Patricia Rice (45 page)

Miles brought out a chair and offered it to Faith. When she reluctantly took a seat, the men joined her at the table.

Edward returned his gaze to his niece. “I am here to
offer recompense for past misunderstandings. My father, your
grandfather, regrets heartily his treatment of your family.
Unfortunately, it is too late for your parents, but it is not too late
for you and your son. He wishes to be reconciled with you. As he has
been increasingly ill of late, the matter has become of great importance
to him. If for no other reason, I beg that you return with me.”

Faith looked badly rattled by this approach. Morgan
watched her with sympathy. It was one thing for a father to irrationally
write off a son out of pride and ignorance, but to ask a warmhearted
woman like Faith to turn her back on her only living relations was a
strain to the imagination. Faith had learned much in this past year and a
half, but cynicism wasn’t a lesson that she had taken to. He reached
over and squeezed her hand.

Faith sent him a grateful look and answered simply, “That would be most difficult. I will need time to consider it.”

Edward nodded and went on. “I understand. However,
you might not understand entirely what I am saying to you. You also have
a grandmother, your mother’s mother, who grieves over the loss of her
daughter. She has been heartbroken in her search for you. She had been
under the impression that my father was looking for you after she
learned of your mother’s death. When she discovered he was not, she took
it upon herself to search. The worry has been detrimental to her
health. I believe she lives only to see you again. Surely you must see
that you cannot deny her that simple request She had nothing to do with
your parents’ banishment. She has never ceased in her efforts to bring
them home.”

Tears sprang to Faith’s eyes, but she shook her
head. “I am sorry it has taken so long for me to learn of my family, but
it is too late. My life is here now. A journey such as you suggest
should not be undertaken lightly, especially with a small child. Perhaps
when George is older, we might return for just a little while, just to
make amends. I cannot promise more than that.”

Morgan watched her proudly, knowing what it took to
say these words. The quiet, shy child who had swept his hearth had
become a woman of her own, and he was proud that she had consented to be
his wife. If only matters could be otherwise...

Edward scratched his chair backward. “I do not think
you understand, my dear. I am offering you a home with your family, not
a visit to make amends. Your son will grow up with the finest tutors,
knowing the finest society, going to the best schools. You will be
gowned according to your station in life, never having to lift a hand to
work again. Even if you can deny yourself all that, you cannot deny
George the family and wealth he deserves.”

The pampered heir squirmed in Faith’s arms and
sucked his fist a little louder. Faith shook her head with disinterest
and turned to Morgan. “Talk to the man, Morgan. You know perfectly well
that I would be bored silly with such a life, but if you think it is
necessary for George to have such an upbringing, perhaps something can
be arranged when he is older. I really should visit my family sometime,
and perhaps by then you will be ready to bring over more stock. I think
it best if I take your son upstairs now.”

All three men rose as Faith did, but Morgan caught
her arm, holding her back a second longer. “The decision to return is
yours, Faith, I’ll not make it for you. But if you give me your
permission, I will try to decide what is best for George.”

Faith stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his
cheek. “You are a worthless, conniving scoundrel, Morgan de Lacy, but I
love you. Remember, I will not be parted from either of you, so make
your decision accordingly.”

Smiling confidently, she left the men to their games of push-and-pull.

Glaring defiantly at Edward, Morgan returned to his chair. “You heard her. Now what do you suggest?”

Edward stretched his legs out before him and
regarded his toes. “I suggest you persuade her otherwise. You know as
well as I do that you are a blackguard and a wanted criminal. Your
marriage is on shaky ground, at best. I would not see the child declared
bastard, but a convenient death certificate for one James O’Neill can
be arranged. You will have your lands back in Ireland, reclaim your
title, take an annual stipend for your silence, and Faith and the boy
will be returned to the luxury that Faith has been denied for too long.
You know yourself that you cannot provide what I can provide for them.”

