Fortune's Gamble (Fortunes of Fate, #3)

by Bold, Diana

  Christian cringed at the thought of what Rebecca was going to think of his newly acquired bastard son. He’d deal with that next. “I gave her one hundred pounds, and she promised to go to London and never return. I let her know in no uncertain terms that if she caused problems, she’d be dealt with very harshly. I don’t think she’ll say anything.”

  Theo sighed, shaking his head in mingled dread and exasperation. “I tried to keep her from causing a scene, but she was hearing none of it. I told you that you should have gone and seen her in person.”

  “Why? So she could know even sooner that I wasn’t Andrew?” Christian snapped.

  “No! So that she wouldn’t accuse you of being an imposter in front of Lady Rebecca!” Theo fired back, getting angry as well.

  “I think I can smooth things over,” Christian said, hoping he spoke the truth. He’d seen the suspicion in Rebecca’s eyes as he’d left the room.

  “Well, you’d better. We need her dowry too badly, especially now that you’ve given that strumpet one hundred pounds.”

  “How do you know she’s a strumpet?” Christian glared at his uncle, thinking he, of all people, should not jump to conclusions. “What if Andrew did to her what our father did to my mother? She may have had no choice in the matter. As much as I despise what she tried to do, the fact that she left Sammy here, I can’t fault her for being a survivor.”

  Theo stepped back, the anger fading from his face. “You’re right. We don’t know what Andrew did to that woman, and we can’t punish the boy for what his father did either.”

  “I mean to see him taken care of,” Christian said stubbornly. “He is my nephew.”

  “You see yourself in him,” Theo said sagely. “I understand. I feel the same way about you. But this woman makes a risky situation ten times worse.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Christian asked with a sigh. “What would you have had me do?”

  “I don’t know.” Theo shook his head. “Everything is getting so complicated.”

  “Well, no matter what happens, I’ll never take you down with me,” Christian told his uncle quietly. “I don’t want you to worry. This all falls upon me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Theo replied grumpily. “We’re in this together, son. I won’t let you fail. This is just a temporary bump in the road.”

  Christian couldn’t control the pleased little thrill that went through him when his uncle called him son. Perhaps, more than anything, he’d embarked upon this charade because of the chance to be near Theo. He supposed that he’d missed having a father figure in his life. Though Theo could sometimes annoy him, he had no doubt that the man only had his best interests at heart.

  “Well, my fiancée is still waiting in the dining room, so I’d best speak to her.” Christian pushed away his maudlin thoughts, knowing that he still had a lot of explaining to do tonight and having no idea how best to accomplish it. “Can you please have her come in here so I can try and fix this?”

  The little boy in his arms suddenly went lax, and he looked down to see that Sammy had fallen asleep against his chest, his long dark lashes lying softly against his rosy cheeks, a lock of black hair falling over his forehead. Christian could have been looking at himself as a child, and he felt another surge of affection for this boy he barely knew.

  Theo actually gave him the hint of a smile. “Good luck. I fear you’ll need it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Nearly half an hour passed after Andrew left with his mistress before his butler entered the dining room. Rebecca and Sabrina had already finished their meal, and the servants had cleared the dishes away. Rebecca was working on her third glass of wine, and her exasperation and unease were growing by the moment.

  “Will you come with me, milady? The viscount would like to have a word with you in his study.” The butler looked a bit flustered, which didn’t calm her at all, since the man was usually the model of English stoicism.

  Rebecca exchanged a questioning look with Sabrina, who gave a small shrug. Obviously, she needed to speak with him, but hurt and anger surged within her. What could he possibly say that would make this better? With a sigh, she got up and followed the butler out of the room and down the hall.

  “Go easy on him, milady,” the butler urged, as he stopped before the door to Andrew’s office. “He’s... having a hard time of it as well.”

  She gave the man a surprised look, stunned that he’d spoken to her so familiarly and also that Andrew had managed to build such loyalty with his servants. Before she could think what to say, the butler opened the door and then bowed and turned away.

  Andrew sat on a small sofa in front of the fireplace, and to add to her shock even more, he held the small boy in his arms. The boy seemed to be fast asleep, his beautiful face lax and peaceful. However, tears still clung to the boy’s long lashes, and the lad’s mother was nowhere to be found.

  She slowly walked into the room, her heart pounding in her chest. What was going on here?

  “I’m sorry for that,” Andrew said softly, obviously trying not to wake the boy.

  “Sorry for which part exactly?” Rebecca asked, the liquor having loosened her tongue. “Are you sorry that she caused a scene? For the fact that you have a mistress and a bastard child?”

  Somehow, she managed to keep the biggest accusation of all from escaping though. Are you even really Andrew Bradford?

  “For all of it,” he answered after a long pause. “When I returned, I tried to break it off with her by sending her a note. That was not well done of me. I should have gone and seen her in person.”

  “Yes,” Rebecca said, not willing to let him off so easily. “You certainly should have.” She let her gaze shift to the child. “What is he still doing here?”

