“She was kind today. I could almost imagine that she had been the mother I always wanted.”
“Mothers come in all kinds. You were fortunate to have a father who loved you with all his heart, if all you say is true.”
“He did love me,” Tiffany said. “And I loved him. He taught me everything about cooking and baking. And he taught me a lot about just plain life.”
“You hold onto that,” Old Elizabet said. “We aren’t done yet bringing Mrs. Bentley back to the land o’ the living. We might well have some stormy seas ahead.”
Tiffany looked down and the sleeping woman who had loomed large throughout the years following her foster father’s death. She felt completely unsure about whether she wanted Mrs. Bentley to “come back to the land of the living.”
She looks so defenseless lying there. Yet she made my life miserable. Still, had she behaved differently I would never have met Percival. How I wish . . .
Tiffany did not complete the thought. She was a ragamuffin from the streets and he was a lord. She would count her blessings that she could at least say that he had taken her in and personally taught her to read Latin and French. She might forget the languages, but not the lessons or the time spent with him. Those times almost made all the rest worthwhile.
No matter what happens else, I am glad to have met him. I am glad to have had time to spend with him, to learn from him, and to teach him what I know. I just wish I knew what I should do next.
Chapter 47
Percival lay on his bed. His head ached after the encounter with his uncle and the round of billiards. He could hear the murmur of his friends’ voices in the other room.
After a time, he slept; then woke to an ominous silence. He hauled himself up to his feet. “Smithers?” he called softly. His man did not answer.
Pulling on his dressing gown, he went to his sitting room. There, he beheld Quentin and Kenault resting their heads upon the card table with half-finished cups of tea at hand. His uncle stood in the doorway.
“What happened? Why are they asleep?” Percival blurted out.
“They will be fine. Perhaps a little headache when they waken. You and I need to talk, Nephew, before you do irreparable damage to yourself and the estate.”
“Irreparable damage? Uncle, the only damage I have received has come from outside agencies, not from within the house. As for the estate, it has never been in better shape.”
“But what about your reputation, Nephew? You are consorting with pirates, thieves, and the serving class. How can you expect to obtain a wife and establish a family?”
“Why, in the regular way, Uncle Ronald. I’ve simply not met the right lady yet.”
“Oh, is that what you are putting about? Nephew, you are so close to your cronies you asked them to sleep in the same room with you.”
Percival blinked. Then he realized what his uncle was implying. “For my safety, Uncle. In less perilous times, they would each have their own suite of rooms.”
“And you see just how safe they have kept you,” Ronald sneered, gesturing at the two young men with their heads on the table. “No, I will have this out with you. I have chosen a young woman for you, and if you will not wed her I will have it noised about . . .”
“Uncle! You would not! That would not only damage my reputation, but also that of both Quentin and Kenault. While neither of them hold titles, nor are they heirs to great fortunes, gossip would cause great harm to their prospects.”
“Then you understand me very well, Nephew. If you care for your friends at all, you will do as I say.”
Percival held onto the back of Quentin’s chair. “I scarcely know what to say. I am not in the market for a wife, although I shall certainly marry in the fullness of time. What has happened to you, Uncle Ronald? You are not at all like the uncle who used to visit when I was a boy.”
“I could say the same of you, Nephew. You are not the happy-go-lucky lad I remember.”
“That stands to reason. I lost both my father and my mother within a year. I am responsible for the estate, and for its people. I am no longer a child, Uncle Ronald.”
“Then stop acting like one! I’ve never seen such an incipient disaster in the making as this one.”
“There was no disaster until you arrived on the scene, Uncle! My people were happy, my household runs like a well-oiled clockwork.”
“Then how is it that you were hit on the head and stabbed?” His uncle shouted.
* * *
Just outside the door, McClellan flattened himself against the wall. “Go get Lucas, and tell Michaels that it is time to bring Miss Tiffany home,” he whispered to Smithers.
