Dancing With A Devil

by Julie Johnstone

  “Julian is burning up.”

  “Mon dieu!” Bridgette pushed past Trent and his anxiety escalated as they raced down the hall. When he entered the room, she was already shaking the child. “Julian!” She babbled some words in French while patting the boy’s cheek. He moaned and slowly opened his eyes. First just a bit, and then he brought his tiny fists to his eyes, rubbed them and opened them all the way.

  Trent met the child’s frightened green gaze and all the air in his lungs expelled in a rush of astonishment. The hairs on his neck stood on end as Julian blinked. It was like peering into a looking glass at a younger version of himself.

  The boy cocked his head, causing a lock of golden hair to fall over his right eye. Immediately, he shoved the hair back. That gesture. That flick of his hand, all wrist and arrogance. Trent’s heart seized in his chest, then exploded into a vicious beat. He scrambled onto his knees by Julian’s bedside. On his son’s level, staring into his eyes, the anger that had festered since the day he realized who and what Gwyneth was dissolved. He reached a hand out and Julian glanced at it, then looked to Bridgette for guidance of what he should do. Bridgette gave his son an almost imperceptible nod.

  Trent held his breath until the moment the soft, small hand came to his and he wrapped his long fingers around the tiny, chubby ones. He brought his face close to his son, his vision blurring with tears. “Julian,” he croaked. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Qui,” Julian answered in a tiny, unsure voice. “Papa.”

  “Yes,” Trent agreed, warm tears trickling down his cheeks. “I’m your papa and you’ve come home.” He gently pulled the child to him and hugged him to his chest. Julian wiggled in his arms until Trent reluctantly released him.

  Bridgette set her hand on Trent’s shoulder. “He’ll accept you quickly. Children are like that.”

  Trent nodded, and smiled as Julian picked up his hand and played with the crest ring on his finger.

  “Mine,” the child said petulantly.

  Trent ruffled his son’s hair. “Someday,” he answered as footsteps sounded behind him and the physician followed Pickering into the room.

  Trent stood and turned to greet the physician. “Otts. This is my son. I trust you’ll take excellent care of him.”

  The physician gaped at Trent for a moment before recovering his composure. “Of course, Lord Davenport.”

  Stepping aside, Trent motioned him toward Julian, but Julian held his chubby hand out to Trent. “Papa. Stay.”

  Trent’s heart constricted as he took his son’s hand and locked gazes with Bridgette. She beamed at him. As the physician examined Julian, the child played with Trent’s ring some more, twisting it on his finger. Trent suspected Julian had wanted him to stay by his side more to fiddle with his ring than for his sake, but it didn’t matter. He was reluctant to part from the boy. It was astonishing to think he had a son. More shocking than that was the instantaneous intensity of his feelings for Julian. He wanted to protect him from any harm anyone would ever intend him. The first order of business before Julian was introduced to Society would be to make up a story he could tell about Gwyneth. People would talk, of that Trent was certain.

  As the physician examined Julian, Trent couldn’t help but worry about Audrey. He was certain she’d been on the verge of accepting his proposal, but what would she do now that he had a son? Julian was his rightful heir, no matter whether he and Audrey had a son or not. Could she accept that? Fear twisted his gut. He didn’t want to lose her, but he wasn’t sure there was going to be a way to entice her to stay.

  Unless… He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then slowly opened them. Could he offer Audrey his love and trust? Tiny fingers twisted his crest ring as the question rang in his mind. Trusting and loving a child was simple. But a woman?

  “My exam is complete,” the physician announced.

  Trent nodded and motioned toward the hall. “Let’s speak out of the room. Bridgette, I’ll inform you of what Dr. Otts says.”

  Bridgette nodded and moved to sit by Julian.

  Once in the hall, Trent’s concern exploded. “Well?”

  “You boy’s lungs sound excellent.”

  “I heard a rattle,” Trent countered.

  “It’s nothing serious.”

  “What of his fever?”

  “Children run warmer than adults, which often worries parents.” Otts clapped Trent on the shoulder. “I wasn’t aware you were married.”

