Lady of Sin (27 page)

His arm held her to him as he looked in her eyes. “You do not care what decision I have made, or even on what question?”

“I care. It was not the choice that I waited to hear, however, merely that you had resolved it.”

“Do you know what the decision concerned? It would be like you to guess.”

“I know it does not involve me directly because you have said it does not. I suspect, however, that it touches on my life both past and present.”

He moved her again so that she straddled his lap and faced him. He cupped her face with his hands. “You have stolen my heart, Charlotte. Knowing your answer to my proposal would not have affected me, and withholding it did not lessen my considerations of you. My love for you was influence enough.”

His declaration both saddened her and made her heart swell with exquisite sweetness. “Was the influence a bad one?” she whispered.

“How could it be bad? Our love does not diminish me or my honor, Charl. It does not obscure the right path, but illuminates it.”

He spoke so honestly that she did not doubt he was correct. In her small way she had been trying to protect him. She had not wanted obligations to her to interfere, to lure him to rationalize a wrong judgment. She had never considered that their love would help him to make a right one.

“What are you going to do, Nathaniel?”

His embrace lifted her so that his tongue could caress her nipples. They had become tight and sensitive from water and warmth and his seductive washing. The sensations made her tremble so much, she thought the water would make waves.

“Right now I am going to make love to my fiancée,” he said. “Then, tomorrow, I am going to return Finley’s ghost to its grave.”

She wondered what that meant for a brief moment. Then the sensuality submerged all thoughts of tomorrow. His mouth teased her breasts until she rocked and cried. He held her firmly, his hands cupping her bottom, and she steadied herself by holding his shoulders.

It was too much. Too intense. Desire maddened her. Nathaniel’s arm braced her back for support, and his free hand slid between her thighs. Slowly, confidently, he touched and caressed spots of unbearable sensitivity. Shudders of pleasure left her boneless, helpless.

Blind now, awareness blurred to everything but the desperate need consuming her, she saw nothing as he flipped her. Then she was kneeling in the bath, the water licking at her breasts. His body hovered over hers, and his arms flanked her own. The position both protected and dominated.

He filled her totally, touching her womb, titillating soft flesh with the best irritation. She met his thrusts with her own. The rhythm of give and take began deliciously slow but escalated as she sought to feel him more. Hardness entered the passion as they soared in mutual ecstasy.

She dipped her shoulders to accept him deeper, to take him into herself as thoroughly as possible. Water soothed her cheek and sloshed around their heat.

A gentle quake of pleasure trembled where they joined. She surrendered to its power as he made it intensify. The quakes continued on and on, rippling with a perfection she savored, until the ultimate pleasure broke with intense, beautiful waves.

Nathaniel normally left before dawn, for both discretion and practicality. He had business affairs to conduct, after all. He did not live only to attend on her.

He did not leave this time. He remained in her bed long after the sun rose. She watched him sleep, his dark lashes feathering his skin and his golden hair mussed on the pillow.

Perhaps he had stayed to celebrate their engagement. Then again, maybe he slept so soundly that he did not realize the hour. It had been a long night of love, after all.

She sat up on crossed legs and just watched him. He had asked if she still negotiated with the past. She would explain to him soon that she honored that past but she lived in the present now, thoroughly. For one thing, she was very sure that Philip would understand this passion. It helped to know that he had not been cheated, and that their quieter melody had been as much his choice as hers.

One of her little reveries claimed her, briefly but intensely, as his presence echoed in her heart. She expected that would keep happening on occasion. It was right that it should. He had been her husband, and they had shared a love.

He had been a good husband too. He had also been a good man who had once tried to protect another woman he loved. She was glad for that. Glad he had been heroic, as best he knew how. It pleased her that for a brief few weeks he had not been so staid.

She gazed at her lover, sprawled on her bed, his muscular limbs firm even in repose. The idea of a life with him thrilled her. The emotion was very similar to fear, just more joyful and optimistic and eager for the mysteries to be explored.

His eyes opened. They stayed unaware for a moment, then he glanced to the window and to the clock. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Past ten o’clock. I hope the servants will not be shocked.”

“I believe they are used to it. There was a thick oilcloth beneath the towels surrounding the tub, so I think there is little they do not expect, and even anticipate.”

