Unmasking the Duke's Mistress

by Margaret McPhee

  He flinched at the word. He walked to stand before her. ‘You moved away so that I would not know.’

  ‘It was one of the duke’s requirements. Henry raised Archie as his own even though the truth was so plain to see.’

  Dominic looked like he was breaking apart as he stood there. She watched him close his eyes. Heard him murmur, ‘My God, Arabella.’

  On the door behind him she could see the smear of his blood. Nothing seemed real. Dominic had not left her. He had not abandoned her. And truth revealed only a worse tragedy than any of them could have imagined. For Dominic, and for her, and for their son upstairs.

  ‘You are bleeding,’ she said.

  He did not even glance down at his hand with his grazed and bruised knuckles. ‘I should have been there to protect you, Arabella.’

  ‘Please, Dominic…’ Her voice broke. There were no words that could make any of it better.

  ‘I should have been your husband, Arabella. I should have been a father to my son.’

  She began to weep for all that they had lost.

  He came to her and sat beside her, scooping her on to his lap as if she were a small child. And then he held her close and rocked her, and she heard his voice against her hair.

  ‘God help us, Arabella. I will do my best for you and for Archie. I swear it.’

  And Arabella laid her head against his chest.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The clock on the mantel was striking two as Arabella watched Archie pretend to groom the little wooden horse that Gemmell had given him.

  ‘You must go to sleep in your stable, Charlie.’ She could hear the softness of his voice as he spoke to the toy before hiding it behind the cushion of the sofa and galloping off across the drawing room making neighing noises.

  Sitting on the sofa beside her, Mrs Tatton leaned closer and lowered her voice.

  ‘I cannot believe that Dominic Furneaux is behind all of this.’ She peered angrily at Arabella. ‘You should have told me, Arabella.’

  ‘Mama,’ Arabella sighed. ‘You must realise why I did not. It was a difficult situation and I knew how you felt about him.’

  ‘I thought you felt the same,’ said her mother. ‘Lord, but that man ruined your life. He ruined all our lives!’

  ‘Mama, I have already explained that none of it was Dominic’s fault. He suffered as much from this as we did.’

  ‘Nowhere near, Arabella,’ said Mrs Tatton. ‘He did not have to work his fingers to the bone, or live in a rookery, or go hungry.’

  ‘No, Mama. But he suffered all the same.’ When she thought of how much of his son’s life he had missed out on she felt terrible.

  Her mother gave a snort of disbelief and moved on. ‘What are his intentions now that he is aware of Archie and me?’

  ‘He means to do his best for us.’

  ‘And precisely how does he plan to do that?’ Mrs Tatton demanded.

  ‘There are no easy answers to any of this. The past cannot be so easily undone.’ Lost years could not be recaptured. A little boy’s childhood could not be relived. The knowledge broke her heart.

  ‘Nor undone at all, Arabella. How can what happened ever be made right?’

  ‘I do not know, Mama. I need time to think. Dominic needs time to think. There is much to be considered.’

  ‘Much indeed,’ muttered her mother. She glanced up to the ceiling and lowered her voice again. ‘Why is he still up there? Why does he not leave?’

  ‘He is giving us some time together, and when I feel that we are ready I will ask him to come down. He wishes to meet Archie.’

  ‘I’m sure he does.’ Her mother’s mouth pressed into a thin line of disapproval. ‘Abominable rake! Do you think he will marry you?’ Mrs Tatton made it sound ridiculous.

  ‘I know he cannot marry me, Mama. Not now.’ The words were bitter in her mouth.

  ‘He is the Duke of Arlesford, Arabella. It would be unimaginable if he were to marry you. Think of the scandal.’

  ‘I know, Mama.’ He would keep her here as his mistress and make love to her at night, and pay for everything that she and his son wanted. There would be no more skulking and hiding for her mother and Archie. She should have been glad of it but her heart was heavier and more aching than it had ever been. She sat the teacup and saucer back down upon the table lest its tremor betray her distress.

