One Tempting Proposal

by Christy Carlyle

  “She truly has turned your head.”

  Seb nodded to acknowledge what was impossible to deny.

  She’d turned his head, scrambled his wits, derailed his hard-­won peace of mind, and made him yearn for her company each day. There was his list—­all the ways Kat had wrought havoc in his life. And he’d only known the woman a week.

  Yet she wasn’t the only one to blame. He’d made his choices.

  After all, he was the impulsive fool with a four-­cornered bulk dragging down the corner of his pocket, riding the edge of a wound that should have taught him years before about the dangers of making sound choices when a tempting woman was involved.

  “THE BOY SHOULD be down any moment. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

  Seb couldn’t rally any of the giddiness he detected in his aunt’s voice, but he believed the sincerity of her enthusiasm. He would be kind to the lad, of course, and civil to Alecia, if she was present for his meeting with the boy. Whatever she’d been to him, he preferred to leave it in the past, but she was the child’s mother.

  Queasiness shot through his belly as a thought struck.

  “Who does he think I am? What has she told him?”

  If this was all true, what rifts would it cause between Alecia and her husband? And between the boy and the man who likely believed he was the child’s father? Seb didn’t know Naughton well, but he doubted the pompous lord would have married Alecia if he suspected she carried another man’s child.

  “I believe he’s been told only that you’re the Duke of Wrexford, a friend of his mother’s, and that you wish to make his acquaintance.”

  Seb released his white-­knuckle hold on the arms of his aunt’s damask chair. He still doubted Alecia’s son was his own, but he’d feared she might lie or toy with the child’s emotions as she did with everyone else’s. He released the breath he’d been holding and felt a moment of gratitude toward the woman who’d caused him such pain. At least she had the sense to protect the boy’s feelings.

  “I am so pleased you’ll finally get to meet him. The rest can be managed. If the boy is your son, he should know his father.”

  Her lack of concern for Lord Naughton shocked him, but her willingness to believe Alecia’s story did not.

  “Aunt Augusta, there’s a very good chance this boy isn’t my son. You don’t know Lady Naughton as I do.”

  She shot him a saucy look, clearly investing his words with a double meaning he hadn’t intended.

  “I’ve known Alecia for years, from my youth, and used to believe her every word. Bit by bit, I learned she rarely speaks the truth. She’s told me lie after lie, about her own family, where she was born, even her age. You can’t fault me for doubting her now.”

  His aunt tilted her head and her mouth puckered in a sad moue. “Would a mother do this to her own child?”

  Alecia was the one person in his life who never behaved as he expected. “I don’t know. Does she need funds?”

  “If the rumors about Lord Naughton are true, I suspect she might,” his aunt acknowledged. “She claims her life with him hasn’t been easy. He’s not . . . an ideal husband. The earl drinks, gambles, and pursues his romantic inclinations elsewhere.”

  Seb shook his head. “Naughton was her choice, and he’s her burden to bear. She had other options, believe me. I was only one of them.” He knew of Charles Page, Naughton, and suspected there’d been others.

  Aunt Augusta pinched her eyes in a thoughtful expression, and then stretched up tall, looking very much the poised genteel lady he’d first met when he was a boy.

  “If the boy is yours, Sebastian, you must make peace with Alecia, for his sake. But if she’s lying”—­she lifted her chin and one dark brow winged up—­“well, let’s just say I will see that she regrets her lies. For attempting to wound you, and for entangling an innocent boy in her scheme.”

  The drawing room door swung open and her serious expression transformed into an indulgent grin. “Oh look, here is young Master Archie.” There was no mistaking the genuine warmth in her tone. “Archie, may I present my nephew, the Duke of Wrexford?”

  The boy strode into the room confidently, his head held high, but the tremor in his slim frame belied his direct gaze.

  Seb studied the boy, seeking any signs that might remind him of himself. Then a figure loomed behind Archie, and Seb looked up to find Alecia’s ice blue gaze locked on his face.