He left the bed and walked to a window, indifferent to his nakedness. He parted the drapes and examined the day while she examined him.

“The weather is fair. Let us take breakfast out in the garden,” he said.

They dressed and went down. They sat on two iron garden chairs near a little table, and basked in the sunlight until a simple breakfast arrived. They did not speak much as they ate, but the silence was pleasant. He had never needed words to know everything about her.

Nor had she needed words to comprehend him. Right now she comprehended that he was waiting for something. The energy had never left him, not even in the exhaustion after passion. Here in the garden’s silence it intensified as if the sunlight stimulated it.

A footman came into the garden, salver in hand. Nathaniel’s lids lowered over glowing eyes.

She picked up the card and shot him a glance of surprise.

“Receive him,” Nathaniel said.

She sent the footman away. “You knew he was coming?”

“I told him to come.”

“Do you intend to confront him with what we know?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

The approach of their visitor could be heard. Not only footsteps announced it, but also voices. A low rumbling one, punctuated by another high squeak.

She knew that squeak. She rose to her feet, not daring to hope.

The squeak got louder. It was a child’s voice, asking questions.

Nathaniel sat calmly on the iron chair, drinking his coffee. She caught his eye, and her vision misted. “Thank you, Nathaniel. However you did it, thank you so much.”

The garden door swung. The footman escorted Mardenford outside. A little head peeked around the moving legs.

“Ancharl!”

He darted out of line and ran to her, his little legs working hard. She fell to her knees and opened her arms to him.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

A
mbrose’s joy filled the garden. Charlotte’s happiness matched the child’s. Their reunion moved Nathaniel and evoked images of her like this with other children, their children, and this love multiplied many times.

Mardenford remained rigid, his gaze on his squealing son but his thoughts clearly centered on himself.

The initial excitement calmed. Charlotte embraced Ambrose closely, pressing a kiss to his crown. She looked up at her brother-in-law. “This is a wonderful surprise. It was generous of you to bring him, James.”

She released Ambrose and rose to her feet. The child darted down the garden path, daring her to chase him. She joined the game, letting him win as they ran around bushes and trees.

Nathaniel kept his gaze on their play. “I am glad you chose to accept my invitation and brought the child, Mardenford. It was good of you.”

“Damn you.” The mutter was not nearly as low as it should have been.

“Sit down and have some coffee.”

“I’ll not—”

“Sit.”

Mardenford lowered himself into the other iron chair. Nathaniel did not need to look at him to recognize the mixture of anger and fear in the man. He knew the smell well. It covered accused criminals like a damp, sour mist.

Mardenford retreated into imperious hauteur. “Your letter was damned impertinent, and close to blackmail.”

“I do not want money, but only a conversation.”

“There is nothing to discuss with you.”

“If you believed that, you would not have come, let alone brought your son as I instructed.”

I know about Isabella and her son. Meet me at Charlotte’s house tomorrow at noon. Bring the child.
That was the letter he had sent last night after his father left Albany.

Charlotte was deep in the garden now, on the ground with Ambrose, ruining her dress. Their laughter’s melody rose and fell on the breeze.

Nathaniel tore his attention from them and fixed it on Mardenford. “Have you received a letter from Mr. Yardley?”

“Yardley? My old tutor? Why would I seek out the man, or he seek out me?”

“For the same reason you gave him that living. I met with him five days ago, you see. I thought perhaps he had written to you about it. He said he would not, but one never knows. I suggested it would be in his health’s better interest to visit Scotland for a fortnight or so, but old loyalties die hard.”

Mardenford’s face remained impassive, but his eyes revealed the first flames of desperation.

“It must have been a shock when you received that first letter from Isabella, addressed to Baron Mardenford and intended for your brother. What a complication to learn that she had not died. Or did you know that? It was your report of her death that got your brother on that ship to England.”

Mardenford’s jaw clenched at this evidence of how thoroughly Yardley had been indiscreet. He shot Nathaniel a dangerous glare. “She was a whore. A scheming whore. A false marriage, Philip said. A false wedding, just to protect her. I told him it was madness. The potential for trouble—” His mouth clamped shut suddenly.

“You do not have to parse your words with me. I know all of it. Much more than you would like.”

