by Diana Quincy
“The bastard deserved to break his neck,” Sunny murmured. “I’m glad he fell off his horse.”
Isabel continued. “Naturally, I was destroyed by his decision. I couldn’t imagine a life without my babies. Then, about eighteen months later when Jacob died after being thrown from his mount, I saw my opportunity to reunite with my children.”
“But Abel said the children’s mother was a tavern wench who happily abandoned the children,” Sunny said.
“Jacob put about that lie,” Isabel said to him. “He wanted to discredit me. I did grow up in the West Indies, and everyone there knows me and my character, but Jacob was able to discredit me to the Fairfax relatives here in England. My father was the grandson of a marquess. He and my mother died while on a boating trip to a neighboring island.” She smiled with fondness at Denbury. “The viscount took me in and raised me alongside Abigail, his own daughter. He was very good to me.
“When my husband died and Jacob cast me out, Lord Denbury’s family took me in again. But once Jacob died, I went to Cornwall, where the girls were living with their new guardian, Lord Abel Fairfax, my late husband’s uncle, and presented myself as a governess. Lady Abigail provided me with a falsified letter of recommendation.”
“Why did you not simply tell Lord Abel who you are?” Sunny asked.
“I did not know Abel when I first came into his employ, and he is not entirely well. While he might accept me as the children’s mother, what if something happened to him and the girls were moved to another, less sympathetic guardian?”
“I do not understand. They are your children,” Sunny said. “You should have just claimed them.”
“It is not as simple as that,” Gilpin interjected. “The law gives a mother very few rights to her children, especially if the father designated a guardian before his death.”
“And in turn Jacob named Abel as guardian in the event of his death.” Isabel’s voice trembled with both pain and anger. “He wanted to make certain to keep my children from me.”
“You could have told me who you were once you and the children came into my care,” Sunny protested, hating to think of all she’d endured. “I would have set you and the girls up in a household of your own.”
“I know that now. But I could not risk you deciding that your cousin Jacob had been correct about me. I could not face the prospect of being separated from my children again.”
Guilt stabbed Sunny in the gut. He had taken the girls from her, just as she’d feared. “I was wrong to do what I did,” Sunny said. “I do beg your pardon.”
“Pay him no mind, Charity,” Denbury interjected. “He is merely attempting to stop you from giving damaging evidence against him.”
“As to that,” the Lord Chancellor said, “do you have something to tell us about His Grace’s fitness as a guardian?”
Isabel nodded. “I do.”
“Please go on,” the Lord Chancellor said.
She looked from Sunny to the Lord Chancellor. “The Duke of Sunderford is one of the finest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He is an excellent guardian who loves my daughters and puts their needs above all else.”
“Charity!” Denbury exclaimed. “Are you saying these things because you fear Sunderford will keep the children from you if he retains guardianship?”
“No, my lord, I am speaking honestly. When we first came to live with His Grace, he did host scandalous parties, but he kept such activities strictly separate from the children. He turned his…the chamber…where he used to hold these revels into a playroom for the children.” Warmth glistened in her beautiful eyes. “He even built Prudence a doll’s house.”
“I say,” Winchester interrupted. “This is not at all what your letter said.”
“I wrote that months ago, and I never intended for anyone to see it. I may even have embellished a bit.” She shot a conspiratorial look at Sunny, who had to swallow a smile because they both knew she had not exaggerated anything about his previous lifestyle. “The duke has not hosted any parties for a while now, and I am convinced he has not been with any women”—she drew a deep breath—“except for me.”
Denbury made a choking sound. “By God! She’s saying Sunderford took grievous advantage of her position in his household.”
“No.” She stared directly at Sunny. “He did not.”
Sunny could not allow Finch to expose her reputation to ruination, or to think that he would actually go through with his threat. “What Miss Finch means to say is that the only females I spend time with of late are her, until she recently left my employ, and the children. That is all.”
“I’ve heard enough,” the Lord Chancellor said. “Given what we’ve learned here today, I’m ready to make a ruling. There is no reason to waste any more of our time.”
Sunny dragged his attention away from Isabel to listen to the decision.
