by Heather Boyd
“Her ladyship is not receiving visitors, milord,” Graves intoned.
“She’ll see me.”
“How dare you,” Graves growled as Lynton pounded up the staircase ahead of the butler.
Estella stepped closer to the rail and looked down. “It is all right, Graves. I was expecting Lord Lynton.”
Although the butler frowned at the news, he went away. Estella fixed her gaze on her unexpected visitor. Lynton was better dressed than his usual sober self. He reminded her of the young lord he used to be, except he moved without a self-assured swagger to his step. Right now, he seemed uneasy. “How may I help you?”
“We need to talk, Essy, in private.”
Although she didn’t particularly care for the idea, she retreated to her bedchamber, leaving Lynton to follow if he dared. He’d likely caused enough gossip already by demanding to see her this way. What was one scandal more to cap off the day?
He shut the door behind him and leaned against the wood. “I’m sorry about my brother.”
Estella shrugged. “Your brother has some strange notions in his head. They’ll soon disappear, as all his wild flights of fancy tend to do.”
“I think not this time.” Lynton grimaced. “He paid an unexpected call on your son while the boy was engaged with orphanage business. Staines made no bones about wishing the trustees all gone from Carrington’s house.”
Estella’s heart fluttered. “He hasn’t lost his touch at clearing a room. What did he talk about?”
Lynton set his hands to his hips, his gaze troubled. “Nothing specific, but he hasn’t lost his habit of meddling. I foresee him continuing his new association with your son. It will be remarked upon and society will take notice. The current rumor is that you and Staines had a lover’s quarrel and his coming to your son’s house, when you were obviously from Town, will be fuel for speculation. If they consider the boy and Staines too closely, they might imagine a resemblance to the duke.”
Estella closed her eyes, willing herself not to remember the resemblance between her son and this man. But it was there, despite her not knowing how it could possibly be true. Oscar had worn that same look of contrition on his face when he’d been scolded as a boy, when he was in the wrong and knew it. She opened her eyes.
Lynton hadn’t moved. He stood still as a statue—an older version of her son. Very similar. Too similar for chance to have had a hand in Oscar’s creation. How could she not have known? How could she have shared a bed with Lynton Manning and not realized it?
Estella spun about, pressing her hands together over her churning stomach.
“You were expecting your husband that night. I knew it. Saw it. Carrington had whispered in your ear all afternoon, and I had to sit through that interminable dinner while he smiled at you and brought a bright blush to your cheeks.”
Manning drew closer. He stopped behind her back, but didn’t touch.
“I had gone outside to cool my temper after you had retired to bed. I was jealous and heartsick all over again, as I had been when you’d married that slimy bastard. While I was venting my fury to the dark night, he left the house. He walked right by me with Lady Whitcombe and Lady Realford on each arm. He didn’t see me. The women were laughing about you.”
Estella’s heart raced in anger over a dead man and his faithlessness, and over Lynton taking advantage of her that night. “So you decided to take his place.”
Lynton’s hands settled on her shoulders lightly, and then went away. “That was not my intention. I don’t know what I was thinking. I suppose I went to tell you where he was. I wanted to point out his flaws so you would leave him.”
Estella hugged herself. “But you said not one word. Not one.”
“I couldn’t. By the time I entered your bedchamber, I realized you wouldn’t leave him. That you would avoid any scandal and stay with him to preserve your good name.” His hands settled on her shoulders again.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you’d told me the truth. It would have at least prepared me for the rest of my marriage.” Estella forced a deep breath into her lungs. “Why did you take his place?”
Behind her, Lynton’s head pressed against the back of hers. “You touched me.”
Estella frowned. “That’s hardly an encouragement to share another man’s wife’s bed.”
His rough breathing behind her caused her heart to race. “With you, it’s like fire on grass after a long, dry spell. I have loved you all my life. I desire you still.”