  “I was. My wife died,” Trent said evenly, not wishing to discuss the situation before he knew exactly what he wanted to say. “I trust you can keep my personal life to yourself.”

  Otts nodded his head. “Of course, my lord.”

  “Excellent. Is there anything you recommend I do for Julian to help speed his recovery?”

  “Cool cloths to help with the fever and then fresh air once it breaks.”

  “I’ll do it personally,” Trent replied. He’d been absent for too much of Julian’s young life already. He wasn’t about to miss any more.

  Much later in the evening Trent held his sleeping, less feverish, son in his arms. He hadn’t felt this relaxed and happy in a very long time. The moment was almost perfect. He wanted to share his happiness with Audrey, and for once, the idea of opening up to her didn’t set him on edge.

  After five days of catering to her sick aunt and four days since she had last seen Trent at the Lionhursts’ home, the moment the physician’s carriage pulled into the drive of her home she scrambled to her feet and flew out of her study, anxious for Dr. Otts to pronounce her aunt in good health. If Aunt Hillie was truly better as she seemed to be, maybe Audrey could somehow see Trent today. She raced down the hall, ignoring the look of astonishment Mr. Barrett gave her when she soared past him and to the door. Flinging open the door, she rushed down the steps and halted as the carriage door slowly opened and doctor Otts descended followed by a young gentleman who resembled the physician. The man had to be Dr. Otts’s son. He was in training to practice with his father, so it made sense.

  “My goodness, Lady Audrey, has your aunt taken a turn for the worse?” doctor Otts asked.

  “No.” Audrey blushed.

  The physician chuckled. “Tired of being cooped up in your home and playing nursemaid, are you?”

  Audrey nodded. “I should be ashamed to admit it, but I daresay I’m not. She’s a rather demanding sick person.”

  Otts patted her arm, as he used to do every time he came to attend to her mother on the many frequent occasions she took to her sick bed. “All persons who are used to being physically active are terrible sick patients.”

  “Especially children,” the man behind Dr. Otts said, stepping forward.

  Otts inclined his head to the gentleman. “This is my eldest son, Charles. I’ve told you about him. You met him years ago when he accompanied me once to care for your mother, though I would not think you would remember that. Do you mind if he is here today?”

  “Not at all.” Audrey met Charles’s friendly gaze. “Your father tells me you want to be a physician.”

  “I did.”

  “Did?”

  Charles grinned. “After treating Lord Davenport’s active son this morning, I’m not so sure.”

  “Charles!” Doctor Otts snapped before looking warily at her.

  “I was only making a joke,” Charles sputtered.

  “It’s not that,” Doctor Otts said, glaring at his son. “Lady Audrey, I must beg a personal favor of you.”

  She forced herself to nod, though she suddenly felt violently ill.

  Doctor Otts’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Please forget what you just heard. Lord Davenport would be highly agitated with me for my son’s slip regarding Davenport’s personal affairs, and I fear he would terminate my services with him as well as his entirely family if news of his son gets out before he wishes it to.”

  Audrey’s heart pounded dreadfully. It took all her inner reserves to resist pressing her hand to it. “I underst
and.” Her words shook with the raw emotion coursing through her. A son? Her mind reeled and a flush swept across her skin as she recalled the note on her desk she’d received from Trent this morning. How foolish she was. She bit hard on her lip to stop any trembling. He’d asked to call on her today. The note was the first he had sent since canceling their picnic four days ago, and though the note had seemed oddly stilted for him, she’d secretly hoped it was because he was struggling to accept that he loved her.

  He didn’t love her. He was still harboring secrets from her. Enormous secrets―like a son. Was this his child from his first wife or a child from a mistress? Either way, it didn’t matter. The man would never trust her enough to love her. She wanted to curl into a ball and weep all her sorrows. Instead, she drew herself to her full height. There was not time to break down and weep. Her aunt waited upstairs to be pronounced well, and Lord Thortonberry also planned to call today.

