When he finally found his voice, he rolled over on his back and gazed into her troubled eyes. “For my sake, and yours, you have to . . . I am sorry. I am too much of a coward to go through that again.”
She inhaled a deep breath. “No, Hugo. I am sorry. My mother gave birth to nine healthy children. With or without you, I will bear this child. It is the thing I have longed for most in the world.”
A groan tore up from his chest. “Is there nothing I can say?”
She shook her head. “And do not for a moment think I am going to marry the Duke of Vale.”
He pushed the hair back from her face, stared into her midnight eyes, and saw she’d been crying. He’d made her cry, when all he wanted was for her to be happy. He imagined her managing alone, as she’d done all these past months. Even if her family supported her, the thought of her giving birth to his child filled him with terror. While it seemed as if she faced the future, the unknown, with stunning calm. “You leave me no option.”
Her back stiffened a little.
“Lucinda. I love you. I will not let you suffer alone. Will you marry me?”
She gasped and buried her face in his shoulder.
“Will you?” he asked again, knowing he was grinning like a mad fool, despite the fearful thunder in his heart.
“Yes. Yes.” She raised her head and kissed his mouth, his cheek, his chin. “Yes.”
“It is going to be hell.”
She choked on what sounded like a cross between a laugh and a sob. “It will be fine, I promise.”
A rap sounded at the door. They stared at each other. Exhausted, unable to face another human soul. Hugo glanced at the window, no sign of dawn. Too early for the maid to make up the fire, and besides, she wouldn’t knock.
“Quiet. Perhaps they will leave,” he said. It seemed he was right. The knock didn’t come again.
He pulled her against his shoulder and inhaled the scent of her hair, lavender and lovely woman. “I love you.” He rolled the words over his tongue, and they tasted of honey. “I love you.”
She grabbed his jaw, turning him so she could see his face. “You are getting very good at saying that. Perhaps I shall reward you.”
He grinned. “What did you have in mind?”
Another knock, louder, more insistent. “My lord?”
Trent.
“My lord, there’s a gentleman downstairs to see you. He won’t take no for an answer.”
“Who is it?”
“A Lieutenant Armitage. The Tenth.”
“Geoffrey?” Lucinda squeaked. “My brother?”
“Damnation. Now we are in the suds.” He leaped out of bed, avoiding the broken glass, and grabbed his robe and slippers.
By the time he had them on, Lucinda had slipped into her chemise and gown. “I am coming with you.”
“Not a good idea, sweet. He might shoot me the moment he lays eyes on you fresh from my bed. I would like a chance to explain.” She glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the hearth and saw with pride that she looked thoroughly well loved, her mouth swollen from his kisses and her hair tumbled.
“No. You don’t know Geoffrey,” she said. “He is my closest brother. It will be better if I speak to him.”
He sighed. “Stubborn wench. Very well, I will stand behind you.”
She chuckled.
More knocks. Louder than before. “My lord. He threatened to come up here and break down the door if you aren’t downstairs in five minutes.”
Hugo threw open the door. “We are coming.”
Trent recoiled a step at the sight of Lucinda. With a shake of his head, he turned and headed downstairs.
Hand in hand, they followed. Lucinda bit her lip. How wonderful that Geoffrey was here, and how awkward that he’d arrived to find her in bed with her lover. Her future husband, she amended. Her heart gave a joyful jump.
“I put him in the library, my lord,” Trent said. “He seems like a rather hotheaded young gentleman. Cavalry. Jevens is still recovering in the kitchen with a brandy.”
“Threatened him, did he?” Hugo said grimly.
“That doesn’t sound like Geoffrey,” Lucinda said.
“You probably haven’t seen him when his sister’s honor is at stake, my love. Let me do the talking.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but opened the library door and stepped in.
Magnificent in his cavalry blue coat, the fur-edged pelisse hanging from one shoulder, Geoffrey stood in front of the hearth. He had his hat under his arm in true military style. Since she saw him last, he seemed to have filled out. He was almost as large as Father and heavier set than Hugo.
