by Ava Stone
But that truce came to an end one sunny June afternoon in the library. Lydia had gone to find a book on gardening, hoping that she might learn something helpful on the hobby since she was so poor at it. Instead, she discovered Miss Mitford wrapped in Luke’s arms in the midst of a passionate kiss.
The lecher!
Lydia couldn’t help but gasp. The two would-be lovers flew apart and Miss Mitford rushed from the room without so much as a look behind her. Lydia narrowed her eyes on her brother-in-law and took a determined step toward him. “How dare you take advantage of that girl in this home?”
In the past, Luke would have turned on his handsome smile and tried to charm himself out of whatever trouble he was in. But it seemed that he simply wasn’t in the mood to play those games today. “That girl knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“Yes, well, I remember thinking the same thing where you were concerned.” She pursed her lips together. “Against my better judgment, I let Robert talk me into letting you stay here, but I won’t let you do to that poor girl what you did to me.”
Luke scoffed. Loudly. “I’ve got news for you, Lydia. No one lets Robert do anything. Regardless of whatever hold you have on my brother, I doubt very much that has changed.”
“Weren’t you only going to be here a few days, Luke? It’s now been weeks. I’m sure your tarts and gambling buddies must be missing you.”
***
Now, Luke grinned charmingly, but it was all an act—and they both knew it. “Am I to take it that you’ve grown tired of my company?”
“I certainly meant no offense, but—”
“Oh, Lydia, you meant offense, all right. But don’t trouble your pretty little head over it. I’m not going anywhere. At least not until I figure out what you’ve done to Robert.”
“What I’ve done to Robert?” Lydia took a hesitant step backward and stared questioningly at Luke. “I’ve not done anything to your brother.”
She didn’t look quite right. Her face had grown a bit pale. He must have shocked her with his boldness. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage and get the truth out of her. “Oh, come now, Lydia. You and I both know that you’re not who you pretend to be.”
“Not who I pretend to be?” she echoed with a frown.
Truly, she was an excellent actress.
“And now after all these years, you and Robert are suddenly in each others’ pockets? You’re after something, Lydia, and I intend to find out what it is.”
She staggered back and slowly shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking ab—”
But she wasn’t able to finish her statement. Instead, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell, cracking her skull against the corner of the bookcase as she collapsed in a heap on the floor. For just a split second, Luke gaped at her in complete shock. Then he rushed to her side and yelled loudly for help.
Sweet Lucifer, he’d never seen that coming.
When he touched her cheek, Lydia’s eyes flickered open and she started to rouse, though it was clear she was dizzy and unable to focus on him.
“Sweet Lucifer, Lydia. Are you all right?” he whispered in concern. He’d wanted to get answers from her, but he hadn’t meant to knock her unconscious. Then before he knew what had happened, Lydia’s face took on a mortified expression of either shock or fear—he couldn’t tell which—and she cast up the contents of her stomach all over his Hessians.
Damn it! Those boots were brand new. Realization struck Luke like a bolt of lightning.
Good God! Lydia was pregnant.
All the puzzle pieces fit together now. The little whore was trying to pass off someone else’s child as Robert’s. She must have had to get into the earl’s good graces quickly, so that the fool might actually believe the child was his. Luke’s pulse pounded in his head as anger set in. She was even more devious and deceitful than he’d first thought. But this—this was unconscionable. Robert didn’t deserve this.
“I’m s—so sorry,” Lydia stuttered as she wiped tears away from her eyes. Color slowly began to return to her face. Then she struggled to sit up, but ended up lying her head back down. Gingerly, she touched a bump that was forming on the side of her head.
Luke shook his head, stood, and backed away as if he’d been burned. “You won’t get away with this,” he growled.
Dunsley hurried into the room and a look of horror crossed the old man’s face when he saw the countess sprawled across the floor. “Lady Masten!” The butler rushed forward and helped Lydia get back to her feet.
