by Brenda Hiatt
Though the Duke was not in evidence, Xena suddenly quickened her pace to approach a pair of figures near the bank of the Serpentine—a woman dressed as a nanny and a small boy. As Harry watched, Xena stooped to embrace the child, then stood to engage in what appeared to be earnest conversation with the nanny.
“What the deuce?” Harry muttered to himself. Using the widely-spaced trees for cover as much as possible, he moved closer and closer to the unlikely trio.
Finally he was near enough to see them all clearly—near enough, in fact, that if Xena turned she would certainly spot him, though he was too curious to worry overmuch about that. The brown-skinned nanny he now recognized as the Indian woman who’d acted as her abigail on the Peninsula. Why, though, should Xena feel a need to meet with her secretly? And the boy…
Harry’s gaze sharpened as he realized there was something disturbingly familiar about his reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes, though he was almost certain he’d never seen the lad before. He appeared to be about six or seven years old. And the way he clung to Xena suggested…
The shock of realization must have forced some sort of sound from Harry’s throat, for Xena and her two companions turned as one to look his way.
“Harry?” Xena’s hand went to her throat and she glanced wildly down at the boy by her side, then back at Harry, eyes wide, stricken—the same expression, in fact, that she’d worn that fateful evening when he’d accused her of having a lover and he’d gone out and got himself shot. “How—? You said—”
“That I was meeting Jack.” Still dazed by his discovery, he spoke slowly, disbelievingly. “I…had an idea you meant to meet with someone and wanted to find out who. I thought—”
“I know what you thought,” she interrupted him with another quick glance at the lad. “You were mistaken. Obviously.”
“Obviously.” Was this little boy with eyes and hair so like his own truly his son? He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask such a question directly. “I remember your old abigail, but perhaps you would introduce me to your other companion?” His voice sounded stilted, formal, to his own ears.
When Xena hesitated, the lad at her side took the initiative. “I’m Theodore Maxwell, sir. Are you a friend of my mother’s?” He sounded surprisingly mature for his age—as well as slightly suspicious.
“I…yes. A friend.” Harry had no idea what else to say—what else he should say.
“Then why is she afraid of you?” the boy demanded, moving to place himself between Harry and the two women. “I won’t let you harm her, or Yamini, either.”
Xena put a hand on young Theodore’s shoulder. “Thank you, Theo, but I am not afraid and he means me no harm.” Her expression was less confident than her words, however. “This is…Mr. Thatcher. We knew each other before you were born. He…” Her voice trailed off as though she could not make herself say the words, either.
It was the nurse, Yamini, who broke the silence this time. “Tell him, mum. Tell them both. You know full well it is time. Past time.” Her voice was firm, not at all like a servant addressing her mistress. Far from reprimanding her, Xena flushed and nodded.
“Yes. It is time. Though I think you’ve already guessed the truth?” Xena said to Harry, an apology in her eyes. She stooped to put both arms around her son. “Theo, dear, when you asked me about your father, I told you he was killed in battle, because that is what I believed to be true. It was only after arriving in London that I learned he…he survived after all.”
“Then—” The boy’s hazel eyes grew round as he stared up at Harry, his small face now alight with disbelieving joy rather than suspicion. “Are you my father? Sir?”
With great effort, Harry managed to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. “So it would seem. I’m happy to finally make your acquaintance…Theo.”
CHAPTER 20
XENA WATCHED Harry greet their son for the first time, anxiety warring with relief. Theo regarded Harry with something like awe, then began peppering him with questions, his eyes—so like Harry’s—fairly glowing with delight. But though Harry smilingly responded to everything Theo said, there was tension in the line of his jaw and in the way he held himself. Was he angry or merely stunned?
If the former, she prayed he would wait until they were alone to vent it. She knew now she’d been wrong to keep Theo’s existence, and Theo himself, from his father. Though fully willing to face the consequences of that error herself, she desperately hoped her son would not be hurt in the process.
“What was it like to be a war hero?” Theo was asking now. “Did the French shoot off your arm when you led your troops into battle?”
“Er…something like that. I’ve been told my efforts contributed to our side winning the battle at Salamanca, at any rate.”
“Wow! And did—”
“Theo,” Xena broke in gently, for Harry was clearly becoming more and more uncomfortable. “That will do for the present. Mr. Thatcher and I need to discuss a few things privately now. No doubt you will have a chance for more questions later.”
Theo’s expression clouded slightly. “Then you are not both coming back with us? Or taking me with you?”
“Not…not just yet.” She shot a pleading glance at Yamini, who gave her a small nod. “But soon.”
“Tomorrow?”
She fought to keep her worry from showing in her face. “Perhaps. I will send word. Now, give me a kiss.”
With an embarrassed glance at Harry, Theo complied, then held out his hand to Harry, who gravely shook it.
“I look forward to becoming better acquainted, Theo.”
A grin broke across Theo’s face. “So do I…Father.”
The look on Harry’s face almost made Xena laugh—but not quite. For she still had a reckoning to face.