A wary gaze slid to him. Nathaniel let the mind behind those hooded eyes work its way through just how much “all of it” might mean.

“What do you want, Knightridge?”

“I am sworn to want justice. It is my stock in trade, you might say.”

“You have no proof.”

“I have the boy. I have a signed document from Yardley, in which he reveals all. I convinced him it might be wise to give that to me, in case your bad judgment got the better of you. A type of insurance, you might say.”

He stiffened with indignation. “Blast, what are you accusing? Yardley has nothing to fear from me.”

“I hope not. Forgive me, however, if my experiences in the Old Bailey made me cautious for his sake. He knows too much. It was generous of you not to remove him.”

Mardenford reacted oddly to the peculiar compliment. A sneer twitched on his face. Not generous but cowardly, that sneer of self-disgust implied. “I don’t know why you give a damn about any of this.”

“There is a boy with your family’s blood who spent four years living in a cellar with a half-mad thief. Your brother’s son, as I now know. If you had dealt fairly with that woman, provided some support, I would have nothing to give a damn about now, because I never would have learned about the boy.”

“He has no claims!”

His sudden fury sent his denial ringing through the garden. Charlotte stopped her play and looked in their direction, then Ambrose reclaimed her attention.

“His claim is ambiguous,” Nathaniel said. “It is all ambiguous. That is my conundrum, and why I requested this meeting.” He caught Mardenford’s gaze in his own. “Even what occurred that day by the Thames is ambiguous.”

Fear now. Naked fear. The attempts at covering it with feigned incomprehension did not work.

“Yardley described that meeting to me. Did you lure her down the steps for privacy, or with murder in mind? Did you grab her in a rage, or just to silence her loud denials? Did she lose her balance, or was she pushed? The lawyer in me can see a defense made of those ambiguities, you see. At least one good enough to save a baron’s neck. Maybe.”

“I did not kill her. How dare you—”

“I think you did. I think your anger, so rare but so explosive, burst forth when she would not accept your version of what had occurred in Spain. She thought her son was legitimate. When you told her Philip was dead, she thought her boy should have the title. Your title, your estate, and your fortune were at risk. Even raising the question would have been devastating to your name. The investigation would have humiliated you. Worse, it might turn out she was correct.”

“She could not prove the boy was my brother’s child.”

“If the marriage was found legitimate, any child born within it would be your brother’s child in the law. You know that.”

Mardenford rose abruptly and walked away, as if seeking escape from a trap. Nathaniel followed him over to the wall and trapped him quite literally. “Did you see the boy? See the resemblance? He was there, positioned where you could see him before you went down those stairs.”

“I saw no boy.” Shaky now, he refused to look at Nathaniel. “You are going to do it, aren’t you? Air it all, so the whole world pokes and talks and wonders.” He turned his attention to Charlotte. Renewed confidence produced a smirk. “Then again, maybe not. If it is decided that either marriage ceremony with Isabella was legal, Charlotte was my brother’s whore for three years. Her settlement is gone. Her reputation is gone. She will be humiliated and degraded by the investigation worse than me, no matter what its outcome. If she is more than a whore to
you,
you will not do it.”

“You are a coward to hide behind her.”

“I am protecting her.”

“You are thinking of no one but yourself.” He placed a companionable hand on Mardenford’s shoulder, but gripped hard enough that the face above his hand blanched. “Listen to what I say, and believe it to be true. I do not seek to air this before the world. If you do not accept the resolution I offer, however, I will let it all come out. I will let the Church decide about that marriage, and the lords decide about your title, and a court decide about the day at the Thames. Charlotte’s future will be secure in either case, because she will be my wife.”

“You would not marry a woman so ruined.”

“I would have her if she came to me in sackcloth.”

“She will not have
you
if you do this. Look at her with my son. She will repudiate you if you harm him through me.”

“Now you use your own son as your shield. You disgust me.” He released his hold and barely contained the urge to thrash the bastard. “Come into the house now. I will explain what you must do. Have no illusions that I will spare you if you refuse.”

Ambrose finally tired of running and games. Charlotte sat on the ground and gathered him into her lap. He giggled while he pulled at ribbons and poked her face.

