by Ava Stone
Peter nodded in solemn agreement. “Papa did say I was the man of the house. I’m sure he’d want me to meet Lieutenant Warner.”
Lydia sighed with exasperation. It had been so long since she’d seen her brother. And that night— No, she mustn’t think of that. Lydia shook her head. It was cowardly of her, but perhaps if the children were with her, she and Henry could deal with each other in a civil way. “Henry.” Lydia smiled at her son. “He’d be your Uncle Henry. Very well, you may both accompany me to the green parlor.”
Penny chattered the entire way, though Lydia couldn’t focus on her daughter’s words and would have been hard pressed if quizzed on the content. They reached the green parlor, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. She took a steadying breath and felt Peter squeeze her hand with reassurance.
“You said you missed him. If he’s come back, you won’t have to worry about him at sea anymore.”
Peter was such a tender-hearted little boy. Old for his years, like Lydia had been. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
With courage she didn’t know she had, Lydia pushed the door open and found her brother peering out a window with his hands clasped behind his back, standing with a proud stance. At the sound of their entrance, Henry turned around and smiled at her.
He looked different than she remembered, larger, and his skin was very tanned from living aboard a frigate. His thick, auburn hair had been lightened by the sun to a coppery bronze color, but his steely grey-blue eyes were the same. He wore his regimentals, and gold buttons sparkled against the deep navy of his uniform.
He seemed to be assessing her appearance the same way she was doing with his. “Moppet?” He crossed the room with a smile and opened his arms for her.
Lydia wanted to believe that this was the brother she remembered from her childhood. The one who had protected her and would never have hurt her. She smiled cautiously and stepped toward him. Henry enveloped her in his strong embrace.
“You look so well, Lyddie.”
Lydia stepped back to admire her brother’s appearance. “As do you, Henry. What are you doing here?” Then she felt a little tug on her dress and her eyes flew down to meet Penny’s. “Oh, sorry. Henry, these are my children, Peter and Penelope. Children this is Lieutenant Warner, your Uncle Henry.”
Henry stared at Peter for quite some time, but then eventually smiled at the boy. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“Please—” Lydia gestured to the brocade settee— “have a seat. The children’s governess is off for the day, I hope you don’t mind that they join us.”
“Not at all.” Henry dropped onto the settee and Penny immediately climbed up next to him. She was such a flirt, even at five, though Henry paid the little girl almost no attention. Instead he was intently focused on Peter, who quietly found a spot in a nearby chair. “When I arrived in London there was a letter waiting for me at the Admiralty from Lord Masten.”
Lydia frowned as she took a seat across from her brother. Why would Robert do such a thing and not tell her? “Oh?”
“Yes, he asked me to come here at my earliest convenience.”
She feigned a pleasant smile. “Unfortunately, you’ve missed him. Masten left just yesterday for London on urgent business.”
“Will he be gone long? I am on leave while The Intrepid is in dry dock for repairs. I could stay here and wait for him.”
Lydia’s heart raced and when Penny reached for one of Henry’s gold buttons. What did Robert want with her brother? What would happen if Henry told Robert what had occurred between them? What would Robert think of her then?
She must have hesitated to answer too long, because Penny threw her a pleading look. “Please, Mama. Miss Mitford has been telling us delightful stories about pirates and buried treasure.” The little girl looked up at Henry and batted her big brown eyes. “Have you ever fought pirates, Uncle Henry?”
Henry smirked at the child and tapped her nose indulgently. “Sorry, no pirates. Just the French, but they’re equally bad.”
Penny’s eyes grew round with excitement. “Please, Mama. Can Uncle Henry stay?”
This won’t be like last time. She had swarms of servants around at her beck and call. She wouldn’t let Henry be alone with the children. In fact, she would make sure that she and Miss Mitford never left them unattended.
What had Robert wished to accomplish with this?
Lydia nodded reluctantly and eyed her brother wearily. “Of course, he is family.”
