A Scandalous Wife Page 7

The next few weeks were spent in complete bliss. Lydia would breakfast with the children before sending them off to the schoolroom with Miss Mitford. She spent her afternoons furthering her acquaintances with the local gentry, and was delighted to realize she had been openly accepted in the community. Her dinners were spent with Robert, Miss Mitford, and Luke. Though she and her brother-in-law were still wary of each other, she felt they had formed a sort of uneasy truce.

  But that truce came to an end one sunny June afternoon in the library. Lydia had gone to find a book on gardening, hoping that she might learn something helpful on the hobby since she was so poor at it. Instead, she discovered Miss Mitford wrapped in Luke’s arms in the midst of a passionate kiss.

  The lecher!

  Lydia couldn’t help but gasp. The two would-be lovers flew apart and Miss Mitford rushed from the room without so much as a look behind her. Lydia narrowed her eyes on her brother-in-law and took a determined step toward him. “How dare you take advantage of that girl in this home?”

  In the past, Luke would have turned on his handsome smile and tried to charm himself out of whatever trouble he was in. But it seemed that he simply wasn’t in the mood to play those games today. “That girl knows exactly what she’s doing.”

  “Yes, well, I remember thinking the same thing where you were concerned.” She pursed her lips together. “Against my better judgment, I let Robert talk me into letting you stay here, but I won’t let you do to that poor girl what you did to me.”

  Luke scoffed. Loudly. “I’ve got news for you, Lydia. No one lets Robert do anything. Regardless of whatever hold you have on my brother, I doubt very much that has changed.”

  “Weren’t you only going to be here a few days, Luke? It’s now been weeks. I’m sure your tarts and gambling buddies must be missing you.”

  Now, Luke grinned charmingly, but it was all an act—and they both knew it. “Am I to take it that you’ve grown tired of my company?”

  “I certainly meant no offense, but—”

  “Oh, Lydia, you meant offense, all right. But don’t trouble your pretty little head over it. I’m not going anywhere. At least not until I figure out what you’ve done to Robert.”

  “What I’ve done to Robert?” Lydia took a hesitant step backward and stared questioningly at Luke. “I’ve not done anything to your brother.”

  She didn’t look quite right. Her face had grown a bit pale. He must have shocked her with his boldness. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage and get the truth out of her. “Oh, come now, Lydia. You and I both know that you’re not who you pretend to be.”

  “Not who I pretend to be?” she echoed with a frown.

  Truly, she was an excellent actress.

  “And now after all these years, you and Robert are suddenly in each others’ pockets? You’re after something, Lydia, and I intend to find out what it is.”

  She staggered back and slowly shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking ab—”

  But she wasn’t able to finish her statement. Instead, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell, cracking her skull against the corner of the bookcase as she collapsed in a heap on the floor. For just a split second, Luke gaped at her in complete shock. Then he rushed to her side and yelled loudly for help.

  Sweet Lucifer, he’d never seen that coming.

  When he touched her cheek, Lydia’s eyes flickered open and she started to rouse, though it was clear she was dizzy and unable to focus on him.

  “Sweet Lucifer, Lydia. Are you all right?” he whispered in concern. He’d wanted to get answers from her, but he hadn’t meant to knock her unconscious. Then before he knew what had happened, Lydia’s face took on a mortified expression of either shock or fear—he couldn’t tell which—and she cast up the contents of her stomach all over his Hessians.

  Damn it! Those boots were brand new. Realization struck Luke like a bolt of lightning.

  Good God! Lydia was pregnant.

  All the puzzle pieces fit together now. The little whore was trying to pass off someone else’s child as Robert’s. She must have had to get into the earl’s good graces quickly, so that the fool might actually believe the child was his. Luke’s pulse pounded in his head as anger set in. She was even more devious and deceitful than he’d first thought. But this—this was unconscionable. Robert didn’t deserve this.

  “I’m s—so sorry,” Lydia stuttered as she wiped tears away from her eyes. Color slowly began to return to her face. Then she struggled to sit up, but ended up lying her head back down. Gingerly, she touched a bump that was forming on the side of her head.

  Luke shook his head, stood, and backed away as if he’d been burned. “You won’t get away with this,” he growled.

  Dunsley hurried into the room and a look of horror crossed the old man’s face when he saw the countess sprawled across the floor. “Lady Masten!” The butler rushed forward and helped Lydia get back to her feet.

  Still dumbfounded, Luke stumbled backward and then fled the library.

  Lydia soon found herself dressed in her long cotton nightrail and lying in bed—tucked in like a sick child. Betsy applied a cool cloth to her forehead and calmly explained that a footman had already been dispatched to find Lord Masten.

  Kistler paced in the corner of the room and Betsy turned her attention to him and ordered quietly, “Jon, go fetch a new pot of tea, and ask Cook to add a pinch of ginger.”

  Normally, the prickly valet would have bristled at an order from the maid, but he looked relieved to have something to do. He nodded and then fled the room.

  Lydia closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “Ginger?” she asked quietly.

  Betsy nodded knowingly. “It helps with the nausea, or at least old Mrs. Trumball—she’s a midwife over in Lulworth—says it does.”

  Midwife? Lydia groaned and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t be able to keep her secret anymore. And she had wanted so badly to be absolutely certain of her condition before she told Robert. What if she was wrong? She didn’t want him to get his hopes up over nothing.

