He didn’t doubt Finn’s words because he knew his brother was an expert when it came to shattered hearts. “Is it hard, Finn?” he asked somberly. “Is it hard not telling your daughter you’re her father?”
Finn had only recently learned he had a daughter. “One of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but it helps that the couple raising her are good people and don’t object to my spending time with her. As a matter of fact, of late, I’ve been helping her build a cottage in a tree. She’s an adventurous one, my little sprite.”
In Finn’s voice, Aiden heard all the love he held for the child, and he fully understood it. He himself had met the adorable little girl. All the family had spent time in her company because Finn didn’t have to keep her a secret. He had only to protect her from the knowledge he was her father until she was older and able to fully understand all the circumstances surrounding her birth. But Aiden wouldn’t have that luxury. His child, should he have one by Selena, would have to remain a secret, even from those he loved and trusted. And he could never admit to being the father—not under any circumstances. They might design a scenario where he could spend time with the lad or lass, but it wouldn’t be as open as Finn’s relationship with his daughter. Finn’s child wasn’t being raised among the aristocracy. Aiden’s would be and that made his being in the child’s life in a believable way all the more difficult.
Once Selena and her sisters arrived home, in the foyer, they all handed their cloaks and hats to the butler.
“Girls, I need a moment of your time in the library,” Selena announced. Preceding them into the room, she went straightway to the sideboard and poured herself a sherry for fortitude. Turning, she smiled at her sisters, who all wore identical furrows in their brows. “Please sit.”
She indicated a nearby sitting area with two small sofas and one plush chair. Taking the chair, she waited while they settled themselves on the sofas. “I need to go to Sheffield Hall in the morning to see to some business.”
Connie looked at Flo and Alice, then met Selena’s gaze. “We’ll go with you.”
“I need you all to remain here. People are still stopping by to offer their condolences, and I would like you to represent me in my short absence. I’ll return tomorrow evening.” All Aiden had to do was catch a glimpse of the estate, the manor house, and he would be impressed with the grandness of what his son would inherit.
Flo angled her head in thought. “Why do you have to go?”
“A matter’s been brought to my attention that requires my presence.” She hated lying to them, but it was preferable to the truth.
“What matter?”
“It has to do with the estate.”
“In what manner?”
“I’m not exactly certain, which is the reason I have to go.” She shot to her feet, paced three steps away before returning. “Please, just know that it’s crucial to your futures.”
“I don’t understand—”
She interrupted Flo. “You don’t need to. Simply trust me. And do as I ask. Remain here, and if anyone should inquire regarding my absence, explain that I had to tend to business at Sheffield Hall.”
“Yes, all right.”
“Thank you.” She returned to the chair, tried to think of what else she might say to reassure them, was grateful when the butler strode in, carrying a package wrapped in brown paper.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Grace, but this was just delivered for Lady Alice.”
“For me?” The look of surprise on Alice’s face was a bit comical, but then she had no swain to send her little gifts and it was unusual for something to be delivered this time of night. She took the proffered package, and the butler made his exit.
“What is it?” Connie asked.
“Well, I don’t know.” Alice glanced over at Selena. “Shall I open it?”
“Yes, of course.”
After pulling the string, granting the bow its freedom, she folded back the paper and gasped as a book came into view. A note rested on top. She smiled. “It’s from Mr. Aiden Trewlove.”
“What does it say?” Connie asked impatiently.
Alice handed it to Selena.
The best escapes are found within the pages of a book. Enjoy your journey Through the Looking-Glass.
—Your ever-faithful servant, Aiden Trewlove
“He caught me reading it at the shop,” Alice confessed. “But it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to keep it, would it?”
Oh, Alice had certainly passed the test, and for some unaccountable reason his gifting her with the book made Selena’s eyes burn. “Under the circumstances, I think it’s entirely appropriate. Write a letter to thank him and give it to me before you retire. I’ll post it tomorrow on my way to Sheffield Hall.”
“He might be a commoner,” Alice said, “but I don’t believe he is common.”
No, Selena thought, he wasn’t common at all.
Chapter 18
The following dawn, Selena wasn’t at all surprised to see Aiden standing by a lamppost outside his club. The coach had barely slowed when he opened the door, hopped in, and pounded the ceiling before settling in across from her. The vehicle carried on, the horses barely breaking stride.
And the confines suddenly seemed far too small. His presence enveloped the space, his scent of bay rum wafted around her. She had a strong urge to invite him to sit beside her, to have the warmth of his body seep into her on this chilly morning. Although to be honest, she wouldn’t object to his warmth seeping into her on a sultry afternoon. It was somewhat torturous to have him so near and yet so far away. She finally found the wherewithal to greet him properly. “Good morning.”
“You smell differently in the morning.”
He couldn’t have unsettled her more if he’d leaned in and kissed her. Words failed her.
“You carry the scent of sleep.” His voice was low, raw, as though he were imagining awakening with her in his arms and sniffing every inch of her skin.
“Perhaps you’ll experience it before I awaken if we move forward with the plans.” She was rather proud of that volley, could sense him going very still across from her.
