Family Scandals

by Denise Patrick

  Perhaps he needed to stop trying to think it through, and listen to his heart instead. Even before he knew who she was, his heart had drawn him to her side. He had felt a connection to her, a responsibility for her that made no sense under the circumstances. And maybe, just maybe, he thought, that’s what love was. An unconscious link between two people—stronger than friendship, more durable than lust or desire, and built on unconditional trust and acceptance.

  Perhaps he did love her after all.

  Much later, Marcus stood in the doorway of the drawing room observing the scene before him. Corinna, Felicia and Eliza were taking tea. Corinna was comfortably settled on a sofa while Felicia and Eliza were relaxing in nearby chairs. They were clustered near the fireplace because the day was chilly, but he noticed Corinna sat farthest away from the fire. Brand and Trent were in the library and planned to join them in a few minutes, but he had come in first.

  He checked again the envelope in his hand. Lord Wynton said they should continue to act as if nothing had happened, keeping nothing from Corinna, but he wondered if he shouldn’t keep this particular piece of correspondence from her regardless.

  She looked up and noticed him, the invitation in her eyes obvious. She might not have ever said it, but he did not doubt she loved him. He moved to join her, lowering himself onto the sofa beside her.

  “What do you have there?” she asked, indicating the envelope.

  “A letter for you,” he answered. “Do you want to read it now or later?”

  She glanced at her companions. “Do you mind?” she asked.

  Felicia looked at Marcus, noting the uncertainty on his face. Eliza, however, merely glanced at Corinna and answered, “No, not at all.”

  Resigned, Marcus handed her the letter as she put down her cup and saucer. Breaking the seal, she withdrew a single sheet of vellum and began to read.

  After a few moments, Felicia asked, “Who’s it from?”

  “Julianna,” Corinna answered absently as she read. Suddenly, her head came up and Marcus noticed her brow furrow in confusion. “I don’t understand,” she said slowly, “Why would Julianna…? Oh my god!”

  Turning toward Marcus, she glanced at his foot, then her own arm, to the spot where the bandage lay under her sleeve, then back at his face. Her eyes grew wide and he watched as the memories surfaced. When her eyes glazed over and she swayed toward him, he reached out to catch her.

  “Corinna?” Eliza’s exclamation had no effect.

  The missive fell to the floor as Corinna sought the protection of Marcus’s arms and he drew her tightly against him. She buried her face in his chest as her entire body began to shake. Her fingers gripped the material of his coat and he could hear her gasping for air. He wanted nothing more than to absorb her pain, but he knew there was nothing he could do but hold her close enough to assure her she was safe.

  When she went limp, he looked at Eliza and Felicia over her head. Shifting, he pulled her across his lap and cradled her close.

  “I wasn’t sure,” he confessed. “When I saw who the letter was from, I wasn’t sure I should give it to her at all.”

  Felicia regarded him sympathetically. “I know Jonathan said we should continue to act normal and, under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have kept it from her.”

  Eliza rose and retrieved the letter. “Do you suppose it matters if we read it?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t think so,” he answered absently. He bent and brushed a kiss across the smooth skin of her forehead, then took a deep breath. Tears clogged his throat. He wanted to shield her from the pain, not cause her more of it.

  Felicia went to the door as Eliza perused the sheet. Minutes later Wharton entered carrying a basin of cold water and cloths, which he set on the table before Marcus. Felicia wet one of the cloths and placed it over Corinna’s forehead.

  “Do we dare wake her?” Felicia asked. “I’m sure the housekeeper has some hartshorn somewhere. What does the letter say, Eliza?”

  “It’s an apology. Julianna asks Corinna to forgive her for drugging her and explains that she had no choice as Vincent had threatened her parents and son.”

  “What a thoroughly unsavory character. The world is a better place without him.” Felicia changed the cloth on Corinna’s forehead. Looking up at Marcus, she asked, “Do you want me to send for Jonathan, or just wait for her to awaken?”

  Marcus moved to rise. “Perhaps I should take her upstairs.”

  Felicia held him back. “Not on that foot,” she admonished him. “If you think it’s necessary, let Brand or Trent carry her.”

  Marcus grimaced, but acquiesced as Brand and Trent entered the room. Relinquishing Corinna to Brand, he followed them out of the room and upstairs to the suite. On the way up he explained what had happened when Corinna read Julianna’s letter. Brand put her down on the bed.

  “I’ll send word down if she awakens,” he told Brand, “but for now, I’ll just stay with her and see what happens.”

  Brand nodded and left.

  Marcus turned to the bed. He removed Corinna’s shoes, and turned her to unfasten the row of buttons down her back. Slipping the dress off, he loosened and removed her corset and stays, then maneuvered her between the sheets, covering her up to her neck with the thick coverlet. Pulling a chair up beside the bed, he sat down to keep watch.

  He closed his eyes and saw again the sheer terror in her eyes just before she lost consciousness. Julianna’s letter had triggered her memory, and opened the floodgates. He hoped when she awakened, she’d be willing to talk about her experience.

  “Marcus?”

  Her voice startled him and his eyes snapped open. He hadn’t expected her to awaken so soon. She was watching him out of eyes awash with tears. He moved to her sideband sat on the bed, waiting.

