The thought of it made her feel more than a little melancholic, but she gave herself a firm reminder that she had no claims on him. He was her paramour. She could not think the way she’d done as a young wife with a husband, with prospects for the future. This was entirely different. She and Thomas had followed no customary courtship, and he could not have made his desires more plain. Maggie needed to reconcile herself to the knowledge that there was no future for them, nothing beyond the next few weeks.
If that.
Desultorily, she tossed the ball to Zachary again. Her situation was so very different now than when she’d married Julian. And now that her husband was gone, she did not trust Shefford to take care of her family, not when he’d made such a mess of Blackmore Manor and all of Julian’s holdings. Which left it to Maggie to manage things. She had much to do in order to salvage and hold on to whatever she could of Zachary’s birthright.
It was perfectly clear that Shefford intended to manipulate her into doing his wishes, whether that be marrying Mr. Kimbridge, or wheedling information—and funds—from Thomas. Maggie intended to do neither. She was going deal with her troubles herself, and keep the caricatures for Mr. Brown and her resulting income a secret. No one would ever need know of her employment or her liaison with Thomas.
It was no one’s concern but her own, and she could not bear to think of what would happen to her reputation if either secret was discovered.
At least Thomas planned to stay in London long enough to race Shefford’s horses, which gave them at least four weeks, but she did not know what he intended to do after that. Perhaps his business with the government would be completed by then and he would return to his home.
Maggie pressed a hand to her chest. She had children to raise, an estate to manage, and debts to pay. When Thomas left, their affair would be over and she would be left alone, just as she’d been for the past eight years.
Even so, she’d been little more than a green girl up until a week ago, when she’d opened her eyes and realized that all was not well. Never again would she fool herself into believing what she hoped was true.
“Zachary, let me tuck in your shirt,” she called, aware of the way he must appear to the fashionable couples who strolled by—an ill-bred boy from the country.
“Catch me, Mama!” He ran to the low branch of a tree where he jumped up and hung by his hands. He quickly swung his legs up, giving the impression of a wild animal on a spit. He could not be more indecorous.
Luckily, Nurse Hawkins hurried over to retrieve him, but not before two supremely fashionable ladies walked past, looking down their noses at their small, unruly party. They said nothing as they passed, but the flame-haired one glared at Maggie before moving away.
“Er, my lady…” Hawkins said quietly. “Isn’t that…?”
Maggie swallowed back the hurt she felt at her sister’s obvious snub. No matter how often it happened, it still stung. “Yes, it is. My sister Charlotte.” The one who believed she’d been most injured by Maggie’s supposed recklessness. If not for Maggie’s loud and horrified revelation of Chatterton’s perversion, Charlotte would be a duchess today.
A vastly unhappy one, no doubt, considering where her husband’s interests would lie—but she would be a duchess, nonetheless.
Maggie could not meet Nurse Hawkins’s gaze just then, but turned away from the walk to pick up Lily, who was perfectly behaved, as always. She hurried toward Zachary, taking his grubby hand in hers. She would speak to him later about proper park behavior. “Come on, let’s go to the pond. I’m sure there will be some ducks to chase.”
After twenty years, her family still held her responsible for Chatterton’s assault, as though she had been the one who’d instigated his horrible behavior. She’d been unfairly punished for exposing him for what he was, and blamed for his subsequent despair and suicide.
She’d felt responsible for years, and it was only after her experience in the marital bed that she understood how truly monstrous Chatterton had been. And what he’d intended to do to her that afternoon in the deserted nursery. Something had been dreadfully wrong with the man to behave in such a manner, cousin or not. Charlotte’s fiancé…or not.
Her sisters’ rejection no longer mattered. They’d all managed to acquire decent husbands, in spite of the Chatterton affair. Maggie took a deep breath and allowed herself to feel cleansed of their vitriol. She would observe the proprieties with her mother and siblings, but nothing more.
