The Silver Coin (22 page)

In the process of settling herself, Glynnis went rigid. “Emma? Why would you be searching for her?”

“On behalf of my client,” Royce said gently. “Emma’s father.”

Shutters descended over Glynnis’s eyes. “What do you know of Emma’s father?”

Royce lowered himself back to the settee, speaking as frankly and objectively as he could. “I know who he is—the Viscount Ryder. I know you were employed in his home when Emma was conceived. I know he treated you abysmally when you told him you were with child. I know he abandoned you, and ignored your message informing him of Emma’s birth.’’ A weighty pause. “And I know that he’s aging now, and deeply remorseful for what he’s done. He realizes he can never make up for his callousness and negligence. But he wants to try—if not with you, then with Emma.”

“Just like that.” Glynnis Martin gave an incredulous shake of her head. “He seduced me, threw me out when I conceived his child, and denied that child’s existence for eighteen years. And now he’s remorseful. Tell me, my lord, how am I supposed to react? With compassion?”

“I’d be lying if I said yes to that,” Royce stated bluntly. “Were I in your shoos, I’d probably hate the man. But your scars aren’t really the issue here.”

She looked taken aback, both by Royce’s unexpected support of her plight and by his equallyunexpect ed bluntness. “I see.” She cleared her throat, her defensiveness visibly abating. “If my sears aren’t the issue, then what is?”

“Emma is.” Royce didn’t diverge from his straightforward approach. “Look, Miss Martin. Despite all the insults we hurl at him, Lord Ryder is Emma’s father. And—if it makes any difference at all—I can honestly say his regret at having rejected her, and you, is very real and very acute. He realizes he was a stupid, selfish fool. He also realizes he can’t undo what’s been done. But he’s old, he’s alone, and he’s aware that his life is drawing to an end. He’d like to meet his child, to try to afford her—and himself—the chance to form some kind of relationship, however tenuous, before he dies. He’d also like to leave her his title, his estate, and his fortune—which is considerable.”

Glynnis emitted a soft gasp. “I—I’m stunned. I had no idea.” She pursed her lips, recovered herself. “But Emma is not for sale, my lord.”

“I never assumed she was,” Royce responded, unsurprised by Glynnis’s reaction. She was clearly a proud woman, and a protective, devoted mother. All of which he admired—and planned to use, not only to his client’s advantage but, whether Glynnis Martin knew it or not, to hers and her daughter’s.

“I assure you,” Royce continued, his tone and gaze unwavering, “that Lord Ryder has no desire to purchase your daughter. He’s not luring her with the promise of money. He’s simply offering her all that’s his to give.” A profound pause. “I’m a very good judge of character, Miss Martin, especially when it comes to my clients. The viscount has no ulterior motives, nor is he stupid enough to believe he can buy Emma ‘sloyalties. He justwants togive her, her birthright---and perhaps afford himself a measure of peace, a sense of having left something behind that’s real and lasting. Surely you can understand that?”

Glynnis averted her gaze, indecision warring on her face.

“I believe that if you give this some thought…” Royce pressed.

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“Why?” Royce inquired gently. “Because you might find yourself softening?”

“Glynnis,” the dowager interrupted, reaching out to take the younger woman’s hand in hers. “Listen to me. You’re angry. You have reason to be. I share your anger and hurt, as I have from the day you told me what the viscount had done. But I’m a great deal older than you. And I have a perspective you have yet to acquire. Age changes people. They suddenly see things clearly that, in the past, they were blind to. I think that’s what’s happening here.”

“You expect me to forgive him?” Glynnis asked her employer in amazement.

“Of course not. I expect you to think of Emma. Don’t let your bitterness, however justified, cheat her out of what’s rightfully hers. You’ll regret it.”

“What’s rightfully hers,” Glynnis repeated bleakly. “The viscount’s money.”

“There’s a lot more involved here than money,” Royce put in.

“Such as what? A tide? Status?”

“You’re missing my point. Greed is clearly not in your nature, so I’d be a fool to use it as an incentive to sway you into accepting Lord Ryder’s request. I’m urging you to do so for a number of reasons: to give Emma a sense of heritage—something meeting her father would permit; to give her the formal acknowledgment she has been denied all these years; to ensure her future, so she’s never out in the cold, alone and abandoned, the way you were.” Royce paused, glancing down at the carpet before lifting his gaze to meet Glynnis’s. “And last—despite what you’ve claimed, despite what we’vebothclaimed—to offer a shred of charity to a lonely old man. Pain and resentment aside, she is his daughter, Miss Martin.”

