To Tempt an Irish Rogue (18 page)

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Authors: Kaitlin O'Riley

Tags: #Romance, #General, #Historical, #Fiction

BOOK: To Tempt an Irish Rogue
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“I know,” she sniffled, trying to catch her breath. Crying this way was so unlike her, but then she had not been herself from the moment Declan Reeves first walked into the bookshop.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Declan insists on finding out who is sending the notes and he won’t see me again until he thinks it’s safe for us.”
“Well, you must do something soon. Let’s figure this out, shall we?” Yvette made an effort to cheer her. “What are your options?”
“I don’t know if I have any options, for it may just be worse than you know, Yvette.”
Yvette’s expression grew worried. “What do you mean?”
A long silence ensued, as Paulette gathered the courage to reveal the most recent secret that had tormented her. “I am almost certain that I am carrying Lord Cashelmore’s child.”
Yvette’s shock left her completely speechless, her face frozen in utter disbelief tinged with horrified panic.
Paulette had harbored her suspicions for days now, but she had no way of knowing for sure. In all actuality, the consequence of a baby should not be unexpected, considering all that she and Declan had done together in the little bedroom above the bookshop, although he had even taken some precautions to prevent such an occurrence. Still she had not thought it could happen to her until certain physical symptoms could no longer be ignored. She had consulted some medical texts in the shop and all signs pointed to a pregnancy. The heavy burden of this secret left her sleepless for the last few nights.
She would have to tell Declan soon but thought she should get official confirmation from a doctor first. All she had now were her suspicions and the desperate hope that she was wrong.
Yvette still sat with her mouth agape in stunned amazement, when the door to their sitting room flew open and their two little nephews raced to them. Phillip and Simon Sinclair, dressed in their nightclothes, clamored for goodnight kisses from their aunts. The boys climbed upon the sofa where Paulette and Yvette sat and snuggled onto their laps.
Paulette took a deep breath and tried to laugh at the antics of the two boys.
“Kisses, Auntie Paulette!” demanded Simon, wrapping his baby arms around Paulette’s neck and pressing wet kisses on her nose. She giggled and hugged him to her. Then Phillip, a little more sedate than his younger brother, claimed his kiss from her.
“The boys were so happy you were both still home this evening,” Colette said, following closely behind her sons. “They wanted to say good night.” She suddenly glanced with raised brows at the scene on the sofa. “What’s going on, girls?”
“Oh, I was giving Paulette a hard time for not coming out with me tonight, telling her she never has any fun and won’t ever catch a husband by hiding herself away night after night, and I suppose I upset her. I was just giving her my apologies.” Yvette rose from the sofa with Simon in her arms. “Now, I think this young man needs to get to sleep.” She handed the boy to Colette and straightened out her dress.
Grateful for the presence of the boys and impressed with Yvette’s quick thinking and acting skills, Paulette struggled to put a neutral expression on her face and managed a weak smile. “I’m just overtired.”
“So am I!” Colette agreed, looking a bit weary herself. “This week has been exhausting for both of us. You deserve to get some rest, Paulette.” She turned to their younger sister. “And where are you off to this evening, miss?”
“I was going to attend the Sheridans’ party, but now I think I may just stay in after all.” Yvette gave a fleeting glance in Paulette’s direction.
“Well, let me know what you decide to do. Come along, boys. Say good night!” Colette took Phillip’s hand and they were serenaded by a chorus of good wishes for their sleep.
As soon as they were gone and the door closed, Yvette sat back down on the sofa beside her, her eyes full of worry.
“You don’t have to stay home on my account,” Paulette said, looking at her little sister all dressed up in her finery and now not going anywhere.
“I want to stay home with you.” Yvette squeezed her hand. “Oh, Paulette. What are you going to do?”
“I need to check with a doctor first, I suppose. To be sure one way or another. Would you come with me?”
“Of course. But we can’t go to anyone who knows us,” Yvette mused. “And certainly not any doctor in town. Maybe we can go to Brighton under the pretext of visiting Mother. We could use a false name there and see a doctor in Brighton.”