  ‘Dominic has a duty to the Arlesford seat. No, Arabella, believe me when I tell you that he must marry some rich, well-connected girl, a girl with an untarnished reputation and a father that moves in the right circles.’

  A girl like Lady Marianne Winslow.

  It was Arabella’s unsuitability to be his bride that had caused this whole mess in the first place.

  ‘And when he weds her, what then of you, Arabella? Will he keep you here as his mistress while he begets children on his duchess?’ Mrs Tatton shook her head and stared at Arabella with concern. ‘And what of Archie? What will become of him when Dominic begins to fill the nursery at Shardeloes with sons who are not born out of wedlock?’

  She stared at her mother, appalled at the images she was conjuring.

  ‘He will not be so keen to visit his bastard son then.’

  ‘Archie was not born out of wedlock. I was married to Henry,’ she whispered furiously.

  ‘If you think that there is anyone who will believe Archie to be anything other than Dominic’s you are fooling yourself, girl! One look at the boy and it is clear. Arabella…’ Mrs Tatton sighed again and she took Arabella’s hand in her own. ‘You must handle this negotiation very carefully indeed both for your own sake and for Archie’s.’

  ‘Negotiation? You make it sound like some new arrangement with a protector!’

  ‘Is that not precisely what this is, Arabella? A renegotiation?’

  ‘No! It is not like that.’

  ‘Then what is it like, Arabella?’

  Arabella turned her face away, and could give no reply. She did not know herself what it was like, this situation into which they had all been thrust. There were no words to describe what she felt. Confusion and hope and bruising. Love and anger and resentment. And disbelief, an overwhelming sense that this was all some awful nightmare from which she would awaken. She loved Dominic, but her heart was still aching. And there seemed no way to make it better. She loved him, but it was all too late. Because her mother was right. No matter how she dressed it up otherwise, he had bought her from a brothel and made her his mistress. And nothing could change that.

  ‘Mrs Tatton,’ Dominic bowed to Arabella’s mother.

  ‘Your Grace,’ said Mrs Tatton grudgingly and looked at him with daggers in her eyes.

  Dominic turned and stared at the little boy; he felt his heart contract and a feeling of tenderness expand through him. Archie was a miniature youthful version of himself. The same dark brown eyes, the same purposeful chin, his hair only a slightly lighter shade of brown than Dominic’s own.

  ‘Dominic, this is Archie.’ Arabella had a hand upon the boy’s shoulder in a gesture to reassure the child.

  ‘Are you my mama’s friend?’ He saw the innocent curiosity in Archie’s eyes.

  Dominic’s gaze fleetingly met Arabella’s before coming back to the child’s. He crouched down, so that Archie did not have to tilt his head right back to look at him. ‘I am your friend too, Archie.’ He was aware of Mrs Tatton sitting in one of the armchairs in the background and the blatant look of dislike upon her face, but he paid her no attention.

  ‘This is Dominic,’ Arabella told the child.

  Your father, he wanted to say, but knew that he must not. Arabella was right, they must handle this very slowly and gently.

  Archie gave a polite little bow. ‘I am very pleased to meet you, sir.’

  ‘And I am very pleased to meet you too, Archie.’ This was his son, flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood. ‘Your mama tells me that you are very fond of horses.’ Archie nodded.

  ‘That makes two of us.’ He smiled. And Ar
chie smiled back at him, and at the sight of it Dominic felt a huge wave of emotion hit him and his heart seemed to melt into a pool of overwhelming love. He gave a gruff nod and, suddenly frightened that he was going to start weeping, rose to his full height and cleared his throat.

  ‘I will return tomorrow, Arabella,’ he said.

  She nodded; there was a look of such tenderness in her eyes when she looked at their son that it made him want to weep all the more. He made his bow to her and to her mother, and he left, while he still could.

  Dominic waved his secretary away with his diary of missed appointments. He shut the door of his study within Arlesford House in Berkley Square and leaned his back upon it. His gaze wandered around the room, seeing the papers on his desk, his books, everything, just as he had left them. And now, less than twenty-four hours later, everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same again. He thought of what his father had done. He thought of what Arabella had become. And he thought of the little boy who did not know he was his son. And he wept.

