An Heir of Deception (16 page)

With one final glance out the bay window in the morning room, which overlooked the drive in the front, Charlotte gave up her post, a place she’d become too frequent a visitor.

She’d spent two whole days half dreading his arrival and the upheaval it would bring. But she couldn’t help feeling a certain amount of nervous anticipation when he entered her thoughts—if ever he was far from them. It was wretched, truly it was, to be out of sorts and anxious knowing her future was so uncertain.

Thankfully Nicholas appeared to be settling in well, his days spent running wild with his cousins. But there would soon come a time when she’d have to tell him about Alex. Who he was to him. And that wouldn’t be an easy conversation—at least not for her. He may only be four, but as with most children, her son could be painfully direct in his questions.

Mama, do I have a papa?
Nicholas had asked that at the age of three.

For the barest instant, she’d considered telling him the truth. But how could she when she was passing herself off as a widow? It was one thing to lie about a fictitious husband but her heart had balked, too pained by the thought of telling Nicholas his father was dead. So instead she’d told him his father lived too far away for either to visit the other.

He’d frowned at that but a minute later he’d been all smiles and playfulness as they dressed to go to the shop for a treat, the conversation all but forgotten.

Or so she’d thought until six months later he’d asked Lucas with a child’s innocence if
he
could be his father.

How would you like it if I became your uncle instead?
Lucas had suggested.

Nicholas had been more than satisfied with that and wasted no time in baptizing the title, his every sentence peppered with Uncle Lucas this and Uncle Lucas that. Charlotte had heard the newly anointed address of Uncle Lucas incessantly for three weeks straight. It had been heartwarming and agonizing all at the same time.

Now, all too soon she would have to tell him the man he’d spoken to ever so briefly when they arrived
was
his father.

Charlotte walked over to the tray of pastries the maid had brought in for the midday tea. She was on her own for the next few hours having declined her sister’s invitation to take tea with her friends. James had taken the twins to the shops to pick out a gift for their mother with her birthday a week away. Nicholas and Lily were taking their afternoon nap and Missy was going over the weekly menu with the housekeeper.

As she sat down and reached for a crème puff, the low timbre of Alex’s voice filtered in from the foyer. She’d recognize it anywhere, even from a fair distance and through four inches of solid wood. Charlotte put the pastry down, hastily wiped her hands with a serviette and then patted her hair several times while her heart slammed against her chest as though trying to break out.

Moments later the door opened and the head footman appeared in the threshold.

“Milady, Lord Avondale to see you.”

Before Charlotte could open her mouth to tell him to see his lordship in, Alex was there beside him, all tight-lipped and hooded eyes looking as grim as the reaper himself.

It would appear nothing had changed. She’d receive no dispensation from him. In fact, if she were going just by his stance, legs spread, hands folded across his chest, she would say it appeared he’d come prepared for a fight and she was the perfect opponent to spend his anger.

Charlotte’s stomach knotted and the urge to flee pummeled her, hitting her much harder than it had the day he’d made his intentions clear. It would be all too easy to pack up their clothes, take Nicholas and run. But she’d run before and that was no longer an option she could consider. Not anymore. They’d have to find a way to coexist, if not peacefully than without rancor.

With a nod to the footman, he departed and Charlotte turned her attention to Alex.

In silence, they regarded each other. Or perhaps, regard was too innocuous a word to describe the cold heat of Alex’s gaze. It pinned and bore holes that had the power to sear her insides and make the skin on her arms prickle despite the long and luxurious sleeves of her day dress.

“Hello, Alex.” She was happy to discover she spoke in an even, calm tone, the opposite of how she felt inside.

He gave a brief nod, uttering an excessively civil, “Charlotte.”

“If you’ve come to see Nicholas, I’m afraid he is napping. But he should awake in the next hour if you’d like to wait.”

“While I’d very much like to see my son, I came here to speak with you. May we sit?” He motioned toward the collection of comfortable chairs that comprised the room’s seating.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all. Charlotte turned and made her way back to the sofa and sank onto the cushioned silken brocade, the shiny material cool beneath her palms. He ignored the armchair closest to her, choosing to take the one that put him just within shouting distance. Another pinch to her heart—and it did hurt. She just could not afford to let him see how much.

Seated, he faced her across the low center table. Charlotte’s mind went blank to fill only with the sight of him. His chiseled features appeared harder today, which did little to lessen his appeal. Indeed it served to bring it into sharper focus. The hard cut of his jaw, the dimple in his chin and the fullness of his bottom lip made her belly knot, her pulse race and her throat dry. Under the circumstances, paramount in her thoughts shouldn’t be the kiss they’d shared the first night of her return; the wet tangle of tongues as he’d caressed her breast, but oh dear God, it was.

Contrarily, Alex didn’t appear the slightest bit consumed by such lurid thoughts. He watched her quietly between slightly narrowed eyes, the iris pewter in color, the brackets around his mouth, pronounced. Without removing his gaze from her, he extracted a folded sheet of paper from his navy coat.

“I believe I’ve found the solution to our problems,” he announced with just the faintest touch of grandstanding. He flicked his wrist and the paper fluttered.

Charlotte stared blankly at the paper in his hand. She couldn’t imagine anything could solve
her
problems if she remained in England. Not even the contents of the letter, whatever it was.

But if he’d hoped to stir her curiosity, he’d succeeded. “Pray, what is it?” Had he had something drawn up promising to never take Nicholas from her? Or was there a document in existence that would cause him to love her again? Did a document exist that would vaccinate her and her sister against Society’s judgment? If not, there could never truly be a solution to her problems.

