A Regency Christmas Pact Collection (31 page)

“Mr. Findley,” she said, not in the “greeting” sort of way, but in an
oh, dear, what the devil are you doing here
sort of way.

“Mrs. Edwards,” he replied, attempting to keep his wits about him. “I hadn’t realized you…owned a sweet shop.” Rowan gestured around the store.

“Oh, I don’t.” She reached up to smooth her hair, clearly forgetting it was hidden entirely under a handkerchief. “I, erm…I just work here. Can I help you pick something out?”

Rowan drew his gaze away from her soft, pink lips, back to the other confections that surrounded him. He wished she weren’t so embarrassed—there was no shame in earning one’s keep, no matter what the
ton
said. “Oh, yes, of course. Thank you. A gift for my cousin, actually. I suppose she frequents this place? Perhaps you know better what she likes than I do.”

Mrs. Edwards smiled a little too brightly and bounded across the room to a display of sugared fruits. “She loves just about all of these,” she said. “Shall I prepare an assortment?”

Rowan nodded. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

Damn, this was ridiculous. He wanted to talk to her plainly. Yet here he stood, like an idiot, unable to speak about anything other than blasted sweetmeats. And surely it was for the best. She had a husband, after all.

“I’m sorry Mr. Edwards wasn’t able to attend the party last night,” he blurted out, unable to help himself.

Mrs. Edwards’s eyes grew round and her mouth formed the shape of an O. “Yes, um…so was he. Sorry, that is, that he couldn’t be there. He is…away on business.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes at her. There was something odd in her behavior. Was she lying about something? Was her husband really a drunk who couldn’t be bothered with respectable folk? Did he beat her and yell at her? Did he keep a mistress? Rowan’s pulse sped just thinking about the good-for-nothing blackguard.

“Mr. Findley?”

Rowan snapped his head up and realized he’d balled his hands into tight fists at his sides. “I beg your pardon?”

A smile crossed Mrs. Edwards’s face and he remembered again the night they’d met. It was that smile that had dazzled him, drawn him to her. Well, that and her fiery red hair. He’d just known she’d be a passionate lover, and she had not disappointed.

“Will there be anything else today?”

Olivia waited for him to say something, and while she waited, she attempted to calm herself. Lord, if her heart kept this pace, she’d surely have an apoplexy. But she’d never expected him to stroll into the shop, not today, not ever. Of course, it had crossed her mind last night after learning he was in town for a while, but perhaps wishful thinking had kept her in denial that this moment might actually come to pass.

“No, I think that will be all for today,” Rowan replied.

There was silence for a few moments while Olivia logged the purchase and collected the money due. She prayed he didn’t notice her shaking hands or her belabored breath. Having him so near set her on edge. Of course, the monumental secret she was keeping from him would probably have anyone on edge.

“Am I to understand you have a son?”

Olivia’s head snapped up to meet Rowan’s eyes. Her heart thumped so loudly, surely he could hear it. What on earth would prompt him to ask such a question?

“I beg your pardon?” she finally managed, mostly to buy time, but he must have thought her daft since the shop was quiet and he’d spoken very clearly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t meant to pry,” he said, looking a bit sheepish. “My cousin mentioned someone—Marcus?—last night, and—”

“Yes,” Olivia blurted out. “I do. Marcus is my son.” She waited and prayed fervently that he wouldn’t ask her son’s age.

Rowan nodded. The air had turned uncomfortable for both of them. Not that it was comfortable before, but this was worse. Much worse.

“Well, I look forward to meeting him.”

Olivia tried to smile, but her jaw was clenched so tightly, she was certain she looked like a rabid animal about to foam at the mouth.

At last, Rowan tipped his hat to her, bid her good day and walked out the door. Good heavens. Olivia wasn’t sure she could stand another week of having him in this town.

The day of the sleigh ride arrived, much to Olivia’s chagrin. She had hoped that perhaps the good Lord would smile down from heaven and let her skip this day altogether. Of course, she was being silly, but it didn’t stop her from turning over in bed and burying her head under her pillow.

“Mama! Mama!”

Marcus jumped onto the bed and threw himself over her. Olivia smiled, despite the fact she didn’t really want to get out of bed yet. Or ever.

“It’s the day of the sleigh ride!”

“Yes, my darling. I know it is.” She attempted to sit up but Marcus smothered her in a hug and she fell back to the pillow again with a laugh. “If you don’t let me get up and get dressed, we won’t be able to go.”

That sent Marcus scurrying from the bed, and Olivia followed. The floor was like ice to her warm feet, and she ran to the hearth to start a fire in the grate.

“Did Papa like sleigh rides?” Marcus asked as he joined her and tossed a wooden log into the fireplace.

Olivia’s heart constricted, as it always did when Marcus spoke of his father. Jack had been a good man, and he’d showered more love and affection on Olivia than she deserved. He saved her from shame—married her, uncaring that she carried another man’s child in her belly.

“Yes,” she replied, attempting to keep her emotions from being obvious. “I suppose he did, though I can’t remember a time when we enjoyed one together.”

A wide smile spread across Marcus’s lips. “Then I’m certain I shall like them too.”

Olivia gave him a half smile. Would she ever be able to tell him the truth? And when? If she waited until he was older, would he hate her for holding the secret for so long? And if she told him now, would she taint the vague memories he had of Jack? For all intents and purposes, Jack was Marcus’s father. He was there the day he was born, held him when he cried in the wee hours of the morning, picked him up the first time he fell and skinned his knee. Wasn’t that what made a father?

Her thoughts turned to Rowan. To his dashing good looks and charming personality. He couldn’t have been more different from Jack if he tried. Two men from two different worlds, somehow sharing the title of Father to the same child.

It was baffling—at least to Olivia.