Lynton didn’t move, but his rough pant of breath over her neck sent her pulse racing. Again, she reacted to him with astonishing ease. And she had too, the night he’d taken her husband’s place, if memory served. He had been . . . thorough. Gentle. And wonderful.
Estella covered her face with both hands. She trembled and fought the urge to turn around. But to see his face would make everything real. It would make this conversation utterly impossible to deny.
Lynton rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Your son looks at my face and frowns, love. It is only a matter of time before he pieces together the puzzle.”
A sob tore from Estella’s throat. Dear God, what would Oscar do when he discovered the truth? What would he think of her then?
“I think, perhaps, we should tell the boy the truth before Staines gifts his new nephew with a larger townhouse. My brother has threatened to do so already.”
Estella dropped her hands. “I’m sure your brother will enjoy himself at my expense.”
When Lynton drew her into his arms, Estella didn’t fight the feeling of comfort that swept her. She clung to him and wiped away her tears on his coat.
“He is excited to discover he has new family to dote upon. You know how he is, forever spoiling those he can.” Lynton pressed a kiss to her brow. “He means well. He’s just vexed at me for keeping secrets. He always wanted you in the family, and he hates that I took orders. Perhaps he will be happier now that I’m leaving the church.”
Estella pushed away. “You’re not leaving because of this?”
He smiled and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “No, not entirely. But I very much fear for the children of the orphanage. Carter wants to pull out, and you know if he does the rest will go too. I cannot bear the thought of the children homeless again. Princeton Park is being opened again in readiness for the small arrivals.”
Estella turned around. “You’re taking them home?”
“They will enjoy the fresh air and greater opportunities for mischief and exercise. I know I did as a boy. Princeton will suit them all very well.” He stepped close again and caught up her fingers. “There is ample room for visitors too. I should be pleased to have you, Birkenstock, and Miss Birkenstock under my roof anytime you care to come.”
“I couldn’t do that,” Estella whispered.
He squeezed her fingers. “The offer stands, regardless. I love you too much to care about Birkenstock. The children would want to see you again, and so do I.”
Although her mouth no doubt hung open, Estella couldn’t find the wits to close it. Lynton kissed her cheek and departed, leaving the door open in his wake. She stared at it. How had her world become so confused? She liked order and a scandal-less life. When had everything changed?
She took a deep breath and walked to the door, intending to close it and attempt to sleep off her anxiety. Yet before she could, Oscar appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his gaze searching. “Oscar? I didn’t know you had arrived.”
“Yes, I’ve been here for some time.”
“Oh.” Estella licked her lips, and then cursed the nervous gesture. “How have you been, my dear?”
“Much better. I am content again.” He looked behind him and Estella guessed that he had been outside her door while Lynton had been here, professing his love. But had he overheard the first part of the conversation?
She couldn’t tell.
He cleared his throat. “I come on a commission from Lord Daventry. He de
sires to speak with you in private about birthing matters. He has concerns about Lilly becoming with child.”
“Is she already increasing?”
“No. Not that he’s aware of.” Oscar shook his head. “But without a female acquaintance to reassure him, he’s become a bundle of nerves. You know how he is with her. Would you attempt to speak with him tonight before or during the party? I thought you might be able to advise him, or at least set his mind at ease.”
Estella nodded. “I will do my best.”
“Thank you, Mother. They mean the world to me and I would not like to see them unhappy.”
“You are a good friend, Oscar.”
A sudden smile crossed his face. “Not always, but I mean to be from now on. Were you very content with your position in society, Mother? I ask because I have a feeling things will change very soon, and perhaps we shall not be as well liked in the future.”
Tears pricked her eyes. He had heard it all. “Oscar, I can explain.”
“A propensity for scandal seems to run in the family, doesn’t it?” He took a step back. “Try not to be vexed with me and I’ll do the same for you.”
Estella frowned and held out her hand to Oscar. “What else is there that you are not telling me?” He took it and she gripped it, staring up into his face and hoping to find the answers that had eluded her all these weeks.