Morgan stifled his anger as best he was able. “And
you think you can provide what they need? A family that would throw out
one of its own, ignore his pleas, turn its back on the needs of a
child—you would have me consign my wife and child to that?”

Edward offered a haughty look. “And just what
precisely were you doing not nine months ago? You fancy yourself better
than us? I’ve had you investigated, de Lacy. I know precisely what you
are, and I know my niece deserves better than that. I will see you
hanged should you ever set foot in England again.”

“Then we shall remain here, shan’t we? I don’t need
your bribes, Stepney. I can provide for them. I’m not entirely without
means. Do yourself and your family a favor, accept Faith and our son as
they are, allow them to visit, then let them go. You cannot possibly
make them happy.”

Edward grimaced and set his fists on the table. “You
don’t know the half of it, yet. I am the heir not only to the Montague
fortunes but also to the title. I have no objection to Faith inheriting
half that fortune. She will also have her grandmother’s money in time.
That will happen regardless of anyone’s decision. My concern is for the
title. When I am gone, it will go to Thomas unless other arrangements
are made.”

Morgan shrugged, “I can see reason for concern. The
man belongs in either Bedlam or Newgate, but I’m sure you can arrange
that. You need only marry and produce the requisite heir in the
meantime. I see that as of no consequence to me.”

Edward frowned. “You’d damned well better see the
consequences. I’m incapable of having children. I have mistresses strung
across half the damned town. I’ve been swiving women since I was
fourteen. Not one of them has ever produced a child. Not one. It is a
family trait. It has happened in the past. That is why there is an act
of Parliament allowing the marquessate of Mountjoy to pass through the
female line. As a direct descendant of the current marquess, Faith can
pass on the title to her son. Your son will be named my heir and known
as the Viscount Montague as soon as the paperwork has been completed.
You see, he must return with me.”

Morgan sat in stunned disbelief. To keep Faith
selfishly to himself would be to deny his son the power that came with
wealth and nobility. He was a selfish man. He could easily choose to
believe that he was better for Faith than any arrogant Sassenach. At the
same time, he was honest enough to know that he had not brought Faith
happiness, nor offered her what she deserved.

His need for Faith howled malevolently at the
thought of such a separation ever again, but the earl held all the
cards. Once again, the bloody British had won. He could not deny his son
the chance to take what had been wrongfully denied him in the first
place.

Morgan growled a furious protest, shoved his chair back, and stood. Without looking at the earl, he strode toward the door.  “My man, Golden, will go with you. I’ll see them protected by better than you. Miles, you make the arrangements.”

Edward slumped with a sigh of relief and didn’t look up as Morgan walked out.

Morgan stood in the doorway and watched the tableau
within as he had once before. Then he had thought of himself as an
outsider, an intruder into the warm family scene of mother and child.
Since then he had dared to believe they would accept him, faults and
all, and he had been filled with the most miraculous joy.

He clung to the hope for just a little while longer.
Faith lifted the swaddled infant into the air and smiled lovingly at
his sleepy, contented face, then cuddled him in her arms again as she
crossed the room to lay him in his cradle. Morgan knew when she noticed
him, the smile would grow and she would open her arms and take him in.
He could lift her into his embrace, feel her curves pressed against him,
touch her with his kisses. She would run her fingers through his hair,
tell him of her love—God, just the thought brought tears to his eyes. He
convulsively gripped the doorframe and reached for the indifferent mask
he had worn for so long it had become second nature to him.

“We must talk, Faith.” He strode into the room.

Faith gave a crow of delight at his appearance. As
Morgan had known she would, she laid the child down and held out her
arms in welcome. Instead of going to her, he took a seat on the room’s
one battered chair. He gazed disparagingly at the attic room, taking in
the mended curtains, the narrow bed, and the uncarpeted floor.

Faith took a trusting step in his direction, then,
at his forbidding expression, settled for a seat on the bed. “Was he
awful? He didn’t seem half so bad as I expected. I suppose he must love
his father very much to come all this way to plead his case. Do you
think we might go back for a little while?”

