Dearly Beloved

by Mary Jo Putney

  As the groom took charge of their mounts, Diana eyed Geoffrey covertly. She wondered what Gervase's feelings were now that he knew the boy was his son. In spite of her husband's denials, she was sure that he would accept the relationship once he had time to think the matter through. She had watched their growing acquaintance with trepidation and hope, wanting them to get on, fearing they would not.

  The viscount had seemed fond of Geoffrey and the boy was his heir. Would he hold Diana's imagined perfidy against his son? Knowing Gervase's basic fairness, she didn't think so, but his bitterness had been so great that she would not let her husband near Geoffrey until she was sure he would do nothing injurious. She was ambitious for her son, wanted him to have the title and wealth and power to which he was entitled, and which she knew he would carry well. But she would not let him become a pawn in a war between his parents; she would take him to the colonies and raise him alone before she would let that happen.

  Usually Geoffrey groomed his pony himself, but today Diana told him to let the stableboy do it so they could talk. Looking at his mother askance, he dutifully accompanied her inside to the morning room. Stripping off her gloves and laying them aside, Diana said, "Next week I'm going away for another few days, Geoffrey. I'm sorry, but it can't be avoided."

  He scowled. "Can I go with you?"

  She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not." Not when anything might happen between his parents.

  "Why not?"

  How to answer that perennial child's question? While Diana debated, Geoffrey continued pugnaciously. "You're going to visit Lord St. Aubyn, aren't you?"

  She had guessed that Geoffrey's hero worship of the viscount existed side by side with jealousy that the man had so much of his mother's time, and that suspicion was confirmed by her son's expression. Deciding to be casual, Diana took off her hat and jacket and sat down. "Yes, I am. I'm sorry I have to leave again so soon, but this trip is necessary."

  Her son's carefully instilled manners were clearly at war with his desire to throw a tantrum. Diana extended a hand, wanting him to come sit with her so she could talk away some of his anger, but his head started tilting back in the first phase of convulsion.

  He crashed to the floor, his body arching and his tongue protruding. Diana dropped by his side, feeling the terror that always possessed her when he had a seizure.

  She was reaching out to brace his body when her hands froze in midair. She had seen many seizures in her life and this one looked wrong. The desperate gasping sounds and jerking motions were subtly different than usual. She grabbed his shoulders, half-lifting him from the floor as she cried, "Geoffrey, are you pretending?"

  The deep blue eyes that had been rolled back focused on her guiltily and his body flexed normally, without rigidity. More furious with her son than she had ever been in his life, Diana pulled him over her lap and administered several swift, hard slaps to his backside. She had never struck Geoffrey before, and he responded with a howl of hurt and outrage.

  Within seconds they were in each other's arms, both of them sobbing, Diana harder than her son. Rocking him back and forth, she whispered brokenly, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hit you, but don't ever do that again. Yell at me, throw things if you must, but don't ever, ever pretend to have a seizure. You don't know what that does to me. It's... it's not playing fair."

  Geoffrey pulled a handkerchief from his pocked and blew his nose, then said in a conscience-stricken voice, "I did know. That's why I did it." He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. Mama. It was a rotten thing to do."

  "It was rather rotten." Diana blotted her eyes with her own handkerchief, then tried to smile. "I suppose that if we didn't want to do rotten things sometimes, we'd be angels, flitting around heaven with harps and wings."

  Geoffrey's glance held a glint of mischief. "The wings sound rather fun, but there wouldn't be any horses, would there?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Then I prefer being here."

  The moment of levity ended. Diana watched her son mauling the handkerchief and made a decision. Sooner or later Geoffrey must be told Gervase was his father. She had intended to do it later, but perhaps now was the time. Knowing the truth might make the situation easier for him. Putting an arm around her son, she drew him back so they sat against the sofa, their legs stretched on the floor. "There's something I must tell you."

  In spite of her resolution, it was hard to find the words. Stalling, she asked, "You like Lord St. Aubyn, don't you?"

