An Inconvenient Wife (2 page)

She patted his cheek. “I
don’t want to escape you, silly Papa. I’m sure I shall miss you terribly. But
this will be my own little adventure, just like Robinson Crusoe.”

“Not quite like that
intrepid gentleman, who had some difficult times if I remember correctly.”
Westcott stood and smoothed the bedcover around her. “In a fortnight or so. It
hasn’t been settled as yet.” He looked up at the entrance of a pleasant-faced
woman of middle age. “Now here is Nurse to scold me for keeping you from your
nap.”

“As if I ever would, my
lord,” Nurse chided, but humour gleamed in her eyes.

“I’m sure you should,” he
said lightly, and then looked at his daughter. “I will be back to take supper
with you, muffin.” Not expecting an answer, as this was routine for them, he
stepped out, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, shaken by the
realization his darling child was so eager for new surroundings.

You wanted to keep her safe,
protected from reminders that she was crippled, but might you have created a
prison?
Perhaps St. Clair was right, damn him. If so, you owe
the earl yet another thing for opening your eyes.
Disturbed, Westcott
shoved away from the door and traversed the passageway in swift, angry strides,
reminded of the long hours Devlin had spent with him at Sarah’s bedside. A time
when they were not sure she would survive, and then when the crisis passed,
coaxing her back to health and some semblance of the high-spirited, active
child she had been before the accident that had taken her mother’s life.

It is Sarah’s happiness that
is important, not what you prefer, and what of this other child, a girl not all
that much older than Sarah, who may be unhappy or even in peril? Can you live
with that on your conscience, knowing you might have helped her?

Guilt riding his shoulder
like some sharp-clawed nemesis, Westcott ran down the stairs and slammed out of
the house. Blast it, he would go to Portugal, if for no other reason than to
give Sarah her little adventure. But he’d be damned if he’d enjoy a minute of
it.

Chapter Two

Portugal

Anne McKenzie eyed the row
of fat, smug cabbages with disdain and quickened her step. No need for that
ubiquitous vegetable today, not when she had money in her pocket. Not much,
perhaps, but enough for some carrots, leeks, and a nice piece of beef Maggie
could use to make one of her excellent stews. With no cabbage! She was so tired
of eating cabbage. They all were, and she vowed it would never be on her menu
again once she reached England.

The busy marketplace was
familiar to her after several months of almost daily visits. Sometimes Maggie
or Bill did the marketing, if she was fortunate enough to have a music student,
but Anne enjoyed the hubbub and greeted the stallholders she knew with a
cheerful “
Olá
”.
Her limited knowledge of Portuguese enabled her to shop and most of the vendors
were patient with her halting conversation.

The residents of Oporto were
a friendly people who accepted her with a polite curiosity that did not allow
for questions to be asked about the Englishwoman in their midst. She in turn,
did her best to fit in, adopting the fashions of the housewives struggling to raise
their large families. Not that she had any choice, since virtually all her
clothing was still in Gibraltar. Besides, who would suspect Miss Anne McKenzie
of wandering around a market with a native woman’s headscarf covering her hair?

Oddly enough, Anne had grown
to like it. She pushed the fabric a bit higher atop her head and looked around
for Maggie. Her sturdy companion was not so enamored of wearing the heavy black
skirts and scarf, but if anyone understood the importance of blending in, it
was Maggie.

Spying her at the herb
sellers, Anne slipped through the crowd to join her. The fresh herbs heaped on
the table in generous bunches were a feast for the eyes, as well as the nose,
and Anne sniffed the aromatic air with pleasure. “Have you decided what you
want? We can afford several, since they are so cheap. Perhaps some fennel?”

“Fennel will be welcome,
Miss Anne. A bit of thyme and rosemary, too.” Maggie nodded in approval. “Did
you get some onion?”

Anne smiled. “Not yet. We
pass that stall on the way out and I did not want everything smelling of onion
before we get home.”

“Can’t see it matters much,
when it’s all going in the same pot,” Maggie said with a shrug, turning back to
make her selection, “but it suits me fine.” She pointed to the herbs she wanted,
her language skills being even less than Anne’s, and watched the elderly woman
behind the table wrap each bunch in paper and place them in her basket.

A chorus of “
obrigido
,
obrigido
,” ensued and they began to wend their way through the busy
swarm of shoppers. They had reached the bins of onions when Anne’s attention
was caught by the sharp yips of a frightened dog. Dogs were not uncommon in the
area, but they were usually sly thieves too smart to draw attention to their
predations. Certainly not the type of non-descript mongrel that careened around
the corner, dashed between Anne and Maggie, and scurried under one of the bins.
Startled, Anne stepped back, directly into the path of the young boy in
pursuit.

“Oomph!” Anne’s basket flew
into the air, and down she went, the child tumbling atop her.

“I am so sorry!”

Anne felt the boy’s weight
lift from her chest and looked up to see a girl leaning over her with such a
horrified expression on her face that Anne wondered if more than her pride was
injured. But she was soon helped to her feet by the shocked onion seller, and
with Maggie’s assistance put her clothing to rights, all the while aware of the
girl hovering at the front of the crowd that had gathered.

“Are you hurt? It is my
fault the dog escaped. My brother is not to blame. We are sorry,
mam’selle,
”
the girl apologized in a rush of words.

“I am not hurt.” Anne held
her hands against her eyes for a moment and then looked around for her basket.
It would be just her bad luck to have someone run off with her precious beef,
but Maggie was already scooping up the spilled foodstuffs. Anne breathed a sigh
of relief and summoned a faint smile, which had the welcome effect of stopping
the profuse litany of apologies.

Seeming more settled now she
saw Anne was uninjured, the girl gestured at the lad, who appeared rooted to
the ground with such a look of terror on his boyish face that Anne took a step
toward him.

