“My father?”
Rohan just shrugged. He still wanted to pound the man into the dirt, but, after all, he had through his daughter given him a niece—George’s daughter—so he didn’t feel as violent as he had before. “There should be no problem. Your father can visit you. On rare occasion. Make that very rare. I will make him an allowance so that he can continue living here at Mulberry House.”
She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know this man. But she knew of him. He was a womanizer, a man famed for his debauchery, just as his father had been, just as his mother still was. She couldn’t imagine having a debauched mother, a debauched mother-in-law. According to George, the Baron and Baroness Mountvale had long been adored by Society. The more wicked they were, the more adored they became. Apparently the same perverse equation was true for the current baron, the Wild Baron. She splayed her hand. “Why are you offering to do this?”
He looked down at her, but he really saw his brother’s face the last time he had been with him, only two days before he’d died. George had been flushed because of something he’d come across by accident. He refused to tell Rohan about it, just said it wouldn’t interest him.
Rohan wondered now if George had ever intended to tell him about—“I don’t know your name,” he said.
4
SHE SMILED UP AT THE UTTERLY BAFFLED EXPRESSION ON his face. She wanted to laugh, but didn’t. “My name is Susannah. It was my mother’s name.”
“You will come with me to Mountvale House?”
Susannah thought of the small serving of beef that was left in the kitchen. She had a total of six pounds to her name, money she’d hoarded for the past year and a half, a shilling at a time. She’d already mended Marianne’s dresses so many times they wouldn’t last much longer. But what swayed her was the thought that Marianne would grow up thinking her grandfather was the way a man should be, that this was the way a family should be. She looked at the baron, searching his face for perfidy. She realized he was also offering her escape. He didn’t know it, but he was. But would she be safe with him?
He knew what she was thinking, but he said nothing, just let her search and search and finally come to a decision.
“It is very kind of you to offer, sir. But it isn’t simply a matter of just Marianne and me.”
“If you’re referring to your father, no, he won’t live at Mountvale. I value my silver too much for that.”
“My father is not a thief.”
“If this letter he wrote me is any indication, he isn’t all that far removed.”
“He was simply concerned. His judgment clouded for a brief time, that’s all. He’s half Irish, you know. He’s very good with horses.”
“His judgment can cloud until it rains, but it won’t be at Mountvale.”
“It’s not my father I was speaking about.”
“What’s the matter now? You want Jamie with you? Fine, I’ll hire him. Besides, I doubt Gulliver will willingly let him out of his sight now. He’s the first person to seduce my horse besides me.”
“No, it’s not Jamie. It’s Toby.”
“Who the devil is Toby? Your favorite cat? If Toby’s a good mouser, I don’t mind carting him with us.”
“Toby is my little brother.”
Rohan just stared at her. “Your little brother,” he repeated slowly, trying to gather his wits. “You have a child and a little brother?”
“Yes. Tobias Hawlworth. He’s eight years old, and I’m really more his mother than his sister. His mother—our mother—died birthing him.” Ah, the pain of that. Susannah had been terrified that she would die as well when she became pregnant with Marianne. But the birth had been relatively easy, thank God.
“But your father wouldn’t allow him to leave. This Toby is his heir, surely—”
“I understand, sir,” she said, and there was acceptance in her calm voice. “But I could no more leave Toby than I could leave Marianne. Thank you for coming. I’m pleased that you got to meet your niece. Good-bye.”
She was trying to shove him out the door. When that didn’t work, she walked outside herself, waving for him to follow her. Gulliver looked in her direction and neighed. Jamie patted the white star on his nose.
“Good-bye,” she called again.
“Susannah! Where are you? Susannah?”
A boy came dashing around the side of the house. He was tall and skinny as a post, and his hair was as black as a sinner’s dreams. He skidded to a stop in front of her. With a big grin, he shoved a notebook into her hands. “Here, just look at this, Susannah. It’s my Latin translations and Vicar Horkle said they were the best he’d ever seen. See, he even wrote “excellent” on the first page. What do you think of that?”
She was silent until she’d opened the notebook, read what the vicar had written. Then she smiled at the boy, grabbed him, and kissed his ear. “You’re a marvel, Master Toby, just a marvel. Ah, but look at that rip in your shirt. Look at your shoes, all scuffed and dirty. What did you do? Oh no, Toby, you fought with that Finley boy again, didn’t you?”