by Cheryl Holt
His mother had tried to warn him away from her, but he’d been too angry to heed Edwina. All these years later, he hated to admit how right she’d been.
“I didn’t think they’d ever go to sleep,” Pamela said. “They’re so excited when you visit in the middle of the day. It’s hard to calm them down.”
They were talking about their two daughters, Jane and Nancy. Jane was four and Nancy was three. They’d had a meal together, then Pamela had put them down for a nap so she and Percy could have a few private minutes before he had to head back to Selby and another betrothal party with Susan.
He patted his thigh, and she snuggled herself onto his lap.
He’d fallen madly in love with her when he was twenty. Occasionally, he struggled to recall that passionate fixation where he’d truly believed he couldn’t live without her.
With her stunning looks—blond hair, blue eyes, and curvaceous body—theater managers had insisted she’d break out as the next star of the London stage, and he’d yearned to be standing by her side when it occurred.
At her performances, he’d loafed in line with dozens of other men who’d all vied for her attention, but he was the one she’d noticed and had picked out of the pack. He’d been anxious to bind her to him so she could never slip away.
With the folly of youth driving him, he’d gone to his mother and had demanded that he be permitted to wed Pamela, but Edwina had crushed that dream into a thousand pieces.
They’d argued for months, and in the end, she’d won the battle simply by threatening to halt the meager allowance she gave him from the estate coffers. She’d intended to cut ties and evict him from Selby. He’d have had to wallow in squalor with Pamela, and his pride couldn’t have tolerated it.
He’d promised his mother he would sever his connection to her, but he hadn’t been able to force himself away. He’d secretly married her over his mother’s strident objection—they’d eloped to Scotland.
When he’d initially met Pamela, he’d been young and very naïve. He hadn’t understood that lust was fleeting, that it burned to ash, then fizzled out.
After she’d turned up pregnant with Jane, he’d been astonished. His school chums had claimed actresses knew how to prevent a babe from catching in the womb, and he’d assumed they were right, that actresses were cautious in their bedchamber habits.
Yet apparently, none of Pamela’s prior co-workers had shared that information with her, or if they had, she hadn’t followed their advice.
He was a husband, with a wife and daughters, and he labored under the terrifying knowledge that—should his mother discover his ruse—he’d be disowned and disavowed. His constant stress was so great that he might have been a circus performer walking on a tightrope.
He just had to get through the wedding, and he’d be fine. He’d have Susan’s dowry, so his mother’s fiscal power would be quashed. He’d be able to support Pamela and the girls without anyone realizing he was supporting them.
Susan’s money would be his money, and he could spend it however he chose.
As to Susan and the fact that he was about to commit bigamy, he never worried about it. Susan and Pamela occupied different worlds, and those worlds would never intersect.
“How soon must you leave for Selby?” Pamela asked.
“I can stay for awhile.”
“Is there time for a cuddle?”
“I always have time for a cuddle.”
They linked hands and went to their bedchamber. It was small, the bed scarcely wide enough to hold two people, but it was sufficient for what they did on it. He plopped onto the only chair and watched as she took down her hair, as she slowly stripped off her clothes.
She was adept at tantalizing him, and as she rolled down her stockings, as he studied her large breasts, her tiny waist and rounded hips, he vividly recalled why he continued on with her.
She wasn’t a curious person, and she accepted whatever he told her. She never questioned him, never pleaded for more than he supplied. Usually, he lived with her in London, but she thought he ran Selby for Nathan, so he was able to use Selby as an excuse when his presence was required in the country.
She was stoically nonchalant about his mother. On one very tedious occasion, he’d brought her to Selby, stupidly presuming—if Edwina would just meet her—she would relent and give them her blessing. But the notion had been foolhardy, as had so many decisions he’d made with regard to Pamela.
She never begged to reside with him at Selby. His mother was there, so she grasped that she would never be welcome, and she didn’t mind. She was London born and raised, so she was content to remain in the city, wrongly expecting that his position as a Blake would ultimately make him rich. It’s why she’d glommed onto him.
Pamela wasn’t aware that he was engaged to Susan. She could barely read, so she’d never stumble on an announcement in the newspaper. His life with her was completely separate from his life as a member of the Blake family, so she’d never bump into anyone who might spill the beans.
He’d explained his pending change of economic circumstance by claiming he was about to come into a huge amount of money, but she believed a trust fund had vested. She would be delighted to have an infusion of cash into the household, but she wouldn’t pester him much as to the source.
For a brief moment, it occurred to him that he was behaving egregiously toward Susan. She was young and naïve about amour—as he’d once been young and naïve—and she’d expect they would have a real marriage. And they would, as much as he could provide it to her, but as with everything at Selby, his relationship with Susan would have no bearing on his relationship with Pamela and his daughters.
The honorable path would have been to openly declare his idiocy, then try to set Pamela aside, but he’d consulted with several attorneys, and they all agreed that no court in the land would grant him a divorce. There were no grounds for one, and if he was divorced, no heiress like Susan would ever have him as a husband.