Maggie and Hawkins followed Zachary as he ran in the direction of the duck pond, and Maggie called to him to wait before crossing the bridle path. He turned and looked at her as impatiently as only a five-year-old could do, but then his expression changed, and he broke into a broad smile.
“Thorne!” he shouted.
At that, Zachary came running toward Maggie, veering past her to greet the horseman who was approaching from the direction of Town.
Her heart fluttered at the sight of her prince, dismounting to capture a speeding Zachary in his arms. “Hello, young man.”
The sound of his voice sent waves of anticipation through Maggie, and she forced a composure she did not feel. Her sisters might think little of her, but that was not true of Thomas. He made her feel precious and unique.
He came toward her, carrying Zachary and leading his horse.
“Mama, it’s Thorne!” Zac turned to the man who held him. “Did you come to see us?”
“Of course,” Thomas said, though Maggie was sure that was not true. He was a man of many responsibilities and she was only a diversion, no matter how precious he made her feel. “Who else would I want to see?” He’d given no indication that he’d intended to return before three o’clock, and he couldn’t have known they were coming to the park. Maggie had not even known it until an hour ago.
She reminded herself that she had no right to wonder whether he’d returned to Delamere House after leaving her bed, or if he’d had appointments in Town. Who he met and what he did were not her business. A mistress would never ask.
Zachary ran ahead. “We’re going to see the ducks!”
“I’ll just make sure he doesn’t get into trouble, shall I?” Nurse Hawkins scooped up Lily into her arms and hurried to catch up to Zac.
Maggie’s skin prickled with awareness and her chest filled with excitement at the sight of him. His gaze was warm, and held the secret knowledge of the intimate hours they’d spent together. Maggie shivered with the memory of the wanton and altogether magnificent kisses they’d shared, and felt slightly breathless with expectations of the afternoon they would spend together.
Thomas fell into step beside her as though he belonged there, keeping a proper distance between them. And yet his eyes held hers as they walked.
She looked away, afraid her own eyes showed too much. She really needed to cultivate some sophistication. Surely a mistress would know how to mask her emotions.
“Zachary is very happy to see you,” Maggie said in an attempt to lighten the moment.
“Maggie,” Thomas said, his voice low and seductive. “I can still taste you.”
Her breath caught.
“I want more.”
Arousal coursed through her, making her feel warm all over, and not a little shaky. Her stays pinched, and the cloth of her chemise felt rough against her skin. She forced herself to contain what she felt, for they were in a public place, and there was nowhere they could go to assuage their desires.
“You should not say such things.”
“That doesn’t change the truth of it.”
Maggie swallowed and kept walking, unsure how she could keep going without touching him, without feeling his lips on hers. She looked for a secluded area—a copse of trees, or a hidden pavilion—any place where she could quench the fire he flamed inside her. And yet such recklessness was impossible. Purely ridiculous. She could no more make love with him in the park than she could fly.
They arrived at the pond where Nurse Hawkins held Lily safely in her
arms and Zachary tossed bits of grass into the water toward the ducks. They quacked and swam closer, much to her son’s delight.
But Maggie could hardly appreciate his glee while Thomas stood within reach, and she was unable to touch him. “What time is it?” she whispered.
A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Still morning,” he rasped. He cleared his throat and took pity on them both, putting some distance between them as he strode toward Zac. “Have you ever made a paper boat?”
Zachary looked up at Thomas with curiosity. “A paper boat? How would it ever float?”
“Shall we see?” Thomas reached up to his saddle and brought down a newspaper.
Maggie sensed no interruption in the intensity of Thomas’s attention, even though he was engaging her son. His voice held the promise of pleasures to come, and as his big, capable hands started to make folds in the newspaper, Maggie quaked at the knowledge of what those hands would soon be doing, with her.
“Hello there!” called a woman’s voice, shattering the spellbinding moment.
Maggie turned to see Charlotte and her friend hurrying toward them, both of them breathing heavily, as though they’d had to run to catch up. The two women came abreast with Maggie. Charlotte put her hand on Maggie’s sleeve, smiling at her as she’d never done before.