  “How did I get here?” she asked, her voice soft. “Did you save me?”

  “Save you from where?” he asked guardedly.

  “From the cottage. It was on fire. Vincent set it on fire because he couldn’t get in.”

  “Why couldn’t he get in?”

  “There was a bar for the door,” she explained. “I let it down.” She blinked and a tear escaped.

  “Do you know why he wanted to kill you?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she sighed. “What happened? How did you find me?”

  “Lady Barber sent me a note,” he answered, then went on to tell her the events of nearly a week ago.

  “He’s dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Diana too?”

  He nodded. She seemed to sag into the mattress as she let out a choked sigh. Tears overflowed, running from her eyes into her hair. Marcus lifted her and gathered her close to his chest.

  “I wish I knew why she hated me so much,” she sobbed. “I never understood why. Being jealous because I was the youngest just doesn’t seem like a good enough reason.”

  “I’m sorry, Corinna,” he said gently.“But I do not feel regret at their loss. It was you or them.”

  “I know,” she sniffed. “But I still wish I knew.”

  “And Vincent?” he asked. “Can you think of anything? Any reason? Do you know something that could have threatened him in some way?”

  She shook her head. “It’s possible Aunt Mirabel said something to me that I no longer remember.” She sighed, and sagged against him. “And it’s also possible that he felt slighted because I kept him at arm’s length. I heard him and Diana talking while they thought I was still unconscious, and he mentioned having a score to settle with me.”

  His hand moved to her hair, spearing through the thickness, dislodging pins until it tumbled down over his hand. Alternating between sifting his fingers through the auburn strands and smoothing it down, they sat in silence for a long time before Corinna spoke again.

  “I was afraid I would die and leave you alone.” Raising her head, she looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. “I love you,” she said softly.

  After a moment’s he
sitation, he replied, “I love you too.” Her eyes widened as he took a deep breath. “It has taken me all week to realize it. To realize it is not something that just happens, as in a sudden revelation, but a process that grows and changes as we grow and change.” He bent his head and brushed his lips across her forehead. “I knew when I first met you that there was something special about you, and when I discovered who you were, I thought that’s what it was. That somehow, I had known all along you were Douglas’s sister.”

  “And it wasn’t?” she asked, snuggling closer and wrapping her arms around his waist.

  “No. Instead, there was an initial attraction that grew and developed. I know some of what I am feeling is the result of almost losing you, but I also know that even before, you had become important to me. That I needed you—and would not be complete without you. I would if I had to, but I don’t think I would live very well without you.”

  Corinna absorbed his words in silence, each one warming her heart and settling in her soul. She’d wanted to be independent, yet she found that she could still be independent and love Marcus completely.

  “I knew that I loved you when we left St. Ayers, but I was afraid if I said anything that it would compromise the independence I thought I dearly wanted. But I’ve discovered that my definition of independence was flawed. I know now that I’m incomplete without you and you have bolstered my independence, not taken it away.”

  A deep contentment blanketed them both and, as dusk fell on the city outside, they found peace and absolution in each other’s arms.

  The scandals no longer threatened. His parents, grandparents, Vincent, Diana and Gregory would no longer overshadow their lives. They could finally let go of the past and look forward to their life together.

  Epilogue

  December 1875

  “Julianna will be surprised to see us,” Corinna said to Marcus as the coach went over a bump in the road. Shifting her eighteen-month-old son Douglas into a more secure position on her lap, she cuddled him closer. He’d been asleep for the last hour and she wanted him to stay asleep a little longer.

  “I thought you were going to write and tell her we’d be at Redding Park for Christmas.” Marcus grinned at her answering smile.

  “I’m not sure she’s convinced I don’t blame her for Vincent’s actions three years ago. I do feel badly that it has taken me this long to see her again.”

  Marcus reached out and ran his fingers down the side of the baby’s face before leaning over and brushing a kiss across her lips.

  “It’s not your fault you’ve been busy.”

  “I know, but that still doesn’t make it acceptable that I haven’t seen her. Before the incident with Vincent she was the only person who made the effort to get to know me.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “I know you think she only befriended me because he forced her to, but she was still a friend.”

  “I know, I know. After three years, another wouldn’t have hurt. We didn’t have to come this year.”

  Corinna sighed. For each of the past three years, there’d been one reason or another for them not to travel. The first year they’d wanted to spend Christmas together at St. Ayers. The second year she’d been increasing, so Marcus hadn’t wanted her to travel. Last year had been Douglas’s first. So, this year, regardless of the fact that she was increasing again, when the invitation arrived from Marcus’s former commander, she’d insisted on accepting. Especially once she found out he lived near Brookside.

  Marcus sat back against the black velvet squabs, his eyes soft as they rested on her and Douglas on the opposite seat. “Are you thinking you might tell Julianna of your find?”

  Corinna sighed. “I don’t know. I know we decided not to say anything. Even Doyle said the law would recognize her son as the next Lord Barber, but it just feels dishonest somehow.”

