She laid her cheek against his. "If you won't blame yourself, then I won't blame myself either. Do we strike a bargain?"
He laughed. "That's the spirit I want to see. Together we will fight the world, my dear child. We are from a proud and noble family. When the Chatsworths have banded together, they have never been defeated."
"Papa, I cannot go back to Chatsworth with you. Already your friends believe the worst about me. Before it was untrue; now I'm not so sure."
"That's where you are wrong, my dear. When Ransford heard you had been kidnapped, he and I had a long talk. I explained the trick you had played on him, and he even laughed. He went to the king and retracted all he had said about you. You can only guess how many people have come up to me and said that it is a pity you were unjustly accused."
"I'm glad for you, Papa, but that won't help either one of us now."
"I have a plan, Season. I have been thinking about giving up my public life. You and I will return to Chatsworth and raise your child. I suppose we can make up some story about your being married here in the Colonies."
Season had never seen her father behave in this way. She knew how much his seat in The House of Lords meant to him, and she certainly would not allow him to give it up on her account.
"If it is your wish, Papa, I will go home with you, but only if you promise me you won't give up your office. I have enough guilt, do not add more to it."
"You are such a dear child. It's a pity it took a near tragedy to make me see that." He patted her hand. "We shall talk on this more later. Right now I want you to rest."
"Papa, I suppose if Edmund were still willing to marry me when he finds out the truth about me and the baby, I could . . . marry him."
"No, I will never ask that of you again. If some day you find a man you want to marry, then you will have my blessing. Until that time, put the thought out of your mind. Perhaps it would be best for all concerned if, when the child is born, we give it to someone who will care for it."
"No, Papa, I could never give this child away. No matter who his father was, he will be a Chatsworth."
Her father's eyes became sad. "If that is your wish, we will keep the child." He bent forward and kissed Season on the cheek. "You rest now."
Season watched her father leave the room. Her heart was breaking for the pain she had caused him. There was no joy in her heart at the thought of going back to Chatsworth, just as there were no tender feelings inside her for the child she carried. But she would have her baby and take it to Chatsworth. Perhaps in time she would be able to forget about the child's father.
The Duke of Chatsworth sipped his claret while studying Lucas Carrington's face. He had begun to respect this young man when he met him in New York, and he had learned, on the trip to Virginia, that they shared many common interests. Lucas was obviously a man with a great deal of common sense, and his plantation proved him to be a shrewd businessman. The duke thought that if his own son had lived, he would not have wanted him to be any different from Lucas Carrington.
"Rebecca has told me, sir, that your daughter is feeling much better since your visit with her."
The Duke of Chatsworth took a deep drink of his claret and set the glass down. He hesitated to answer, not knowing what to say. Soon all the world would know that his daughter was going to have a baby without benefit of marriage. He made a quick decision that he would confide in Lucas Carrington, somehow sensing he could trust the young man.
"First of all, let me start by saying how grateful I am that you took my daughter in. You will find that I am a very generous man where my daughter is concerned. I would like to repay you."
"Your generosity verges on being an insult, sir. I would never take money in exchange for my hospitality."
The duke smiled. "I thought that might be your attitude, my boy. Forget I brought it up. In any case, I won't have to encroach on your generosity much longer. I will be taking my daughter back to Chatsworth Castle as soon as her health permits."
Lucas studied the older man's face. "I would be sorry to see you rush her recovery."
Mason Chatsworth was quiet for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. "I have just learned some very grave news, Lucas. You will understand my reluctance to speak of it, and I will ask you to keep what I am about to tell you in the strictest confidence."
Lucas' face whitened. "Your daughter isn't worse is she, sir?"
Lord Chatsworth took a deep breath. "Not in the way you mean. Season is with . . . child!"
Lucas felt as if someone had just dealt him a heavy blow to the midsection. He gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting on so tightly that his fingers whitened. "Is it a certainty, sir?"
"My daughter seems to think it is. It would seem that black-hearted pirate had his way with her. I would kill him with my bare hands if I knew where to find him," the duke said, tossing down the rest of his drink.
"Is that what your daughter said?"
"You may not believe this, but my daughter tried to defend the man. That is the way Season is. I don't mind telling you, I have been a failure as a father, but I intend to make it up to her now. I allowed her to grow up alone at Chatsworth, with no one to see to her wellbeing except the servants. She was always a sweet child though, and she never complained when I was too busy to spend Christmas with her or when I forgot about her birthday."
"You don't have to tell me this, sir."
The duke's eyes became sad. "It needs to be said, but I suppose the one I should be addressing is Season. You should have seen her eyes light up every time I came home. She has always been so much like her mother, lovely and kind. Unlike her mother, however, Season has the devil's own temper when she becomes angry. Did Season ever tell you her mother was the daughter of a Scottish laird?"
"No, I never knew that."
"Her mother was sometimes wild and unpredictable, but never in all our life together did I have one boring day. After she died, I never found a woman who could compare with her, so I never remarried."