  “Follow me.” She couldn’t seem to speak above a strangled whisper. Motioning to the stairs, she turned without bothering to ensure they did as she asked. As she ascended, the men’s footsteps tapped on each step behind her, the noise almost drowned out by the roar in her ears. Lord Thortonberry would be here soon, and she suspected it was to formally ask for her hand in marriage. Her gut clenched at the thought of saying yes, but what choice did she have? Could she be so selfish as to turn Lord Thortonberry away and cast her and her aunt’s future into shadowy doubt?

  Within moments, she stood at her aunt’s bedside as Dr. Otts examined her. The physician and his son spoke in quiet whispers as her aunt chattered cheerfully about all the things she was going to do when she was able to leave her sickbed. Audrey forced a smile to her lips and kept it there, though her mouth trembled with the effort. Hopefully no one noticed. After a time, Dr. Otts put his instruments away and closed his case.

  “My lady,” he said as he looked down at Aunt Hillie, “you seem recovered quite nicely. You may get out of bed today, but take things slowly.”

  Aunt Hillie beamed. “I will. But being in bed like this has made me realize I’ve allowed myself to get far too soft in my ageing years. I think I’ll start walking for exercise every day.”

  A crease appeared between Dr. Otts’s eyebrows. “Exercise is advisable, but nothing strenuous. Remember what I told you yesterday.”

  “Hush,” her aunt snapped.

  Suspicious, Audrey carefully observed her aunt. Her lips were pressed hard together. Audrey didn’t bother asking her aunt what the doctor had told her yesterday. She could tell by the stubborn set of her aunt’s chin the woman clearly didn’t want Audrey to know. Audrey reached down and straightened her aunt’s covers. “Auntie, I’m so glad you’re all better. I’ll just see the doctor out and return shortly to help you get up and moving.”

  “Thank you, dear,” her aunt responded without meeting Audrey’s gaze.

  Audrey frowned. Something was definitely amiss. Once she was downstairs with the doctor, she determined to try to get an answer from him. “Tell me what’s wrong with my aunt.”

  The physician furrowed his brow. “I’m afraid I cannot do that without your aunt’s permission.”

  “She’ll never give it, and you know it. But if she dies because of some condition that she has that I should know about, it will be on your conscience.” She gave him a stern look.

  Doctor Otts glanced at his son. “This is the sort of dilemma you’ll face, my boy. The confidentiality you’ve promised your patient weighs against their life being at risk if you don’t tell anyone. What would you do?”

  “I’d tell her,” Charles said immediately.

  Audrey smiled gratefully.

  “We’re in agreement,” the physician said. “Lady Audrey, it’s her heart. It’s beating irregularly.”

  Audrey gulped in a breath. “Is she going to die?”

  “Not today, my dear. But the irregular beat is a concern. I simply told her to try not to put herself under any undue stress. I imagine your aunt should be around for years if she will simply endeavor to live a peaceful life.”

  A peaceful life. Audrey’s stomach rolled with nauseating despair. Her future had just been decided for her. Her aunt needed peace, not turmoil and uncertainly. A marriage to Lord Thortonberry would afford her the ability to give Aunt Hillie the stability she required.

  After seeing the physician and his son out, Audrey didn’t go up to her aunt. Instead, she made her way to her study and sat staring out the window, the thoughts in her head so loud she wanted to scream. She was helpless to stop them. A son of Trent’s she could accept. That was not it at all. It was the lack of trust. The lies. Or withholding of the truth, which was the same as lying. Pressing her hands to her ears, she squeezed her eyes shut but her thoughts bombarded her like sharp drops of rain. Fast. Cold. Stinging. Was the child from a mistress? Or his former wife?

  She swiveled back toward the desk and pressed her cheek to the cool wood. She’d had such hopes and dreams of a marriage filled with love and that was gone. She had to accept and face the harsh reality of life. Her throat tightened and tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she swallowed the sob that rose in her throat. She could fight back the tears, but she couldn’t stop the gnawing pain in her belly or the loss making her heart feel as if someone squeezed it.

  “Trent,” she whispered before allowing her body to slump with despair. She sat there, listening to the groans of the house and watching the sun grow brighter as the hours slipped by.

  Above her, the hardwood floors creaked. Was her aunt out of bed? Did she need something? Audrey shoved herself up. How utterly selfish she was being. She had not even spared a thought for her sick aunt’s needs.