  She turned to look out at the bare countryside passing by the window. Douglas had been a month old when she discovered the letter. Even after a year and a half, she wasn’t certain what she should do with the information.

  It had never occurred to her that there might be old correspondence hidden in her grandfather’s bible. The farthest she’d ventured into the pages of the bible had been the family tree page. Since she hadn’t found what she’d been looking for there, she’d put it in her valise and forgotten about it. Until Douglas had been born.

  On a whim, she’d decided to carry the bible when Douglas was christened. When she’d retrieved it from her valise, she’d dropped it and a letter had fallen out. The letter from her great aunt and written to her grandfather, had been a confession. Vincent had not been the son of Conrad Pingree after all. Mirabel had already been pregnant when she married Conrad.

  She turned back to Marcus. “Do you suppose Vincent knew?” It was another question she’d asked Marcus more than once.

  “Perhaps,” was his reply. “Perhaps he thought his mother had told you the truth and worried you might say something.”

  “I don’t understand why he would think his mother would tell me something so personal and potentially embarrassing.”

  Marcus shrugged. “Perhaps he assumed she told you in order to keep him away. She could have used it as a threat. If he stayed away from you, you wouldn’t say anything.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think his mother ever knew he’d come into a title. If he said something to her, she said nothing to me.”

  “Regardless, it doesn’t matter,” he said. “Under the law, he is the son of her husband. That makes him Conrad’s son. To bring it up now might cause more harm. Think of what this might mean to Julianna. It’s not as if her son doesn’t carry Pingree blood in his veins. It just didn’t come through Vincent. And in the end, that’s what matters.”

  She settled Douglas on the seat and covered him with the blanket before moving to the seat with Marcus. As she settled into her husband’s arms with a sigh, she was thankful for his love and understanding. The question of whether to tell Viscount Northrup of their find was something that troubled her more than she wanted it to. Even her cousin Doyle’s assurance hadn’t stopped her from thinking about it.

  “Besides,” he murmured in her ear, “is that how you want to remember your great-aunt?”

  “No.” Perhaps that was the best reason of all to forget the letter. Without her aunt’s unconditional acceptance, she had no idea what might have happened to her. And her aunt would have died lonely and alone.

  “If you truly want to give Julianna closure, forget the letter and be the friend you insisted she was. The security of her son’s future will be the best thing you could give her. Even if it is done without her knowledge.”

  “I know.” She looked up at him. “Thank you.” His answering smile could still cause her heart to turn somersaults.

  His hand slid down and settled against her still flat stomach. She smiled as she moved her own hand over his and changed the subject.

  “Do you suppose this one will be a girl?”

  She felt his lips brush her temple. “Does it matter?” he asked softly. “It will be ours. And by the time it arrives, Douglas will be happy to have a playmate.”

  “I hope so.” Truth be told, she didn’t care whether it was a girl or boy, because she didn’t expect it to be the last. Turning, she looked up at him. “We will name her Emily Christine.”

  Astonishment crossed his features. “Are you certain?”

  She nodded. “I know she did some horrible things, Marcus, but that’s all in the past and it’s over now. She was a wonderful mother to you and Eliza. We will honor that memory and move on. I can’t think of a better way than to have a beautiful little girl named after her grandmothers.”

  He pulled her closer, the love in his eyes and awe in his voice confirming she’d said the right thing. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

  She slid her hands up his shirtfront and looked up at him mischievously. “You might have said something this morning, but Douglas was being fussy. Perhap
s you could tell me again.”

  “And again, and again,” he murmured. “At least two or three times a day for the next fifty or so years.”

  “I think I’d like that,” she said softly.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Then she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the magic and wonder of his kiss. Something she would never tire of.

  About the Author

  A well-traveled military brat, Denise developed a love of history and other cultures during her formative years. Reading came as naturally as breathing and once hooked on romances, she determined to write one herself. Historicals are her first love when it comes to romances, especially the Regency period.

  She and her husband live in the western U.S. and have two grown children. They love to travel and their current destination of choice is Germany. Someday she hopes to make it to England to see firsthand the places she has studied and writes about.

  Visit Denise on the Web at: www.denisepatrickauthor.com

  Or on her blog at: denisesden.blogspot.com

  Look for these titles by Denise Patrick

  Now Available:

  The Importance of Almack’s

  The Scarred Heir

  The Scarred Heart

  Gypsy Legacy

  The Marquis

  The Duke

  The Earl

  Sometimes, the greatest casualty of war is trust

  The Scarred Heart

  © 2012 Denise Patrick

  Lionel Cantrell has all but given up hope of finding his missing wife and child. He left them in the care of his parents and older brother while he went abroad to fight the French, only to return to a marriage in shambles, a daughter who cannot possibly be his, and his wife and son fled to parts unknown.

  Until now. At a former comrade’s house party, Lion comes face to face with the object of his five-year search. Emma, whose cold reception is keenly edged with barely concealed panic.

  When Emma’s perfect marriage to her childhood sweetheart crumbled into an unendurable year of humiliation and torment, she had no choice but to take their son—and her sanity—to build a new life under an assumed name. Her chance meeting with Lion threatens to expose long-buried emotional scars. And physical ones, the origins of which he must never know.