Wedded for His Secret Child

by Helen Dickson

  Without a word he strode towards the house ahead of her, his long legs eating up the ground with considerable speed. Melissa followed at a slower pace, her nerves a jangled mass of discordant vibrations. She was reluctant to face what awaited her inside when Laurence had introduced himself to her parents as their daughter’s seducer, father of Violet, and told them whatever it was he intended to do.

  It was no fault of his that he hadn’t been aware of Violet’s birth. Had she known his full identity and where he lived, she would have notified him, but this had not been the case. However, now he did know it was to his credit that he wanted to rectify matters, but, she couldn’t help wondering, where did she fit into his order of things?

  The door was opened by the white-haired Bradley, an old retainer whose duties were butler, her father’s valet, carriage driver, general servant and anything else when there was a job to be done.

  Melissa strode in ahead of Laurence. ‘Are my parents in the drawing room, Bradley?’

  ‘They are, Miss Melissa,’ Bradley confirmed, glancing curiously at her companion. ‘Shall I announce you?’

  ‘Good heavens, no. They know to expect a visitor. I’ll announce myself and...’

  She turned and lifted a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘Lord Laurence Maxwell, the Earl of Winchcombe,’ he obliged with a twinkle in his eye, as if to humour her.

  Melissa raised her eyebrows even further. ‘My word!’ she breathed. ‘An Earl! Now, that will impress my mother. Please come with me. The sooner we get this over with the better—although you must prepare yourself for my mother’s temper. Papa is a gentle soul, but Mother is a different matter entirely. Woe betide anyone who gets on the wrong side of her. Is that not so, Bradley?’

  ‘If you say so, Miss Melissa,’ he replied, prepared to agree to anything she said.

  Laurence’s face hardened. ‘Lead the way—and thank you for the warning.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. It’s best that you are forewarned.’

  Melissa marched towards the drawing room and without ceremony opened the door. She existed in a state of jarring tension as she fought to appear calm, clinging to her composure as best she could as the dreaded moment when she would have to introduce Laurence to her parents came closer. Her father, small, stout and always rumpled looking, was reading a paper in his favourite chair by the fire, his feet propped up on the brass fender, while her mother sat drinking tea. On seeing Melissa followed by a tall gentleman, she took a sip from her teacup and set it down, dabbed her lips with a cloth napkin and then rose to greet the visitor with a smile. The Baroness was a formidable middle-aged woman, slender to the point of being thin, with sculpted cheekbones and as regal a nose as one would ever see.

  ‘Why, Melissa. I was beginning to wonder where you could have got to.’ Her eyes went beyond her to the gentleman with interest. ‘Our visitor has arrived, I see. Aren’t you going to introduce us to the gentleman, my dear?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, juggling Violet in her arms, who was straining her neck to see the man who appeared to have made such an impact on her. She looked at Laurence, who looked completely relaxed, yet there was an undeniable aura of forcefulness about him, of power. ‘This is Laurence Maxwell—Violet’s father.’ She turned to Laurence. ‘I would like to introduce my parents.’

  The silence that fell was complete. Dispelling the prolonged silence, Laurence stepped forward with a respectful bow of his head.

  ‘I am Lord Laurence Alexander Maxwell, the Earl of Winchcombe. My home is Winchcombe Hall in Surrey. I realise my appearance will come as something of a shock to you both, but you must believe me when I say that, had I known of your daughter’s situation, I would have come before now. I would understand your reluctance to admit me into your home. I am a stranger to you and have done nothing that entitles me to an acknowledgement from you. I came upon your daughter by chance while out riding yesterday.’

  Remembering his manners, with a stony expression on his face the Baron stepped forward, unsure how to greet this visitor—a titled gentleman who had ruined his beloved daughter—but he considered it necessary to be amiable if the man was to offer reparation. He executed a stiff bow.

