Wedded for His Secret Child

by Helen Dickson

  ‘Pretty well as I expected,’ Laurence replied. ‘It could have been worse, I suppose. Baroness Frobisher came over as something of a dragon and rightly reproached me most severely for ruining her daughter. I’m not proud of what I did, Antony, and I can’t blame her for being angry—although when I proposed marriage to Melissa she became more amenable.’

  His statement was met with outright disbelief and then irrepressible humour. ‘So, Miss Frobisher has succeeded where many others have failed.’ He did not hide his delight.

  ‘It would appear so.’ Antony had been with Laurence at the Spring Gardens when he had met Melissa. When Laurence had returned from his ride the previous day he’d told him of their encounter—he’d also told him about Violet. To say that Antony and his wife Eliza had been surprised was an understatement. Laurence was pleased when Eliza stressed her delight and her eagerness to meet Melissa. They had known when he set off for High Meadows earlier that he intended to put things right, that he was honour bound to do the right thing by Melissa and propose marriage.

  ‘Eliza will be delighted. She had high hopes that you would marry again one day. All I can say is, thank God! Do I congratulate you?’

  ‘If you wish.’

  ‘Then I do, most heartily. I well remember that night in the Spring Gardens. You had just returned from France after setting your business to rights in Marseilles. You hadn’t been back in London twenty-four hours and already you were eyeing up the fairer sex.’ Antony’s face wrinkled into lines of humour and a wicked twinkle danced in his eyes. ‘You made no secret of your interest in the young woman we now know was Melissa Frobisher—a neighbour of mine had I but known it. I did not recognise her—although I wouldn’t, never having been introduced. So—are you ready to wed again—after Alice?’

  Laurence considered Antony’s question as he avoided his probing gaze. The answer was no, he wasn’t. Widower and self-proclaimed single man from bitter experience, who, ever since the death of his wife and young son, regarded all women as being dispensable and irrelevant. In the wake of the death of his beloved son and the troubles that had erupted in France, his life at the time he had met Melissa was a disaster and there was little he could see in his future that would make it any brighter.

  ‘Whether I am ready or not is irrelevant. I have no choice,’ he replied brusquely. ‘There was a time in my naive youthfulness when I had dreams and yearnings which I carried into adulthood and married Alice, foolishly believing she would make all my dreams of marriage and children come true. How stupid I was, how incredibly gullible.’ Suddenly he grinned, a hint of the old wickedness in his eyes that Antony had not seen in a long time, but the underlying bitterness that had bedevilled his life since his marriage to Alice remained. ‘I thought I might have a few more years of debauchery to enjoy before I settled for one woman, but things change—and Violet is quite adorable.’

  As they made their way to the house the two friends made light conversation. Laurence appeared calm, but appearances could be deceptive, for there was a look behind his glacier grey eyes, like a volcano that was dormant but liable to erupt at any moment. He was used to women falling at his feet. Before his marriage to Alice he’d never been without a beautiful woman by his side and often they’d called him cold-hearted and disrespectful when he’d moved on to someone else. After the tragedy of Alice’s accident, when her carriage had overturned, killing her and their son outright, everyone believed it was this that had made him steer clear of forming any new relationships, but it was something far simpler than that. Laurence had just never met anyone who could hold his interest for any length of time.

  ‘You are to return to London soon,’ Antony said, striving to match Laurence’s long strides. ‘How long before you go on to Winchcombe?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I have business to take care of that can only be done in London. After that, we’ll see. I intend to marry Melissa within two weeks. That will give her time to get used to the idea.’

  ‘Eliza and I are also due to return to London shortly. She wants to extend her wardrobe and you know how she loves to shop.’

  ‘You will be staying at Mortimer House?’

  ‘With my own irascible brother-in-law? Of course we will, Laurence. Eliza sees little of Gerald as it is. I know what he did to you—and I cannot blame you for the way you feel about him, but for Eliza’s sake I must be agreeable towards him.’

  Something savage and raw stirred in the depths of Laurence’s eyes, before they became icy with contempt. ‘Of course you must and thank you, Antony. I appreciate your understanding.’