  Then she remembered the strange argument she’d had with Luke before she fainted and all that had come after that. Had she actually gotten sick on the poor man’s boots? How dreadfully humiliating! She didn’t think she could ever look her brother-in-law in the eyes again, not that she was anxious to see him anytime soon.

  There was a soft knock on the door. Weakly, she nodded for Betsy to answer it, which the maid promptly did. With a concerned look, Miss Mitford stood on the threshold with a tear-stained face and her hands clasped together tightly. “Oh, Lady Masten, we just heard you were ill. The children wanted me to make sure you’re all right.”

  Lydia smiled and held out her hand to the girl, the earlier scene with the governess and Luke long forgotten. “Miss Mitford, please tell the children not to worry. I will be fine. After I’ve regained my bearings, I’ll stop by the schoolroom to see them.”

  Miss Mitford nodded. “Very well, my lady.” Then the governess slid away.

  Betsy closed the door and walked purposefully back to Lydia’s side. Hands on her hips, the maid shook her head at the countess. “Visiting the schoolroom? I don’t think his lordship will approve, my lady. At least not until Doctor Grant has had a look at you.”

  Lydia struggled to sit up and tried to look sternly at her maid—but it was hard when she knew the girl was only concerned about her welfare. “For goodness’ sakes. It’s just a bump on the head, Betsy. I’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not the bump I’m talking about, Lady Masten, and you well know it.”

  Lydia blushed. Up until now, she hadn’t realized that anyone else might know her secret. “I’m not certain of anything yet, Betsy.”

  “Oh? And just who do you think empties the chamber pots in this room, my lady? You’ve been sick every morning for nearly a fortnight.”

  “Betsy!” Lydia sputtered in shock. She couldn’t believe her maid would mention such a vile thing.

&n
bsp; “Don’t Betsy me. You and Lord Masten share a bedchamber. It was just a matter of time.”

  “Well, even if you’re right, there’s no reason I can’t simply visit the children in the schoolroom. I’ll have you know that my mother cooked and cleaned every day until my sister was born.”

  Betsy shook her head with a grim determination. “Dunsley has already sent for Doctor Grant. And until his lordship says you may leave that bed, I’ll watch over you myself. And if not me, then Kistler.”

  Lydia sighed tiredly. “Very well. I’ll wait for his lordship.”

       

  Panting, Robert rushed through the front doors of Gosling Park. The second footman had tracked him down in the stables and told him that something was wrong with Lydia. He’d left the poor man in a cloud of dust and sprinted back to Gosling like he was on fire. A somber looking Dunsley met him in the front entryway. “I’ve already sent for Doctor Grant, my lord.”

  Robert nodded, as if in a trance. Lydia had seemed fine when he left her that morning. How could something have hit her so suddenly? The thought of his wife being ill and in pain made his stomach churn.

  He made his way quickly down the corridor toward the staircase that led to their room, and he wouldn’t have stopped for anything but he heard yelling coming from a small parlor at the end of the hallway.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Juliet! It’s hardly the same thing.” It was Luke’s exasperated voice. Robert frowned and started in that direction.

  Before he could open the door, it flew open on its own and Robert was very nearly knocked to the floor by the fuming governess. “Just stay far away from me, Lucas.”

  Miss Mitford didn’t even acknowledge Robert’s presence as she stormed down the corridor. He stared after the departing governess and then turned his attention on Luke, who now stood before him. This was the very last thing Robert needed right now. He glared at his brother and then turned on his heel toward the staircase. “We will discuss this later, Luke.” Robert gestured in the direction the angry governess had gone.

  But Luke chased after him and grabbed his arm. “Actually, Robert, I need to speak with you right now.” And then he began to haul Robert inside the parlor.

  Robert shook his head. “Something’s wrong with Lydia. We can discuss your attempts to seduce members of my staff later.” He tried to free himself from his brother’s grasp, but Luke’s hold on his arm only tightened with determination.

  “I’m not trying to seduce anyone. And nothing’s wrong with Lydia. She’s simply with child.”

  With child.

  The statement was blunt and simple. Robert stepped backward, stunned. And then he grinned and nodded like a fool. “I must see her.”

  “Damn it, Robert!” Luke growled. “You need to hear me out first.”           

  Robert could barely concentrate. Was it possible? Was Lydia really carrying his child? He had to get to her. But damn it if Luke wasn’t successful in pulling him into the small parlor.

  When Luke firmly shut the door behind them, he spun around with a painful expression. “This is important, Robert.”

  Exactly what kind of trouble had Luke gotten himself into with Miss Mitford? Robert heaved a sigh. Dealing with his brother was the last thing in the world he wanted to do just now. What he wanted was to be was at Lydia’s bedside, but his brother seemed unusually determined. So he figured the best thing to do was stop wasting time, listen to whatever Luke had to say, and then climb the stairs to Lydia’s bedside. “Out with it then. I want to see Lydia,” he barked impatiently.

  Luke took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to be made a fool of by your wife, Robert. She isn’t who she appears to be, she never has been.”

  Robert furrowed his brow. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “I honestly never wanted to have this conversation with you, Rob. But I can’t keep my mouth closed anymore—not when you’re the one who’ll suffer.”

  This didn’t sound good. Robert was fairly certain he didn’t want to hear whatever it was Luke meant to say. “Can’t this wait, Lucas? I really need to get to my wife.”