He’d have been bound to Pamela forever, but renounced by his mother, his paltry allowance yanked away. Then where would he be?
No, there was no viable route except to march forward, but every so often when he was feeling particularly desperate and trapped, he dreamed of vanishing. He pictured himself arriving at the docks, boarding the first ship he saw, and sailing away on it. The freedom would be so sweet.
There were probably many people who would have been shocked or even outraged to hear what he was about to perpetrate with Susan. They might chide him for his shameful conduct. They might insist he’d never pull it off, that he’d be found out, but he refused to think that way.
He was an optimist, and he was determined to have the best of both worlds.
Pamela strutted over, her lush, naked body offered to him so he could feast. As always when they were together and enjoying a carnal interlude, he was very, very glad he hadn’t gotten rid of her. Susan—for all her virginal innocence—would never learn how to please him as Pamela could.
Susan would be his wife, but Pamela would be the one who kept him happy.
CHAPTER NINE
Nell exited the historic church and was walking toward the cemetery behind it when a horse trotted down the road. She glanced over to find Lord Selby approaching.
Her pulse raced with alarm. She shouldn’t chat with him, but he’d already seen her. There was nothing to do but smile and wave.
Susan had made good on her vow to get Nell out of the manor. She’d conferred with Trevor, and he’d had another picnic packed, a carriage harnessed, and they’d hurried off to explore the neighborhood sights. The village church was one of them.
The main sanctuary was three hundred years old, and the graves in the cemetery were filled with interesting headstones. Many of them were Blake family members, and she intended to study all the names.
Susan and Trevor had wandered off, leaving Nell to her own devices. She probably should have been chaperoning Susan a bit closer, but she was too discombo
bulated over her own personal situation and couldn’t muster much concern over how Susan was misbehaving with her fiancé’s brother.
Lord Selby reined in and grinned down at her.
“Hello, Nell. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Hello to you too.”
“I could have sworn that we had an appointment to socialize today.”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t attend you. I’m sorry.”
“Why couldn’t you?” When she hesitated, he scoffed with disgust. “You might as well tell me. I’ll keep pestering you until you relent.”
He dismounted and tied the animal to a nearby bush. Then he sauntered over. He was so handsome and virile, so tall and manly. She liked how he towered over her. It thrilled her in a manner she couldn’t explain.
How would she survive the next fortnight? And what if Susan was eventually able to invite her to live at Selby? He’d constantly be flirting with her. How would she bear it?
She was a terrible liar and, on the spur of the moment, she couldn’t devise a suitable tale about why she was avoiding him. She wondered if a huge dose of candor might not work better.
“I’m in an enormous amount of trouble because of you,” she said.
“What sort of trouble?”
“You heard about it from your aunt. Apparently, you and I stare at each other too fondly.”
“You fascinate me,” he said. “I can’t deny it.”
“You shouldn’t notice me at all, and you have to stop it. At once. I have to stop too.”
“Shall I pull out a kerchief and blindfold you?”
“I doubt it would cure what’s ailing me.”
His grin widened. “What is ailing you, Miss Drummond? You must apprise me.”
“You know what my problem is.”
“That I’m amazing and you’re thoroughly besotted?”
“You are so vain, and I hate pomposity.”
“I was born like this. I can’t help it.”
“Can you try to tamp it down? Can you cease being so intriguing?”
“No. Who scolded you?”
“I guess your aunt berated Mrs. Middleton, then she berated me. The servants are gossiping about us. We’ve made a spectacle of ourselves, and I appear to be out of control.”
He scowled. “The servants aren’t allowed to have an opinion about my conduct.”
“Well, they’re certainly permitted to have one about mine. I’ve been instructed to stay away from you or I’ll be sent back to London immediately.”
“As if you’ve been naughty?”
“Yes, and it would kill me to miss Susan’s wedding, so please jump on your horse and continue on your merry way. Pretend you never bumped into me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Feet braced, hands on his hips, he scrutinized the gray bricks of the church as he asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m hiding from you. Susan wanted to see the sights, so Trevor is giving us a tour of the area.”
“Are you having any fun?”
“Yes, actually. I love snooping in ancient buildings. Why are you riding down the lane? Even if it’s the truth, don’t claim you were looking for me.”
“I wasn’t. I was feeling housebound, and you weren’t available to entertain me, so I decided to get some fresh air. I stumbled on you quite by accident.”
“When you stand with your feet braced like that, you’re reminding me again of my friend, Sarah Robertson.”
“The do-gooder who rescues orphans?”
“I can’t believe you remember such a pesky detail about my pathetic life. I would have thought any facts would be too boring to recall.”
“Must I repeat myself? You fascinate me. I’ve catalogued every tidbit you’ve provided.”
“Should your remark leave me delighted or horrified?”
“You should be delighted. It’s not every young lady who captures my fancy.”
“That’s not what I heard. I’ve been warned that you are a silver-tongued devil and atrocious Romeo, and I shouldn’t spend a single second talking to you. You might snatch away my virtue before I realized you were reaching for it.”
