The Bridegroom and the Baby

by Marcy Stewart

  “It is?” His eyes were smoldering into hers now. Nervously, she moved backward a fraction of an inch and felt the settee’s wood arm at her spine. “What would you recommend I think about instead?”

  “I ... I believe ... probably that you should—”

  His lips quietened hers. Shocked, she made a feeble effort to pull away. Instantly, his arms slid around her. She could feel every movement of his fingers through the thin layers of cloth at her back. She melted toward him, her flesh singing at his touch.

  I have been kissed before, she thought, the sensations flowing through her body making her mad with pleasure, but never like this.

  After a dizzying interval, she pulled away from him, gasping. “Ethan—”

  “Madeleine,” he whispered, his voice husky as he moved to bring her into his arms again. His eyes were unknowable, saturated with desire.

  She fought her true wishes and turned from him, straightening her wrap primly. “That is quite enough, my lord. If you do not stop, I shall have to leave.”

  Slowly, he withdrew his arms. “Have I offended you?”

  “Oh, no,” she said immediately, and touched his hand briefly to show how much she meant it. Had he offended her? She had just experienced the best few minutes of her life! “No, you have not.”

  “You must forgive me. I suppose I have had too much to drink. Makes a fellow forget his inhibitions.”

  She gave him a sharp look. “I see. I’m grateful you told me the true reason you felt moved to kiss me.”

  A slow smile lit his face. “The true reason is that I find you irresistible. I didn’t lie to you; I’ve only had the one glass. I only said so to see what you would say.”

  “Are you playing with me, my lord?” she asked indignantly.

  “Not half as much as I’d like,” he replied, his eyes on her lips.

  Heart thundering in her ears, she ripped herself from the settee to stand several feet away. “You ... overwhelm me. Our acquaintance is not long enough for this sort of intimacy.”

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have much time to improve that acquaintance, Madeleine. There is scarcely more than a week before you leave.”

  “Is that why you made the most of this opportunity?” she cried, her spirit wilting. “Did you make love to me in order to sway my opinion—to win my affection?”

  “Yes, I did,” he said, his eyes solemn.

  “You admit it?” she gasped, wanting to burst into tears.

  “If you must have everything analyzed, Madeleine, the main reason I kissed you was because I could not prevent myself from touching you. But yes, I had ulterior motives as well. What man, finding himself falling in love with a beautiful woman, would not hope to encourage an equal sentiment in his lady?”

  How beautiful his words sounded to her ears! But did he mean them? She longed to believe he was beginning to love her.

  The irony of her thoughts suddenly struck. For long and long, she had felt nothing, as though her heart had been buried with Bettina. Therefore, she had approached the possibility of marriage with no more emotion than a statesman negotiating a treaty. Now that it appeared there were no obstacles in the way of that marriage, she did not want to go through with it unless love was involved. No, not involved. It must be the primary reason.

  Had she lost all good sense?

  If the viscount had been a boring, pleasant gentleman who did not enlist her affection to any degree, she would have had no qualms in marrying him. Or at least, she did not think she would. But since he frightened her with his frailties, tore at her emotions with his grief, and, worst of all, set her heart and body on fire with desire, she was afraid to commit to him.

  She had not lost her mind, she realized with sudden insight. She was terrified of being vulnerable to this man. He held the power to hurt her.

  “How can I know if your affection is genuine and not caused by your need for my father’s wealth?” she asked, the words spilling from the depths of her soul.

  He sprang from his seat and walked to her. Alarmed he would try to kiss her, she turned her back to him. He moved very close, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. When his hands slid down her arms and linked at her waist, her skin pebbled, making her shiver; she did not have the strength to resist, but leaned against him and closed her eyes.

  “You know that need is there,” he whispered. “I’ve made no secret of it.”

  “I know,” she admitted.

  “It was a promise I made to my brother.”

  Her lashes raised. “Was it?”

