Laurence’s face tightened. ‘As I recall you were not averse to my advances. But it’s too late for recriminations. The deed is done and there is no going back.’ He looked at her hard. ‘I have many faults, Melissa, but walking away from my mistakes is not among them. You have already expressed your reluctance to have anything further to do with me quite frankly. Do not go on to impugn my honour as a gentleman.’
She looked away, then back again. ‘I apologise. My criticism was unwarranted. I did not mean to insult you.’
‘I mean what I say. You are mistaken when you accuse me of trying to inflict my authority on you. Nothing was further from my mind. The way I see it you gave birth to my child—my daughter. I cannot walk away and pretend she does not exist. Whatever your thoughts, Melissa, I am not here to hurt you. I am here to make amends. I am older than you—a man of the world. You were a naive young woman. I should have known better and I deeply regret what I did. I have no desire to see you disgraced. What I am suggesting is a fair offer.’
‘Fair?’ she retorted, her heart beating so fast as she prepared to argue her case further. ‘You haven’t even had the grace to ask me formally to be your wife. Despite what we—what we did,’ she said, almost choking on the words and embarrassed to be speaking of something so intimate in the presence of her parents, ‘you are still a stranger to me. I don’t know if I want to marry you.’
‘Then I trust you will let me know when you have made up your mind. It is of great concern to me.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is, but we were doing nicely before you came along.’
‘For now, maybe, but what of the future?’
‘Future? What future?’
‘Your future. Violet’s future.’
‘We’ll manage.’
Laurence looked down at the proud young woman in her worn gown cradling her child. He could feel the noose of matrimony tightening around his neck—a noose of his own making. ‘It is a dilemma, to be sure. I took the innocence of an inexperienced girl which effectively destroyed all your chances of having any sort of respectable life of your own. With no husband to lighten your load, you will be carrying the burden of what we did for as long as you live. Unintentionally I have inadvertently, but effectively, destroyed your future. I am Violet’s father. I would like us to raise her together.’
Melissa frowned, giving him a hard, sceptical look. ‘Why? I will not have my destiny or that of my child dictated by circumstance. Is it pity or guilt that has prompted you to asked me to be your wife—to do the honourable thing?’ she demanded.
He shook his head. ‘I might have known you would suspect this—and as proud as you are, your pride would make you oppose me. I care enough about you to be hurt by all you have had to endure since you discovered you were to bear my child—and from what I have seen of our daughter—well, what can I say? Only that now I have seen her I cannot bear the thought of not having her in my life—to see her grow.’
‘You don’t have to marry me to do that. I will not stop you seeing her any time you want.’
Having heard enough, the Baroness stepped forward. Behind the face of dignified respectability, the ambitious mother had taken over, wanting only the very best for her only daughter and determined both to avoid further scandal and to make the best out of an intolerable situation.
‘Be sensible. Melissa. It is because of your disobedience in the past and your determination to flout the rules that govern the lives of respectable young ladies that you find yourself in this unenviable situation in the first place. By any moral code you are disgraced. If you imagine for one minute that any self-respecting gentleman will consider marrying you in the future then you are mistaken. The way I see it there is only one way out of this. If you want respectability then you must take what Lord Maxwell is offering and be grateful.’
Melissa stiffened with indignation at her mother’s harsh rebuke. She had become accustomed to the fact that she would never marry, that no man would take on a woman who had fallen so far from grace and given birth to an illegitimate child. Now, out of the blue had come this force, this transformation which had caused her heart to perform a whole new beat, to be moved by one man and no other. A man who did not want her. A man who was prepared to marry her for no other reason than to get his hands on her daughter—their daughter. It was not to be borne—she could not.
‘That is not fair. You are asking me to enter into a binding contract that will change my life—to wed a man I don’t know.’
‘You knew him well enough to let him get you with child,’ her mother reproached pointedly.
‘You must see what I am suggesting is sensible,’ Laurence pressed. ‘I am asking you to do this—if not for yourself or your parents, then to do it for our daughter. Will you be my wife, Melissa? There really is no way out of this for either of us.’
Melissa looked at him, her emotions running riot inside her. He was staring down at her, his profile harsh, forbidding. She knew what a shock all this must be for him and she had no doubt that from the moment he had discovered that Violet was his daughter he had been thinking hard for some way out of the situation he had inadvertently created all those months ago when he had answered the call of his lust and wandered off with her into the trees of the Spring Gardens. She also suspected that there was an anger simmering away beneath that tautly controlled façade of his.
He didn’t want her—she had no illusions about that. For reasons of his own he wanted Violet. While most men shunned their illegitimate offspring, Laurence Maxwell quite obviously felt quite differently about it.
‘Your wife?’ she uttered quietly, his words causing her more shamed anguish than anything he had said to her. ‘But how can you want that? How can you respect a woman who was so deficient in morals that she could give herself to a man as I did?’ This was true. No woman of any class would ever be so forward as to do what she had done, to encourage the advances of a man who was a stranger to her.