  The child’s demeanor changed when his mother walked in the room. He dropped his gaze to the floor as if uncertain, stifling all the curiosity of moments before.

  Something in Seb rebelled. He didn’t want to do this on Alecia’s terms, or even his aunt’s.

  “Would you care to join me for a walk, Archie?”

  Alecia’s expression turned thunderous. “No, he doesn’t want a walk. Why not sit and take tea with the ladies? Lady Stamford and I were just going to ring for some.”

  The boy struggled, his eyes darting from the window and then back at his mother’s face. Archie seemed snared between his desire to be out in the sun and the impulse to obey his mother.

  “It’s a fine day for a walk,” Seb added to encourage the boy. “Come, Archie. We must catch the sunshine while we can. What do you say?”

  The child nodded his head before slanting another wary gaze at Alecia.

  “Very well,” she huffed, “I shall accompany you. Let me just get my wrap.”

  “Nonsense, Lady Naughton,” Seb cut in. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your tea with Lady Stamford. Does Archie have a nanny or governess who might accompany us?”

  Archie piped up. “I have Miss Perkins. She teaches me my lessons and looks after me when Mama cannot.” Excitement fizzed up in the boy like the bubbles of a chemical reaction climbing the neck of a beaker. “And she likes to walk too, Your Grace. She walks every day or rides her bicycle.”

  “She sounds like my sister Pippa. Shall we see if Miss Perkins can join us?”

  Alecia shot him a scowl that in days of old would have left a gaping wound of worry about how he’d offended or displeased her, but today it only sparked an almost pleasant tickle.

  “I’m certain she’s available to accompany you,” his aunt reassured before arching a brow at Alecia.

  After stalking out of the room, Alecia returned a moment later with an extremely tall red-­haired woman in her wake. Beyond her bright hair and height, Miss Perkins seemed unremarkable in appearance, but she exuded a kind of constrained energy, as if her plain blue dress and the very walls around her were keeping her from action.

  The governess’s eyes popped wide when his aunt introduced her to Sebastian and she stuck out her hand before retracting it and executing a graceful curtsy.

  “Then you’ll join us, Miss Perkins?”

  “I would be pleased to, Your Grace.”

  Seb breathed a chesty sigh of relief the minute they stepped out of his aunt’s town house, and he was surprised to see Archie take a deep breath too.

  “Spring is my favorite season. You can smell everything blooming.” The child turned to him and smiled.

  They started onto the pavement and turned the corner toward Hyde Park with Miss Perkins following a few steps behind.

  “Are you fond of botany, Archie?”

  Archie turned back to glance up at his governess. “Miss Perkins is teaching me about plants and trees and everything that grows. But I prefer animals, I think. Zoology.”

  “He’s a curious boy, which makes my job more adventure than burden.”

  Seb turned back to gaze at Archie’s governess. The woman bounced when she walked and took in the Mayfair streets with hungry glances in each direction, as if she didn’t want to miss any details. Seb suspected she’d find a means of turning any burden into an adventure.

  As they entered the park, they kept to the far side of the path, avoi
ding those on horseback. Seb directed the boy and his governess toward the waterside where he’d made a fool of himself—­the memory of it and Kat in her elaborate hat made him smile.

  A few steps later, he realized he was walking alone and looked back to find Archie and Miss Perkins chatting with a young man on horseback. Or, rather, they fawned over the young man’s horse. The muscular bay with a white blaze under its forelock dipped its head so that Archie could scratch its snout. Apparently the boy liked horses. While it didn’t preclude the possibility he was Seb’s son, it certainly wasn’t a trait they shared.

  “Come meet Hellion, Your Grace.” The boy stared at him expectantly.

  Sounds inviting. Seb stepped gingerly toward the massive creature and nodded his head in greeting. A verbal introduction seemed a bit much.

  “He’s magnificent, don’t you think?” The enthusiasm in Archie’s tone left no doubt that he thought so.

  Extraordinarily tall and probably capable of crushing the boy under his hooves.

  Archie gazed at the animal like Kat looked at her plants.