  Luke looked anguished and harshly rubbed his own brow. “Haven’t you ever wondered, Robert, why I fled Staveley’s after Lydia and I were caught together?”

  “Actually, no.” At the time, he’d been so angry with Luke, the why hadn’t really mattered. “I just chalked it up to you being you.”

  Bitterly, Luke laughed. “Yes, your confidence in me has always been overwhelming.” Then he started pacing. “All these years you thought I’d ruined and abandoned her. But you should know that’s not the way it was, Robert.”

  Truthfully, Robert wanted to forget the incident at the Staveley’s had ever even taken place. If he’d spent any real time dwelling on the fact that Luke had touched Lydia, that he’d had her in his bed, Robert would have gone stark-raving mad with jealousy. So, he certainly didn’t want to rehash the particulars of that situation with his brother. Especially not now, while Lydia was waiting for him. “I don’t know what this is about, Luke, but I don’t think there’s any question about whether or not you ruined Lydia. Staveley found the two of you together. And really, there’s no point in discussing it now.”

  Luke smiled—not the charming smile he usually wore, but a pained expression that was instantly disturbing to Robert. “Oh, I bedded Lydia. I’m not denying it. But I didn’t ruin her. Someone before me enjoyed that privilege.”

  Robert felt his blood run cold. Why would Luke utter such a vile thing? And how could he keep himself from murdering his own brother?

  “I wasn’t about to marry her,” Luke continued, unaware that his life was in serious danger. “Why should I be tied to her for the rest of my life, when someone else had ruined her? But then you jumped in there to save me from disgracing the Beckford name and married the little whore in my stead.”

  Robert’s jaw tightened and his steely gaze narrowed in on Luke. “You will refrain from speaking ill of my wife. Because you’re my brother, I’m going to pretend like we never had this conversation. And then—”

  “Yes, go ahead and live in your dream world, Robert.”

  It took all the self-control Robert possessed not to strangle the life out of his brother right then and there. God knew the bounder deserved it, but at the moment he was more concerned with Lydia’s welfare and getting to her side. Robert started for the door. “Leave Gosling Park and don’t come back, Lucas. Not ever.”

  But Luke sidestepped in front of Robert. “I’m not done.” He squared his shoulders and pressed on. “It was all an act, Rob. She pretended to be an innocent and virginal. I was completely fooled by her. And let’s just say I’m more than a little dubious about the paternity of this child of hers. I think I’ll hold off on my congratulations, Robert, to see who the child looks like first.”

  Robert glared at his brother, literally shaking with fury. There were parts about his wife’s life he was sure he knew nothing about. However, if Lydia was with child, Robert had no doubt that he was the father. After all, it was Robert who had forced Lydia back under his control. It was Robert who had asked Lydia live with him at Gosling Park. And it was Robert who had convinced Lydia to give him his heir. Of course, none of that was information that Lucas was privy to, and with good reason.

  But the incredibly insulting conclusion that Luke had come to was disturbing on many levels. The first was that his reprobate of a brother seemed more sincere and earnest than Robert could ever remember him being before.  But most importantly, the poison that spewed from Luke’s mouth was precisely why his brother couldn’t stay here any longer. If Luke remained at Gosling, his vicious words would distress Lydia and would hurt her further. And that, Robert couldn’t allow.

  He started for the door again. “It must be hard for you to realize that you won’t be my heir, Lucas, but I’m sure you’ll get used to the idea.”

  Luke laughed cynically. “It’s not my greed that makes me dub
ious, Robert, but my intimate knowledge of the Lady in question.”

  Robert snapped. In the blink of an eye, he had his hands wrapped around his brother’s throat and growled through clenched teeth. “I don’t ever need to be reminded again that you once shared a bed with my wife.”

  Luke pulled at his hands and gasped for breath. “Rob!”

  With a force he didn’t know he had, Robert shoved his brother out of the way. “You lying bastard, if you’re still here by the time I finish checking on my wife, I will kill you.”

  Robert stormed from the parlor and sped up the stairs to his chambers. He took a deep, steadying breath before he pushed open the door and saw his wife resting peacefully in their bed. Betsy was shaking out one of Lydia’s dresses and smiled with relief when she saw him.

  Robert nodded to the maid. “Betsy, will you find Dunsley and ask him to call for my brother’s coach? Mr. Beckford has decided return to London. I believe he’s in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Right away, my lord.” The maid left the dress laid out across a chair and hurried toward the door.  

  “And bring Doctor Grant as soon as he arrives.”

  “Yes, of course.” Betsy smiled reassuringly at him before she shut the door behind her.

  Finally alone, Robert crossed the floor in three strides, his brow creased with concern. He took her delicate hand in his. “Oh, darling, I was so worried about you. I came as fast as I could.” Then he pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. “How are you?”

  Lydia smiled tentatively. “It’s just a bump on the head, Robert. I’ll be fine.”

  A bump on the head?  Robert frowned. Luke had been insistent that she was with child—insultingly so. “How did it happen, sweetheart?” He tilted her face toward him so he could examine at the goose-egg sized bump on the side of her head.

  Lydia softly answered, “I—I fainted and hit my head on a bookcase in the library.”

  He couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his face, or the excitement in his voice. “You fainted?”

  She nodded sullenly. “I’m afraid I got sick all over your brother’s boots. The whole thing was very embarrassing.”

  Robert now grinned from ear to ear. To hell with Luke and his damned boots. “Oh, God, Lydia! Do you know what this means?”