“That is a brilliant idea.”
Yvette flashed her a smile. “I know you don’t think so, but I do have them from time to time.” She paused and their eyes met. Her expression suddenly turned serious. “I can’t believe this is happening. And to you. The sister least likely to be in this position.”
“I can’t either. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Paulette released a resigned sigh. “This is what comes from doing everything with a man.”
“Are you scared?”
“Terrified.”
“I am here for you,” Yvette promised, squeezing her hand tightly. “We’ll figure this out together.”
Feeling tears well up in her eyes once again, Paulette squeezed Yvette’s hand back, barely able to whisper a faint, “Thank you.”
Chapter 20
Details
“My advice to you, Lord Cashelmore, is to go back to Ireland and end this matter once and for all.”
Declan stared at the man who sat in the chair across from his desk. He had hired the best criminal attorney in London, Mr. Sebastian Woods, three weeks ago to look into his case in Ireland as well as the matter of the threatening letters and so far he had turned up nothing more than what Declan already knew.
Someone in Ireland wanted him in prison or worse.
He also knew that it was time to go home and finally put an end to the accusations. He’d been gone long enough. He was innocent of whatever allegations they chose to heap upon him and he had to do something soon to defend himself against the serious charges Margaret’s family were trying to trump up against him.
However, he wasn’t ready to leave London just yet.
Mara was doing so well. Her nightmares had ceased completely. She was smiling and giggling more and more and she seemed lighter and almost back to her true self. He couldn’t uproot her now. She was happy here in her new home in London. Bringing her back to the ugliness in Dublin could erase over two months of progress, he was certain of it.
And there was Paulette to think about.
He could not bring himself to leave Paulette, even though he had not seen her in weeks.
It was only his fear for her safety that kept him from being with her. He had no idea if the author of the notes planned to act out his cowardly threats, but it was not a risk Declan was willing to take with Paulette’s life. Which was why he was pleased that Lucien Sinclair had seen to it that his sister-in-law was protected, unaware that there was a true need for her protection and safety. Someone was following Paulette and him and until he found out who it was, Declan could not have chanced Paulette being seen with him. It seemed to be working, too, for she had sent him word that she had only received one more of those letters since they stopped seeing each other. Declan, however, was still receiving them quite regularly. The most recent note arrived only yesterday and was more disturbing than the others.
You’re a killer. So you will be killed, too. Time is running out for you, Cashelmore.
The letters angered Declan not only for what they said but for the distance they had placed between him and Paulette.
“I feel it is imperative that we follow the trail of these letters back to Dublin. There we can find out who is sending these outrageous notes and put a stop to this nonsense, as well as put these dangerous accusations against you to rest in a court of law,” Mr. Sebastian Woods added, glancing over the latest letter. He was a tall and angular man, with shoulder-length blond hair that he let hang loose. He was not at all what one would expect a re-nowned solicitor to look like. But he was the best.
“Yes,” Declan agreed with reluctance. “I will make plans to go back home before the end of October.”
“I think that is the best course of action, Lord Cashelmore,” Sebastian Woods said, rising to his feet. “I shall begin making arrangements to journey to Dublin with you.”
Declan shook hands with his solicitor and saw him out, thinking of his home in Ireland. He had no wish to uproot his daughter and bring her back there so soon.
Yes, Mara was his main concern, but his thoughts kept coming back to Paulette.
It had been torturous for him not seeing her pretty face, hearing her soft voice, or touching her every day. He felt empty without her. All he longed for was to take Paulette in his arms and kiss her. He wanted to be with her. She was the only person he ever had confided in about the truth of his married life, and talking to her about his hellish union to Margaret had eased something in his soul.
He simply missed being near Paulette.
Each night he found himself dreaming about her and that scared him. He should not want her so much, should not think about her so much. About how he wanted her in his arms in bed at night. Wanted her home with him.