Still dumbfounded, Luke stumbled backward and then fled the library.
***
Lydia soon found herself dressed in her long cotton nightrail and lying in bed—tucked in like a sick child. Betsy applied a cool cloth to her forehead and calmly explained that a footman had already been dispatched to find Lord Masten.
Kistler paced in the corner of the room and Betsy turned her attention to him and ordered quietly, “Jon, go fetch a new pot of tea, and ask Cook to add a pinch of ginger.”
Normally, the prickly valet would have bristled at an order from the maid, but he looked relieved to have something to do. He nodded and then fled the room.
Lydia closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “Ginger?” she asked quietly.
Betsy nodded knowingly. “It helps with the nausea, or at least old Mrs. Trumball—she’s a midwife over in Lulworth—says it does.”
Midwife? Lydia groaned and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t be able to keep her secret anymore. And she had wanted so badly to be absolutely certain of her condition before she told Robert. What if she was wrong? She didn’t want him to get his hopes up over nothing.
Then she remembered the strange argument she’d had with Luke before she fainted and all that had come after that. Had she actually gotten sick on the poor man’s boots? How dreadfully humiliating! She didn’t think she could ever look her brother-in-law in the eyes again, not that she was anxious to see him anytime soon.
There was a soft knock on the door. Weakly, she nodded for Betsy to answer it, which the maid promptly did. With a concerned look, Miss Mitford stood on the threshold with a tear-stained face and her hands clasped together tightly. “Oh, Lady Masten, we just heard you were ill. The children wanted me to make sure you’re all right.”
Lydia smiled and held out her hand to the girl, the earlier scene with the governess and Luke long forgotten. “Miss Mitford, please tell the children not to worry. I will be fine. After I’ve regained my bearings, I’ll stop by the schoolroom to see them.”
Miss Mitford nodded. “Very well, my lady.” Then the governess slid away.
Betsy closed the door and walked purposefully back to Lydia’s side. Hands on her hips, the maid shook her head at the countess. “Visiting the schoolroom? I don’t think his lordship will approve, my lady. At least not until Doctor Grant has had a look at you.”
Lydia struggled to sit up and tried to look sternly at her maid—but it was hard when she knew the girl was only concerned about her welfare. “For goodness’ sakes. It’s just a bump on the head, Betsy. I’ll be fine.”
“It’s not the bump I’m talking about, Lady Masten, and you well know it.”
Lydia blushed. Up until now, she hadn’t realized that anyone else might know her secret. “I’m not certain of anything yet, Betsy.”
“Oh? And just who do you think empties the chamber pots in this room, my lady? You’ve been sick every morning for nearly a fortnight.”
“Betsy!” Lydia sputtered in shock. She couldn’t believe her maid would mention such a vile thing.
“Don’t Betsy me. You and Lord Masten share a bedchamber. It was just a matter of time.”
“Well, even if you’re right, there’s no reason I can’t simply visit the children in the schoolroom. I’ll have you know that my mother cooked and cleaned every day until my sister was born.”
Betsy shook her head with a grim determination. “Dunsley has already sent for Doctor Grant. And until
his lordship says you may leave that bed, I’ll watch over you myself. And if not me, then Kistler.”
Lydia sighed tiredly. “Very well. I’ll wait for his lordship.”
***
Panting, Robert rushed through the front doors of Gosling Park. The second footman had tracked him down in the stables and told him that something was wrong with Lydia. He’d left the poor man in a cloud of dust and sprinted back to Gosling like he was on fire. A somber looking Dunsley met him in the front entryway. “I’ve already sent for Doctor Grant, my lord.”
Robert nodded, as if in a trance. Lydia had seemed fine when he left her that morning. How could something have hit her so suddenly? The thought of his wife being ill and in pain made his stomach churn.
He made his way quickly down the corridor toward the staircase that led to their room, and he wouldn’t have stopped for anything but he heard yelling coming from a small parlor at the end of the hallway.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Juliet! It’s hardly the same thing.” It was Luke’s exasperated voice. Robert frowned and started in that direction.
