Governess's Dilemma (9781460320600) Read online

  “Does it hurt much?” Sisi whispered, breaking into his thoughts.

  He managed a tense smile. “Does yours?”

  “My eye mostly, but not my tummy anymore.”

  “That’s good. Perhaps you just needed to eat.”

  She took another bite of the quickly disappearing slice. “I like mince pie. Mama used to make it for me when I was good.”

  “Well then, you deserve it. You were very brave tonight. I’m certain you made your mother proud.”

  “Mama’s in heaven with the angels, but I try to be brave.”

  At her wistful words, Dalton blinked in confusion. “But I thought—”

  “Uncle Dalton! You’re home!”

  At the eager shriek that pierced the quietude of the kitchen, Dalton winced. Miss Browning spun around from where she stoked the fire.

  “Mercy, Rebecca, you’ll wake the dead,” she admonished. “What are you doing up this time of night?”

  Dalton turned to greet his niece, who flew at him in her long, white nightgown and pounced on him where he sat. At least Miss Browning had bandaged his arm before he was tackled.

  “Rebecca!” she chided. “Where are your manners, child?”

  “That’s all right,” Dalton reassured the child, pulling her the rest of the way up onto his lap.

  She looped her arms around his neck, holding her wrist, and regarded him gravely. “I’m glad you’re finally home. Papa went to heaven ’cause of his horse. Did you know?”

  He winced. “I know, sugar.”

  “The horse had to be put down. It was my birthday, but Nana says he’s happy now ’cause he’s with Mama. I miss Papa awfully.” She cast her soulful eyes to the shadowed corner then tilted her head with curious interest. “Hello. Who are you?”

  “Sisi,” the girl fairly whispered.

  “What happened to your face?”

  “The train broke.”

  “Oh.” Rebecca regarded her. “Billy Newton was in a fight with a boy at school. His eye looked like yours. It was different colors every day.”

  Miss Browning approached and fisted her hands on her hips. “You do realize it’s gone past three in the morning, missy? What has you up? You should be in bed. The lot of us should.”

  “It’s too noisy. I was sleeping and heard someone scream. Can I have some pie?”

  “Tomorrow, you may have pie. For now, you may go to bed.”

  Dalton wondered if Myrna had issued the scream. Downstairs, in this wing of the house, it was impossible to hear anything going on above.

  Miss Browning smiled at Sisi. “If you’re finished, young miss, you should get some sleep, too. Rebecca, take her to your room. She can stay the night with you.”

  The glum expression at being denied the treat left his niece’s face. She crawled down from Dalton’s lap and approached Sisi. “You can sleep with me in my bed. I’ll let you hold one of my dollies if you like. I got a new one for my birthday. A pony, too, only he came the week before my birthday. I’m nine. How old are you?”

  “Seven.” Sisi slipped from her chair and set the cold compress on the table, her face now visible in the firelight.

  “Ooo, your eye looks like Loretta’s new party dress. It’s black and violet—it’s a pretty dress,” Rebecca quickly assured her. “It’s got silver stripes, too, only your eye doesn’t have any silver around it.”

  Dalton wearily followed the two little girls to the landing, intending to find rest in his own bed. He hoped his talkative niece would allow their guest her slumber.

  His mother met him at the foot of the stairs. After a kiss for her granddaughter and soft words to both girls to sleep well, she looked at Dalton.

  “How is your arm?”

  He flexed his hand. “Well enough. Miss Browning cleaned and bandaged it. Rebecca said she heard someone scream.”

  “Yes, that’s why I came looking for you.” His mother glanced over her shoulder at the children, who were already two-thirds up the staircase and out of earshot. “Genevieve is attempting to sew the cut, but the patient won’t hold still. She’s barely alert but keeps fighting us. I need to ask Miss Browning if she knows where that dab of laudanum is that Dr. Clark left. But we still need you to hold her. Unless you prefer that I find Charles.”

  “No, I’ll do it.”

  He could not explain what he failed to understand, but Dalton felt responsible for Myrna and the girl, even if Sisi was not her daughter.

  And Myrna had allowed him to go on believing the misconception.

  Dalton frowned.

  Why?

  Rolling up his undamaged sleeve, Dalton followed his mother upstairs.

  Time for explanations must come later. In the present, the welfare of their injured guests came first.

  Chapter 3

  Myrna had never been hit in the head with a hammer, but if she had, she thought the pain would be tantamount to what she now felt. Her temple throbbed, and she vaguely remembered being restrained by strong arms as someone she had never before seen worked a needle in and out of her skin. She had screamed in fearful anguish, but blissfully had been given a tincture that put her into instant slumber.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, not daring to move her head on the pillow and make the burning throb worse.

  At the bustle of skirts she flicked her eyes to the right to see. A maid gathered items onto a tray and turned. She started in surprise upon seeing Myrna staring at her.

  “Oh! I didn’t realize you were awake. I’ll fetch the mistress.”

  “Wait!” Myrna groaned when she spoke too loudly, causing painful reverberations inside her head.

