Boundless

by Lynne Connolly

  She laughed shakily. “Of course not. He was long dead.” She recalled finding the list when she was going through her father’s account of charitable donations. A letter had arrived from a new donor, addressed to her in error. A few guineas were enclosed, and that had sent her hunting for the list.

  Had they sent her baby there? She couldn’t wait to find out. But no. She’d found her grandfather’s concern, but no reference of the baby. No child fitting the description of her son had entered the orphanage during the vital two weeks.

  “How do you know?” Four people had known and one of them was dead; Sherwood, the one that had taken the baby. The one they couldn’t ask. Had her mother let something slip? Unlikely. Her father? No. Claudia? Had she told her husband? Even if she had, Dominic was an army man, had undertaken covert operations for his country, and held a secret much more explosive than hers. So even if he did know, he wouldn’t tell anyone.

  “I found out. That is enough. Do you think your sojourn in the cottage went unnoticed?”

  “But you were away at the time.” Away in the army and married.

  He nodded, and abruptly stopped walking, turning to face her before she had time to pull away. “I heard. You know Maria always followed me around like a puppy after its master.”

  Not the most flattering way to describe his wife. But Livia nodded, wanting to know where he was taking this discussion. If she let him lead, she would learn more than if she demanded answers. Jeffrey had always been that way, arrogantly certain of the superiority of the male sex. Once she’d found his conviction endearing, restful, even. “But you loved her, did you not?” More than he had loved Livia, that was for sure. He had walked away from her. At the time, that had devastated her.

  “My parents arranged the match. Once your father sent me away, I couldn’t resist the pressure any longer. You know my mother had been at me for years to marry Maria. I could not bear to see you in society, finding yourself a husband. At the time it seemed like the best thing to do.”

  Livia knew what family pressure felt like. “Did your parents know? Did you tell them what we had done?”

  His gaze dropped. “No. But they thought I had no right to court you. They were—against any closer link between us.”

  Courting? Was that what they called it? To be honest, Livia could rarely remember the fateful time when she’d allowed him to go further than he should have. He’d been asking her for weeks, pointing out that since they wanted to marry, surely it did not matter so much. Then she did, and she hadn’t enjoyed it half as much as she’d thought.

  That one time had given her the baby she still missed, still frantically sought. But she couldn’t let him know that. A quiet conviction that something was not right. She wasn’t going back into time, she wouldn’t let him weaken her by talking about her baby.

  “I lost a child too,” he said softly. “I know what that feels like.”

  “Maria?”

  He nodded. “With yours, I have lost two. Perhaps I am fated. I will never have a child, and I long to fill my nursery.” He lowered his voice. “Particularly if you were the mother.”

  At least, that was what she thought he said, but even so close she could not quite make out his words. She guessed she was meant to lean even closer to him, but she wouldn’t do that.

  Confusion reigned in her heart. What did he want from her? He’d known about their son all this time and he had said nothing, done nothing? Or had he? “How long have you known?”

  His mouth twitched, but he said nothing at first. His gaze roamed over her face, as if searching for something. He used to know her so well, but she’d learned a lot since they had parted. Eventually he answered her. “For some time.”

  Too briefly. She wanted to know more. “When?”

  “After I married Maria.” He swallowed. “After the deed was done and I could not go back on it.”

  He turned away, his hands clenched into fists.

  She watched him helplessly. Were they both victims, then? She had to speak to her mother, painful though they would both find it. “Thank you for telling me.”

  About to turn and walk back to the house, she paused when he spun around to confront her. “We could look for him together. You did not find him at the orphanage.”

  If he’d been watching her, he’d know that. She shook her head. Unable to bear the pain, she’d fled, and then regretted it. But she would not tell him that. Look for their son together? “What do you care?”

  “Oh, I care. I always did.” His tone was savage. “But what could I do? Your father obtained my commission when my father asked him. He arranged everything after your parents discovered I meant to marry you. But they did not tell me that you’d given birth until after. I left, and I heard you had smallpox and your mother had taken you into confinement. But it wasn’t that kind of confinement, was it?”

  He slashed his hand through the air, his voice shaking with emotion. “I was worried. I threatened to come home. I paid someone to watch the cottage where you were. That was when I knew.”

  He faced her, his expression softened. He swallowed, a sure sign of his nervousness. She remembered him doing that when they’d been in trouble, and one or other of their parents had confronted them. “We could start again, Livia. You don’t have to become an old maid, a spinster. Marry me. Let us do what we always wanted, and complete our story. Maria is dead, God rest her soul, and you are not.”

  She’d received more romantic proposals, but never did a marriage proposal pierce her to the heart like this one. Not even Adrian, who had proposed to her out of expediency.

  Although the kisses that had accompanied Adrian’s words had over-topped anything Jeffrey had offered. Of course, she and Jeffrey had both been so young then. But still she did not feel that same excitement.

  Why would she think of such matters now? Jeffrey was offering everything she had ever wanted. But like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet they had been torn apart by their parents’ dispute, from no will of their own.