Before he could open the door, it flew open on its own and Robert was very nearly knocked to the floor by the fuming governess. “Just stay far away from me, Lucas.”
Miss Mitford didn’t even acknowledge Robert’s presence as she stormed down the corridor. He stared after the departing governess and then turned his attention on Luke, who now stood before him. This was the very last thing Robert needed right now. He glared at his brother and then turned on his heel toward the staircase. “We will discuss this later, Luke.” Robert gestured in the direction the angry governess had gone.
But Luke chased after him and grabbed his arm. “Actually, Robert, I need to speak with you right now.” And then he began to haul Robert inside the parlor.
Robert shook his head. “Something’s wrong with Lydia. We can discuss your attempts to seduce members of my staff later.” He tried to free himself from his brother’s grasp, but Luke’s hold on his arm only tightened with determination.
“I’m not trying to seduce anyone. And nothing’s wrong with Lydia. She’s simply with child.”
With child.
The statement was blunt and simple. Robert stepped backward, stunned. And then he grinned and nodded like a fool. “I must see her.”
“Damn it, Robert!” Luke growled. “You need to hear me out first.”
Robert could barely concentrate. Was it possible? Was Lydia really carrying his child? He had to get to her. But damn it if Luke wasn’t successful in pulling him into the small parlor.
When Luke firmly shut the door behind them, he spun around with a painful expression. “This is important, Robert.”
Exactly what kind of trouble had Luke gotten himself into with Miss Mitford? Robert heaved a sigh. Dealing with his brother was the last thing in the world he wanted to do just now. What he wanted was to be was at Lydia’s bedside, but his brother seemed unusually determined. So he figured the best thing to do was stop wasting time, listen to whatever Luke had to say, and then climb the stairs to Lydia’s bedside. “Out with it then. I want to see Lydia,” he barked impatiently.
Luke took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to be made a fool of by your wife, Robert. She isn’t who she appears to be, she never has been.”
Robert furrowed his brow. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“I honestly never wanted to have this conversation with you, Rob. But I can’t keep my mouth closed anymore—not when you’re the one who’ll suffer.”
This didn’t sound good. Robert was fairly certain he didn’t want to hear whatever it was Luke meant to say. “Can’t this wait, Lucas? I really need to get to my wife.”
Luke looked anguished and harshly rubbed his own brow. “Haven’t you ever wondered, Robert, why I fled Staveley’s after Lydia and I were caught together?”
“Actually, no.” At the time, he’d been so angry with Luke, the why hadn’t really mattered. “I just chalked it up to you being you.”
Bitterly, Luke laughed. “Yes, your confidence in me has always been overwhelming.” Then he started pacing. “All these years you thought I’d ruined and abandoned her. But you should know that’s not the way it was, Robert.”
Truthfully, Robert wanted to forget the incident at the Staveley’s had ever even taken place. If he’d spent any real time dwelling on the fact that Luke had touched Lydia, that he’d had her in his bed, Robert would have gone stark-raving mad with jealousy. So, he certainly didn’t want to rehash the particulars of that situation with his brother. Especially not now, while Lydia was waiting for him. “I don’t know what this is about, Luke, but I don’t think there’s any question about whether or not you ruined Lydia. Staveley found the two of you together. And really, there’s no point in discussing it now.”
Luke smiled—not the charming smile he usually wore, but a pained expression that was instantly disturbing to Robert. “Oh, I bedded Lydia. I’m not denying it. But I didn’t ruin her. Someone before me enjoyed that privilege.”
Robert felt his blood run cold. Why would Luke utter such a vile thing? And how could he keep himself from murdering his own brother?
“I wasn’t about to marry her,” Luke continued, unaware that his life was in serious danger. “Why should I be tied to her for the rest of my life, when someone else had ruined her? But then you jumped in there to save me from disgracing the Beckford name and married the little whore in my stead.”
