She took it and slipped it around his collar. Her nimble fingers tied it into a fairly decent knot. He turned to admire it in the full-length mirror.
“Not bad at all. You must have practiced on someone.” He said it lightly but was aware that a bubble of jealousy was waiting to explode inside him should she mention an old lover.
As hypocritical as it would be to be angered by the idea of her having other lovers, he would be.
“My father.”
The words were cold and empty. She might have meant for it to sound as if she did not care, but he could hear the anguish there. All he knew was that her family had disowned her after her ruination. What sort of family would do such a thing, he did not know. By all rights, their eldest brother, Julian, should have given up on the lot of them, but he never did.
Though tempted to take her in his arms again, he suspected she wouldn’t appreciate it so he finished dressing and slipped on his shoes.
“You really do not need to escort me home,” she protested.
“Nonsense. It’s dark, and I could not rest unless I knew you were safe.”
“Well, if you must.”
“I must.”
And then he would get the chance to find out her plans for tomorrow. If she had more business, he would play chaperone again and perhaps persuade her to let him take her to dinner.
Harris almost surprised himself. He eyed the raven-haired woman in front of him, drank in her slightly-mussed beauty. Her lips were still swollen from his kisses, and he would not tell her that he’d left a tiny red mark on her neck where he’d nipped her.
Of course, he wanted to be sure he could protect her while she stayed in London—that had not changed—but should their time together not have drained him of his need for her? And taking her to dinner? That had never been his plan.
Yet the idea resided there in the back of his brain. He thought to their time on the lake the other day and how pleasurable her company had been. How easily they had talked. He had wanted to find out more and still did. Now that he knew what she sounded like when she came and how she looked when she cried, he wanted more still. What did she do when she was deliriously happy? Or when something truly angered her?
Harris smirked at himself. He’d irritated her aplenty, but he didn’t think he’d made her truly angry. If he tried, he probably could. Anna was like a firework. One little spark, and she’d ignite. Her passion was another thing he adored about her, if only she did not keep it hidden behind that wall of ice.
“What is it, Harris?”
He shook himself mentally. “You are very beautiful.”
She gave him a tender smile and cupped his face. “You are very sweet.”
“I do not think I have ever been called that before.”
“Then this certainly is a day of firsts.”
“No one has called you beautiful?”
“They have, but I am not sure they meant it.”
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Well, I did.” Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, he released a resigned breath. “Come, if we wish to find you a hack, we had better make haste.”
They headed downstairs and paused in the doorway. Once in the streets, they would have to have some semblance of decorum. She was aware of it too—he could tell by the way her gaze kept falling on his lips.
Unable to resist, he took her face in his hands and kissed her hard. He tasted and sampled her in an attempt to get his fill of her. It didn’t work. By the time, they parted once more, he was rock hard and in dire need of her.
He straightened his waistcoat while she adjusted her hat. Wordlessly, they left the house and began walking down the street in search of a hack for hire.
Harris did not keep his own carriage as it was too hard to keep and maintain in London. Much easier to hire a carriage each time he needed one. And right now, he was grateful for that decision. It prolonged his time with Anna.
The lamps were lit and spilled their glow upon the pavements. Most shops were closed with the exception of the few coffee houses lining the road. Many younger men and women filled the tables outside of the establishment, their conversation mingling with the clop of horses and the squeak of carriage wheels going past.
Anna looped her arm through his when they passed the busy cafes. He doubted she thought he offered protection from the harmless patrons, but he liked it nonetheless. He did not even think it had been a conscious move.
A smug grin was likely working its way across his face right now. He had, on his arm, a beautiful, powerful woman who had just made love to him so vigorously that he could probably sleep for a week.
And he very much hoped it would happen again.
Anna stiffened beside him and stopped. He came to a sudden standstill next to her and scowled. “What is it?”
Her face had turned ashen. It reminded him of the other night at the dinner party. Except this time, she trembled from head to toe.
“Anna?”
She stared at him through sightless eyes before turning on her heel. Forced to hurry after her, Harris grabbed her arm.
“Anna, what the devil is going on?”
“I cannot—” She tugged away from him and continued on back toward his house. “I just need to...”
He wasn’t sure what she needed or what on earth had triggered this, but he looped an arm about her shoulders and led her back to the house. She leaned a little into him. First those tears the other night and now this. Anna was so strong, what could possibly be making her like this?
Once back inside the house, he led her into the drawing room, settled her on the sofa and turned on all the lamps. She clenched her hands together. He eyed her for a few moments before opting to sit next to her and force her into his hold. She remained stiff for a moment before easing against him. Her body began to relax into him after several minutes of silence.
“What is wrong, Anna?” he asked firmly. Today he would understand her what was making her so upset, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer, not when it turned her into this ashen shadow of the woman he knew. Whatever burden she was carrying, she had to share it.
