Page 8 of The Highwayman's Bite

“I do.” Pride rang in his niece’s voice.

“Who taught you?” he asked, though he already suspected.

He watched the multitude of thoughts skitter across her face. First the temptation to lie, then resignation for the truth. “Madame Renarde.”

Oh yes, her companion. Yet another topic that must be addressed immediately. “Are you aware that Madame Renarde is really a Monsieur?”

Her eyes widened, not in surprise at the fact, but at his knowledge. “How did you know?”

“I have a good eye for seeing through deceptions.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Does your father know what your companion is hiding under those skirts?”

Vivian shook her head so violently that locks of her hair slapped her cheeks. “Please don’t tell him. I do not wish to lose my only friend.”

“If you can assure me that Renarde’s intentions are honorable, I may consider keeping your secret.” Aldric said grudgingly. Her talk of having no other friends also concerned him. “Though I must say, I do not countenance deception. Is this person truly from France?”

Vivian finished her wine with an unladylike gulp and took a deep breath to gather her courage. “Madame Renarde escaped during the revolution. There is no home for her in France any longer, so she is loyal to England and only wants to live out the rest of her days doing honest work.”

“Honest work?” Aldric snorted and refilled her glass. Though this... person was not an enemy of his country, he was still suspicious. The situation was so queer that he had trouble wrapping his head around it. “A man pretending to be a lady’s companion? Why do you insist on calling him ‘she?’”

“Because she has the heart and spirit of a woman,” Vivian said fiercely. “All her life, she felt that there was a mistake in her birth. When she first put on ladies’ clothing, she felt right.”

“And you believe... her?” He had trouble with the pronoun.

“Yes.” Vivian took another sip of her wine and leaned forward, her teeth bared in a sneer. “Women have no rights under the law. We are chattel, doomed to be imprisoned and manipulated by male whims. We have no recourse if a man wrongs us, as you are observing this moment with my presence here. We are subject to the most suffocating rules of how we are to behave. I cannot imagine a man willingly choosing such a life. So Madame Renarde must indeed be female in spirit to thrive in a woman’s lot in life.”

From her impassioned speech, it was clear that Vivian told the truth. Whether or not this Renarde was honest remained to be seen. Aldric sighed. “Very well, I shall keep quiet about the matter for now.”

Gratitude welled in her large grey eyes. “Thank you, Uncle.”

“We’ll talk more later. Let us see you and your companion settled in your rooms.” Aldric rose from his seat and escorted his niece back downstairs to the drawing room, where Renarde was sipping a cup of tea and warming herself by the nearby fire.

Immediately, the companion rose and curtsied. “My lord, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” If Renarde was aware of Aldric’s suspicions, ‘she’ did not let on.

“Madame Renarde,” Aldric said with a slight bow. The companion’s voice and body language were feminine indeed. If not for his preternatural senses, he may have been fooled as well. At least Renarde had been honest with Vivian... as far as he could discern.

Now he addressed both his niece and her companion. “Welcome to Thornton Manor. Although the house is isolated, I do hope you’ll find it to be cozy. I’m afraid my illness prevents me from being about much during the day, but the servants should see to your every need.”

Just like his previous descendants who’d visited him over the centuries, Vivian blinked at his declaration. However, he also detected a glimmer or relief in her eyes. From her talk of male tyranny, he wondered if her father was a cruel man.

Once settled beside his niece, Aldric poured her a cup of tea. “How was London? I haven’t been there in over a year, and I am eager for news.”

For the next hour, they spoke of the goings-on in Town, the balls, operas, weddings, children born, and the weather. Aldric studied Renarde, watching for signs of disingenuousness, yet all he could discern was that this companion genuinely appeared to care for Vivian. And that may be sufficient for Aldric to refrain from telling Vivian’s father about Renarde’s secret.

Maybe.

When his guests were visibly concealing yawns of exhaustion from their journey, Aldric had the servants heat tubs of water for baths, and bade them good night.

He was tempted to ask more about their encounter with the highwayman, but decided it could wait. For now, it was enough that his niece had arrived safely.

Instead, he left the house to seek his meal for the night and ponder on this firebrand niece of his.

This one was as free-spirited as his sister had been. From the scandal Vivian caused and her unconventional friendship with her companion, Aldric suspected that she’d cause a fair bout of mischief before she left his home.

All the more reason to ensure she did not remain here long. Although he did enjoy providing a haven for his mortal family from time to time, he could not risk having his own secrets discovered.

The scandal about her attempted duel was far more serious than he’d anticipated. Very few gentlemen would countenance having such a willful, rebellious wife. Furthermore, she was untitled, and her dowry would have been nonexistent had he not contributed a generous sum. Still, the pot would need to be sweetened further.

Perhaps if he deeded her some land, a match with her would be more appealing to a worthy suitor. Aldric had properties throughout England as well as one in Spain and another in France as vampires had to move every half century or so before the local humans noticed they did not age. But he did not wish to part with those. He did hold mortgages to a few farms, however, and he was intending on foreclosing on the Berwyn land. The widow of the wastrel who’d tricked Aldric into loaning with no ability to repay had been putting forth a valiant, yet pitiful effort to pay Aldric off, but even a halfwit could see that there was no chance of her closing the debt in her lifetime.

Aldric sympathized with the woman, he truly did. As it was, he’d allowed her to give him her meager payments and care for her children, giving her time to find a new husband to perhaps take over the loan, or for her to give up and find some relatives to stay with or a situation in service.

And yet the stubborn wench clung to her failing farm and Aldric eventually lost patience and demanded full payment at months’ end. Then he would seize the farm. The fields, orchard, and buildings were in dreadful shape, but land was land. Perhaps it could go to Vivian as part of her dowry.

He rose from his desk and rubbed his temples, between providing for his wayward niece and dealing with the widow’s mortgage, he’d have no peace in the foreseeable future until both were resolved.

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