  He gave a helpless shrug. “She threatened to take him to a workhouse. Said he would hamper her finding a new protector. She didn’t seem to care for him at all. Her own child. I couldn’t let him go to one of those horrid places.” His liquid green gaze implored her to understand. “He’s mine, Rebecca. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  Her heart suddenly softened, and she found herself sitting beside him, staring down at the sleeping boy with mingled dismay and curiosity. “No, I don’t suppose you could.”

  He sighed. “I don’t know how it will work, having him here. But I plan to put him in the nursery, hire him a nanny. I’ll raise him just the same as I would any children you and I might have. If that’s a problem for you, you need to tell me now. For I won’t allow him to be mistreated, shunned because of things he had no control over.”

  She swallowed thickly, uncertain how she felt about that. Could she deal with having this reminder of Andrew’s past here underfoot all the time? But the moment the thought occurred to her, she knew how ungenerous and selfish she was being. No matter what had happened between Andrew and that woman, this child was certainly not to blame.

  “He looks like an angel,” she said softly, reaching out and brushing a lock of silky black hair, so much like Andrew’s, off the boy’s forehead. “He’s beautiful, just like you.”

  Andrew glanced up at her. “You’re... not angry then?”

  “Of course, I’m angry,” she snapped heatedly. “But I promised that I’d try to put the past behind us, didn’t I? And what kind of a woman would I be if I blamed this sweet little boy? I certainly don’t think it’s fair to hold you responsible for the things you did before you ever had any intention of marrying me. He looks old enough that he must have been conceived before you and I were even engaged.”

  “He was,” he murmured, ducking his head. “I hope you know that I was... a different person then.”

  “Who were you?” she asked, letting all her doubts hang on those few words. What was he saying? Was he admitting that he was not Andrew?

  “I was stupid and young, and I didn’t understand how my actions would affect the future,” he said quietly, but from the look in his eyes, she could tell that he understood what she’d act
ually been asking and was evading the question. “I promise you that if you decide to go ahead with this marriage, I will always be the man I am now, and you will never have to deal with the fool you got engaged to.”

  She caught her breath, staring at him as though for the first time. Maybe she’d thought him better looking than she remembered because he was not the man she’d last seen. But the resemblance was so remarkable... they’d have to be twins... or at least brothers... “Are you Jonathan Bradford’s son?”

  Relief filled his eyes. “Yes,” he said, and she had no doubt he was telling the truth in this, at least.

  So... a bastard perhaps. She supposed that would explain his fierce determination to help the boy in his lap. Her eyes filled with tears at this, at the strength of character it would take to raise this boy if he didn’t have to.

  But then what had happened to the real Andrew? Was it so very wrong of her that she didn’t much care?

  She swallowed, unsure of what to do next. If she was right, and this man was the old viscount’s bastard, then how could she marry him? However, she liked this man, and she had never liked Andrew. Should she just allow him to continue with the charade? What would happen to her if the truth was ever found out?

  “Rebecca...” He leaned forward, touching his forehead to her own, the intimacy of it taking her breath away. “I know this is a lot to process. I know that Sammy adds even more complications. But please... know that I care for you. That I will never touch another woman as long as you are mine, and that I will fill the role of Lord Trowbridge to the best of my ability.”

  She lifted her hand to his smooth cheek, pulling a bit away and staring into his fathomless green eyes. Who was he really? She still wasn’t even sure that he wasn’t really Andrew and had just experienced a sea change of epic proportions.

  “I care for you, too,” she whispered. “I’m so confused.”

  “I’m confused, too.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.

  Clearing her throat, she pulled away. How could she trust a man when she didn’t even know who he truly was? He was talking in riddles, and she couldn’t think when he was this close to her. She needed to go home, get a good night’s sleep, and then think hard about everything that had happened tonight.

  “I must go,” she told him. “I have a lot to think about.”

  “Yes,” he said, sounding resigned. “I think that’s fair. I was worried you wouldn’t even hear me out. But do you still want to marry me tomorrow?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I just need some time to think.”

  “I understand.” He pulled her in for a quick embrace, and she clung to him, wondering if she could really let him go, no matter who he was.

  REBECCA HAD THOUGHT that after a good night’s sleep, she’d be able to think more rationally about the situation, but sleep wouldn’t come. After tossing and turning for several hours, she gave up and simply laid there staring up at the ceiling, wondering if she were losing her mind.

  The man she’d come to care so much about during the last few weeks was not Andrew Bradford. She knew it deep within her soul. There was simply no way a man could change so much, whether he’d gone to war or not. Besides, if anything, she thought suffering through a war would make a man angry and bitter, not kind and caring.

  She still couldn’t get the sound of that woman’s voice out of her head. “Where’s Andrew?” She’d been looking right at him when she’d said it.

  Should she tell her father her doubts and let him try to get to the bottom of it? Or should she bite her tongue and let this man... this imposter... keep pretending to be Andrew Bradford?

  If her father knew there was even the slightest possibility that the man who’d come home from the war was not Andrew but instead his bastard half-brother... there was no way he’d ever let her marry the man. He’d ruin him, have him dragged away in handcuffs and shackles. For a man like her father, blood was everything.