  Finally, Lydia smiled sheepishly. “I’m not sure of anything yet, Robert. I don’t want you to be upset if it’s not what you’re hoping for.”

  Lydia might not be sure, but Robert was certain. He’d always heard that expectant women had a glow about them, and Lydia positively glowed. “You’ve made me the happiest man in all of England.”

  He threw off his coat and looked around the room. The windows were open and the curtains were moving with the sea breeze. “Are you comfortable, darling? I’ll shut the windows, if you’d like. Or is there something I can get you? Anything you need at all?”

  With a cheerful giggle, Lydia reached her hand out for him. “I’m perfectly fine, Robert. You don’t need to fawn all over me.”

  Robert winked and then grinned devilishly. “Oh, my dear, I can’t wait to fawn all over you.” He plopped onto the bed next to his wife and gently pulled her into his arms.  “From now on, I’ll be by your side every waking moment. I’ll make sure that all your wants and needs are taken care of.  And—”

  “Enough, you silly man.” Lydia placed her finger over his lips.

  He nipped lightly at her finger and then kissed her softly. “I do so love you, Lydia.”

  As he held his wife and breathed in the scent of gardenias, Robert realized how much he had changed. In the past, he would have fretted over Luke’s warning and worried about what his brother meant by saying such things. Before he knew Lydia he’d have even believed Luke’s vicious lies. But now—now none of it mattered. Lydia was his and he was hers and there wasn’t anything his brother could do or say that would change that fact.

  Upon his return to London, Luke met briefly with Mr. Cooper of Bow Street and promised the Runner that he’d deal with Lord Ridgemont. It felt as if he was giving in to Louisa Ridgemont’s manipulations just in doing so, but his time in Dorset had taught him a lesson: he needed to get his past in order.

  Amazingly, when he finally spoke with the baron and explained his past friendship with Lady Ridgemont, the man thanked him for his honesty and promised to deal with his wife. When he left the grand Ridgemont home on Park Street, he felt like a free man—at least more free than he had been. The troubling goings on in Dorset still bothered him.

  Luke found himself alone in his rooms in Piccadilly, sulking as he had been for a week. How had he let things go so badly with Robert in Dorset? Robert, who’d raised him. Robert who’d always been there for him no matter what. Robert who’d pulled Luke from more scrapes than he cared to remember. Sure, his brother would lecture Luke and badger him to change his ways, but he had always been there regardless—until now. Robert had never before told him he wasn’t welcome at Gosling Park, not to come back. The loss of his brother’s affections was something Luke had never considered, and now that it had happened, he felt like a part of his soul was missing—though truthfully, he’d been feeling that way for quite a while.

  If it hadn’t been for William, young Lord Haywood, Luke would have stayed holed up in his rooms. No one would have ever believed that of him, but he just didn’t have it in him to socialize. It was pointless. But Haywood had been adamant that Luke follow him from one gaming hell to another, certain that his luck was just about to change. What a fool! But try as he might, Luke couldn’t talk the young baron off of his self-destructive path.

  Begrudgingly, Luke agreed to accompany his young friend—mostly just to keep Haywood out of trouble. Luke had enough guilt on his conscience at the moment. He didn’t need to add to it, and the young whelp was certain to get in over his head if someone wasn’t watching after him.  

  This was why Luke now walked around the current hell they were in and raised his glass to more than one old friend or ex-lover. This was what his life had come to—spending time around drunken sods, gambling nabobs, and brazen women. Damn, he hadn’t wanted to come here tonight!

  Remorse and regret were new sensations for Luke. And for his part, he wasn’t too keen on it. His entire life, he’d been an unrepentant, selfish, self-serving bastard. Hadn’t those been Juliet’s exact words to him?

  Lady Juliet St. Claire.

  It was most difficult keep the stubborn, prissy duke’s daughter from his mind. Why the devil was his Juliet masquerading as Gosling Park’s governess? The willful chit wouldn’t tell him a thing, though he’d tried his damnedest to get it out of her. He shouldn’t have sworn to keep her identity a secret, but he foolishly had. And his memories of her were slowly driving him insane. Best not to think of any of that. She’d made it quite plain on his last day at Gosling that she wished to have nothing else to do with him—just like Robert had.

  Luke downed a good portion of the whiskey in his hands and sank into a seat close enough to the hazard tables that he could keep Haywood in his sights. He leaned back and glanced around the room. Then he lost himself in his own thoughts and contemplated the situation he now found himself in.

  Up until now, he’d been satisfied with his life. Wine, women, and song—who would complain about that? He’d been quite content with his self-indulgent lifestyle. His actions had really only ever affected himself—or so he thought. The incident with Lydia at Staveley’s five years ago… Well, that had affected Robert, hadn’t it? Usually when Robert was forced to save Luke’s neck, he only had to throw his influence at whatever the problem was—but this time Robert had been forced to give up his own future.

  Luke and Robert had never been particularly close. They ran in different circles and never saw eye-to-eye on much, but they were family. And as Robert had saved Luke time and time again, Luke now felt like a cad for getting Robert into this situation with Lydia in the first place. He never dreamed his brother would feel obligated to mar
ry the little tart. But he had. And now the situation was worse. Now she’d pass off someone’s bastard as Robert’s legitimate heir.

  Luke should have told him the truth about Lydia years ago, but it had seemed pointless. By the time he found out that Robert had married the girl, it was too late.