“You’ll know soon enough.” Oscar bent and kissed her cheek, too, and hurried out.
Chapter Twenty
AGATHA SWEPT INTO the room on her grandfather’s arm and every nerve in Oscar’s body tingled. She was here for Lilly, not him, and the knowledge twisted his gut into a crushing band. She should be on his arm and by his side. He still had to speak with her grandfather and gain his permission for marriage before he could attempt to obtain a special license or else run off to Gretna Green. If he could get a license, perhaps he could persuade Mr. Manning to marry them, too.
His father. His real father.
Oscar took a drink. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as shocked as he probably should be with his mother over cuckolding her husband. But knowing the truth would take some getting used to. He had overheard the whole of the conversation and Manning’s feeble excuse for sharing her bed. He could hardly begrudge the man who gave him life. But he did wish he could confide in Agatha about it. He couldn’t keep secrets from her.
Oscar moved closer as Lord and Lady Daventry greeted her. Her simple gown of burgundy silk with fine lace edging accentuated the long, smooth curve of her throat and the tightly bound blonde hair on her head.
She looked enchanting.
She looked nervous.
Her gaze darted about the room and settled briefly on a far corner where Lady Penelope stood with her father, sister, and her ever-present brother-in-law, Lord Prewitt. It would be expected that Oscar should be conversing with their party, not delaying his return with meaningless chatter to another of Daventry’s friends. But he wanted Agatha.
As he drained the last of his drink, a necessary fortification for the long dinner ahead, he noticed how often Penelope’s eyes turned toward her brother by marriage. She was clearly fond of him, though there was never anything in Prewitt’s manner to suggest he was similarly affected. Her sister gazed adoringly at Prewitt too, but in the manner acceptable in polite circles for a wife—a saucy smile, a gentle touch.
He looked forward to the day when Agatha might be that easy with him in society. He longed for the moment when he might introduce her as his wife.
He accepted another glass, swallowed a mouthful, and then considered his fresh glass. He wasn’t foxed. The drink had had little effect on him so far, but he was well on the way to feeling more himself than he had in months. A man who was sure of one thing.
The woman he loved beyond anything else in life had stepped into the room.
Within moments, he was at her side. “Miss Birkenstock, may I say you look enchanting tonight.”
Agatha blinked at his sudden arrival and then quickly dropped a curtsey. “You are too kind, my lord.”
So formal, so proper. He caught her hand and kissed the air above it. Her lowered position gave Oscar a glimpse of heaven down the front of her gown. He let a little of his delight show in his grin, but only so much that Agatha would notice. He turned to her grandfather. “Mr. Birkenstock, sir. It is good to see you returned to Town. Was your trip a pleasant one?”
“Yes, yes. No trouble at all,” Birkenstock puffed. “Although I did not like being absent from my granddaughter.”
“I’m sure that being at any distance from Miss Birkenstock is quite unsettling.”
Oscar spoke the truth. The minute Agatha was near, all his troubles vanished. His heart no longer raced, except with anticipation. But there would be very little touching tonight. He had to be on his best behavior or else risk spoiling Lilly’s evening.
A little bell rang out in the hall and they turned for the splendor of the Earl of Daventry’s dining table. The room was perfect, glowing with golden light with fine china and crystal. The servants waited patiently to ensure Lady Daventry’s first dinner was a success, each determined to make the night perfect.
Oscar skirted the table until he found a servant holding his chair. When Agatha moved to sit in the space beside him, he was momentarily startled. By rights, Lady Daventry could place her guests anywhere, of course, but her choice tonight was interesting. He had expected to sit next to Lady Penelope. In fact, he’d dreaded that very event. But Penelope was seated far from him, and when the ladies all sat in unison he wasn’t disappointed in the least.