Charlotte turned her back to her friend and confronted Maggie, and her smile fell from her face.
“What?” Maggie asked. Obviously something was amiss, or Charlotte would not have returned. “What is it?”
“Don’t play the green girl with me, Margaret,” she whispered.
“What do you mean? W-we just came out for a bit of exercise.”
“I can see that, of course,” Charlotte retorted loud enough for her companion to hear. Her tone was superficially polite, yet her words were not quite civil.
Maggie glanced at Charlotte’s friend, and took note of the sparkle in her eyes and her excited demeanor. Her stomach dropped as she comprehended Charlotte’s unexpected return.
She said nothing to Charlotte, but walked toward Thomas, certain that her sister would be right behind her. “Prince Thomas, may I present my sister Charlotte, Baroness of Aughton. I’m afraid I don’t know your companion, Charlotte.”
Charlotte curtseyed deeply, smiling as attractively as possible, then introduced her friend. When the formalities were completed, Charlotte deftly slipped her hand through the crook of Thomas’s elbow and started to maneuver him away from Maggie. “It’s such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness. I cannot believe this is the first we’ve met!”
“I have not been in Town long, my lady.”
“My husband has many connections in the foreign office and is anxious to meet you.”
Maggie stood motionless—and powerless—as her sister drew Thomas away.
“I am sure we will encounter each other one of these days, then,” Thomas said to Charlotte.
“Lord Aughton is at home at the moment and I’m sure you would enjoy a visit to—”
Thomas extricated himself from Charlotte’s grasp and returned to Maggie’s side. When he placed his hand at the small of her back and steered her toward the children, she felt as though her soul had swelled and was burning a little hotter.
He turned back to give a quick glance in Charlotte’s direction. “I don’t believe so, my lady. It was a pleasure to meet both of you, but I’ve made a promise here…”
“But Aughton House is so close, and my husband—”
Thomas crouched down at the water’s edge, ignoring Charlotte’s entreaty as he picked up the newspaper and started making Zac’s boat. “Go and find a long stick, Zachary.”
While Charlotte stood looking stunned by Thomas’s rebuff, he finished making a series of complicated folds in the newspaper. Maggie glanced up at her sister and was taken aback by her wrathful glower. It was obvious that she intended to use Thomas to some personal end, perhaps not quite as Shefford did, but the thought of it made Maggie queasy anyway.
But at least her sister could have no doubt that her conversation with the prince was over.
Zachary returned, and Thomas set the boat into the water, showing her son how to push it with the stick while he stayed far enough away from the water’s edge to remain safe. As Charlotte and her friend made a show of taking their leave of the prince, Maggie felt grateful for her children, for the two uncomplicated young souls who wanted nothing but her love and affection.
Lily clamored for Nurse Hawkins to let her down, and when she ran to Thomas, he clasped her against him to keep her from getting too close to the water. He spoke softly to her and she giggled, then squealed happily when the ducks surrounded the boat. He sat down in the grass near the pond and Lilly hugged his neck happily.
And, as Maggie watched her lover charm her children, the earth shifted under Maggie’s feet.
Thomas hadn’t expected to see Maggie in the park, but the sound of her voice and the sight of her sweetly smiling face had been more than captivating. His hands had itched to pull her into his arms, but social convention prohibited it, just as it forbade him from insulting Lady Charlotte to her face.
But he had come close. He had disliked her instantly, mentally categorizing her alongside her officious mother and unscrupulous stepbrother.
He had not missed the way Lady Aughton slighted her sister, and he felt a particular satisfaction in declining her invitation. It was a retaliation of sorts on Maggie’s behalf for her sister’s direct callousness. Charlotte could not have been more obvious in her desire to draw him away from Maggie, as though her sister was of no consequence.
