Teresa Medeiros - Once An Angel

one word over and over. Claire, They pelted out of the dunes, surrounding her. She sank to her knees, wrapping Dani's warm little body in her arms. She pressed her eyes shut, imagining how it would have

felt to hold the child she would never have. She could almost see him-his silky dark hair falling in his eyes as he bent over the piano.

She opened her eyes. Trini helped her to her feet, his tattooed brow furrowed in a frown. "How will

you go from here? You have no money, no means."

Her eyes burned with a fierce light. "Oh, yes, I do. Gold brought me here, and gold will take me away."

A yelp of dismay escaped him as she held the watch aloft and twisted, shattering the last chain that

bound her to Justin Connor.

London

Amelia Winters flinched as the thunderous crash of a door and shouting masculine voices shattered the quiet of her domain. Her fingers tightened into claws on the win-dowsill. Outside, sleet skittered from

the pewter sky, coating the tiny garden within the walled courtyard in a shiny layer of ice. Amelia stared absently at the dormant rosebushes. They needed to be pruned. She'd been forced to let the gardener

go with a tidy sum after he'd threatened to summon the constable when the Scarborough girl had stabbed his son.

The door behind her creaked open. Timid feet shuffled on the worn carpet. "His Grace, the Duke of Winthrop, to see you, ma'am."

"Show him in."

"Aye, mum."

Amelia smiled bitterly. Doreen always slipped back into cockney in moments of travail. It was a habit Amelia had bred out of herself after she had clawed her own way out of a rookery crib to found this school.

Heavy footsteps shuddered the floorboards. They might have been the footsteps of her executioner. London had been abuzz with the young duke's return for over a week, and now she knew her brief reprieve was done.

The door slammed into the wall. Cold air from the foyer buffeted her. Amelia steeled her spine and swung around, somewhat relieved to finally come face-to-face with her most dreaded nightmare.

Her relief was short-lived. A man stood in the doorway, tall, gaunt, but undeniably striking. Drops of melted sleet beaded the cape of his greatcoat. He was scandalously hatless, and his eyes burned like

twin flames beneath a sweeping fall of dark hair. His clenched jaw was shaded not with a proper beard, but by the stubble of a savage. She had heard rumors that he'd been living with cannibals for the past seven years. He looked more than eager to devour her frail bones.

His sheer masculine presence dwarfed the shabby parlor. The room seemed suddenly full of people. Doreen hovered at the door, her homely face more pinched and pale than usual. Barney stood behind their callers, eyeing them with ill-disguised hostility. The slender stranger at the duke's elbow tipped his bowler to her, his face a bland, affable mask that did not fool Amelia for an instant.

The duke moved toward her, his greatcoat swirling around his boots. She realized that despite the silver threads at his temples and the sun-etched lines around his eyes, Justin Connor was younger than she had expected. Much younger. And far more dangerous. She clutched at the high collar of her blouse.

"I have come for my ward," he announced, giving her a bow so brief as to be an insult. A volatile muscle twitched in his cheek. "Your Miss Dobbins has tried to tell me that she is not in residence at this school."

A sharp cough failed to unravel the knot in Amelia's throat. She was terrified his knowing eyes would burn away the layers of her deceit, exposing the ugly truth for him to see. "I fear she is correct."

"Then I demand an explanation. My partner David Scarborough left his only child, Claire, in your care seven years ago. I have written record of it."

"As do I. But as my staff tried to tell you, she is no longer here."

Justin raked a hand through his hair, thankful for Bentley Chalmers's unruffled presence at his elbow. This woman's cryptic explanations were maddening him to distraction. He had wasted a week working

up the courage to come to this place. A week in which his old insomnia had returned with a vengeance.

A week of driving past the school in his luxurious carriage, wondering which of the lighted windows

might be Claire's. He had risked everything to come here. Even Emily.

A maid carrying a bucket of coal slipped into the parlor. Justin sighed, summoning his last ounce of self-control. "Then would you mind telling me where I might find Claire Scarborough?"

Was it a reflection of the fire, or did he see a flicker of malicious satisfaction in the old woman's eyes?

"I haven't the faintest idea where the girl is. She ran away months ago."

Blood roared through Justin's ears. The room went dark, then red. Then he was moving forward, only dimly aware of hands tugging at him and a woman's terrified keening.

"Your Grace!" It was Chalmers's imperturbable voice, shaken to near hysteria, that finally reached him.

The room slowly lightened. Chalmers held his arm while the sullen lad with the big ears clung to his leg. Justin shook the boy off like a mongrel pup. The young teacher had pressed a handkerchief to her mouth to muffle a scream, her complexion as chalky as her mistress's. The maid was a vague white shape, open-mouthed and wide-eyed at the hearth.

Only Amelia Winters stood unmoving, almost as if she expected his blow, even welcomed it. Stricken to his soul, Justin lowered his arm.

Wringing her hands, the old woman began to babble. "I did everything in my power, but the child was always headstrong and wicked. I could not control her. I tried to guide her by the Christian principles of discipline and self-restraint, but she remained unrepentant and hopelessly ill behaved."