  She sensed him gathering his thoughts. “The day Lucan ... was shot. He didn’t die immediately.” He was silent a moment, and she laid her fingers over his hands as he struggled. “I was with him in the field. He knew he didn’t have long. Lucan understood me better than anyone. I had never taken the estate seriously; in my mind, it was his responsibility as the older brother.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Ten minutes my elder, and a world of difference in accountability. As he lay dying, he charged me with maintaining our inheritance. He said he trusted me to keep the line going. I was not to give in to my own desires, or my sorrow. There was nothing I could do for him. Nothing except give my word to carry out his wishes.”

  “Which you did,” she said softly.

  “I did.” He inhaled deeply. “Therefore, I determined to find a way to finance the renewal of this pile of stones.”

  “Enter Madeleine Murrow, stage right,” she said with some bitterness.

  “But how delightful an entrance. I had not counted on finding love as well as everything else.”

  “You have not known me long enough to be certain of your feelings.”

  “Ah, Madeleine, you torture me. How long must I wait? I would visit your father in the morning were it up to me.”

  She tilted her head backward in annoyance. “Is that supposed to be a proposal?”

  “If you’re ready to hear it, I’m prepared to give you my best effort.”

  “I think I shall collapse with the romance of it,” she said, hardly knowing whether to be amused or angry.

  “I’ll go down on one knee if you like,” he said lightly.

  “No.” He was very quiet behind her, and she felt his frustration. “Too fast, my lord. Too fast by far.”

  After a brief hesitation, he said, “I bow to your wishes.”

  She could no longer hide her greatest fear and turned within his arms to face him. Ethan ... this curse. You don’t—”

  “Is that what’s troubling you? How I wish Alice hadn’t brought up that subject.” His hands loosened from her waist, and he moved to the fireplace, sat on the edge of the hearth, and crossed his arms over one knee. “There’s nothing to it, Madeleine. Only an unlucky series of coincidences.”

  She wished she could believe him. “It doesn’t worry you?”

  He sighed explosively. “I blame Alice for this. She knows the whole thing is meaningless.”

  Madeleine fought a desire to call him back to her. Instead, she followed him to the fireplace. “Alice didn’t know we were ignorant of the curse. Please don’t blame her; she meant nothing by it.”

  “Oh, didn’t she? You’re already caught in her web, I see. You don’t understand the relationships here, so you shouldn’t try to speak with an authority you can’t support.”

  “I’m sure you’re correct,” she said, fighting to keep her voice reasonable, remembering his grief. “But how can I learn if you won’t tell me?”

  How can I learn if you won’t tell me?

  She could not know how her words disturbed him. After the past few days, and especially after the blood-boiling intensity of the past few moments, he wanted to pour his entire life into her ears. It was the first time he’d felt this way since Lucan left him; but there were things no gentleman could say, especially not to a woman he hoped to marry. How could he explain Alice’s motivations when they so closely involved himself?

  Well. Not precisely himself.

  “I don
’t know how to make you understand a lifetime in only a few words.” He stood, lifted the poker, and nudged the ashes, then started piling on pieces of wood. “I suppose I should begin by telling you that everyone loved Lucan.”

  “If that is true, then everyone loves you as well. You were twins.”

  He smiled at the loyalty he heard in her voice. “No, you don’t understand. We were like two sides of a coin. He was all goodness and light. I was darkness.”

  “Oh, pooh. No one is totally good or bad.”

  He stared at her. Almost, almost she could make him laugh about his deepest-felt inadequacies, but the scars ran too deep. He turned back to the fire.

  “In this case it’s true. You’ll understand in a moment. One of the reasons I left the running of the estate entirely to Lucan was because he was so competent at everything he touched. I took no responsibility for anything except my own pleasure. The only occupation of remote worth that caught my interest was breeding horses, but we didn’t have the funds to pursue it. Therefore, I played. I brought him ... great sadness.”