“If I don’t agree to strive to get you with child—it doesn’t mean we can’t become involved.”
She’d spent a good deal of last night, when she couldn’t sleep, ruminating on that possibility, to simply lose herself in him, surrounded by him. To escape with him would be far more rewarding than the pages of any book. But that was a selfish desire, want. She had such a short time in which to gain what she needed. “I fear, Mr. Trewlove, you have the wrong of it there. If you cannot give me what I require, I will have to go elsewhere.”
Although she couldn’t imagine taking another man between her thighs. Even now she wanted Aiden with a need that was frightening. Rather than remain on that path of thought, she decided to alter the direction of their conversation. “It was very kind of you to send the book to Alice.”
The sky was lightening, and she more easily saw his shrug, as though his gift had been nothing at all. Reaching into her reticule, she removed the sealed letter that Alice had given her and held it out to him. “Alice sends her appreciation.”
He took the missive and tucked it into a pocket inside the left breast of his jacket.
“I take it she passed your test.”
With a deep sigh, he stretched out his long legs, so his booted feet rested on either side of hers. “I like your sisters.”
It was a simple statement, but it held a great deal of warmth and approval. “I like yours as well. And your brothers. The little bit I saw of them.”
“Fancy had them working their backsides off.”
“She has a great deal of ambition, your sister.”
“We all do.” He glanced out the window. “Nothing was handed to us, nothing has come easily.”
She wondered if he were contemplating how easily he might hand his son a dukedom. Or his daughter properties and marriage into the nobility. He was the result of a man who
seemed to plant his seed hither and yon with no regard for the consequences. Aiden, on the other hand, accepted responsibility for all his actions. She didn’t think his adopted mother would have accepted less of her children.
“The cook prepared us a light repast. Bread, cheese, boiled eggs.” She would have tapped the wicker basket on the floor in the corner if it wouldn’t have meant tangling her skirts in his leg, having it between her calves, conjuring up images of other aspects of him between her knees.
“I’ve eaten, thank you. Would you like me to hand the basket up to you?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not hungry.” She’d eaten as well, worried that with his nearness her stomach might have knotted until she couldn’t digest properly. What if he wasn’t impressed with Sheffield Hall?
They were leaving London proper now, the buildings becoming sparser, more distance separating them. The sun was rising ever higher. It appeared spring might be well on its way to making itself known.
“Fancy is your mother’s daughter, born to her, unlike the rest of you, who were not.” The resemblance between mother and daughter was striking.
His eyes slid away from the view to land on her with the full weight of his attention. “Yes.”
“So when you were first brought to her, she was married. You had both a father and a mother.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “No, she was already a widow. She took in bastards as a means for supporting herself. But it’s not a lucrative practice if you allow the children to live. Their upkeep is costly, much more than the few coins placed in your palm when you take them.”
The practice of farming out children born out of wedlock so the mother could remain as untainted as possible was becoming more widely known. Selena had read several articles written by Lady Lavinia exposing the horrors of what she’d discovered in her quest to rescue children from those who would do them harm. “Your mother was not married when Fancy was born?”
“Just spit it out, Selena. Fancy is a bastard, like all of us. And before you travel a path and view my mum as immoral, know that Fancy was the result of our mum doing what she had to do to ensure our survival. When she didn’t have coins for the landlord, he took payment in other ways. Fancy was an unintended consequence.” His gaze bore into her. “So I understand your desperation.”
He was liking her situation to his mother’s? They were nothing alike. But the argument fell short because they were indeed very similar: she was willingly going to take a man within her body in order to ensure the best lives possible for her siblings. His mother had been doing it for the children she’d adopted. “I was not sitting in judgment of her.”
“Weren’t you?”
She refrained from nodding, shamed by the realization that she had been. That she had judged the woman a sinner, that she herself would be as harshly judged if anyone realized what she had done. “You told me once that you were fourteen when Fancy was born. I can’t imagine things went well for the landlord once you and your brothers realized how he was exacting payment.”
His grin was wolfish, predatory, lethal. “It doesn’t go well for any man we discover has taken advantage of a woman.”
She wasn’t surprised. She’d noted the protective bent of his nature, perhaps had even unconsciously sought to take advantage of it. Instinctively she knew if he got her with child, he would keep a watch over his offspring to ensure no harm would ever come to him or her—even if he did it from a distance. The guilt gnawed at her because if they managed to work out a way for him to participate in the child’s life publicly, he would never be able to acknowledge him or her. She was being exceedingly unfair to Aiden. She’d assumed a great majority of men would not care. She’d loved her own father, but he had given her very little attention. It seemed matters were always calling to him, although at the moment she thought if he’d truly been seeing to his estates as she’d always assumed, his death would not have left it in shambles.
“There is a goodness to you that I’d not expected. People assume those born in sin are destined to sin.”
“I’ve done my fair share of sinning.” He said it as though he took great pride in his misbehavior, but if not for it, they wouldn’t be here now. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen him. That and the way he appealed to her on a more primal level.
