Romancing the Heiress(41)
Author: Darcy Burke

 

“I can’t believe my eyes,” Leah’s mother—Harriet, which Leah suddenly decided was how she’d think of the woman from now on—said coldly. “You look like a London trollop.”

 

Leah glanced down at her modest walking dress. “This isn’t what trollops wear.”

 

“You would know.” Harriet had started casting her in the role of a fallen woman sometime around the age of seventeen, despite there being no evidence to that fact. She’d said that if Leah wasn’t yet, she would be, that it was in her blood.

 

“I can’t say that I’ve ever met a prostitute. If you recall, I’ve spent the majority of my time since leaving here as companion to the wife of a baronet.”

 

“Can’t imagine why you bothered coming back where you aren’t welcome.” She’d said that to Leah when she’d left: “You think you’re lucky, but you’ll fail at this as you do everything else, and you’ll soon be scampering back here begging for a handout. You will not be welcome.”

 

“I’d hoped—” What had she hoped for? There was nothing Harriet could give her that she wanted. Even if the woman threw herself to the floor and begged Leah’s forgiveness, Leah didn’t think she could bring herself to care. In that moment, she knew what she needed to do in order to free herself from the torment of her past. It wasn’t about anything Harriet could do. It was entirely within Leah’s own power to heal. The family she wanted, the connection she wished for could be hers, if she could trust in herself and those around her, especially Phin.

 

Leah no longer wanted the weight of the past, of things she couldn’t change. “I’d hoped you might feel remorse, but I don’t need you to do that. I just want to be free. So, I forgive you for your treatment of me. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you to take in your husband’s bastard.”

 

Leah’s real mother had died in childbirth, and since Harriet still had milk from her last child—Rebecca—Leah’s father had convinced her to care for Leah. Then he’d somehow persuaded Harriet to allow Leah to stay in their household where she was part of their family, but not.

 

Harriet’s lip curled. “You dare think I want your grace?”

 

“No. It isn’t for you,” Leah added in a whisper.

 

“Leah, is that you?” Her father, Monty Webster, rushed through the reception room. He must have been in his study, which sat in the back corner of the house. His face brightened when he saw her. His hair had gone completely white, and he wore spectacles, which he whipped off his nose. “Let me look at you. What a beautiful woman you’ve become. That costume suits you.” He moved toward her, and she was afraid he was going to try to embrace her.

 

He must have seen her reaction—that she didn’t want him that close—and planted his feet firmly. “How wonderful that you’ve come, though I’m surprised since you didn’t respond to my letters.”

 

“You’ve been writing to her?” Harriet demanded.

 

Leah ignored the woman in favor of what her father had just said. “I never received any letters.”

 

His cheeks pinked. “I confess I only started writing them within the last year. I sent them to Lady Norcott’s address.”

 

“That must be why I didn’t see them. She died nearly a year ago.”

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He clasped his hands, his features creasing. “I was a coward, Leah. Afraid to stand up for you when you were under this roof and afraid to write to you after you left. I imagined you were happy and relieved to be away from here, and I didn’t want to disturb you. Or perhaps I thought I deserved to live with my guilt.”

 

“What about what I was living with?” Leah asked softly.

 

His lip quivered. “There is no apology great enough for what you are owed.” He forced a smile, sniffing. “I’m so glad you’ve come. Barnabas said he saw you in the botanical gardens, and I dared to hope.”

 

Harriet turned a wrath-filled stare on her husband. “You knew she was here?”

 

“As if you’d want to know,” her father replied with an acerbity she didn’t recall him having before. “Come and sit for a few minutes and tell us—me—of your adventures.” He moved back into the reception room and gestured for Leah to take one of the chairs.

 

Old habits, however, were hard to break, and Leah couldn’t quite bring herself to step into that sanctified space.

 

“She won’t stop you,” her father said, shooting a glare at Harriet. “I won’t let her.”

 

Now he wanted to protect her? What upside-down world had Leah stepped into? Looking skeptically toward Harriet, Leah gingerly moved into the reception room. She was almost surprised that she didn’t spontaneously combust.

 

Her father moved to the settee while Leah slowly made her way to a chair opposite him and perched on the edge, prepared to flee at any moment. “I won’t stay long. I need to get back to my charge.”

 

“Who is that?” her father asked.

 

“I’m companion to Lady Norcott’s great-niece now.” Leah didn’t like the way Harriet stood in the entry hall glowering at them. Couldn’t she just go back to the kitchen or, better yet, the fires of hell?

 

“Good for you,” Monty said with…pride?

 

Leah tried to ignore the sudden flash of joy. She’d only ever wanted someone to make her feel special. Loved. That he’d written to her gave her a rush of happiness she never would have expected. She wondered what had happened to those letters. Surely, they would have been forwarded to her at the Selkirks?

 

“Why are you still working as a companion with all the money you have?” Harriet asked.

 

This ridiculous question prompted Leah to turn toward the entrance hall. “What money? I earn a modest salary.” Less than when she’d worked for Lady Norcott. Perhaps Harriet thought Leah had more means due to the quality of her clothing, thanks to Lady Norcott’s generosity.

 

“You inherited a fortune from Lady Norcott.” Harriet sneered. “Of course you’d pretend not to have, so as to hide it from us—the people who took care of you when no one else would.”

 

Leah rose, her legs a little unsteady. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She left me two months’ salary and her five dearest books.”

 

Harriet scoffed as she marched to a small writing desk in the corner of the reception room. She opened a drawer and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, then went to Leah and shoved it at her. “You can stop lying.”