Justin gripped the spine of a rosewood armchair, sickened by how close he had come to striking this woman. He bowed his head. He was too late. The child was gone. He had come this close only to lose her, perhaps forever. His own cowardice had cost him the girl. What right did he have to berate this pathetic old woman?

Her voice soared on a note of hysteria. "Even with my limited means I gave her the best care and education I could afford. Why, I treated her like my very own child!"

"She's lying!"

The words burst out like a breath of wind in the stale air of the parlor. Justin jerked his head up. The

coal bucket clattered to the hearth in a cloud of ashes. The young maid marched toward him, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Shut yer trap, Tansy, or I'll shut it for ya," the boy snarled, starting for her.

With one smooth motion Justin grabbed Chalmers's cane and slammed it down across a table, neatly blocking the boy's path. He ducked his head and shot Justin a glare of pure hatred.

Even in his agitation Justin couldn't help but notice how startlingly pretty the maid was. Silky tendrils of black hair escaped her drooping mobcap. Her drab, stained apron couldn't hide the bold curves beneath the limp ruffles.

Her brilliant blue eyes brimmed with angry tears. "The old witch is lyin'. She treated the girl like a bloody

slave. Made 'er 'aul coal and work in the kitchens dawn to dusk. Made 'er teach the little ones so she wouldn't 'ave to pay no one else to do it. Fed er scraps just like she does me. Always throwin' it up in

'er proud little face she'd be on the streets fendin' fer 'erself if it weren't fer Miss Amelia Winters's

bloody Christian charity."

She grabbed his hand, painting streaks of coal dust between his fingers. "The girl weren't wicked, sir. I swear she weren't. High-spirited maybe, but not truly wicked." She nodded toward Barney and Doreen. "Not like them there. Why, before 'er da died, she was a regular angel, and even after that she was the best mate I ever 'ad."

A fresh pain jolted Justin's heart. The girl tried to withdraw her hand as if shamed by her own boldness, but he held it fast. She gazed up at him, awestruck. She must have known so little kindness in her short life, he thought, but was kind enough herself to befriend an orphaned child.

"Did she leave any clue as to where she might be going?" he asked. "A letter? A note? Anything?"

The maid ducked her head. "I couldn't 'ave read it if she 'ad. She just up and disappeared one night

when the wind was 'owling 'round the attic." Her accusing gaze flicked to Doreen. "About the same

time those two-"

"Tansy!" Barney barked.

Justin thought he might have seen a flash of genuine fear in the girl's eyes. "Show me where she slept,"

he said gently but firmly. He was determined to find some clue as to why the maid's confession was making them all fidget.

"Take one step, Tansy, and you'll be dismissed." The headmistress's voice rang out like a steel bell, then softened to a wheedling tone. "Just think of all I've done for you."

The girl wavered for only an instant before lifting her round little chin in proud defiance. "I am, Miss Winters. By gawd, I am."

With a regal swish of her stained skirt she gestured for Justin to follow. Chalmers took two steps, but Justin stayed him with his hand. There were some things he would have to do alone.

He followed Tansy up the stairs, making rapid mental notes to stave off his panic. The carpet was faded, its floral pattern worn bare in the center of each tread. Several of the balusters were cracked, and only

the newel post at the bottom of the stairs showed signs of being replaced in recent years. As they reached the upper landing, the patter of feet was followed by the slamming of a door. The sound echoed as if there were very few warm little bodies to absorb it.

Tansy took a candle from a hall table and led him to a rough-hewn door. Justin's dread swelled. As she opened the door, the flame quivered in a blast of cold wind. Narrow steps wound into utter darkness. He hesitated, knowing he did not want to see what awaited him. But the thought of Emily gave him courage. She would have charged headlong up those steps, banishing every shadow with her unrelenting light.

Wiping his clammy palms on his trousers, he started after Tansy. Chill, heavy air bore down on him. Before he was halfway up, his breath was billowing out in frigid clouds.

They reached a shadowy landing. Tansy pointed to a door. "That there is my room."

He understood her gentle prodding. There was only one other door.

He reached for it, his hand shaking. The battered knob felt like ice. He turned it and pushed, half hoping

it would be locked. The door creaked open. Tansy hung back as if reluctant to finish what she'd started.

As Justin saw where Claire Scarborough's weary steps had led her each night, something inside of him curled up and died. It would have broken David's heart to know his daughter had come to this.

The room was cramped, barely more than a closet tucked beneath the attic beams. As he ducked beneath the lintel, cobwebs brushed his hair.

A grimy window let in a thin sliver of winter light. Beyond the pigeons cooing on the sill he could see an endless ocean of chimneys and roofs, all dulled by a miasma of soot. A narrow bed sat in one corner,

still rumpled as if someone had just climbed out of it. He ran his hand over the lumpy tick, knowing it madness to wish it might still be warm. He sat down on it, dropping his head into his hands.