  But they had both changed. He had an army career behind him. He was now a Member of Parliament and in control of his own career. She was relegated to the back row of aristocrats and would retreat even further once her betrothal to Adrian collapsed. She had nothing to lose, looking at the situation in those terms.

  “I am betrothed to the Duke of Preston,” she reminded him.

  “Do you truly want that? Are you in love with him as we were in love?” Closing his eyes, Jeffrey shook his head. When he looked at her again, his expression was fierce. “As I am still in love with you?”

  His words hung in the air.

  He tempted her. Could she do this? Find what she had once had with him? The answer came immediately. “I cannot.”

  “Not yet, not until you have broken your engagement. Or is this what you want?” His mouth twisted, his tone turning bitter. “Maybe you want wealth and a position in society and you are willing to sacrifice personal happiness for that. But at what cost? The world knows what Preston is, that he is the child of adultery. And with what a vile creature!” He reached for her hands, but she took a step back, anger rising that he should castigate the unfortunate pageboy that way. “Please, Livia. I love you, I always have.” He let his hands fall to his sides. “We fell in love at the wrong time for both of us, but we can continue now. Come and live with me at the manor. Forget Preston and his corrupt ways. You will never be happy with him, and you know it. He is not worthy of you.” He glanced up at the house and fell silent.

  If anything, the page who had fathered Adrian was nothing but a pawn, used by the duchess. How dare Jeffrey castigate a boy he did not know? But as anger rose, she held it back. She needed this man. Jeffrey knew about the baby. His story did not ring entirely true, but she couldn’t say why not. It made sense, that he would stay with Maria, but he had not contacted her, not once. “Do you know where he is?”

/>   A voice pierced her consciousness. “Where who is?”

  She had been so distressed that she hadn’t felt his approach. Adrian came up behind her like a protective wall, his warmth shielding her from the chill that she hadn’t noticed until this moment. As she forced back her awareness of her surroundings a breeze swept past the side of her neck. Glancing up, she saw the sky had more cloud than sky. Their respite from the rain was about to end. Or something else, sleet or snow perhaps. After all, December had arrived.

  When she shivered, he pulled the edges of her cloak more securely about her, his arms wrapping her in warmth before he drew them away. “Come, sweetheart, the weather is turning. Come indoors before you’re caught in a downpour.”

  “Did you know I was out here?”

  “I saw you from the house. I would have joined you but you were—busy.” His voice hardened as he stepped to one side of her and glanced at Jeffrey before turning his attention back to Livia.

  “I have not seen Livia for some time,” Jeffrey said. It did not elude Livia that he had used her first name as if he had a right to. In private it was one thing, but before others implied an intimacy they no longer had.

  An intimacy she no longer wanted. For all his faults, for all his problems, she was drawn to Adrian like nobody else. Certainly not Jeffrey. He had an appeal, but of her youth, of memories lost, not of the present. Even if she were not betrothed, she would not accept him now.

  But the knowledge that he had known about their son for all this time shook her to the deepest recesses of her soul.

  * * * *

  Livia and Sir Jeffrey did not look like lovers now. Adrian sensed the distress in her rigid little body before he saw her face. When he touched her, he confirmed it. She was tense, her shoulders raised. He kept his arms around her a fraction longer than he needed to, using arranging her cloak as an excuse. Left to his own devices, he would have held her against him until she stopped trembling. “Is there a problem?”

  “I had some news about someone we both knew a long time ago.” Sir Jeffrey used his question against him, pointing out that he and Livia shared a life Adrian could never enter. Well, he might have been part of her childhood, but Adrian vowed that Sir Jeffrey would have nothing to do with her future. Not if he could help it.

  This man had to have been the one who took Livia’s virginity. He’d gone around and around the issue, and this was the only answer that served. Also that her parents did not know, otherwise he would not have been allowed past the elaborate iron gates at the end of the drive.

  Why had Livia agreed to meet Sir Jeffrey here? Did she want to hear his declarations? Accept them? Had she ever forgotten him?

  A touch of fear breezed along his senses, matching the wind around their heads, which was trying to whip off his hat. He clamped the offending article on firmer with one hand but used the other to link with Livia’s. To hell with the society convention of placing her hand on his arm. He wanted her closer than that, and if anyone saw them, well, he didn’t give a damn.

  But she might. That was all that stopped him claiming her in the most expeditious way. “I’m glad you’ve had an opportunity to talk about old times,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “And the future,” Sir Jeffrey said, his features smoothing out to an expression of superiority. Or perhaps that was his usual expression. Adrian did not know, but every time he came across the man, he wore that same look. “We will be seeing much of one another.”

  “Oh? I move between my estates in Cumberland and Oxfordshire. Do you have establishments there?”

  “Not yet.”

  As if Sir Jeffrey would buy a cottage at the gates and pine away there. Even if he did, Adrian would ensure he did not stay there long. He was not one for acting lord of the manor, but if it got him what he wanted, then he would use everything in his power to achieve it. And he wanted Livia more than anything else. Moreover, he wanted her happy. Content.

  This man might have been the first to have her, but Adrian fully intended to be the last man in her bed.

