by Deborah Hale
“Yes…well…” Put like that, his plans for the lad did sound rather unfeeling.
Hadrian reminded himself there was a world of difference between his idea of caring for a child and that of people like the Dearings. His nephew would not pine for a woman who stopped by his nursery now and then or took him for an occasional stroll.
But there was a note of urgency in the lady’s tone he could not deny. “No caretakers, however well paid, could have the same concern for Lee’s welfare as his blood relatives. He is such a little fellow and you will be so far away. How would you know if such people were providing him with proper care?”
“I have eight months to find someone suitable. Surely by then…” Hadrian refused to admit how much her suggestions unsettled him. As did the reminder of his greatest weakness—time. Any legal measures he might take to gain custody of his nephew would not be swiftly resolved. Especially against a family as well connected as the Dearings. To keep the child, Lady Artemis had only to delay until Hadrian was obliged to return to Singapore.
And he had as good as told her so.
If the lady realized it, she did not gloat over the fact. “Perhaps our aims are closer than they might first appear, Mr. Northmore. I want to raise Lee to be a gentleman of honor, as I promised his mother. You have the admirable intention of providing him with every material advantage. Rather than fight over him like those two women in the story of King Solomon, could we not cooperate to give our nephew the best possible upbringing?”
The suggestion sounded reasonable enough. And Lady Artemis looked so appealing with her subtle, twilight beauty. It made Hadrian want to agree, if only to coax a smile from her. Then he recalled some of the insults she‘d hurled at him the day before. He also recalled how his brother had been killed for presuming to make love to her sister.
“Cooperate in what way?” He peered into the blue-violet depths of her eyes, striving to fathom her true motives.
“Is it not obvious? If you take custody of Lee, you will need someone to supervise his upbringing when you return to the Orient. I wish to continue caring for him, but I do not find Bramberley well suited to raising a high-spirited young child. Surely the most reasonable course…”
A clutch of hot coals began to smolder in the pit of Hadrian’s belly. “You mean you would be willing to take my vulgar money to live in high style in your own establishment?”
Her eyes flashed with outrage, but she maintained her facade of courtesy. “That accusation is most unworthy of you, sir. However great your fortune, you could not possibly provide me with accommodations to equal Bramberley. But a grand house is not necessarily the best place to bring up a child. I had something more modest in mind.”
She had a valid point, much as it vexed Hadrian to admit. Anyone else he hired to care for his nephew might be tempted to enrich themselves at the child’s expense. Artemis Dearing’s wealth set her above mercenary considerations. Was it possible his suspicions about her were unfounded?
“I beg your pardon, ma’am. I cannot help but wonder why you would be willing to do this for me. Especially considering your attitude toward my brother. Yesterday you said I was the last person in the world to whom you would give your nephew. What has changed your mind?”
Hadrian Northmore was a dangerous man. Artemis had sensed it from the moment she’d first glimpsed him on the heath near Bramberley. Now, as she scrambled to contrive an excuse he might believe, she was more certain than ever.
Though it sickened her to contemplate taking his money to care for her nephew, she reminded herself it was for Lee’s sake. If his uncle agreed to her proposal, they would never have to be parted and Lee could have all the advantages she would never be able to provide for him otherwise. Surely his mother would have approved, even if it cost Artemis her pride?
“What changed my mind? Why, you did, sir, by explaining your plans just now, so that I could see your gaining Lee did not have to mean I must lose him. Also, much as it pains me to admit, my sister did care for your brother. I do not believe she would want me to keep their son from you.”
“If I agreed to this arrangement, would you permit the lad to bear my family name?” The severe set of Mr. Northmore’s wide mouth warned Artemis this mattered a great deal to him.
Her tongue burned with the urge to refuse his presumptuous demand. Who were the Northmores, after all? Nothing but mushrooms—so called because they sprang up fast out of the dung. Her family had been in the first rank of British society for centuries. The third Marquis of Bramber had borne the canopy over King Charles I at his coronation. His grandson, Viscount Singlecross, had helped put down Monmouth’s Rebellion. Lady Lettice Dearing had been a lady-in-waiting to Queen Anne.