Sometimes he even thought of marrying her. But how could he involve her in the complicated mess that was his life? How could she marry someone who was accused of murdering his wife? Not that Paulette believed that about him, but she refused to tell her family about him. Her family would never accept him as good enough for her, and Declan agreed. He was a widower with a mute child. He was rumored to be a murderer, and was haunted by a past that would not let him be. What kind of life was that for Paulette?
Yet he could no longer imagine his life without her.
In the meantime he counted the days until the grand opening of the new bookshop. He hadn’t been officially invited, but he figured there would be so many people in attendance, he could blend in with the crowd and at least see Paulette and tell her that he was leaving for Ireland. Besides, he didn’t want to miss her opening day. She had worked so hard for the new store and he was quite proud of her for it.
He would surprise her at the opening of the bookshop.
Chapter 21
Mother
“
Quelle surprise!
It is such an unexpected pleasure to have my two daughters come visit me!
Quelle bonne surprise!”
Genevieve La Brecque Hamilton declared happily.
In her late fifties, the many lines on the face of the matriarch of the Hamilton family did not betray her beauty. She still possessed long silver hair that she swept into an elegantly styled knot behind her head and wore a fashionable gown of gray silk. Her blue eyes danced with excitement at the arrival of her daughters.
As Genevieve reclined on the divan in her cottage by the sea in Brighton, Paulette and Yvette sat in the parlor with her, exchanging guilty glances between them.
Paulette’s head was still spinning from the news Doctor Brewster had just given her earlier that morning and it was difficult to listen to her mother.
“We’re only staying the night,
Maman
,” Yvette explained matter-of-factly. “The new shop opens next week and Paulette must get back to London.”
“Oh, yes,” Paulette agreed. “I’ve so much to do to get ready for it.”
“If you are so busy then what brings you two girls to Brighton? I was not expecting you today
. Je ne m’attendais pas du tout à vous voir.”
“We wanted to know if you were coming to London,
Maman
,” Paulette answered. “We know how you feel about the bookshop, but it would makes us very happy if you could be there for the opening.”
A look of displeasure appeared on Genevieve’s face. “Oh, I find it insulting that you would think I would not attend the grand opening of my daughters’ new bookshop. I don’t know why you girls would think such dreadful things about me.” Their mother pouted. “Honestly, what you girls must think of me!
Honnêtement mes filles, ce que vous devez pensez de moi!”
“Oh,
Maman
, we didn’t mean to upset you,” Yvette cried with a little laugh. “We just know that coming to London is not on your list of favorite activities and you’ve never made a secret of your feelings for the shop.”
“Hmmph.” Genevieve crossed her arms, her nose in the air. “You exaggerate
.
I do not believe that
. Je ne le crois pas.”
“Truly, Mother, we did not wish to insult you.” Paulette wondered how she would ever survive the one night here with her mother.
“I will be there,” Genevieve declared with great indignation. “I would not miss such an important event. You are my daughters. We are a family. Of course I would be there.
Bien-sûr que je serais là, nous sommes de la même famille.”
“Thank you,
Maman
,” they both responded in unison.
Genevieve La Brecque Hamilton had a somewhat tumultuous relationship with her five daughters, especially Colette. Growing up, their mother had made it known to all that she cared little for her husband’s love of books and detested living above the shop. Genevieve and Thomas Hamilton’s marriage was not a happy one. While Thomas buried himself in books, Genevieve took to her bed, feigning illnesses and ailments, allowing her daughters to care for her. In essence, Colette, as the eldest, had become the head of the family, taking care of her younger sisters when their mother would no longer do so. After their father passed away, Genevieve tried to sell Hamilton’s Book Shoppe against Colette’s wishes but had not been successful. Then she moved to her little house by the sea in Brighton, where she demanded visits from her daughters and occasionally she ventured to London to see them.
Just then Fannie, their mother’s housekeeper, bustled into the parlor, carrying a tray filled with lemon cakes and hot tea, and declaring for the dozenth time how fine it was to have the girls there.
“Thank you, Fannie,” Paulette said, as the woman returned to the kitchen promising to cook them a special supper to celebrate their visit.
