Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman (29 page)

“I don’t understand how she could have been a nurse,” he said finally. “She was not studying for it when I knew her.”

“I don’t know. There was an application process, an interview. She must have wanted very badly to go.”

“Was she a good nurse?”

She laughed, trying to make light of things. “The men liked her, but I’m not certain it was her nursing skills that impressed them. She had the ability to make even our ugly black dresses look becoming.”

“What might she ask that I should know?” he asked, and she detected the concern in his voice that he’d be unable to keep his affliction from her. “What might come up in conversation?”

“It’s impossible to know. Perhaps it would be best if I am always near when you speak to her so I can fill in any emptiness between you.” And could strive to steer all conversation away from John.

He angled his head thoughtfully, and all the worry that had been marring his features disappeared. “Is that a bit of jealousy I’m detecting?”

“No, of course not. I just . . . I know you prefer that people not know the full extent of your injuries. That’s all.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

He arched a brow.

“Oh, all right. Perhaps I’m a little jealous.”

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“Because sometimes you’re a bit too much of a saint. And I like it much better when you’re wicked.”

She gave him a saucy smile. “Well, then, tonight when we arrive home, I shall do all in my power to be wicked.”

“You’ll be too tired after all this celebrating and dancing.”

“Oh, no, I am too curious.”

“Curious? About what?”

“What it is like to have a knight in my bed.”

His boisterous laughter echoed around them, made a few people stop to stare and smile. “My dear wife, I shall be only too glad to show you.”

T
essa Seymour glided through the ballroom, her head held high, radiant joy making her feel much younger than her forty-seven years. One son possessed an earldom, another a dukedom, and now Stephen had gained a knighthood. Few mothers had sons as accomplished as she. For a terrified girl whose journey into adulthood had begun with a forced marriage to a man far older than she, she had not done too poorly for herself and her boys. Their welfare had always come first, at any cost. She suspected that was the reason she felt such an affinity for Mercy. She could not be faulted as a mother.

Nor as a wife either, Tessa suspected. Stephen was happier than she’d seen him in ages. Two years of ghosts he couldn’t remember were no longer haunting his eyes. He walked with confidence again, no limp remaining as evidence of the wound in his thigh that had nearly taken him from her a second time.

She caught sight of Lynnford standing tall in a corner, observing the festivities. He’d come out of duty, as guardian to her sons, but she knew he would be leaving soon. A higher duty called. She’d once resented that he placed his family above hers. She’d been a silly girl then, full of childish dreams. Sometimes she missed that young girl.

Once she reached Lynnford, she wrapped her gloved fingers around his arm and leaned up to kiss his cheek, his scent filling her nostrils, still enticingly familiar after all these years. “I’m so glad you were able to share this day with us.”

“I would not have missed it. I’m sorry Angela was too weary to attend.”

“She and I must do the waters again. She seemed much stronger after our last visit there.”

“Yes, I believe she was. You’re a dear friend to her.”

“And to you, I hope. You must know I am always here for anything you might require.”

He gave a brusque nod and turned his attention to the gathering. When she looked at him, she saw Stephen. When she looked at Stephen, she saw Lynnford. It was a wonder others didn’t comment on the similarities of their appearance.

“I thought the knighting was a nice ceremony,” she said softly. “Brought tears to my eyes.”

“You, who never cries.”

“I cry. Just not where others can see.”

He studied her for a moment before saying, “I apologize if I ever made you cry.”

She tilted up her chin. “You did, but it was long ago, and I’ve since forgiven you.”

They stood in silence for a long while. She could see Stephen waltzing with Mercy. They made such a lovely couple. As she’d thought earlier, Stephen appeared content. Mercy not so much. She seemed unnaturally pale in spite of the dancing, which had brought a rush of color to her cheeks. Tessa wondered what was going on there.

“He has surprised me,” Lynnford said quietly, his gaze following in the same direction as hers. “I doubted he would ever become a man a father could be proud to call son. But he has achieved that end remarkably well.”

She pursed her lips and gave him the hard glare she had on numerous occasions when it came to his handling of Stephen. “You were always more harsh with him than you were with the others.”

“Perhaps instinctively I always knew he is my son. Why did you never say anything before you thought he was dead?”

“It was so long ago, Lynnie. We were young, and I was not as wise as I am now. Still you’d only just gotten married. Had declared your devotion to your countess. What would I have gained except to make you miserable? You were a man of honor—”

“Who bedded a married woman—”

“After her husband abandoned her bed. Westcliffe cared nothing for me. He had his heir, he had his mistress, who apparently was willing to do disgusting things I was not. You were a joy in my life. And your son was my greatest joy.” She held up her hand. “Yes, I know, a mother should not have favorites, but God help me, I do.”

He grinned. “You never apologize for yourself, do you?”

“I see no point in it. It is a frivolous use of time.” She sobered. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she always had, she always would. But they were not words he’d welcome. From the moment he’d taken Angela to wife, he’d made it clear to Tessa that his loyalties would not be divided. His determination had only made her love him more. “I feel as though there is an ocean of things I should say to you about Stephen.”