  In truth, Luke didn’t care about not being Robert’s heir, not really. The stress of the title and obligations, well, that just wasn’t something Luke had ever wished for. He’d been happy with his own lot and didn’t want Robert’s life. He certainly didn’t want it now.

  An attractive female friend, one whose name Luke didn’t even remember anymore, slid on to the settee next to him. She smiled coyly and ran a tantalizing finger along his jaw. Luke frowned at the hussy and pushed her hand off him. He wasn’t all that fond of his own life at the moment.

  In a snit, the woman stormed off. Luke drained what remained of the whiskey in his glass and sank back in his seat with a sigh. He would never have believed in a million years that his conniving sister-in-law would have been able to wrap Robert around her pretty little finger in so short a time. His brother was a besotted fool, and he just couldn’t clearly see his wife for what she truly was. It made Luke sick to think about it. And how disheartening to realize that his own selfish act had landed his brother in this precarious situation.

  But what could he do now? He tried to warn Robert. He tried to tell him the truth. But the bloody love-sick dolt wouldn’t pay him one bit of attention. Damn Lydia Masten to Hell. Robert didn’t deserve whatever she had planned for him. And while he was at it—Damn himself as well. It was, after all, his fault that his brother was in this trouble to begin with.

  “Lucas?” a soft feminine voice asked at his side.

  Luke turned his head and grinned up at an old familiar face. Cecily Rigsley dropped into the seat next to him, and she smiled. Now, why hadn’t Robert made things work with her? She was much more his brother’s type—long legs, slender frame, thick brown hair and dark eyes. “Evening, Cecily.”

  Cecily reached across her seat and took his hands in hers. “Why, Lucas, whatever has you so distressed, my dear boy?”

  Luke usually held his cards fairly close, but he surprised himself when he began to tell her his troubles with Robert. And he was relieved to realize that it felt a bit better to get the pressing weight off his chest, so he held nothing back—well, nothing about Lydia.

  Cecily listened with great interest and a consoling ear. “His wife?” she echoed in surprise. “Is that the little flame-haired chit I spied him with at Drury Lane?”

  “Flame-haired? I suppose it was.” Luke nodded miserably.

  “I wondered who she was. At first I thought perhaps she was Astwick’s newest light-o-love. But since his mother was present, I figured that wasn’t the case. But for God’s sake, Lucas, I never would have dreamed that slight little girl was Lady Masten.”

  “Her looks can be deceiving,” Luke admitted sullenly.

  “And Robert is truly smitten with her?”

  Was there a jealous edge to Cecily’s voice? No, of course not. She and Robert had been finished long before Lydia entered the scene. “Blinded is more like it, and it’s all my fault, Cecily.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Robert is a grown man. You can’t be held responsible for his choices.”

  “But I know her, Cecily. I know that she’s passing off some lover’s child as Robert’s. I don’t mind being passed over by a legitimate heir, mind you, but it is a bit nauseating to think that some buck’s by-blow will take my place in line.”

  “Don’t be so distraught.” Cecily caressed his folded hands. “Perhaps the child is Robert’s, after all. He’s not a fool, your brother.”

  Luke held her dark gaze. “You’re very kind, Cecily, but I know what I know. Why did Robert ever leave you?”

  She frowned and looked down. “Your brother can be a very unforgiving man. I said some things I shouldn’t have when I was a bit foxed. And, well, that was the end.”

  Through his alcohol-induced haze, Luke nodded glumly. It was coming back to him now. But slowly. He blinked and tried to remember the exact circumstances. Ah, yes, he seemed to recall that Cecily had taken up with Lord Audley after some blowup she’d had with Robert at Vauxhall. Audley had been put out over losing a promising bay to Robert on the stocks, and had taken great pleasure in relieving Masten of his mistress as a consolation prize, of sorts.

  By the time Cecily had realized that Audley had no intention of making their friendship a permanent one, Robert had already washed his hands of her. Yes, her desertion was not something Robert would forgive easily. And really none of it mattered anymore, anyway. His brother was in so deep with Lydia that it made Robert’s days of sparring with his mistress at Vauxhall looked like child’s play. “Thank you for your ear, Cecily. And if it’s any comfort, I think Robert was a fool to let you go.”

  “You are such a dear, Lucas.” Her eyes sparkled with delight as she stood and happily left him. Why was that? Luke shook his head, nothing made sense anymore.

  An audible “Aw,” was heard from the hazard table. Luke’s head popped up and he refocused on Haywood. His young friend’s shoulders were slumped forward and his head was bent in defeat. Damn. How much had he lost now? Honestly, the boy didn’t have anything else to lose except for his horseflesh.

  When Robert heard a child laughing over the sounds of the ocean, he knew he was getting closer. He followed the stone path to the sandy beach behind the castle and spotted them. Lydia sat on the ground with her legs tucked neatly under her skirts, smiling as she watched the children. Penny jumped bare-footed and drenched in the surf, giggling happily, and Peter knelt on his knees, digging a hole in the sand with a rock. What a beautiful picture they all made together.

  As Robert grew closer, he heard Lydia speaking to Peter. He wasn’t one normally to eavesdrop, but he just didn’t want to interrupt this sweet domestic scene, and his presence would do precisely that.

  “Thank you for being patient with her, Peter. I hope you never lose each other.” Lydia smiled wistfully.

  “Like you lost your brother?”

