Page 36 of Hold Me Fast
Tammie’s envy of Bran’s relationship with Jowan grew by the day, and embarrassed her mightily, for she had no right to feel Jowan was her property.
It would be worse in Cornwall, because Jowan had a place there, and so did Bran. Tammie did not have a place anywhere. On the stage, perhaps. But she could not risk returning to London. Guy would have her back under his control again before her bag was unpacked.
“What will I do in Cornwall?” she wondered.
“Rest and recover,” Jowan ordained.
“At your expense?” she asked, the weight of all he had done for her suddenly presenting itself. “I have no money,” she realized. “No way to support myself. Not in Cornwall. I cannot even begin to pay for what you have done already.” Not that he would demand payment. Jowan was not like that. But, if she understood some of the conversations she had overheard, the baronetcy had been left in a parlous state. Jowan had mended things, but he was not wealthy.
His response was to be expected. “You owe me nothing, Tammie. I was glad to help an old friend.”
“What of your earnings from your concerts?” Bran asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Has it all been spent?”
“Bran!” Jowan warned. “It is not our business.”
“It is a fair question,” Tammie said. “But I do not know the answer, Bran. Guy handled my bookings, my contracts, any expenses, and any payments made. I was never asked to pay for anything, and I was never given money. Oh, but I have jewelry. I forgot! I sewed some pieces into the hem of the skirt of my riding habit. How could I have forgotten? We can sell it, and I can at least pay whatever you are charging, Evangeline. And perhaps have enough that I will not be a charge on you, Jowan.”
“Your skirt may be hanging in your room,” Evangeline suggested. “You were wearing it when you arrived here, so we will be able to find it.”
She stood as if to look straightaway, and Tammie rose, too. “You will let me pay my way, Jowan, will you not?”
“You have your inheritance from your mother, too,” Jowan told her. “You have her cottage and her savings. I instructed the lawyer to invest the savings for you and to rent the cottage until we could ask you what to do with them, so I expect you have a tidy bit there.”
That news stopped Tammie in her tracks. “I have a cottage?” She and Mother had lived at Inneford House when she was last in Cornwall. Mother kept the house and warmed Sir Carlyon’s bed.
Jowan merely nodded. “Go and check for your jewels. But you need have no worries about supporting yourself, Tammie. You are a woman of property, if not substance.”
But not a woman with a future, Tammie mused, as she followed Evangeline upstairs.Or, at least, not a future I can work towards. I need a goal. I need some reason to keep breathing and to keep away from my personal demons.
Chapter Fourteen
Their goal onthe fifth day from Ealing was Exeter or perhaps a little beyond. When they stopped for their midday break, Jowan figured they were making good time, so they could linger for a while here, or get a bit closer to home later in the day.
Bran had something other than their progress on his mind. He and Jowan went for a walk to stretch their legs and were heading back to the inn where Tamsyn was resting and Evangeline was watching over her.
“She has been another man’s mistress, Jowan. Hell, from what I heard while she was ill, she has been little better than whore to Coombe’s pimp,” he said.
He put up his hands and stepped back at Jowan’s expression. “I wouldn’t repeat it to anyone else, but I’ve always told you the truth, and I’m not about to change now.”
Jowan had always believed that when he met Tamsyn again, the spark would be there, or it wouldn’t. They would either pick up where they left off, or they would see nothing was left to pick up and go on with their lives. In fact, after seven years of silence, he was fully expecting to find that Tamsyn was not the girl he remembered.
He had been right. She was not, and part of the reason was the experiences she had been through. But the spark was still there, fanned to flames as he got to know her again over the week of her convalescence and the days of travel on their way to Cornwall. Bran didn’t understand.
“Then tell me this,” Jowan said. “In her situation, as a sixteen-year-old girl in the hands of a man with no conscience, would you have done better? Remember, she knew her mother had sold her, and that my father would simply return her to Coombe if she turned up on our doorstep. She had no money and no friends. Even I, as far as she knew, had abandoned her. What would you have done?”
Bran opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. After a moment, he said, “Fair point. But I don’t see why you still want her, for all of that. I accept it wasn’t her fault, but she is used goods, Jowan.” He frowned. “It wouldn’t be fair to take her as a mistress, at least not yet. She is too vulnerable. But you cannot be thinking of marriage.”
Jowan was thinking about punching his brother. “First, never call Tamsyn ‘used goods’. Not ever again, or I’ll punch you through to next week. Don’t even think it. That’s a horrible thing to think about a human being. Used goods, as if she is yesterday’s tea leaves. She’s not someone’s property that they’re tired of, any more than your mother was.”
That was a low blow. Bran’s mother had died when he was a baby, but those who raised him, apart from his beloved grandmother who died a week before Bran turned up on the doorstep at Inneford House, never tired of reminding him about her disgrace. He reddened at the comparison but said nothing.
“Second, I’m not thinking of marriage. Or, at least, not yet. I’m not thinking of anything. As you say, she is vulnerable. She needs to live a little, get used to how life is without the poppy or the brew. Find out what she wants from life. I mean to help her if I can and stay out of her way otherwise. Do I have hopes for the future? I won’t lie to you, Bran. I can’t help but wonder if we might mean more to one another in time than we do or can now. If that happens, I would hope my brother would be happy for me.” In its way, that was a lie, for he glimpsed what their love could be. He yearned for a future with Tamsyn as his wife and would do whatever he could to make it happen. Whatever he could without spooking her.
Bran didn’t respond as Jowan hoped. “Evangeline says, the chances are she will go back on the opium or at least start drinking heavily again. She was clearly a lush, and we know how hard it is for them to stay sober.”
“We shall see,” Jowan said. “I think she means what she says. I think she has the courage and the determination to keep sober. If she doesn’t…” he shrugged. “We’ll deal with that if it happens. Bran, don’t tear her down. That’s all I’m asking.”
“My uncle drank,” Bran told him. “My grandfather, too. Neither of them ever managed to give it up. I don’t trust her, Jowan. But I won’t tell her or anyone else. As for being happy for you, I guess we will have to deal with that when it happens, too.”