“Get Bonnie. Quickly now,
before
he
comes.”

The child paled even further
at the girl’s hissed order, which Anne would have doubted was even possible,
and ran over to coax the dog from its lair.

“It is quite all right,”
Anne said in as gentle a voice as she could manage at the moment, considering
her headscarf was askew, her skirts coated with dust, and the scrape on her
hand beginning to smart. “It was an accident.”

She glanced at Maggie and at
her unspoken agreement, put a hand on the girl’s arm and guided her to the side
of the stall where they were somewhat out of the way. The boy, who appeared to
be about seven or eight, had the dog now, clutched in his thin arms. He
straightened and went to stand beside the girl, who put her arm around his
shoulders protectively.

“There is no harm done.”
Anne lifted her hands in an attempt to reassure the children, who looked
frightened well beyond this little happenstance, forgetting that her palm was
scraped and raw.

“You are hurt!”

Reminded by the girl’s
shocked gasp, Anne looked at her hand. “It is just a scrape, and will soon
mend.” She smiled at the pair standing so stiffly before her. “I am Anne
McKenzie and this is Mrs. Fenton.” She indicated Maggie with a tip of her head.
“Might I know your names? Are you lost?”
Why else would two French children,
which you have to assume they are, since this entire conversation is in French,
be wandering around a market, not in the best part of town, without a governess
or manservant?

“Danielle Durant, and my
brother Guy,” the older child disclosed with obvious reluctance. “And we are
not lost. Our stepfather is here—somewhere.” Her words were barely audible and
Anne stepped closer.

“I see. Perhaps we can be of
some assistance, Miss Durant, and escort you home.”

“Oh, no.” Both heads shook
fiercely and they exchanged a worried look before edging away.

“Rascals! Miscreants! I
warned you about that cur.”

The shout of a florid-faced
man coming toward them bellowed over the heads of the throng and Anne
unconsciously moved closer to the children, who had stopped in their tracks at
the first sound of the man’s voice. Taking an instant dislike to the stranger
shoving aside the shoppers with his cane, Anne stiffened and lifted her chin.
But he looked right past her and jabbed his cane toward Danielle.

“I told you to keep that
animal under control. Now, get rid of it and get your brother home before you
cause any more trouble.”

“No.”

The faint whimper that
escaped the boy’s lips spiraled right into Anne’s heart. She was conscious of
Danielle’s rigid stance beside her and that the look of anger growing on
Maggie’s face mirrored her own fury at the outrageous behavior of this
over-blown tyrant.

“You are quite mistaken.
There is no trouble here.” Anne’s quiet words were tinged with enough frost to
bring the tirade to an end and for the first time the stranger’s sharp black
eyes moved from the children to her.

“This is nothing to do with
you, Mistress. If these brats have bothered you, I’ll see they apologize and
we’ll be on our way.” He scowled and raised a hand in a gesture of dismissal.

“On the contrary, they have
much to do with me, sir,” Anne said sharply, putting on her haughtiest
expression. “I have suffered loss and harm through their carelessness and
demand restitution.” She heard a quick, indrawn breath and surreptitiously
reached behind her to find the girl’s hand and press it in warning. They would
have to trust her for a few minutes.

“Restitution! For what? You
appear perfectly well to me,” he snarled.

Anne narrowed her eyes in a
frown. “My person was injured and my foodstuffs damaged.” She held out her
hand, pleased to see blood still oozing from the scrape.

“Yes, yes. Very well.” He
banged his cane on the ground. “What do you want? I am not a rich man, so if it
is money don’t expect me to be generous.”

“Generosity is not expected
from you.” The subtle slur appeared to penetrate even this oaf’s air of
self-importance and the flush on his face deepened.
Good, he can be managed,
like most bullies if you stand up to them
. Anne pushed back her shoulders
and stared down her nose at him. “I will take the dog, since it appears you
have no further use for it. I have need of a watchdog, and I expect these
children to come to me every day for the next week. They will care for the
animal until she becomes accustomed to her new home,” she said in her most
imperious voice.

“Watchdog! Not much use in
that mongrel, but if you’re fool enough to want it....” His voice trailed off
and he looked at her suspiciously. “Those two are another story. Can’t see
where you’ll get much out of them and I’m not sure I want them traipsing off
who knows where.”

Anne tried to keep her
expression one of indifference, though her heart thumped in her chest and
perspiration trickled down her back. “I assure you the
Villa de campo des
Flores
, where I currently reside, is a respectable household, but if you
prefer to call the authorities.…” She left the comment unfinished, not having
the slightest idea of who the authorities might be, but had the strong notion
this horrid man had no desire to make public his affairs. As well, she
suspected the mention of the Condessa’s residence would be the determining
factor.

“
Villa de campo des
Flores
! Very well,” he conceded with ill grace, but there was a speculative
look in his eyes now. “If you will give me your direction, Mistress, I will
have my stepchildren there at the appointed time. No more than two hours a day,
mind you. They have duties at home.”

I am certain they do, poor
things. I don’t doubt you work them to death.
“That will not be
necessary. My servants will call for them and bring them home.” Anne waited
until he grudgingly rattled off an address and then turned to the children,
still silent as mice behind her. She took the dog from Guy’s arms. “I will care
for her,” she whispered and was relieved to see hope mingle with the absolute
misery on the boy’s face. Danielle, she felt, was quicker in understanding, for
her sharp little glance at Anne was less fearful than stoic.

Stifling a sigh, Anne turned
to face the stepfather.

“Your name, sir?” She did
not trust him an inch not to renege on this agreement, which after some thought
might seem ridiculously over the top for such a minor mishap.