A Heart for the Taking (33 page)

Fancy fought back her anger at his high-handed manner, but she realized unhappily that she had gained as much as she was going to—at least for now.

“Very well,” she said stiffly. “A month.”

“And you will sleep in my bed during this blasted month of abstinence.”

It was not a question. While Fancy would have liked to eliminate that particular provision, she knew from the expression on his face that it would not be wise to carry the discussion any further.

“And I will sleep in your bed.”

He gave her a curt nod, his face grim and set. “Then we agree. You have your damn month and—”

A timid knock on the door interrupted him. Muttering a curse under his breath, he strode in that direction. After fumbling for the key, he unlocked the door and, flinging it wide, snarled, “What?”

Annie Clemmons, pressed into light service because of the influx of so many guests for the wedding, stood warily in the hallway, a large silver tray with morning refreshments held in her hands. At Chance’s gruff words, her expression of wariness increased and she said uncertainly, “I believe that you rang, sir?”

Chance let his features relax. Stepping back, he said in
more normal tones, “Oh, I am sorry. I had forgotten. Please, come in. You can put the tray on that table over there.”

Precisely what it was that made Annie glance down at Chance’s bare feet, she never knew, but glance down she did.

Her gaze widened in mute terror at the sight of those six toes on Chance’s right foot, and with a muffled shriek she dropped the tray.

Staring at him as if he were the Devil incarnate, she muttered, “Dear merciful God! It is as I feared—you
are
alive!”

A
s Chance stared at her in amazement, Annie, a fist to her mouth, eyes wide and fearful, suddenly spun on her heel and disappeared down the hall. His gaze dropped to the mess on the floor in front of him, and shaking his head, he stepped back inside his room and shut the door.

Glancing over at Fancy, he muttered, “Not only does my wife object to me, but it seems that I now have the remarkable ability to terrify elderly women simply by speaking to them.” His mouth twisted. “Although in Annie’s case, she has
always
looked at me as if she expected me to sprout a second head.”

“Do not be silly,” Fancy said, still ruffled by the outcome of their discussion—if it could be called that. “You fairly shouted at her when you first opened the door. No wonder you startled her.”

Chance frowned. “She was not startled,” he said slowly. “She was terrified . . . but not until she looked . . .” He glanced downward. Now what the devil had disturbed her so? He opened the door and stood there studying the floor. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the scattered items from the tray, met his eye. His frown deepened. Something
had certainly frightened her. But what? His wandering gaze suddenly fell on his feet.

The odd fact of having been born with six toes on his right foot had never bothered Chance, and since it was extremely rare for anyone to see him barefoot, he never gave his extra digit any thought. Could it have been that sixth toe that bothered her? There were, he knew, many deeply superstitious people who were terrified of any physical oddity, certain it was a sign of the devil. He grimaced, nodding to himself. In Annie’s case, seeing that extra toe had no doubt set the seal on her belief that he really was a devil’s spawn.

Satisfied that he had solved the mystery of Annie’s strange behavior, he shut the door once more and walked over to the velvet rope. Giving it another pull, he said to Fancy, “Hopefully this time we shall have more luck getting our morning’s refreshment.”

“Unless you terrify the next servant.”

Chance grinned at her. “It is not a habit of mine, but to ensure that it does not happen again, I think that I shall conceal the probable cause of Annie’s fear.”

Fancy looked puzzled, even more so when Chance found a pair of leather slippers near the bed and started to put them on. “Your feet?” she demanded, incredulous. “Annie was frightened by your feet?”

“Considering what a splendid figure of manhood I am, I know that you find such a thought shocking. But yes, I very much suspect that it was my feet, specifically my sixth toe, that overset her.”

“A sixth toe?” Fancy asked, lively curiosity banishing some of her bad mood. “You have six toes?”

With an expression of long suffering, Chance sat on the bed and, after taking off one slipper, lifted his right leg and wiggled the six toes for her.

