Filed To Story: Alessia Mistaken as Mistress Book PDF Free
Perspiration trickled down his back beneath the shirt and jacket. He swiped an impatient hand across his eyes. Who in the hell was Alessia Thornton?
Actually, much of this explanation made sense. When he thought back over her avoidance of speaking of Stephen, when he remembered her desperation to see the Pinkerton’s report, it made sense.
Yet so much didn’t.
How could he know for sure?
Immediately, the answer came to him.
“I’ll be out the rest of the afternoon,” he called on his way through the outer office.
He rented a horse at the livery and rode like hell toward home.
Celia and his mother were sitting in the shade on the verandah when he rode up.
“Nicholas!” his mother called. “You never come home early.”
“Pardon my appearance, Mother,” he said politely, referring to his windblown hair and the dust on his clothing, then turned abruptly to Celia.
“What do you know about this?” He shoved the letter under her nose.
“What is it?”
“A letter. From Alessia Thornton.”
She blanched and reached for her glass, only to realize it was lemonade and push it away.
“You know, and you’re going to tell me,” Nicholas insisted.
“Oh, my,” She waved a napkin to stir the air around her.
“Nicholas, what is this all about?”
He handed his mother the letter. “I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out. Do you recognize the handwriting?”
She studied the piece of paper. “It’s Claire’s.”
He turned back to Celia. “Start talking.”
“I-I don’t know-“
“Yes, you do. When did you find out your daughter wasn’t here?”
“After-after that night I tripped on the stairs. She came to my room and she told me.”
“Who came to your room?”
“Alessia.”
Alessia. “And what did she tell you?”
“That Claire had been killed in the train accident, and that everyone believed she was Claire.”
“And what did you do?”
“Why, I cried of course.”
“And after that?”
“And after that she said she’d see that I was taken care of as long as I stayed to myself and didn’t let on.”
Nicholas backed up to a marble bench and sat. He ran a hand though his hair in frustration and disbelief. “How did she think she could get away with it? How long did she think she could pull it off?”
Leda had read the letter in sections while listening to their exchange. “
She was not Claire?”
Celia shook her head.
His mother looked as stunned as Nicholas felt. “Then-then the baby…?” she voiced tentatively.
“Is not your grandson,” he finished for her. “She was never married to Stephen, never met him until that night on the train.”
“Then who fathered her baby?” Leda asked incredulously.
Celia shook her head. “Some young fellow who ran off on her. She waited as long as she could to tell her father and he kicked her out. She was making her way west when she met Claire and Stephen.”
“This is too preposterous,” Leda declared. “I can’t believe she lied to us all that time.”
“And you,” Nicholas said to Claire’s mother. “What did you have to gain by lying? You are Claire’s mother. We would have provided for you regardless.”
She shook her head. “She begged me. She seemed-I don’t know. I just went along with her.”
Nicholas knew precisely how impossible it had been to resist her. He’d been enamored with her from the first, and she’d used that advantage to steal from them and denigrate him.
Leda wept softly into her handkerchief. The sound angered Nicholas.
It was true. She wasn’t Claire. That was why she’d never fit into the expected role. She’d managed the servants, planned dinners and entertained guests, and handled it all with practiced ease. He’d known all along that her skills hadn’t reflected the upbringing of the woman he’d had investigated.
“Do you think she’s gone back to her father?” Leda asked.
Celia shook her head. “He disowned her. And he made it impossible for her to work in Boston.”
That phony Boston accent hadn’t been phony at all. She’d been raised well, brought up in society. Her father couldn’t have been all that bad. No doubt she’d been spoiled, and this time he hadn’t given in to her demands.
Maybe she’d planned to scare him into giving her her way, and had now run back home.
“What kind of father turns out his own child?” Leda asked.
Nicholas raised his head and gaped at his mother. “Are you sympathizing with her?”
“What choices did she have? Especially after she’d been in the accident and her leg was broken. Where could she have gone? How could she have cared for-for…” Tears filled her gray eyes. “Do you think she’ll still call him William?”
Her misery carved a hole in Nicholas’s chest. She’d been through enough, and now this! Anger quickly replaced the pain. “While you’re feeling sorry for her, don’t forget to mention how poor Alessia couldn’t have gotten by without your rings and necklace and my stickpin and watch.”
Celia looked at him in shock. “What?”
“Yes, the poor girl stole our jewelry before she left.”