“I—” She glanced briefly up at him then stared ahead. Her fingers toyed with the buttons of his waistcoat.
He continued to wait, simply holding her until she was ready.
“I thought I saw someone I knew.” The words tumbled out so fast he barely caught them.
“I see. And this person? You were not happy to see them?”
She shook her head.
“Why?”
Anna drew in an audible breath and eased away from him. Shoulders straight, she eyed him. “Few people know this.”
“You know I will not say a word.”
“I do.” Her chin trembled but there were no tears. Just a great sadness in her eyes that made him want to drag her back to him and take away all the pain she’d experienced in her life. “You know about my ruination. That I had a lover, and it was discovered that I was not a virgin.”
“Yes.”
“I did not have a lover,” she said simply.
“It was a rumour?”
“Not as such.” Her gaze landed on the fireplace, and she stared into the unlit grate.
A chill ran through Harris, and he curled his fingers. Whatever she said, he had to react properly. If he was one of the few to know this, he would not mess it up.
“I was no longer a virgin, that much is true. But it was not by choice.”
It was like a punch to the gut. She still refused to look at him. And for that he was glad as it took him several moments to gather his wits and ensure his fury didn’t show on his face.
“You were...” His voice sounded as though someone had tied his necktie too tight.
“Raped, yes.”
“God Almighty,” he breathed.
Christ, if he’d have known...He didn’t know what he would have done, but he’d have been more cautious, more caring. He’d have tracked down the man and castrated hi
m before throwing him in the Thames. Actually, he still could...
“That person you thought you saw...”
“It was silly. It was not him. Just sometimes if I see someone like him, I think...”
“You think it’s him.”
“He actually lives in Spain now with some heiress. I hear she’s not very nice to him, which I’ll admit pleases me.”
“He does not deserve to live at all.”
Anna shot a shy look his way. He leaned over and took her hand in an attempt to prevent her from looking away.
“Why was he not punished?”
“I was quite enchanted by him when we first met. I thought myself in love. So I followed him everywhere and got myself into that situation. It was my word against his. He told everyone I had begged him for it. That man, Francis, who approached me at the ball was one of his friends. They all thought I was a wanton whore.”
“And your family?”
“They did not care to hear my side of things. If I had been raped, I was a fool for letting myself get into that situation or I had led him on and if I had not, I was a whore in their eyes.”
Harris shook his head. “You were never to blame.”
“I know that.” She squeezed his hand as if trying to give him reassurance. How ridiculous. He should be reassuring her, protecting her. Anna should never have gone through what she had.
“I wish you had told me. I could have been more...” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“More what?”
“I don’t know. Considerate, I suppose.”
“Harris, you were a wonderful, considerate lover, and I’m grateful to have discovered what love-making should be like.”
“Please tell me I was not your first lover since,” he begged, his voice strangled.
“No, I have had a few, but none were as considerate as you.”
Releasing the air he’d been holding in his lungs, he shuffled closer and drew her back into his arms. He pressed her head into his shoulder and kissed the top of her head. They twined their fingers together.
“So your family disowned you because of this?”
“Well,” she giggled, “we sort of disowned each other.”
“Why?”
She lifted her head away from his neck to eye him. “Do not be shocked,” she warned him.
“I am not sure I can be anymore shocked than I am already.”
“I became pregnant.”
“By the bastard,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Yes. My parents wanted me to go through a dangerous procedure to kill the child, and I refused. They hid me away in the country until I gave birth, but I was quite sick after childbirth. They took the child away to give to a nursemaid—or at least that was what they told me. By the time I had recovered, it seemed they had given him to an orphanage.”
Harris’ heart gave a pang of sympathy. The realisation of just how strong this woman really was hit him.
“I have been looking for him, Harris. That’s why I’m in London. I need to know he’s well.”
He nodded slowly and pressed a kiss to her head. “I shall help,” he declared. “We’ll find your son, Anna. I promise.”
Chapter Ten
Just over one week ago, she’d confessed all. The first person to know all the truths of her soul apart from her family. The first person to have actually cared about the truth. Since then, she’d seen him almost daily. He’d accompanied her on her next visit to the private investigator and helped her dig through some records of the orphanage.
The investigator, who had come highly recommended, had become quite prickly about her interference. She could well understand his annoyance but what was she to do? Sit around and wait for years and years in case more news surfaced?
This was her last hope. A nurse’s name had arisen in the records and the investigator had tracked her down. Anna should have told Harris perhaps, but like the last nursemaid, she had no wish to intimidate the woman and both men could be quite intimidating.
Heart hammering, she knocked on the door of the small lodging and waited. Paint flecked from the windows and the glass was grimy. A scruffy dog and several cats who looked like they’d spent most of their days fighting milled around the quiet street. Harris would not be impressed with her for coming alone.
“I’m coming,” someone called from inside.