“Oh my,” Fancy exclaimed with a gurgle of laughter. “You really do have six toes. I never noticed.”

“Perhaps,” Chance purred, “that is because you have generally been interested in another part of my anatomy?”

*     *     *

While Fancy and Chance were sparring in his bedchamber, Annie had reached her destination: Constance’s suite of rooms. Constance had woken some time ago and was sitting up in her bed, enjoying a second cup of coffee, when Annie burst into the room.

Her eyes dilated, her face a pasty white, Annie exclaimed, “It is as I always feared:
he is alive.
”

Still feeling rather disgruntled over Fancy’s marriage to Chance, Constance was not in a pleasant mood. Sending her longtime companion an impatient look, she snapped, “Oh,

Annie, do make sense. Who is alive?”

Annie gulped. “Chance Walker.”

“Well, of course he is,” Constance replied irritably. “We watched him get married yesterday.”

“No, I mean—” Annie stopped, suddenly seeing the ground open up before her. She had never told the truth about the night Letty’s twins had been born. Never said a word to a living soul. After leaving the squalling baby on the bluff overlooking the river that night, she had run back to the house. To Constance’s anxious demand to know if she had taken care of disposing of the infant, Annie had only nodded, too scared and distressed to do anything else, certainly unwilling to admit that she had been frightened off by someone approaching or that she had merely left the baby on the ground and fled back to the house.

All through that stormy night and the next day, Annie had been positive that her crime would be discovered, and she had lived in guilty terror. Certain that whoever had been coming through the woods that night would have discovered the baby and would present it at any moment to the big house, she started and blanched at every sound.

When her worst fears were not realized, she was relieved, if still filled with guilt and curiosity about the baby’s fate. Sam’s unexpectedly early return and the sudden trip by the entire family to England had been a blessing for Annie. With an ocean between her and the abandoned infant, the time in
England had made her feel safe and had dulled her feelings of culpability over her part in the ugly events of that night.

When she saw Chance for the first time, he was nearly five years old, and the suspicion that he might be the infant she had abandoned on the bluff did not cross her mind. It was only much later, as he grew, in Annie’s fearful imaginings, to look more like Sam every day, that the horrifying idea that he might indeed be Letty’s child began to take hold on her mind. The fact that Morely Walker was considered to be his father did not calm her growing anxiety. If anything, that knowledge increased her fears, as Morely had been living at Walker Ridge the night of her crime.

For some time now, she had been worried that Chance was indeed the abandoned infant, but it wasn’t until this morning, until she had seen those six toes, that she knew all her fears were true. The infant lived. Not only lived, but right under their very noses.

Constance, of course, had never given the infant another thought. But then, she hadn’t known the truth.

Apprehensively Annie stared at Constance, who, still waiting with increasing impatience for an explanation, asked curtly, “Well, you mean what?”

Annie’s hands twisted together helplessly. She was terrified of speaking and equally terrified of keeping quiet. Her secret had been safe for over thirty years. Why reveal it now? But if she didn’t and by some wicked fate Chance’s real identity were discovered, Constance would be caught totally off guard. All her life Annie had been blindly loyal to her less than lovable mistress, and all she could think of was that Constance must be warned of the danger.

As quickly and concisely as she could, Annie unburdened herself, ending only after she told of seeing this morning those six toes on Chance’s right foot. All through her recital Constance had sat frozen, her face growing whiter by the moment, her eyes darkening with pure rage.

When Annie’s voice finally faded away, there was silence for ten seconds. Then, furiously tossing her entire tray and its contents on the floor, Constance sprang out of bed. Wrath
evident in her every movement, she approached Annie and, stopping in front of her, viciously slapped the older woman.