Nothing but the thought of Lee’s stout little arms around her neck and the sweet gurgle of his laughter could have compelled Artemis to reply, “If you insist.”
“I do.” Mr. Northmore’s harsh tone made those two words sound like a threat.
Artemis refused to be intimidated. “Though I do not understand why it matters.”
His powerful hands tightened around the arms of his chair. “It matters because my nephew is the last of our line. I am determined to rescue my family from the brink of extinction and raise it to a place of prominence, from which it will never be threatened in future.”
That proved precisely what she had suspected—the man was nothing but a power-hungry social climber. Artemis strove to keep her lip from curling.
“Prosperity is no guarantee of survival, sir. Many a noble house has died out for lack of heirs.” The Dearings might soon be among them, thanks to this man’s brother.
“They haven’t enough good red blood.” Hadrian Northmore did not bother to hide his contempt. “Whatever our other faults, my family does not shrink from breeding.”
The man had already made her blush once, when he’d kissed her hand in the manner of a true gentleman. Now he did it again with a most ungentlemanly remark. Artemis had good reason to know the Northmores did not shrink from breeding—even outside the bounds of matrimony.
“Are we agreed, then?” Artemis hurried on. “You will provide for all Lee’s material needs, while I attend to his upbringing?”
“Not so fast, if you please.” Hadrian Northmore leaned back in his chair, resting his strong, jutting chin against his raised fist. “I foresee some difficulties with this proposed arrangement of yours.”
“Such as…?”
His narrowed eyes ranged over her in a way that made Artemis squirm. “An unwed lady living on her own—wouldn’t be proper, would it? The lad already has one strike against him, being born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
“I always conduct myself with the utmost propriety, sir. I resent your suggestion that I would ever do otherwise, particularly with an impressionable young child in my care.”
If it were possible for her to stray from the path of strict decorum, a man like Hadrian Northmore might tempt her. That unwelcome thought shook Artemis to the solitary, sensible core of her being.
“I am not saying you would do anything improper.” His tone implied that he did not think her capable of it. “I am only saying it might appear so. Appearances matter to the kind of people I want the boy associating with once he’s older.”
It galled Artemis to admit the truth of that. Members of the ton could get away with the most despicable wrongdoing, provided they were discreet. Yet a perfectly harmless incident could bring down the full weight of society’s censure, simply because it had the appearance of impropriety. If anyone had seen her out on the heath yesterday in Hadrian Northmore’s arms, it could have ruined her reputation. If he were a gentleman, honor would have dictated he make her an offer of marriage.
That improbable notion sent her pulse into a skittish dance, which Artemis struggled to ignore. “I am certain I could find a respectable chaperon, if you felt it was necessary. Have you any other objections?”
Mr. Northmore nodded. “Such a handsome lady is bound to at
tract suitors, especially if she is in control of her young ward’s fortune. Where would it leave the lad and me if you decided to marry? I will not have some man I’ve never met in a position of influence over my nephew.”
Did he expect her to be flattered that he’d called her handsome? Hard as Artemis tried to dismiss the compliment, she could not. He’d tossed it off in such a blunt, careless way, as he might have declared the sky was blue or the grass green. For the third time in less than an hour, Artemis felt the blood rise in her cheeks.
“I am nine-and-twenty years old,” she replied, as much to remind herself as to inform him. “I have long been on the shelf. Even if some other gentleman were shortsighted enough to fancy me handsome, marriage holds no attraction for me. My nephew…our nephew is the only gentleman with whom I wish to share a home. Unless…”
The maddest idea possessed her, born of desperation in the face of Hadrian Northmore’s frustrating resistance. “Unless you were prepared to marry me…entirely as a matter of convenience, of course.”