  Her son nodded, looking away from her. Diana drew her breath, then said baldly, "St. Aubyn is your father."

  Geoffrey's head whipped around and he stared at her, shock in his wide blue eyes as he absorbed her words. The silence stretched until he said with stiff lips, "So I'm a bastard?"

  "No!" she said, startled. Obviously her son was learning more than Latin and literature in school. "He and I are married and you are as legitimate as any boy in England."

  "How come you never told me before? Why don't you live together? And why doesn't he act like a father?" Shock was quickly translating into a stubborn determination to know.

  Diana hugged his shoulders. "It's a long story, love."

  She thought for a moment as she decided how much truth was needed by an eight-year-old. "We were staying at the same inn in Scotland. Your father wandered into my room by accident. It was most improper, and... he decided he must do the gentlemanly thing and marry me. However, he didn't really want to be married, so he left after making sure that I had enough money to be comfortable."

  "Why didn't he want to be married to you?" her son asked belligerently.

  "It wasn't so much me as that he didn't want to be married to anyone," she said cautiously, not wanting Geoffrey to blame Gervase for everything. "Your father was set to leave for India to join the army. He hadn't planned on a wife."

  Her son nodded, able to understand that. Diana almost chuckled at the sight of perfect male agreement.

  "So I went to Yorkshire and met Edith, and you know about our life there. It was fine at first, but when you reached school age it seemed like time to move to London, so we could all see something of the world."

  The need for editing increased. She was ready to admit a great deal, but not that she had chosen the life of a harlot, even if she never actually acted as one. "By chance, I met Lord St. Aubyn one night when we visited a friend of Aunt Maddy's. He'd forgotten what I look like and I wasn't using the name Brandelin, so he didn't recognize me."

  "Why didn't you tell him who you were right then?"

  Just like his father. "I didn't want to. He hadn't shown any interest in us. He didn't even know that you had been born."

  "And you were angry?"

  "I'm afraid so," she said ruefully. "I wanted to get to know him better, so I didn't identify myself. But since we had become very good friends, last week I told him who I was."

  Geoffrey swiveled around to face her, his arms around his drawn-up knees. "And he got angry because you hadn't already told him you were his wife?"

  Diana was startled at the accuracy of his perception. Was there something here that men understood and women didn't? "He's furious." In spite of her best efforts, her voice trembled. "He doesn't ever want to see me again. That's why I'm going to Aubynwood. He's having a house party and I was invited, so I've decided to go and apologize."

  "He's making you unhappy," Geoffrey said, belligerent again.

  "Yes, but don't blame him too much," she said swiftly. "I made him unhappy as well, even though I didn't intend to."

  Her son gazed at her with wise blue eyes. "It's like you always tell me. Good intentions aren't enough."

  "Exactly so," she agreed.

  Looking very young again, Geoffrey asked, "What... what did he say when he realized I was his son?"

  Knowing how vital her answer was, Diana chose her words carefully. "He was surprised, of course, and because he was angry, he wasn't quite sure he believed me. But he wanted—very, very much—to believe that you are his
son."

  More silence. Then, "If you and Lord St. Aubyn become friends again, does that mean we would be a family?"

  Diana was shocked by the naked longing in his voice. "I hope so, darling," she said unsteadily, "I surely hope so."

  Geoffrey's brows knit together in calculation. "If you are visiting my father, why can't I go?" He was no longer jealous. Now he also had a stake in Lord St. Aubyn, and a need for him that was as great as Diana's own.

  For a moment she wished she had said nothing. "Lord St. Aubyn is very, very angry at me. There will probably be a lot of unpleasantness."

  His jaw set. "He's my father, and I want to see him."

  "This isn't the best time, Geoffrey. It would be better to wait until he finds his temper again."

  Geoffrey simply sat looking stubborn. Then, craftily, "Maybe he won't be as angry if I'm there."

  Diana sighed and thought about it. Perhaps she was being overprotective again. Geoffrey was intelligent and levelheaded, and he did have a right to see and know his father. And though it seemed calculating to consider it, having their son with her might soften Gervase's anger.