  “I am sorry. ’Tis likely you’ll have a splitting headache for some time. I can bring you tea with mint to help.”

  Myrna fought back the pain. “Sisi, the girl who came with me. Is she all right?”

  The young maid’s cherry cheeks bunched up in a smile. “Right as rain, that one. She had a wee sniffle the first day, but the lot of us nursed her to health before she could get badly ill.”

  The girl bore a European accent, somewhere between Irish and British, and Myrna realized how much she missed hearing that lyrical manner of speaking—so similar to the lilt of her Irish-born parents. The maid’s words materialized in her mind.

  “The first day?”

  “You’ve been lying abed for two days, madam.”

  Myrna winced at the inappropriate salutation, her thumb brushing the inside of the ring. The girl must have seen it and assumed that she was married, or perhaps the master of the house told her. A hint of guilty remorse nagged at her conscience for withholding the truth, but she knew nothing about these people—and certainly nothing about him. She knew only that she was trapped inside his palatial home, for however long it took to recover.

  The maid opened the door to leave.

  “Oh—good afternoon, sir.” The girl’s voice became almost giddy. “I was just seeing to Mrs. McBride about fetching her some tea.”

  “Yes, you do that, Genevieve.”

  The rich, warm sound of his voice sent a cool shiver down Myrna’s spine. Despite the pain, she raised herself a little to see, pulling the thick coverlet up to her neck.

  He moved to the foot of her bed and gave a stiff, courteous nod. “Mrs. McBride. I trust you are receiving all that you need?”

  “Yes, thank you. I want to see Sisi.”

  “In due course.” He walked to the window and she followed him with her eyes. Pulling aside the heavy drape, he looked out the pane. “Your sister is taking luncheon with my niece at the moment.”

  She didn’t fail to notice his slight emphasis on their relationship. Perhaps it had been foolish to let him go on thinking Sisi was her daughter, but from what little she remembered, he arriv
ed at his own conclusions. She had simply never corrected them.

  She also never told him she had a husband, not that she could recall; the night of the collision and anything said then was vague. To ward off unwelcome interest from predatory men she wore the ring. Nearly twenty and unattached, she needed it for protection while she was on her own. She’d ignored the prickle of unease that told her she should not mislead this particular man, that he was not so easily fooled.

  A ravenous wild beast...isn’t that what he likened himself to in the carriage? To her way of thinking, a wolf described him well.

  In the bright glow of the room’s gas lamps, with the partial illumination of daylight from the parted curtains, Myrna got her first true look at the man who had insisted she and Sisi come to his home. His elegant black waistcoat covered wide, powerful shoulders and reached to the middle of his long, trim legs. He turned to look at her, snapping her from her introspection.

  “Have you nothing to say?”

  Even from the distance of several feet, his eyes seemed to glow, their color under his dark brows such a pale gray they appeared silver, like the intricate whorls of threads in his vest. Gleaming hair, a rich burnished color near black, had been swept from his forehead and grew long, resting just below his high collar. His features she would describe as proud, like his bearing—a long, straight nose, firm, stubborn chin, perfectly shaped lips, the bottom curve a tad fuller than the top; the corners now tilted in a wry, hard twist.

  She swallowed hard.

  Yes. Wolf was the perfect name for him.

  Dangerous.

  “I would like to see my sister,” she said on the edge of a whisper.

  His thick brows raised in polite mockery. “So you admit that she is your sister.”

  “I never stated otherwise.”

  “I called her your daughter numerous times, yet you said nothing.”

  “Please.” She put a hand to her head and the bandage there. “I cannot speak of this now.”

  The stony look left his eyes. A trace of sympathy softened his features.

  “My apologies. I should not have confronted you so soon, with you barely recovered from the ordeal. And I know your mind was muddled when first we met. I will leave you to your rest.” He moved toward the door then stopped and faced her again. “Is there anyone we should contact? Your husband, perhaps? Jonas is going into town with more supplies for the victims and can send a telegraph then.”

  She would need to contact her cousin soon. She had sent a wire before leaving St. Clair, to let him know to expect them, but gave no exact date of their arrival, unaware of it at the time. Yet she certainly couldn’t share that with Mr. Freed.

  “I would prefer to see to that myself, once I’ve recovered.”

  He looked at her oddly. “Very well.”

  Before he could quit the room she spoke. “Please—I...I cannot recall much of that night. Can you tell me what happened?”

  His manner became grim. “A mail train hit us on a curve, its headlamp out, but both trains were running blind due to the storm. It is likely that no one will ever know the details, but I suspect neither saw the other coming until it was too late. If then.”

  Myrna stared in horrified shock. “Was anyone killed?”

  “To date, three men were killed outright, three so badly injured they might yet die.”

  “Oh, dear.” Her heart wrenched in sympathy for the injured and those families affected. The fiery ache in her head seemed trivial in comparison.

  “We can consider ourselves most fortunate, Mrs. McBride. Death has a habit of choosing its victims without reason and often with callous disregard.”

