Rules For A Proper Governess (MacKenzies & McBrides #7)(31)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

“Porkies?” Sinclair tried to focus on what she was saying, and not the fact that the wisps of hair straggling about her face made her even more beautiful. “Lies? About what?”

“About things he’s going to do, or wants to do. Sometimes it’s idle threats but sometimes it ain’t.”

Bertie trailed off and wet her lips, making them red and moist. Sinclair’s body went tight. “Bertie, will you please come to the point?”

“I’m trying to. Jeffrey.” Her face was too pale, her eyes dark in the dim light. “He told me if I didn’t go home to him he’d come back with his friends to rob you blind or take your children and hold them to ransom—though I warned him he’d have a bit more than he bargained for if he tried that with Andrew. I got Jeffrey to leave me today, though I think it was more the sight of the nice constable strolling by that persuaded him, but he’ll be back. I’m scared about what he’ll do.”

Sinclair’s temper mounted. “He won’t do anything. I won’t let him. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Don’t dismiss him. He came all the way to Hyde Park, where I was alone with Cat and Andrew. I’m grateful he didn’t try anything then, but he likes strength in numbers. He’ll do what he said.”

“Unless you go back to him?” Sinclair’s rage wound higher. “The hell you will. He won’t be grateful for it—he’ll keep bullying you, threatening worse if you try to leave him again.” He came to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. “Bullies never stop, Bertie. They keep at you and at you, unless you face them and spit at them.” Sinclair punctuated his words with sharp jabs of his finger. Bertie blinked at him, but she didn’t look afraid. Not of him. “I bloody well won’t let you go running off back to him if he’s that much of a danger to you. You stay here, and help me with what I need you to, and be damned to those who don’t like it!”

The world started rocking, the air leaving it. Bertie came to her feet next to him, her skirts making a pleasant rustling sound. “Something else has happened, hasn’t it?” she asked in concern. “You’re as upset as I am, but not about Jeffrey. We’re talking about different things, ain’t we?”

“I’m talking about my ass of a brother-in-law, damn him. Oh, God, Bertie, what if he’s right, and he takes them away from me?”

Sinclair struggled for breath. He’d been like this since childhood—when something bad enough happened, an iron band would wrap around his chest and compress his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. He’d learned to hide the malady, especially in the army, teaching himself exercises to suppress it. The first year Daisy had gone, Sinclair had barely been able to breathe normally for any stretch of time. He’d painfully taught himself control again, and the incidents had mostly stopped. Until recently—since he’d met Bertie, in fact.

Bertie reached for his hand, her warm fingers wrapping his ice-cold ones. Her touch broke through the constriction, and Sinclair dragged grating air into his lungs.

“You all right?” Bertie led him one step back to the sofa. “Sit with me. Tell me what happened. What brother-in-law? You mean the lord with the horses?”

“What?” Sinclair made himself suck in another breath as they sank to the couch. “No, not Cameron. My wife’s brother, Edward. He wrote me a letter.” He touched his breast pocket, the paper inside crackling. He had to wait until he could breathe enough to speak in clear sentences. “A bloody awful letter. Edward never liked me. He blames me for taking Daisy away from him. I met Daisy in Rome, when I was on leave—we were married by the end of the second week we knew each other. Edward never forgave her, or me, especially me. He’s pursuing legal means to become Cat and Andrew’s guardian. He says he knows it will be difficult, but it’s the least he can do for poor Maggie’s son and daughter.”

Bertie listened in alarm. “Can he do that?”

Sinclair felt his chest tighten again, but he made himself stop. He concentrated on exhaling, letting his lungs draw the air back in on their own. “It’s a possibility. A father has full say over his children, but if Edward can make a case that I’m incompetent, that the children would be better off if he and his wife took them in—dear God, Bertie, he could do it.”

“The law made me stay with my dad when my mum died,” Bertie said. “And he’s bloody awful.”

Sinclair shook his head. “Edward has much money and influence, many connections. He wants more money still, which is another reason the bastard is after me. If he can mold and shape Andrew, he can go to Andrew with his hand out when Andrew comes into his inheritance.” Sinclair scrubbed his hands over his face, his breathing easier now, but bleakness lingered in his heart. “What if Edward’s right? Look at me. I’m a wreck of a man. What kind of father have I been? My children are little devils. I love them, but I’m not blind. If I’d paid more attention, Andrew wouldn’t be so wild, or Cat so . . . detached.”

He found Bertie sitting close to him, her warm skirts spilling over his thighs. “Now, you stop right there, Mr. McBride,” she said, her eyes sparkling with anger. “You’re a perfectly fine father. You don’t beat them, first of all. You give them a good house, and lots of things, and book-learning—at least you try with the book-learning. I didn’t have none of that. This Edward can’t say your kids are mistreated, because they ain’t. I can see that. You’re good at laws. You’ll best him, I know it.”

Her confidence was as warm as her touch. “I’m a barrister,” Sinclair said. “An advocate. Not a solicitor. The niceties are beyond me.”

“What are you talking about? You stand up in court and tell everyone what’s right and what’s not.”

Sinclair wanted to laugh. “Love, I’ve known barristers who’ve never cracked a law book in their lives. They take on pupils to do the legal research for them. To be a barrister you only need a firm resolve, a persuasive way about you, and a large pair of bollocks.”

Bertie rewarded him with a brief grin. Her unwavering faith made Sinclair feel a bit better. Gave him hope, let him breathe easier. If Edward wanted a fight, he’d have one.

Then Bertie’s smile dimmed. “If your brother-in-law gets wind that I’m not a proper governess, he’ll use that against you too, won’t he?”