Robert’s jaw tightened and his steely gaze narrowed in on Luke. “You will refrain from speaking ill of my wife. Because you’re my brother, I’m going to pretend like we never had this conversation. And then—”
“Yes, go ahead and live in your dream world, Robert.”
It took all the self-control Robert possessed not to strangle the life out of his brother right then and there. God knew the bounder deserved it, but at the moment he was more concerned with Lydia’s welfare and getting to her side. Robert started for the door. “Leave Gosling Park and don’t come back, Lucas. Not ever.”
But Luke sidestepped in front of Robert. “I’m not done.” He squared his shoulders and pressed on. “It was all an act, Rob. She pretended to be an innocent and virginal. I was completely fooled by her. And let’s just say I’m more than a little dubious about the paternity of this child of hers. I think I’ll hold off on my congratulations, Robert, to see who the child looks like first.”
Robert glared at his brother, literally shaking with fury. There were parts about his wife’s life he was sure he knew nothing about. However, if Lydia was with child, Robert had no doubt that he was the father. After all, it was Robert who had forced Lydia back under his control. It was Robert who had asked Lydia live with him at Gosling Park. And it was Robert who had convinced Lydia to give him his heir. Of course, none of that was information that Lucas was privy to, and with good reason.
But the incredibly insulting conclusion that Luke had come to was disturbing on many levels. The first was that his reprobate of a brother seemed more sincere and earnest than Robert could ever remember him being before. But most importantly, the poison that spewed from Luke’s mouth was precisely why his brother couldn’t stay here any longer. If Luke remained at Gosling, his vicious words would distress Lydia and would hurt her further. And that, Robert couldn’t allow.
He started for the door again. “It must be hard for you to realize that you won’t be my heir, Lucas, but I’m sure you’ll get used to the idea.”
Luke laughed cynically. “It’s not my greed that makes me dubious, Robert, but my intimate knowledge of the Lady in question.”
Robert snapped. In the blink of an eye, he had his hands wrapped around his brother’s throat and growled through clenched teeth. “I don’t ever need to be reminded again that you once shared a bed with my wife.”
Luke pulled at his hands and gasped for breath. “Rob!”
With a force he didn’t know he had, Robert shoved his brother out of the way.
“You lying bastard, if you’re still here by the time I finish checking on my wife, I will kill you.”
Robert stormed from the parlor and sped up the stairs to his chambers. He took a deep, steadying breath before he pushed open the door and saw his wife resting peacefully in their bed. Betsy was shaking out one of Lydia’s dresses and smiled with relief when she saw him.
Robert nodded to the maid. “Betsy, will you find Dunsley and ask him to call for my brother’s coach? Mr. Beckford has decided return to London. I believe he’s in a bit of a hurry.”
“Right away, my lord.” The maid left the dress laid out across a chair and hurried toward the door.
“And bring Doctor Grant as soon as he arrives.”
“Yes, of course.” Betsy smiled reassuringly at him before she shut the door behind her.
Finally alone, Robert crossed the floor in three strides, his brow creased with concern. He took her delicate hand in his. “Oh, darling, I was so worried about you. I came as fast as I could.” Then he pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. “How are you?”
Lydia smiled tentatively. “It’s just a bump on the head, Robert. I’ll be fine.”
A bump on the head? Robert frowned. Luke had been insistent that she was with child—insultingly so. “How did it happen, sweetheart?” He tilted her face toward him so he could examine at the goose-egg sized bump on the side of her head.
Lydia softly answered, “I—I fainted and hit my head on a bookcase in the library.”
He couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his face, or the excitement in his voice. “You fainted?”
She nodded sullenly. “I’m afraid I got sick all over your brother’s boots. The whole thing was very embarrassing.”
Robert now grinned from ear to ear. To hell with Luke and his damned boots. “Oh, God, Lydia! Do you know what this means?”
