“I wore this on my wedding day,” she breathed. “I know you can offer your bride so much more than this, but it would honor my love for your father and my love for you if she might wear it, too.”
Callum brushed at his torrent of tears with his sleeve. “Of course, Mother. I will insist upon it, but rest assured that any woman I marry would be grateful to wear something that means so much to us.”
He turned the headpiece over in his hands, marveling at its understated elegance and trying to reconcile his mother’s choice of ornament. How did it come about that the Duke of Tarnton might marry the daughter of another member of the peerage while she wore something so seemingly ordinary?
As though reading his thoughts, Jane answered his unspoken question. “It was a gift from the person who meant the most to me in the world, my dear governess who’d raised me when my own mother did not survive my birth. More than just my teacher, she had put aside some money for several years to buy it, knowing that someday I would be married and she would no longer have a position in the household. It meant more to me than any jewel in the world because it was given out of selfless love from someone I deeply admired.”
Callum smiled at the image of his mother on her wedding day, dressed finely and marrying well, but still paying homage to one who’d been so important to her. It was exactly the kind of gesture his mother was known for.
“I shall treasure this above all else, Mother, because it mattered to you,” Callum said softly, replacing it in its drawer.
“No, you must take it now. I don’t want anything to happen to it when I’m gone, and there may be those who don’t recognize its value. It could get lost, or discarded for being worth so little,” she explained.
“I will, Mother. I will keep it safe until the day it enhances my own bride’s beauty.” Callum lifted the back of his mother’s hand to his lips and kissed her. “Thank you for such a special gift, you who have already given me everything. It means the world to me.”
“You’re most welcome,” Jane whispered, wholly drained from their conversation. “Callum… son… I believe I’m ready for that medicine now…”
Chapter 3
“Father! What are you up to?” Beatrix cried out as she entered the room with more linens. Her father, only recently injured and still recovering, was leaning against a rough wooden chair and using it as a crutch, attempting to reach for his trousers on their peg.
“Be gone, girl!” her father joked. “You’re not supposed to see me like this!”
“What, in your night gown? I dare say, it looks mostly like every other person’s gown. ‘Tis no different!” she said, laughing and coming over to help her old father back to bed.
“No, I meant lookin’ like an invalid. I can’t be seen like this, shaking worse than a half-drowned kitten who’s been plucked outta the well.” He scowled, but then smiled adoringly when he caught sight of his daughter’s worried expression. “Ah, darling girl. You’re too good to yer old da. You shoulda put me out in the street long ago and left me for a beggar.”
“Father, I won’t hear this talk again,” she said, letting him use her shoulder for leverage as he fell back against the straw tick mattress. “You’ve outlived a good number of men by plenty of years, to be sure, but you’re not in your grave just yet! And your leg will never heal right if you don’t stay off of it!”
“And you know this how, Dr. Beatrix?” he teased, a look of blessed relief on his face from easing the strain on his wound.
“That’s right, you and the boys should refer to me by my proper title after all the stitching and mending I’ve done on you lot!” Beatrix laughed again, her bright green eyes as merry as her ringing laughter. “I’ve sewed more people than garments all these years!”
“And not a one of us has been given to the grave thanks to your tending,” her father acknowledged. “But my girl, they’re coming here this day to plan our next hunt.”
“Father, you cannot be serious,” she answered, a look of horror on her face. “You’re not well! You haven’t recovered from the last hunt, and that one involved a lead ball to your leg!”
“Aye, I’m just lucky the idiot was as bad a shot as he was a bad coach driver!” her father said, laughing. “I’m sure he was aimin’ for me head! But dear girl, there’s no gang of outlaws feared as much as we, and there’s no Prince Aaron’s gang without a Prince Aaron presiding over it. It will take nothin’ for one of the men to smell my old age and weakness and seek to take my place. Then where will we be?”
Beatrix pulled over the chair her father had leaned on then sat facing him. Her tone was severe but kind as she answered. “Would it truly be so horrible as to not be Prince Aaron any longer? To simply be Mr. Riswell, loving father of Beatrix Riswell, widowed man about the village?”
Aaron looked at his daughter, taking in her earnest expression. He brushed back a strand of unruly brown hair and smiled. “It wouldn’t be ‘bad’ at all. ‘Twould be me worst nightmare!”
“Why, Father? I know your heart and I know the minds of these men. They could carry on your legacy and we could simply take to the countryside, living our days in relative comfort without the threat of the gallows constantly hanging over our heads. You’ve got enough money, have you not? Years of punishing those who abuse and steal from the lowest among us has made you not a wealthy man, but certainly one of comfortable means. Is your reputation as a fearsome villain really so important that you’d continue risking your life?”
“You don’t understand, girl,” he said gently. “When your mother died, I promised myself you would never want for anything. I’m most proud that I managed to educate you, even while raising you with the scum we call a family. But if I stop now, where does that leave you?”
“First, these men are not scum. I never knew my mother, but I’ve had more devoted attention and adoration than any child borne of a nobleman! And, even as you say, the chance to learn when so many children of our station live their entire lives in the weakness brought on by ignorance! It is a gift more valuable than any coin or jewel you manage to take in the night.”
Beatrix looked out the window that overlooked their small village. She smiled as she saw people going about their business, but also felt a pang of regret when she realized that all of their daily chores were within the bounds of the law.
“More importantly, I have everything I could ever want. I have a roof over my head, knowledge in my brain, and a father who would move the river if I told him it was in my way. That is all I want in this world, Father!” she cried.
“My girl, you paint a lovely picture, and I’m grateful to you for it,” Aaron said. “But there’s more to this life we live than having wealth. My girl, before you came along, I was… I was not the man you know me to be. I was a selfish, bloodthirsty cad, the worst kind of criminal who ever—”
“Father! It’s not true, you mustn’t speak of yourself this way!” Beatrix interrupted, but Aaron held up a hand to stop her.
“You must let me finish, girl. Even if it pains you to hear it. I was a ruthless, cold-hearted thief, nothing more. I’ve done horrible things, all for a coin. I could be bought for a price and did vicious deeds as a result. But you changed me, you and your mother. Now, I still do the only thing I know, the only thing I’m good at. But it’s all in service of others, do you see?”