When Dunsley opened the door with tea service, Lydia asked him to have a room prepared for her brother, and she prayed that she wasn’t making a mistake. Lydia poured some tea in a cup and added a biscuit to a plate. If she remembered correctly, Henry required neither milk nor sugar. She handed him the refreshments.
He smiled and took a bite of biscuit. “Ah, you have no idea how good this tastes after being a sea. No weevils.”
Lydia cringed at the thought, but then refocused on Penny who was talking again. “Do you know Fiona?”
Henry shot a look at Lydia for clarification. “Fiona? I don’t think so.”
Lydia explained, “She’s one of James and Bethany’s daughters.”
Henry furrowed his brow at that, but nodded and then turned his attention back to Penny who was happily continuing. “Yes, she’s our cousin. She was here last week and she cried and pouted and threw things—”
“Pen!” Peter scowled at his sister.
“And my Papa said it made him glad I’m his daughter.”
Lydia narrowed her eyes on Penny and frowned. “I think that if your Papa heard you tell someone that, he’d be quite unhappy with you, young lady.”
“But I’m just telling Uncle Henry.”
“I think you’ve told Uncle Henry quite enough. No more out of you.”
Henry looked at Peter, still studying the boy intently. “You seem like a quiet lad. How old are you, Peter?”
“Seven, sir,” Peter answered both quickly and quietly.
“Seven?” Henry repeated and his tanned face began to drain of its color.
***
Lydia found Miss Mitford in the library and apologized for interrupting the governess on her day off, but pleaded that she watch the children for the rest of the day. “It is very important that you never leave them alone, Miss Mitford.” She sighed while she contemplated the situation at hand. “In fact, would you mind if we moved your bed into the nursery for the next little while, so that you can stay with them at night too?”
That was a most bizarre request, and Lydia knew it. But she felt that there was safety in numbers and that she could best protect everyone this way. Miss Mitford furrowed her brow and looked at Lydia as if she’d lost her mind. “Sleep with the children as well, my lady?”
“I’m not feeling my best, Miss Mitford, and with Masten gone, I’m afraid that if something happened to either Peter or Penny that I couldn’t reach them in time.”
The governess frowned. “I’m just down the hall as it is, Lady Masten.”
“Please, Miss Mitford, don’t ask me to explain.”
Some emotion crossed the governess’ face, though Lydia couldn’t tell what it was, but in the end Miss Mitford nodded in agreement. “Whatever you wish, my lady.”
***
After depositing Peter and Penny into Miss Mitford’s care, Lydia decided to take a walk in the garden. Her nerves were on end, and she could use time alone to think. As she made her way past the roses, Henry’s voice startled her from behind. “Lyddie, wait up.”
She stopped. She wasn’t quite ready to face Henry alone. But what could she do? Run and hide? She was a bit old for that. Lydia turned around and before she knew it her brother was right behind her. “Yes, Henry?”
He smiled in an obvious attempt to put her at ease. Then he gestured to the castle that towered above them. “I never pictured you living someplace like this.”
“Honestly, neither did I.”
“It will be hard for me to adjust to having s
o much space. I’m used to the cramped cabin that I share with two other lieutenants.”
“Well,” she teased, “I’m sure I could find something in the servants’ quarters if you’d feel more comfortable there.”
Henry threw back his head and laughed. “It’s good to know you’re not so stuffy, Lyddie. I must say, I was worried about that.” He offered her his arm, which she took with the tiniest bit of hesitation. “I’m glad to have this time alone with you.”
She winced at his words and wished she could keep herself from reacting, though she couldn’t help it.
“That’s exactly what I was afraid of.” Henry sighed as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “Lydia, words mean nothing, I know, but I am so sorry for what I did to you.”
She stared up at her brother in surprise. Was he actually going to talk about that night? That was the last thing she ever wanted to discuss, with him or anyone else. Only Aunt Agnes knew what happened that night and the two of them swore never to tell anyone.
“I don’t know what was wrong with me, or why I—I wasn’t myself,” he continued with a pained tone.
“I don’t want to discuss this, Henry.”