Her expression softened, and Royce watched her innate decency prevail over her bitterness. “Yes, my lord. I know she is.”

“Discuss it with Emma,” he suggested. “She’s young, but she’s hardly a child. I think she deserves the right to know her father has asked to see her, don’t you?”

Wearily, she nodded. “Considering how often she’s asked me questions about him—yes. She does.”

Satisfied with the results of this first meeting, Royce made to rise. “I’ll go then, give you a chance to talk with her. I’m staying at a local inn, so I can return—”

“Wait.” Glynnis came to her feet in a flourish. “I appreciate how considerate you’re being. But I know my daughter. The instant I tell her about this, she’ll want to talk with you. So, if you don’t mind waiting, I’ll get Emma now. Just give me a few minutes alone with her. Then, I’ll bring her to you. I’d be grateful if you’d explain the situation to her exactly as you did to me. Would that be too inconvenient, my lord?”

“No, of course not.”

In truth, Royce couldn’t be more pleased. If he could eliminate a night of waiting, that mightenab l ehim to cut his trip by a full day.

And get him back to Medford Manor by tomorrow night.

“Thank you,” Glynnis was saying. “I’ll get Emma.” She turned to the dowager, frowned as she noticed the trembling of her hands. “Your Grace? Perhaps you should retire now. You’re exhausted.”

The elderly woman nodded, even that gesture appearing to tire her. “If Lord Royce doesn’t mind waiting alone, I think I will.”

“Please, go up with Miss Martin,” Royce said, assessing the situation quickly, and stepping forward to kiss the dowager’s quivering hand. “I apologize for tiringyou.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, her fingers tightening briefly in Royce’s. She raised her eyes to his, and hesaw the shimmer of tears glistening there. “You’ve brought me just what I needed. Now I can leave this world in peace. Thank you, sir.” With that, she accepted Glynnis’s arm, leaning heavily against her as she came slowly to her feet. Pausing, she gestured weakly toward the sideboard. “Help yourself to a brandy. It will warm away the winter chill.’’

“I will. Thank you.” Royce watched the two women walk away—Glynnis supporting the dowager’s frail, aged frame—and he felt strangely moved by what had just taken place.

He blinked, stunned by his own reaction.

When had he started succumbing to sentiment?

He didn’t need to explore that question to know its answer.

Breanna.

The thought of her brought his mind back to returning to Medford Manor by tomorrow night.

Swiftly, his mind raced, laying out plans. He’d reason with Emma now. Hopefully, if she was as curious about her father as Glynnis had implied, she’d agree to ride to Sussex and meet with him late tomorrow morning. That would give Royce the early morning hours to cheek out the Berkshire shops, and the remainder of the afternoon—after leaving Ryder’s home—to cover the shops in Sussex. From there, he’d tide on to Surrey, chat with the shopkeepers before closing, then ride directly to Kent before nightfall.

To Kent—and to Breanna.

Royce gritted his teeth, acknowledging to himself that he had a lot to ponder with regard to Breanna Colby. Tonight, he promised himself. When he was alone in his room at the inn. There, he’d devote serious thought to what in the hell was happening between them, where this fixation was leading. And what in God’s name he was feeling.

It was half past ten o’clock that night when Stacie shut the door to Breanna’s temporary quarters, leaned back against it as if to bar her cousin from leaving, and announced, “All right, Breanna. That does it. I’m not waiting another instant. We’ve made up the room. We’ve brought in your sketches, your needlepoint, and all your favorite porcelain figures. It’s as much home as it’s going to be. Now talk to me.”

Breanna turned, placing her final statue—the horse she’d had since childhood—on the fireplace mantel. She raised her brows quizzically. “You know as much as I do. Damen is turning up the lamp in my chambers, then coming here to escort you to bed. Hibbert is sitting right outside this door, planning to guard it for the night. Wells is standing at his post like a stubborn sentry who refuses to rest. You and I are both expected to get some sleep, after which—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.” Stacie folded her arms across her breasts, giving her cousin a pointed look. “I’ve waited since the ball. And I’m not budging until you tell me what’s going on between you and Royce Chadwick.”

A flush stained Breanna’s cheeks. “Oh … that.”

“Yes. That.” Stacie inclined her head. “It’s even more serious than I thought. I can tell just by looking at you.”

