Forbidden in February Read online

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” She took a step backward, her gaze darting to the door as she considered whether she could outrun him. She didn’t think it likely, but she was willing to try.

  He also took a step back and raised his arms, palms outward. Clearly he wanted her to think he was harmless. Her muscles tensed as she prepared to make good her attempt at escape.

  “I apologize for startling you. I am Robert Milton. My mother owned this house. If you could locate one of the other servants, one who’s been here for a few years, they will confirm my identity.”

  Tension eased from her body at his explanation, and she realized that the man before her did indeed resemble the one in the miniature his mother had kept by her bedside. Of course. Mr. Greaves had said that he’d be notifying Robert of his mother’s passing. It only made sense that he’d come here and that he’d have a key to the house.

  She heard his footsteps as he approached, her heart rate continuing to slow when she realized he was moving slowly so as not to alarm her. If he were a burglar or someone intent on harming her, he wouldn’t be trying to put her at ease now.

  “I didn’t wish to disturb you when I came in. I was hoping to familiarize myself with the state of my mother’s affairs since I last saw her.” He stopped in front of her, careful to stay far enough away so she wouldn’t be alarmed, and waved a hand in the direction of the desk. “As you see, the task will take more time than I anticipated.”

  Suddenly conscious of how disheveled she must appear to the immaculately dressed man before her, she swept a hand down the front of her dress in a vain effort to smooth out the creases. As she hadn’t bothered to bring any pins with her, she could do nothing about her unbound hair.

  She raised her eyes to meet his, about to tell him that she would have appreciated some advance notice about his visit, but was struck momentarily speechless. Robert Milton had his mother’s coloring—black hair and blue eyes that seemed almost startling in their intensity. But while Mrs. Milton had remained a beautiful woman right up to the end, one would never characterize her son as being effeminate. She’d expected as much given the fact that he was working as a valet. Her own cousin’s valet had been slim and scarcely taller than her own five-foot frame, but the man standing before her now didn’t seem to have come from the same universe as that other man.

  He was so much taller than her that she was grateful he stood far enough away so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look at him. And while he was slim, something about the way he carried himself told her that he wouldn’t be weak. A ridiculous urge to reach out and touch him, to see whether he sported muscles under his shirtsleeves, had her looking away as she tried to gather the wits that seemed to have fled at his appearance.

  “Do you speak?”

  The amusement in his voice had her straightening her spine and meeting his gaze again. She didn’t miss the way his eyes swept over her, but she refused to allow this man to cause her further discomfort.

  “Of course I do,” she snapped before she could restrain herself. When his eyebrows rose at her rudeness, she took a steadying breath and continued. “I apologize. You caught me by surprise. If I’d known to expect you, I would have received you properly.”

  His brows drew together at her words. “I’m sorry, but you have me at a disadvantage. My mother didn’t tell me she had hired a new maid—”

  “Oh no, I’m not a maid. I’m Miss Isabel Durham, your mother’s companion.”

  His confusion changed at her introduction. She wasn’t sure what to make of this stranger in front of her, but the last thing she expected him to do was to fold his arms across his chest and scowl at her.

  “I see. Well, it turns out that my mother did mention you.”

  His anger baffled her. “I don’t understand. I’ve already apologized for my rudeness. You surprised me and I didn’t know who you were.”

  “Is there a reason why you’re still living here? Wait, let me guess. You’ve decided to move into my mother’s chamber and continue where she left off.”

  “Excuse me? I have no idea what you’re accusing me of. I would never move into your mother’s bedroom, nor do I understand what you mean by ‘continuing where she left off.’ I’m only here because I’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

  “Why?” he asked, taking a step closer.

  He glared down at her for several seconds, and within that time she saw his anger change into something else. Something dangerous that would have had her taking a step backward if the settee weren’t directly behind her.

  “You’re not going to pretend to be shy, are you?” He took another step closer, and her heart gave a funny little leap at the intensity of his gaze. “I assure you, I can handle plainness. You don’t need to be coy with me.”

  At his next step, she raised her hand to prevent him from coming any closer.

  “I think you have me confused with someone else. I said I was your mother’s companion.”

  She gasped in shock when he took hold of her hand and pressed it against his chest. His hand was warm over hers, and she had the irrelevant thought that he was indeed quite muscular.

  “Companion, protégé… I care not what you call it. But what once seemed distasteful to me when my mother first proposed it now sounds attractive beyond measure. Of course, I won’t promise to be your protector—I’ve seen enough growing up in this household to know how such an arrangement can lead to misery all around—but I wouldn’t be averse to a discreet affair.”

  “What?” The word escaped on a shaky breath. Her legs threatened to give out, and she dropped to the settee. To her dismay, instead of releasing her hand, Robert followed her down, sitting entirely too close for her peace of mind.

  “Come now, you don’t have to pretend with me. My mother told me she’d chosen you for me. And you did say that you were awaiting my arrival.”

  She tugged her hand from his grasp, relieved when he released it, and rose quickly, moving around to the back of the settee so that the solid piece of furniture stood between them. Her pulse beat frantically as she tried to make sense of his words.