  She nodded her head. “Oh, Henry is out there somewhere.” She pointed to the sea. “And I just hope that wherever he is, he’s safe.”

  An idea struck Robert, and he smiled. He could do that. It was quite simple really. He had to go to London anyway, so while he was there, why not drop off a note at the Admiralty? He knew Lydia’s rift with Lieutenant Warner bothered her every day. Perhaps he could help. She had changed over the years, perhaps the lieutenant had as well. Perhaps their relationship could still be salvaged. And if not, nothing was lost, as they had nothing now. But this would be successful; he could feel it in his bones.

  Robert stepped forward and cleared his throat. Peter stood at attention and let the sand in his hands fall through his fingers. Lydia smiled at Robert and started to get up, but he rushed to her side and helped her to her feet. “Darling, don’t tax yourself.”

  Lydia giggled and smoothed his coat across his chest. “I am perfectly capable of standing up, Robert. I’m not an invalid.”

  He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “If you don’t want me to leave, say the word, sweetheart, and I’ll stay. It’s just a horse. There’ll be another.”

  She stood up on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips against his. “I don’t want you to leave. But you’ll only be gone a few days, and I’ll have plenty to keep me busy while you’re away. Besides, I know how much you want that stud.”

  Penny came in from the sea and threw her arms around Robert’s leg, soaking him completely through. Instantly, the image of Carteret covered in blue paint flashed through Robert’s mind. Months ago when he’d spoken with the Scottish earl, he’d envied the man’s beautiful wife and loving family. He now had that himself, and how wonderful it was. He laughed and picked the soaking child up in his arms and placed a kiss on the top of her brown curls.

  “Are you leaving now?” th
e girl asked with a pout while a tiny tear ran down her cheek.

  He smiled and tousled her hair. He couldn’t love the little girl more if she was his natural child. “I’m afraid so, imp. But I’ll be back before you know it.” Robert put the girl back on the ground and sank to his haunches to speak to Peter. “I’m leaving you in charge, young man. Make sure Lady Masten gets enough to eat, and plenty of rest.”

  Peter nodded in response, “I’ll take care of her, sir.”

  “I know you will.” Robert patted the boy’s back. Peter had grown so much in the last few weeks. He spent his days in the schoolroom with Miss Mitford and his afternoons in the stables, doting on Star Dancer and Gardenia. He’d even worked up the courage to brush one of the stallions the other day. Robert was very proud of the boy.

  Both children had come so far from the scrawny little pick-pockets Lydia had found. They seemed settled and happy—safe. And their studies were coming along nicely too. They never dropped their h’s anymore and their diction was much improved. So far, Miss Mitford had done a remarkable job with her charges.

  Robert turned his attention back to his wife. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. He hadn’t been away from Lydia since the day he’d forced her back under his roof in London, and so much had happened since then. He would miss her desperately. It was only for a few days, he knew that in his mind. But his heart…well, that was another thing altogether. He’d become so accustomed to holding her every night as they fell asleep, and Robert dreaded this separation. How foolish he’d been to ever think he could live without her.

  But there were things that needed to be done, things he had to do in London. It would be a quick trip. He’d acquire Devil’s Inferno, check in with Mr. Birch about the status of the adoptions, and leave a letter for Lieutenant Warner with the Admiralty. Then he’d hurry back to Dorset, to his wife and their children.

         

  When Phelps saw the Earl of Masten’s coach stop in front of his Berkeley Square home, the elderly man took a deep breath and opened the large door for his lordship. The earl had left London so quickly last time he was in town, and the butler wasn’t quite sure what to expect from his employer.

  But his lordship bounced up the front steps with a happy gait, not what the old man had anticipated. Phelps couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but there was something a bit different about the earl from the last time he’d seen him—a softening perhaps.

  Robert offered his hat and cane to his butler with a smile. “Evening, Phelps.” He nodded and stared toward his study.

  Phelps cleared his throat. “Lord Masten, both Lord Astwick and Lord Clayworth are awaiting your arrival in the parlor.”

  “They’re both here?” Robert was aghast. “Last time I checked they each had homes of their own.” He frowned and made his way to the parlor.

  He threw open the door and stood in amazement at his two dearest friends. They were drinking his whiskey and laughing together, just like old times. It was Chet who first noticed Robert and stood up. “Ah, there you are. We were just starting to worry about you.”

  Yes, they seemed like they were terribly worried, laughing and drinking as they were. “What the devil are you doing in my home?”

  Chet raised his glass in a mock toast, though he addressed Brendan. “After all this time, with virtually no word from him, and that’s how he greets us.”

  Brendan stood and crossed the floor to shake Robert’s hand. “We knew you were due in tonight. Forgive us for making ourselves at home in your absence.”

  “Speak for yourself, Clayworth. Don’t apologize for me. Now sit down, Rob, we want to hear all about it.” Chet motioned toward one of the brocade chairs in the room as he flopped back down on the settee behind him.

  Robert furrowed his brow. It was often hard to keep up with Chet’s train of thought. “What exactly do you want to hear all about?”

  Chet’s laugh boomed throughout the room. “We want to know about your progress, Robert. Rumor has it you’ve installed your pretty wife at Gosling Park? Do tell all, old man.”

  Robert didn’t want to grin. He didn’t want to encourage Chet, but he couldn’t quite help himself. “My progress is none of your business, Chester. But to answer your question, Lydia is living with me in Dorset.”