He hadn’t worn gloves. She wondered if he even owned a pair. Although she thought it would be a shame to cover those bare hands that rested on his thighs. Hands with roughened palms that titillated her when they skimmed over her flesh. Capable hands. Strong yet amazingly gentle. Perhaps she should give up her quest for a child and simply take him as a lover. Never to marry but to live out the remainder of her life blissfully in his arms.
The sun was suddenly far too bright, fairly filling the conveyance with warmth, threatening to broil her on the spot. She needed to distract herself from thoughts of what his hands could do to her, of how tempting it was to invite him over to her side of the carriage and let him have his way with her. As though he followed the direction of her thoughts, his hands clamped his thighs, the muscles and tendons bulging, and she wondered if another aspect of him bulged as well. “Have you traveled beyond London before?”
His eyes slowly closed, opened, and his penetrating stare through half-lowered lids told her that he knew precisely what she was about. Why was she not surprised? They were far too attuned with each other, especially now that he knew all her secrets.
“When I was younger, I would save my coins until I could afford a trip on the railway, just to see what lay beyond what I knew.”
“You’ve a curious nature.”
A long nod that affirmed her conclusion. “I once thought of running off to sea. I wanted to explore more of the world. I was in search of a place where life was better than what I knew, and then I realized that I had it within me to create the better.”
“And is your life better?”
“I want for naught.”
“You want for nothing at all?”
“What should I want for, Lena?” His voice was low, sultry, hinted at stolen kisses and pilfered minutes and thieved touches.
Me. The solitary word was a lonesome wail within her heart and soul. She wanted him to want her with a need that matched hers for him, with a hunger that didn’t care about consequences and wouldn’t allow him to sit so calmly opposite her but would drive him to cross over and take her within his arms, claim her mouth, her body, her senses. But she had too much pride to confess to that.
She wanted him to bed her not because her sisters were worthy or the estate would bring his child riches, but because he would cease to breathe if he did not. Instead, she squeezed her gloved hands together in her lap. “Sleep, I should think.”
The hysteria edging her voice caused her to inwardly flinch, and the awkward laugh that followed didn’t help matters. “Knowing how you keep watch over your establishment into the wee hours, I can’t imagine you retired at a reasonable hour and you had to arise so frightfully early. Please don’t feel a need to entertain me”—she did wish all the various ways he might entertain her physically hadn’t rushed through her mind in a kaleidoscope of images—“during the journey. Rest for a bit. I’ll awaken you when we near.”
“I am a bit weary.” He crossed his arms over his chest, settled back more fully against the squabs, and closed his eyes.
His legs relaxed more, stretched a bit farther, until she was fully imprisoned within them. Not that she had any desire to go anywhere. Soon he was snoring lightly, and she imagined herself with a child who had brown hair, feathery streaks here and there burnished to a faint, pleasing red. Long, thick, sooty lashes that rested on sharp cheekbones. She wanted to reach across and press a kiss to the underside of that strong jaw, wanted to snuggle against him and find her own slumber.
Instead she merely watched him sleep, wishing she could make his claim. I want for naught.
But she couldn’t because it was dawning on her as brightly as the sun now hover
ing over them that she wanted what she couldn’t have: him walking proudly beside her for all the world to see. But she couldn’t risk any doubt regarding her child’s parentage, would not risk him or her growing up as the subject of whispers.
Perhaps they could keep their relationship clandestine until they knew how much the child favored him. And if he favored him not at all, maybe in a few years, once she was out of mourning, once enough time had passed so no suspicions surfaced—
But if the child favored him, they wouldn’t be able to risk people seeing them together. She would not allow her child to doubt his parentage. The sins were hers. She wouldn’t pass them on to her child, would not risk his having to defend his birthright. Or his mother. Would he end up in a brawl, slashed by a knife, because someone called her a whore?
They would have to be secretive about his time with the child, his time with her. For the sake of their little one, whom they would need to protect from the truth at all costs.
He dreamed of removing her black-veiled hat and tossing it out the window, so shadows could no longer lurk over her face and keep her true feelings hidden from him. Of unclasping her pelisse and giving freedom to every button on her traveling frock. Of taking her on the well-padded cushions, holding her close afterward, and yelling up to the driver to never bring the carriage to a halt. To simply spend eternity traveling about within these confines where no one was present to judge them, where Society held no sway, where they were hidden away from censure, where his time with her wasn’t measured in hours but in years.
It was her hand nudging his knee that woke him. Opening his eyes to her tender smile was bittersweet. Why should he care if he gave her a child? He knew she would love it, would see that it had every advantage. Its status would be elevated, far above his.
But even knowing all this, he couldn’t get past the notion that he would be aping his father, creating a child only to cast it aside, to not be part and parcel of its life. In truth, not having his sire involved in his upbringing had been a blessing, but the man’s blatant disregard for his offspring, his foisting them off on others, still had a way of making Aiden feel worthless. His existence had been a mere inconvenience. He didn’t want his child to ever harbor the same sentiment, to believe he’d not been wanted.
The Duchess in His Bed Page 22