He glared at Hugo, his cheeks ruddy with good health and more than a smidgeon of anger. “Good of you to see me, Wanstead.” Then his gaze fell on Lucinda, eyes widening, mouth dropping open. “Dear God, you are here. How could you, after all the worry you have caused us?”
“What?” she said, shocked and hurt by the critical words from the brother to whom she felt closest. “Who do you think you are coming here and telling me what I should or should not do?”
He rocked back on his heels, his mouth open.
Well, she had never been quite so forceful before.
Hugo put up a placating hand. “Leave this to me, Lucinda.” He turned to Geoffrey. “I know this looks bad, but I have asked your sister to marry me.”
Geoffrey dropped into the closest chair and ran a hand through light brown waves. “Thank God for that. I don’t know what I would have said if I’d had to give Mother this story.”
“How did you find me?” Lucinda asked
“Miss Dawson.”
Lucinda narrowed her eyes.
“I forced it out of her,” Geoffrey said hurriedly. “I threatened a bit of murder and mayhem when no one at the Hall could tell me where you were, and she came clean.”
Hugo put a careful arm around her shoulders and guided her to a couch. The gentle way he helped her to sit made her heart ache. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”
Geoffrey stared at her. “What is wrong?”
“I’m carrying a child.”
Her brother leaped to his feet. “What?” he thundered.
“Oh, for God’s sake, sit down,” Hugo said. “We are getting married.”
“Tell him about Mother, Geoffrey,” Lucinda urged. “About how she has children like popping a cork out of a bottle and I am sure to be just like her.”
Geoffrey’s jaw dropped.
“How large were you when you were born?” Hugo asked.
“I don’t recall.”
Lucinda threw a pillow at his head.
“Pax. All right. Huge, according to our nurse. Why?”
“Hugo is afraid I will die in childbirth.”
Geoffrey started to look a bit green about the gills.
She threw her arms around Hugo’s waist and burrowed her head against his warm, comforting chest. He hesitated, then ran his hands down her back, stroking her hair.
“Tell him about Brandon, Geoffrey,” she urged. “And how is he, by the way, and the girls? Are Father and Mother all right?”
Geoffrey put up a staying hand. “One question at a time, please. Everyone is in good health, but worried about you.”
“And Brandon?”
Geoffrey looked a little somber. “He seems fine. I’m really not sure he is cut out for the army.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Lucinda said. “Tell him about when Brandon was born.” She turned to Hugo. “Brandon is our youngest brother. He was enormous, according to Mother.”
Geoffrey nodded. “He’s taller than me. Our Mother is no lightweight, mind you. She couldn’t be with a papa as big as ours.”
“I am just like my mother,” Lucinda added.
Hugo shook his head. “It would kill me to stand around and watch you die.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Then we would both be dead, and it would not matter one jot to either of us.”
“Lucinda. That is sacr
ilegious.” He sounded horrified, but there was the start of a smile on his lips and a gleam of hope amid the panic in his eyes.
Her heart settled down to a steady rhythm. It seemed that things might just work out all right if she could keep him calm. He folded her into his embrace, kissing her long and hard with a passion she thought she’d lost forever. When at length he came up for a breath, he stared down at her with a smile. “God, love, what did I do to deserve someone like you?”
“You are a good man, and I love you. I am glad we found one another.”
His face grew serious, and he looked over at Geoffrey, who was silently studying the toe of his boot. “I assume your father will give his permission.”
A corner of Geoffrey’s mouth kicked up. “Said he’d kill you if you didn’t. He’s at the inn with Vale.”
“Good God,” Hugo said.
“How is Vale?” Lucinda asked.
“He’ll survive,” Geoffrey said, and he gave her a look that said he didn’t mean his wound.
She looked into her heart and found that she had never been the slightest bit attracted to Vale, even before he lured her husband into his orbit. “Do you think I could have a cup of tea?” She put a hand to her stomach, feeling just a little faint. “And a biscuit?”
Hugo suddenly looked anxious. “Do you want to lie down? Put your feet up?”
“No, Hugo. Do not start treating me like an invalid. I simply want something to eat.”