  He stood, and when he moved to follow her, she made a small sound of alarm that had him furling his brow again. Fortunately, it also seemed to stop him from drawing nearer.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was Mrs. Milton’s companion—only her companion. I certainly am not what… what…” She waved her hand between them. “Whatever it is you are thinking, you can stop right now. When your mother became ill last year, she hired me to keep her company and to help her when she became overtired. Something that happened more frequently as the months passed and her illness progressed. You’d know that if you’d bothered to stay in touch with her at all.”

  He opened his mouth to interject, but she continued before he could say a word. “I don’t know why you’d presume to know anything about me, but I can assure you that I most definitely will not be engaging in an affair with you, nor do I desire your protection.”

  She imbued those two words with such incredulous scorn, Robert actually winced. From the panicked expression on Isabel’s face—no, he must think of her as Miss Durham—it was clear his mother hadn’t been truthful with him when she’d written to tell him about her new friend. She’d mentioned that Miss Durham was her companion, but she’d made it sound as though she were training the woman to become a courtesan. She’d even invited him to visit, hinting broadly that the young woman would be very pleased to receive him.

  Pleased, he thought, his lips twisting with derision at his own gullibility. The poor woman seemed terrified of him. He looked away, trying to think of a way to reassure her that he wasn’t about to pounce on her, although, if he was being honest with himself, the thought held more than a little appeal. He supposed that the best course of action—the only course that would set her mind at ease—would be to retreat.

  Now that his mother was no longer there to answer for her prevarication, he wouldn’t lay the blame for his mi
sunderstanding at her feet. He could give her that, at least, even though it chafed at his pride to accept sole responsibility for his boorish behavior.

  He took a step back and didn’t miss the way the stiff set of her shoulders seemed to ease with the movement. “I’m afraid I misread the situation between you and my mother. I apologize.”

  She inclined her head briefly in acceptance, but she continued to watch him closely. In her place, given the way he had behaved toward her, he wouldn’t have let his guard down either.

  “I’ll take my leave now. I have a meeting with my mother’s solicitor first thing tomorrow morning, after which I plan to return. I hope that’s acceptable?”

  She gave a stiff nod. “The rest of the staff have the day off today, but they’ll be here tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll be eager to hear about your plans now that you’re the master of the house.”

  With his own future up in the air with respect to his position as valet to the Duke of Beckworth, he could relate to their feelings. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she knew about the household finances, but surely she, along with the rest of the staff, wouldn’t still be here if they weren’t receiving their salary. And the longer he remained, the more afraid of him Isabel would become. He found that it bothered him more than a little to think she feared him.

  He took his leave then, moving to the desk chair to retrieve the coat he’d removed and slung over its back before exiting the room. He didn’t miss Miss Durham’s soft exhalation of relief when he crossed the threshold. His mother had a lot to answer for, but he should have realized she hadn’t been completely honest with him. When had she ever been?

  Chapter Three

  Robert was early for his appointment with Mr. Greaves. As he waited to be shown into the solicitor’s office, he couldn’t stop thinking about the previous day’s events. Recrimination at how he’d treated Miss Durham had weighed heavy on him, keeping him from sleeping well, and in the clear light of a new day he was no closer to resolving his mixed emotions.

  His anger at his mother for continuing to manipulate him even as she neared her death only served to make him feel even guiltier for not having visited her sooner. And the fact that his mother’s companion—the person who’d been entrusted with her care when she needed it most—was now afraid of him left him feeling oddly unsettled. He was certain of one thing, however. Somehow he would make things up to her.

  He was surprised when Mr. Greaves came out to greet him. He’d never even heard of the man until he’d received his correspondence informing him of his mother’s death, hadn’t even known that she had a solicitor. The man before him now was older, his posture stooped from too much time spent behind a desk, and Robert couldn’t help wondering how long he’d known his mother.

  “My condolences on your mother’s passing,” Mr. Greaves said as they entered his cramped office. Books littered every surface save for the empty chair positioned across from the man’s desk.

  Robert wanted to demand why it had taken so long for the man to write to him, but restrained himself, accepting the man’s sentiment with a curt nod of his head. In the end it didn’t matter if he’d arrived the day after her passing or months later. His mother was dead, and he was still the ungrateful child who hadn’t seen her in years.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice,” Robert said. His mother didn’t possess a great fortune, and he’d expected to be kept waiting while the man devoted the majority of his time to his wealthier clients. Although from the shabby state of Greaves’s office, he doubted the man had any clients that would fit that category.

  “Of course. I hated to send you the news in a letter, but seeing as your mother had been sick for some time, I’m sure the news of her passing wasn’t unexpected.”

  Robert almost cringed, but he couldn’t detect any censure in the other man’s face. Clearly Mr. Greaves didn’t know about his estrangement from his mother.

  The man dragged a sheaf of papers from one corner of his desk onto the center and placed a pair of spectacles on his rather large nose. “I have here your mother’s will—”

  “What?” Robert frowned at the small stack of pages. He’d expected something short, a few pages at most.

