Lady of Sin (28 page)

“No.”

She strolled across the carpet to the window. James’s crown emerged below her as he headed to his carriage. He had not even said good-bye to his son.

She turned to the desk. She leafed through the papers there. “You have been busy. Here is another trust, a handsome one, for Joseph, also known as Harry, who currently resides with Mr. Avlon in Durham.”

“James saw the rightness of providing for the boy.”

She could imagine how that happened. “Will Ambrose ever see his father again?”

He came over to her and removed the papers from her hands. “When he is older, he can visit Mardenford wherever he resides. It will be his father’s choice whether to explain what happened.”

“Are you going to tell
me
what happened?”

“I did not blackmail him, if that is what you think.”

“It would be an odd blackmail, since you gained nothing in it but the presence in your new marriage of a small boy who is not your own.”

He shrugged. “He is a nice enough small boy. He will stop squealing in a year or two.”

She gazed at the documents. Trusts and letters ensuring the care of James’s son and his estate. These were the legal remains of a man putting his life in order. “He is not going to do himself in, is he?”

“No. However, he will not be returning to England.”

Not returning. Ever. She looked at Nathaniel. Not blackmail, but a bargain. A compromise. James had agreed to this to avoid a scandal about Isabella and Harry. To avoid the formal inquiries about that marriage in Spain.

Nathaniel had proposed this solution, she was sure of it. He had forged this plan to protect her and Ambrose from the same scandal and all it might reveal.

That did not explain why James had to accept exile, however. Either Nathaniel had forced James into a very bad bargain, or there was more at stake than she knew.

The answer stood in front of her, tall and confident, watching her.

“Do you think the marriage would be found to be legal?”

“Possibly. However, it would depend on whether the witnesses could be located, which is unlikely.”

“Will Harry ever know about that possibility?”

“When he is of age, I will share what I know with him. He has a right to that. It will be his choice whether to pursue it. However, I think the trust will appease him enough.”

“And if he does pursue it? Ambrose—”

“Ambrose will not grow up in an earl’s household, but in ours. His trust draws on James’s private wealth, not the title’s estates. He will be wealthy and have your secure love. If he does not become an earl because it is discovered the title is not rightfully his, it will not be the end of the world for him.”

“So all of these strategies may only delay the reckoning.”

He drew her into his embrace. “I cannot lie to that boy up in Durham. This was the best I could do.”

“I think you did very well. Eight years hence, I do not think I will care much whether my past is rearranged again.” She took his face in her hands and gazed deeply into his eyes. “James must have done something very bad to agree to this, Nathaniel. I do not think he goes abroad only to suppress questions about his brother’s Spanish alliance. Nor do I believe you would require it of him to buy our silence on that.”

He did not reply, but she found the answer in his eyes. “He killed that poor woman, didn’t he? That is what you learned from Mr. Yardley that day.”

He nodded. “However, Yardley is not the best witness. His memories are confused and vague. Even I would have difficulty getting a conviction on his story alone.”

She assumed he had considered trying, while he weighed his decisions these last days. He had tried it on and rehearsed that role. That meant he knew the truth even if Mr. Yardley was not enough. “Tell me, when you looked in James’s eyes today, what did you learn?”

He gathered her hands in his. “I saw his guilt, and damned little repentance. I also saw very little love for his son.”

“He is fortunate you chose this road for him, and not a more precipitous one.”

“It was a road that spared the innocent. It was not a bad compromise.”

His embracing arm guided her out of the library and away from those documents and the truth they buried. They went down to the garden again, and out amidst the plants under the sun.

The scents of spring drenched the breeze, creating the heady smell of a world embracing renewal. Nathaniel strolled beside her down the garden’s length.

“James was right. You spoil the boy. We should marry soon so the child is not ruined before a man’s influence saves him.”

She laughed. “You are so selfless, Mr. Knightridge.” She let the mirth die. “I am tempted to impose on that fine quality one more time.”

“How so?”

“You must deny me if you even suspect it is an unwise request, one that might risk our happiness. It would be just like you to agree, just to be kind, when in your heart you wished you had not. If that happens it will be a sorry state we will find ourselves in, although you would never say so. Which means that I would know you were unhappy but you would deny it, and we would—”

“Heaven spare me, Lady M. In another two sentences you will have us doomed to misery because I am so damned good.” A sardonic smile accompanied the scold. “I will weigh your request with due deliberation and answer honestly. I will never put our happiness at risk. Now continue.”

