* * *
The journey to Cheshire seemed endless. When it wasn’t raining—which it did during most daylight hours—the gray sky and bleak countryside mirrored Cornelia’s grim spirits. Her maid’s inane chatter gave her a headache that would not be cured, and the dips in the muddy road made it impossible to sleep. Innkeepers and serving staff did not seem inclined to extend to her the same deference as before, when her husband accompanied her. She and Norton took to having their meals in their cramped rooms rather than endure the leers of other patrons in the taproom. On several occasions, she found herself having to dispute charges when some insolent rogue tried to overcharge her.
All in all, she missed having a husband to travel with. Truthfully, she missed Preston.
He was witty and charming and full of stories from his adventures on the Continent that kept her enthralled or laughing uncontrollably, and sometimes both. He noticed things that other people missed—no doubt, a skill that served him well during his undercover service—and at the same time he wanted to hear what she had to say, about her life, her family, her work with the Foundling Hospital, books, politics, anything she wanted to share. Warmth and sincerity shone in his eyes when he looked at her, and as their honeymoon progressed, she thought—imagined—there was something more than friendship in them.
Knowing that he would be leaving soon for India, and that she had no business falling in love with an absent husband, she had hurriedly organized a trip to Hampshire to visit Frederica and her new baby. But it was too late. As delighted as she was to see her old friend again, she found herself longing for Preston, and soon had to come to terms with the fact that she had fallen in love with him. Who would not? Preston was imminently lovable.
How foolish she had been to believe she could solve her problems by entangling herself in a pretend marriage without expecting some sort of consequence.
Passing through Stretton, where they had spent their wedding night, the time for reflection ended. Only a few short miles lay between her and Warrington Manor, and Cornelia would have to face her future. Not just hers, though, but Preston’s, and his family’s, as well. She sat straight in her seat and considered what she would say when she rejoined them.
What could one say to a woman who had not only lost a child, but failed at what many would say was a woman’s most important duty: producing an heir for her husband? Enlightened men would not blame their wives for a twist of fate so completely outside their control, but the woman likely would. The only thing Cornelia could think to say that might make Joanna feel better was something she could not say.
It isn’t your fault, Joanna. You’re not alone. Responsibility for the title no longer rests on your shoulders alone. I cannot promise I can succeed, but I will do my best to assure your future and the future of your children.
Telling her the truth wasn’t an option, either.
* * *
Preston stood at the front steps when the carriage pulled up to the door. He watched eagerly for a glimpse of Cornelia’s face through the window, instantly aware of how much he had missed her. While he wasn’t looking forward to the difficult conversation ahead of them, his heart raced in anticipation of having her near him once again.
He opened the carriage door and put down the steps, wholly intending to help her down in a dignified manner, but when he offered his arm, she lost her balance and fell into his embrace, her breasts crushed against his chest.
She stared up at him, wide-eyed. “I tripped.”
He smiled down at her. “So I see.”
“I believe you can put me down, sir.”
He lifted a brow. “Are you certain it is safe?”
She drew in a deep breath that lifted her breasts over her bodice enough to send his heart into erratic rhythms.
“I believe so.” She blushed charmingly. “But it is rather nice to have you there to catch me.”
“My pleasure entirely.” He set her down carefully.
Memories of all the times he had helped her out of the carriage to observe a particularly beautiful prospect or to search for a pleasant site for a picnic flooded him, easing the anxiety that knotted his belly.
She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. “How fares Joanna? You said in your note that she was improving, but that was ages ago.”
Preston’s chest tightened. “She is better, although she hovered at death’s door for several days. William has been frantic with worry. I have never seen him so desperate. He still worries. Joanna has some ways to go before she is fully recovered.” He hesitated. “But Cornelia, there is something—”
“Cornelia.” William emerged from the house. “How wonderful to see you again.”
Cornelia faced him. “Thank you, William. I am happy to see you, as well. I-I am sorry about the trouble you have had. Preston tells me Joanna is recovering, though? I have been greatly worried since I received his note.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for your kindness. My wife is improved.” His expression clouded. “There was a time when we thought— Well, happily, we did not have to deal with the worst possible outcome. Do come in, my dear. Joanna bade me bring you to her right away, so eager she is to see you.”
“We will talk later,” Preston whispered as they followed William into the house.
Cornelia nodded grimly. Had she guessed about Joanna’s situation? Oh, how he wished they could speak privately. He took a deep breath and attempted to rein in his apprehension.
* * *
Cornelia caught sight of Joanna, sitting on the terrace next to a table with a pitcher of lemonade and a filled glass in front of her. Wrapped in a thick blanket, her face, thin and gaunt, had dark circles under her eyes. She was the farthest thing possible from the happy, effervescent woman Cornelia had met a few weeks earlier.
Cornelia hurried to Joanna’s side. Cornelia knelt and grasped both her hands. “I heard about the babe. I’m so very sorry.”