For once the man looked lost for words. Artemis congratulated herself on that small victory. She hoped the threat of having to wed her would make the alternative, of merely employing her, more attractive.
Before he could recover his voice, she rattled on with counterfeit eagerness, “Such an arrangement would answer all your objections, would it not? I would be a perfectly respectable married woman with a husband working abroad. No one would raise an eyebrow over my living arrangements. And you would not have to worry that I might marry anyone else in your absence. Since neither of us is inclined to wed in future, it would create no encumbrance.”
As she spoke, Mr. Northmore’s dazed stare tensed into a scowl of profound concentration. Or perhaps it betrayed his deep aversion to the idea of marrying her.
Given their vast differences and mutual bitterness, that was quite natural and all to the good, Artemis told herself, disregarding a foolish pang of humiliation. She did not want to marry him either, not even as a pure formality. The greater his distaste, the more anxious he would be to accept a less drastic alternative.
Hadrian Northmore sprang from his seat and began to pace in front of the hearth, one hand tucked behind his back while he rubbed his chin with the other.
“You know, that may not be as daft a scheme as it sounded at first.” His words stumbled out in a disjointed mutter, as if he were trying to persuade himself.
Good heavens! He wasn’t actually considering it, was he? For the first time in her life she’d acted on an impulse and look where it had landed her.
“You are too polite, sir.” Artemis endeavored to undo the damage. “It is a ridiculous idea. I see that now. Let us think no more of it, I beg you.”
He seemed too lost in his own thoughts to heed her. “I could adopt the lad as my heir. If we married, you and he would both bear the Northmore name. By the time he is old enough for school, the scandal of his birth may be forgotten and people might assume he is our son.”
“Perhaps so, but—”
“Say no more, Lady Artemis. You have persuaded me.” Hadrian Northmore strode toward her. Seizing her by the arms, he raised her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather. “For the sake of our nephew, you must marry me!”
Chapter Four
If anyone had predicted he’d ever consider marriage again, let alone to the daughter of a marquis, Hadrian would have laughed in his face. Yet, here he was, not simply considering marriage to Lady Artemis, but quite determined to go ahead with it. His hands clamped around her slender arms as he awaited her answer.
“You and I marry?” Her eyes darted anxiously. “Surely you cannot mean that. We only met yesterday and we did not get on well.”
Her reluctance only strengthened his resolve. “We have our differences, I’ll admit. But we have one vital interest in common—the welfare of our nephew. Besides, it is not as if we will have to share a home for the rest of our lives. After a mere eight months, we will have no need for any contact beyond an annual exchange of letters.”
Before she could reply, the footman called out from his place by the door, “Begging your pardon, my lady. Do you need any help?”
With a guilty start, Hadrian realized how it must look to the servant—him looming over Lady Artemis, holding her so close. He might appear to be threatening her, or perhaps taking liberties. Both notions unsettled him in different ways.
Abruptly he released the lady and stepped back.
“Thank you, Roger.” Her answer sounded calmer than she appeared at close range. “I am in no danger from Mr. Northmore. If I require your assistance, I will not hesitate to call.”
Lowering her voice, she directed her next words at Hadrian. “Would it not be easier to provide me with a house and money for Lee’s expenses?”
Her reluctance reassured Hadrian. If she’d been eager to accept, it would have put him on his guard. “Think of the gossip and the harm to your reputation if anyone discovered you were living at my expense out of wedlock. I do not wish to bring more scandal upon your noble family. So it must be marriage or we will have a fight on our hands. Which do you choose?”
Expectant silence stretched tighter and tighter as he waited for Lady Artemis to make her decision. Hadrian felt a strange rush of danger and exhilaration, as if he were teetering on the brink of a high cliff above treacherous blue-violet waters. Though the lady’s delicate features remained impassive, Hadrian fancied he could hear the low hum of her thoughts as they raced through her mind.
Then her chin tilted a trifle higher and she announced, “I suppose I must choose marriage.”
“Excellent!” Only two days ago he had glimpsed his family and all his plans laid waste. Now they seemed to rise from the ashes.
