Sandra Owens

by The Letter

  “I said—”

  “Yes. Yes, I heard you. A duchess and a marchioness are to call on Thursday?”

  The blasted man shrugged as if he hadn’t just told her to expect the equivalent of a visit from the queen. Well, a duchess and a marchioness put together surely came close to equaling a member of the royal family.

  “Truly, Michael, when you do a thing, you do it to the nines.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be a compliment,” she muttered.

  He calmly sipped his tea, his ink-blue eyes focused on her. She could lose herself in those eyes, but she must squash these feelings that were building inside her. He would have other Lady Hartwell’s, and as she’d recently told him, it was none of her concern.

  “Why does their visit distress you?”

  “It isn’t that I’m not happy about it. I would like to have some female friends. It’s only because it has been so long since I have been in society. I’m nervous. What if I say something wrong? My God, a duchess and a marchioness? Couldn’t you have found a baroness or viscountess for me to practice on first?”

  “I suppose I could go out and find a baroness and drag her home if you wish.”

  If she were close enough, she would punch him. “I’m serious. The thought of entertaining a marchioness, much less a duchess makes my heart pound. And not in a good way, mind you.”

  “If that is how you feel, I will cancel their visit. But I know these two ladies and they are nicer than any baroness I’ve yet to meet. If it helps, I also know neither one was brought up in polite society. You were, so you are the one who has the edge. Think about that, Diana.”

  That caught her interest. “Truly?”

  “Yes. Although Her Grace is the daughter of a duke, she had never been to London until Aubrey married her. There is a story there, I think. It is the same for Derebourne’s marchioness. Her first time coming to Town was after their marriage. I know her better than the duchess, but I think you will like them both.”

  That knowledge did help. But what was it all for? She wasn’t a young miss looking for a husband. Attending a ton event was going to be a dreadful ordeal. The minute she walked into a ballroom, it would probably fall silent as everyone stared at her while whispering behind their hands of the scandal. She didn’t think she could bear it. “Why am I doing this? There is no reason for it. I would be happy with a cottage and enough money to take care of Jamie.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, then stood and went to the drawing room door, closed and locked it. Coming to the sofa, he sat next to her and took her hand. “I’ve wanted to ask you a question for a while now, but I keep hesitating. I’m not sure why other than I’m afraid the answer won’t be the one I want. It’s even possible you don’t know, but I believe you do.”

  He was going to ask about Jamie. What was she going to tell him? Any fear he would mistreat their son had vanished, but what if he wanted to take Jamie from her? No, she trusted him not to hurt her in that way. It was time to tell him the truth. He deserved to know.

  She looked at their joined hands, and then lifted her gaze to his and saw hope in his eyes. “You want to know if Jamie is your son.”

  “Yes, that is the question I’ve tried to ask you a thousand times.”

  “All right. Do you believe Leo told the truth about that night, that he didn’t touch me? I mean, I know he did after hearing your account, but I assume he meant he didn’t…I don’t know how to say it.” Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks just thinking of what everyone saw Leo doing to her. Would the thought of it ever stop making her feel ill?

  His hand tightened on hers. “No, I don’t think he raped you. Remember, his mother was there. I think they set the stage, she knocked on my door and then hid. After I entered the room, she then went and knocked on your parents’ door. I do not believe Leo had time to do any more than what I saw. But you were with him from then on. If you think Jamie is mine, how can you be sure?”

  She took a deep breath and then let it out. “Because the marriage was never consummated.”

  His eyes widened. “Never?”

  “He tried once, but he couldn’t…he couldn’t make it happen. He blamed me, of course. Said it wasn’t surprising he couldn’t do it with Michael’s whore. He never tried again. Believe me, I was glad to be ignored by him in that way. I thanked God every day for it.”

  “Sweet Jesus, Diana, I’m sorry.”

  What did he mean? “You’re sorry the marriage wasn’t consummated?”