Nathaniel had taken James into the house some time ago. She guessed James was learning about the discoveries they had made. Maybe he was learning about the other things, too; the things that only Nathaniel knew.

She firmed her hold on Ambrose, giving a subtle hug. His visit was a perfect gift. He made her so lighthearted that she did not care overmuch what was being said in the house.

Ambrose began squirming. A sound caught his attention. Scrambling in his clumsy way, he tumbled out of her lap and ran toward the footman who had just entered the garden. A young man, little more than a boy himself, the footman laughed when Ambrose grabbed his leg. He paused and told the child to hold on, then proceeded toward her, carefully swinging the little body that wrapped and clutched his leg.

“My lady, the gentlemen request your presence in the library,” he said, dutifully ignoring how Ambrose demanded a longer ride.

“Will you please take my nephew to the housekeeper? Tell her I will come for him shortly.”

“I could bring him to the kitchen, if you prefer. Cook enjoys the little ones.” His glance down at Ambrose suggested that the housekeeper would find this active, loud little one not much to her liking at all.

“I will defer to your judgment.”

He turned to retrace his steps. Ambrose’s squeals filled the air as the footman lugged his weight along.

Charlotte entered the house through the morning room’s terrace doors and went up to the library. Nathaniel and James waited for her there. They stood silently, as if one chapter of time had finished and they anticipated the page’s turn to the next one.

James looked her way briefly and blankly. She sensed he chose not to see her, or anything.

A peculiar pause ensued.

“I have been summoned, but no one has anything to say?” she asked.

“Mardenford has quite a bit to say, don’t you, Mardenford? I think he hesitates because it requires a great favor from you.”

“I would be happy to help you any way that I can, James.”

Mardenford smiled weakly. He was not a happy man. No doubt it embarrassed him to request a favor of one he had so recently insulted.

He walked over to the desk. A stack of papers rested atop it. A lot of writing had been done during their meeting.

His face lengthened. His mouth pursed. He gazed past her, at nothing. “I have decided to go abroad. I have agreed . . . I would be grateful if you would allow Ambrose to live with you until I return.”

“Nothing would give me more pleasure, James. You know that.”

He lifted a paper from the table. “I put it in writing, that he be allowed to stay with you while I am gone, so the family cannot object.” He gestured to the other papers. “There is another one there, to my solicitor, and documents establishing a trust for the boy, so his expenses can be met.”

She glanced at Nathaniel. He watched impassively but his gaze pinned James in place.

“A trust? How long do you intend to be away?”

“Some time, I expect. I really do not know.” He cast a glare at Nathaniel but the flame of rebellion was extinguished by Nathaniel’s cool stare. “It will be a great adventure. I am due one, I think,” he muttered.

She asked for more particulars and received very few. This great adventure would commence immediately, however. James did not even plan to take Ambrose home with him.

“I will send his nurse, for now. You can then make what arrangements you wish.”

“I do not know what to say, James. I am grateful for your trust.”

He gazed at her, taking all of her in. His attention lingered on the stains her dress had received in the garden. “Yes. Well, do not spoil him.”

“I will try not to.”

Silence fell. James continued looking at her. Nathaniel quietly cleared his throat, breaking the awkwardness and jolting James out of whatever sad reverie had claimed him.

“Oh, yes, and the house. It is yours again, if you want it. I acted rashly, and since Ambrose will be living with you—”

“Thank you, but I do not think I will return there. It would be best if you sold it. I have concluded I stayed there overlong, you see. Wherever I go, I promise Ambrose will be comfortable and well loved.”

James glanced at Nathaniel in question. Nathaniel shrugged.

“Well, that is settled.” James barely voiced the words. They emerged on a deep exhale of breath. “I will take my leave now. I do not expect I will see you again before I sail.” He moved abruptly, walking resolutely to the door.

She moved so he had to walk past her. “James.”

He stopped.

“Ambrose is in the kitchen, if you want to say good-bye,” she said.

He nodded dully. She stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Take care, dear brother.”

He grasped her hand in both of his and kissed it. He strode from the room. She watched the door close on his back.

Nathaniel silently watched the end of the performance. She knew that he had managed this little drama, however.

“He will not return to Britain soon, will he?” she asked.