  ‘Baron Charles Frobisher at your service.’ He looked at the illustrious visitor closely. ‘Is it correct what Melissa has told us—that you are Violet’s father?’

  ‘Apparently that is the case.’

  ‘Well,’ the Baroness said, not quite sure how to receive the man who had seduced her daughter—a handsome one at that and an earl to boot—but she managed to hold on to her composure. She held her head high as she considered him coolly. ‘I cannot deny that it was indeed a surprise when Melissa told us she had met you and that you intended to call on us. Naturally my husband and I are interested to hear your reason for coming here now. When I recall your less than gentlemanly treatment of Melissa on your previous encounter, you must forgive me if I appear somewhat bemused by your presence. When gentlemen find their indiscretions have landed them in hot water, they usually take to the hills rather than face up to their responsibilities.’

  Hearing the sharp, patronising voice, Laurence was already regretting having come to her, yet he was impressed by this woman who had managed to keep her wits and composure despite the circumstances. Any other woman would have either gone to pieces or flown at him in anger for the ruination of her daughter.

  ‘I suspect your feelings have run to something stronger than bemusement, Baroness, and all things considered I cannot say that I blame you. However, I am not one to shirk my responsibilities and I trust you will have the goodness to hear me out.’

  ‘Indeed! You certainly owe my daughter that consideration after what you have done. If you’d had an ounce of common decency—whether she was a servant or noblewoman—you would not have done what you did. You ruined her—a decent, vulnerable girl.’

  ‘I’m not proud of myself, which is why I am here now—to make amends.’

  ‘Well, I have to say that I am relieved not to have to plead for her salvation from the man who destroyed any chance she had of making a decent marriage,’ the Baroness said.

  ‘I cannot do more than humbly apologise for my conduct and offer recompense.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ Melissa interjected with a frown, hoisting her wriggling daughter to her shoulder. ‘I was equally to blame. What happened between us was by mutual consent, so please do not think you have to make any recompense.’

  He looked at her intently. Yes, she had been willing. It was what they had both wanted. He’d felt it in her supple body, in its yielding, which had melted in that certain way women had when they were ready to take what they wanted, knowing what it was he had to offer. But she had been so young, a mere girl, really, and therefore she was absolved of all blame.

  ‘But I do. I did you a great discourtesy for which I ask your pardon. What I did was inexcusable. It was unpardonable of me. You are very beautiful—sweet...but I know that is no excuse. The fault was undoubtedly all mine. I cannot leave without coming to an arrangement with you.’

  ‘An arrangement,’ the Baron said quickly. ‘Kindly explain what you mean by that.’

  Melissa was looking at him directly, holding his gaze with her own. Not one of his servants would look at him so, for her look was telling him that she could read his mind, that she knew what he had come for, what he wanted and the answer was no. Still holding her daughter, she moved closer to him, holding herself straight as she glared at him.

  ‘I know what it is you want,’ she said, her voice shaking with anger. ‘You want Violet for yourself, don’t you? You want to take her away from me. Indeed, I know I am right and I can tell you now that you are wasting your time. Have you any idea what it would do to her—to suddenly have her mother disappear from her life for no other reason than that you want her for yourself? Have you any idea how selfish that makes you appear? Yo
u have no right. She belongs to me. I will not allow you to take her.’

  ‘She is my daughter,’ he said with an inbred arrogance and certainty that said it would do no good to argue with him. ‘If that was what I wanted, I would have every right.’

  ‘I will not part with her. Don’t you dare ask that of me. Had you told me of your intentions yesterday it would have saved you a visit to my home, wasting both your time and mine. What is it you intend, to buy her?—because if so I will tell you now that I don’t want your money. There isn’t enough money in the world that could buy my daughter.’

  ‘You do realise that I could take Violet away from you by law, but that would mean exposing us all to publicity and I don’t believe that either of us want that.’ It was true, Laurence did not want that—not after the damning, shaming publicity he had been forced to endure when his wife and son had died. He turned to the Baron and his wife. ‘Do you have anything to say?’