“As I said, I’m proud of him.” He touched her cheek. “And I’ve always been proud of you. You hold a piece of my heart.”

But only a piece. While Angela held the whole.

“Duchess.”

Spinning around, she smiled brightly. “Leo. Lynnford and I were just discussing how proud we are of Stephen.”

“As well you should be.” Taking her hand, he brought her fingers to his lips, and she felt the heat of his mouth offering promises for later. She loved about him that he had no qualms whatsoever when it came to displaying where his affections lay. Any other man would have latched a challenging gaze on Lynnford as he staked his ownership, but Leo was not that sort. He gave all his attention to her, treated Lynnford as though he was nothing more than a bit of lint to be brushed away. “I was hoping I could entice you into a dance.”

“I would be delighted.” She turned back to Lynnford. “If you will be good enough to excuse me?”

“Of course. I must be off myself. Angela is no doubt waiting to hear news of the day.” He, too, took her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. She hoped Leo didn’t feel the shiver of longing that traveled through her. What surprised her was that it was not quite as strong as it had once been. Age, she supposed, and the passage of time.

“Do give her my best,” she ordered.

“I will.”

“And tell her that I shall be over to discuss with her when we may next do the waters.”

“I know she’ll look forward to seeing you.” He nodded toward the man holding her other hand. “Leo, do take care with her.”

“I always do.” There was a possessiveness, a challenge to his tone that was not normally there.

After Lynnford strode away, she leaned in to Leo, welcomed the curling of his arm around her. The display was inappropriate, but then she had a reputation for the inappropriate. Now was not the time to worry about it overmuch. “He’s proud of Stephen.”

It was all she needed to say for Leo to understand what she meant, the undercurrent of her words: he was proud of his son. “Of course he is, sweetheart.”

She tilted her head back to study him. “Do you think Stephen should know the truth about his father?”

Leaning down, he brushed a kiss over her brow. “Are you thinking of telling him?”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t know. What if it should cause him to hate me?”

“Then he is not deserving of you as a mother.”

She smiled at him. “You always know the right things to say.”

“Then may I have that dance now?”

She gave him leave to escort her onto the dance area. He always managed to lighten the weight she carried on her shoulders, but this one remained, nonetheless. She would have to determine how best to unburden herself. But not tonight. She wanted nothing at all to ruin the night for Stephen.

A
fter she and Stephen finished their dance, Mercy went in search of Fancy. She had to find her, talk with her, here, now. She spotted her quickly, standing near some fronds. Her nerves knotting, Mercy approached her. “I wondered if you might like to step out on the terrace for a bit of brisk air.”

“I would. Thank you.”

Once outside, they moved quietly to a corner where they would not be seen or heard.

“Your husband seems quite smitten with you,” the woman who’d given birth to John said.

“I love him, Sarah.”

“Fancy. I left Sarah in Paris.”

Mercy nodded. “You left John as well. And me. With no word. For the longest I didn’t know what to do, or if you were planning to return.”

“I’ve never been very good at ciphering,” Fancy said, “but I stood there watching you dance, striving to determine how it was that you
and
Stephen could have a son when it has been but six months since I last saw you. I was also considering the conversation that Stephen and I had and what was not said. Does Stephen know you are not the boy’s mother?”

“I am John’s mother. In my heart. From the moment you placed him in my keeping—”

“Oh, that’s rich. I go through the pain and humiliation of bearing an illegitimate child and you reap the rewards by marrying his father, a knight of the realm.”

“He wasn’t a knight when I married him. You had no desire to marry him. You said so in Scutari. Besides, you are betrothed now, to a marquess—”

Fancy laughed harshly, an unhappy sound reverberating from her throat. “Betrothed? Wherever did you get that notion?”

“You said you were with him.”

“As his mistress. He is my benefactor.”

Mercy hardly knew what to say. Why would a woman choose being one man’s mistress over being Stephen’s wife?

“Don’t look so shocked,” Fancy said. “I’m the illegitimate daughter of a duke. No man with the means to provide for me as I wish to be provided for is going to want to take me to wife. And no man would take me as mistress if I came with the baggage of a child. A man needs to be reassured that a lady in my position knows what she’s about and would not litter the world with his bastards.”

Mercy couldn’t believe the cold, calculating attitude. “But surely you cared for Stephen.”

“He was fun. No more than that.” She laughed lightly. “I can see you still don’t understand. Darling, you wear a string of pearls. I am draped in diamonds.”

But I have Stephen
, Mercy thought. And he was worth far more than baubles and frippery. And she had John.

Fancy turned away from her and gazed out on the lighted garden. “How does my son fare?”

“John is well.”

“Give him a kiss for me tonight, would you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, I’d best get back to Dearbourne,” Fancy said, spinning back around.

Mercy thought she saw a glistening in Fancy’s eyes, but Fancy blinked them back so quickly, she couldn’t be sure.