He frowned, “I’m sorry, Lyddie, but we must. I can’t ever undo my actions, and I’ve been torturing myself over hurting you for years. And then you’d send me socks or a scarf and my guilt nearly killed me.”
Was there another conversation in all the world that was more uncomfortable? “The past can’t be changed, Henry. There is no point in discussing it now.”
Then Henry stopped walking and drew Lydia to a halt. “I know that, moppet. But there are some things that need to be dealt with. I have to know. Is—Is Peter my son?”
A shocked gurgle of surprise slipped from her throat and she stepped away from her brother. “God, no!” Lydia’s face took on an anguished expression. What an awful thought that was. “Neither Peter nor Penny are my natural children. Masten and I adopted them.”
Henry closed his eyes in relief. “Thank God. When he told me his age, I thought I’d die on the spot.” Then he opened his eyes and raked a concerned look over Lydia’s body. “You’ve adopted children? Can you not have them? Did I…do something that damaged you?”
Lydia’s face was flushed red and she turned her back on Henry. Would he ever stop discussing that? She couldn’t pretend as if it never happened if he wouldn’t stop rehashing the incident. “I am perfectly fine. In fact, I’m enceinte now. So, please let’s stop talking of this.”
Henry placed a comforting hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “Do you know what kind of blackguard I felt like? How could I have done such a thing to you, my little moppet? God, Lyddie, can you ever forgive me?”
Tears began to pool in Lydia’s eyes. She did not want to think about that night. Please let this conversation end. And she didn’t want Robert to ever know about it. Aunt Agnes was emphatic that no one ever find out. She’d told Lydia that if people knew, they’d ostracize her, blame her. “Henry, you’re forgiven if you’ll never mention it to anyone ever again.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you, Lyddie. I feel as if a giant weight has been lifted from me.”
~ 23 ~
Robert made it to London in a day and a half. He was exhausted, as was Devil’s Inferno, but time was of the essence. Without hesitation he directed his stallion down Piccadilly to his brother’s rooms. Luke lived in a stylish building, in an area where many young bucks resided. Robert easily persuaded Lucas’ landlord to let him up the stairs to his brother’s apartments.
It was the early afternoon, which meant that Luke was probably still sleeping off whatever ills he’d been involved with the night before. Robert pounded on the door furiously.
Hopefully, Lucas was suffering from imbibing too much the previous evening. Robert pounded even louder on the door, hoping that the sound was echoing inside what he imagined was his brother’s alcohol-soaked brain. “Lucas! Open the bloody door!” he bellowed.
Robert heard someone stumble inside the room and he prepared himself to set eyes on his barely-dressed, still inebriated brother. But when the door opened, he was surprised to see that Luke was already dressed for the day, and looking as sober as a vicar on Sunday morning. “Robert? Oh, God, you’ve heard.” His eyes dropped to the floor.
After spending a day and a half on the back of a horse with adrenaline pumping through his veins, and now staring at his lout of a brother, Robert felt his hold on his temper snap. Of course he’d heard what Luke had done. Had he honestly thought Robert wouldn’t hear of it? Robert roared into the room, pushing Luke’s chest with both hands. “I should kill you on the spot.”
He expected Luke to fight back or perhaps defend himself, but his brother simply nodded his head in agreement. “Aye, you probably should.”
Robert held Luke’s jacket in his clutches and he growled with all the fury bottled up inside him, “How could you do this to me? How could you maliciously destroy my wife like that?”
Still, Luke couldn’t meet his eyes and wouldn’t fight back. “I have no excuse, Robert. I was deep in my cups, but I shouldn’t have talked to Cecily.”
“Cecily?” Robert spit out. “What does she have to do with this?” He released his hold on his brother and watched as Luke slid noiselessly into a seat.
Luke dropped his head into his hands and shrugged. “I don’t really know. But I’m certain she’s the only one I said anything to. And she’d seemed so concerned and comforting at the time.”
“Why would you tell Cecily Rigsley that you got my wife with child?”
