‘I suspect your feelings have run to something stronger than bemusement, Baroness, and all things considered I cannot say that I blame you. However, I am not one to shirk my responsibilities and I trust you will have the goodness to hear me out.’
‘Indeed! You certainly owe my daughter that consideration after what you have done. If you’d had an ounce of common decency—whether she was a servant or noblewoman—you would not have done what you did. You ruined her—a decent, vulnerable girl.’
‘I’m not proud of myself, which is why I am here now—to make amends.’
‘Well, I have to say that I am relieved not to have to plead for her salvation from the man who destroyed any chance she had of making a decent marriage,’ the Baroness said.
‘I cannot do more than humbly apologise for my conduct and offer recompense.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Melissa interjected with a frown, hoisting her wriggling daughter to her shoulder. ‘I was equally to blame. What happened between us was by mutual consent, so please do not think you have to make any recompense.’
He looked at her intently. Yes, she had been willing. It was what they had both wanted. He’d felt it in her supple body, in its yielding, which had melted in that certain way women had when they were ready to take what they wanted, knowing what it was he had to offer. But she had been so young, a mere girl, really, and therefore she was absolved of all blame.
‘But I do. I did you a great discourtesy for which I ask your pardon. What I did was inexcusable. It was unpardonable of me. You are very beautiful—sweet...but I know that is no excuse. The fault was undoubtedly all mine. I cannot leave without coming to an arrangement with you.’
‘An arrangement,’ the Baron said quickly. ‘Kindly explain what you mean by that.’
Melissa was looking at him directly, holding his gaze with her own. Not one of his servants would look at him so, for her look was telling him that she could read his mind, that she knew what he had come for, what he wanted and the answer was no. Still holding her daughter, she moved closer to him, holding herself straight as she glared at him.
‘I know what it is you want,’ she said, her voice shaking with anger. ‘You want Violet for yourself, don’t you? You want to take her away from me. Indeed, I know I am right and I can tell you now that you are wasting your time. Have you any idea what it would do to her—to suddenly have her mother disappear from her life for no other reason than that you want her for yourself? Have you any idea how selfish that makes you appear? You have no right. She belongs to me. I will not allow you to take her.’
‘She is my daughter,’ he said with an inbred arrogance and certainty that said it would do no good to argue with him. ‘If that was what I wanted, I would have every right.’
‘I will not part with her. Don’t you dare ask that of me. Had you told me of your intentions yesterday it would have saved you a visit to my home, wasting both your time and mine. What is it you intend, to buy her?—because if so I will tell you now that I don’t want your money. There isn’t enough money in the world that could buy my daughter.’
‘You do realise that I could take Violet away from you by law, but that would mean exposing us all to publicity and I don’t believe that either of us want that.’ It was true, Laurence did not want that—not after the damning, shaming publicity he had been forced to endure when his wife and son had died. He turned to the Baron and his wife. ‘Do you have anything to say?’
Melissa watched her parents, knowing exactly what her mother was thinking, that if he were to offer them money for Violet it would enable them to live well, as never before. The house, which was in such a miserable state of repair, could be done up at long last and the Baroness would be able to buy the latest fashions when she went to town, which she hadn’t been able to afford for more years than she could remember. But knowing how her mother had become deeply attached to her beautiful granddaughter and knowing how Melissa doted on her, she was confident that her mother would support her in her decision.
For just a moment, the softening of the Baroness’s face indicated that she might be tempted if he were to offer significant recompense and persuade her daughter to see sense, as money always won, until the Baron spoke up.
‘Violet will not leave this house,’ he said firmly. ‘My daughter is right when she says there isn’t enough money in the world that could buy her. Life has not been easy for Melissa, I grant you—and Violet’s birth has created its own gossip in the neighbourhood—but she has weathered the worst of it and I am proud of her. Violet is my granddaughter and this is her home for as long as Melissa wants it to be, so let there be no more talk of you taking her away. Violet will not leave this house without my consent.’
Copyright © 2020 by Helen Dickson
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ISBN-13: 9781488065965
The Confessions of the Duke of Newlyn
Copyright © 2020 by Nikki Poppen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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The Confessions of the Duke of Newlyn Page 24