  He reared back. “Good God, no. For that I’m grateful. I’m sorry for what you lived through, and that I let it happen. How can you ever forgive—”

  She put her finger against his lips. “You promised to stop saying you’re sorry. We can’t undo the past, Michael, it is what it is. As for what comes now, I would like for us to be friends. Together, we can give our son a bright future.” Knowing what she must say next brought a lump to her throat. “Jamie can never know you are his father. I hate Leo the most for that, and because he cheated our son out of his rightful inheritance.”

  His eyes filled with tears, and he abruptly stood and walked to the window. A strangled sound came from him, and then his shoulders slumped and began to shake. Blinking against her own tears, she walked up behind him and put a hand on his back.

  “Michael?”

  He stilled. “Please, I need some time alone.”

  She didn’t want to leave. She was the only one who could understand his pain and she wanted to give him comfort. It hurt that he wanted her gone, but she did as he asked and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Diana returned to her room and had her own good cry.

  ****

  Only through great strength of will did Michael hold himself still until he heard the door close behind Diana. The moment he was alone, he sank to the floor and buried his head between his knees. He could never tell Jamie? There wasn’t a boy in all of England he would be more proud to call son. And she had just said he couldn’t. She was right. He knew it. God, he did, but it hurt so bloody bad.

  He pressed the back of his head hard against the windowsill wishing the pain would stop his tears, but it did no good. Sobs of regret escaped for what each of them had lost. He had lost the woman he loved, the right to call Jamie his son, and she had lost more than he could ever comprehend. But the worst, that the boy he would die for would never know his true father was more than Michael could bear. He had wanted to know Jamie was indeed his, had prayed for it. But did it matter if he was to never hear his son call him Papa?

  The sharp edge of the sill digging into his skull did not keep him from crying like a newborn babe. How long the tears flowed he didn’t know, but finally drained, he took a deep breath. Standing, he strode out of the drawing room, out of his townhouse, and blindly walked the streets of London, ending up at Tattersall’s. As it was Monday, the auction was in progress when he entered. This was something he could do for his son, something a father would do. Diana should have her own horse, also.

  Leading the newly purchased mare and pony into his stable, he called to his head groom. “Tommy, let’s get these girls pretty.” An hour later, Michael stepped back and admired the sleek Arabian and the Welsh pony. Bathed, dried, and brushed, the two were now busy eating.

  Tommy undoubtedly wondered why the master had rolled up his sleeves and put his arms in soapy water past his elbows. Michael could have explained that he needed to do something, anything to keep his mind from the things that caused a heart to ache. But one could not say such to a servant, so he had worked alongside his groom, speaking only on the fine points of the new acquisitions.

  He pulled his soaked shirt away from his body. “When they finish, put them in a stall next to each other. I need to go and change, but I’ll return later with Lady Brantley and her son.” He grabbed his coat and waistcoat and walked away, rubbing his hand over his chest. Would it hurt like this every time he had to say her son? Jamie was his, to
o, but he would never be able to use the word our when speaking of him. But he had every intention of stepping into the role of father even if he couldn’t be called such. It was time to begin the courtship of his future wife. He had done it once and won her heart. He could do it again.

  Because of his dishabille, he entered through the kitchen, nodded to his gaping cook and took the back stairs, making it to his room unseen. Once he was presentable again, he sent Hansen to find Fanny.

  “Have her tell her mistress that I would like her to join Jamie and me. We will wait for her downstairs.”

  A father had the right to spring his son from the schoolroom, didn’t he? He stood in the doorway for a moment soaking in the sight of Jamie. Knowing that it was true, Sweet Jesus, how was he to act now? There was only one answer, the same as he had been.

  “My lord?”

  Michael entered the room. “Mr. Denton, my pardon, but I’ve come for young Jamie.” Alarm crossed the boy’s face and Michael rushed to reassure him. “I’ve a surprise for you.”