His scowl deepened. “I am a Romeo? Who told you that?”
“Your aunt?”
He laughed. “Yes, I’ve broken hearts all over England. There is a veritable line of girls weeping for the loss of me.”
“You refute the label of libertine?”
“No. I’m thirty this year, so I’ve had my share of amours. I just caution you to disregard whatever my aunt says about me. She has a skewed view and little of it is valid.”
He glanced around, saw no one, then dipped in and kissed her. Right there on the lane! It rocked her to the tips of her toes. Her pores tingled, and her breath hitched in her chest. She had no idea where Trevor and Susan were, if they might be watching from the woods, and she lurched away.
“Stop that!”
“Stop what?”
“Stop kissing me as if I belong to you and it’s fine to misbehave.”
“I can’t resist you.”
“Which makes no sense. I’m hardly irresistible, and if you intend to insist I am, I shall accuse you of being deranged.”
“You’re completely enticing to me. I can’t figure out why, but you are.” Evidently, he was weary of listening to her complain. He assessed the church again and said, “My father’s buried here.”
“Really? I was just going to look at the gravestones.”
He waved toward the cemetery. “I haven’t been here since I was a boy. I’ll go with you.”
She cocked her head and frowned. “You haven’t visited your father’s grave since you were a boy?”
“No.”
“Then this seems like a very private moment to me. I shouldn’t accompany you.”
“You’re being ridiculous again. I’m not a sentimental person, and he died when I was six. It’s not as if I’ll collapse from grief and you’ll have to console me.”
“I hope not. It would be hideously embarrassing for both of us.”
He started off, and when she didn’t follow, he whipped around and glared.
“Are you coming or not?”
“I shouldn’t,” she said. “If Mrs. Middleton found out, I’d be in so much trouble.”
“I’ve never even met Mrs. Middleton,” was his retort. “Why would I care what she thinks?”
“I have to care about it.”
“I won’t allow her to send you home, Nell. If she tries, I’ll send her home instead.”
She chuckled, but miserably. “You don’t understand anything about my life.”
“Yes, I do. You’re the lonely orphan and ward—like a poor relative only worse because you’re not a relative. You’re not kin, so they never let you forget how generous they’ve been or how grateful you should be.”
“Precisely.”
“You’re bossed and criticized, and you’re constantly perched on a precipice of anxiety, praying you never say the wrong thing because there will be consequences. It’s relentlessly mentioned how lucky you are to have been showered with so much largesse, but no matter how you grovel, you’re never thankful enough to satisfy them.”
Her jaw dropped in surprise. “You’ve described my situation exactly. How did you do that?”
“My childhood was much the same as yours, the difference being that I grew up and inherited a title and an estate, so now, I can act however I like, and no one can make me feel guilty.”
He stomped over, took her arm, and linked it through his own. Then they strolled off to the cemetery. She told herself it wouldn’t hurt to tarry with him for a few minutes. Florence would never learn of it, so why not enjoy herself?
They had a pleasant walk up and down the paths where they read the inscriptions on the various tombstones. Some were poignant, some were caustic, some were curt, some were funny. At the back, they began seeing the Blake graves. They were an established family that had lived at Selby for centuries so there were t
ons of them.
His father’s was off to the side, the marker not as big as some, but not as small as others. The inscription was a curt one, providing just his name and the dates of his birth and death. There were no eloquent words such as adored son or devoted father or fond husband.
They stood for an eternity, the woods very quiet as if even the birds in the trees were letting him reflect without interruption.
“I scarcely remember him,” he murmured after a bit.
“I don’t suppose you would. You were so little when he passed away.”
“He was a tall, strapping fellow or perhaps, because he towered over me, I assumed he was. He was handsome too. I recollect that much. And happy. He was always laughing and jesting, and he loved us very much, especially my sisters.”
They froze, then she asked, “Your sisters? I thought you were an only child.”
He pondered, then shook his head. “I am an only child. I can’t imagine why I said that. It just slipped out.”
His mother’s grave was next to his father’s, and for some reason, she was listed as Angela Blake. Nell was very confused. “Didn’t you once tell me your mother’s name was Mary?”
He frowned. “Yes, her name was Mary.”
“Maybe it was her nickname.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, and he pointed to it. “Her date of death is wrong. If that was correct, it would indicate she died shortly after I was born.”
“Huh,” Nell mused.
“But she died with my father when I was six. They were in a carriage accident.”
“That is very strange, isn’t it? I wonder if you should find out who carved it. He ought to fix it free of charge.”
He gaped at it forever, and he appeared completely befuddled. Ultimately, he said, “It probably doesn’t matter, does it? After so much time has elapsed, it’s silly to be concerned about dates on a stone.”
“It’s not silly. It’s your parents.”
He draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close so she was snuggled to his side, and they dawdled, lost in thought.
“This will sound foolish, but all of a sudden, I’m feeling very distressed.” He rubbed a hand over his chest. “My heart is absolutely pounding, as if I’m terrified to be here.”