  Dominic did not sleep that night. There were too many thoughts in his head. Too many conflicting emotions. Rage and bitterness. Betrayal and hurt. Disbelief and regret. Possessiveness and protectiveness. And love.

  By the time the next morning arrived the thoughts were all still there. He pushed the breakfast plate away with the kippers and scrambled eggs upon it barely touched and called for some paper, pen and ink.

  Dominic did not go to Carlton House that day to meet with the Prince of Wales. Instead he went to Curzon Street—to Arabella and his son.

  Arabella watched Dominic with Archie, father and son, the two dark heads bent together, their faces so alike, and she felt her chest tighten with emotion and heard that same whisper of guilt that had been there before.

  Archie’s initial shyness had disappeared. He was laughing and running around the chair on which Dominic was sitting, jumping over Dominic’s long legs that were stretched out before him. As she watched, Archie clambered up on to Dominic’s knee and with his little hand took hold of Dominic’s large one. She saw the depth of emotion that swept across Dominic’s face before he hid it. Archie was giggling and Dominic laughed too as he tweaked Archie’s nose and pretended that he had captured it from the little boy’s face. Arabella had to turn away to stop the tears welling in her eyes.

  Father and son played together until Arabella knew that Archie was getting tired and overexcited.

  ‘It will soon be time for dinner, Archie. You must say farewell to Dominic for now and go and get washed and changed.’

  ‘But, Mama,’ groaned Archie, ‘we are not finished playing the horses game.’

  ‘Dominic will come back another day to play with you.’

  ‘Please, Mama,’ Archie pleaded.

  ‘You must do as your mama says,’ said Dominic and, lifting Archie to his feet, rose to stand by his son’s side. ‘I will see you again soon.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Archie took hold of Dominic’s hand and looked up at him.

  ‘Yes, tomorrow,’ said Dominic and ruffled Archie’s hair.

  Archie smiled. ‘And we will play the horses game?’

  Dominic smiled too, in exactly the same way. ‘We will play the horses game.’

  ‘I like you, Dominic.’

  ‘I like you too, Archie.’

  Arabella’s lips pressed tight to control the swamp of emotion.

  She took Archie away to the large bedroom next to her own that had, at Dominic’s instruction, been transformed overnight into a nursery. Mrs Tatton sat in there reading, having resisted all persuasions to even be in the same room as Dominic. Her face was sullen as she set the book down and took Archie from her daughter. And when Arabella tried to speak, her mother turned away and would not listen.

  By the time Arabella returned to the drawing room Dominic was staring down into the empty fireplace deep in thought. He did not look round until she had closed the door.

  There was a poignancy about him, and both an anger and something that looked like disappointment that shadowed his eyes. The very air seemed thick with the tragedy of what might have been.

  The question, when it came, hit her harder than she had expected.

  ‘Why did you hide Archie from me, Arabella?’

  ‘You know why, Dominic. I believed the worst of you.’

  ‘Even so, what man, even a scoundrel as you believed me, does not have a care for his own son? You should have told me.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Hell, Arabella, he is my son! Did you not think I had a right to know?’

  Deep in the pit of her stomach was guilt and regret. ‘I did not think your right important beside that of protecting Archie.’

  ‘Protecting him from me? Damnation, Arabella what did you think I would have done to him?’ He looked tortured.

  ‘All of London names you a rake, Dominic, a man who takes what he wants without a care. You are rich and powerful, a duke. I am poor, without connection. You found me in a bordello. I feared you would take him from me.’ She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear even the thought. ‘He is only just five years old, Dominic, a little boy. He needs love, not to be raised by strangers who do not care for him any further than the wage they are paid.’

  ‘I would never have taken him from you.’

  ‘I did not know that.’

  ‘All those times I came here, all those times we made love, and all the while you had our son hidden up in the attic!’

  She gasped. ‘You make it sound something it was not! I love Archie. I would lay down my life to protect him. Yes, I sold myself for his sake, but you, Dominic Furneaux, are the man who bought me. So do not dare to stand there in judgement of me!’