“Get yourself dressed, Marcus,” she said, shaking her head free of the confusing thoughts as she stood from her position beside the fire. “I’ll prepare us something to break the fast.”

“Yes, Mama.”

The sleigh ride was to take place at Hamlin Abbey, followed by an afternoon feast and Lady Swaffham’s famous parlor games. As Olivia trudged through the snow with Marcus at her side, she fought valiantly against her nerves. Of course, she wasn’t winning in the slightest. There was too much about Rowan Findley that set her on edge. First, there were his aforementioned good looks and charming personality. Furthermore, it had been years since she’d been with a man—or even
thought
about a man, for that matter. Seeing him again reminded her of that passionate night in the stable. She remembered it like it was yesterday.

Her parents, being landed gentry, were invited to all the important social events and had very high hopes for Olivia to marry into a peerage. They were well-meaning, she was willing to admit that now. But back then, seven years ago, they were stifling. Olivia had felt smothered. They kept her under lock and key, watched her every move, and dictated how she was to behave. All Olivia wanted was a little freedom—a little room to be herself.

Rowan was like her knight on a white charger. He’d asked her to dance and, despite her mother’s tight-lipped acquiescence at her dancing with a tradesman, she accepted. Olivia remembered well the reckless feeling she’d had being in his arms. His firm hand at her back, his devastating smile before her. Even now she felt giddy just thinking about it.

It was she who’d made the scandalous proposition that he take her out to the stables and have his way with her. Olivia stifled a giggle remembering the look on his face. She’d had to beg quite a bit, but she knew her qualities. She knew she had a lovely figure and a pretty face—his resolve didn’t stand a chance.

“Mama, look!”

Olivia snapped back to the present and looked to where Marcus pointed. Goodness, they were here already? She’d been so lost in her memories, she’d not realized how far they’d come.

In the distance stood Hamlin Abbey, the town’s largest and most impressive estate. In the drive were three horse-drawn sleighs. The other party-goers stood by as Lady Swaffham pointed to each sleigh, clearly making seating assignments.

And there was Rowan. His tall frame towered over the others, and Olivia’s heart stopped beating for a moment.

Please don’t let us be in the same sleigh.

Olivia reached down and grabbed Marcus by the hand. Despite his independence, he didn’t squirm away. Perhaps he sensed her apprehension.

“Shall we?” she asked, forcing a smile.

He pulled on her hand, jerking her forward and forcing her into a half run. Her feet slid on patches of snow, and she nearly fell to her face more than once.

“Marcus, slow down!” she cried, attempting to pull him back. “They won’t leave without us.”

But Marcus, being so caught up in the excitement, ignored her pleas. And just as they neared the drive, her foot hit a small patch of ice. Her legs slid out from under her, and she landed flat on her backside in the softened earth.

“Mama, are you all right?” Marcus was at her side in a moment, dirtying the knees of his pants in the mud.

“Marcus, don’t,” Olivia said, trying to keep her voice low. “You’ll ruin your clothes.”

He ignored her. “Are you hurt?”

Footsteps drew her gaze upward. Rowan loomed closer, his brow furrowed in concern. Olivia felt nothing but utter humiliation. This was not a good start to the day.

“My dear Mrs. Edwards, are you all right?” Rowan asked, kneeling before her.

Olivia’s heartbeat was so erratic she could hardly think. “I-I believe so,” she stammered.

“Allow me.”

Rowan reached his arm around Olivia’s back to help her to her feet. A jolt of desire shot through her at his touch, followed swiftly by a stab of pain in her foot as she tried to put weight on it.

She sucked in a breath and then leaned into Rowan, unable to support herself in the mud on only one foot.
Blast.

“Mama, are you all right?” Marcus grabbed her hand.

“I’m fine, darling, I just—” She winced when she tried again to test her ankle.

“I wouldn’t call that fine, Mrs. Edwards.” Rowan was looking down at her, his face so close it would take very little effort to plant a kiss on his lips. “You might have a sprain.”

“Oh, no!” Olivia couldn’t fathom the thought of having stay off her foot for any amount of time. How would she work? How could she take care of Marcus? “I just need to walk on it a bit, I’m sure. I’ll be—”

She bellowed in pain after attempting, yet again, to put her foot down. Tears sprang to her eyes. This was
not
how she’d imagined this day going.

“Mama, can we still go on the sleigh ride?”

Olivia looked up at Rowan, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at Marcus as if the child were an apparition. What did he see there? Olivia’s heart raced. She had to separate them. What if he recognized his own features in Marcus’s face? They did have the same eyes, didn’t they? And that jaw…

“Oh, dear.” Olivia clutched her stomach, prompting Rowan to turn his attention back to her. She did feel as if she might toss up her accounts, but not because of the excruciating pain in her foot. Her fear of Rowan and Marcus finding out they were father and son was the culprit of her weak stomach.

“I’m afraid your mother won’t be able to go,” Rowan said to Marcus. “She needs to see a doctor.”

Olivia looked at her son’s sweet face. His bottom lip began to quiver just slightly, but he tipped his chin up, clearly trying to hide his disappointment.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” Olivia said, her voice cracking with emotion. She hated to see him so very sad.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t still go, young man,” Rowan continued.

Olivia swung her gaze to meet Rowan’s. “Bu-but—”

“I’ll look after him. You needn’t worry.”

He had no idea what her worries were.

“Oh, please, Mama! May I?”

How could she say no now? She would look like the worst sort of monster to keep him from going. And what explanation would she give? She couldn’t exactly come out and say, “I don’t want the two of you to discover you’re father and son.” That would sort of defeat the entire purpose, wouldn’t it?

“You’re certain you don’t mind?” she asked Rowan.

Rowan shook his head slightly and in one swift movement lifted Olivia into his arms. “Not at all. Now, let’s get you inside first.”