Or perhaps the intimacy of what they’d engaged in. But somehow, she found herself trusting this man more than any other person of her acquaintance, even Millie.
“My soul has felt black. It has been difficult to shed.” Could she tell him?
He fell silent at her words but the rhythm of his breathing comforted her.
“You lost a great deal in a short period of time.” He finally spoke again. “Any person would be deeply affected.”
“But all is not what it seems,” she responded, unable to stifle the tremor that ran through her.
The one matter, the one fact that haunted her life, needed an outlet. She needed desperately to discuss the matter with another human being.
She shouldn’t tell another living soul. It would put her son in danger, and yet, she couldn’t keep it locked inside a moment more. “I did not lose what people thought. I lost Lucas, and Prescott. And I did lose Harold, but not in the way it is believed.”
She twisted around to stare into his eyes. She needed to see some understanding, some acknowledgement. “Harold did not die. Harold ran away, to save his life.” She closed her eyes tightly. Would Thomas hate what she would say? Would he be scathing? Judgmental? “He has the same inclinations his father did.”
So many repercussions to what she said.
She ought not to have told him! Oh, but she had betrayed both Devlin and Sophia by revealing the secret!
“But you love him. He is your son.”
Her eyes flew open at his words. She nodded. “I do. No matter what, no matter who he loves!”
Thomas nodded slowly.
“But no one can ever know! It would ruin everything. Sophia would be ruined! The scandal would never die!”
The man holding her pressed his lips against her forehead. “That’s a mighty big secret for one woman.”
But she shook her head. “Not just me. For Dev and Sophia as well. And whenever I see them, it’s as though it won’t go away. And yet—”
“The boy is your son.” He squeezed her to him.
This.
This reassurance. This sharing of burdens. It was what she’d needed for so very long. “He is very much a man. It took courage for him to do what he did. And when he did it, he released Sophia to be with Dev. He is with the man he loves… at least I believe he is. He wrote once, to explain. He is happy. He is content. He is… safe.”
Thomas simply held her for several moments more. And then finally. “He will remain so.”
And with his reassuring words, Loretta slept peacefully, for the first time in what felt like forever.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Although the earth was covered with several inches of snow the next morning, the storm had indeed passed and the sun was shining and sparkling off the tiny crystals of ice.
Loretta had entered an alternative world from anything she’d ever experienced. She and Thomas had made love, shared what remained of their basket of food, drank wine, and then made love again.
He’d slipped her chemise back over her head after the last time, citing the cold as the reason, and then managed to keep the fire burning throughout the night.
Even now, the occasional popping sound emitted from the stove. He must have risen recently to stoke it and add more wood.
One needed never worry about life’s necessities with Thomas Findlay at hand.
Ah… but today. What might today bring?
Likely one of the servants, or a handful of them, from Eden’s Court. This brief interlude must come to an end.
A warm hand rested on her belly. Her backside and legs pressed against solid warmth.
Nothing could come of the two of them.
Could it? She was old, a widow, past her prime.
Men were not considered old until well into their seventies. And this man.
This man had risen himself to become a wealthy industrialist. She believed he’d been born a butcher’s son.
She’d been raised to live among the aristocracy. She’d married a duke.
Nothing could come of the two of them.
And she’d told him about Harold.
“That’s a heavy sigh for so early in the morning.” His voice rumbled behind her.
She wondered what to say to him. She wished she knew what she wanted. She wasn’t even certain she had a choice.
“I imagine you’ve done this sort of thing before.” She settled upon her statement that wasn’t really a statement but more of a question.
“Slept?” he teased. But she wished to know.
“Had…interludes…”
“Ah.” This time it was he who released a deep sigh. “Not as much as you’d think. You forget that I raised a daughter on my own. I’ve met a few women on my travels,” he admitted. “But once I’d made my fortune, I learned I couldn’t trust the affections of most.”
Loretta twisted around to meet his stare. “Did you ever fall in love?” Such a silly question for her to ask him. But she wondered. How had she given this man her body when she knew so little about him? And she’d shared more than just her body.
His eyes crinkled as he pondered his answer.
“I loved Cecily’s mother. I believe we were in love. But those early days were rough. I don’t know if her devotion to me would have survived so many cold and hungry nights.”
“But you did. And Cecily did.”
“We did. What about you, Duchess? Have you ever been in love?”