Luke snorted and his head shot up. “I never said that! At least I don’t think I did. I can’t imagine saying such a thing. Honestly, Rob, I don’t know who the father is, but I know for certain it’s not me, if that’s what this is about.”
Robert balled up his fist and spoke through clinched teeth. “Let me make myself very clear to you, Lucas. That is my child. Mine. I sired it.”
“Robert,” Luke replied wearily, “I know you think so, but—”
Robert lifted his brother off the ground by his jacket and thrust him against the wall. Truthfully, he was pleased to see a look of fear that crossed Luke’s eyes. “I don’t just think so. I have never been more certain of anything in my life. Do you hear me?”
Luke nodded, but looked at Robert pityingly, as if he was sorry for his brother’s blind delusions. Robert dropped him back to the ground with a thud. “If it makes you feel any better, Lucas, I do believe that Lydia was not an innocent when you took her to your bed.”
Luke’s ears perked up. “You do? Then, why…?”
Robert fell into a seat and rubbed his brow. God, he needed someone to talk to. He knew it shouldn’t be Luke, but this wasn’t something he could talk over with anyone else. He closed his eyes painfully. “I have reason to believe that she was violated before she ever met you.”
“Violated?” Luke frowned disbelievingly, up until he saw the tortured look on his brother’s face. “Are you certain?”
Robert couldn’t speak. His throat was choked up and all he could do was nod. It wasn’t until he felt the first tear trail its way down his neck that Robert realized he was crying. He sat up straight and rubbed his cheeks raw. He never cried. Never. This was unacceptable. Another tear fell from his eye. Bloody hell!
“For God’s sake, Robert. If I’d known…” Luke muttered in shock.
Robert glared at his brother and somehow found his voice. “Everything was fine, we were fine, and then you had to go and ruin everything! Like you always do. And now, after all the indignities Lydia has already suffered, she will never be able to show her face in society again—all thanks to you. There will always be talk that my child, my heir, is your bastard.”
“I swear to you, Robert, I never said that.”
“Well, you’re going to help me straighten it out. And then you will refrain from ever speaking ill of my wife again. She’s the kindest, most forgiving soul in the world. I may not
be able to fix her past, but I bloody well can protect her future.”
***
A plan was called into action. Robert, Lucas, Caroline, Brendan, and Chet, fresh from Dorset, converged in the gold parlor at Masten House. Battle lines were drawn up, and everyone knew the role they were to play. It was the first time in years, maybe ever, that all three Beckford siblings had worked together with one goal in mind: protect Lydia and her unborn child at all costs.
For the next few days, Robert and Luke were seen everywhere together: the theatre, Astley’s Amphitheatre, at one club or another along St. James, and even at a musicale featuring the talents of their young cousin Miss Olivia Danbury—much to Luke’s chagrin. Robert’s unforgiving nature was legendary. It would be hard for people to believe that the Earl of Masten would go about Town with the man who cuckolded him, brother or not. That just wasn’t in his nature and everyone knew it.
But it was Caroline’s role that was the most integral in starting to squash the rumors regarding her sister-in-law. Word began to spread throughout the ton. At first it started off slowly. Lady Staveley mentioned to Lady Tatton, a notorious gossip, how sad it was that her brother, Lucas, would never be a father. This was why poor Lucas had never married—he’d been diagnosed as sterile by old Doctor Grant back in Dorset when he was just a boy. Terrible riding accident.
Caroline shook her head sadly when she relayed the same tale to Lady Pennington. Luke had always been such a warm and loving uncle to her three children, and though he was happy for Robert’s good fortune, he was slightly jealous as well. Lady Pennington had frowned at hearing the story. “Dear me, I never would have guessed such a thing. He seems like such a young, virile lad.”
But it was finally after Caroline retold the sad tale to Lady Ridgemont that news flew all over Town like wildfire. Hell hath no fury, and all of that. Lady Ridgemont was only too happy to spread the tale of Luke’s impotency to anyone that would listen. In just a matter of days Lucas Beckford would never again be seen as a handsome devil-may-care rogue. He was, instead, a pitiful shell of a man who could never father a child.