She stopped and faced him. She moved close and toyed with the fabric of his cravat. “I have been thinking that I would like to make another journey. To the north. To hold assemblies for the petitions.”

“Certainly. I assumed we would spend the summer on your cause. We can arrange it as soon as we are wed. Where would you like to go?”

She shrugged. “Durham would be convenient.”

His hand lifted her chin. “A tour of Durham would never risk our happiness, so there is more to this plot, I think.”

“Much more. I was thinking about Harry while I played here with Ambrose. I am sure that school is very good, and that he will be content there. However, I would like him to know he has a place in the world, and Mardenford’s family will never accept him. Even the funds in that trust will not give him a real home.” She bit her lower lip. “Do you think he could have a place with us, Nathaniel?”

He cocked his head in the due deliberation he had promised. “You astonish me, Charlotte.”

“It will be a little odd; I know that,” she hastened to add. “He is Philip’s son, of course. Not yours and not even mine. But I want to do this, if you do not hate the notion.” She also
needed
to do it, if she could. She faced the future now, but she still owed the memories some loyalty. “If it would be too awkward for you, I understand. It is only that—”

His fingers touched her mouth, silencing her with a gentle caress. “You misunderstand my surprise. If your heart can open to the boy, I am glad. I am fond of him, and do not want him adrift either. We will visit him in Durham and propose he make his home with us.”

His generosity moved her. She embraced him closely. Love’s poignant ache swelled her heart. “We will have an unusual family. Larger than most marriages when they start.”

“I am confident it will get larger. In fact, I wonder if it will not quite soon.”

She looked up. “What do you mean?”

He smiled at her perplexity. “It has been a month since we began this affair, Charl, and you have never put me off for the usual reason.”

“Usual reason . . . ?” Her mind snapped alert to his meaning.
“Oh.”
She did some fast calculations, not daring to hope. “Oh, my. I have not . . . Well, it has been some time since I counted days or even paid attention and . . .” Startled elation made her head spin. “I think you are right, Nathaniel. I can’t believe it, but I think you really are.”

He laughed at her shock. “I found your explanation of your barren state very odd in Hertford, since the weeks were passing and—”

“You must think me very stupid.”

“Never, my love. I only think you were too certain without fair proof.”

She did not think she could contain the day’s happiness. It threatened to burst her heart. Another child to love. Nathaniel’s child.

She eased his head down so she could kiss him. She let her love and gratitude flow to him. “I cannot wait until this child is born and with us,” she whispered. “A year from now our house will be so full of joy and love.”

“And full of children. I trust that the formidable Lady M. can manage it all.”

“As long as you love me, I am not afraid of any challenge, Nathaniel.”

“I love you completely, darling. My heart and soul and body are yours alone, forever. You are my life’s great passion.”

His kiss contained the totality of his promise. She responded just as completely. Her spirit met his in the perfect emotion. Desire shuddered within their love, a storm approaching fast with gale winds.

He stopped before the tempest overwhelmed them. His arms wrapped her and held her close to his chest. She rested her head near his heart, awed yet again by how alive this man made her feel.

He kissed her crown and loosened his hold. He took her hand in his. “Let us go inside and find the boy.”

ABOUT THE
AUTHOR

MADELINE HUNTER’S first novel was published in 2000. Since then she has seen twelve historical romances and one novella published, and her books have been translated into five languages. She is a four-time RITA finalist and won the long historical RITA in 2003. Nine of her books have been on the
USA Today
bestseller list, and she has also had titles on the
New York Times
extended list. Madeline has a Ph.D. in art history, which she teaches at an Eastern university. She currently lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and two sons.