  Mr. Greaves looked at him over his spectacles. “It is customary for individuals to have a document outlining how their assets are to be distributed after their death.”

  Robert made a small sound of annoyance. He may be in service, but he wasn’t lacking in wits. “I know what a will is.” Then the other part of the solicitor’s remark sank in. “I was under the impression that my mother’s possessions aside from the house were modest.”

  Mr. Greaves removed his spectacles and leaned back in his chair. “It is true that Mrs. Milton kept her expenses modest, but a not-insignificant amount of money was settled on her after your birth. Let me see…” He donned his spectacles again and shifted through the first few sheets of paper. “Here it is. In the twenty-eight years since your birth, that amount has grown.” He removed a page from the pile and handed it to Robert.

  Robert looked down at what appeared to be a statement from his mother’s bank account. The balance, while by no means a fortune, was much larger than expected.

  “She never told me about any of this.”

  Mr. Greaves smiled kindly at him. “Aside from a small bequest of fifty pounds that your mother left to the companion she hired last year, the remainder is yours. Also, I understand you sent her a small amount of money from your earnings over the years. She saved that money in a separate account that is already in your name.” Mr. Greaves handed him another bank statement as he continued, “You’ll be able to access the money in that account right away. As for the rest, I’ll being work on transferring your mother’s assets into your name, but understand that it might take a little while.”

  Robert shook his head, bile rising in his throat, and pushed the documents away from him. “I don’t want the money from that settlement.”

  The smile dropped from the solicitor’s face, replaced by ill-concealed disbelief. “You must not have heard me correctly—”

  “I heard you, and I’m telling you that I want no part of that money.” He’d accept the money he’d sent her over the years—he’d earned it through honest work, after all. But he wanted no part of the money his mother had earned by whoring herself out to his father, a wealthy member of the gentry who hadn’t even seen them in eighteen years. The man his mother had constantly badgered Robert to approach, hoping to use him to bring about a reconciliation. He’d always thought his mother wanted him back in her life because she missed the money and jewelry he’d lavished on her during the years she’d been his mistress, but apparently she hadn’t needed his father’s money after all. Nor had she needed the meagre amount he’d sent her over the years.

  Was anything she’d told him true? If he didn’t bear a physical resemblance to his father, he wouldn’t be surprised to discover she’d lied to both of them about his paternity as well.

  “You are, of course, free to do what you’d like with the money. If you so desire—” Mr. Greaves gave a grimace of distaste and cleared his throat before continuing. “If you so desire, you can give the money away. But as per the terms of your mother’s will, I must transfer the funds into your name.”

  Robert planned to do just that, but he’d put the other man out of his misery and drop that subject. “I want to thank you for continuing to pay the household staff until I could return.”

  He needed to thank Mrs. Harris and Walters for staying with his mother despite the fact she wasn’t an easy to woman to serve. His thoughts flickered briefly to Isabel Durham, but he forced them back to the matter at hand. His mother had already seen to Isabel’s future. It was up to him to settle an amount on the others after their years of faithful service. It was a mystery to him why his mother hadn’t already done so.

  Mr. Greaves shook his head. “I’ve made no such payments. They weren’t outlined in the terms of thi
s document, and I wouldn’t presume to do so until I spoke to you first.”

  The solicitor’s revelation surprised him. Isabel had mentioned that she’d given the staff the day off, which had to mean they were still employed.

  The rest of the meeting passed quickly enough. Robert was just standing to take his leave when Mr. Greaves waved him back into his seat.

  “There’s one other thing,” the man said absently as he attacked a stack of papers on a different corner of his desk. He gave a small exclamation of triumph when he found what he was looking for. “I didn’t expect that anyone would be at the house. You say that the staff are still there?” At Robert’s nod, the solicitor continued. “That’s curious. At any rate, I arranged to have your mother’s correspondence directed to my office. She hasn’t received much… a few bills that I took the liberty of paying, which I’ll be including in my bill. But there was a letter addressed to Miss Isabel Durham. I don’t recognize the sender.”

  Robert thanked him and added the correspondence to the paperwork the solicitor had already given him. As he left the office, he wondered what in blazes he was going to do with it all. In that moment he understood why his mother had tossed all her bills and documents haphazardly into the drawers of her desk. Now it was up to him to sort through the entire mess.

  Chapter Four

  After being caught so thoroughly off guard by Mrs. Milton’s son the day before, a man who hadn’t behaved at all like she’d expected, Isabel was determined to hold the upper hand when he returned. Or as much as she’d be allowed to given that her future was dependent on him. She couldn’t very well force him to allow her to remain at the house once he took possession of it.

  When she’d learned from Mrs. Milton’s solicitor that she had left her a small bequest, she’d been speechless with gratitude and affection for the older woman. Fifty pounds wasn’t a lot of money—it certainly was nothing compared to what Isabel’s family had once been worth—but she’d immediately envisioned moving somewhere remote and setting herself up in a small cottage. It would require careful management, but surely she could find some type of work to augment that money. She was a fair hand with a needle and could take in sewing. She wasn’t afraid of hard work, and if she saved and was very careful, it was possible she could make that money stretch.