Then Genevieve turned her attention to her youngest daughter. “Now, tell me, what is new in London? Tell me everything.
Dites-moi tout.
Have you any interesting beaux, Yvette?”
As Yvette happily chattered on about the scores of young gentlemen who had fallen under the spell of her charms, Paulette’s stomach churned. There was no longer any doubt.
She was going to have a baby. Declan’s baby.
Cold fear coursed through every single fiber of her being. Complete and utter fear. What on earth was she to do? Sometime in May she was going to have a child! Her mind could not grasp the reality of that fact. While taking the train down to Brighton earlier that morning and wearing a small gold band on her finger that Yvette had somehow found for her, Yvette concocted a plausible story. She had been quite clever and thought of everything.
Paulette used the false name, Mrs. Livesey, and her “husband,” John, was an artist in Paris, and she and her sister were on their way to visit him. But Paulette, suspecting she was carrying a child while en route to join him, wanted confirmation before she saw her husband again. She didn’t know if the doctor, a rather dour and disapproving gentleman with cold hands, believed her story or not. It mattered little in the end when, after his examination, he confirmed Paulette’s worst suspicions. She fought to keep from bursting into tears at the news. It was only the press of Yvette’s hand in hers that kept her from sobbing in the doctor’s office.
As they made their way to their mother’s house, the two of them wanted nothing more than to take the first train back to London. But since they had told Colette that they were visiting their mother, they had no choice but to go and see her.
Now all Paulette could do was worry. What was she going to do? How would she tell Declan? What would he say? How would she tell her family? They would be so ashamed of her! Lucien would most likely kill Declan. She shuddered at the thought.
Good God in heaven, what was to become of her? She would be ruined! Completely and utterly ruined.
“And what about you, Paulette?
Parle-moi un peu de tous les hommes qui s’intéressent à toi.
Tell me about the gentlemen interested in you.”
Paulette blinked incomprehensibly at her mother.
“Paulette! Are you asleep? Wake up!
Réveille-toi, petite marmotte! Je t’ai posé une question! ”
Genevieve snapped her fingers, attempting to gain Paulette’s attention. “I asked you a question. Can you not answer a simple question?”
“I’m sorry,
Maman
. I didn’t hear what you said.”
Her mother gave her a suspicious glance. “You are a beautiful young girl. Why do you not have a suitor?
Comment est-ce possible qu’une belle demoiselle comme toi n’ait pas de prétendants?
How can a beautiful girl like you not have a beau? At your age? You should be married by now, Paulette.
Pourquoi n’es-tu pas mariée? Qu’est-ce que tu attends?
You should have a husband and a baby. What are you waiting for? Are you going to spend your whole life in that bookshop, like your father?”
“How many questions are you asking me, Mother?” Paulette asked in frustration.
Genevieve gave her a determined look. “You know exactly what I am asking you.”
“Let Paulette be,
Maman
,” Yvette chimed in an attempt to calm them. “She’s happy working in the bookshop for now and will marry when she’s ready.”
If Paulette weren’t so consumed with dread, she would have laughed at her younger sister’s defense of her to their mother. The roles were reversed. Usually it was Yvette asking the same questions their mother just asked, and Colette defending Paulette.
The day wore on and supper was an endless affair that evening and although Paulette was sure the meal Fannie had prepared especially for them was delicious, she could not stomach more than a mouthful or two. She had no appetite for food. In fact she felt terribly nauseous. She managed to add to the conversation enough so that she did not appear too quiet and pushed her food around on her plate to give the appearance of eating.
But she was grateful to finally climb into bed later that evening. Sharing the bed with Yvette brought back memories of their childhood.
“It’s been years since we’ve been in the same room, let alone the same bed!” declared Yvette as she snuggled under the covers. “Oh, it’s so cold in here!”
Through the darkness, Paulette whispered, “Thank you for coming with me. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without your help.”
“It’s the least I can do. But I don’t think you’re through anything yet, Paulette. In fact, I’d say you’re only just beginning.”