“The mother of these children informs the court that the Duke of Sunderford is an excellent guardian, and we are prepared to accept her view of the matter. However, children should be with their mother, and so I hereby order that the minor children, Patience Finch Fairfax and Prudence Finch Fairfax, be placed in the care of their mother, Mrs. Charity Fairfax.”
“Excellent,” Denbury mumbled.
“However, while the mother is to be the guardian of nurture, the Duke of Sunderford will remain as the children’s testamentary guardian, which means he will retain control of his wards’ property and money.”
Winchester shifted in his chair. “But how can you give custody to Mrs. Fairfax? She has admitted she anticipated her marriage vows to Mr. Fairfax. She is not a fit role model for innocent children.”
“Watch your tongue, Winchester,” Sunny growled. “Pray don’t insult my future duchess.”
“Duchess?” A speculative gleam entered Denbury’s eyes. “You intend to make Charity the Duchess of Sunderford?”
Isabel gave him a startled look. “But why?”
He smiled, his heart full. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I adore you. I haven’t even looked at another woman since you and the girls came into my life. And my life has been a misery these past few weeks when I couldn’t find you.”
“As heartwarming as these declarations are,” the Lord Chancellor said, “I do have other matters to attend to. This meeting is adjourned.”
Denbury stood. He was practically glowing. “Perhaps we should give Sunderford a moment alone with his future duchess.”
Sunny kept his eyes on Isabel, barely noticing the others departing, until the door shut and he was finally alone with her.
He moved toward her, but she was faster. She dashed toward him and launched herself into his arms.
* * *
—
Isabel almost cried with relief to be in Adam’s embrace once again. She’d missed everything about him, his scent, the warmth of his skin, those incredible eyes, making love with him.
“Promise me you’ll never leave me again.” His breath was warm on her neck as he embraced her.
“You have my word.” She held him tightly. She loved him so much her chest ached with it. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you want me.”
“I meant what I told Denbury.” He pulled back. “I want us to be married.”
He looked so grave, so incredibly handsome, the beautiful angles of his face so sharply cut, that it wasn’t easy for her to form a cohesive thought. “Adam, I am completely besotted by you. Of that there is no doubt.”
“Excellent. Then tell me you’ll be mine forever.”
“It’s just that I cannot share you with other women. I’ll be the most jealous wife in the world. I would make both of our lives a misery the minute you take a mistress.”
“I’m not going to take a mistress.”
She pulled back to examine his earnest face. “Given the life you’ve led,
are you certain you can make that promise?”
“Other men have managed it. Perhaps I am a better man than my father was. Agree to be my duchess and I’ll prove it to you.”
She pressed a tender kiss against his lips. “You are already a much better man than your father ever was.” She paused. “But what if you grow bored?”
“I don’t see that happening.” He ran his hands down over her bottom as he kissed her deeply. “We just might have to have a playroom of our own to keep things…interesting.”
He went down on one knee. “Isabel…Charity Isabel Comerford Fairfax, will you do me the greatest honor of my life by agreeing to become my wife?”
Isabel’s eyes filled. “Oh, Adam.”
“For God’s sake, Finch, say you’ll be my duchess and put me out of my misery.”
“Yes, I will.” She was tired of being careful, of guarding her heart and living half a life. With Sunny, she would live fully. He was infinitely worth any risk. “It would be my honor to be your wife. I will marry you.”
Triumph blazed in his eyes. “Excellent.” He surged to his feet and took her in a deep, long, demanding kiss that left her breathless and aching for more. Pulling his mouth from hers, he nuzzled her neck, the rough scratch of his chin delicious against her skin. “Before I lose all sense and take you right here, let’s get you home. Patience and Prudie have missed you terribly.”
* * *
—
“Are you saying that you’re our real mama?” Patience asked after Isabel hugged both girls forever. She’d missed them dearly. But at the depths of her soul, she’d never believed Sunny would keep the girls from her.
Prudie nibbled on her thumbnail as she digested the revelation. “You had to tell a story that you were our governess so that this mean cousin of Papa’s wouldn’t take you away from us?”
“Exactly.” Isabel pressed a kiss onto the child’s forehead. “But now we can all be together.”
