by Anne Stuart
He intended to be kind to Francis's wife. He would remove her from his houses, of course, but he would settle a small amount on her, enough to keep her relatively comfortable if her needs were few. And what needs would she have? She'd be in mourning, unable to attend social functions, which made things a great deal simpler. After that time was up he expected her to simply fade away without her husband. They were far too attached to each other—Etienne considered it bad ton to be so besotted, particularly after so many years and six children. No, she would die soon and he wouldn't have to worry about even the tiny stipend.
But none of that would happen, that rosy future would vanish if Adrian lived long enough to reproduce. And Etienne could no longer afford to be patient.
The small village of Huntingdon boasted an indifferent inn, but they were used to the strange comings and goings connected lo Hensley Court, and no one paid any notice to the big Frenchman. They weren't even concerned about traitors. Most of the stupid English expected him to sell them out the first chance he got. They didn't realize that the so-called French government would rather have his head on a pike than theirs.
Fortunately he knew Hensley Court and its grounds very well—he'd been most observant on the
few occasions when he'd been invited to join their silly games. It would be easy enough to slip in unnoticed, once he'd decided how he was going to handle the situation.
In retrospect, he'd clearly been mistaken in thinking things could resolve at their own speed. Instead of getting weaker, Adrian was growing stronger, and there were times when Etienne caught him looking at him with the same cool contempt he saw in Francis's eyes. It infuriated him.
He could blame all this on Miss Charlotte Spenser, a woman who'd never known her place, who had somehow managed to ensnare Adrian when Etienne had done his best to throw women of his own choosing at the man's head. Women who owed him a favor and would do what he told them to.
He took a deep breath. Indeed, it was most aggravating, and it would take days to handle this. He would have to kill them both, of course. Adrian because he stood in the way, Miss Spenser because there was always the remote possibility that she carried an heir.
An heir who would be just as much a bastard as he was. And yet, Etienne had no doubt Francis would contrive to allow his grandchild to inherit the title. His English cousin had had things his way for too long. The loss of a second heir would slow him down where age hadn't managed to.
And how it would gall him to know that Etienne would inherit everything. The pleasure in that was almost better than the inheritance itself. The smug bastard who'd always had everything that should have been Etienne's by right, who'd given back his French title and estates just in time to have them confiscated by the canaille. A man who'd done everything he could to snake sure Etienne was disliked. It would be revenge most sweet.
There were times when he wondered how he had come to this. He'd been a healer—Francis had paid for his medical training and bought him a surgery in Paris, a poor compensation for the title he'd stolen. But still, he'd spent decades helping people. Perhaps it would be tallied into the final reckoning, perhaps not. He wasn't sure he believed in anything after this life.
"I think she's pregnant," Lina said in a disconsolate voice. "And you know what a disaster that is."
"No," said Monty, "I don't. Babies are lovely, new life is divine. If you're worried about what society will think then that's a new experience for you. To hell with society."
"You're right, of course," Lina said, managing a smile. "I tell you what, why don't we move in here with you? Charlotte can have her baby, and we'll make our own odd little family."
"I get to be the mother" Monty said with a faint grin. "I'm not cut out to be a paterfamilias."
"Of course you are. You're very grand and controlling, like all good patriarchs are. You have to get better, though. No lolling about in bed like this. If we're going to have a baby we'll be very busy."
"I'll do my best. Of course, we haven't taken Rohan into account.”
"How did you know it was Rohan?" she asked. "You've been in bed for the last three weeks."
He looked affronted. "Do you think my servants don't report everything to me?"
"Everything?" she said.
"Everything. I do think Rohan might have other plans for Charlotte, my pet. But that doesn't mean I don't want you to move in here. You'll make a perfect mistress of Hensley Court. I've long imagined you here.”
"Bless you, sweetness. I'll marry you. I think we should do very well together. Sexual congress is really a great deal less important than people say."
"Sexual congress is really a great deal more important, my pet. You just haven't had anyone do you right."
"Fat lot you know," she said.
"I do. I know very well how men make love, and I can tell you don't So no, my sweet, I won't marry you. I don't think there'd be time even if I wanted to."
"There'll be all the time in the world," Lina said.
leaving the chair and climbing up onto the bed. curling up next to him.
"If you say so." His voice was faint. "But if, by any strange occurrence, I don't, I'll be very happy to think of you here. I think you should have many, many children."
She was already feeling close to tears, and at this they threatened to spill over. "I can't have children, Monty."
"I think the right man will give you many children.”
"Then I'll need to find the right man," she said with a watery chuckle. "I'll take care of it-She look his frail hand, and they lay there in companionable silence. "Do you think Rohan and Charlotte could possibly be happy? He's a rake and a libertine."
"His father managed to reform with the love of a good woman. Adrian's the man his father is, despite his current shortcomings. I expect he and Charlotte will end up disgustingly happy, doting on each other into old age." He shook his head. "There's nothing worse than a reformed rake. Just look at Simon. He'll probably end up the same. It quite breaks my heart," he said cheerfully.
Lina laughed. "I promise I'll be wicked till the end of my days, Monty."
He lifted her hand to his and kissed it lightly. "We shall see, my precious."