  “Impressive, indeed.” Seb could allow that, at least.

  “Do you remember the Latin name, Archibald?” the boy’s governess prompted.

  Seb’s knowledge of zoological families only extended to Equus.

  “Equus ferus caballus,” the boy rattled off as if the name had already been on the tip of his tongue.

  “Do you have many horses, Your Grace?”

  “A few.” A fine stable full, actually, though they’d all been acquired by his predecessor.

  “My father is one of the finest horsemen in England.” The boy puffed out his diminutive chest with the declaration.

  His father. Lord Naughton. It seemed the boy’s opinion of his father was much higher than Lady Stamford’s.

  “Do you know my father well, or just my mama?”

  “I knew him long ago.” So far in the past that he couldn’t recall the color of Naughton’s eyes. Archie’s pale green eyes didn’t match his mother’s, nor Seb’s, but in all other aspects the boy’s rounded childish face mirrored Alecia’s—­the high cheekbones, narrow nose, and a thin lower lip crested by a full upper Cupid’s bow. Even the way he tilted his head and inclined his mouth into a half grin reminded Seb of Alecia. And nothing about the boy resonated within him. Wouldn’t he sense if this was his child? Clever and polite, Archie would make any parent proud, but Seb knew, bone deep, that the boy wasn’t his.

  No relief came with the certainty. Instead, his heart rattled as if his chest had become a hollow space. Alecia would fight him. Of that he had no doubt. If she’d set her mind on convincing him and his aunt that he’d fathered the child, she would not cede defeat easily. And if she fought hard enough, if she argued Archie’s paternity loudly enough, eventually the boy would hear the rumors and be snagged in the middle. He clearly idolized Naughton. Whatever kind of husband the man was to Alecia, he’d clearly made his son proud.

  “Sebastian!”

  Seb turned at the sound of a child calling his name and saw Violet Adderley bounding toward him. He stepped away from the massive stallion so that she wouldn’t frighten the beast. She walked quickly but a bit stiffly, as if the exuberance of being nine challenged all the etiquette lessons she’d been taught. Stopping before him, she reached out a hand, as Pippa always did, offering a gentlemanly handshake. After taking his hand a moment and then nodding politely in greeting, she twisted back to stare at Kat as she approached.

  The sight of her hit him like a physical force, pressing in on him, and he drew in a steadying breath. He’d dreaded this morning and the encounter with Alecia and her son, but now, seeing Kat, he could barely repress a grin. Sunlight washed over her, highlighting a few strands of hair that had slipped her coiffure, and painting a glow on the arch of her cheeks.

  “Violet, you know better than to amble off like that.” Kat didn’t excel at chastisement. Her eyes were too full of tenderness whenever she looked at either of her sisters, but she managed to cool that emotion when she turned to look at him.

  “Your Grace, what a delightful surprise.” Her tepid tone belied her words and Seb watched her gaze swing from his to Miss Perkins, down to Archie, and up to the young man who’d begun tightening the reins to lead Hellion away.

  “Lady Katherine, may I present Miss Perkins and her charge, Master Archie Naughton.”

  “Naughton?” The frown marring Kat’s brow disappeared almost as soon as it appeared.

  She suspected something was amiss. He saw wariness in her eyes, in the quick intake of breath and the tightening of her mouth. It must look odd to find him wandering Hyde Park with the child of a woman that she already suspected of being his former lover.

  Eyes pinched, she shot him an inquiring gaze. He’d never truly appreciated the way she usually looked at him, with respect and admiration. But he recognized it now as he saw it fading, overshadowed by distrust and uncertainty.

  A cramping pain shot down his back and shoulders, and he stiffened as if his entire body had just been wrenched up and hung on tenterhooks. He should have explained the situation with Alecia to Kat when he’d had the chance.

  “Do you know my mother as well? Or my father?”

  Bending at the waist so that she could look at the boy eye to eye, Kat lifted her hand to him.

  “I am acquainted with your parents, but it is a great pleasure to meet you, Master Archie.” The boy looked momentarily abashed, tongue-­tied, before gathering his wits again.