Isabel and Sunny had found the girls in the playroom. Prudie at her doll’s house and Patience doing cartwheels on the beam.
Patience threw her arms around Isabel’s neck. “I’ve always wished we had a mama.”
“But we always have,” Prudie put in. “Izzy has always been our mama.”
Patience pulled back to look at Isabel. “Can we call you Mama now?”
Isabel’s heart tugged. “Yes, I have waited a long time to hear you call me that.”
Prudie wrapped her little arms around Isabel’s neck. “I love you, Mama.”
Isabel’s eyes watered. “And I love you, my daughters, more than you will ever know.”
Adam had taken a seat on the child-sized sofa, which barely accommodated his frame. “And we have more happy news. Your mama and I are to be wed.”
“Yay!” Prudie raced over and threw herself into Adam’s arms. “Does that mean we can call you Papa?”
He embraced the child, and his questioning gaze met Isabel’s. She nodded.
“Yes, indeed. I am your papa now.”
“Papa, Papa, Papa.” Patience cartwheeled across the room as she said the words. “That’s splendid.” And then she hopped on the wooden beam and began cartwheeling there. Isabel followed and stayed nearby to catch Patience when she fell off the beam. From her vantage point, she watched Prudie cuddle closer to Sunny.
“Will you tell us a story this evening at bedtime, Papa?”
“Doubtful. I don’t know any stories that are appropriate for children.”
“Did your papa ever tell you any stories?”
“He did not. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll come up to the nursery and listen while Mama tells you a story. How about that?”
She popped up to give Adam a kiss before climbing out of his lap and returning to her doll’s house.
Adam said to Isabel, “I have a question that’s been driving me to bedlam.”
“What is it?”
“Who the devil is Finch?”
She smiled. “It was my grandmother’s name.”
“Ah, that explains it.” He rose and went to take hold of Isabel’s hand. “Come.”
She went willingly. “Where are we going?”
He winked at her. “To our own playroom.” He swept her up in an intoxicating kiss, which prompted the girls to stare and giggle.
“After all,” he whispered softly in Isabel’s ear, “you and I have a great deal of romping to catch up on.”
Author’s Note
If you’re wondering why Isabel didn’t just go and get her children, as Sunny suggests, it’s because prior to 1839, a mother in England had no rights to her children, who were considered part of the “empire of the father.”
A mother was only entitled to “reverence and respect,” according to William Blackstone, a noted eighteenth century judge and politician. In an infamous 1824 case, the mother was denied custody of her six-year-old child even though her estranged husband was in debtors’ prison and had left the child with his mistress. A father’s absolute power continued even after his death because he could leave behind a will appointing a legal guardian for his children.
Mothers finally gained some parental rights with the Custody of Infants Act of 1839, which allowed them to petition for custody of younger children and access to older children. The bill was greatly influenced by reformer Caroline Norton, whose estranged husband had denied her access to their three young sons.
I’d like to add a quick word of thanks to Junessa Viloria at Penguin Random House—there’s nothing like being in sync with your editor! She makes the editing process a breeze. And to my agent, Kevan Lyon, for her tireless advocacy on my behalf. My friend Megann Yaqub is never too busy to brainstorm or read my latest draft, and my buddies at The Violet Femmes provide the writerly support that keeps this fun.
But most of all, my thanks go to you, the reader, for bringing me into your busy world. Without you, there would be no books!
To my nieces Kinzey and Talia for inspiring the characters of Patience and Prudence, and to Kyce for being so darn cute.
BY DIANA QUINCY
Spy Fall
License to Wed
From London with Love
The Duke Who Ravished Me
DIANA QUINCY is an award-winning former television journalist who decided she’d rather make up stories in which a happy ending is always guaranteed. Growing up as a U.S. Foreign Service brat, she visited many countries, including France, Bolivia, Panama, Peru, Egypt, Morocco, India, and Thailand. Diana is now happily settled in Virginia with her husband and two sons. When not bent over her laptop or trying to keep up with laundry, she enjoys reading, bingeing on Netflix, and planning her next travel adventure.
Diana loves to hear from readers. You can keep up with her at:
dianaquincy.com
Facebook.com/diana.quincy.10
Twitter: @Diana_Quincy
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