With a low, mirthless chuckle, he unfolded the paper. Charlotte was growing accustomed to his laugh, a mixture of wryness and cynicism. She recalled a time when it had always brought a smile to her face.

“Your return will cause a far greater scandal than your precipitous flight.”

“Would you prefer I return to America?” Had he’d changed his mind on that score?

Alex sent her a sharp look, all traces of even feigned amusement gone. “You would leave your son?”

It appeared he had not. “Of course not,” she replied, feeling a tad snappish. Why was he doing this? They’d gone over this before. She would not leave, of that he was well aware.

“Then you have no choice but to stay.”

Charlotte wondered at the trace of smugness in his voice. Wasn’t it his dream to evict her from England, leaving the sole rearing of her son to him?

“I thought you wanted me gone?” She tried to not sound put out by it.

“As I told you, unlike you, I wouldn’t deprive my son of his mother if it was in my power to do so.”

Charlotte didn’t respond as it was apparent he’d use the same stone to bludgeon her time and time again. He’d forever see her as the heartless villain.

“Will you tell me how that paper is the solution to our problems? That is why you came, is it not?” she asked, suddenly tired of it all.

“Among other things.” He held it out to her across the table.

“What is it?” she asked as she reached to take it.

“You must read it as it requires your signature.”

She waited only a moment before he placed it in her hand. There was no conceivable reason for their flesh to make contact; why the blunt tips of his fingers should brush the back of her hand. But she felt the contact just as acutely as if he’d placed his mouth there. Then it was gone.

Nerves stretched taut, she began to read. It took several moments for Charlotte to comprehend what she was reading. Then like the click of a key in a lock, she understood. Her fingers froze, her indrawn breath ended in a gasp that ricocheted off the book-lined walls as her gaze snapped to his.

“But—but these are marriage papers stating we married five years ago.”

“Correct. And with this document, in the eyes of the law, we will be as soon as you sign it.”

Charlotte rose as she tried to collect her wits. “But we are not.”

“Yes but we will be once you sign it.” Not a hint of coercion lent the softening of his voice. He spoke with a steely edge of determination that indicated this was a command not a request.

Good Lord, he was asking her to commit fraud. People had been sent to prison for less. What did he hope to gain by turning them into criminals? “Alex, this is foolish.”

His form stiffened. He came to his feet and circled the table to loom above her five-feet-six-inch frame. When he spoke, his voice was even and controlled. “Yes, in matters pertaining to you, I’ve been known to act very foolishly. That I wholeheartedly admit. But in this, you do not have a choice. It is either marriage to me or ruin. Take your pick. What chance do you think Catherine will have to make a decent match when the
ton
learns her sister bore a child out of wedlock? And have you no care for your brother and his family? Will you be able to sleep at night if you embroil them in scandal?”

He took a step closer and leaned down, his face hovering perilously close to hers. “And since I won’t allow you to take my son from me
again
, this is the only course we have to save us all from scandal.”

Instinctively, Charlotte took a step back. She couldn’t think with him this near and the scent of sandalwood wafting in the air.

“Alex, this will never work. There is a church full of people who were witness to us
not
exchanging vows.”

Alex folded his arms across his chest, his wool coat stretched taut about his shoulders. “Armstrong and Creswell have already signed the marriage papers and will swear we exchanged vows the week before. A formal church wedding I will say was for my mother, who wanted a spectacular and lauded ceremony to celebrate the event.”

At his words, Charlotte’s eyes shot to the bottom of the document and on the two lines designated for witnesses were Thomas’s and Derek’s scrawled signatures.

“They agreed to this?” she asked, astonished. Her brother’s friends were fastidiously honest.

“It took a great deal of convincing, but they eventually relented.”

Charlotte could well imagine what Alex had had to say to them to involve them in something like this.

“They did not do this for me or you. They did because they have sons of their own and in their heart they know this is what Nicholas deserves.”

Because of course, it was she who would have denied him his title and everything it entailed.

“And the vicar who married us?” she asked after a pause.

“My cousin. He’s been running the parsonage near our country home these past eight years,” he replied smoothly. He’d taken care of everything.

“A man of the cloth aids in committing this kind of fraud?”

“I urged my mother to convince the duke to grant him the living so it’s fair to say, he believes he’s in my debt.”

In silence, they regarded one another.

She would have to live with this decision for the rest of her days. There’d be no going back.

He emitted a weary sigh and shook his head as he continued to eye her. “Do you truly believe I’d be doing this if I felt there was another avenue? I no more want to break the law than you, but I will for my son.”

“But—”

“I find it terribly ironic that you, who kept my son’s existence from me for four years, have now become skittish when it comes to the particulars of honesty and integrity in this matter.”

Alex should have been a marksman for he managed to hit his target every single time. But truly, she had no one else to blame but herself as she’d unintentionally made herself too perfect a target.

Alex walked to the desk in the corner of the room and plucked a pen from the inkstand. Turning toward her, he held it up.

“You know you have no other choice but to sign it. You know it is the right thing to do not only for Nicholas, but for everyone—yourself included. I may be many things, but the last thing I want to do is to have this whole affair played out in court. I do not want to take my son from you—but if you leave me no choice, I will.”

At his words and the sincerity in his voice, Charlotte glimpsed the Alex of old. As much as he hated what she’d done and as much as he’d altered over the years, he still possessed that innate goodness she’d so loved in him.