  If only he was worthy of the honor. But since she had thrown herself away on this scoundrel, Adrian would work to be the best version of himself possible. Until now he had not concerned himself with the petty gossip of society, but for Livia he would reform.

  Nodding to Sir Jeffrey, he turned Livia and almost dragged her to the house. Rain began to fall, gently at first, pattering on his hat and skimming off the heavily waxed surface of her straw, creating its own trickle around her face. “At least you remembered to wear something warm, although your hands are cold.”

  “My gloves are too thin.” She sounded listless. Had he interrupted something she wanted to continue? A shame he was not about to allow her to return.

  As they approached the rear of the house, she tugged him aside, leading him to a nondescript door that had escaped his notice until now. Lifting the latch, he ushered her in, one hand at her back, urging her into the house and the warmth of the black and white tiled hall. Smaller than the grand entrances at the rest of the house, it was nevertheless welcome and saved them getting wetter. The rain had increased, pelting against the mullioned windows on either side of the door. “We got in just in time.” He smiled grimly. “Sir Jeffrey will get soaked.” Good.

  Because he had glanced back to see the squire storming off in the other direction, probably in the direction of his own house. That could not be too close. He probably had a horse tethered nearby, although that would not stop him getting wet.

  Served the bastard right.

  A door stood at the end of the hall, but Livia led him up the wooden staircase and through a door to a part of the house he knew. He had taken some time exploring the various corridors, getting his bearings so he could find his way around this house. Obviously it was one of those places that had grown from a medieval seed, and gained a unified frontage to cover all the alterations and additions. Much like his house in Cumberland.

  A small parlor lay on their left. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her into it, but left the door open. A small fire burned in the grate, a netted guard before it to stop sparks falling on the polished boards. This house was extremely well curated. He didn’t release her hand but lifted it and turned it to unfasten the little button at the wrist. Then he tugged it off and followed suit with the other. Taking her hands between his, he rubbed them. “You should wear warm gloves, not these fashionable things. It’s nearly Christmas, and there’s snow in the air.”

  “There is?”

  “There is.” Unfastening the bow under her chin took some effort, since it had tightened, but he managed and pulled her hat off her head, tossing it aside. She’d flattened her hair, but to his eyes she was still lovely. She’d be lovelier if she wasn’t shivering.

  Without considering possible consequences, he drew her close, wrapping her in his arms. “You should have come in earlier.” His anger dissipated as if it had never been in the face of her possible ill-health. “You’ll catch your death of cold. As long as you were walking, you were fine. You should not have stayed still for so long.”

  “I wanted some fresh air.”

  “And to make your tryst.” To his surprise, his anger crested once more. Along with his arousal, which seemed to happen every time he came close to her. He was almost getting used to his lack of control where Livia was concerned. Fortunately, the effect only happened around her.

  “I didn’t know—”

  He broke into her words. “Don’t lie to me, Livia.” The thought sliced through him, hurt cutting through parts of him he’d imagined nobody could reach again. He’d been wrong. She belonged to him, damn the woman, and he would not allow her to choose anyone else. “Please don’t do that.”

  “I won’t.” When she looked up, her blue eyes wide and melting with honesty, he believed her. Even though he knew he should not. And that angered him more. But beneath those eyes lay s
hadows, silent witnesses to a sleepless night.

  He knew how she felt. He hadn’t slept too well, either. Normally he slept like a baby, but his concerns kept him awake, together with a bed that felt strangely empty.

  She nestled into him as if she belonged there, her body slowly warming by the fire and against his body.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me about Jeffrey?”

  Defeated, he shook his head. “If you want me to know, you’ll tell me. Is there something I need to know?”

  Her breath swelled her bosom against his chest. “Yes.” She drew another breath, and a small frown appeared between her brows. “But not here.”

  He knew. He’d left the door open as a nod to propriety, but also, perhaps, he didn’t want to know. Not yet. “Very well.” He bent his head to her, unable to resist those cherry lips a moment longer.

  Their kiss was tender. Why he enjoyed the soft, affectionate kisses he’d never know. Kisses in his world were a forerunner to purely physical activity, nothing else. But with Livia this was enough, for now. Touching her, having her near and sharing kisses soothed his soul and calmed the restlessness that was his constant companion these days.

  Warming her lips with his, tasting her and feeling her response urged him to do more. But he drew back. She blinked, as if as surprised as he felt. Every time he touched her he claimed a little more of her. She would be his, and he would know all her secrets.

  Her confiding in him had grown in importance in his mind, and in the way he wanted to claim her.

  In return, he would tell her everything. All of the sordid details that had helped to make him the man he’d become, why and how. All that she wanted to know. He would not force painful details on her, but Livia had said she wanted honesty. She would have it.

  Was he really thinking of telling her about his mother, and the man who had fathered him? Gazing into her eyes, he knew the answer. But not until he had that ring on her finger. He hadn’t gone that far into the vale of the good.

  Her trembling wasn’t all due to cold, either. Sir Jeffrey had upset her, but Adrian didn’t know how.