Also by Madeline Hunter

BY ARRANGEMENT

BY POSSESSION

BY DESIGN

THE PROTECTOR

LORD OF A THOUSAND NIGHTS

STEALING HEAVEN

THE SEDUCER

THE SAINT

THE CHARMER

THE SINNER

THE ROMANTIC

LORD OF SIN

PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF
MADELINE HUNTER

LORD OF SIN

“Snappily paced and bone-deep satisfying, Hunter’s books are so addictive they should come with a surgeon general’s warning. [Hunter] doesn’t neglect the absorbing historical details that set her apart from most of her counterparts, engaging the reader’s mind even as she deftly captures the heart.” —
Publishers Weekly

THE ROMANTIC

“Every woman dreams of being the object of some man’s secret passion, and readers will be swept away by Hunter’s hero and her latest captivating romance.”
—
Booklist

THE SINNER

“There are books you finish with a sigh because they are so rich, so tender, so near to the heart that they will stay with you for a long, long time. Madeline Hunter’s historical romance,
The Sinner,
is such a book.”
—
The Oakland Press

THE CHARMER

“With its rich historical texture, steamy love scenes and indelible protagonists, this book embodies the best of the genre.”—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

THE SAINT

“[An] amusing, witty, and intriguing account of how love helps, not hinders, the achievement of dreams.”
—
Booklist

THE SEDUCER

“
The Seducer
is a well-crafted novel. . . . characteristically intense and frankly sexual.”
—
Contra Costa Times
(CA)

Don’t miss

Madeline Hunter’s

upcoming tale of intrigue and passion

THE
RULES OF
SEDUCTION

Coming in Fall 2006

Read on for a sneak peek.         .         .         .

THE RULES OF
SEDUCTION

On sale Fall 2006

M
r. Rothwell waited in the reception hall, surrounded by walls that had already been stripped of paintings. As Alexia entered he was bent, examining a marquetry table in the corner, no doubt calculating its worth.

She did not wait for his attention or greeting. “Mr. Rothwell, my cousin Timothy is not on the premises. I believe he is selling the horses. My cousin Miss Longworth is indisposed and her sister is too young to assist you. Will I do for whatever your purpose in coming might be?

He straightened and swung his gaze to her. She grudgingly admitted that he appeared quite magnificent today, dressed for riding as he was in blue coat and gray patterned silk waistcoat. She suspected he dominated large ballrooms as thoroughly as he did this small chamber. His presence, bearing and garments announced to the world that he knew he was handsome and intelligent and rich as sin. It was rude to look like that in a house being deprived of its possessions and dignity.

“I expected a servant to—”

“There are no servants. The family cannot afford them now. Falkner only remains until he finds another position, but he no longer serves. I fear you are stuck with me.”

She heard her own voice sound crisp and barely civil. His lids lowered just enough to indicate he did not miss the lack of respect.

“If I am stuck with you, and you with me, so be it, Miss Welbourne. My purpose in intruding is very simple. I have an aunt who has an interest in this house. She asked that I determine if it would be suitable for her and her daughter this season.”

“You want a tour of the property so you can describe it to potential occupants?”

“If Miss Longworth would be so kind, yes.”

“I doubt Miss Longworth would be so kind, although kindness is in her heart in most situations. She is also far too busy. Being ruined and made destitute is very time-consuming.”

His jaw tightened enough to give her a small satisfaction. The victory was brief. He set down his hat on the marquetry table. “Then I will find my own way. When I said my aunt had an interest I did not mean a casual curiosity but rather that of ownership. This property is already my aunt’s, Miss Welbourne. Timothy Longworth signed the papers yesterday. I presented my requirements as a request out of courtesy to his family, not out of any obligation.

The news stunned her. The house had already been sold. So fast! Alexia quickly calculated what that might mean to her plans, and to Roselyn and Irene.

She swallowed her pride. Its taste was growing increasingly bitter. “My apologies, Mr. Rothwell. The new ownership of the house had not been communicated to either Miss Longworth or myself. I will show you the house, if that will do.”

He nodded agreement and she began the ordeal. She led him into the dining room where his sharp gaze did not miss a thing. She heard him mentally counting chairs and measuring space.

The rest of the first level went quickly. He did not open drawers and cabinets in the butler’s pantry. Alexia guessed he knew they were already empty.

“The breakfast room is through that door,” she said as they returned to the corridor. “My cousin Roselyn is there, and I must beg you to accept my description instead of entering yourself. I fear seeing you will greatly distress her.”

“Why would my presence be so distressing?”

“Timothy told us everything. Roselyn knows that you brought the bank to the brink of failure and forced this ruin on the family.”