Charlotte rolled over, stretching. Sunlight was coming in through the shuttered windows of the old nursery, and dust motes danced in the air. Adrian lay beside her, sound asleep, naked and beautiful, and she lay back, cradling her head in her arms, and watched him, her eyes sliding over all the mysterious parts of his body that were so different from hers. She felt wonderful, full of life and energy, as if she could dance and fly and sing.
"'Go back to sleep," he muttered, not bothering to open his eyes.
"I can't. I'm too happy."
At that he did open one eye to survey her. "Delighted I could help... If you let me sleep I can do it again and you'll be even happier"
"I can't..." His arm shot out and caught her around the waist, pulling her back against his body. He was cool, lovely, all that flesh against hers, and she could feel his penis begin to stir at her backside, and instinctively her nipples hardened.
He felt them against his arm, having positioned himself deliberately. "Then again, now's as good a time as any," he said in her ear.
She pulled away, and he let her go, reluctantly. She sat up on the bed, looking down at him for a long moment. “Lina’s going to raise a fuss.”
"Then we avoid Lina. She doesn't need to know until it's too late."
"Too late for what?" she asked, confused.
"We'll get married, of course. It's not the best possible solution—I certainly had no intention of marrying anyone, but there doesn't seem to be any help for it. I don't seem to be able to get you out of my system. It requires long familiarity for that to happen—I was enchanted with my favorite mistress for more than two years before I finally tired of her. I fully expect it to take that long with you."
She stared at him, her face expressionless. "And what happens then? If we're married you can't pension m
e off with a diamond brooch."
He laughed. "It costs a lot more than a diamond brooch to dispense with those kinds of entanglements, my sweet Charlotte. No, we should do fairly well together once society recovers from the shock. Even when desire fades and we move on to other partners I imagine we'll still be friends."
Her skin was like ice. "I would get to move on to other partners as well...?"
"Of course. Would you think I would be so unfair?" He frowned. "Though I must admit that right now the idea makes me furious. But I'll change my mind, of course. I always do."
"You always do," she echoed.
"In fact, that's why it took me so long to get here. I was able to obtain a special license from my godfather, who happens to be the bishop of London. I imagine we could prevail upon Pagett to marry
"I don't think so," she said in her sweetest, softest voice.
He raised an eyebrow. "You don't him to marry us?”
"No, my lord. I don't wish to marry you"
His expression was almost comical. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you do."
"No," she said calmly. "I do not. You're a cold-hearted, arrogant son of a bitch, and I deserve better."
He just looked at her in astonishment, as if she'd suddenly grown a second head. "I beg your pardon?”
She rose, ignoring her own nudity, and grabbed the Holland cover off the adjoining bed, wrapping it around her with great dignity. "I'm smart, I'm talented, I'm essentially kindhearted and I'm not a complete antidote. I shouldn't have to settle for the kind of cold-blooded union you're suggesting. It's so kind of you to condescend to offer for me, but you can take your proposal, if that's what it was, and stuff it up your bum. I'm worth more, I deserve better, and I'm not settling for someone like you.”
She started toward the door, the heavy linen trailing behind her, and he was up off the bed, at the door before she made it there. He looked confused, furious, bewildered.
"You're not making sense, Charlotte," he said patiently. "The sex between us isn't like ordinary people's. You won't find this with someone else-it's special. I'm offering you the chance to be a viscountess, to have your own establishment, perhaps even children..."
"You're willing to make a great sacrifice on your part in order to scratch a curious itch. Find someone else." She put her hands on his bare chest, resisting the urge to stroke him, and shoved him away.
By now he was angry, affronted, and he fell back. "To hell with you then—do you know how many women would give everything to be in your place?"
"Go find one of them and shag yourself silly. You can't have me." And she yanked open the door and strode out into the hallway, feeling majestic, righteous and furious.
It was probably just as well that she got lost. Her defiant mood could only last so long. By the time she'd taken her third wrong turn, her lower lip was trembling, and when she came to the end of a hallway with no staircase in sight, she simply sank onto the worn carpet, the cover draped around her, and began to cry silently.
The linen was useless for blotting her tears. She lay there in a miserable welter of sorrow, sobbing quietly into her arms, when Lina found her.
She put her arms around her, murmuring soft, comforting things, helping her to her feet, repositioning (he cover around her naked body. "Where are your clothes, dearest?"
"I...in...the...nursery," she said between hiccups. "Don't go there. He's in a rage."
"'He doesn't know the meaning of the word rage" Lina said darkly. "Did he hurt you?"
Charlotte shook her head. "No."
Lina knew the halls as well as Adrian had. Within minutes she'd brought Charlotte back to her rooms, Meggie bustling around her, making clucking noises as she helped her bathe. "He certainly marked you, that one," she said. "I hope you did the same to him."
Charlotte closed her eyes, refusing to think about it. Refusing to think about the bite mark on his shoulder, the scratches on his back.
“Don't worry, sweeting," Lina said. "He'll marry you, make no doubt about that. If he thinks he can get away with this without offering for you..."
"He did offer for me. I told him no."
