Rules For A Proper Governess (MacKenzies & McBrides #7)(64)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

Sinclair’s arms tightened around her. “I met Daisy in Rome, where she was there with her lover, and as I say, they tried to fleece me. They told me Daisy’s mother was very ill—dying—but that Daisy didn’t have enough money to go all the way back to Ireland to be with her. A simple story, but I was kindhearted, and stupid. I offered to buy the train and boat tickets for her, but she and her lover—they said they were married—told me they weren’t certain Daisy’s mother wouldn’t be moved to London, and they’d rather not have tickets they couldn’t use. A waste of my money, wouldn’t it be? So I gave Daisy enough to buy the tickets herself. I was supposed to rejoin my company the day after I last saw them, but there was a delay, and I was granted another few days’ leave. That’s how I caught them—I saw them in another trattoria, chatting up another fool with the same story.”

“Ah.” Bertie shook her head. “Bad form, that. You should always move on to a different town once you’ve finished with the mark. Did they try to run?”

“Yes. I caught both of them in their rooms, where they’d gone to get their things. I was so enraged, I frightened them—they at last recognized the danger of making a fool of a trained fighter who went about armed. I told them I wouldn’t hurt them or run to the police if they returned my money and went the hell back to Ireland. They handed me the cash, and I thought that the end of it, but later that night, they followed me to my hotel room, and James—Maggie’s lover—shoved her at me when I opened the door. He was still afraid I’d go to the police and decided that a night with Maggie would make me grateful and compliant.”

Bertie nodded, even as she felt disgust. “It’s what some men think of. Women are there to smile and coerce, or pay with their bodies if need be.”

Sinclair gave her a narrow look. “I’m sorry you aren’t surprised by it, lass. I was sorry Maggie wasn’t either. I was so furious I pulled her inside and locked out her lover. I told her she needed to get away from him, and she broke down and said she’d been trying to do just that. She’d been with him a few years by then and realized what sort of man he was. He’d never legally married her, as much as he’d promised. She begged for my help—money was what she needed, because James never shared the take with her.”

Bertie frowned. “How did you know that wasn’t another story she made up on the spot? To get more money from you?”

“I didn’t. I told Daisy that the best way I could help her was to marry her and take her out of the country. I decided that if she truly wanted to be rid of James, she’d take that chance. To my great surprise, she said yes.”

Sinclair stopped, taking a deep breath. Bertie pressed her hand to his chest and found his heart beating hard. She wondered if he’d have one of the breathing spasms she’d seen him go into, but to her relief he drew a long breath without strain.

“What happened?” Bertie asked softly.

Sinclair took another breath and cleared his throat. “I sent for the police and had James arrested. I took Daisy back to my company with me, found the chaplain, and had him marry us. I expected Daisy at every turn to run away from me, now that her lover had been taken, but she never did.”

“And she became your wife,” Bertie said. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. I told the chaplain and my commander that we’d met in Rome and fallen in love, and everyone believed it.” Sinclair paused. “And then, we fell in love.”

Sinclair’s face changed when he said the words, his love not feigned. Bertie’s heart stung.

“It’s a sweet story.” She touched Sinclair’s cheek. “You still love her.”

Sinclair looked down at Bertie, his gray eyes quiet. “I’ve never hidden that.”

“What I mean is, I know the love was real. Or else you wouldn’t care what Inspector Fellows, or me, found out about her. You’re still protecting her. I wager even her brother doesn’t know what really happened.”

Sinclair shook his head. “He knew Daisy ran away but never who with—she never told them about James. When Daisy contacted her family again, she was with me. Edward concluded that I was the man she’d eloped with in the first place.”

“That’s why he blames you.” Made sense now. “He thinks you’re the blackguard, not this James person. Why don’t you tell Mr. Davies all about him?”

“The same reason I didn’t explain to Fellows. Fellows can be discreet, but I don’t need Edward besmirching Daisy’s name, which he would. He’d take it as a personal offence that his sister had fallen into a bad life, and condemn her, and me. Such a thing would cling to Cat and Andrew as well, especially Cat.”

True. The standards to which middle- and upper-class girls were held were stringent, unmercifully so, which had always made Bertie glad not to be one.

“One of the letters implied that maybe Cat wasn’t your daughter,” Bertie said. “But I wager she is.”

“Cat was born one year and two months after I married Daisy,” Sinclair said. “And James had been sent to prison after his arrest in Rome. Apparently he was wanted for many crimes. There is no doubt about Cat.” He smiled fondly. “Plus, she is very much a McBride. She reminds me of Steven when he was her age. Steven could be very quiet, even obedient, right before the devil came out. I was more like Andrew, shouting at everyone and running ragged over them.”

Bertie liked imagining a wild, blustering, shouting Sinclair. “But people might believe the letters. And the ones about me. Cat having a working-class pickpocket as a governess might look bad for her too.”

“I hadn’t planned to announce the fact,” Sinclair said. “My household staff is so grateful to you for taking care of Andrew and Cat that they wouldn’t mind if you were the devil himself. Anything to keep my unruly children tamed.”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve tamed them, exactly.”

“No, but they like you. They listen to you, and even respect you. I have never been good with children, and when I lost Daisy . . .” Sinclair stopped, swallowed. “Perhaps she was a confidence trickster to the end, because I couldn’t, for the longest time, let her out of my life.”

Bertie drew her hand down the silk of his waistcoat. “We never let go of the ones we most love. They’re always there with us, never really gone. As it should be.”