Joanna’s slight frame seemed to shrink as her head slumped to her chest. “It was a boy,” she sobbed. “An heir, at last.”
Cornelia’s throat constricted. What could she say? Nothing would help. “I am sorry,” she said with a sympathetic glance at both Joanna and William. “I am so glad Preston sent for me. I know things look black for you now, but you will get better. I will remain by your side as long as it takes to nudge you back to health. Preston too,” she said, with a nod in his direction. “We are family, and that is what family does for each other.”
For an instant, Joanna’s eyes filled with hope, and Cornelia drew her into a gentle embrace. When she drew back, Preston shoved a chair to Joanna’s right, and Cornelia sat in the chair to her left. Preston remained standing, like a hawk ready to swoop.
“Forgive me, Cornelia,” Joanna whispered. “I did not wish to discomfit you by turning morbid so soon after your arrival. It’s just that—well, seeing you so vigorous and healthy—” She burst into fresh tears and accepted the handkerchief Cornelia offered her. Joanna dabbed at her eyes. “I shan’t be having any more children, you see.”
Cornelia didn’t flutter an eyelash. Here it comes. She handed Joanna the glass of lemonade sitting in front of her and urged her to drink. “Remember, you have three very delightful daughters.”
“Aunt Cornelia!” With perfect timing, the three girls burst from the house, followed by their governess.
“We heard the servants bringing up your trunks, and when the children went to the window and saw their uncle’s carriage—” The governess shrugged.
Cornelia rose to embrace her nieces.
Twenty minutes later, when William insisted that Joanna retire for a nap, Preston said, “Cornelia, perhaps you would like a rest, as well?”
She nodded, and kissed each of the girls, then left them with the governess and allowed Preston to lead her into the house.
In the hallway, out of earshot, Preston said, “I am sorry, I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone but me.”
She nodded. “I
know.”
His mouth fell open. “You knew?”
They reached the stairs and started up. “I suspected. Your note did sound rather desperate. I suspected she might have incurred some sort of damage in the process.”
He shook his head. “We were overwhelmed with fear that she might not survive. William stayed by her side night and day, and I tried to keep the girls occupied.”
Cornelia squeezed his hand. “It must have seemed an eternity. Only imagine how dreadful it would have been for the entire family had she not survived—leaving William alone with the little girls.”
They reached her bedchamber and he paused outside the door, focusing his gaze on her eyes. “I always assumed my older brother could withstand anything, but now I see that he is as vulnerable as the rest of us. He’d never be the same without Joanna, and the girls without their… It is unfathomable.”
He swallowed and continued on in a husky tone. “Cornelia, I—. For the first time, I recognized my responsibility to my family. They need me. I suppose they always have, but I was always too busy pursuing my own selfish whims to see it.”
Cornelia tilted her head up and kissed him on the cheek. “We must talk, Preston. Would you like to come in?”
He hesitated. “Thank you, but tea will be served shortly, and I know how weary you must be from your travels. Perhaps we can walk to the folly after tea. We should not be interrupted there, unless it rains.”
She chuckled. “No talk of rain, please! We have suffered its ill-effects for nearly the entire journey. Since it hardly rained at all on our previous trip, I must conclude that it was your presence that made the difference.”
“Since we have been plagued with incessant rains here as well, I would guess that it is our presence together that brings out the sun.”
He leaned in, kissed her briefly on the mouth, then bowed and crossed to his bedchamber across the hall.
Chapter Ten
After tea
“Are you certain you are not too tired for a walk?” Preston took the crimson silk shawl from Norton and draped it around Cornelia’s shoulders.
Cornelia sighed, glad to be finished with tea. “A good walk is just what I need after being confined in a coach for hours every day. And the weather is particularly fine for a stroll.”
They left the house via the terrace, arm-in-arm, sauntered past the pleasing floral groupings and stone urns of the parterre garden and down the gravel pathway through the wide expanse of grass and trees of Warrington Park.
Finally, Preston said, “She isn’t always so melancholy, you know. I’ve seen glimpses of the real Joanna from time to time, when the girls are around. We try to get her out of the house as much as possible. The doctor says it will take time for her to grieve her loss.”
Cornelia nodded. “Losing a child is a dreadful blow, let alone not being able to have more children. I can’t even imagine…” She wiped away a tear. “But Joanna is strong. She will recover. I will make sure of that.”
“We will, won’t we? Together.” His voice cracked, and Cornelia squeezed his arm. “Yes, we will.”
They walked in silence to the folly, a stone Temple of Venus built on a hill overlooking the lake. The still water sparkled with the reflection of the trees and the setting sun, and Cornelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to absorb the tranquility.
“It’s so lovely here,” she said finally. “And yet you seem so eager to leave it.”
Preston ran a hand through his hair. “It is rather spectacular,” he agreed. “But it is William’s. He was the one with the duty to the title and the estate. My duty—well, I had no duty, as I saw it, except to please myself. It was a fair bargain, I thought.”
She frowned. “You risked your life on the Continent for King and Country. Surely you have not forgotten.”
