Forever Yours Box Set 3

by Stacy Reid

  Employing Miss Ashbrook may have been in equal measure the smartest and stupidest thing he could have done in the circumstances. She was the most suited person to rear the babe, being acquainted with the child from birth and being her aunt. But the way Miss Ashbrook affected him, being under his roof must be a recipe for some great disaster. But he was resolved to be an utter gentleman to the only woman who had affected him for some time.

  After Miss Ashbrook had agreed to stay on as Lizzie’s governess, he had moved with grim efficiency to set all the proper things in motion. He had introduced her to the staff along with Lizzie and had arranged for the housekeeper to place her in comfortable quarters. His townhouse only had eight bedrooms, and she had been given the one closest to him. Michael had barely slept, knowing the only woman who had roused him in months slept just a connecting door away.

  Ruthless thoughts of seduction had danced in his brain, and he had padded downstairs in the dead of night to his exercise room, to practice boxing moves for hours. With his muscles aching and sweat dampening his hair, he had fallen into a deep and restful sleep, thankfully without any provocative dreams.

  The door opened, and Thomas strolled in with a wide smile. “Viscountess Meade is outside these doors, asking after you. I told her our meeting would only be a few minutes, and the lady has determined to wait.”

  At his lack of response, Thomas arched a brow. “Is all well? You appear more serious than usual.”

  Michael indicated the sofa closest to his desk. With a nonchalant shrug, Thomas lowered himself in the plush depths and stared at his brother. Thomas was a handsome lad, very similar in appearance to Michael for they both possessed their father’s dark blond hair, gray eyes, and lean build.

  “I can tell you have something on your mind.”

  “Tell me about Lucy Ashbrook,” Michael said softly.

  Thomas paled, and his throat worked on a swallow. At this moment he looked like a young lad of three and twenty on the cusp of discovering the world, not the savvy genius who did the club’s bookkeeping.

  “Lucy?” he asked faintly, his gaze scanning the room as if he expected her to appear.

  “Yes. Lucy Ashbrook.”

  Thomas raked trembling fingers through his hair and closed his eyes for several moments. “She…Lucy…how do you know of her?”

  “I gather you do not remember mentioning her to me once?”

  At his brother’s bewildered look, Michael continued, “Ah…clearly you do not. You were in your cups, heavily I might add, and you asked me to allow you to marry her. I asked if you were afflicted and why would you think to marry a girl with such little connections, and you made no answer. That was the only time I heard you mention her. When I saw you the next morning, you did not mention her, and I was foolish enough to simply shrug it off as you being foxed.”

  Thomas shook his head, dazedly. “I do not recall that conversation, Michael.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “She…she was a girl I love…loved.”

  Michael leaned back in the wing back chair, assessing his brother. A dark throb of anger pulsed through him. “And that is all you have to say.”

  Thomas jerked to his feet and started pacing. “I met her last Season at Lady Goodall’s soirée. She was sitting in the garden and seemed very unhappy at the time I approached her, and we…we struck up a friendship. We were never formally introduced, but I contrived to meet her several times. Lucy was charming and pretty and…so vibrant.”

  “There was no mention of Lord Thomas paying attention to any society miss. The scandal sheets made no speculation about you.”

  “I was not publicly courting her,” Thomas snapped, an edge of frustration in his tone. “She is the daughter of a country vicar. Her manners were charming, but she did not meet the requirements to be my wife!”

  A painful silence fell in the office.

  “But she met the requirement for you to ruin her chances of ever securing a match of her own. She was worth bedding, but not much more?”

  Thomas blanched, faltered in his pacing, and narrowed his eyes. “What knowledge do you have of Lucy and me?”

  “Sit!” Michael’s voice cut through the room like sharpened steel.

  His brother stiffened, but he made his way to the sofa and lowered his frame. His pose was tight with tension, and his lips were flat and unsmiling.

  “I believed I told you never to take an innocent to your bed!”

  Thomas could not meet his eyes and looked somewhere above Michael’s shoulder.

  “A young lady showed up at my townhouse yesterday. With a child she claims is mine.”

  He snapped his gaze to Michael’s. “Good God!”

  “That young lady is Miss Marianne Ashbrook. The mother of the child is Lucy Ashbrook.”

  Thomas understood the situation immediately. His mouth worked, but no word came forth for several moments. “Lucy and I…we have a child?” he asked in horrified accents.

  “Yes.”

  Thomas stared, his eyes welling, then he glanced away, evidently fighting for composure. “Is she married…is Lucy married?”

  “No,” Michael said icily. “Your child is a bastard in the eyes of society and the law.”

  Thomas flinched then dropped his forehead in his palms, his elbows resting on his thighs. “I promised her I would marry her,” he said in a tortured voice. “I loved her.”

  “Why did you not come to me when you learned of her delicate state?”

  A derisive laugh came from his brother. “Would you have given your blessing?”

  “Do you really need it to marry a woman you said you loved…and one who carried your child?”

  Thomas was silent for a very long time, and Michael waited, granting him space to untangle his thoughts.

