Julie Garwood: Prince Charming

"I do realize it. Madam."

A moment of silence followed Taylor's acknowledgment. Then Lady Esther changed the topic again. "I wouldn't let you tell me why your sister was so desperate to leave England. I'll admit to you now it was because I feared what I would hear. My son was the reason Marian left, wasn't he? What did Malcolm do to her? I'm prepared to listen, Taylor. You may tell me now if you're so inclined."

Taylor's stomach immediately tightened into a knot. She took a deep breath before answering. "I'm not so inclined, Madam. It all happened such a long time ago."

"You're still afraid, aren't you? Even the mention makes your voice tremble."

"No, I'm not afraid any longer."

"I gave you my complete trust and helped Marian and that worthless husband of hers leave, didn't I?"

"Yes, Madam."

"It was difficult for me, knowing I would never see them again. I certainly didn't trust Marian's judgment. Look at the man she married. George was only slightly better than a street beggar. He certainly didn't love her. He latched onto her for her money. She wouldn't listen to reason though, would she? I disowned the both of them. It was a spiteful thing to do. I realize that now."

"George wasn't worthless, Madam. He just didn't have a head for business. He might have only married my sister for her money, but he stayed with her after you took her inheritance back. I think he learned to love her, if only just a little. He was always good and kind to her. And from all the letters he sent us, I also believe he was a wonderful father."

Lady Esther nodded. "Yes, I, too, believe he was a good father," she admitted grudgingly. "It was you who convinced me to give them some money so they could leave England. I did the right thing, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did the right thing."

"Did Marian want to tell me what happened? Dear God, she's been dead eighteen months and I'm only just now able to ask you that question."

"Marian wouldn't have told you," Taylor insisted, her voice urgent now.

"But she confided in you, didn't she?"

"Yes, but only because she wanted to protect me."

Taylor paused to take another breath in an attempt to hold onto her composure. The topic was so distressing, her hands started shaking. She didn't want her grandmother to know how upset she was. She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice when she spoke again. "You showed your love for her by protecting her without demanding reasons. You helped her leave. She and George were happy in Boston, and I'm certain Marian died at peace."

"If I ordered you to bring her daughters home to England now, would they be safe?"

"No." Her answer was quick, forceful. She softened her tone when she added, "The little girls should be raised in their father's country. It is what George and Marian both wanted." And not under Malcolm's guardianship, Taylor silently added.

"Do you believe the cholera has taken the babies as well? We would have heard by now, wouldn't we?"

"Yes, we would have heard. They're healthy and well," she said. She made her voice as emphatic as possible and said a quick prayer that she was right. The babies' nanny, Mrs. Bartlesmith, had written with the tragic news. She hadn't been at all certain cholera had killed George, and since the physician refused to expose himself to the possibility of catching the disease by coming to the house after George had died, no one could be sure. The nanny kept the babies away from their father while he was so ill. She protected them as best she could. God had already taken Marian, and now George, and He wouldn't be so unmerciful as to take the two-year-olds as well. It was too upsetting to even consider.

"I trust you, Taylor." Madam's voice was weary now.

"Thank you, Madam."

"Did I protect you growing up?"

"Oh, yes," Taylor cried out. "All these many years you've protected me."

Several minutes passed in silence. Then Lady Esther said, "Are you prepared to leave England?"

"I am."

"Boston is a world away from us. Tell the babies kind stories about me, even if you have to make them up. I wish to be remembered fondly."

"Yes, Madam."

Taylor tried desperately not to cry. She stared at her hands and took several deep breaths.

Lady Esther didn't seem to notice her granddaughter's distress. She went into detail once again about the money she had had transferred to the bank in Boston. Her voice was weak with fatigue by the time she finished her instructions.

"As soon as Sir Elliott returns, he'll announce I've had yet another miraculous recovery. He may be an imbecile but he knows who is buttering his bread. You'll attend the ball tonight and act as though everything is as right as ever. You will laugh. You will smile. You will celebrate my good health. You will stay until the chimes strike the midnight hour. No one must know you're leaving at first light. No one."

"But, Madam, now that you're so ill, I had thought to stay here with you."

"You'll do no such thing," her grandmother snapped. "You must be away from England before I die. My brother, Andrew, will keep me company. I won't be alone. Malcolm and the others will be told that you've gone after you've set sail. Agree with me, Taylor. It's your duty to make this old woman die content."

"Yes, Madam." Her voice caught on a sob.

"Are you weeping?"

"No, Madam."

"I cannot abide tears."

"Yes, Madam."

Her grandmother sighed with satisfaction. "I went to a great deal of trouble to find the right one. You do know that, don't you, Taylor?" she asked. "Of course you do. Now then, there is just one more document to sign and witness. One last ceremony for me to see through. Then I'll be at peace."

"I do not wish for you to die, Madam."

"One doesn't always get what one wishes, young lady. Remember that."

"Yes, Madam."

"Tell Thomas to fetch the guests he's hidden away in the parlor. Then come and stand next to me. I want to watch you sign the paper before I witness it."

Taylor stood up. "You will not change your mind about this?"

"I will not," her grandmother answered. "Will you change yours?"

The challenge was there in her clipped, no-nonsense tone of voice. Taylor managed a smile. "No, I will not change my mind," she answered just as forcefully.

"Then hurry up, Taylor. Time's wasting away, and time, you see, is my enemy."

Taylor started for the door connecting the bedroom to the adjacent parlor. She was halfway across the chamber when she suddenly stopped. "Madam?"

"What is it?"

"Before Thomas brings the others inside… we won't be alone again and I… may I…"

She didn't say more. She didn't need to. Her grandmother understood what she was asking.

A loud sigh filled the chamber. "If you must," her grandmother grumbled.

"Thank you."

"Get it said, Taylor."

"Very well," she agreed. "I love you, Madam, with all my heart."

He couldn't believe he'd done it. Damn it all, he almost hadn't been able to pull it off. He shook his head in disgust. What kind of man would demand one brother buy another brother's freedom? A real bastard, that's who, he thought to himself… a real son of a…

Lucas Michael Ross forced the raging thoughts aside. What was done was done. The boy was free now and ready to start a new life. That was all that mattered. The son-of-a-bitch heir to the family fortune would eventually get his reward. As far as Lucas was concerned, his older half brother could rot or thrive in England for all he cared.

His anger wouldn't go away. Lucas leaned against the pillar near the alcove in the majestic ballroom and watched the couples twirling around the marble floor in front of him. He was flanked on both sides by his brothers' friends, Morris and Hampton. They both held titles, but Lucas couldn't remember what they were. The two men were in the middle of a heated debate on the merits versus the perils of capitalism in