‘If I had any doubts about your morality or that Violet is not my daughter, then I would not be here now.’ Laurence looked down at his pink-cheeked daughter and touched her cheek. ‘But you were innocent and she has the mark—that’s proof enough that she is my daughter—and see, she’s smiling at me. She does not share your aversion to a marriage between us.’
Melissa looked down at Violet. She was indeed smiling at him—and gurgling. Traitor, she thought, scowling at her daughter. How could she do that? She felt betrayed by her own daughter. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. She smiles at everyone.’
Never had she imagined she would be envious of her offspring when Laurence caressed her daughter’s cheek—but, no, she thought defiantly, she didn’t want him to touch her ever again. Something inside her snapped, something small and rebellious. Raising her head imperiously, she was aware that a tiny part of her was tempted to fall in with his plans, to do anything to please him, but she would not be bullied. Looking at her parents’ expectant faces, she knew they wanted nothing more than for her to agree to what Laurence was suggesting, but she was not so easily won over.
She asked herself why she was being like this? Laurence should have been her prince, her knight in shining armour, come to rescue her from the scandal of raising a child—his child—unsupported by a husband. But he did not in the least care for her and he never would, and her heart was laid waste in a pitiless manner by knowing that. But so what? Her heart could not reason, so she sought the logic of her mind instead. Yes, she was hurt, aggrieved by his indifference to her, but would life be so terrible if she married him? She was never going to love anyone else, that she was sure of, and she had Violet to consider in all of this.
The stigma of her child’s birth had struck a bitter note in the local community. People they had known for years avoided them. Their closest friends had grown guarded. Innocence, she had learned, was a technicality when loose morals were involved. However many times she told herself to
live in the moment, at High Meadows there was little escape from the impact of the past. Did she want her daughter to grow up without a father to guide her, to love her? No, she could not do that to Violet, so why would she not want to take this way out?
Melissa knew it would be a great joy for her father and a triumph for her mother if she accepted this strange proposal of marriage, something the Baroness could boast about in her circle of friends, and she silently reprimanded herself for feeling put out by it. Perhaps it would be good for Violet to be raised elsewhere.
‘Isn’t marrying me a bit extreme?’ she said, continuing to argue, though not as forcefully now. ‘Is not the custom for men in your position to pay women off for what we did? I will accept your support for Violet, but marrying you is something else entirely and wholly unnecessary to my mind.’
He frowned. ‘Is that what you want, Melissa—for me to pay you off as I would a mistress? Believe me, there is nothing respectable in that. In fact, quite frankly, I find it rather vulgar to even consider it. Marrying me is the only possible solution. If you wish to continue the argument, then consider Violet. She will have to partake of the disgrace of her illegitimacy and any hope she has of marrying well in the future will also be dashed. Can you live with that on your conscience as well as depriving her of her father?’
She hesitated, struggling against the insidious feeling of surrender which was steadily crushing her. Then came the realisation that she had no option other than to agree with him.
‘We will be married,’ he said abruptly, clearly reading her acquiescence in her face. Her expression turned to one of resentment. ‘Don’t look so put out. It may not be so bad. We may rub along well together, but the child must come first. You do see that?’
It was not what she wanted to hear. Rub along! That was not how she saw a relationship between a husband and wife, but she relented. ‘Yes—yes, I do.’
‘What passed between the two of us doesn’t matter now. I don’t matter and neither do you. But Violet didn’t ask to be born and she does matter. I cannot abandon my own child and still live with myself.’
‘Nevertheless I cannot quell the feeling that a marriage based on such a beginning—without love—is a prelude to disaster,’ she muttered.
‘It needn’t be. Are you afraid of me, Melissa?’
Regardless of the raw emotions quivering through her, Melissa shook her head. She wasn’t afraid of him—she was suddenly afraid of herself. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’
‘Good, because you have no reason to be. Love has no place in marriage. In our world, marriages are generally arranged for profit and gain—but I grant you there are exceptions. Our marriage will be what you and I make it. We must make sure the advantages far outweigh any difficulties that may arise.’
They regarded each other in silence. Melissa felt her stomach sink. It would seem that her position was inescapable. She took a steadying breath. There was little point in worrying about marriage to him and what it would mean for her and Violet just now. She was in this situation so she would have to make the best of it. The whole farce of this marriage was to secure Violet’s future. Her mother was right. Violet would need her father and Melissa’s own personal feelings were not a priority. She was the first to concede defeat with a sigh and an imperceptible inclination of her head.
‘Very well. I will do as you wish,’ she said, reluctantly yielding to his authority as her future husband and the father of her child. ‘Now please excuse me. Violet is tired. I must put her down for a nap.’ She moved to the door, saying over her shoulder, ‘I will leave you to discuss the details with my parents.’
Most put out that Melissa had walked away from him, Laurence followed her, halting her as she opened the door. She fixed him with a gaze that was full of confusion and fear—fear of what? The future? Of him? It was also naked and sad. ‘Must you leave? My business is with you. Do you think this gives me any pleasure?’ he asked quietly, so her parents couldn’t overhear.
