Page 5 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘Surely you have time to rest for one day?’ Tom wanted to hear about his sister, about her life in Italy and the years during which she had disappeared.

‘I have booked a passage on a ship that sails later this morning.’ She paused and then reached out, took his hand and squeezed. ‘You look just like her.’

‘Was she happy?’

Alessia nodded. ‘Very happy. She loved Giovanni very much and he worshipped her. Of course, when Giovanni died she was heartbroken, but her love for Edward helped her through.’ Gesticulating to the hall, she continued. ‘She wrote more letters, letters for Edward but also some for you. She had time to prepare. Her decline was gradual but steady and she wanted to leave something for Edward to remember her by. All the legal documents are in the bundle as well.’

‘Thank you for bringing them.’

‘I am sorry I cannot stay. I had planned to remain for a few days before returning, but as I say, it is impossible. I am happy to write, once you have read the letters, if you have any questions.’

Tom ran a hand through his short hair, enjoying the bristly feeling on his fingertips. Part of him wondered if he was in some terrible dream fuelled by too much alcohol the night before. Perhaps in a few minutes he would stir, woken by a sound in the real world.

No such relief came.

He could not force Alessia to stay, and understood the sacrifice she had made already in fulfilling her friend’s last request. Even so, as the kindly Italian woman stood he felt a wrench of panic.

‘He likes stories and make-believe, long hugs and to be sung to sleep at night,’ she said, as if reading his mind.

‘Thank you for everything you have done for them both. Can I give you something to pay for your passage?’

‘No. I couldn’t do much for Rebecca, but I could do this.’ She leaned over the sleeping boy and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. Edward stirred but did not wake and, with one final caress of the sleeping boy’s cheek, Alessia left.

Staggering a little, Tom sat down, the reality of everything he had just been told starting to dawn on him. His sister was dead, and now he was guardian to her son, a vulnerable young boy who had lost so much already.

‘I’m not the person you need,’ he murmured as he looked across at his nephew. He knew nothing about children. Over the last decade he had steadfastly refused even to contemplate courting a woman with a view to settling down. He didn’t want to continue the family line and had no intention of ever being anything but a happy bachelor.

A wave of panic washed over him, building gradually until he thought he might be crushed under the weight of responsibility. Tom pulled at his collar, feeling as though something was tightening around his neck, but there was only the loose fabric of his shirt.

He felt the sudden and overwhelming need to get out of the house. The walls were closing in around him and he needed to suck in the fresh air, to remind himself there was a whole world out there.

‘Mrs Hills,’ he called, certain his steadfast housekeeper would not still be abed, with all the commotion going on.

She appeared from the hallway instantly, her face drawn with worry but softening when she saw the sleeping boy.

‘This is my nephew, Edward,’ he said, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. ‘He has had a long journey and I expect will sleep a while. Is there a bed for him?’

‘The blue room is aired and ready.’

‘Good. I will carry him upstairs. I want someone to sit with him in case he wakes. No doubt it will be disturbing for him to be in an unfamiliar house.’ For one dreadful second he wondered if the boy spoke only Italian, then dismissed the idea. Surely Rebecca would have wanted to teach her son her language, to share that part of her with him? ‘I will be back in an hour, maybe two. There are some things I need to arrange.’

‘Of course, sir. I will ask Hetty to sit with him. She has half a dozen younger siblings and is wonderful with children.’

‘Good.’

Tom hesitated before walking over to his nephew and threading his arms underneath the sturdy little body. The boy was warm and snuggled in to Tom’s embrace as he lifted him, exhaling a soft breath and murmuring something inaudible. Something clenched in Tom’s chest and he felt the flicker of recognition. It was as if he were holding his sister in his arms, picking her up when she had scraped her knee or fallen from a tree in one of their games.

Forcing his legs to move, he took one step and then another, moving slowly so not to jolt Edward awake.

As he placed his nephew into the soft double bed in the blue room, the young boy’s eyes flickered open for a second, settling on Tom’s face. He smiled, wriggled down under the sheets and promptly fell back asleep.

Chapter Three

Jane was glad of the darkness as she drew the hood of her cloak over her head and slipped out of the back door. It was a route she had taken many times now and she knew which floorboards to avoid and how to twist the key in the lock to prevent it from making a horrible screeching sound. She wondered if some of the servants were aware she sneaked out like this, choosing to keep quiet rather than inform their mistress, deciding it was none of their business what a country girl from Somerset was doing, creeping about London at all hours.

Outside the morning was misty and cold and a persistent drizzle fell from the sky, soaking her in minutes. It was mid March and sometimes in Somerset the spring flowers would be blooming, but this year the cold temperatures had delayed the first signs of spring. At this time, she knew she would have to walk a fair distance before there would be a hackney coach to hail. It was too early for most people wealthy enough to want a carriage for hire to be up and about.

She walked briskly, head bent against the weather, the package she carried held tightly to her body.