  ‘If you had told me of Archie it would have changed every thing.’

  ‘What would it have changed, Dominic?’ she cried. ‘That you paid Mrs Silver to have sex with me? That you bought me from her? That you made me your mistress?’

  He winced at her words as if it pained him to hear them. But she could not stop; she wanted him to understand.

  ‘I believed you a man who had taken my virginity and my trust and broken my heart. I believed you a man that left me at nineteen, ruined, unmarried and disgraced. A man who was willing to buy me—to use me for his own selfish pleasure.’

  Her eyes raked his. ‘Would you have me hand Archie over to such a man? Someone I did not trust? Someone with whom I was so angry and did not even like? A man I thought to be ruthless and selfish and arrogant and capable of inflicting such hurt. What kind of mother would that have made me to our son, Dominic?’

  ‘I understand your reasons, Arabella, but—’

  ‘There are no “buts”, Dominic.’ She needed him to know. ‘I did what I had to for Archie’s sake. I will always do what I have to, to protect him, no matter what you say.’

  They looked at one another.

  ‘Would you ever have told me had not the truth come out?’

  Would she?

  ‘I do not know,’ she said honestly. ‘I felt matters were changing between us. I found that in spite of everything I believed of you that I still had…feelings for you. That perhaps it might have been the same for you.’ The words hung awkwardly in the air between them and she wished that she had not said them. Her pride was still too delicate and she did not want it crushed. She turned away, but Dominic took hold of her and pulled her round to face him.

  ‘I never stopped having feelings for you, Arabella,’ he said and there was such a strength and determination in his words that she could feel it in the grip of his hands. ‘For all that I said in my bitterness, never think it was otherwise.’ He brushed his lips against her forehead.

  ‘What are we going to do, Dominic?’ It was the question that preyed on her mind constantly.

  ‘I do not know, Arabella. I only know that I will not lose you again, and I will not lose Archie.’

  Archie was in a frenzy of excitement the next morning. All he spoke of from the moment that his eyes opened was Domin
ic’s visit.

  ‘We are to play at horses,’ he told Arabella and she had not seen him smile so much before.

  Mrs Tatton, by contrast, looked pale and tired. She seemed to have aged in the past few days. There were deep lines of worry etched upon her face and shadows beneath her eyes.

  ‘Are you feeling unwell, Mama?’ Arabella looked at her anxiously, worried at the strain events were exerting upon her.

  ‘I am tired, Arabella, nothing more. I have barely slept a wink since that terrible night.’

  ‘Mama…’ Arabella came to her and rubbed a hand against her arm ‘…maybe you should go back to bed.’

  ‘What good would it do when I cannot sleep?’ Her mother shook her head. ‘Oh, Arabella, I wish you would see Dominic Furneaux for what he really is. It pains me that you can so easily believe his lies.’

  ‘What reason would he have to lie about this, Mama?’

  ‘Because he wants the boy without losing you from his bed.’

  ‘Trust me, Mama…’ Arabella shook her head ‘…he is not lying.’

  ‘Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. For all his pretty words, Arabella, his loyalty lies with himself and his title. Once he has found himself a bride he will leave you behind as he did before, taking the child with him when he goes.’

  ‘No, Mama, you have this all wrong.’

  ‘No, Arabella, you are the one whose judgement had gone a-begging. I cannot bear to stand by and watch him destroy you all over again. What will it take to make you realise? Will you wait until he plants another babe in your belly and walks away before you see?’

  Arabella stared at her mother, stunned.

  ‘Grandmama, look at me!’ shouted Archie. ‘I am a horse all ready for Dominic!’ He was jumping all around her mother, pulling at her skirt.

  ‘Stop this nonsense, Archie, and go and sit down quietly!’ Mrs Tatton snapped, shooing him away. ‘I do not want to hear another word about Dominic Furneaux!’ Archie’s bottom lip trembled and Arabella bit her own to capture the sharp retort she would have uttered to her mother. Instead she turned to her son and spoke calmly.