  He stabbed at the wood, wishing for the moment it was himself.

  “Lucan often told me I was wasting my life and potential. I never listened to his counsel; instead, I resented it. How I worried him with my mistresses and gambling.” When her eyes widened, he nodded. “Oh, yes. I suppose I should have told you about those vices as well, although I promise you, that sort of thing is in the past. Still, there are more sins. Would you like to hear the list? Do you have all night?”

  He closed his mouth abruptly. Next, he would be explaining about the baby upstairs. Did he want to send her packing?

  “Was he as brutally honest as you?” she asked after a moment

  He laughed. “Honest, yes. Brutal, no. Had you met Lucan, you wouldn’t have given me a second thought. It was impossible not to love him. You could not have helped preferring him over me. Everyone did.”

  “Oh, Ethan, not everyone, surely.”

  “Yes, everyone, my mother included. I think it galled her that Lucan and I looked so much alike yet acted so differently. She and I didn’t get on at all well, and as I grew older, I spent much of my time in London to escape her sharp tongue.”

  “If your perception of things is true, how difficult that must have been for you.”

  “I would have hated him if I could, but that was impossible. He had my best interest at heart. He had everyone’s best interest at heart. It didn’t matter whether the person was the village baker or the marquess in the next county. And his was not an idle concern, either; his caring activated him. For an example: a few years ago, there was an outbreak of fever among our laborers. Lucan not only saw to it that everyone had food, blankets, and medicine, but he visited them. Do you know what it means for a commoner to have a lord serve him? I declare to you; my brother came close to being worshipped.”

  She folded her hands at her waist, paced a few feet, and turned with a serious, scowling look. It was a masculine gesture to see in so feminine a creature—made the more compelling by the way her garments draped over her graceful curves—and he didn’t know whether to smile or to clutch her in his arms again. Discretion being the better part of valor, he did nothing.

  “Sometimes, Ethan, memory softens the true character of a loved one. I’ve seen it happen with my mother and Bettina. She doesn’t seem to recall the times my sister made her weep with frustration.”

  “I understand that, but in this instance it doesn’t apply. Lucan was a religious man. If he had been the younger of us, I think he would have become a clergyman; maybe even a missionary. His caring knew no bounds; he lived to give to others.”

  Her frown deepened. He saw her struggling to believe. He could not blame her. Who would think a young man—a peer—with every advantage, could be so willing to sacrifice all? Had he not lived nearly every day of his life beside Lucan, he would not have believed it, either.

  “Have you ever seen the copies young artists make of paintings by great masters?” he asked. “I’m like that. An inferior copy. I’ve lived with that knowledge all my life. You have only to ask to find it’s true. Notice sometimes the way Burns looks at me; he hates me for surviving my brother. He prefers I had died rather than Lucan. He’s not alone.”

  “You should give him the sack, then,” she pronounced.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “And why not?”

  He shrugged. “What would he do? He’s not a young man anymore, and positions aren’t that easy to find.”

  “Are you telling me you feel an obligation to the butler? A certain loyalty because of his years of service?”

  “I ...” He saw her trap and stopped.

  “Such a dark man you are, Ethan Ambrose. How you frighten me.”

  Despite an elevation in his spirits, he felt bound she should know the truth as completely as he could tell it, for to remain silent could bring her hurt. “Alice loved my brother. Since we were children, she built her world around him, but Lucan dwelled on another level than the rest of us. He treated her well, but no differently than anyone else. This went on for years. Alice could have wed many times over; you see how attractive and charming she is—”

  “I had noticed but thank you for reminding me.”

  He grinned briefly. “At any rate, Lucan’s life was full without a wife; but I suppose a sense of obligation to the future led him to finally propose—”

  “They were betrothed?” Madeleine said in agonized tones, her hands flying to her cheeks.