  "Very well, you can come, but you must promise to be polite to Lord St. Aubyn, not get angry with him on my behalf. Matters between us are very complicate, and we've both made mistakes." Since her son looked unconvinced, she repeated, "You must promise me, Geoffrey."

  "Very well, Mama. I'll do my best to behave." The wording was equivocal, but before she could object, he said, "If he's Lord St. Aubyn, you must be Lady St. Aubyn."

  When she agreed, he asked, "Do I have a title?"

  "Not while your father is alive, but you are the Honorable Geoffrey Lindsay Brandelin," she offered.

  Disappointed but philosophical, he said, "No one else in my school is even an Honorable. Jamie Woodlow's father is a knight, but that isn't as good as a viscount."

  "Geoffrey, you must not take this title business seriously," Diana said emphatically. "Are you any different today than you were yesterday, when you didn't know who your father was?"

  After a moment's thought, her son's face split into a grin. "Yesterday I was just an epileptic. Today I'm an honorable epileptic." The idea tickled his sense of humor and he went off into whoops of laughter.

  Diana leaned over to give Geoffrey a hug. With every fiber of her being, she prayed that the breach with her husband would be healed, not just for her and Geoffrey's sake, but because for too many years Gervase had been deprived of the joy of his son.

  * * *

  Since Edith was visiting her sister in Scotland, Madeline volunteered to accompany Diana as nurse and maid. Diana had been reluctant to treat her best friend as a servant, but Maddy pointed out that they were always helping each other with their hair and clothes anyway, and didn't Diana want someone at Aubynwood who was on her side?

  Since Nicholas was out of London and Madeline was bored, Diana finally agreed. It would be good to have her friend's support. Maddy happily pulled her hair into a knot and dug out her most conservative clothes. She couldn't be unattractive, but at least she would draw few second looks.

  Rather than make the trip in one day, they spent the night at an inn two hours south of Aubynwood. Diana calculated that if she arrived at the estate about noon, the chances were good that there would be guests around, making it harder for Gervase to refuse her entrance.

  The idea of forcing herself on him was terrifying, both because he could hurt her so badly and because she must confront again how much she had hurt him. She spoke little on the journey.

  The next morning Diana dressed carefully in an elegantly simple muslin gown with blue trim that matched her eyes. Maddy styled her hair in a soft, thick twist with delicate tendrils curling around her neck and face to soften the effect. She looked every inch a lady and a viscountess.

  Too soon they had passed the Aubynwood gatehouse and pulled to a stop in the horseshoe drive in front of the main entrance. Madeline and Geoffrey would wait in the carriage until it was clear whether Diana had gained entrance for them.

  Wiping her damp palms on her skirt before donning gloves, she said with nervous resolution, "Wish me luck."

  Maddy nodded gravely. Less aware of what was at stake, Geoffrey was cheerful and excited.

  Diana stepped from the carriage and climbed the steps to her husband's house.

  * * *

  Since Gervase was too grimly unhappy to be a good host, it was fortunate that events on the Peninsula kept his guests in a ferment of excitement. Mere days after landing in Portugal, General Sir Arthur Wellesley had won a major battle against the French at Vimeiro, completely unaided by the two hidebound senior officers who were technically his superiors.

  Britain reacted to the victory with joy, then with shock when details of the ensuing treaty were received. The Convention of Cintra removed the French from Portugal, but also repatriated the captured French army in British ships and allowed the enemy to take all of their loot with them.

  Wellesley's brilliant accomplishment was overwhelmed by public furor at the treaty terms, and all three British commanders were being recalled for a military inquiry. Gervase cursed with exasperation as events developed. As the most junior of the commanders, Wellesley had not done the actual negotiating even though he had signed the Convention. It was bitterly ironic that the general's career might be lost in a political melee not of his making.

  At Aubynwood, events were no better. Gervase's guests ate and flirted and rode, enjoying country pleasures while settling affairs of state. The Count de Veseul drifted about with an expression of secret satisfaction. In a fit of perversity, Gervase had invited the decorative and predatory Lady Haycroft, since he was in need of a new mistress, but her highly practiced overtures repelled him.