Harry was silent as the two of them walked side by side toward the park gates. Xena longed to know what he was thinking but didn’t quite dare to ask. Not until they reached Park Lane did he speak.
“How long did you mean to keep him a secret?” His voice was conversational, even casual.
Xena glanced up at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his face told her no more than his voice. “I, ah, not long. I’ve wanted to tell you for some days now. I very nearly did so last night, but—”
“But I began boasting of my past conquests,” he said with a grimace. “Much as I’d have liked to know the truth at once, I suppose I can’t fault you for trying to shield the boy from a disreputable scoundrel like me.”
“I—” The pain in his eyes made her wish to deny that motive, though it was essentially true. “I simply wished us to become better acquainted before springing a son upon you—or a father upon Theo.”
“Yet you initially meant to leave London without telling me.” It was a statement, not a question.
Reluctantly, she nodded. “Not knowing what sort of man you had become over the past seven years, I…I feared you might try to take him from me—something I could not legally have prevented.”
He looked startled, then thoughtful. “What changed your mind? Surely not Peter’s offer of a place to stay for the winter, as you claimed.”
“It… Lord Peter happened to see Theo when he called upon me to ask that I remain in London. As you may have noticed, there is rather a strong resemblance and he guessed at once that he was your son.”
Now Harry did look angry. “Do you mean to say Peter knows? Has known since the day after we met, yet never said a word to me?”
“That…was the bargain I struck with him,” Xena confessed. “I agreed to, er, give our marriage a chance by living in the same house with you until the first of the year in return for his promise—”
“To keep my son a secret from me?”
Miserably, she nodded. “I realize now I was wrong. That you would never confiscate Theo out of spite, or some misguided belief that as a man you would know better than I what’s best for him.”
“And Peter had to know that even better. He knew I’d never attempt
to take the boy from you, even if you didn’t.”
“Lord Peter did make it perfectly clear he disapproved of my keeping Theo a secret from you,” Xena’s sense of justice forced her to admit.
“Yet he agreed to help you do so.” Harry continued to glower.
Afraid she might be the cause of a rift between the two friends, Xena hastened to explain further. “He only did so because I would have left for Yorkshire at once, without ever seeing you again, had he refused. You mustn’t blame him. I was…rather stubborn, I fear.”
“I have no difficulty whatsoever believing that. And now I know the truth…even if I can’t quite believe it.” Harry’s expression softened to one of wonderment. “A son.”
As they continued on to the house in silence, Xena began to breathe more easily. Was it possible the worst was already over? It was too soon to know, but she prayed it might be so.
* * *
Harry was still wrestling with the enormity of discovering he was a father when they reached the house on Grosvenor Street. That, and trying to fit everything Xena had said and done this past week into this new, life-changing reality.
By unspoken agreement, once they’d handed off their outer things, they retreated upstairs to the library. The moment they were shut inside, he turned urgently to Xena to ask the question uppermost in his mind.
“Now your carefully guarded secret is out, do you regret your bargain with Peter?”
The worry faded from her eyes, a slight smile softening her mouth. “No. How can I? Theo has a father now. And you and I have, well… Perhaps Lord Peter understood us both better than we did.”
“Which will make him even more insufferable than usual for a while. Being right—as he is far too often—generally does.” He’d already seen some evidence of that last night, in fact. “I assume it was Theo you were visiting in Rundel Street and not some lover?” She nodded. “Yet you led me to believe otherwise. Why?”
Her chin snapped up indignantly. “Why? Why did you have me followed, when I’d given you no cause to suspect me of any impropriety?”
“Not directly, perhaps, but it was obvious from the first that you were hiding something. An affair seemed the most obvious answer. Especially given the way you and Wellington… Where did you get the money for all those dresses, if not from him?”
“As it happens, he did provide most of it, though I was unaware of the source until after I’d spent it. An anonymous, wealthy buyer offered to purchase my father’s entire Grecian collection. Not until Lady Ellerby’s ball did I discover that buyer was the Duke.”
“And how did you discover that?”
“He told me himself.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Ah. And what did he demand in return?”
Xena primmed her lips. “He did not demand anything, though he did…hint. However, I let him know in no uncertain terms that I was not interested, even when he attempted to convince me you would not mind.”
Recalling Ferny’s drunken congratulations that evening, he supposed some husbands were indeed willing to look the other way while the Duke dallied with their wives, hoping to elevate their own status thereby. Given Harry’s past, Wellington likely assumed he would be the same.
“He was wrong.”
“Yes, I rather suspected that when you attempted to burgle his house.” Her lips quirked up and Harry felt suddenly obliged to kiss them. Thoroughly.
Xena returned his kiss enthusiastically but when he pulled her body against his, she tipped her head back to look up at him. “I’m surprised you did not guess yesterday that I was not in the habit of taking lovers given my lack of…proficiency.”
“I found nothing lacking, believe me.” His gaze roved over her lovely, upturned face. So beautiful. So difficult to believe she was truly his and no other’s. “However, if you wish to expand your, ah, repertoire in the bedroom, I am more than happy to be of assistance.”