  “Yes, I think he’d given up on me as a candidate to fulfill that duty with someone. He asked her to marry him a couple of months before the accident. They were to have wed last fall.”

  “Oh, how horrible for her!” She began to pace. “But—but she has recovered so well!” Her eyes flew to his. “That didn’t sound-—I mean, she seemed so happy tonight that I never would have suspected—if she loved him for so long, I can’t understand—”

  “Never mind, I know what you’re trying to say. Alice is capable of hiding her feelings.”

  “I don’t know how she does it. Of course, she has her family. And—”

  Again, she gazed at him, this time with dawning horror. He watched her calmly, willing her to guess what he could not say.

  “And you,” she said, her voice trembling. “She has you.”

  “No, Madeleine, she does not have me.”

  He would never speak of the scene three months ago when Alice had begged him with tears raining down her cheeks to take Lucan’s place. He was not his brother, he’d told her, and never could be. Her love was for Lucan, not him. He could not fulfill the role of a substitute, nor would he try.

  “But she’s not given up on the possibility, has she?”

  “I shall always love Alice,” he said carefully. “She is like a sister to me.”

  Madeleine nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Therefore, when she so casually mentioned the curse, she was hoping to discourage me.”

  He could not answer this, and he turned his gaze aside.

  “Thank you for letting me know,” she said softly, and, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek, hurried from the room.

  Chapter 7

  Madeleine descended the stairs late the next morning, having overslept after a restless night. Everyone else had long since breakfasted, and she ate cold toast alone in the dining room. When she joined her family in the library, she found her father reading the newspaper and her mother working on a needlepoint project which would recover a pair of footstools in their morning room at home. Mr. Brandt, her father told her, had gone to visit the cottages to determine what needed to be repaired that spring. The viscount was riding.

  “Have you noted how he rides every morning, no matter what the weather?” Antonia said to her daughter. “I find such energy remarkable.”

  Thomas rattled the pages of the newspaper without looking up “There’s nothing remarkable about it at all, dearest. He’s a young man. All young men have energy.” />
  That is certainly true, Madeleine thought, remembering last evening with a mixture of pleasure and sadness.

  Had the viscount been sincere when he declared his affections were engaged? Every instinct said he was, yet she was a practical woman. She would like to believe she was irresistible as Ethan had said, but sensibility decreed her wealth must have something to do with her attractiveness.

  Yet he had told her many things he need not, such as his gentle warning about Alice. How that knowledge had hurt! She had looked forward to forming a close relationship with Miss Redding, but such appeared impossible now. She could forgive many things in a friendship, but deception was not one of them. How she dreaded their outing on Friday.

  She had brought Rob Roy downstairs with her, and now she sat in the chair with the drooping seat and prepared to read. After a moment, her father folded his newspaper, set it on the floor beside him, and went to close the double doors to the library. This last was so unusual that both women looked up from their occupations.

  Returning to his chair, he glanced from one to the other of them. “We’re so rarely alone together at Westhall, I thought we should take advantage of this opportunity. Antonia, I spoke with Madeleine for a few moments last night about her impressions of the viscount. What thoughts have you to share?”

  “I? What matters most to me is Madeleine’s happiness, although I do find Lord Ambrose delightful. He has such a manner with little Dorrie. I declare I have never seen the like in a man—excepting you, of course, Thomas; you were all that could be wished for with our daughters. How do you feel about him, Madeleine?”

  The young woman was opening her mouth to speak when her father said, “She’s not firmed her opinion yet. She is more giving than I. Each day that passes, I find more to doubt in his character.”

  “Do you?” Antonia said, her expression surprised. “What have you seen that I have not?”

  He gave her a fond look. “Many things, I’m certain, since your sweetness does not allow you to think ill of others. I find the situation of the baby to be suspicious. I have trouble believing in this cousin of his whom no one has ever seen. After last night, I’m experiencing more doubts. Did you note Mr. Redding’s questions about her? He was skeptical, too.”