Governesses Under The Mistletoe. Liz Tyner

if not happy. End of plan.

      * * *

      William slept well into the next morning and lingered through his morning wash. His dreams had been of birds fluttering about with feathered bonnets.

      When dinnertime came, he would be at Sophia’s house. He pulled a book from the table where it had sat for a year, planning to read enough of it so he could say he’d finished, then he would return it in time to sit for a meal with his sister, and her guest, and hopefully an evening around the pianoforte. It was only natural that he might want to visit and make sure their plans were progressing well and offer assistance.

      * * *

      With the mostly finished book tucked under his arm and his chin feeling raw from the second shave of the day, he strode to the front door when a carriage pulled to the front of the house.

      Sophia didn’t have a town coach. It could only be his father.

      William put down the book and walked to the staircase before the butler could answer. The front door shook with a violent knock.

      William opened the door. His father brushed by him, bodies connecting as a shove, and William stepped back.

      His father raised his eyes to his son’s face, slammed his beaver hat and gold-tipped cane into William’s hand and said, ‘Get used to that.’ He continued up the stairs. ‘I will see that if you are not hanged, then you will be transported. It is apparently your wish.’

      Transported? Hanged? His father was daft. Completely. The years of liquid grief had turned his mind into pudding.

      The Viscount rushed ahead, more at a run than William had ever seen him. William followed, knowing he didn’t want his father’s conversation carried to the servants’ quarters. His father stopped inside the parlour, whirling around. ‘You thankless piece of conceited tripe. You’ve gambled your name away and mine, too. Generations of our heritage. Destroyed. For ever. By you. I thought you cared more for your sisters than this.’

      William put the hat over the globe of a cold lamp and propped the cane against the wall. ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘My sister—’ his father jabbed his own chest ‘—my sister, Emilia, came to me in tears. You are less than a son.’ He splayed his hands, fingers arched. He pulled in air through his teeth. ‘You called my bluff, only it was not bluff. I merely threatened to circumvent the inheritance laws. But I had no need. You were quite willing to take care of that yourself.’

      ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’ His voice grated on each word. ‘I only wished for the horses.’

      The Viscount whipped his head away from William and stared to the windows. ‘I cannot even bear the sight of you.’ His words raced. ‘I didn’t think you would perhaps jump to marry someone suitable, but I didn’t expect you to destroy our entire heritage.’

      ‘I’ve done no such thing.’

      His father waved his hands in the air. ‘You wanted to make sure no woman would consent to wed you. You abducted a woman in daylight, in front of as many witnesses as you could find.’

      ‘Abducted? Are you foxed?’ His voice rose. The man had lost his senses.

      ‘Do not try to turn this back at me.’ He rushed by William and to the windows. He stretched his arms at each side of the window, as if holding himself erect. His head dropped.

      ‘Your Aunt Emilia has even begged to say that you were with her to save you. But I have forbidden it. Besides, too many have seen you.’

      ‘The woman was attacked.’

      ‘Attacked? Of course she was attacked. It’s said you near dragged a reddish-haired woman screaming from a brothel.’

      ‘No.’ William’s throat clenched. ‘No.’

      ‘Why am I not surprised? I have heard. Always I have heard. I have heard of the night you were foxed and fought the Duke of Wakefield’s brother. I have heard of your gambling. But I never thought you to be so low as what transpired last night.’

      The Viscount put closed fists over his eyes. ‘My son,’ he gasped out the words. He pulled his fists away, eyes reddened. ‘I caused this. I caused it.’ His voice cracked, then gained momentum. ‘But I can correct it. You will vacate the premises by the end of a fortnight. I suppose sleep in your new carriage. I do not wish to see you again.’ His lips trembled. His voice had the same fury as when he had told William to take the ring from Will’s mother’s finger on the last night of her life.

      The jewellry had slipped easily from her finger and he’d felt as if he had stolen her last breath.

      Pushing the memories aside, William turned so he would not see his father’s face. The same vice clenched him that had surrounded him so many times before, only this time, he had to use all his might to push it away so he could speak. ‘What happened?’

      ‘Tonight,’ the older man said, ‘I have lost my only son. I could not sup with someone such as you.’ He stepped around William, pulling his hat from the shade and grasping the cane.

      William turned. ‘Father. What is going on?’

      The Viscount took his hat, and clenched the cane. ‘I must blame myself, William. But it does not change a thing. I shouldn’t have mourned your mother so long. I should have opened my eyes before it was too late. But it is now too late.’

      He stepped forward, but lowered the walking stick. ‘Oh, you showed me. You really did. But I will not ignore such behaviour. No longer. This was beyond the pale. Even for you.’

      William squinted at his father. ‘The woman is safe at Sophia’s house. I took her from Wren’s, but she wished for me to.’

      ‘Sophia?’ His father started. ‘What does she know of this?’ His fists clenched. ‘I could pay the hangman myself for you attacking an innocent woman.’ He stepped back. ‘Your sisters. Think of your sisters.’ He dipped his head. The room was silent. ‘This will reach their ears. They’ll be humiliated.’

      Attacking an innocent? His father believed William attacked Isabel? The vice gripped again.

      ‘The whole town will hear of it.’ His father’s voice ended on a high shriek. ‘Apparently the talk of your—behaviour became the centre of the dinner. Your aunt was mortified. The whispers have already started and will become shouts. She came to me in tears. She found Sylvester and he agreed that you dragged a woman from Wren’s. He said he was so shocked he didn’t think to chase you and rescue her until after you had spirited her away in your carriage.’

      ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

      ‘All the men saw you leave carrying a woman of quality from Wren’s. A copper-haired woman with a bruised cheek. The men at cards heard her scream. Saw her in tatters. Blood on her sleeve. You forcing her out the door and into the carriage. Leaving a knife behind. It is thought her body was tossed into the Thames.

      ‘Oh...’ William stepped back, reaching a hand to the wall, steadying himself. ‘No. No. It is not that. I didn’t—’

      This... This would destroy his sisters.

      ‘You will never step foot in my house again. You will distance yourself from your sisters for their sake. I hope you care enough for them for that.’ His father’s eyes twitched.

      Events of the night before careened through William’s head. He’d done nothing wrong, except perhaps in letting Wren escape a magistrate, but he’d not wanted any notice of the night.

      Now his name would be destroyed. The tales of his past weren’t enough to grieve his sisters, but with this added, everything would be embellished. The tarnish would never be cleansed.

      William took in a breath. ‘Father.’ He laughed, but could barely manage the sound. ‘That is so absurd.’ He waved a hand. ‘She was to meet me, but was early and confused at her direction. When she was alighting