet once more and tracing her cheek with her finger. ‘I have waited a long time to meet you. I have heard all about you in the letters your dear papa sent to me from America.’
Sky’s dark eyes did not flinch from the older woman’s touch. She was gazing up at her with interest, for, like Amanda, she, too, noted the similarities in Victoria’s features that likened her to her dear papa. Becoming distracted when a fair-haired little girl entered the room, no bigger than herself, she went to her to introduce her to her doll, the one Amanda had bought for her in Charleston and from which she refused to be parted.
‘She’s a delightful child—quite adorable,’ Victoria said. ‘So like Kit in her mannerisms, but her Indian ancestry is evident in her features.’
‘She’s been so good and brave, poor lamb. Everything has been so confusing for her of late.’ Taking Kit’s letter from her reticule, she handed it to Victoria. Amanda had no knowledge of what the letter contained, but she knew it would bring Victoria pain. ‘Kit asked me to give you this. He explains everything. Although—I must tell you that the news will be upsetting for you.’
Victoria looked hard at this lovely, rather solemn young woman she didn’t know, and then turned and moved away to read her cousin’s letter. Amanda went to the nurse who had accompanied the little girl into the room. Telling her that Mrs Hardy had just received some distressing news, she asked her to take the children to play in the nursery for a while.
After Victoria had read the letter, wiping the tears of grief from her eyes, she slowly folded it and turned to Amanda, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘How could this happen? Kit never hurt anyone in his life—and to accuse him of murder … I will never believe it.’ Her voice was raw with pain. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. ‘Does Sky know that her papa will not be coming back?’
‘No. When we left Charleston the—the execution had not been carried out, and I have heard nothing since. I—asked some friends of his—Agatha and her husband—to write to you, to let you know when …’
Victoria swallowed hard, trying to contain her grief. ‘Thank you. Do—do you think he did it?’
‘No, I don’t—and I’m not alone in that. Unfortunately, proving his innocence is another matter. There isn’t a whisper of proof to support his side of things. The one man able to bear him witness has disappeared.’
‘How can I tell Sky that she’ll never see her papa again, that he’s dead? I won’t say anything to her—until I know more. Poor Kit. He didn’t deserve this. If he is dead, then may he rest in peace, and, wherever he is, let him be assured that I shall do my best in raising his daughter, that she will be like one of my own.’
Amanda hadn’t stayed long after that. She had been deeply anxious about her meeting with Victoria Hardy and how Sky would react when the time came for them to part, but now she had met Kit’s cousin she realised that there had been no need. Sky had taken to her at once, and the fact that her new cousin had two children would help her settle in. In fact, when Amanda had left, the two little girls had been playing happily together in the nursery.
And now, on the train heading north, thinking of Kit—about how angry and unhappy he must have been, worrying about how his daughter would be taken care of—she asked herself if there was anything more she could have done, and finally decided that there was not. She had done everything he had asked of her and now she must put it behind her. It was over and she must look to the future. A year of widowhood would soon pass and then she could do exactly as she pleased. She looked out of the window, watching the landscape fly past, and wondered why her heart felt so heavy and why she should feel so despondent when she had finally got what she wanted.
It was because now she could see that what she had done had been no more than a spoiled desire to thwart and outwit her father. What a fool I’ve been, she thought bitterly. And now I’ve got to pay for it. She’d wanted a temporary husband; now that he was dead, she was filled with remorse over the manner of it, and to add to that she missed Sky more than she could have imagined.
She looked at Nan dozing across from her. She, too, was sad to be parted from Sky. The little girl’s constant chatter and laughter had lightened the voyage. As for Mr Quinn, who also had his eyes closed, he had hardly uttered a word since leaving London, and no amount of casual banter seemed to be able to break his grim mood, so Amanda had given up.
At last they reached their destination—Sheffield. Amanda saw that her father had sent his coach to meet them. She climbed in with Nan while Mr Quinn and the driver saw to the luggage. It was a brilliant summer’s day, when the hedgerows were full. Travelling the six miles to Eden Park, after leaving the industrial city behind, Amanda watched the countryside unfold in a rich patchwork of field and meadow and undulating moor land.
Her thoughts turned to her father, to how much she had missed him and how impatient she was to be reunited. Henry O’Connell was the son of an Irish navvy who had come from Ireland to work on the Liverpool and Manchester railway. When Henry had been old enough to join him, he had soon seen that navvying wasn’t for him and he’d struck out on his own, starting at the bottom. After that all directions led upwards. Driven to succeed, money became everything to him—it made everything possible and his driving energies and ambitions had made him one of the richest men in England.
Amanda was proud of all he had achieved. They had always been close, and the only stumbling block in their relationship was the issue of her marriage. He had planned great things for his only child. Wealth, power and social prestige would be hers. But, as he had soon discovered, it took more than money to gain entry to the exclusive inner world of Victorian respectability. He was not a boastful man and rarely offended anybody, but the fact remained that he was a parvenu. In his early days he had not been accepted in established society, but his burgeoning wealth gradually became so prodigious that it overwhelmed class.
After leaving the village of Thurlow behind and skirting the edge of a lake, the coach approached a long drive of limes. Eden Park loomed ever closer. Seeing the house, Amanda blinked her eyes, staring. On that first encounter she was touched by the opulent splendour.
Eden Park was an architectural gem on the edge of the Derbyshire moors. It stood in four hundred acres, thirty of which