“Miss Whitchurch and the child?” Orson asked.
“I know I have no right…” Benjamin began.
“I understand. My worry for Emma nearly sent me to Bedlam.” Orson grinned. “There are more than enough in this house to respond to Marksman’s needs. Enjoy a meal with Miss Whitchurch. Bounce the boy on your knee. Feel human again. That is what I feel with Lady Orson. She is my connection to the hope for a future.”
It was Friday,the last day of July, and Victoria had yet to set eyes on Lord Thompson since the previous Friday evening when she bid him agood night. He had left Macalhey House in the early hours of Saturday. “Too long,” her mind announced as she led the way to the door to bid her workers farewell.
“We should be able to finish all the pieces for Lady Hendrick tomorrow,” Mrs. Geoffrey declared, “then we might begin those for Mrs. Katersky.”
“I will finish the Lady Hendrick order, and you may begin the one for Mrs. Katersky,” Miss Adolph said with a grin. “You are more patient than I when it comes to those little knots Lady Hendrick prefers to decorate her order.”
Victoria laughed, for they had all known trouble with the embroidered-like knots her ladyship had requested. “Come,” she said as she motioned to the door. “I realize you must be ready for your evening meal. I shall see you in the morning.”
Victoria was enjoying the laughter and the company of these women as she tugged the door wide. It was only then did she realize someone stood outside the portal. She gasped and staggered backwards a few steps. Horror had arrived, and it stepped inside before she could slam and bolt the door.
“Well, well, well,” Mr. Jonas Betts said as he glanced around the entry hall. “A bit sparse,” he declared, “but much better than anything your sister thought appropriate. I always knew you to be the superior of the vicar’s daughters.”
Victoria quickly recovered from her surprise. “Why are you here, Mr. Betts?” she demanded. She noted how Miss Adolph backed towards the connecting door between the two sections of Macalhey House; therefore, Victoria caught Mr. Betts’s arm to distract him. “Lord Thompson would not approve of your entering his house without his permission.”
“I do not take orders,” Betts said as he shook off her hand, “from the likes of Thompson.”
Victoria’s mind raced to discover a means for her to respond. “Then, I ask again, why are you here, Mr. Betts?”
“I want to see my son,” he growled.
“I fear such is impossible, sir.If you,” she emphasized, “have a son, he does not reside under this roof. I am confident a man of your standing, especially with the implications of the barony you are destined to know, would realize you have no son residing within these walls,” she declared as she gestured for his withdrawal.
“Semantics cannot change the fact the child is mine,” Mr. Betts growled, “and I mean to see him.”
“Is there a problem, Miss Whitchurch?” Mr. Patterson asked as he entered the room from the connecting door, along with Mr. Brunswick and two other footmen.
“This gentleman entered without my permission,” Victoria explained. “He is Lord Betts’s son,” she warned.
“You cannot keep my child from me,” Betts warned. “I will have the law come for him.”
“And then what?” Victoria argued. “Send him off to some place where he might learn a skill and forget about him? Having done your so-called duty, you would ignore him for the remainder of his days. What future is that? Your father will never permit a child born without the legality of banns to inherit.”
Betts looked at the others gathered within and obviously thought they could do nothing to stop him. He violently shoved Victoria aside, sending her sprawling upon the floor.
Benjamin had knownrelief when he rode into the circle in the middle of the street upon which he lived. He could see the open door on Miss Whitchurch’s side of the house, and, for the briefest of seconds hethought perhaps she had anticipated his return.
Then he noted the unfamiliar carriage before the house and was immediately alarmed. Benjamin edged the horse closer and dismounted, only to hear a squeal that sounded very much as if it was Miss Whitchurch, as well as cries of alarm.
Without considering the consequences, he charged up the steps. A man stood over Miss Whitchurch, and Benjamin no longer saw reason. She was sprawled at the man’s feet, and he appeared to be prepared to kick her.
Benjamin caught the man from behind, pulling him upward and off the floor to slam the fellow down hard on the brick tiles. Heaving in anger, he lorded over the fellow who was attempting to rise to his knees.
“I advise you to stay down,” he growled, as two women assisted Miss Whitchurch from the floor. “Better yet,” he hissed. “Crawl your way out of my house and never darken my door again.”
“My lord.” Miss Whitchurch rushed to his side, her hand resting on Benjamin’s back, and that flicker of hope had arrived again in his chest. “It is Mr. Betts. He wishes to see the boy.”
“Conceiving a child does not make a man a father,” Benjamin declared in hard tones. “Nor does it make a woman a mother. If you wish to visit the child, find Miss Cassandra and bring her here. Miss Whitchurch would gladly provide her sister access to the child. Otherwise, you should be gone from my home before I count to ten. Never cross over my portal again. One… two…”
Mr. Betts struggled to his feet as Benjamin continued to count, “Five… six…” Betts lifted his chin in defiance. “I cannot bring Cassandra here.”
“Eight…” Benjamin said over the man’s protests, while Miss Whitchurch demanded, “Why?”
“Because your sister has been dead since early June!”