He took a deep breath. “God, I hope you are right.” She jabbed him with her elbow.
“Right. Tea and biscuits it is. By the way, just who is the father of that beautiful daughter of yours?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Geoffrey said, frowning.
Lucinda laughed at their suspicious expressions. “Soon to be Hugo’s daughter, too. And quite honestly, I have no idea. I found her.”
“That sounds like a story for another occasion,” Geoffrey said.
“Yes,” Hugo agreed. “Trent?” he called out
Trent popped his head inside immediately. “Everything all right, my lord?”
“Everything is fine. Wonderful. Please bring tea for the next Countess of Wanstead.”
The young man grinned. “Right away, my lord. And may I offer you my congratulations?”
Epilogue
The warm summer sun made Lucinda feel far too lazy to do anything about the handkerchief she had brought outside to embroider. The last of the six, it had the H already snuggled up against the L. It just needed its sprig of heart’s ease to be finished. And besides, Marmalade had decided her lap made the perfect place to take a nap the moment she cut her first length of silk.
She lay back against the cushions, gazed at the clear blue sky from beneath her parasol and let the throaty call of doves and the scent of new-mown lawn carry her on a cloud of contentment.
A snuffle from the direction of the wicker basket at her side propelled her upright. “Belderone, get your nose out of there!”
The lurcher tucked his tail between his legs and stared at her with melting eyes and laidback ears.
“I know, you weren’t going to hurt him, but I only just got him to sleep. What with you and his father always poking him to make sure he is real, I’m surprised the child ever sleeps at all.”
She pulled back the soft blue blanket and stared at her son’s square head and mop of dark hair. Fast asleep, he looked just like Hugo, except for his nose. The poor little fellow definitely had inherited the Armitage proboscis. It suited him. She smiled.
A squeal from the paddock made her look up to see Sophia flying over a log on the back of her pony. Lucinda leaped to her feet, scattering Marmalade, her parasol and the handkerchief, only to realize Hugo had the horse firmly on a leading rein.
Marmalade gave her a stare of disgust and stalked off, tail up, toward the house, no doubt in search of Annie.
Her heart slowly sank from her throat to its rightful place. She dropped to her knees beside Jonathan Geoffrey Hugo Malbury, the new Viscount LeFroy. “I hope you aren’t going to frighten me like that when you grow up,” she said, tickling his cheek. “You certainly terrified your father enough the day you were born.” Thank heaven Mother had arrived to offer support or poor Hugo might have put a bullet in his brain before the end of the night. “Next time it will be so much easier. Do you want a brother or a sister?” She patted her stomach. “We won’t tell your father just yet, if you are a good boy.”
The bubble he blew from pursed lips did nothing to reassure her that he would be any less wild than his sister.
“My lady,” Jevens called out. Lucinda turned toward the house to find the butler plodding down the terrace steps with three men in his wake, one of them in a blue uniform with flashing gold braid.
“It’s Geoffrey,” she told the sleeping Jonathan. “Safe and sound.”
Hugo must have also seen the visitors, because he had left Sophia with Trent and was striding toward her from the paddock, fastening the buttons of his coat as he went.
“His grace, the Duke of Vale, Captain Armitage, and Mr. Arthur Dawson, my lady,” Jevens said. He spoiled the solemn announcement with a wink.
“Thank you, Jevens. Please ask Mrs. Dunning to send tea out onto the terrace in half an hour.”
Jevens bowed and shuffled off.
“Lady Wanstead,” Vale said. “Please don’t get up on our account.”
Lucinda held out her hand. “Your grace, how good of you to call. Geoffrey, how wonderful to see you, and congratulations on your promotion. I had no idea you were home.”
“Dispatches from Wellington. Pleas for more weapons and recruits. I bumped into Vale at Horse Guards and he offered to drive me down for the afternoon.”
Lucinda smiled at the languid nobleman and noted the cool reserve in his gray eyes with a flash of sorrow. “It was kind of you, your grace. I know I speak for Hugo when I say you are always welcome.”
“You are very gracious, my lady. You remember Mr. Dawson?” His grace gestured with long elegant fingers.