  Melissa watched her parents, knowing exactly what her mother was thinking, that if he were to offer them money for Violet it would enable them to live well, as never before. The house, which was in such a miserable state of repair, could be done up at long last and the Baroness would be able to buy the latest fashions when she went to town, which she hadn’t been able to afford for more years than she could remember. But knowing how her mother had become deeply attached to her beautiful granddaughter and knowing how Melissa doted on her, she was confident that her mother would support her in her decision.

  For just a moment, the softening of the Baroness’s face indicated that she might be tempted if he were to offer significant recompense and persuade her daughter to see sense, as money always won, until the Baron spoke up.

  ‘Violet will not leave this house,’ he said firmly. ‘My daughter is right when she says there isn’t enough money in the world that could buy her. Life has not been easy for Melissa, I grant you—and Violet’s birth has created its own gossip in the neighbourhood—but she has weathered the worst of it and I am proud of her. Violet is my granddaughter and this is her home for as long as Melissa wants it to be, so let there be no more talk of you taking her away. Violet will not leave this house without my consent.’

  Chapter Two

  Melissa gave her father a grateful look and went to stand by his side. She was unable to think, unable to feel. How could Laurence ask her to give up Violet? If that was indeed what he wanted. Of course she wouldn’t hear of it. She would never let him take her daughter away from her. She couldn’t believe how besotted she had been on her first encounter with him—it felt as if her life had started to go wrong the day she met him and she was beginning to realise how naive, how stupid she had been to keep his memory alive all these months, calling herself all kinds of a fool for her unrealistic illusions. Despite the intimacy of their previous encounter he was still a stranger to her. Now she had become reacquainted with him and seen his arrogance and authoritarian manner, getting to know him better held little interest for her now. Though a small vestige of pain still lingered, she no longer felt foolish, she felt free, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  ‘I don’t think there is anything further to say,’ she said, hoping the matter was resolved. ‘If you do not have a wife, then perhaps you should get one—one who is prepared to give you a child.’

  Something dark shifted in Laurence’s eyes, but his face remained expressionless. ‘I am a widower. My wife died in unfortunate circumstances almost three years ago.’

  Melissa stared at him. His reply affected her deeply and it was strange that at that moment she should feel regret that she couldn’t help him—unless, of course, he were to offer her marriage, which wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility if he had no ties and really did wish to do his best for Violet. There was a fleeting look in his eyes, an expression of loss she couldn’t begin to understand. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

  ‘How could you? The worry of it is that a child was the result of our brief coming together and I cannot ignore that fact. I cannot walk away. In which case, if I want to be a part of my daughter’s life—and I do, passionately—then there is only one course open to me. You are mistaken if you thought I wanted to take Violet from you. You were too ready to jump to the wrong conclusion. It is my wish to have my daughter close to me, but I would not dream of parting her from her mother. That would be a despicable act I could not condone. I have seen how it is with you when you look at Violet. I admire the way you prepared yourself in advance to openly give birth to an illegitimate child and I know you are fiercely protective of her and would not be prepared to let her go under any circumstances.’

  ‘No, I would not. Then what is it you want?’ Melissa asked.

  ‘The offer I would like to make includes you, Melissa.’

  ‘Oh—I see.’

  Laurence captured her eyes. ‘I want Violet with me. If it means marrying her mother, then that is how it will be,’ he said, confirming Melissa’s fears that Violet was all that mattered to him. Shifting his eyes to the Baron and his wife, he said, ‘I am willing to marry your daughter. If it is acceptable to you, then you have my guarantee that she will be supported in a manner suitable to her upbringing and want for nothing.’

  The Baroness’s lips stretched into a smile. ‘How extremely generous of you, Lord Maxwell. Naturally my husband and I will be happy to agree to a marriage between you and Melissa.’