Sighing, Breanna perched at the edge of her bed.” I don’t know how serious it is. I only know that I feel as if I’m being tossed about in a windstorm and I can’t seem to break free or catch my breath. What’s more, I’m not sure that I even want to.”

“That sounds suspiciously like love.”

Silence.

Stacie came to sit beside Breanna, taking her hand in hers. “Are you in love with Royce?”

Breanna gave a helpless shrug. “I’ve known him less than a fortnight.”

“That doesn’t answer my question”

“I know.” Breanna stared down at their joined hands. “I think about him constantly. When he’s in the room, I can scarcely look away. When we talk, if s as if we understand each other completely, despite the fact that we’re so very different in so many ways. And when we touch…” A pause, as Breanna struggled to give voice to such intimate feelings. “When we touch, I lose myself entirely. I ache. I burn. I want things I never even imagined wanting. No, not wanting— needing. It’s as if there’s a whole different me inside, a person I don’t even recognize but one Royce seems to know. Does that make any sense?”

“Oh, yes.” Stacie exhaled sharply. “A lot of sense.” She tucked an unruly strand of hair off her face. “You’re in love with him, Breanna. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

A thoughtful pause. “I have no answer for you. Because I’m not sure how Royce feels about me.”

“Find out,” Stacie advised. “Better still, helphimfind out. I think you’ll both be pleased with the results.”

“We’re in the midst of hunting down a killer. Surely I should wait—”

“No, you shouldn’t” Stacie gave an adamant shake of her head. “Love doesn’t wait. Not even for danger to subside. Aren’t you the one who taught me that not too many months ago?”

A flicker of memory danced in Breanna’s eyes.”Itappears my own advice is coming back to haunt me.”

Stacie’s grin was smug. “Yes. Pity, isn’t it?”

At that same moment, Royce was hovering just inside the entranceway at Pearson Manor, patiently answering the last of the two dozen questions Emma had fired at him since agreeing to meet her father the next day.

She was a delightful young woman. Much, Royce suspected, as her mother had been in her youth. She was charming, inquisitive, and lacking in artifice—her golden hair unbound, her gray eyes keen and intelligent. She’d been without a father her whole life. At last she was being offered an alternative. And she was eager to explore it, if somewhat cautiously, for all the right reasons.

“Will he expect me to move in right away?” she asked Royce, concern lining her face. “BecauseIcan’t make that commitment. It depends upon my mother’s plans, the dowager’s health and, truthfully, how well the viscount… my father,” she corrected herself, “and I get on together.”

“Lord Ryder has no expectations, Emma,” Royce replied in total candor. “He’ll be elated thatIfound you, and that you agreed to see him. After that…I’msure he has his hopes, but they’re not demands.”

“He has no right to demand anything,” Glynnis put in quietly.

“You’re right.” Royce met her gaze, seeing the kind of bleakness that resulted from having her youth stripped away, along with whatever hopes and dreams she’d possessed. Now those dreams belonged to her daughter, and it was clear that, while the dowager might think of Ryder’s offer as a future for Glynnis, Glynnis regarded it only as a future for her daughter.

For her, there was only the present—or whatever was left of it when the dowager passed away.

“Mother, will you ride to Sussex with Lord Royce and me?” Emma was inquiring, trying to include her mother in this all-important step.

Royce knew the answer to that before Glynnis spoke it.

“No, Emma. I won’t. I can’t. Her Grace needs me.”

Emma studied her mother speculatively. “That’s not the only reason, is it?”

Glynnis drew a slow breath. “It’s a very important reason, but, no, it’s not the only one. This is one journey I can’t take with you. It’s one youmusttake in order to move ahead with your life. But, in my case, it would be like slipping backwards, into a past I’ve finally managed to put behind me. As I said, you have to go. But I can’t.”

Understanding flitted across Emma’s face, and she hesitated, torn between loyalty to her mother and desire to complete a circle that, for her, had never been closed.

“Don’t even consider changing your mind.” Glynnis obliterated her daughter’s dilemma in one fell swoop. She went to Emma, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You must meet him, form your own opinion. He’s your father. He’s looked high and low for you. You’d never forgive yourself if you refused.” Glynnis paused, weighing her next words carefully. “I’ll never stop being your mother, Emma, no matter where either of us goes. But I’ve made my choices. It’s now time for you to make yours. Do you understand what I’m saying?” A solemn nod.