He absorbed that. A hard smile played at the corners of his mouth. Really, the man’s cruelty was not to be borne.

He noticed her glaring at him. He did not seem at all embarrassed that she had seen that cynical smile.

“Miss Welbourne, I do not need to see the breakfast room. I am sorry for your cousin’s distress, but matters of high finance exist on a different plane from everyday experiences. Timothy Longworth’s explanations were somewhat simplified, no doubt because he was giving them to ladies.”

“They may have been simple, but they were clear, as were the consequences. A week ago my cousins lived in style in London and soon they will live in poverty in the country. Timothy is ruined, the partnership is sold, and he will have debts despite his fall. Is any of that incorrect, sir?”

He shook his head, nonplussed. “It is all correct.”

She could not believe his indifference. He could at least appear a little chagrined, a bit embarrassed. Instead he acted as if this were normal. Perhaps he ruined families frequently.

“Shall we go above?” he asked.

She showed him up the stairs and into the library. He took his time browsing the volumes on the shelves while she waited, silently tapping her foot. She hoped he did not plan to open every book and memorize every title.

“Will you be going to Oxfordshire?” he asked.

“I would not allow myself to be a burden on this family now.”

Most of his attention remained on the books. “What will you do?”

“I have my future well in hand. I have drawn up a plan and listed my expectations and opportunities.”

He replaced a book on its shelf, quickly surveyed the rug and desk and sofas, then walked toward her.

“What opportunities do you see?” It sounded as if he knew the expectations were nonexistent.

She led him through the other rooms on the floor. “My first choice is to be a governess in town. My second is to be a governess anywhere else.”

“Most sensible.”

“Well, when facing starvation it behooves one to be so, don’t you think?”

The third level was not as spaciously arranged as the public rooms. He cramped her in the corridor. She became too aware of the large, masculine presence by her side as she showed the bedrooms. It seemed very wrong for this stranger to be intruding up here.

“And if you do not find a position as a governess?” The casual query came some time after their last exchange. His curiosity raised her pique to a reckless pitch. It was unseemly for the man who caused this grief to want the details.

“My next choice is to become a milliner.”

“A hat maker?”

“I am very talented at it. Years hence, if you should see an impoverished woman wearing a magnificent hat artfully devised of nothing more than an old basket, sparrow feathers and withered apples, that will be me.” She threw open the door of Irene’s bedroom. “My fourth choice is to become a soiled dove. There are those who say a woman should starve to death first, but I have never held with that. One must be practical and I am very much so.”

She received a long, sharp glance for that. One that managed to take her in thoroughly. Beneath his annoyance at how she mocked his lack of guilt, she also saw bold, masculine consideration, as if he calculated her value at the occupation fourth on her list.

Her face warmed. That stupid liveliness woke her skin and sank right through to churn in her core, affecting her in a shocking way, creating an insidious, uncontrollable awareness of her body’s many details. The sensation appalled her mind even as she acknowledged its lush stimulation.

She had to step back, out of the chamber and out of his sight, to escape the way his proximity caused a rapid drumbeat in her pulse. In the few seconds before he joined her she called up her anger to defeat the shocking burst of sensuality.

She continued her goads so he would know she did not care what he thought. She wanted this man to appreciate how his whims had created misery.

“My fifth choice is to become a thief. I debated which should come first, soiled dove or thief, and decided that while the former was harder work, it was a form of honest trade while being a thief is just plain evil.” She did not resist adding “No matter how it is done, or even how legal it may be.”

He stopped walking and turned into her path, forcing her to stop walking too. “You speak very frankly.”

He hovered over her in the narrow corridor. His gaze demanded her total attention. A power flowed, one masculine and dominating and challenging. An intuitive caution shouted retreat. The liveliness purred low and deep. She ignored both reactions and stood her ground.

“You are the one who asked the question about my future, sir, even though it does not matter at all to you what becomes of any of us.” She peered up at him severely. “I hope that you are proud of yourself. These are decent, good people and you have destroyed their lives. You did not have to remove all your business from Timothy’s bank. It is as if you deliberately ruined him and I do not know how you can bear to live with yourself.”