  Antony and anyone else who knew Laurence and Sir Gerald Mortimer—two men who used to be as close as brothers—were well aware of what had induced the unconcealed dislike between the two; Gerald Mortimer was responsible for the breakdown of Laurence’s marriage to Alice, which had ultimately led to her death. For a long time afterwards everything had ceased to matter to Laurence except the sensation of loss. He’d immediately taken ship for France where he didn’t have to face the shell he’d become nor answer the unanswerable questions of grieving friends and relatives. In fact, he hadn’t entirely wanted to live either. That time was a blur. He’d trusted his future to his business and fate.

  ‘Eliza intends inviting a few neighbours over for dinner one evening before we all go to London, Laurence. Shall we extend the invitation to the Frobishers, do you think?’

  Laurence thought about it and then nodded. ‘Yes, I am sure they would appreciate that. It will also give me the opportunity to get to know Melissa a little better.’

  * * *

  Confused by all that was happening, by the changes that were suddenly turning her life upside down, a listlessness settled over Melissa on the approach to the wedding, unlike her mother who was openly delighted with the developments. It was all turning out far better than she had dared to hope for.

  In a moment of desperation Melissa told her mother of her doubts about the marriage. She would have appealed to her father had she thought she would receive his support, but it would be useless. Life was much easier for him if he went along with his wife’s wishes. He would simply dismiss Melissa’s entreaties and retire to the stables. Her mother, who, unable to think of anything else but preparing for her daughter’s prestigious marriage—more so when a fortune and a title were being dangled in front of her like a carrot to a donkey and was rushing forward instead of back and jumping in with both feet—was adamant that the wedding would go ahead.

  ‘It is all arranged,’ she told her firmly, unmoved by her passionate pleas. ‘Be grateful. If it is love you are looking for, then I advise you to forget it. It is nothing but an unrealistic adoration that renders humans blind to life’s unpleasantries. I am immensely fond of your father, as you know, but I have come to realise that it is wealth and power that protect us from life’s hardships. Sometimes, Melissa, I cannot understand you. I cannot understand why you are against this. Most girls would give anything to marry a man of Lord Maxwell’s ilk with a fortune and a title. From what I understand he could buy his friend Antony Bentley fifty times over and never miss the cost. And his title—the Earl of Winchcombe—is vastly superior to anything I could ever have hoped for. Your marriage will put you at the forefront of wider society.’

  None of that interested Melissa, but she grudgingly realised that marriage to Laurence was the most sensible course to take. She owed it to Violet—and there was no doubt that her parents would benefit from it in the long run. Half the time she was afraid to think about Laurence—certainly to feel more for him than she could possibly help.

  Seeing him again had brought back many emotions and memories, memories to be avoided and ignored, but which could not be denied. Laurence Maxwell was capable of invading her mind in ways that could destroy her if she did not push the emotions down and bury them deep inside her. In truth, she’d wanted to run away when she’d recognised him. She had remembered his smile,
how it had felt for him to hold her in his embrace as if it had been only yesterday. She’d been engulfed with memories of the months she’d spent thinking of him and now there were no words to describe how she felt about him. How could she have known that night in the Spring Gardens that she had sparked a situation that would eventually explode in her face?

  But throughout it all the one thing, the one emotion, that refused to be silenced was regret. She would never regret the birth of her beautiful daughter. She would accept all Laurence was offering for the sake of Violet. But an unknown future loomed ahead for her.

  * * *

  Melissa tried to quell the nervous fears that were mounting inside her as the time for her to marry Laurence drew nearer. She was surprised when an invitation came for her to dine at Beechwood House along with her parents. She shuddered at the thought of it.

  ‘I cannot do it. I cannot face everyone. It’s bad enough when I meet people in the village and at church, having to endure judgemental looks and condemnation—but to be present at a dinner at Beechwood House is a step too far.’