“I know, but you’ve been such a comfort to me.” Paulette felt tears well in her eyes again.
Yvette propped her hand under her head, her elbow on the pillow. “You need to tell Lord Cashelmore. He’s sure to marry you once he knows. It’s the only solution to this mess.”
Paulette did not think that would be the case. Besides she didn’t wish to force Declan’s hand in marriage. “He never wants to marry again. He said so.”
“Well, he hasn’t much choice now, has he?” Yvette retorted rather matter-of-factly. “You’re having his baby.
A baby
, Paulette! You
have
to get married!”
“I don’t
have
to . . .”
“Unless you want complete scandal and utter social ruin you do!” Yvette was aghast. “And think of the child! What about the baby?”
“I could go away for a while . . .”
Yvette grew very thoughtful at Paulette’s words. “Yes, you could.... We could tell Lucien and Colette that we want a trip abroad. Lucien has always suggested that we take one. I could go with you. We could stay in a nice villa in Italy somewhere until the baby is born and then we could return to London as if nothing happened.”
In spite of the seriousness of their conversation, Paulette managed to laugh a bit at her sister’s apparently well-laid scheme. “Have you planned all this out?”
“Well,” Yvette answered a bit defensively. “It’s not as if it hasn’t been done before. I’ve read about it in a lot of novels. It’s what girls like us always do when they’re in your kind of trouble.”
For the last week, Paulette had been thinking of nothing else but what girls should do when faced with this particular kind of trouble. Aside from marriage, taking a leave of absence was the only other socially acceptable alternative. “I was thinking more along the lines of going to stay with Juliette in America. She’s coming to London for the opening of the store. I’ll explain everything to her then and just go back to America with her when she leaves.”
“Oh! That’s an even better idea! Juliette will know what to do. Why didn’t I think of that? It’s much more plausible and would raise less suspicion.”
“That’s what I’d prefer to do, rather than hide away in Italy.”
Releasing a heavy sigh, Yvette asked, “Is that really what you want to do?”
“None of this is what I want, Yvette, but I have very few options. And I feel like a fool.”
“You’re not a fool. You’re a girl in love and that’s why they have all these rules in society, you know. To keep the men away from us and to prevent us females from ending up this way.” Yvette paused a moment. “Are you going to tell Lord Cashelmore?”
Paulette’s first instincts had been to tell Declan as soon as she returned to London, but the more she thought about it, the more she believed it might be better to say nothing at all. If she told him about the baby, Declan would feel obligated to marry her, just as Yvette predicted. But Paulette did not want to marry a man who was marrying her out of duty or a sense of guilt. If she slipped away to visit Juliette for a few months, no one would know about the baby, except Yvette and Juliette. She could think of what to do once she was in America. Juliette would know what was best and it would buy Paulette some time. “I don’t have to tell him anything if I go to America with Juliette.”
“I still think it’s best to tell him,” Yvette said with a bit of worry in her voice. “He’d marry you and you wouldn’t have to run away.”
“No.”
“Now you’re being foolish.”
“Would you want to marry a man who was being forced to marry you, Yvette?”
After a quiet minute her sister grudgingly admitted, “No, I suppose not, but still . . . You’re having his baby, Paulette. You already told me what a good father he is. Why wouldn’t he want a baby with you? He has to marry you. At the very least he deserves to know about his child, don’t you think?”
“I can’t think about this anymore,” Paulette cried, placing her hands over her face.
Ever since she suspected that she might be with child, she had been trying to picture Declan’s reaction if she were to tell him about the baby. Her visions ranged from him being overjoyed and wanting to make her his wife, to her words being greeted with stony silence and disgust. Declan had so much to worry about. He was dealing with the charges being brought against him in his wife’s death as well as struggling to help his daughter speak again. He certainly didn’t need to take on the added burden of Paulette and a baby.
A baby. She dared not even let herself think of this child. Dared not think of loving it. Of imagining a life with this baby. It was too heartbreaking.

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