  “No, I suppose that should be the last thing I should have been worried about. I…” he lifted his face from his palms. “When she told me, I was frightened. In the history of our family, no-one has married a lady with such unimportant connections and fortune. I went to my home and drank myself into a stupor for days. When my head was clear I felt certain I wanted to be with Lucy, I went to the park. She was not there. I hoped she would be there.”

  Michael took the letter from his pocket, placed it atop his desk, and pushed it toward his brother. “She waited for you in that park for several days.”

  Thomas reached for it and read it. At one point, he flinched, and as he refolded it and placed it in his pocket, his hand trembled.

  “You told her you were Viscount Worsley.”

  His brother flushed, shame darkening his eyes. “I…I took her here one night, and I had wanted her to believe I was more important than a second son. She had the liveliest sense of humor, but after a few hours together, I still could not bear to tell her it was my older brother who held the title.”

  “You were a damn fool and a blackguard,” Michael said without mercy. “Now there is a four-month old child in my home. What do you intend to do?”

  “I cannot afford for a word of this to reach Lord Kenwood. It would be an embarrassment to the earl’s family and to Lady Sarah. Our wedding is in five months, and I want to avoid a scandal.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “George found himself in a similar situation a few months back with his mistress.”

  George was Lord Sutton, a young viscount who had a reckless heart for racing and was his brother closest friend.

  “His lady dove gave birth to his child a few months’ ago. They placed in her the most appropriate orphanage. Society is none the wiser about it, and the place is very tip-top, and the child will receive a proper education.”

  “And you wish to do the same with Elizabeth?”

  A flash of surprise and wonder crossed his brother's face. “It is a girl then.”

  To that, Michael made no reply, and his brother asked, “Do you know where Lucy was all this time?”

  “You did not know
?”

  “No. If I knew I would like to believe I would have chased Lucy and asked her father for her hand. But that is in the past now, and I am now engaged. All the announcements have been made and…” Thomas stopped speaking.

  “She lives in disgrace in Wiltshire with her family. She is not permitted to keep the child. Her father also wished to place Elizabeth in an orphanage.”

  Thomas swallowed. “Many people have left their by-blows in the care of such an establishment. They have done so for years.”

  In his brother’s eyes, he saw guilt and deep shame.

  “You could also claim her.”

  Thomas winced. “The scandal would be rife throughout the ton. And Lady Sarah does not deserve such speculations into her life. She is a very genteel lady and tends to swoon at the slightest provocation.”

  “You will also make provision for Miss Lucy discreetly. A cottage, at least four bedrooms, and a yearly portion that will see her living comfortably.” Michael could easily settle the matter himself, but Thomas needed to face some of the responsibility for his dishonor. “Meet with our solicitor immediately and see it done.”

  Michael stood. “The child will stay in my care until further notice.”

  His brother stared at him in astonishment. “Why?”

  A bite of anger curled through him. “Because she is your daughter and my niece.”

  Thomas flushed and looked away but made no reply.

  “I’ve hired Doris Chambers to be her wet nurse.”

  Thomas's eyes widened. “The widow who works downstairs serving drinks?”

  Doris had given birth to her own child four months’ ago and had always seemed discomfited to work in the club. But desperate to provide for her family of three children she had plodded onward. She had been pleased when he had extended the offer earlier and had made her way to his town home with instructions. “Yes.”

  Thomas's lips parted as if he would dare to think to question Michael’s decision but clearly thought better of it.

  “Thank you, Michael,” he said gruffly.

  He opened the door for his brother to depart. “I did not do it for you, never deceive yourself into believing that.”

  Shockingly that was the truth. Miss Ashbrook’s wide wounded eyes which had been filled with such anxiety and fear for her niece’s care and safety had been the primary reason Michael had decided an orphanage would never do, even the best of them. Many in society cast their bastards away with little care to their upbringing. Gentlemen were judged to be crass and vulgar if they claimed their by-blows, and many hid their children in orphanages. He believed if he had informed Miss Ashbrook he would take Elizabeth to such a home, she would have contrived to run away with the child and do everything in her power to care for her. To his way of thinking, if she had been able to do that, she would never have approached an unprincipled libertine like himself for his assistance.

  He had hovered yesterday, like a dark shadow, watching as she had boiled milk and water and dribbled it with a handkerchief for Lizzie to suck on. The care Miss Ashbrook had taken when she bathed her and then put her down to sleep, softly singing to her. Her love had been painful to observe, and he had melted away to his chamber savagely cursing the delightful Miss Ashbrook for bravely daring to live in his lair.

  He would eventually take her and damn them both to hell, his resistance to her allure was very fragile. He had been trying to drive from his mind how much she enflamed his body. Having found himself repeatedly reacting to the sight of her tending his beautiful tiny niece. His self-control had never troubled him with such force before. Michael closed the door firmly behind his brother’s exit and pressed his forehead to the door. No…I’ll not seduce her. I am not ruled by my damn cock as if I was an untried boy. He would not be a man ruled by any vice, even that of fornication. He was nothing like his father who had lost his fortune at the gambling tables and who had so despaired of living without wealth and his favorite estate, that he had killed himself without thought for his two young sons or his loving wife.