  ‘You can do it and you will,’ her mother said, not to be denied the opportunity or the pleasure of socialising with their more affluent neighbours. ‘Your father and I will be with you and you have the spirit to withstand whatever they will put you through. If you are seen out and about as the future wife of Lord Maxwell, it will soothe the gossip your scandalous conduct has caused and help stem the gossip as to your future until the next unfortunate young lady falls from grace and they will lose interest in you.’

  And so Melissa gave in.

  Chapter Three

  Beechwood House was the residence of the Bentley family. It was the first time the Frobishers had been invited to enter. Situated in a low valley, it presented a stirring sight. The Baron and his family were honoured to be invited as Lord Bentley’s guests. Baroness Frobisher was in her element. Attired in their best finery, they travelled in their carriage, approaching over a hump-backed bridge that spanned a wide stream and approached up a long, curved drive to the front of the house. The closer the carriage carried Melissa to Beechwood House, the more vulnerable and weakened she became, feeling this was very much Laurence’s environment, rather than hers.

  Servants assisted them out of the carriage and escorted them into the house. Looking around her, Melissa stood in the splendid oak-panelled hall already filled with guests—maybe thirty or more—and with servants flitting among them. Some she recognised as neighbours. Those who did not wish to distance themselves from her parents were polite and courteous, but Melissa couldn’t fail to notice the censorious way people looked at her. Painfully aware of the extent of her disgrace, she responded mechanically to the few cold greetings addressed to her.

  Determined to put on a brave face and keeping her head high, in a state of consuming misery she stood beside her parents, watching everyone greet each other, while drowning in humiliation and making a magnificent effort to pin a smile on her face and avoid the malicious eyes that made her skin burn. Being part of such an elite gathering made her realise all the more that an alliance with Lord Maxwell would be a remarkable triumph for her mother. Her nerves were already at full stretch as she watched Lord Antony Bentley approach them.

  After greeting her parents warmly, he then turned his attention to Melissa.

  Melissa dropped a conventional curtsy, lowering her eyes, her eyelashes touching the soft flush which had suddenly sprung to her cheeks. Knowing Antony Bentley was fully aware of the events in the Spring Gardens between her and Laurence made it impossible for her to conceal her embarrassment. Seeming to read her mind and to put her at her ease, he reached for her hand, his handsome, boyish face breaking into a brilliant, reassuring smile and his blue eyes twinkling with delight.

  ‘Your servant, Miss Frobisher,’ he said, bending over and pressing a gallant kiss on the back of her hand. ‘And may I say I am truly delighted to meet you at last, having heard all about you from Laurence—and being neighbours, so to speak. In fact, I’m most surprised we haven’t had occasion to be introduced before now.’

  ‘Thank you for inviting us tonight,’ Melissa replied. ‘It was thoughtful of you.’ She liked Antony Bentley at once. He was both amiable and charming and his eyes sparkled with humour.

  ‘Not at all. Consider this a betrothal celebration if you like,’ he said quietly so as not to be overheard by over-attentive ears. ‘I was pleased to oblige. Ah, this is Eliza, my wife,’ he said, taking the hand of an attractive woman who had appeared by his side. He drew her forward. ‘I am sure you two will become well acquainted. Laurence will no doubt tell you how my wife keeps us all on the straight and narrow,’ he said on a teasing note, casting his wife a fond look.

  Melissa looked at the tall, slender young woman dressed in a fashionable gown of saffron silk, wishing she had paid more attention to her own appearance. Sir Antony’s wife was a pretty brunette, with a delicately arched nose and winged brows over light blue eyes, lively and interested.

  ‘What a pleasure it is to meet you at last, Melissa—I may call you Melissa?’

  ‘Yes—I would like that.’

  ‘Thank you—and you must call me Eliza. Laurence has talked about you so much that I feel as if I know you already.’

  ‘Oh,’ Melissa said, smiling. ‘Well, that must have been very boring for you, so I apologise.’

  ‘Not at all. It’s obvious how much he admires you.’

  ‘Really? Forgive me if I seem surprised. You see—I am sure it will come as no surprise that Laurence and I have been thrown together wholly by circumstance. He—does not know me at all well.’