Lucas was having a hard time following the duke's conversation. All he could think about was Season and what she must be going through. "Your Grace, I hope you won't think me impertinent, but I would deem it a great honor if you would allow your daughter to marry me.
The duke let out his breath. "No, it's impossible. You are a fine young man and I admire you, but Season is, after all, of noble blood."
"I understand that, Your Grace, but you have my word that I would make her a good husband. I would treat the child she is carrying as if it were my own."
"You would be willing to marry Season, knowing that she carries another man's child?"
"I would be honored to be her husband."
"What are your feelings for Season?"
Lucas looked the duke straight in the eye. "I feel very much about your daughter as you must have felt about your wife. I believe that if I were married to her I would never know a boring day. Long ago I recognized the qualities in your daughter that you just spoke of. I will be honest with you and admit that I am not worthy of her. There are things about my life that I cannot tell you, and I have known many women in my time; but if your daughter were my wife, you have my solemn vow that I would make her a true and faithful husband."
Mason Chatsworth was thoughtful for a moment. While Lucas Carrington was not of the nobility, he was a gentleman and loyal to England; and he was apparently well fixed, judging by the prosperous appearance of Rosemont. Season would never want for anything.
"Your offer is an honorable one, my boy, but I promised Season I would never force her to marry against her will. I intend to keep that promise."
"What would be your objection, sir, if I could convince your daughter to accept me as her husband?"
The duke was thoughtful. If Lucas were to marry Season, he would give her child a name, and he realized that from a woman's point of view Lucas Carrington would be considered a handsome devil. No. He could find no objection other than the fact that Lucas had no title. H
owever, here in the Colonies such things didn't seem nearly as important as they were in England.
The duke ran his finger around the rim of his glass. "If you could convince my daughter of your good intentions…and if she were to give her consent, I can think of no valid objection. I warn you, she has always said no to her suitors in the past, and most probably she will give you the same answer. You are not to pressure her. If she says no, you are to consider the matter dropped."
Lucas stood up and filled both their glasses. He then raised his in a toast. "To my success with your daughter, Your Grace."
The room suddenly became silent. Each man was thinking about the girl who lay upstairs. Both men loved her, each in his own way.
Season walked to her bedroom window and looked down on the forest. Her heart somehow felt heavy at the thought of leaving Rosemont. She had not been unhappy here. Rebecca was the only friend she had ever had, and she liked Lucas, and was grateful to him for his kindness to her.
She walked over to the side table and sat down. Picking up the fork, she tasted the chicken Molly had brought her earlier. She remembered the time aboard the Andromeda when The Raven had forced her to eat turkey. How long ago that seemed now.
She wondered what The Raven would say if he knew she was carrying his child. If he would come for her, she knew she would not hesitate to go with him.
Sighing heavily, she stood up and walked over to the mirror. Her stomach was still flat and her waist was still trim. Raising her face upward, she closed her eyes. What would Lucas Carrington think of her if he knew her guilty secret? For some reason, that bothered her more than anything else at the moment.
Season thought back to her first meeting with Lucas. At that time she had thought he was the answer to every young girl's dream. Now that she had come to know him, she hadn't changed her mind.
She opened the lid of the trunk which contained some of her personal belongings and removed something wrapped in a silk scarf. Unfolding the scarf, she stared down at the wooden model of the Andromeda that Briggs had given her. Tears fell on the tiny ship as Season cursed herself for caring about a man who had forgotten her very existence. She knew she would always be reminded of The Raven by the child she was carrying within her body.
21
The Duke of Chats worth had been at Rosemont Plantation for three weeks. He knew Lucas would soon ask his daughter to marry him, and he found himself hoping Season would accept. The more he came to know Lucas, the more he respected him. He knew Season could do far worse than becoming the mistress of Rosemont. In the past weeks he had spent a great deal of time with his daughter, and each day she seemed to grow stronger. There was now color in her cheeks, she laughed more often, and she no longer kept to her room. Season enjoyed sitting on the veranda and listening to the slaves singing their age-old song as they returned from the fields.
The forest that surrounded Rosemont was awash with brilliant autumn colors, and here in this beautiful Virginia valley she almost felt at peace with herself.
Robert Wolf was supposed to return anytime now, for Rebecca was to be wed in two more days. Season had watched her friend make plans for the wedding, and she felt a bit envious of Rebecca's happiness.
Lately Season would find Lucas staring at her, and she wondered if he suspected that she was hiding a guilty secret. That morning Lucas and her father had ridden into the fields because her father had wanted to see how cotton was picked. Now Season found herself watching the road for their return. She knew she was not well enough to travel yet, but sometime that day she intended to speak to her father about leaving for England.
Hearing a rider gallop up the driveway, Season glanced over to see Lucas dismount. He slapped his horse on the rump and sent the animal running toward the stables. When he saw Season sitting on the veranda, he smiled and waved.
Season watched him approach. He wore buff-colored trousers tucked into brown riding boots, and his frocked jacket was thrown carelessly across his shoulders. She noted that his black hair glistened in the bright sunlight.
