by Lucy Monroe
"The avoidance is mutual," was his clipped response.
She sighed.
She had hurt him. "I'm sorry, Pierson. I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject, but surely you can see that I find the discussion of my estranged parent just as wearing."
"I see that your stubbornness extends even to your family, and that although you should consider reconciliation for both your aunt and your brother's sake, you won't."
Incensed, she replied, "What about my sake? I don't want to be reconciled to the man who tore my family apart. He destroyed something inside my mother. What about my loyalty to her?"
"That's what this is all about, isn't it? Your mother. You think that if you reconcile with your father, you've desecrated her memory. Well, she's gone, but others are still alive. Lady Upworth wants peace in her family. She wants you to take your place in Society. She helped your mother and you. Don't you owe her loyalty, too? And what of your brother? He deserves to know you."
He knew nothing of Irisa, but his arguments applied to the younger woman as well.
Thea felt tears prick at the back of her eyes for the second time that night. "I am loyal to my aunt." Her voice threatened to break. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I explained that I will make myself known to my brother."
And her sister, too. Someday.
Suddenly he was on the seat beside her with his hand laid gently against her cheek. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm pushing you too hard."
"Why are you doing it?" she asked, unable to help herself.
He remained silent for so long, she thought he would not answer, but then he spoke. "I thought it was because I wanted you to settle into life in England, to develop ties here so you wouldn't want to leave."
When he didn't go on, she prompted him. "That's not the reason?"
"It is part of it. Understand something—I mean for you to stay."
She did not doubt he spoke the truth. He had been very clear about his intentions from the afternoon they made love on the ship. Perhaps if he loved her, it would make a difference. She was honest enough to admit that her desire to remain unwed was wavering.
But he didn't love her, and she wasn't sure passion was enough. She didn't want to dwell on those thoughts now, however.
She wanted to understand why he kept pressing her to acknowledge her father. "What's the rest of it?"
"I hated not knowing my father." His voice came out stark, full of remembered pain.
"And…" she prodded gently.
"Although I have long since determined he is not a man worth knowing, the desire to be acknowledged by him has never completely left me."
He would feel it a weakness to need the approval of a man who had never once acknowledged him, and Thea felt a rush of understanding.
"You're trying to force me to reconcile with my father because it's an option you wanted, but never had."
"Perhaps."
She knew the one-word admission had cost him. The pain in Drake's voice tugged at her heart.
"Did you ever tell your mother or grandfather how you felt? Perhaps they could have arranged a meeting."
His hand fell away from her cheek. "I never admitted my weakness to anyone else."
It was her turn to comfort him.
She turned toward him and took his hand in hers. "It isn't a weakness to want to know your family."
"My sisters and brothers don't even know that I exist."
She could imagine how that knowledge must have eaten away at his pride and sense of honor. "That's why you are so adamant that I meet my brother. But Lady Upworth said my brother has not yet come to Town."
"He deserves to know you."
Just as Drake deserved to know his siblings, but never would.
She couldn't leave it at that. "You don't need your father's acknowledgment or approval, Pierson. You have become the most honorable and worthy of men without it, a man others would do well to pattern themselves after."
"If that is truly how you feel, then you would not be afraid to marry me."
"You don't love me."
He pulled her shoulders around until she faced him. "You don't believe in love any more than I do. You think it weakens women. Ashby Merewether told me."
She couldn't deny his charge, so she focused on something else. "What happens when you stop wanting me?"
"I'll never stop wanting you." The words sounded suspiciously like a vow.
Thea slid another surreptitious glance at Drake as he took notes on the ledger spread open at the library desk. His fingers holding the pencil were so strong and she remembered how much pleasure they brought her. Pleasure that had come with a price, if only he knew it. What would he say if she told him about her experience over the chamber pot this morning?
She felt perfectly well now, which was more alarming than if the nauseous feeling had persisted. If it had persisted, she could convince herself that it was due to illness, or land sickness, though that ailment was better known to occur after long sea voyages. Her time aboard the Golden Dragon had neither been so long in duration, nor so recent, that land sickness could be a realistic explanation for waking this morning with an overwhelming urge to cast up her accounts.
She had never heard of a flu lasting only as long as it took to void one's stomach either. And although her skin had been clammy to the touch, she had not had a fever. She had to definitely rule out illness as an excuse. That left only one alternative.
Morning sickness.
She was pregnant with Pierson Drake's child.
* * *
Chapter 16
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Langley must now realize that Estcot's word of honor is as reliable as Prinny's temper. Had this happened five years ago, I would have taken the first ship back to England, sure that I could finally convince Langley of my innocence. Yet, in all this time, he has never mentioned me to Lady Upworth. She despairs of raising the subject of my seeing Jared anymore because of his cold reception to the idea. It is no use. I have built a life for myself and Thea here. There is no hope of seeing my son before he reaches his majority.