  ‘There is no need to explain to me how you and Laurence met,’ Eliza said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘when he caught the eye of a pretty girl in the Spring Gardens. I am well aware of it and have to say that it beats the usual, boring form of courtship. But however it came about, I cannot suppress my exultation that, by your actions, it has prompted Laurence to take a more serious interest in marriage once more.’

  Try as she might, Melissa couldn’t suppress her smile. ‘The circumstances were such that he was left with little choice. I—am aware he is a widower, but I know nothing about his first wife.’

  The smile melted from Eliza’s lips and a sadness entered her eyes. ‘I am sure you will come to know all about her in time. Laurence must be the one to tell you about what happened to Alice, but I must advise you that it is painful for him to reflect on the past.’

  ‘So you will not enlighten me?’

  ‘As I said, it is not for me to do so.’ Eliza took a breath and shook her head, as if she wanted to say more.

  There was some history there, Melissa thought, and she was tempted to probe further. But it wasn’t her business and she knew there was no point in pressing Eliza to reveal more than she wanted. If she felt like talking, she would, probably at some time in the future and when they were better acquainted.

  ‘I understand. I would not ask you to betray his confidence.’

  ‘It may surprise you to know that you are the first woman he has shown a serious interest in since Alice’s unfortunate death. I am well pleased that you and Laurence are to be married. I can imagine it will draw considerable attention in London—and at Winchcombe—in fact, it has happened with such speed that I cannot believe it myself. You have a daughter also, I hear. I am eager to meet her.’

  ‘Violet. She is quite adorable, even though I do say so myself.’

  ‘She is very dear to you, I am sure. I understand that you are to go to London the day after the wedding. We will be travelling down ourselves so I look forward to seeing you there before Laurence whisks you off to Winchcombe—which is a beautiful house. You will love living there.’

  Melissa was completely taken with the easy friendliness of this attractive woman and accepted the feeling as mutual as Eliza’s slender fingers squeezed her
own before releasing them and excusing herself.

  * * *

  Laurence stood at the top of the stairs, a solitary, brooding figure looking down with a bored expression on his handsome face at the scene below him, then he saw Melissa enter with her parents and his heart lurched. Though he had made every effort to resist her appeal, he could feel the meagre store of his resolve waning. He paused to observe her. From a distance, witnessing her humiliation at first hand and knowing he had had a hand in her downfall, he realised just how difficult her situation was and was mortified that it was because of his doing. It was indeed brave of her to come here tonight, showing herself in the face of so much hostility. As a result of her transgression, she was at the mercy of an unforgiving society and, had he not offered her marriage, then she would probably have lived out her life in shamed seclusion at High Meadows.

  Attired in a gown the colour of deep rose and decorated with lace and ribbons, which he suspected had been worn on many an occasion, her dark hair gleaming beneath the candles’ glow and drawn up and away from her face and arranged in simple curls, she looked incredibly lovely. But standing behind her parents, she seemed on edge, her face pale. He was glad to see Antony and Eliza make themselves known to her, but seeing how their other guests favoured her parents and shunned her, he was furious. Proceeding to descend the stairs, he managed to appear superbly relaxed, for if he was going to make things right for her it was important to play out a perfect charade and appear casual. Since he couldn’t stop the malicious tongues vilifying her, he had to turn it about, to ensure the attention on her was directed in a way he wanted it to be since she was to be his wife.

  * * *

  Melissa’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Laurence approaching at a leisurely pace, experiencing the thrilling depths to which her mind and body was stirred whenever she was in his presence. Radiating a strong masculine appeal, he was unsmiling, his dark hair and the immaculate black clothes he wore making him seem like a sinister-looking figure indeed. Every inch of his tall frame positively radiated raw power, tough, implacable authority and leashed sensuality. He walked with an easy stride until he stood before them, inclining his head in polite greeting, his silver-grey eyes as clear as crystal. The trouble was, now she had agreed to be his wife, it was as if everything inside her was out of control, but where this man was concerned she couldn’t help herself. She was not unaware that his interest in her had drawn everyone’s attention.