He grinned. “How very like me to find an honorable way to indulge my inclination for excitement.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
He studied her. “What do you mean?”
“Your work with the Crown. My father told me you were responsible for saving lives, Preston. I don’t know the particulars; as you said, some things must be kept out of the public knowledge, but I won’t have you denying the truth of your noble and brave character, at least not in my presence.”
His mouth fell open. “Cornelia…”
She shook her head. “Nor is there any doubt that you feel just as intensely for your family and your heritage. You are a good man, Preston. Any woman would be proud to be your wife. I’m just sorry that…” Her voice broke off.
He took her elbow and guided her to a seat on the raised base between two of the columns. After a long sigh, he slipped an arm around her waist and quoted:
“The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft a-gley.
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!”
“Indeed, Robbie Burns had it right,” she murmured. “Preston, our bargain seemed so simple. In retrospect, I cannot believe I was so naïve as to think there would be no consequences.” Tears stung her eyes. “Do you think—is there any possible way this marriage can be set aside?”
* * *
Preston closed his eyes, unable to envision a life without Cornelia. He loved her. He wanted nothing more than to be a true husband to her. Above all, however, he wanted her to be happy, and he would not obligate her to be his wife. Still…it appeared she liked him well enough. Successful marriages had begun on far less sturdier foundations.
“I believe the marriage could be annulled,” he said. “I will speak with my solicitor in London, but I suspect the repercussions would be exceedingly unpleasant.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you might consider making ours a true marriage? I have come to believe that you and I would suit each other quite comfortably.”
Cornelia pulled from his embrace and jumped to her feet.
Preston rose. “Forgive me. I should not have asked.”
She shook her head. “It isn’t that. I… My past, I—”
He started at the tears in her eyes. “Cornelia, whatever it is, you can tell me. Surely you know by now that I can be trusted.” Tears slid down her cheeks. He pulled his handkerchief from his inner pocket and handed it to her. “You have nothing to fear from me. I am not one to judge the past conduct of another, most particularly not of a lady I have come to admire.” He wanted to add “and love,” but sensed this was not the time for such a confession.
Cornelia covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. Finally, she turned toward him and blurted, “I am the daughter of a rapist.”
Whatever he expected to hear, it was not that. The admiral… a rapist? Not possible. The Hardcastle family’s affection for each other was genuine—the natural instinct that had made him such a successful spy confirmed it. Furthermore, there was no denying that the bond between the admiral and his wife and daughter was a powerful one. That meant that the rapist who had sired Cornelia had come from outside the family.
He clasped her hands and smiled gently “There, you got it out. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She tilted her head to stare at him. “You’re not—shocked? Disgusted?”
He looked directly into her eyes. “Surprised, yes, certainly. Disgusted? I don’t quite understand your meaning, Cornelia.” His eyes widened. “Unless you are thinking—surely not—that I could be disgusted by you.”
She burst into tears. He pulled her trembling body into his arms and held her close until she quieted and the tears slowed, eventually turning into occasional hiccups. When she raised her head from his chest, he said. “Shall we sit down? When you are ready, you can tell me what it is that has you so distressed.”
Dabbing at her eyes, she nodded and allowed him to guide her back to the stone seat.
“I must look a mess,” she said finally, in a shaky voice.
“You look beautiful.” He stroked gentle ci
rcles on her back.
She made a face. “Liar. I have seen my face in this condition before. Red eyes, splotchy cheeks, shiny nose. Definitely not pretty.”
In response, he turned her face toward his and captured her lips for a tender kiss. Her sweet gasp of surprise tempted him to deepen the embrace into something more passionate, but reined in his desire and broke the kiss.
“Do you still believe I was lying, my dear?” he said.
She swallowed. “Perhaps you are just being kind.”
If she did, indeed, need more convincing… He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, this time with more pressure. He drew back slightly and teased her lips with his tongue, probing between them. She gasped again, but pressed closer and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She smelled of violets and tasted like wild honey. He slid his fingers into her hair. Several pins loosened and dark locks spilled down her back. Preston plunged his tongue between her lips and coerced a timid response from her tongue. He slid his hands down her back and brushed the sides of her breasts before settling possessively at her waist.
My woman. Made for me. She has to know it.
When he pulled back, she looked down, flushed and breathing hard.
“Well?” he said when he found himself able to talk again. “Was that a ‘just being kind’ kiss, do you think?”
She looked up at him, eyes alight with a mischievous glow. “You proved your point. There was nothing ‘kind’ about it. I must allow that you are a magnificent kisser, Preston.”
His breath quickened. “There is nothing I would like better than to kiss you like that every day. Several times a day. I am convinced that we could have an exemplary partnership, my dear, if we were to make our marriage a real one.”
She drew in a breath. “What I said about my—er—real father does not cause you concern?”
He locked gazes with her. “Cornelia, the admiral is your father. Has he not proven it to be so?”
Scandalous Lords and Courtship Page 54