  He'd also invited Francis Brandelin because he felt the need of having a friend near. Even that was a mixed blessing because he couldn't see his cousin without wondering if the younger man was one of Diana's lovers. He could have asked but did not. He didn't want to hear the answer.

  Talking politics with George Canning was less painful than brooding about his personal life. The two men were descending the main staircase when a diffident knock sounded at the door. The handful of guests milling about the front hall didn't notice, but Gervase snapped to attention when a footman opened the door and he heard the sound of an unforgettable female voice.

  With a soft clarity that carried, Diana said, "Good day, Hollins. Please inform my husband that Lady St. Aubyn has arrived."

  Musical though Diana's voice was, a cannon shot could not have produced a stronger impact. Gervase wondered for a moment if he was hallucinating, if he had been thinking so much of her that his mind had conjured up a phantom, but everyone below was staring at the newcomer, so she must be real.

  Beside him, Canning said, "Well, well, well," on a note of rising admiration.

  Diana stood serenely indifferent to the effect she had produced, a shaft of sunlight gilding her hair, her head high and a relaxed smile on her exquisite face. Gervase watched in shock, feeling a gut-wrenching mixture of black fury that she had invaded his home, reluctant admiration for her effrontery, and aching desire at the sight of her loveliness.

  Hollins recognized her from the Christmas visit, and there was a palpable pause while he evaluated her words. Everyone in the household had known what was going on between the master and the beautiful Mrs. Lindsay, and most had approved. It was quite possible that Gervase had married his mistress without mentioning the fact to his staff.

  Deciding to err on the side of caution, the butler bowed, "I shall inform his lordship." He turned and disappeared from view.

  Lady Haycroft was in the group below. Strange how vulgar her overgroomed blondness appeared next to Diana's gentle beauty. In a voice harsh with surprise, the widow said, "Impossible! St. Aubyn isn't married."

  Diana turned to her with an expression of mild surprise. "Have you ever asked him if he is?"

  "Why... well... of course not." Lady Haycrof
t stopped temporarily at a loss. "Have you just married?"

  "Not at all," Diana said with undiminished good humor. "We have been husband and wife any time these last nine years. I've spent much of that time living quietly in the north. Our son's health was delicate when he was younger, but he is so much stronger now that finally I can join my husband."

  Her voice acid with malice, Lady Haycroft said, "It's said that St. Aubyn has a mad wife locked up in Scotland."

  "Heavens, is that what people say?" Diana gave a sweetly humorous laugh that entranced all the men below. "I never cease to be amazed at how word of mouth can alter even the plainest of facts. I did grow up in Scotland, but I've never been either mad or locked up."

  With delicate suggestiveness, she added, "My husband has often said how much he would like to keep me to himself. Perhaps that's where the rumor started."

  As Lady Haycroft stared in defeated astonishment, Diana smiled graciously. "It was very bad of me not to be here to greet our guests, but I was delayed in Yorkshire. I do hope you'll forgive me. Surely you are Lady Haycroft? My husband has mentioned you to me, and there could not be another blond guest as lovely."

  Game, set, and match. Lady Haycroft inclined her head in acknowledgment, her hostility undiminished, but unable to say anything more without appearing churlish. Gervase might have laughed at Diana's deft handling of the situation if he hadn't been so furious. If he had ever wanted proof of his wife's ability to warp the truth, she was providing it.

  Forgetting his companion, he started down the stairs. At the same time, Francis came into view. He must have heard most of the conversation, because he walked up to Diana and gave her a light cousinly kiss. "Diana, how wonderful to see you. Gervase was not sure when you would arrive."

  Such a greeting by St. Aubyn's cousin sealed her acceptance. The guests began to coalesce around Diana, eager to make her acquaintance and delighted to have been present at an occasion with such gossip potential.

  Gervase reached the bottom of the stairs and stalked toward the group. People turned to stare at him, wondering if something even more interesting would take place.