  Jamie gave him a doubtful look. “For me?”

  “I am sure that is what I just said.” He longed to pick the lad up and hold him tight. Instead, he put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Do you not believe me?”

  “I have never had a surprise. Will I like it?”

  Never? Well, that was going to change. When he was a boy, his mother frequently surprised him with a new toy, a day spent with her and no lessons, a special treat, sometimes a picnic.

  “I daresay, you will like it above all things.” As he had done so often with Diana, he held out his hand. “Come with me if you want to find out what it is.”

  Jamie jumped up and slid his little boy hand into Michael’s. As they walked down the hallway, a fierce love for this child settled deep in his heart. Though cheated out of Jamie’s first ten years, nothing and no one would take away his son again.

  “Where are we going?” Jamie asked.

  “You will find out soon enough. We must wait here for your mother.”

  “Is she getting a prize, too?”

  “Do you think she should?” Was it normal for a father to be this amused by his son?

  “Yes, because it will make Mama happy.”

  He hoped so.

  “What will make me happy?”

  Michael almost replied that he could.

  “I am getting a prize, Mama!”

  She looked at Michael, a question in her eyes. “Actually, my lady, I told him he was getting a surprise, and the clever lad has found a better word.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “Take our son’s other hand and come with me.”

  Walking through the mews, their child between them, Michael looked over Jamie’s head and smiled at Diana. Did she feel the rightness of it, too? God, he prayed she did. Let her desire to have him as a husband, lover, and a father prove to be greater than her fears. Let her find a way to trust him again with her heart.

  Arriving at the stables, he led them first to the stall holding the pony. He lifted Jamie so he could see over the gate. “You will have to think of a name for her,” Michael told his son.

  Jamie looked at Michael in wonder. “Is she mine?”

  “She is all yours, which means she is your responsibility. You must learn how to take care of her.”

  “Oh, I will, I promise.” Then Michael was given a fierce hug. “I think I will call her Surprise.”

  “A good name, but perhaps even better would be Prize.”

  Jamie clapped his hands. “Yes, Prize. That is a grand name. May I go inside and touch her?”

  Michael put him down, reached into his pocket and removed a few pieces of carrots. “Tommy will go in with you and show you how to give her these.”

  “I have a surprise for you, too.” Michael took Diana’s hand and led her to the next stall.

  He watched her reaction to seeing the mare and it was not what he had hoped for. With no expression on her face, she stared at the horse for what seemed a long time.

  “Does she not please you? If not, I will find you another one.”

  The mare came to the gate and stuck her muzzle in Diana’s hair and snuffled. At last, a smile, albeit a small one. She reached up and scratched the mare’s nose. “She is beautiful.”

  “Yet, you don’t seem pleased.”

  She turned and faced him. “I don’t want to get attached to her and then have to give her up.”

  “Why would you have to give her up? She is yours to keep for as long as you want.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Jamie and I can’t stay with you forever, and I don’t know where we will be next. I cannot have the responsibility of a horse.”

  She and Jamie were going nowhere. “We will worry about that when the time comes. I remember how much you loved to ride. For now, consider her yours to enjoy.” He took a guess. “You haven’t had much opportunity to do so since your marriage, have you?”

  “No.” She looked at the Arabian with longing. “I haven’t owned a horse since I lived in my father’s home.”

  “Why not?”

  The hard look, there whenever she spoke of her husband, came into her eyes. “I asked once for a horse and was told I wasn’t worth spending the money on. I said I would settle for a nag, but apparently was not even worth the price of that.”

  Each time she gave him another look into her life with his cousin, he wanted to kill someone, namely Leo. He lifted his hand to her face and trailed his knuckles over a cheek. “If you asked it of me, I would spend my entire fortune buying all the horses in the world for you. Ask me for anything, Diana, and I will find a way to give it to you.”

  Her look was troubled. “What do you want from me, Michael?”