  A sharp hiss escaped him, and he ruthlessly disciplined all the fire of lust and strange emotions twisting inside until they were quashed back down and no longer troubled his thoughts. While he was a man of strong appetites, he had never given himself over to any vice, and he would not start now. The situation might be laughable if his cock didn’t ache so much.

  Opening the door, he paused to see Laura sauntering toward him, dressed in a very provocative red gown with a very revealing neckline. Nothing stirred within him, and he frowned.

  “Michael darling,” she said, pressing her body against his and twining her hand around his neck. She trailed a sharp nail across his cheek and down into his neckcloth.

  He untangled himself from her arms, “Laura, we will not be lovers.”

  Her lips parted in shock. Possibly that had been too blunt and badly done by him, but his patience was at an end.

  A petulant pout settled on her lips. “I was naked in your drawing room yesterday!”

  “And we were interrupted.”

  Her eyes flashed with anger…and once again with a challenge. Whispers had started to make the rounds that he hadn’t had a lover in a while. Instead of the mockery he expected, ladies anticipated being the one to break his dry spell. They had dug into their arsenal of seductive wiles and had been competing to be the one who would succeed in seducing him. To become the Viscount Wicked’s mistress, even if not acknowledged as such, had a certain cachet worth fighting to achieve.

  He knew his reputation as a lover had been secretly whispered about and he had been slightly amused to discover that he was considered inventive and superbly depraved. Yesterday he had contemplated taking Laura to his bed. She had been the boldest of the coterie, she had shown up at his home, and in the middle of taking refreshments closed the door to the drawing-room and started to undress. Her boldness and creativity had momentarily captivated him, but by the time she had taken off her stockings, he had been bored. Miss Ashbrook’s barging into his house had been a timely intervention.

  “Is it because of that mousey—”

  “Do not dare,” he interjected with icy civility. “I assure you would not like being the brunt of my displeasure.”

  The viscountess hesitated, flushing slightly.

  “If you will allow me to escort you to the lower floors,” he said, holding out his arm.

  Though her lips pinched in annoyance, she accepted. She forced a glittering smile as they made their way down into the laughter, chatter, smoke, and general debauchery which no longer had the power to entice him to play.

  Chapter 6

  The faint creak of a floorboard had Marianne sitting up in bed and clutching the sheet to her throat. She listened for a few more moments, then released a slow breath. This was her third night under the wicked viscount’s roof, and she was finding it just as difficult falling asleep as it had been yesterday and the day before.

  The viscount’s townhouse had a stone façade and climbed four stories above the lower ground floor. It was very grand and tastefully furnished. The lower floors held a large and elegantly appointed drawing-room, a smaller parlor stylishly decorated, a breath-taking library, a palatial music room, the viscount’s study, and an impressive ballroom that opened onto small gardens. Lizzie would be quite happy growing up in this home, and Marianne imagined his country estates were even grander.

  A fire blazed in the hearth, and the exquisite chamber she had been assigned was delightfully warm. Marianne felt wretched and elated to be in the viscount’s town home. To be so near to Lizzie every day should be such a wonderful joy, but deceiving her family haunted her thoughts. She’d convinced herself it was proper, for she was gainfully employed, and it was quite common for female employees and servants to work for an unmarried gentleman without undue speculation.

  She told herself society would truly never think for a moment, something improper might happen. It was too inconceivable that a gentleman would dally with so
meone so far below him in station. Marianne was not so sure that they would consider living under Viscount Worsley’s roof so innocent. The man had a reputation for wicked debauchery and she feared there might be some whispering about her presence in his household. Especially as Elizabeth might be believed to be her own. How had Lucy believed this man would have married her? Upon the heel of that thought, an even deeper discomfort curled through her.

  The viscount had denied that he was the father, and for a moment, she had believed him. Marianne closed her eyes briefly, cursing her naïveté, before pushing the sheet from her body and scrambling from the bed. It was pointless to remain in bed and drive herself mad with questions she had no answers to or worried about them, for they would still be present in the morning.

  A good book was what she needed to help her to sleep, and the cursory tour she had been given by the housekeeper had shown a very large and wonderfully stocked library on the second floor. She donned her wrapper, took up a candlestick, then opened the door. Her footsteps were silent as she headed down the hall, toward the chamber Lizzie shared with Doris, the nursemaid the viscount had procured in one afternoon. She was a plain-looking but quite amiable young widow, she had an infant of her own that was still quite young and seemed to have already fallen in love with Lizzie. Marianne had been impressed with his efficiency but hadn’t been able to find it in her heart to praise the man. Pushing open the door carefully, Marianne crept forward and peered down into the crib. Her niece slept on her stomach, her tiny hand pillowed beneath her rosy cheek.

  A dart of hunger quivered through her heart, and she tenderly tugged the blanket higher over the baby. Before Lizzie had been born, Marianne hadn’t given much thought to her future or to having a family of her own. Though Mama had spoken fondly of her hopes that Marianne would marry a gentleman from the small town, no-one had captured her heart or attention. The local doctor had called upon her a few times, and they had taken several walks together, but he had left her frightfully uninspired.