Major Westhaven's Unwilling Ward. Emily Bascom
Читать онлайн книгу.
longer in his power to prevent it…However, the belief that she would be helped was important to this man, among the most loyal of his officers but—more importantly—among the best of his friends. And God knew he would do it if he was able.
‘Daniel?’ The face that turned towards him held all manner of pain, sightless eyes wide and panicked. ‘Are you there?’
‘I’m here,’ he said again. ‘I promised you, and I’ll not go back on that promise. I’ll see that your sister is provided for.’
A long sigh escaped Robbie’s pale lips. ‘God bless you.’
‘She is fortunate to have such a brother.’
‘And…’ A grimace of pain crossed the young man’s face. ‘I am fortunate to have a friend such as you…to…’ He bit down on a moan of agony. ‘Just…tell her…I died well…will you?’
‘I’ll tell her.’ He shoved the miniature into his jacket and found his captain’s hand once more. ‘You’ve served bravely and well. Better than most. She will hear of it, I promise.’
‘Thank you, my friend. Now, just—’
‘Robbie.’ As his own pain gnawed more intensely, Daniel was struggling to maintain his focus. ‘Rest.’
‘Just…one more thing.’
‘Name it.’
Green eyes turned to his face. ‘It has been an honour fighting with you—but more so, knowing you. Your father will be…beside himself with pride.’
Daniel’s throat closed. ‘God go with you, my friend.’
Robbie’s blood-caked lips parted in a radiant smile, even as his eyelids drifted shut. Then, where the space between them had been filled with his ragged breathing, there was nothing but silence.
The fingers in Daniel’s grip went slack.
He closed his eyes and tried to force down the grief that welled up from within. He told himself it did not matter, this lie to a dying man. His soul was condemned at any rate, he was sure. But he would have liked to fulfil his promise…if only for the sake of this friendship, forged in a futile war.
A horrible cold was creeping over him now, seeping into his bones as the blood flowed from his body. He would be grateful to sleep a little, also…But just for a moment the image of a beautiful woman, all honeyed tresses and smiling green eyes, floated before him. Her full lips smiled at him, as soothing as they were sensuous, and Daniel thought they formed his name, just for a moment.
‘Major!’
Very far above him, a voice penetrated the fog of exhaustion and pain. An Irish accent, urgent. His lieutenant was calling him.
Daniel knew as he slipped away from the pain, body slackening, that whatever it was, it was important no longer.
Chapter One
London, England—Spring 1782
‘You call that kneadin’, Miss Lily? We’ll never make a kitchen hand out of you at this rate!’
Looking up from her work with strands of honey-blonde hair in her eyes, a smear of flour across her face, and laughter on her lips, Liliana Pevensey grimaced good-naturedly across the kitchen at her companion. Straightening her elbows, she pounded her fists into the dough anew.
‘I found nothing to complain about in last week’s loaf,’ she retorted.
Josephine—ladies’ maid, cook, housekeeper and, lately, companion to the lady of the house—rolled her eyes.
‘Only because I rescued it at the last minute!’
Lily shook her head fondly at the younger girl. ‘What would I do without you?’
It was said in jest, but true enough. It had been four years since her brother had been sent to fight for his country against the rebels in America. Four years since she had been taken in by her aged Aunt Hetty, and come to live here, in the middlemost of a row of cottages in Highgate. Yet it was only in these last three months—since the old lady had died—that Lily, alone in the world with a slowly dwindling income, had begun to know the maid who had laid out her clothes every morning.
Jo was resourceful and hard-working in equal measure, as well as ever ready to cheer up her young mistress. Lily, realising she would soon be unable to pay the household its wages, had gradually let the other servants go, expecting her maid to seek work in a more prestigious household. Yet Jo had stayed, uncomplainingly taking on further tasks as her wages ever dwindled, though Lily knew a ladies’ maid of her talents could have found work anywhere.
She was also, Lily mused, her hands slowing on the dough as her carefree mood slipped away, about the only person in the world who knew her mistress’s true circumstances.
Money had been tight since her brother Robbie had been killed in the war in America. He had always provided for them, ever since the death of their parents when Lily had been fifteen. The money they had been left had been enough to keep them going for a while, and Robbie had sent back most of his salary once he had joined the army. Lily had been provided for, indeed, and proud of her brother, in his smart red uniform, going off to quell the rebels.
Who could have known it would go so badly wrong—that he would be killed so shortly before Cornwallis surrendered, before the war was over and the British soldiers—those that were left—at last came home? Lily had been left reeling from a grief so all-encompassing that she did not remember with any clarity the weeks following the news of his death.
‘Miss Lily?’ Jo was at her elbow. ‘I think that’ll do.’
Lily smiled. ‘I was dreaming.’
‘Worrying, more like.’ With a wry smile, Jo scooped up the dough and pressed it into a pan. ‘Something will turn up, you’ll see. It always does.’ She brightened slightly. ‘Just take your mysterious benefactor, fr’instance.’
‘Hmm.’ Lily crossed her arms, brow furrowing. ‘I would feel more comfortable if I knew who he was.’ The money had been coming regularly each month, since last summer. It was forwarded through her solicitor, and she could not for the life of her prevail upon the crusty old man to tell her who was behind it. ‘A friend of your brother’ was the only clue he professed himself ‘at liberty’ to give. In all honesty, the funds had been her lifeline these past few months, especially with the expenses for Aunt Hetty’s funeral. But she hated being beholden to someone she had never met.
‘Perhaps you could marry him,’ Jo mused teasingly. ‘He must be rich, surely.’
‘T’ would be hard, without first having met him,’ Lily countered with a faint smile. ‘Especially as—’
She broke off as the sound of the huge brass knocker against the front door echoed through the house.
Jo sighed dramatically. ‘I’ll just be a moment.’
She was back in no time, holding up a crisp white packet of paper. ‘It was only a messenger, miss. With this for you.’
‘A letter?’ Lily held out her hand for it. ‘How exciting—no one ever writes to me!’ Her face fell somewhat upon seeing the seal. ‘It’s from Mr Morley.’ Hastily, she wiped her hands on her apron and tore the packet open, revealing a single sheet of paper.
‘The solicitor?’ Jo made a face. ‘Perhaps he’s found some money hidden somewhere and he’s sending it so we can all live happily ever…Miss Lily?’
Lily, face white, looked up from her hurried perusal. ‘He says he regrets to inform me that Cousin Jack has returned from the Continent.’
‘Your Aunt Hetty’s boy?’ Jo snorted. ‘It never failed to confuddle me how such a sweet old lady could have such a gallivanting good-for-nothing for a son. God rest her soul,’ Jo added belatedly,