She waited for what seemed like forever while the door clicked and then opened. An elderly lady hunched over a walking stick peered at her through thin spectacles.
“If you’ve come begging, I’ve got nothing.”
Anna shook her head. How good could those spectacles be if she could not see Anna did not need to beg?
“Are you Mrs Lonsdale?”
“I am, yes. What do you want?”
“Forgive me but were you once known as Miss Devon?”
“Yes, that was me. A long time ago though. Why do you ask?” The woman glanced up and down the road as if expecting an ambush.
“I was hoping I could speak with you about your time at the Bakersdale Institute for Orphaned Children.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Were you one of them?”
“No, no.” Anna smiled reassuringly. “You must have worked there for quite some time.”
“Yes, I only left when I married. Some of the saddest but best days of my life,” she smiled. “But I was getting on and Arthur made a fine offer. Couldn’t be a nurse for the rest of my life could I?” She waved her stick at the house, causing Anna to have to move back a little. “And he left me with this house. It’s all mine,” she said proudly. “Bless his soul.”
“I am sorry for your loss.”
The woman focused in on her again. “Who are you again?”
“My name is Anna Dubois.” She swallowed. “I had a child that was given to your orphanage.”
“And you want it back, is that it?”
“Well...” Anna hardly knew the answer to that herself. “I just need to know what happened to him.”
“If you gave him up, my girl, I am not sure you have a right to know.”
“Please, you must understand, it was not my choice. He was taken from me by my family.”
Mrs Lonsdale nodded slowly, her face filled with sympathy. “I understand.” She motioned with her stick inside the house. “Come in, I was just having tea.”
Anna followed her into the musty house.
“You’re not the first girl to have had a baby taken from her, and you won’t be the last.” She shuffled into the drawing room and motioned for Anna to sit. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Dubois.” She held her breath. Surely the woman would not remember a baby by that name? But she had to hope.
“Dubois.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t get many babies with French names these days. Dubois.” She took off her glasses, rubbed them against her shawl and replaced them before peering at Anna intently.
Anna resisted the need to fidget.
“You have lovely dark hair. Striking blue eyes too. Dubois. Hmm...”
“I believe the baby was given to a rich family. They needed an heir so it was done quietly. The child would be eight now.”
The woman’s brows rose. “A dark-haired baby and a rich family. You must mean the Everetts.”
Anna’s heart jolted at the sound of the name. They might well be her son’s adopted parents.
“They adopted a baby?”
“Yes, a boy. Looked like you. We had to do the paperwork of course, but it was all made-up. If anyone found out their heir was adopted, it could have caused all sorts of problems. The mother hid herself away for months then arrived to collect a new-born.” She shook her head. “What rich people will do to keep their money is beyond me.”
“And you think that was my child?”
“I think it very likely, my dear. But what do you plan to do with the knowledge? Your child will be grown now. He will likely have no knowledge of the manner of his birth. Do you wish to ch
ange that?”
“I-I do not know.”
“Then I would think carefully before doing anything, my dear. Believe me, I have seen the consequences of many a rushed action and none of it is pleasant.”
Anna thanked the woman and left. The Everetts. She knew that family. They had been in Spain for a few years and returned recently. She might have even spoken to Lady Everett at the ball. They had a son. He was the right age. It had to be him.
She wandered sightlessly through the streets toward the finer houses in Kensington. It must have taken her nearly an hour, but it felt like no time at all. Before she knew it, she was standing outside of Lord and Lady Everett’s London house.
Breathing was near impossible. Anna paused outside of the gates and forced herself to take several long breaths. The big ball of anxiety in her stomach refused to abate. Still, there was no going back. She had to do this. Had to meet her child.
Curling shaky hands around the huge wrought iron gate, she eased it open and winced at the squeak it made. What would she say? What would she even do? Her heart continued to pound, picking up its pace.
A short gravel path led up to the front door and wound around the side of the house. Neatly trimmed grass occupied the space at the side of the house and there were a few gardeners pruning the ones that surrounded the building.
Anna swallowed. She could hardly knock and demand to see her son. They would think her a madwoman.
Glancing around, she surmised no one had seen her approach and walked around the side of the sandy-coloured building. She moved with authority, as if she belonged there. A large household like this would have many servants and people coming and going. With any luck, no one would notice her.
The gardens weren’t huge—at least not like one would see in the country. More grass spanned the area with box trees announcing the end of the space. A few elegant stone pots added interest. She spied the servants’ entrance. Her palms were clammy beneath her gloves. She couldn’t help wish Harris was here, but she had feared he wouldn’t approve. She hardly knew what she was doing herself. But she could wait no longer. She had to see her son for herself.
Anna scurried over to the door and paused at the sound of voices. Farther around the building, a woman called out. As Anna eased around to observe her, the woman darted back, a tennis racket in hand. She laughed as she scooped up a ball and served it back to her partner.
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