  “And you, my lady.” After sketching an elaborate bow, Archie tipped his head back toward his governess for approval.

  Miss Perkins beamed with pride.

  “The Duke of Wrexford knows my mother very well, and as Mama and I are visiting his aunt, he wished to make my acquaintance,” he helpfully explained.

  Seb couldn’t stop looking at her face, hoping for the sharp line of her jaw to soften, but she only offered him her profile. He couldn’t even read the emotion in her eyes.

  “And do you find the duke to be a pleasant walking companion?”

  The boy didn’t answer immediately, but he raked Seb with an assessing stare, every inch the aristocratic young man his father would expect him to be.

  “He seems to know his way around Hyde Park, although I don’t think he much likes horses.”

  It seemed a sin among nobles not to revere horseflesh.

  “Archibald!” Miss Perkins flexed the full prowess of her stern governess scowl, and the child ducked his head and bit his bottom lip, instantly contrite.

  “It’s quite all right, Miss Perkins.” The last thing Seb wanted was to earn the boy a scolding.

  “You’ll find, Miss Perkins, that the Duke of Wrexford is very fond of plain speaking and honesty,” Kat lilted.

  He hated the disappointment in her gaze—­not anger or even confusion—­just a long piercing glare, as if she was looking at him again for the first time and found him far less impressive this go around.

  “Come, Violet, we must get back in time for luncheon.”

  “Kat. Lady Katherine, may I call on you later?”

  “No.” The finality in her tone pricked like a thorn under his skin.

  “Your sister and I are going shopping. Have you forgotten?”

  He had forgotten. This business with Alecia, with her son, had consumed him. The worry of what he’d do, how he could make amends for missing out on years of the boy’s life had gnawed at him from the moment he’d opened his eyes. And he still felt no certainty the boy was even his son.

  “Then I shall see you when the two of you return with feathered hats?”

  Not even his reference to their previous adventure in the park inspired a bit of levity in Kat.

  “Perhaps, Your Grace. Good day, Master Archie, and to you, Miss Perkins.”

  He watched her walk away, an
d his body tensed, ratcheting tighter with every step. He held his breath, willing her to look back at him, to give him some sliver of hope. She never turned. He gulped in a breath of air, reminding himself he’d see her in a few hours, when she returned from shopping with Pippa.

  But what would happen when their feigned engagement ended? He’d asked her father for her hand in marriage, but if Archie was truly his son, he couldn’t offer for Kat.

  He’d have to tell her the truth of it, and she’d walk away from him as she did now, without a second glance.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “THIS ONE’S MY favorite. What do you think, Kitty?” Philippa Fennick held up a smart little hat, carnation pink with delphinium blue accents, and nearly dropped it when the Wrexford brougham hit a rough spot on the cobblestones and she lurched forward.

  Rather than become irritated as Cynthia Osgood or some of Kitty’s other friends might, Sebastian’s sister simply chuckled and righted herself. The young woman had an unassailable cheerfulness about her, and guilt for how she’d treated Pippa during their first encounter niggled at the back of Kitty’s mind.

  “That one is lovely, but I like them all. You have excellent taste.”

  Pippa cast her a dubious glance. “I’m not sure that’s true. I wouldn’t have had any idea what to choose if you hadn’t been with me. To be honest, I’ve never bothered much with fashion.”

  Kitty couldn’t detect any embarrassment or regret in the statement. Much like her brother, Pippa simply stated the truth artlessly. Or at least it seemed Sebastian spoke the truth. She’d been fool enough to believe it also meant he revealed all of himself. But he’d never promised her that. In fact, he’d insisted in Lady Stamford’s garden that they keep their secrets to themselves.

  “I don’t know a bit about fashion,” Pippa continued. “When I buy a hat, it’s to keep the sun off my skin. I never worry what they look like.” Sebastian’s sister grinned. “Thank you, Kitty. You’ve taught me a lesson today. I never imagined buying a pretty hat could be such a satisfying endeavor.”