“You know how I enjoy learning new things.” She grinned up at him, suddenly impish. “Though I could wish you’d led a less profligate existence in recent years, we may as well put your extensive experience to good use.”
“Ever my practical Xena. Shall we retire to a more appropriate classroom for your next lesson?”
Still smiling, she nodded. “Yes, please.”
Hand in hand, they again ascended to Harry’s bedchamber. Yesterday, his need for her had been so great that he’d barely remembered to satisfy her before taking his own pleasure. Today he intended a more leisurely session that they might both enjoy every moment properly.
Accordingly, once they were safely in his room, he pulled her to him for another kiss, caressing her back, her shoulders, the nape of her neck. When she began urgently fumbling with his cravat, he put his hand over hers.
“One step at a time,” he murmured against her lips. “Trust me.”
Slowly, he undid the cravat himself, then unbuttoned only her top two buttons before again kissing her deeply. Though she was soon quivering with eagerness, he continued to take his time, alternating kisses and caresses, first through the cambric of her dress, then through her chemise, once she was free of the gown. Along the way, he allowed her to unbutton his coat and remove it. Then, still clad in shirt and breeches, he bade her sit on the bed.
“Why?” she asked breathlessly, leaning in for another kiss as she reached for the buttons of his breeches.
“Trust me,” he repeated with a wink.
She sat and he knelt before her to unlace and remove one sturdy little boot, then the other, after which he one-handedly rolled down her stockings with sensuous slowness. As he bared her feet, he caressed each one, reveling in their dainty femininity. Finally, gliding his hand up her left leg from ankle to knee to thigh, he rose to his feet.
Xena regarded him with half-lidded eyes, her lips slightly parted with pleasure. When she fumbled again with the fastening of his breeches, he did not stop her but lifted the hem of her chemise further until it was up to her waist. The moment she’d freed him from his confining nether garments, she tugged him down onto the bed beside her.
“Now?” she whispered as he kicked his feet free of shoes and breeches.
“Soon.” Again he covered her mouth with his own, now sliding his hand over her hip to her waist, then up to her breast, which he took the time to massage thoroughly.
Nearly panting with need now, Xena yanked her chemise the rest of the way off, over her head, then reached down to grasp his straining arousal, tugging him gently closer. Her touch nearly sent him over the edge but Harry sternly held himself back, determined to show her a little something new first. He lay back on the bed, pulling her down atop him. “Now you’re the one in control.”
Her eyes widened slightly, then she smiled. “Mm. Surely what every woman wants to hear?” Shifting until she straddled him, she pressed her mound against his shaft as she ran both hands over his chest. Then, frowning, she tugged at his shirt, trying to pull it off over his head.
Harry took one of her hands. “That’s not necessary, is it?”
Yesterday they’d been in such a frenzy of passion he’d removed his shirt without thinking, something he’d never done for any other woman since losing his arm—not that any had ever insisted. Xena, however, had a most stubborn gleam in her eye.
“Did you not just say I am the one in control here? I shall decide what is necessary.” She continued to tug and, after a brief struggle with self-consciousness, Harry raised up enough to allow her to wrestle his shirt up and off until he was as naked as she.
Her eyes now softening, she smiled, her ardor clearly not dampened in the least at the sight. “There now. That is more equitable, is it not?” She leaned forward until her breasts brushed his bare chest.
“Who am I to argue with the woman who holds all the cards?” He massaged her bottom for a moment, then slid his hand up her back to pull her down for a kiss.
Her full length now pressed against him, she maneuvered herself slightly so that the very tip of his sha
ft nudged at her moist cleft. Then, deepening their kiss, she slowly impaled herself upon him, causing him to gasp into her mouth.
Joined, they began rocking together in that rhythm as old as time, their breaths coming shorter and shorter. When his release was imminent, Harry slipped his hand between them to bring her to her peak simultaneously with his own and an instant later they both cried aloud in ecstasy.
Spiraling slowly down from the heavens, Harry decided his two best friends had the right of it about the advantages of a love match.
Not that the word love had actually been uttered by either of them…yet.
* * *
Xena was tired but happy by the time she and Harry made their way downstairs for an early dinner, which they elected to have in relative privacy in the smaller breakfast parlor. She’d found their afternoon of lovemaking as eye-opening as it was enjoyable. Who could have guessed at so many different ways a man and woman might pleasure each other? And Harry had promised yet more lessons to come.
Over the meal, he resumed the questions their passionate interlude had interrupted, clearly curious to learn all he could about those portions of her story she had previously omitted.
“When did you discover… That is, were you aware of your, er, condition when you left Spain? When we last—”
“No, I didn’t learn I was pregnant until I’d been a week and more in England—and it came as quite a shock.” She related how she’d planned to enlist in the 66th before that discovery forced her to retreat to Yorkshire after all.
“And that is why you never left. Because of Theo.”
She nodded. “For the first year and more I was exceedingly resentful toward both you and my father—though eventually I was forced to admit that becoming pregnant would have prevented me continuing as I had even without what I perceived as your betrayal.”