The force of that dizzying turnabout pushed him toward Lady Artemis, his lips seeking hers as if to claim the spoils of victory.
The fine contours of her features, her flawless alabaster skin and her cool, detached manner all gave the impression she was not a real woman at all, but a classical statue that had somehow gained the power of movement and speech. It surprised Hadrian to find her lips so soft and warm beneath his. The unexpected pleasure tempted him to press it further. Then he remembered to whom those sweet lips belonged.
Before Lady Artemis could sputter with indignation, or slap his face, he drew back, speaking as if nothing had passed between them. “Now that you have consented, shall we set the date?”
“Soon.” Lady Artemis sounded dazed by his sudden kiss. “As soon as you can procure a special license.”
Her insistence on haste seemed odd, given her prior reluctance. Perhaps she wanted the wedding over with quickly, before she could change her mind.
Hadrian did not want to risk that happening. “Soon it shall be. I will go up to London at once to make the necessary arrangements.”
“Lee and I will await your return.” Lady Artemis made a formal little bow. “Send a carriage to Bramberley to collect us for the wedding.”
As she swept from the room with majestic grace, Hadrian’s mouth fell open just enough for the tip of his tongue to emerge and swipe over his lips, as if he expected the elusive flavor of her kiss to linger.
As she finished packing during Lee’s nap, Artemis caught herself gazing into space, lost in the memory of Hadrian Northmore’s swift, bewildering kiss.
For all its abruptness and vigor, it had not been rough or possessive. Indeed, the smooth heat of his lips had been a far more agreeable sensation than she would ever have anticipated. Not that she’d anticipated a kiss from Mr. Northmore in her wildest dreams.
Was this how his brother had ensnared her sister—luring Daphne to defy her family and risk ruin for the sake of a few fleeting moments of pleasure in his arms?
That thought rekindled the outrage that had smoldered in Artemis’s heart for more than a year. How could she have agreed to wed into the family of her brother’s killer? Not only agreed, but proposed the preposterous idea in the first p
lace! No matter how desperate her circumstances, no matter how businesslike an arrangement it was meant to be, such a union could not be right.
Tiptoeing into the nursery, she gazed down at her nephew, asleep in his cot. A sweet, brooding ache swelled in her bosom.
“I would do anything for you,” she whispered. “But this feels like such a betrayal of your mama and uncle.”
She could still picture her brother’s handsome face, contorted with reckless rage, on the day he’d discovered Daphne was with child. “Damned if I will let that ill-bred scoundrel marry into this family!“
It had been the most dreadful row—Leander ranting like a madman, Daphne sobbing violently, Artemis pleading for them both to exercise some restraint. The memory of it still made her bilious. What would her brother say if he knew she would be the means of a Northmore marrying into the Dearing family? Would his ghost rise from St. Botolph’s churchyard to haunt her?
Artemis shook off a passing qualm. What was there to fear from her dead brother when she had two living uncles to face? Sooner or later she would have to inform them of her plans. Though she knew better than to expect a violent quarrel, she would almost have preferred it to Uncle Henry’s cold, severe rebuke or Uncle Edward questioning her family loyalty. All over a course of action to which they had driven her.
A sudden idea tantalized Artemis with its promise. Perhaps there was still a way she could escape the predicament she had talked her way into. Blowing a kiss to the sleeping child, she tiptoed out of the nursery and went in search of her uncles.
She found them in the library, sipping their brandy.
“Uncle Henry, Uncle Edward.” She curtsied. “I have some news.”
“Found a suitable place for the child, have you?” asked Uncle Henry. “He must be gone by the end of next week, remember. I have invited Mrs. Bullworth to Bramberley and mean to propose to her in the Great Hall.”
“Lee will definitely be gone by then.” Artemis squared her shoulders. “As will I. I have accepted an offer of marriage from Mr. Hadrian Northmore. The wedding will take place as soon as he returns from London.”