Tom stood near Maggie and resisted touching the wisps of hair that curled so prettily near her ear. Somehow, he managed to restrain himself from taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss to its palm, from pulling her into his arms and feeling every one of her soft curves against him. He heard her shaky breath and knew she felt the same lust that tore at him now.
“Well,” she said, her voice low and a little bit breathless. “You’d already made a fair impression on Zachary and Lily. But I believe it’s sealed now.”
“And what of you, Lady Margaret?”
“I believe you already know what I think of you.”
His throat thickened and he clenched his teeth with frustration. With impatience. “Did I say three o’clock?”
She nodded.
“I could not have been so foolish. It’s far too long to wait.”
Maggie laughed. “Let’s catch up to the children.”
It was a reprieve they both needed. They walked to the far side of the pond, keeping their eyes on Zachary and Lily. The children laughed as they chased after the newspaper boat, squealing with pure delight.
Lily came to Tom to be lifted into his arms, and Zachary called to him, asking if they could have one more boat. This time, for his sister.
And Tom suddenly realized he had not enjoyed such a simple pleasure in years. The children’s utter glee felt like a breath of fresh air gusting through his lungs, and lifted the burden of vengeance from his shoulders, if only for the moment.
Chapter 11
Tom had been loath to leave Maggie and the children, but Nate Beraza and Mark Saret would be waiting to report on their investigations.
He returned to Delamere House and joined Saret for lunch at the richly carved Italian mahogany table in the dining room, counting the hours until it was time to fetch the woman who occupied the majority of his thoughts.
“Where is Nate?”
“I haven’t seen him yet this morning,” Saret replied. “I’m sure he has a great deal to do.”
Nate entered just then, and placed a folded newspaper on the table, turning it so that Tom could see the drawing in it. “Take a look at this.”
“It’s a very good likeness, isn’t it?” Saret asked with a grin.
“Look at all those women around you,” Nate said with a laugh. “This Redbush fellow has drawn their eyes to look like deer. Fawns. They’re fawning.�
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Saret laughed aloud, and Tom could not suppress a small smile. The artist had caught his likeness very well, and his satire possessed a clever bite.
He set the newspaper aside. “Have you learned anything about Foveaux?” he asked Nate.
“Foveaux? What?” Saret exclaimed.
“Aye. Our old commandant, right there last night in Lord Sawbrooke’s music room with us,” Nate explained. “Tom spoke with him and the bastard never recognized him.”
Saret’s expression remained incredulous. “Is it true, Tom?”
Tom nodded. The meeting seemed like ages ago. He hadn’t given Foveaux more than a fleeting thought since the night he’d spent with Maggie.
A prickle of pure desire crept up his back at the thought of her lying naked and sound asleep under her thick, woolen blanket. He’d left reluctantly after touching his lips to that sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder. She’d stirred, but not awoken, for it had been exceedingly late when they’d fallen asleep, after their thirst for each other had finally been slaked.
But not completely. Their chance encounter in the park made it clear he’d come nowhere near to having his fill of her.
“Tom?”
He looked up and gathered his thoughts. “I don’t think I was entirely unrecognized,” he said to Saret. “But it seemed that Foveaux just couldn’t reconcile his memory of the young, scrawny boy he’d known on Norfolk Island with the wealthy prince who stood before him last night.”
And he hoped Foveaux’s mind would never allow him to make the connection. At least, not until Tom had settled the score between them. Then, he wanted Foveaux to understand the full ramifications of his brutality in the penal colony.
Tom didn’t understand how anyone could possibly believe his far-fetched story of Sabedoria, but he had counted on his vast wealth—along with the allure of cheap, high quality flax and an alliance with a rich nation in the South Seas—excusing a multitude of sins. He’d counted on the haute ton overlooking any shortcoming or discrepancy, as long as the perpetrator was rich enough. And he’d been right. No one had challenged the existence of Sabedoria, not even Foveaux, who’d spent many years in the vicinity where it was supposedly located. The ruse was successful purely because of the enormous wealth he and his men had flaunted since their arrival.
The Rogue Prince Page 17