But Agatha fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with her location at his side. A glance across the table showed that more than one eye turned their way, considering the odd seating placement. Lady Daventry met his gaze and winked—actually winked across the long expanse of mahogany. If he didn’t know her heart was firmly captured by her possessive husband, he’d be uncomfortable with the gesture. But knowing Lilly’s nature, he concluded that Daventry had told her of his attachment to Agatha and she’d taken steps to place them together.
His mother, ever one to deflect attention from any faux pas made by new hostesses, began an animated, and very timely, conversation with their hosts as a distraction. But her glances in his direction hinted that she was going to question him later. He hadn’t satisfied her curiosity earlier in the day, and he wouldn’t be doing it tonight either.
Once all attention had been diverted by the delivery of the first course and further conversation, Oscar cleared his throat. “I understand you’ve been quite a help to our mutual friend. Daventry tells me you assisted Lilly a great deal with the planning for this evening. Everything looks wonderful.”
“I did assist her with some things, but this, the seating arrangement, was entirely her doing. For all her delicate looks, she is quite the most willful creature.”
He chuckled and signaled for Agatha’s glass to be refilled as well as his own. “I must remember to thank Lilly properly later. She is a woman determined to secure my heart.”
“Your heart? Is your heart so easily captured then by a saucy wink?”
Oscar pressed his napkin to his lips to hide his smile. “Affection and loyalty seems far too tame when offered such a great service. She has seated me beside my heart’s desire, and a few paltry words cannot properly express my joy. You see, I may talk to you all evening without causing any great scandal simply because I must be attentive. Most hostesses have not been quite so nice to me in the past.”
Agatha’s lips lifted in amusement while she directed her attention to her fish.
Beneath the table, Oscar pressed his leg to hers. “You see now why I must love her as I would perhaps a sibling. But a nice sibling, not like my own sister, Mirelle. She would never be so good to me.”
Agatha turned her head and caught his gaze. He’d told her of Mirelle’s bitterness—a more disappointed lady in unrequited love as there ever was to be. Agatha’s hand dropped to her lap and then, as she fid
geted with her napkin, her fingers slipped sideways to brush his encroaching thigh. A small tingle of awareness shot to his groin and then when she did it again, he had the devil of a time not returning the caress.
Thankfully, the meal was barely half over. He would have plenty of time to regain control of himself before he was forced to stand as the ladies left the table. “I see the Ettington’s and Hallam’s are not in attendance.”
Agatha’s hands returned to her utensils. “No. Unfortunately, or fortunately from their perspective, the ladies are in a somewhat delicate condition, and their husbands prefer them not to travel. Lilly looks forward to seeing them at Christmas.”
Oscar sipped his wine. “As should you.”
Agatha’s gaze shot sideways. “My grandfather has made no decision, as yet, of whether to accept Ettington’s invitation. I hope to go.”
Oscar took a bite of lamb and looked about the table as he chewed. Most couples were either in deep conversation or devouring the earl’s repast with great enthusiasm. No one was paying attention to them. He offered Agatha a quick, reassuring smile. “Depend upon it. You will be at Hazelmere for the house party. We are going.”
Agatha’s eyes widened.
“I’ll call on him tomorrow.” He nodded toward her grandfather. “I promise.”
She quickly returned her attention to her plate, and Oscar relaxed. It would be nice to take Agatha away from London. He didn’t think she’d left since she’d come to stay with her grandfather all those years ago. Wonderful years, where they’d grown to become friends.
They passed the next course in silence, but holding his tongue proved impossible. “I was unable to visit with the children at the orphanage today. How is little Betty coming along?”
“Very well,” Agatha replied, after a footman had taken her plate. “She is full of health and liveliness again. And the other children are the same, as always.”
Oscar laughed. “Full of beans and ready for adventure?”
“The very thing.”
“Most boys are like that, and girls too, at a young age, before they are taught to imitate only their mothers.” A smile flittered across Agatha’s face at his words. “What?”