March 1, 1804
Journal of Anna Selwyn, Countess of Langley
Thea hugged the knowledge of her pregnancy to herself, thrilled despite the ramifications it must bring.
The prospect of bearing Drake's child sent warmth and trepidation cascading through her all at once. Could she risk her freedom and perhaps her happiness as well by marrying him?
She chewed on her lower lip. Were she to admit the truth, she would have to acknowledge that the decision to marry him had occurred the moment she accepted his body into her own. Not because he so arrogantly assumed she would marry him, but because once they had made love, he owned a part of her that would never be wholly hers again.
It had been inevitable. No matter how desperately she had tried to protect herself from her feelings for him, they had steadily grown within her.
She feared she loved him—and it was all his fault.
With silky black hair that she longed to bury her fingers in, eyes that mesmerized her with their intensity, and a male physique that Gentleman Jackson would be proud to possess, Drake was more attractive than any gentleman had a right to be.
Added to his immense physical appeal, he had unswerving honor and diligence. Even his arrogance drew her. It went against everything she believed she would want in a husband, and yet she found that she actually had come to rely on it.
When she lacked confidence, his supreme assurance buoyed her. When she had first stepped off the ship and realized what a totally different world England was from her island, her belief in herself and her ability to find the embezzler in her company failed. Drake, on the other hand, had not wavered in his certainty that they would unmask the thief before any harm could come to Uncle Ashby.
Further, he exhausted himself making it happen. She had noticed dark rings under his eyes this morning at breakfast. When she had taxed him with it later, he admitted that he had been parti
cipating in the nightlong watch over the Merewether Shipping office.
He pushed her to make amends with her family, but only because he wanted her to have everything. A place in the ton, a father, a brother. If only he knew the final act of cruelty her father had committed. He would understand that though she would attempt to have a relationship with her brother, she could never give her father a place in her life.
"What?" His irritated voice startled her out of her musings. "You've been staring at me for the past ten minutes. What is it?"
She stalled for time before answering his question. "Does it bother you when I look at you?"
"It bothers me when you look through me." He pushed the ledger away. "We will find the thief. You need to stop making yourself sick with worry about it. The man I sent to watch over Merewether is tough and trustworthy. He won't let anything happen to your uncle."
There was another example of his protective concern for her. He had sent an agent to watch her uncle immediately upon reaching port even though she had told him about her confiding in Philippe.
"I'm not worried about Uncle Ashby." At least he wasn't the foremost worry on her mind.
"Then what is the matter? Is it because I pushed you last night about reconciling with your father?"
She shook her head. She knew that Drake would not force the issue, regardless of what he believed to be best. Look at the issue of their marriage. Although he made his desire to marry her clear, he had not resorted to intimidation or blackmail. He had brought up her aunt's place in Society and then protected it with their engagement. He could have used her consideration for Lady Upworth to force her hand, but he hadn't.
"I have never been good at parlor games, particularly the guessing variety." He leaned back in the chair behind the desk, tapping his pencil against his other hand. "Why don't you just tell me what has you so preoccupied?"
"I think I may be pregnant." She blurted the words out without making any attempt to soften them.
He shot up from the desk, dropped the pencil, and practically leaped over the desk to reach her. He gripped her shoulders. "How can you tell? Have you missed your menses?"
She smiled at the urgency in his voice. "It hasn't been long enough, but this morning I woke feeling every bit as seasick as I ever did aboard ship."
He dropped his hands and stepped back. "What are you going to do?"
She cocked her head to one side and studied him. He didn't look like a man who had just heard he was going to get his own way in a very important matter. He looked wary, as if he were bracing himself for a blow.
"What do you mean?"
He curled his hands into fists. "Are you going to marry me—or go back to your island and pretend to be a widow like your mother did?"
If she had any doubt that she could trust him, it dissolved with his question. He was giving her a choice, refusing to allow her to feel trapped, although he must realize as she did that her returning to the island as a widow would be ludicrous. No one would believe it.
"I had thought to marry you."
"Why?"
She hadn't expected that question. If he thought she was going to admit tender feelings for him when he wasn't even sure he believed in love, then he was in for a disappointment.
"You made your feelings about having a child of yours grow up illegitimate very clear. I thought you would be happy with my decision."
"I am happy."
"Well, you aren't acting like it." If she sounded like she was complaining, she felt justified.
The tears came as a complete shock.
"Bloody hell." He stepped forward and pulled her against him. "Hush, sweetheart. I am happier than I can say that you've agreed to marry me. Even if I don't completely understand why."
She sniffled against his shirt. "I should think it's obvious. I'm pregnant with your child. It is the accepted course of action."
Laughter rumbled in his chest even as he rubbed her back in a soothing motion. "You so rarely take the accepted course that I can't help being a little surprised when you choose to do so."
Honestly. She had expected a much different reaction, and her patience had worn thin waiting for it.