Lucinda nodded. “Mr. Dawson.”
Arthur Dawson winced at her chilly tone. So he should. He had no right to expect a welcome in her home. He had broken his word to Hugo.
Geoffrey hunkered down beside Jonathon’s basket and peeked in. “How is my nephew doing?”
“Very well indeed,” Lucinda said.
“Now there is a nose to be proud of, Vale,” Geoffrey said. “Look at it.”
Vale leaned forward and gave a sage if distant nod. “Very fine indeed.”
Geoffrey chucked the sleeping viscount under the chin and stood as Hugo came up to the group.
“Vale,” Hugo said. “Armitage.” He shook hands with both men. His eyes narrowed as he turned to greet Arthur. He merely nodded. “Dawson.”
“Blast it, Hugo,” Arthur said. “Do you have to be so dashed stiff?”
“I think it is time we cleared the air,” Vale said.
“The air would be a good bit clearer if Dawson took himself off,” Hugo replied.
Arthur glowered at him. “Hear Vale out, and if you are still of a mind to throw me out, so be it.”
“I’m of a mind to throw you in the duck pond,” Hugo said.
“Hugo,” Lucinda said. “Don’t be rude. His grace is trying to tell you something.”
Vale blessed her with one of his elegant bows. “Thank you, Lady Wanstead. Your kindness overwhelms my humble soul.”
“Get on with it, Vale.” Hugo’s voice held a dangerous edge and a little shiver went down Lucinda’s back. Nothing like a little jealousy to send blood tingling through her veins.
Vale chuckled softly, as if he had read her mind. “Remember how you thought it was Dawson here who let the cat out of the bag and told Denbigh where to find Lady Wanstead?”
“There wasn’t anyone else it could have been,” Hugo said with a glare at Arthur.
“There was,” Vale said. “I ran into her last week. A Miss Abbott. Apparently she bumped
into Denbigh in Bond Street and quite by chance mentioned the talented and somewhat . . . buxom archer staying at the vicarage who had beaten her at a contest in Kent. Denbigh gnawed at her like a dog with a bone until he got all the details, then jumped in a post chaise.”
“I didn’t know Lady Wanstead had gone to the vicarage,” Arthur put in.
“No, you didn’t,” Lucinda said. She stared at Hugo, who appeared to be thunderstruck.
He offered his hand. “It seems as if I owe you an apology, Arthur.”
The young man let go a long breath. “I don’t care about that,” he said and pumped Hugo’s hand. “I just want us to be friends like before. I have some wonderful news. My uncle bought me a commission in the army.”
“Oh, my word. What did your mother say about that?” Lucinda asked.
“Oh, she’s so busy dreaming of weddings for Catherine now that the vicar has finally popped the question, I don’t think my news has quite sunk in. Hopefully, by the time it does, I will be on a ship to Lisbon.”
“Take care of yourself, young fellow,” Hugo said.
Arthur looked down at his shoes and then cast a diffident glance at Hugo. “I was hoping you could give me a few pointers.”
“Be glad to. Come to the library. I have some maps there and my diaries. I probably have a spare groundsheet somewhere, too. Coming, Vale?”
“No, I’ll stay here and keep Lady Wanstead company.”
Geoffrey slung his arm through one of Hugo’s. “I’ll come, if you promise me one of those fine cigars you had the last time I was here.”
“Brothers-in-law,” Hugo muttered and clapped Arthur on the back.
“So,” Vale said when the others were out of hearing. “All is well that ends well.”
Still smarting at how she had misjudged him, she gave him a shy smile. “And what about you? Are there happy endings on your horizon?”
A shadow darkened the steely gaze, despite the smile. “Given my penchant for traveling, Lady Wanstead, it seems highly unlikely.”
“We would not have suited, you know. Your wit is far too acerbic for someone as kind as me. I would have been constantly apologizing for your cutting remarks.”
“Oh, dear lady, don’t think I am pining away. Quite the contrary. And who knows where a man will find his soul mate. I doubt Hugo expected to find you living on his estate.”
The Lady Flees Her Lord Page 32