‘No,’ she replied equally softly, her expression bland. ‘I don’t suppose it does.’
‘Melissa, look at me.’ He waited until she raised her head and met his gaze before speaking. There were shadows and lines of strain around her lovely eyes. No doubt he had put them there and he hated himself for it. ‘We should talk,’ he said gently, ‘without pretence or dissimulation. Please believe me when I say that I only have your best interests at heart. You must realise there is no compulsion. I may have sounded decisive and forceful in what I think is the most sensible course to take regarding our future together, and I can imagine how alarmed you must feel, but do not feel that you are under any obligation—your wishes do matter to me.’
His approach and understanding of her feelings went a little way to putting Melissa at her ease and she found herself able to quell the sense of panic which had begun to tighten its hold. ‘Yes—thank you.’ At least he didn’t utter words of love he didn’t feel. Neither had he proposed to her with any show of sentimental affection, so she had accepted his proposal in the same unemotional way it had been offered.
‘I am in the county visiting my good friend Sir Antony Bentley. I expect to be here another two weeks. You are acquainted with the family?’
Melissa had heard of the Bentley family. Apart from fleeting glimpses at one county event or another, she didn’t know them. They were an old established family in the area and much respected. ‘I know of them. We have met occasionally on hunts and so forth, but we do not socialise with the family.’
‘I have known Antony all my life. Our mothers were friends and Antony and I attended Cambridge together. He was with me at the Spring Gardens when we met.’
Realisation dawned on Melissa. She recalled seeing him with a gentleman and that the gentleman had seemed familiar to her. She could not believe he was none other than their neighbour, although she had only seen him on occasion and thought nothing of it. ‘Yes—I remember now. He seemed familiar at the time, but I could not place him then.’
‘He will attend me at the ceremony. I will send to London for a special licence and the wedding will take place within the next two weeks—before I have to return to London. I would also like Violet to be baptised at the same time. At a later date I will formally adopt her as my daughter. Does that meet with your approval?’
Melissa stared at him, hesitating for a moment before she replied. He was looking at her with a gentle understanding and concern, yet he was completely different from the man who had made love to her with such intimate tenderness. They were not the same two people who had come together in the Spring Gardens when they had claimed nothing from each other but the pleasures to be enjoyed in each other’s arms. That night she had been living purely for the moment. She hadn’t fully realised that what was about to happen would determine her whole future.
‘Yes. I can see no reason why not.’ On that note she went out.
Living at High Meadows with no other thought than country pursuits, she had seen so little of the world at large and knew so little of men. She had attended just a few sedate gatherings on her visits to her Aunt Grace in London with her mother, but had not attended dances like most girls of her age. All she had to measure Laurence Maxwell against were her own brothers. But this man was not like either of them.
* * *
Laurence stood for a moment, looking at the closed door. Before coming to High Meadows he had thought long and hard about the steps he was about to take. In the end he had decided that if he wanted to know his daughter, there was only one thing that could be done. He must marry Melissa. In this he knew he must tread carefully. He could not deny that there was something about her that tugged at his senses and imbued him with a chivalric instinct to protect. He was entirely to blame for what had occurred between them. He should not have been foolish enough to interfere with an innocent and inexperienced girl. It could not have been easy for her being vilifie
d for what he had done to her.
Returning to the Baron and his wife to discuss arrangements for the wedding, he thought it strange that the tension that had built within him since the previous day’s encounter with Melissa was already dissipating, leaving him tired, but more at ease. He had not realised how much her criticism of him had hurt, had undermined his certainty that what he was doing was right.
Laurence insisted on a small, private ceremony, even though the Baroness had pressed for a larger ceremony to impress her friends. She did not approve of such haste, but, ultimately thankful he was willing to take responsibility for dishonouring Melissa, she relented before he left the house, conceding to his every wish.
As he rode away from High Meadows, he groaned as he relived the manner of his proposal of marriage. He had handled it like a thoughtless, heavy-handed idiot, without finesse or sensitivity. He understood only too well the chasm that stretched before them. There was so little common ground between them and no depth of acquaintance to hold them steady against adversity. He and Melissa needed time alone together to smooth out the issues between them. Nothing would be resolved otherwise. But he continued to brood as he rode, conscious that for the first time for many months, the face that filled his mind was not that of Alice.
* * *
Laurence arrived at Beechwood House at the same time as Antony, who had been visiting one of his neighbours. After handing their horses over to a groom, they proceeded to make their way to the house. Antony was Laurence’s closest friend, a jovial good-natured man with a shock of sand-coloured hair and as different as night and day from Laurence. He was warm hearted and possessed of an enormous amount of charm, which endeared him to everyone and was the reason why he was invited to every fashionable occasion.
‘How were things at High Meadows and your meeting with Baron Frobisher and his charming wife?’
Wedded for His Secret Child Page 4