  He spoke as if having just experienced the occurrence.

  “Were any of those men friends of yours?”

  “No. Those who died and lie near death worked on the trains. I never knew them. I should tell you that the baggage car was incinerated in the collision. Everything was consumed.”

  Myrna dropped her gaze to the coverlet.

  People dead. Badly wounded. Possessions lost...

  On the train was all she could carry. But it was no great loss. A ratty carpetbag with a change of clothes for her and Sisi and a few personal items easily replaced. The previous week, she had sold her mother’s wedding pearls, earrings and a brooch to a greedy pawnbroker, even if it felt like a betrayal to her mother’s memory. The heirlooms accrued just enough to pay off the landlord and the grocer, and to buy train tickets. Only her father’s pocket watch remained, safely tucked inside her coat pocket, just as her mother’s simple wedding band circled Myrna’s finger. Anxiously she brushed it with her thumb.

  “My mother sent a note with Jonas to ask a physician to come and examine you when one becomes available,” the wolf went on. “Genevieve did the best she could, but we would prefer a doctor’s opinion.”

  “Genevieve...” Her eyes grew round with shock. “The maid? She stitched my head?”

  Faces had been blurry, but at the recurring memory of strong arms around her, Myrna’s heart gave a little jump.

  “Yes.” A quirk of a smile tilted his lips. “Don’t be fooled by age. She’s young but wise in how to administer medical aid. She once thought to be a nurse.”

  “And you held me,” she whispered.

  His smile disappeared. “No need to look so disturbed. It was necessary to keep you still.”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply—” she shook her head on the pillow, not sure what she meant “—I only just came to the realization. Everything is still hazy. I wonder if I’ll ever recall all of it.”

  “It’s the laudanum. A few days’ rest will, with all hope, see you fully recovered.”

  “Thank you for all you’ve done.” Her words came soft.

  He looked at her in mild surprise. “Of course. I could do no less. I’ll leave you to your rest now.”

  Myrna watched him go, her emotions torn. She disliked her current situation and that Dalton Freed had been the one to aid her—numerous times. But he had helped and she would be petty not to acknowledge his kindness. However, it did not alter her opinion of his character. A lifetime of lessons harshly learned taught her not to trust in outward appearances. Her host may behave at present like a harmless lamb, but beneath the genial disguise she still suspected a wolf lurked.

  And she would never again become the devourer’s prey.

  * * *

  Dalton stared out the library window at the expanse of countryside frozen in white. His arm ached less now, the threads Genevieve had sewn in little more than a nuisance now.

  The prospect of the future loomed dismal, uncertain, and he had left his brother’s former study overwhelmed by others’ expectations. He feared his shoulders were not wide enough to bear such a burden.

  Father had devoted most of his time to Roger, to prepare his eldest to take over the family business and oversee the estate once he inherited that right. Roger had been thirty, nearly eight years older than Dalton when the unforeseeable happened. And now Dalton was head of the household and responsible for the welfare of all who resided within.

  He ran tense fingers through his hair and held it bunched at the nape before dropping his arm back to his side. Roger’s penmanship never had been neat, but the account books for the estate and his notes on various businesses were practically undecipherable. After Roger’s wife died bearing their stillborn second child, Dalton’s brother took a downward spiral, and he began to drink his after-dinner brandy all through the day to drown the pain. Before he had left Eagle’s Landing six months ago, Dalton tried to sit down and reason with his brother, but Roger would hear none of it. Now Rebecca was an orphan and the entire family might suffer due to Roger’s incompetence.

  The sound of faint giggling in the corridor brought him out of his dour musings. He turned and mustered
a smile for his niece and her new little friend who entered the room. Four days in their home, and the child had shown a remarkable improvement, the blackness having faded around her eye to a dull green and yellow. She stared in wonder at the tall scrolled bookcases of mahogany that filled the library.

  He nodded to the children. “Rebecca. Sisi. What brings you girls here?”

  “Sisi said she’s never seen a liberry with hundreds and hundreds of books.”

  “Ah.” He lifted his brows with a smile at his niece’s typical enthusiasm. “Do you read, Sisi?” He asked the question, doubtful of a positive response. To his surprise, the girl nodded.

  “My sister teaches me.”

  “Does she?”

  “Only Myrna doesn’t have so many books. Only three. And I have trouble with lots of the words.”

  At mention of the woman lying upstairs in the blue room, Dalton felt a tickle of interest to know more. “Is your sister a teacher?”

  Sisi shook her head no.

  “A scholar, then?”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Does she go to school?”

  “Unh-unh. We were going to my cousin’s home.”

  “Oh.” Dalton regarded her kindly. “Is that where you two were headed on the train?”

  The child nodded, and a glimmer of somber remembrance shone in her eyes. “I don’t want to go there anymore.”

  The fear in Sisi’s near whisper tugged at his heart. He had no business interfering, but after all the child had suffered, he wished only to relieve her immediate terror.

  “Perhaps you might not have to go by train,” he reassured.