  Chet winked at Brendan. “Didn’t I tell you he’d win her over?”

  Brendan nodded and took a sip of his whiskey. “You say a lot of things, Astwick. I only pay attention to about half.”

  Chet brushed Brendan off with a dismissive waive of his hand. “Then you undoubtedly miss the best parts.” He turned his attention back to Robert. “Now, out with it Rob. We were there from the beginning. We have right to know. How go things with your wife?”

  Robert shook his head and finally took the seat Chet had motioned to earlier. “Shouldn’t you be looking for a wife of your own, Astwick? You spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about mine. I should warn you I am a very jealous man.”

  With a snort, Chet responded with an unconcerned shrug. “Now that I believe. But I live vicariously through you, Masten. I’m dying to know if you’ve made a real marriage out of it after all. I have a wager riding on it with Clayworth.”

  Robert threw his head back and laughed. “I have no doubt which side you took, Chet.”

  “Well, any fool could see that the two of you had a spark of sorts. You just needed some time alone so the spark could ignite to a smoldering blaze.”

  “A smoldering blaze?” Brendan repeated in disgust and rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why you can’t find a bride.”

  “I don’t see you progressing toward that eventual end either, Clayworth.”

  “I’ve been there before, Astwick. I have no intention of being caught in the parson’s mouse trap again.”

  Robert laughed. He had missed his friends. In truth he only saw them sparingly, since he spent the majority of his time at Gosling Park, but the three of them had been friends for so long that it was easy to fall back into their comfortable camaraderie.

  They spent the next couple hours catching up, and after a while Robert leaned back in his chair and grinned widely. “The two of you need to come to Dorset for a visit. But you should probably come sooner rather than later. With Lydia’s present condition she won’t be able to entertain much longer.” He’d like for Lydia to know them as he did, just as he wanted Lydia to share everything with him.

  “Her present condition?” Brendan asked with a raised brow.

  But Chet laughed loudly. “So you did the job! Good show, Robert, and congratulations. I’ve always thought Chester was a fine name, by the way.”

  “You would.” Brendan smiled then threw back the rest of his whiskey. “Now are we going off to play hazard, or not?”

  Robert shook his head. “Not me. I’ve got Tattersall’s in the morning, then a meeting with my solicitor, and an errand for Lydia in the afternoon. I’d like to start for Dorset after that—”

  Chet jumped to his feet with a cheeky grin. “You’ve become old and boring now that you’re a happily married man.”

  “You said I was old and boring when I was a miserably married man,” Robert retorted.

  “Well, that was true too.” Chet dropped his glass on the side table and started for the door with Bren fast on his heels. “See you in Dorset, if not before.”

  “Thank you for coming over, uninvited, and drinking my whiskey.” Robert stood and ushered his friends out of his home. “But do come to Gosling Park. I’d like you each to get to know Lydia better. My life has never been so rich.”

  “Oh, if I could only be so lucky.” Chet smacked Robert’s back.

  And with that, his two friends were gone and Robert was alone. The last time he was here in Berkeley Square, he’d decided to embark on this amazing adventure with Lydia. Things had certainly changed since then.

  Robert paid a bit more for Devil’s Inferno than he wanted and spent a bit more time at Tattersall’s than he’d intended,
but in the end the prized stallion—once a winner at Ascot—was his. Arrangements were made for the horse to be sent to Dorset, and Robert went about accomplishing his other chores.

  Mr. Leland Birch saw Robert immediately upon his arrival at the offices of Amherst and Birch, though the solicitor was taken aback by the sudden and unannounced visit from the earl.

  Robert’s hardened gaze took in the solicitor’s appearance. Mr. Birch was a young, auburn-haired man, dressed in dark blue with a severely starched neck cloth. He wore a pair of thin wire-rimmed glasses on his face. Robert didn’t know Leland Birch well. The man had recently taken over for his now-retired father, who’d served the Earl of Masten well over the years. But this delay in Peter and Penny’s adoption did not present a good beginning for the young solicitor in the earl’s eyes. “Birch, I want those adoption papers, and I want them now.”

  The nervous solicitor pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose and took a deep breath. “I have been working as quickly as possible to complete your adoption of Peter and Penny Harris, Lord Masten. I just need more time.”

  “You’ve had ample time. What is the hold up?” Robert narrowed his eyes on the young man before him.

  “Y—yes, well, I’m just waiting for one last document, from the coroner that declared Miss Mary Harris dead. But that man is currently on holiday, visiting his daughter in the Cotswolds.”

  “And you’re not there tracking him down because…?”

  Birch’s eyes grew large inside the frame of his glasses. “I—uh—was just on my way, sir.”

  More likely the dolt hadn’t thought of it on his own. Why hadn’t his father given the young buck more guidance?

  Birch started clearing items from his desk into a satchel at the base of his desk. “I’ll find Mr. Potter in Gloucestershire and get this entire matter resolved in a trice, my lord.”

   “Make sure that it is, Birch. This thing has gone on quite long enough, and my wife doesn’t need any undue stress at the moment. I don’t like having to come to London to seek you out.”

  The solicitor swallowed. “O—of course not, my lord.”

  “So, let me make myself plain, sir. If I don’t have those documents on my desk in Dorset within the week, then you’ll lose both me and my retainer, and I’ll find someone who can get the job done.”

  Mr. Birch looked as though he might pass out from holding his breath, but he simply nodded and grabbed his satchel from the desk.