Morgan tightened the steel bands encasing his heart.
“I think that would be best, yes. The weather should hold good for
quite some time, and George is a healthy lad. It would be best if you
sailed when your uncle does. I’ll see that your cousin is held back.
He’s the dangerous one.”

Faith tilted her head and tried to probe behind the
unnatural calm of Morgan’s voice. Morgan laughed or screamed or argued
or ordered or teased. Morgan did not
calmly
discuss an impending journey of this magnitude. “I cannot see the hurry,
unless you prefer to live in England. I truly think we have a much
better chance of a good life here, Morgan.”

Morgan faced her squarely. “I must return to my
lands in Ireland, my dear. It will be a long time before they are
habitable again, but I owe it to my friends there. You will have to
return to England with your uncle. He can provide for you much better
than I can.”

Faith nervously clasped her hands. “Don’t be
ridiculous. You know I can live anywhere. We’ll go to England together,
then travel on to Ireland. Or we can go to Ireland first, if you wish.
It does not matter to me. I do not care where or how we live, just so
long as we are together. Isn’t that what you want?”

“That isn’t how it works, Faith. If I go to England,
your uncle will see me hanged. If you go to England, he will buy back
my lands. This is good-bye, my love, for your own good, and for
George’s.”

Faith fought her fury, then rose with a wicked swish
of her skirts and narrowed gaze. “Oh, that is grand, Morgan de Lacy.
That is grand indeed. Well, you and my uncle may go hand in hand to any
hell you desire. I am staying here.”

With that she stalked out, leaving Morgan to stare
disconsolately at the cradle where his son slept. He didn’t care about
Ireland anymore, he discovered. He didn’t care about England either. He
didn’t give a flying damn for wealth or society. What he wanted was
here, in this little room, and with the woman who had just walked out
the door.

What he wanted had nothing to do with anything. That
was what love did to a man, he supposed. Stupid, bloody emotion,
anyway. He was better off without it. Resolutely he rose from the chair,
ran his finger over his son’s soft cheek, and departed.

He found Edward sitting in the private parlor,
critically examining a plate of roast lamb and green peas. At Morgan’s
entrance, the earl glanced up with irritation.

“Well, is she coming?”

“She has just told us both to go to hell. She is
quite accustomed to my leaving her. She has made up her mind to make her
home here, with or without me. Perhaps you had best explain the details
to her.” Morgan attempted to hide the agony behind his words.

Edward nodded and wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“Very well. I can see you are selfishly hoping she will stay. I thought
you a better man than that. Go tend your horses or whatever it is you
do. I will see to her.”

Faith looked up with impatience and a trace of fear
as Lord Stepney approached with what ought to be lumbering gait. He was
so large that she had reason to doubt that they came from the same
family, but her father had been tall and the family features were
similar, just larger.

She didn’t like the look in his eye, but he couldn’t
harm her here. Bess was in the next room, and the taproom wasn’t so
noisy at this hour that they would not hear her screams. She tilted her
chin defiantly.

Edward eyed the linen she was folding with disfavor.
“You are a Montague. Servants should be seeing to that. Your son cannot
grow up watching his mother sully her hands like a common laborer. I
mean to make him my heir, you know. He will be the Marquess of Mountjoy
one day.”

Faith held back the tears of anger and hurt. “He is my son. You cannot take him away from me.”

“But I can, my dear.” he answered softly. “I have it
in my power to do as I wish with my heir. It would be much simpler if
you went along with me. I do not mean to harm you, only offer you all
that you have been denied before. But you must see that a future
marquess cannot grow up outside society’s bounds. He will have all that a
boy deserves, and a future that none other can equal. Can you in all
honesty deny him that?”

“He will not have a father. Can you in all honesty
deny him that?” Faith retorted, so angry that she could deny all the
fortunes and titles of the world. Uncle he might be, but in this moment
she hated him.