She struggled against his confining arms. "Let me go."
Rather than let her go, he leaned down and caught her legs under her knees and swung her up into his embrace.
"Put me down."
He ignored her protest and carried her to the infamous sofa near the window.
He sat down with her ensconced firmly in his lap. "Relax. All this struggling can't be good for the baby."
She snorted.
From what she had seen of pregnant women back home, babies could withstand a great deal. "Our baby is not so fainthearted."
"Then stop struggling, because if you don't, we are going to end up making love again and this time I didn't lock the door."
She glared at him, but stopped squirming against his lap. The growing bulge under her thigh confirmed that he meant what he said.
"If you don't want to marry me, I'm sure I can manage on my own. I am financially independent and every bit as capable as my mother of raising a child without a husband."
He gripped her chin with his hand and forced her to meet his gaze. "We are getting married. You agreed to it and I'm not about to let you renege on your word. My baby will be born with my name."
"I never said I wanted our baby to do otherwise. You are the one acting less than enthusiastic about the idea of marriage."
He frowned and the wary expression came back into his eyes. "Perhaps I had hoped that you would want to marry me for my sake, not just as penance for allowing me to make love to you."
"I didn't say it was penance."
"You did not have to."
She couldn't believe it. He felt insecure. It was there in his eyes. He thought she wanted to marry him only because of the baby. How could she convince him otherwise without sharing her innermost feelings?
Feelings she still did not trust.
"I'm not marrying you just because I'm pregnant."
"Are you saying that you decided to marry me before you got sick this morning?"
Placing her hand on his shoulder, she sighed. "No."
"Then you are marrying me because of the baby."
"Well, isn't that why you want to marry me?"
"I asked you to marry me after we made love the first time."
That was true. Suddenly she felt better than she had in days. He must have some tender feelings for her. She could not believe that he had proposed to every woman he had ever lain with. He'd surely be married several times over by now if that were the case.
She brushed his cheek with her fingertips. "It's true that my morning sickness precipitated my decision, but I would have come to the same one eventually, regardless."
"What of your promise to your mother?"
"Melly is right about one thing. Mama wanted me to be happy." Leaning forward, Thea caressed the skin of his jaw with her lips. "Marrying you will make me very happy."
As she said the words, she knew deep in her heart that they were true. She wanted him in her life. The thought of returning to her island without him, to spend the rest of her years alone, held no appeal. She might be independent, but she wasn't stupid. She knew a good thing when she saw it, and a life with Drake would be a very good thing indeed.
"Your happiness is necessary to my own. I will do everything in my power to see that our life together never causes you to regret your decision."
Tears stung her eyes at the promise in his voice. He might not love her, but he cared for her. Her father had claimed to love her mother, but had been the instrument of her unhappiness. Drake did not claim to love Thea, but she knew with absolute assurance that he would devote himself to making her happy.
"You are crying again."
She nodded, her throat too constricted to speak.
"Have I said something to offend you?"
She shook her head.
"I had heard t
hat pregnant women were emotional, but I confess I am not sure how to deal with it."
She smiled. How could she put into words what she was feeling right now? She had spent her entire adult life, and most of her girlhood, convinced that marriage was a fate worse than death. Now that she faced the prospect with Drake, all she felt was anticipation and relief that she would not have to tell him good-bye.
Happy tears seemed like the appropriate response.
"What do you mean, the wedding is scheduled in two hours?"
Thea felt hysteria rising like a tidal wave inside her. Married? Today? She grabbed frantically at the doorjamb to her room. It felt solid enough. She hadn't dreamed the loud knocking and Drake's demand for an audience from the other side. She truly was standing in the doorway to her room wearing nothing but a nightrail and wrapper while Drake informed her that they were scheduled to marry in less than two hours.
"You've gone mad. We can't get married this morning. The banns haven't been read. I don't have a dress. Nothing has been planned. It is impossible."
Drake smiled at her with the devil's own charm and waved a piece of white parchment in front of her face. "This is a special license. It says that we can marry today. You cannot tell me with the numerous new dresses you have bought, you don't have one suitable for a small wedding."
She interrupted before he could go on. "For someone else's small wedding, not my own."
"Don't whine, Thea. You are the one who told me you cared nothing for clothes."
"I didn't say nothing, or maybe I did, but I didn't mean I cared not a whit what I wore to my wedding."
He had the unmitigated gall to shrug. "You will look beautiful in whatever you choose."
He refused to understand.
She ground her teeth in an effort not to scream. "What of a wedding breakfast?"
"Lady Upworth has planned a small gathering at her home."
"You told my aunt about our wedding before you told me?"
"You don't need to shout, sweetheart. I'm standing right here. Of course I told her, or how could she have planned the breakfast? Now stop being difficult and get ready." He pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket, flipped it open, and looked at it. "You have an hour and forty-five minutes before we have to leave."