Ah, such foolishness. She turned away from him again but covered his hand with one of hers. “I’d thought I was in love with Prescott. I was in awe of him. I respected him immensely. And I thought we loved. But no, I don’t believe we were ever in love.” She’d never admitted this aloud before. Not even to Millie, who of course knew everything.
Almost everything.
Thomas nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. Was he wondering if she believed herself to have fallen in love with him? Because they’d shared intimacies? Did he think that was why she’d revealed her darkest secrets to him?
“I don’t know that I believe in love, not for myself anyhow.” She’d disabuse him of the notion before he began to worry.
Before he could respond, however, the sounds of horses and men broke through the peaceful silence of the snow outside.
“Findlay!”
Someone was shouting for them. Good Lord! The voice sounded like Dev’s! Her nephew!
“Findlay! Aunt!” The voice grew louder.
Thomas was out of the bed and pulling on his breeches. “It’s Prescott, damnit.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. He paused, taking only enough time to steal one last kiss, and then shoved his feet into his boots and then his arms into his shirt.
With shirttails hanging out, he opened the door and stepped outside to greet Dev, who might have barreled inside without knocking given the chance.
Her heart had lurched at the words; It’s Prescott.
For some reason she imagined her husband. Her dead husband had come and discovered what she’d been doing. Not that he would have cared, but… she would have.
But it was Dev. Of course. It was only Dev.
Loretta froze in place. Surely, Thomas wouldn’t allow Devlin entry? But what would he tell him? That they’d simply taken refuge here over night? Why wouldn’t they have stayed in the main house, where they would have been allowed separate chambers? Good lord! Separate beds!
Would Devlin guess? Would he tell Sophia, her daughter-in-law?
Listening to the murmured voices outside, Loretta’s face burned. She couldn’t make out the conversation but knew this affair had come to a rather sudden end.
Scrambling about, she donned her own clothing as best as she could for the second time in as many days.
Everything was wrinkled! And her hair! Even the comb in her reticule could not bring it under control and the small amount of cosmetics she wore had long since been rubbed away.
How could she face Dev?
Before she could work herself
into a full-fledged panic, a burst of frigid air blew in as Thomas reentered the small cottage.
“Dev rode, but he had a driver follow with a sleigh.”
Blinking, at the odd turn of phrase, Loretta nearly stuttered in her embarrassment. “But—Does he suspect? Did he say anything? What did you tell him? About…?” She extended her hand to the bed.
“Worry not, Duchess. As uncouth as you imagine me to be, I did not, in fact, tell your nephew that I spent the evening swiving his widowed aunt.”
But she’d angered him. His jaw had gone taunt and his eyes distant.
“Just tell me one thing, Duchess.” The title did not sound like much of an endearment this time. “Are you embarrassed that you’ve been swived, or are you embarrassed that you’ve been swived by me?”
How could she answer this? Right now?
All she knew was mortification that her nephew might possibly guess that she’d given in to the physical desires of her body… that she even experienced such physical desires…
And utter shame at telling him about Harold.
And fear.
“I’ll return in quarter of an hour to assist you to the conveyance.” He didn’t wait around for her response but instead stomped back out of the cottage.
And then he left.
Silence.
Thomas Findlay could not be any more different than Prescott had been. When she’d managed to irritate her late husband, he’d merely smile thinly. Because it hadn’t mattered to either of them. They’d lived separate lives. They’d avoided each other’s company except for specific social and family obligations. It had all been quite unintentional, because there had been little love between them. Only obligation and self-discipline.
Once Loretta had realized the nature of her marriage, she’d mourned for several weeks but then accepted her fate. She’d accepted that it came along with her position and status in society.
But now that she no longer held the same position, in practice so much as in fact, something had changed inside of her.
And that something had caused her to act impetuously, indeed.
Dev would likely know of it. A man of the world, he’d guess at the activities she and Mr. Findlay had embarked upon.
Wouldn’t he?
The condition of the cottage stirred her to life. Blushing hotly, she went about setting the bed to rights. After smoothing and tucking, however, all of her efforts failed to affect the sleek appearance it had had when they’d entered.
Would anyone permit that Mr. Findlay had slept upon the floor? A choked gurgle worked its way up her throat when she glanced through the seams of the wood to see the earth beneath it.