  With a quick glance over his shoulder, he made sure they were alone. “For now, just this.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her. He had wanted to taste her again for days. For too many nights since Wyburne, he laid awake thinking of loving her, had closed his eyes, wrapped his hand around his erection and relived being with her. It wasn’t the same.

  Reckless stuck his head over his stall door and nickered. Michael smiled against Diana’s lips. Not giving her time to scold him for taking liberties in a stable where anyone might have seen, he took her hand. “Come and meet my beast.” He stood back and watched her approach his horse.

  “Aren’t you a handsome one.” She scratched behind his ear and Reckless curled his lip in obvious ecstasy.

  “Careful, you tell him such and it will go to his head. He will start to think he is too fine to carry the likes of me, and then he’ll take himself off and audition for the starring role in the equestrian ballet at Astley’s Amphitheatre.”

  It was the amused smile on her face as she looked over her shoulder at him that made him wish he had more clever things to say. But his mind had gone blank. He could think of nothing but kissing her again.

  She gave Reckless one last rub, then moved back to the mare. “She truly is lovely.”

  The Arabian was beautiful, a dappled gray with a black mane, tail, and legs. It was the intelligent look in her eyes he liked most. “Have you thought of a name for her?”

  “I have. She is Alpha.”

  That she would think of new beginnings gave him hope. “I like it.”

  She leaned close to the mare and whispered, but he could hear her words. “Your name is Alpha, and you are mine.”

  He wasn’t sure why, but that she claimed the horse as hers seemed important, somehow a sign she would accept a future that included him. He really wanted to kiss her. Instead, he slipped her a piece of carrot.

  Alpha delicately mouthed the treat from her palm. “I will always take good care of you and bring you carrots.” The horse snuffled her hand looking for more and Diana laughed. “You are a greedy thing, aren’t you?”

  “She apparently has a high opinion of herself and thinks it is her due. In all likelihood, she will elope with Reckless and we will have to buy tickets to Astley’s just to set eyes on
them. Sadly, they will become too high in the instep to acknowledge our presence. We can tell those seated around us that we knew them when they were merely two useless nags belonging to an old earl and a beautiful woman.”

  Her eyes, those soft dark eyes, turned to him. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  The devil.

  He kissed her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You may go, Fanny.”

  Alone, Diana walked to the mirror and stared at the woman she hadn’t seen in over a decade. The high-waisted, pale blue day dress with a band of embroidered pink roses around the hem was beautiful. She fingered the matching pink ribbon tied in a bow under her bosom, its ends floating down to her waist.

  I am becoming me again.

  She brushed a hand over the muslin, and then lifted the skirt for another look at the new half boots and fine white stockings. It took more than a new gown and artfully styled hair to instill a sense of worth, she knew that, but, dear God, it helped.

  How Michael had managed to get Mademoiselle Durand to deliver two gowns and a riding habit in such a short time was beyond her. She didn’t doubt there was a fair sum of money involved, and though she was uncomfortable accepting all he had done for her and Jamie, she was thankful.

  This morning, he had invited her to ride with him. She’d mounted her new horse, wearing her new habit, with no reason to be ashamed when she met the duke, the marquess, and his ward, Harry.

  She had immediately liked the marquess. Derebourne was a pleasant man with a humorous side. His ease in goading the Duke of Aubrey had been impressive. As for the duke, there was a dark element to him, and she wondered if anyone else saw. What kind of woman could tame a man like him? She would soon find out.

  She glanced at the clock. A quarter past four. The ladies would arrive any minute. She checked one last time that her hair was in place and then went to the drawing room to wait.

  Smedley, extraordinarily stiff, appeared at the door. “My lady, Her Grace, the Duchess of Aubrey, and the Marchioness of Derebourne.” He bowed so low Diana feared he might topple over. Two women entered, amusement sparkling in their eyes. Walking in behind them, Michael came to her side.