  As she stood to see to her aunt, a rap sounded on her door. Trying to quickly tidy herself she called, “Enter.”

  Mr. Barrett entered the room with a grin on his face that faltered when he looked at her. “My lady, are you unwell?”

  “No, simply tired.” She smiled, sure he’d been grinning because he’d finally remembered to knock before entering a room. If Lord Thortonberry would allow it, she wanted to take Mr. Barrett with her when she was married. “Did you need me?”

  “Lord Thortonberry has arrived.”

  “Show him to the library. I’ll be there in a moment.” To her dismay, her voice broke slightly. Egads, this would not do. She was not a woman without strength. She squared her shoulders and stood before Mr. Barrett had time to respond. “Never mind.” She glided past her him. “I’ll retrieve Lord Thortonberry myself.”

  She trod down the hall, determined to quit acting as if a marriage to Lord Thortonberry was a death sentence. It would be a good match, and she had to accept it. Entering the foyer, she held out her hands.

  His eyebrows rose in surprise, but he took one of her hands. In the other, she noted he held a black velvet bag. Her stomach tightened as she considered whether a betrothal ring was in the bag.

  He gently squeezed her hand. “Lady Audrey, you look exquisite.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “Why don’t we speak in the parlor where we can be private?”

  He started to nod, then stilled as his brow furrowed and his gaze settled somewhere behind her. “My lady. It’s wonderful to see you out of bed and better.”

  Audrey’s jaw dropped open as she swirled around and faced her aunt. “Aunt Hillie!” she admonished as she rushed to her aunt’s side and grabbed her elbow. “However did you manage to get out of your bed and dress yourself?” Audrey eyed the seven feathers in her aunt’s hair. “You even did you hair,” she said, a bit bemused.

  “I’m not so old and feeble that I can’t take care of myself, no matter what that traitor physician told you.” Her aunt’s voice had dropped low.

  Audrey gazed into her aunt’s narrowed eyes. “Were you eavesdropping?” Audrey whispered.

  Her aunt tugged her arm out of Audrey’s grasp. “Most certainly.” She brushed past Audrey and strode toward Lord Thortonberry. “Shall we all move to the parlor?
”

  “No, Auntie.” Audrey answered for Lord Thortonberry, whose irritated face told her the last thing he desired was her aunt in there with them. She marched up to her aunt. “This is a private affair between Lord Thortonberry and me.”

  “I’m still your chaperone, my girl.”

  “Indeed,” Audrey snapped, irritated that her aunt was trying to interfere when she had to understand there was no choice. “You may chaperone from outside the door.” She grabbed Lord Thortonberry by the arm, tugged him toward the parlor and firmly shut the door on her aunt’s protest.

  Even with the door closed, her aunt’s murmuring infiltrated the silence. “Don’t be foolish,” Aunt Hillie whispered from the other side of the door. “Don’t throw your life away for me, child.”

  Turning away from the door and toward Lord Thortonberry, she pressed her trembling hands to her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

  He took her gently by the elbow and led her to the settee. “It quite amused me to see you stand up to your aunt that way. I take it she doesn't think we will make a good match.”

  “No she doesn’t,” Audrey blurted, not wishing to lie to him. If she was going to do this, he needed to understand everything.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think,” she said in a strangled whisper, “that you’re getting a terrible bargain if you’re here for what I think you are.”

  “I’m here to ask you to marry me, and if you say yes, I’ll be the luckiest man in the world.”

  Heaven help her, all she could think was that she only wanted to hear these words from Trent. As wonderfully kind and attentive as Lord Thortonberry had been and as much as she understood that she should say yes, she wasn’t sure she could make herself form the words. “Lord Thortonberry―”

  “Call me Liam,” he interrupted. “I have loved you since you were fifteen.”

  “What?” she gasped.

  He nodded. “It’s true. I was going to confess all to you years ago at my father’s annual summer picnic, but when I went to find you at the stables with my brother. You were locked in Oscar’s embrace and kissing him.” Liam’s face twisted savagely. “I’d dreamed of hearing my name on your lips, but then you were saying Oscar’s name. I hated my older brother after that.”