Lina's astonishment mirrored Adrian's, and Charlotte's ire began to rise again. "Why does everyone assume I should be grateful for the tidbits of attention he's tossing me?" she demanded. "I don't want a cold-b1ooded marriage of short-term lust and long term politeness.”
“It doesn't have to be that way," Lina protested.
"Yes, it does. That's what he's offering me. He was quite astounded that I would refuse such a magnanimous offer. He probably thought I would be struck dumb with gratitude. Well, I'm not grateful. I'd rather spend my life a fallen woman. I'd rather marry a ragpicker and live in the stews of London than marry that...that arrogant pig bladder."
Lina was sitting on the bed beside her, a troubled expression on her face. "Charlotte, you have to marry him. I think you might be increasing."
Charlotte looked at her blankly, the words making no sense. And then the meaning was clear. "No," she said flatly. She thought about it a moment. "Absolutely no." The strange sense of lassitude and energy, the feeling of fullness and growth. "I can't be."
"Meggie says you haven't had your monthly courses. Just a few drops of blood, and that's often a sign of pregnancy. You've been tired all the time, sick in the morning, the smell of bacon makes you ill when you used to eat it by the pound. We won't know for sure, but you have all the signs. You have to marry him"
"No," she said stubbornly. "That just makes me even more convinced. I'm not going to bring a child into the world and give him a...a...jackass like Adrian for a father."
"You want to bring a bastard into the world?" "We can raise her together. That is, unless you're sending me away for gross immorality."
Lina's laugh sounded suspiciously close to tears. "No, darling, I'm not. And if you don't want Adrian then you don't have to have him. We'll figure something out. Go away to the continent, or out to the country during your confinement. No one need ever know.”
"I'm not giving the child up," she said.
"We'll tell everyone the baby was an orphan we've taken into our home. Don't worry, darling, it will be—"
Her bedroom door slammed open, and Adrian was standing there, fully dressed, vibrating in rage. "You didn't think it worthwhile informing me that you're pregnant?" he roared.
Charlotte stiffened, her own "Where did you get that idea?"
"From Monty. He wants to know you won’t marry me as well.”
“Because I don’t love you.”
It was the wrong thing to say, but she was goaded. He looked at her in complete astonishment, and then laughed. "Why in the world would you think love has anything to do with what's between us? It's healthy lust that we ought to enjoy as long as it lasts, and then—"
"That's enough," Lina broke in hastily. "I believe you've put your foot in your mouth enough for one day. Why don't you go back down and chew on it for a while. Charlotte needs her rest If she is increasing, and we're not even sure of that, then we need to take extra-special care of her."
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "You told me you've been entertaining gentlemen nonstop since you arrived back in London. What makes you think the child is mine?”
Meggie had just set the tea tray down in her lap, and Charlotte didn't hesitate. She picked up the pot and flung it at him, scalding tea spewing out over the bedroom.
It hit him on the unmarked side of his face, slamming against his cheekbone and breaking. The tea drenched him, but he didn't flinch, even as blood began to trickle down his cheek from the spot where a shard of china had sliced through the skin.
"Be damned to you then," he said, and slammed the door as he went.
For some reason Lina had a half smile on her face, one she quickly wiped away when Charlotte glared at her. "Let me get this straight, dearest. You won't marry him because he doesn't love you, is that it?"
"You heard him. Love has nothing to do with what's between us," she said a
ngrily.
"But we know differently, don't we? You're in love with him. I'm not sure why, but I accept your choice.”
"It's not my choice. He doesn't want me for the right reasons, and I won't take him for the wrong ones." She could feel the tears welling up again, and she dashed them away. “And why am I crying all the time? I never used to be so pathetic."
"Another sign of pregnancy, Miss Charlotte," Meggie said in her practical voice. "Anytime me mum got knocked up she'd start bawling all over the place. I used to think it was just because she didn't want another bastard clinging to her, but she told me no, it came with the baby. You're pregnant."
Enough was enough. Charlotte stopped fighting it. She burst into tears, flinging herself face down on the bed. And it wasn't until later that she realized that Lina had quietly slipped out.
Adrian made it as far as the stables. He spun on his heel and turned back. He was making a habit of this, he thought wryly. She really did have the ability to make him insane.
He was damned if a child of his was going to be born a bastard. She didn't like it-she could damn well make the best of it. The best of a title, a fortune, belter sex than she'd ever find in her life. There were worse fates for an overtall spinster with red hair and freckles. He didn't care what she wanted or didn't want.
Except that he loved her rich, coppery hair. He loved her creamy skin and the flecks of gold that danced across it in the most deliciously unexpected places. He hadn't gotten around to discovering all those places, and he was never a man to leave a job only partly done.
And what if she wasn't pregnant? He thought, strolling back into the house as if his very future weren't at stake. Then he'd do his best to ensure she soon would be. He wanted her to be pregnant, he realized with a sense of shock. Wanted her to be carrying his baby. The thought of her, round and waddling, heavy with child, filled him with an odd sense of what might almost be called delight. Not that he would go that far. But his father would probably appreciate an heir if she had a boy, and his mother worried about him incessantly. If he were married she might calm down a little.