  Satisfied that he’d finally set a fire under the man, Robert made his way to the Admiralty. However, by the time he arrived, the office was already closed for the day. Damn if he didn’t have to spend another night in London.

  He knew, of course, that he could cut his losses and go home to Gosling Park, but then he wouldn’t be able to speak with anyone at the Admiralty office about Lieutenant Warner. He could leave the letter delivered, but this was too important to trust to chance. One more night away from Lydia and the children wasn’t so bad. If he could help bridge the chasm between Lydia and her brother, it would be worth it.

  Robert directed Henderson to take him to his sister’s home in Curzon Street. If he was going to be in town, he may as well pay a visit to Caroline. She would want to learn his news, and hearing it in person would be better than reading it in a letter. Besides, if it wasn’t for Caroline’s ball he might not have come across Lydia. What a tragedy that would have been.

  “Oh, Robert!” Caroline warmly greeted him in her drawing room, and then threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “What are you doing back in London? I thought for sure you’d spend the summer in Dorset.”

  Robert kissed his sister’s hand, directed her to the settee, and took a seat beside her. “Caro, I have news.”

  Caroline bit her lip nervously. “Is it Miss Mitford?”

  Robert furrowed his brow and shook his head. Why would she think his news was about the governess? “No, Miss Mitford is fine. Actually, she’s done wonders with Peter and Penny. Thank you for finding her.”

  Caroline breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, I am so glad that worked out. What is your news then, darling?”

  Robert smiled broadly. “Congratulate me. In a few months, I’ll be a father.”

  Caroline smiled and squeezed his hand. “So the adoption’s gone through then?”

  Robert scowled. “Not yet. That dolt Birch has been dragging his heels. I should have sent Staveley over to see him weeks ago.” But then his face softened and he smiled joyfully. “But what I meant, Caro, is that Lydia is expecting.”

  Caroline’s eyes grew the size of saucers and she clapped her hands together in joy. “Oh, Robert, that is wonderful! Truly wonderful!” Then her face dropped and she spoke nearly a mile a minute. “How is she feeling? I can’t believe you left her in Dorset at a time like this. Why did you leave her? Did things not work out with the two of you? Oh, I’d so hoped they would. What did you do? Perhaps if I write her, I can convince her to take you back.”

  Robert rolled his eyes, laughing at his sister. Caroline was always so melodramatic.

  “What is so funny, Robert?” she demanded, her arms folded indignantly across her chest. “I hardly think this is a laughing matter.”

  “My dear Caroline, where to begin? Lydia is doing fine. She is still a bit queasy in the mornings, but Doctor Grant says it won’t last forever. I came to London for a horse and I’ll start back for Dorset in the morning. And there is no need for you to write her on my behalf, things between us could not be better. You were right all along, my interfering little sister. I am quite happy that Lydia is my wife. In fact, I can’t imagine my life without—”

  He stopped because a tear was trailing its way down his sister’s cheek. Robert smoothed it away with the pad of his thumb, smiling at her. “Oh, Caroline. Truly, I can’t imagine my life without her.”

  Joyfully, Caroline squeezed his hands and grinned. “You’ve made me very happy, Robert, very happy. Thank you.”

  “No, thank you for inviting her to your silly ball, and for not warning me in advance.”

  Caroline giggled and she sat up straight. “Robert, does Lord Carteret know?”

  Robert shook his head. “Outside of you and the staff at Gosling, no one knows. Well, Luke knows, but he wasn’t all that happy about it.”

  “You saw Luke?” she asked innocently, a tone that should have made Robert suspicious—but he simply shrugged off her question.

  “He spent several weeks at Gosling Park this spring.”

  Caroline furrowed her brow. “But what about Miss Mitford? Did he know she was there?”

  Robert frowned. Both of his siblings seemed inexplicably interested in his governess. Very strange, that. “Is there something going on with my governess that I should know about?”

  “No,” Caroline hastily answered. “She worked for my good friend, Lady Teynham is all. You remember her? Well, before Georgina died I promised her that Miss Mitford would be well taken care of.” Caroline stood and paced around the room.

  “Miss Mitford is perfectly safe, Caroline, I assure you.” He thought it best not to mention the kiss Lydia had witnessed between the governess and Luke, or their argument that he’d stumbled upon himself. For some reason Caroline seemed overly emotional about the entire situation and he didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was.

  If Robert thought his sister would make any sense out of the situation, he would have pursued the conversation further. But, truthfully, Miss Mitford’s circumstances weren’t a concern for him. She had done a marvelous job with Peter and Penny, and someday he was sure she’d be a fine governess for the child Lydia was carrying—and that was all that mattered to him.

  But Caroline had said something that caught his attention. She had asked about Carteret. Lydia’s family should know their joyful news too, though it didn’t seem right for him to tell them. Perhaps, something else could be worked out.

  Robert was waiting at the front door to the Admiralty when they
opened. The clerk at the front desk was quite helpful. He gladly looked up the information on Lieutenant Warner’s ship, The Intrepid. According to the naval clerk, the frigate was still at sea, but was due back in England sometime within the month. That was good news, indeed. Lydia and her brother could reconcile long before the baby was due.

  The naval clerk took Robert’s letter and promised to have it delivered to the lieutenant when he returned from sea. With a broad smile and a lilt to his step, Robert left the Admiralty and started back for Dorset.