Samantha Holt - Sinful Temptations (Cynfell Brothers Book 6)

by Unknown

  “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 him 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 lovemaking 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 arr
ived 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 change 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.

  Hands to the sandstone, Anna moved around and peered at the lady’s tennis partner. Her mouth ran dry. Her heart near leaped from her chest.

  A young boy. The right age. Dark hair like hers. He grinned and served the ball back with a healthy swing.

  Frozen, she observed them playing for several moments. It was him. There was no doubting it. Instinctively, she just knew it.

  Her son played well for a young lad and his laugh rang in her ears. She closed her eyes briefly to savour the sound.

  Another woman’s voice called across the grass. Anna’s legs refused to work when this next lady, dressed in much finer clothes than her son’s tennis companion, strolled across the lawn. The boy barrelled across the grass when he spotted her and flung himself into her arms.

  “Mother!” the boy exclaimed

  The knot in Anna’s throat tightened. This was Lady Everett. His mother. Her son’s mother.

  Indecision burned through her mind. If she stepped out, made some claim to being his mother, what would happen? She’d likely be carted away and would scare the boy. If she did not say something, would it hurt her forever?

  She looked at the boy, watched his face when he pulled back from Lady Everett and picked up the tennis racket to show her his skills. He was healthy, happy, and clearly loved. Did she need anything more? Was she really considering wrenching him from this life? She knew she had no legal recourse anyway and even if her power brought him back, what good would that do him?

  Tears blurred her vision. She sniffed and forced herself back from the scene. A male voice rang out—one of the gardeners, she suspected—demanding to know what she was doing.

  She swiftly moved around the building to the gates. The gardener followed but perhaps had surmised she was of no danger to them as he made no attempt to stop her from leaving. She pushed through the gates and listened hard for the laughter of her son.

  He was happy, she told herself again, drawing out a handkerchief to dab her eyes. With one last glance at the home, she strode down the street and forced her stiff legs to keep going until she found a hack. Once in the safe confines of the vehicle, she blew her nose and took in a long breath of the slightly musty air. She could barely recall covering the distance between the house and the carriage now but her hands were shaking less. She curled them together and willed herself to remain calm.

  “The right decision,” she murmured to herself.

  She knew everything she needed to know. Her son had not suffered for her and her family’s mistakes. He would grow up privileged and free from the taint of her scandal. And happy. What more could she ask?

  The carriage came to a halt, and Anna hardly waited for it to stop rocking before disembarking. She paid the driver and rapped on the door of Harris’ townhouse. She tapped her feet impatiently. Though she hardly knew how to explain what she’d done, she knew what she needed.

  Harris.

  His butler answered and immediately beckoned her in upon recognising her. No judgement sat in his expression. Perhaps he was used to bleary-eyed women on his master’s doorstep.

  “He is in the study, Miss Anna.”

  “Thank you,” she managed to squeak out.

  She took the next set of steps up and paused outside of the door to try to compose herself. The door swung open before she could knock and she was confronted by him. His handsomeness took her breath away. Or what little of it she had left.

  “I heard a—Anna?”

  Before he could say anything more, she flung herself against him. The tears that had burned agonisingly in her chest fell. She buried her face against his chest, and he pulled her into his embrace.

  “There, there,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you.”

  The words were more reassuring than they should have been. For how long would he have her?

  “I found him.”

  She remained pressed against him until the tears stopped. She drew in a breath and peered up at Harris. He waited, ever patient.

  “He is happy and loved.”

  “That is good news. What shall you do now?”

  “Return home, I suppose. There is no reason for me to stay.”

  And yet, she could not help but silently beg him to give her a reason.

  He stroked her hair and eased her away from his chest to swipe away the dampness under her eyes. “You know, I’ve been meaning to take a break from London...”

  A grin forced itself across her face in spite of her wretched state. “Have you indeed?”

  “Know of anywhere a gentlemen of relatively good character might stay?”

  Her grin expanded. She might not know what the future held for them, but things were not over yet. “I may know just the place...”

  Chapter Eleven

  Anna tried to focus on the performance of La Sonnambula, really she did, but she felt as the poor heroine as she sleepwalked across a dangerous bridge, she could not help feel equally distracted. Her companion had an uncanny knack of distracting her, even when he did not try. Not to say that Harris did not occasionally.

  Throughout the evening at the theatre, his hand had slipped surreptitiously across to touch her arm or the back of her hand. He’d leaned in to say things and his breath whispered across her ski
n. The scent of him wrapped about her, enticing her. Not that she needed enticing.

  Stealing a glance Harris’ way, she caught his eye. A glint lingered in it. That glint promised things. Pleasure. Endless pleasure. And comfort too. Somehow, he had become a friend as well as a lover. While they might have spent much of their time in bed together, Anna also found they spent at least half of that time conversing, lying in each other’s arms, wrapped in the bubble of bliss and talking about their respective lives.

  And with their conversations, came a greater respect for the man. To be sure, he was still a scoundrel of sorts. But a good one. He cared for his family and his nieces and nephews a great deal. He tried to be a support to Ash, who suffered the affliction of severe headaches it seemed, and he was an enthusiastic rider.

  Anna could not help recall the frustration he had revealed to her at not being able to ride at present. A smile worked its way across her lips while she forced her gaze onto the actors. That he had confided such a thing in her was great indeed for a man like Harris, that much she knew. None of these men liked admitting to their weaknesses.

  Unfortunately, she had to leave tomorrow. She’d already been in London too long. He’d insisted on one last hurrah, and she’d agreed, even allowing him to persuade her to go out in public with him. Not that she was ashamed of him, of course not, but it was a bold step for her. Somehow, closing that old wound of not knowing of her son’s fate had made it easier. Having Harris at her side did that too.

  He leaned over. “Are you so very bored?”

  “Not at all,” she protested in a whisper.

  “Then stop looking at me and keep your attention on the play.”

  “How arrogant you are, what makes you think I am looking at you?”

  “I’m always aware when a beautiful woman is looking at me.”

  She wondered if he was also aware of the looks they were receiving. Although used to such looks, she was not used to having a man next to her when those icy stares were bestowed her way.

  Did they bother him? It would be common knowledge that they were lovers now. One benefit of being a fallen woman, she supposed. No one much cared if she took a lover—it was expected for her to behave sordidly after all. At least that meant they could be as public as they liked with their companionship.