He gazed down at her, his dark blue eyes almost black in the dim hall’s lights and his jaw as set as it had been in the drawing room the other day. He was angry. Well, good. So was she.

“I live with myself very well, thank you. Until you have more experience in business and finance, Miss Welbourne, you can only view these developments from a position of ignorance. I am sincerely sorry for Miss Longworth and her sister, and for you, but I will not apologize for doing my duty as I saw fit.”

His tone startled her. Quiet but firm, it commanded that no further argument be given. She retreated, but not because of that. She was wasting her breath. This man did not care about other people. If he did, they would not be taking this tour.

She guided him toward the stairs rising to the higher chambers, but he stopped outside a door near the landing. “What is this room?”

“It is a small bedroom, undistinguished. I believe it was once the dressing room to the chamber next door. Now, up above—”

He turned the latch and pushed the door open. She pursed her lips and waited for him to take his quick, mental inventory.

Instead he paced into the small space and noted every detail. The two books beside the bed, the small, sparsely populated wardrobe, the neat stack of letters on the writing table—all of it garnered his attention. He lifted a hat from a chair by the window.

“This is your room,” he said.

It was, and his presence in it, his perusal of her private belongings, created an intimacy that made her uncomfortable. His touching her hat felt too much like his touching her. It created a physical connection that made the simmering liveliness more shocking and embarrassing.

“
For now
it is my room.”

He ignored the barb. He examined the hat, turning it this way and that. It was the one she had begun remaking in the garden two days ago. No one would recognize it now. “You do have a talent at it.” He glanced to her sharply, then back to the hat, as if mentally putting the two together and picturing the hat on a head.

“Yes, well, but as I said, being a milliner is only choice number three. If a lady works in such a shop, she can no longer pretend she is a lady at all, can she?”

He set the hat down carefully. “No, she cannot. However, it is more respectable than being a soiled dove or thief, although far less lucrative. Your list is in the correct order if respectability is your goal.”

That was an odd thing for him to say. It almost sounded as if he thought she should have different goals and a differently ordered list.

She still hated him by the time they were finished with the tour. She could not deny he was less a stranger, however. Entering the private rooms together, seeing the artifacts of the family’s everyday lives, being so close,
too
close, on the upper levels, had created an unwelcome familiarity.

Her susceptibility to his overbearing presence had placed her at a disadvantage. She wanted to believe she was above such reactions, especially with this man who probably thought it his due from all women. She resented the entire, irritating hour with him.

They returned to the reception hall and he retrieved his hat.

She broached the reason she had agreed to receive him at all. “Mr. Rothwell, Timothy is distracted. He is not conveying the details to his sisters, if indeed he even knows them himself. If I may be so bold—”

“You have been plenty bold without asking permission, Miss Welbourne. There is no need to stand on ceremony now.”

She grimaced. She
had
been bold and outspoken. She had allowed her vexation to get the better of her good sense. In truth, she had not been very practical in a situation where she badly needed that virtue.

“What is your question?”

“When have you told Timothy that the Longworths must vacate the house?”

“I have not said yet.” He levelled a disconcertingly frank gaze at her. “When do you think is reasonable?”

“Never.”

He smiled. “That is not reasonable.”

“A week. Please give them a week more.”

“A week it is. The Longworths may remain until then.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “You, however         .         .         .”

Oh, dear heavens. She had raised the devil with her free tongue. He was going to throw her out at once.

“My aunt has a passion for hats.”

She blinked. “Hats? Your aunt?”

“She loves them. She buys far too many, at exorbitant prices. As her trustee I pay the bills, so I know.”

It was an odd topic to start on the way out the door. In truth he sounded a little stupid.

“I see. Well, they often are very expensive.”

“The ones she buys are also very ugly.”

She smiled and nodded and wished he would leave. She wanted to tell Roselyn about the week’s reprieve.

Once more she received one of his piercing examinations. “A governess, you said. Your first choice. Do you have the education to be a finishing governess?”

“I have been helping prepare my young cousin for her season. I have the requisite skills and abilities.”

“Music? Do you play?”

“Yes. I am well suited to be a governess for any age, and especially young ladies. My own education was superior. I was not always as you see me now.”

He looked right into her eyes. “That is clear. If you had always been as you are now, you would have never dared be as rude and outspoken with me as you have been today.”