Lucas' boots made a crunching sound as they struck the pebble-strewn walk, and when he climbed the steps to the veranda, Season noticed he was watching her closely.
"It's good to see you up and about, Season. It has always been a belief of mine that fresh air is a great healer," he said, sitting on the chair across from Season and stretching his long legs out in front of him.
"I was told that you went riding with my father," she said, for want of something better to say. "Why did he not return with you?"
"Your father became so engrossed in watching the fall planting, he stayed behind with my overseer, Walls, to watch. He should be along directly."
"I think I will go in now," Season said, starting to rise, but Lucas gripped her shoulder, forestalling her movement.
"Stay with me for just awhile longer, Season. I have been wanting to speak to you for over three weeks, but could never find the right time."
She leaned back in the chair but didn't relax because she was wondering what he could possibly want to talk to her about.
"I understand you are feeling stronger, Season. I can see there is more color in your cheeks."
"Yes. I am well enough to travel now."
"Has your father mentioned the conversation he and I had about you?"
"No," she answered, wondering if her father had told Lucas about the baby she was carrying. For some strange reason Lucas seemed nervous and she wondered what was on his mind.
"Lately, I have come to believe I need a wife. When Rebecca marries Robert, Rosemont will be without a mistress."
Season felt as if a fist had just tightened on her heart. For some unknown reason, she didn't want to think about Lucas being married. Perhaps he was telling her that he wished her to depart Rosemont before he brought a new wife home.
"As I just told you, I am now well enough to travel. In fact, I was just thinking I would talk to my father today about leaving for England. I can understand why you wouldn't want a guest in your home if you are intending to bring a new bride to Rosemont."
Lucas sighed in exasperation, knowing Season had missed his point. "What I am trying to tell you, Season, is that when Rebecca leaves, I will be completely without female companionship."
"Lucas, I think I should advise you that when you propose to Mistress Bartlett, you must not make it sound as if she will be replacing your sister. Surely you can be more romantic than that. A woman likes to hear pretty words from her intended husband."
Lucas swore under his breath. He was making a muddle of his proposal, but dammit, he had never asked a woman to marry him before. How was he to know the right approach to a woman's heart?
"Season, I don't want a wife to replace Rebecca, and I don't want to marry Mariana Bartlett. My God, don't you recognize a marriage proposal when you hear one?"
Season froze. "Surely you are not proposing to…me! No, that would be quite impossible."
Lucas studied her face lazily. "I realize you are from English gentry and I am merely a planter from Virginia, but I believe you and I could get along quite well together."
Season's face paled. "Did my father put you up to this, Lucas? How much did he offer to pay you if you would make a respectable woman of me?"
"Asking you to be my wife was entirely my idea, although I did ask your father's permission before I spoke to you. You don't know me very well, Season, if you think money could induce me to marry a woman I did not choose."
Season suddenly felt sick inside. Lucas knew about the baby, and he was offering her the protection of his name. He didn't love her; he pitied her. "You go too far, Lucas. How dare you ask such a thing of me! Did you really think I would say yes to such a preposterous notion?"
"I find I like the idea of you being my wife. Does marrying me sound preposterous to you?"
"Indeed it does," she said, her green eyes flashing. "I never took you for a fool until now, Lucas. I never thought your kindness toward me would one day turn to insu
lt."
"Can I ask you to explain that statement?" he asked, as his golden eyes took on a guarded look.
"I know you are only feeling pity for me. Well, spare me your pity. I will not marry you or any other man just to give my baby a name. I will have no man for my husband. At the moment I have very little regard for your gender. You are all selfish and think only of your own needs. I can very well do without all of you."
"Did he hurt you so badly?" Lucas asked softly.
Season didn't pretend to misunderstand, and she hated the fact that tears gathered in her eyes. "The Raven killed my heart!" she cried.
Lucas went down on his knees and gathered Season into his arms. While he gently stroked her hair, she cried out her misery. Lucas waited until her tears were spent before he spoke. "If you allow me, Season, I will prove to you that not all men are selfish. Say you will marry me, and I will strive to replace your faith in life as well as men."
A shudder shook Season's slight body. How easy it would be to say yes to Lucas. She knew she had some deep unexplored feeling for this man. Suddenly she decided she had to tell him the truth about herself. Perhaps then he would turn away in disgust and withdraw his marriage proposal.
Gathering up all her courage, Season looked into Lucas' soft golden eyes. Her own eyes were stinging, and at the moment it seemed that her throat had closed. Moving away from him, she realized the hardest thing she would ever have to do would be to be truthful with him about The Raven.
"Lucas, I am going to be honest with you, no matter how much it hurts. I will understand if you never want to see me again after I tell you about myself. I was not ravished by The Raven as you might think. I gave myself to him. I don't expect you to understand this, but I love him. Forget about me, for I am not worthy of you. Go to Mariana, who is fresh, and clean, and offer her your name. You deserve much better than I. With Mariana you would have a wife who loves you, who can give you your own children. With me, you would have a woman who loves the father of the child she is carrying."
Velvet Chains (Historical Romance) Page 27