  Melissa stared from Laurence to her parents and back to Laurence, unable to believe what she was hearing. He was offering to marry her. That was what he had said. But why did he have to sound so dispassionate about it? She tried to block out the images of their meeting in the Spring Gardens from her mind, but it was no use. They paraded across her mind, tormenting her with vivid images of a star-struck, infatuated girl, mindlessly besotted by a handsome stranger.

  She saw herself gazing up at him like a doe-eyed girl, thinking he was the most wonderfully handsome man she had ever seen and had fallen instantly in love with him. And when he had taken her in his arms she had almost swooned as her feelings and emotions got the better of her. How nauseating it all seemed to her now as the wonderful afterglow of their passionate union finally went out. She felt anger and frustration rising within her like a hot tide. This man had intruded into her life and her mother were talking as if she had no say in the matter whatsoever.

  ‘Please do not discuss my future as if I am not in the room, Lord Maxwell. I have not agreed to any of this, yet you appear to have decided my future without even asking me what it is I might want. You cannot expect me to simply do as I am told just because you are accustomed to having people do your bidding, so please don’t use my daughter to manipulate me. I do not want to marry you.’

  Laurence could not have been more surprised if it had been the dog which had spoken. She still dared to argue, but it was in him to agree with her. ‘Forgive me. I am only acting in the best interest of the child.’ He crossed to where she stood and looked down into her turbulent face. Her eyes were glowing as her temper rose.

  ‘I gave birth to Violet without you,’ Melissa went on, ‘and yet suddenly here you are, full of good intentions. You have decided to marry me because it’s the only way you can get your hands on Violet. I am obliged to you, but you have no right to inflict your authority on me. I have no doubt that you are used to instructing people to do your bidding and having every expectation it will be done.’

  ‘Then you must excuse me for I cannot alter the habits of a lifetime.’

  ‘I would not ask you to.’

  ‘Good, because I am what I am. Take it or leave it.’

  ‘Since I am given a choice, I will leave it, my lord. I am not stupid. I know it is not because you care for me that has prompted you to ask me to be your wife—not even pity or guilt—that it is only Violet you want.’

  He shook his head. She was right. He would not insult her intelligence by denyin
g that and, as proud as she was, her pride would make her oppose him. ‘I care enough about you to be hurt and angry by the appalling way you have been treated by your neighbours. You do not deserve that.’

  ‘No, I don’t—and I thank you for your concern. Your honourable nature is to be applauded, but you don’t have to feel under any obligation to marry me.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  Melissa’s chin lifted and she glared at him. ‘I told you I do not want to marry you. Do you, in your arrogance, assume I will change my mind?’

  ‘It has been known for some women to do so.’

  ‘And I am telling you that I am not most women.’

  ‘I know that,’ Laurence said, staring at the scornful young woman who was regarding him down the length of her pert nose and felt a glimmer of respect that she would dare to take him to task over what he was offering, which was to her advantage. ‘I am aware that arrogance is one of my least attractive points, but I assure you I do have some good qualities to counter-balance the bad.’

  ‘Really! I would not have known. Looking back on our encounter in the Spring Gardens, I cannot deny that I was equally to blame for what happened between us. But I was just a girl with no experience of what life was like away from my home.’

  ‘You are no simpleton, Melissa. You must have thought of the consequences.’

  ‘Consequences?’ There was a distinct edge to her voice. ‘I did—fleetingly—but marriage to a man of substance who would treat me with all respect and cherish me into the bargain did not enter my head. And I am convinced that at the time my vested interests did not come very high in your thoughts. I am sure I need say no more. You knew your state of mind better than I.’

  Laurence had the grace to look abashed as he took her meaning.

  ‘When I saw you I confess I was instantly smitten...’ she laughed bitterly ‘...and how ridiculous is that? How stupid does that make me sound? How could I have known that I was about to fall prey to a degenerate libertine?’