“You stupid, stupid fool! I give you one simple task to do and you bungle it. Having failed me, you then have the audacity to lie to me about it! And to think that all these years I had confidence in you.” Her face contorted by rage, Constance demanded, “What else have you failed to do? I knew I should have dismissed you and left you in England. I
knew
it!” She took several angry steps around the room. “Now what are we to do?”

Her face smarting from Constance’s slap, Annie said timidly, “No one knows but us.”

Constance flashed her a look. “You are a fool. ’Tis obvious that Morely Walker found the baby. He
knows
who Chance Walker is.” Her face twisted. “And wouldn’t he take great pleasure in seeing me brought down.”

“But why didn’t he tell Master Sam as soon as he found the baby? The master came home not two days later.”

Constance stopped her wild pacing and looked thoughtful. “Yes, but we left for Richmond almost immediately,” she said slowly. “Don’t you remember?” She paused, then thinking aloud, she murmured, “And while Sam was hustling us all to Richmond, to catch a ship sailing for England, Morely must have been traveling to his cousin Andrew’s home with the baby.” She smiled maliciously. “Sam and Morely must have just missed each other. What a piece of good fortune for us that they did.”

Thankful that the worst of Constance’s rage seemed to be over, Annie ventured uneasily, “But why did not Morely write to Sam? Telling him of finding the baby?”

Constance waved an impatient hand. “Knowing Morely, probably because he was not positive and because he has an inbred mistrust of putting anything in writing. He no doubt
suspected
what had happened, but he had no proof. Besides, he owes Sam everything. He would not have wanted to jeopardize his own standing by pouring out his incredible suspicions.” Constance tapped a finger against her lips. “Yes, knowing Morely and how he vacillates, I am certain
that is what happened. He wanted to tell Sam personally, but Sam was far away in England, and while you and I came back with Jonathan the following summer, Sam and Letty stayed in England for several more years.” An expression of contempt crossed her face. “After burying her only son, Letty was far too distraught to face Walker Ridge. And Sam, the besotted fool, was willing to indulge her, even if it meant banishing himself to England indefinitely.”

Annie nodded. “I can understand Morely not wanting to put such a shocking thing on paper, but why hold his tongue all these years? Why did he not say something as soon as Master Sam did return?”

Constance shrugged. “Four years is a long time to wait to reveal the sort of secret he thought he knew. Perhaps, by the time Sam returned, he was not quite so certain.” She suddenly looked more cheerful. “Actually, what does Morely really know? He found an abandoned baby on a river bluff at Walker Ridge, who coincidentally just happened to have been born the same night as Letty’s child. Of course, the fact that the baby has six toes on his right foot makes it a bit ticklish for us. There is no denying that the circumstances would be considered suspicious, I will grant you that, but it does not
prove
anything. Besides, who is going to believe that
I
would stoop to such a vile act? No one would credit me with doing such a thing. And Morely knows it.
That
is why he has kept his tongue between his teeth. He suspects, but he does not know for certain.”

“So we should not worry?” Annie asked nervously, her expression anxious.

“Of course we should worry, you stupid slut. While Chance’s birth date and toes do not prove anything, there is too much coincidence. It would certainly cause talk and speculation if Morely ever did nerve himself to speak.”

“But what are we going to do?”

Constance’s jaw hardened. “We are going to do what you should have done years ago: get rid of Chance Walker.”

“Oh, Constance, no. Can we not just let it be? We have been safe this long . . . and you just said nothing can be
proved. Mayhap Morely intends to keep his suspicions to himself.”

“You
are
a fool,” Constance said disparagingly. “I do not intend to run the risk of the truth ever coming out, or even just the fact that Morely found a newborn baby in the vicinity of Walker Ridge the same night Letty gave birth to a stillborn son. Morely has never fully explained where he got the child—now we know why. But even though most of the family believes that Chance is his own by-blow, if Morely were to start talking . . .” Constance’s face grew grim. “Well, it just does not bear thinking about. Getting rid of Chance is the only solution.” She looked pensive. “And possibly Morely, too.”