  But so what if he was a bastard? Did that make him any less Jonathan Bradford’s son? That was the one question he’d answered directly, and she’d believed him when he said that he was indeed the man’s son.

  She tried to imagine who he might be, how he’d grown up. He spoke well, and he had good manners, but perhaps that could be learned. Did having been born without the sanctity of marriage make him less of a man?

  If anything, she thought him more of a man than Andrew had been. He seemed sober and intelligent, focused on making Trowbridge Manor profitable. And if he wasn’t Andrew, then that put tonight’s events in a completely different light. When Andrew’s mistress had shown up, he’d tried to break things off with her. When she’d threatened to put his nephew in a workhouse, he’d taken the boy in as his own instead.

  Tears filled her eyes again when she thought of how tenderly he’d held little Sammy. He didn’t even know that little boy, but he’d decided to give him his protection, at great risk to himself and the charade he’d been trying to perpetuate.

  But how could she think of him as a good man when he was trying to fool her, trying to fool everyone, by pretending to be Andrew? He’d somehow stolen Andrew’s life, which was the selfish, greedy act of a criminal.

  And if he wasn’t Andrew, then where was Andrew? She had a feeling that something had happened to him. This man wouldn’t have a chance of succeeding in his charade if there was a chance Andrew could return at any moment.

  So... something had happened to Andrew while he was in Belgium, and this man had seen an opportunity. He looked like Andrew, and Andrew had been gone for so long...

  Could she spend the rest of her life with such an opportunist? And what if the truth came out after they were already wed? Obviously, that woman last night had immediately known the difference. Rebecca imagined that he had paid her off. But he’d said he’d take care of the little boy, and she doubted that Andrew would have, once he’d found another woman to warm his bed.

  She supposed another option would simply be to try and get her father to break the engagement without telling him her suspicions. However, that would definitely ruin her reputation, and she wasn’t sure even her father could manage to secure another marriage for her then. And it was her duty to marry, to provide her father with an heir. Plus, she knew it would be very tricky to accomplish such a thing as her father never listened to her.

  No matter which way she looked at it, the entire situation was untenable. She didn’t want to live a lie, but she’d come to care for him so much. With him, she could see herself living the kind of life that she’d never dared to hope for before. He actually cared about her opinions and his kisses curled her toes.

  If the engagement between them were broken, could she ever find another man who made her feel as he did? Somehow, she didn’t think so.

  She rolled to her side and pulled her knees up to her chest, struggling to find a comfortable position when her mind was spinning. What was she going to do? She doubted the answer was going to come to her tonight.

  Yet tonight was all she had. For she was supposed to marry the imposter tomorrow.

  Chapter Ten

  Christian dressed resolutely for his wedding the next morning, in a finely tailored dove-gray suit. Theo helped him with the snowy white cravat. Little Sammy sat on the edge of Christian’s bed, regarding him with those wide green eyes, though he hadn’t said a word since he’d awoken this morning.

  Christian had slept with the boy tucked against him, his mind whirling with the possible outcomes of last night’s actions. He had no real belief that Rebecca would actually show up at the chapel this morning. What he didn’t know was whether she’d choose to tell her father of his lies.

  He honestly expected to be arrested as soon as he stepped outside Trowbridge Manor. But if there was even the slightest possibility that Rebecca would give him this chance, when she almost certainly knew that he was not Andrew... Well, he was far too invested to give up now.


  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Theo muttered. “Perhaps we should take the boy and everything of value and leave the country.”

  Christian gave his uncle a half-smile, trying to ignore how much the idea appealed to him. “We’ve come too far to turn back now. Besides, I told you that I wouldn’t drag you down with me.” He cast a quick glance toward Sammy, then lowered his voice. “If the worst happens, if I’m arrested... You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”

  Theo glared at him. “Of course, I will. But why are you being so stubborn? Let’s just go now. Remove the possibility of you being arrested altogether?”

  His heart swelled at his uncle’s loyalty. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I love her, Theo.”

  Theo shook his head, blinking rapidly as he turned away. “You’re a fool, son. A damned fool.”

  Perhaps Theo was right. No, he knew Theo was right. But it no longer mattered. The die had been cast, and he was gambling his heart and quite possibly his life on the outcome. He could only hope that Rebecca took the gypsy’s advice and followed her heart. He’d spend the rest of his life making his deception up to her, if only she’d give him a chance.

  He crossed the room and knelt beside Sammy, looking the boy in the eyes. “I have to go out for a while, Sammy. But Uncle Theo is going to take care of you, all right, son?”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Are... are you really my f-father?”

  It was the first thing the boy had said to him, and a swell of emotion rose up inside him, the fierce need to protect and love this little boy until he forgot all the horrors of his past. “I am,” he whispered. “I know it’s hard to understand, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you before, but I’m here now.”

  Sammy nodded jerkily and then flung his little arms around Christian’s neck. “Come back soon... Papa.”