She was a widowed duchess for heaven’s sake! Of course, they would assume he’d slept on the floor. Why would anyone believe anything differently of her?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Good Lord! It wasn’t only her nephew who’d come, but Sophia, Cecily, and Mr. Nottingham as well.
Having dressed and donned her coat and bonnet, Loretta had dashed through the tamped down snow along the path and into the back door of the manor. The feminine voices carrying throughout the foyer, alerted her immediately that the younger ladies had indeed, ridden along with their husbands.
Before she could speak a single word, the shorter of the two girls rushed forward and threw her arms around Loretta. “I was so very worried, your grace.” Sophia squeezed her tightly, trembling, before stepping back and smoothing her gown and coat in some embarrassment.
Inexplicably, Loretta fought back tears. She and her daughter-in-law had been through many trying times together, but never showed one another outward signs of affection.
Of course, Loretta admired her greatly.
And of course, she loved Sophia like a daughter, but she’d never thought the younger girl would welcome such physical displays from her. Loretta had watched over Sophia closely when she’d been married to Harold—too closely. She’d meddled too much and Sophia had eventually, firmly but delicately, but her in her place.
The mother-in-law—daughter-in-law relationship was one often rife with landmines.
“Sophia has been frantic with worry for you, your grace, even though I assured her that my father would take good care of you.” Thomas’ daughter laughed and filled in what could have easily become an uncomfortable moment. She glanced around and gestured at the expansive foyer. “It is not as though the two of you have been stranded on the side of the road, however. The house is beautiful. Do you know if my father has decided to purchase it? He thinks I’ll stop worrying, you know, if he purchases a property and appears to settle down. I know better, though. He’s wandered the world for my entire life. I doubt seriously he’ll suddenly find himself content to live in the country alone.”
These words brought a rush of heat to Loretta’s face for some unknown and ridiculous reason. Flustered, she turned away and walked toward a window.
In her mad dash to the manor, she’d not truly taken in the white wonderland outside. “He has not said yet what his plans are. I find the design to be lovely, though, as far as estates go. And, much like travel from Eden’s Court, it is not an overly long trip to London.”
A tumult of emotions spun around inside at the notion that Thomas Findlay might choose to remain in England rather than sail off to some unknown land.
A sinking of her heart ensued at the thought that he would not.
Ridiculous.
One night did not change a man’s wandering ways. And she’d not expect him to. She’d not given him indication that she would wish to extend their affair. Because she didn’t want that either.
Did she?
Might she?
“Prescott assured me you would be safe,” Sophia explained behind her. “But I hated the thought of you having to do without Millie. And Millie was beside herself as well. She’ll not rest, I’m sure, until we have you safely home.”
Sophia was not meaning to insinuate that she could not do without the services of her maid for even one night, but the fact that she wasn’t so very far off pricked at Loretta. And, ah, yes. Millie would have been quite overwrought. Even more so in light of her opinion of Thomas.
Of Mr. Findlay.
A distant opening door and masculine footsteps halted the conversation. “Ah, Aunt. There you are. And you look none the worse for wear.” Prescott, her nephew approached and dropped a kiss on her cheek.
Loretta touched her hair self-consciously. She wondered what Dev really thought. Thomas’ daughter seemed to watch her carefully, although Sophia merely appeared relieved to have found her safe.
“Did you ladies wish to see the estate, or ought we to travel back to Eden’s Court right away?” This from Mr. Nottingham. Thomas entered lastly. Although he stood slightly behind his son-in-law, Loretta felt his gaze upon her.
She swallowed hard, remembering the activities they’d participated in only a few hours ago. The intimacies she’d shared.
And she’d told him about Prescott and Harold! Why had she done that?
“The sky is clear now, but let’s not take any chances on another storm moving in. Besides that, Rhoda and Carlisle are expected any day.” This from Sophia.
Loretta refused to meet Thomas’ eyes.
She could not.
CHAPTER NINE
Three days passed since returning to Eden’s Court, and Thomas had yet to cross paths with his duchess even once. And when he’d taken it upon himself to visit the dowager house, he’d been promptly sent away. The duchess was not in, he’d been told.
And so, on this afternoon, he took it upon himself to restlessly wander about the endless foyers in Eden’s Court.
She’d been embarrassed that morning at Talon’s Gate. If only she’d speak to him, he could set her fears to rest. None of her family members suspected anything untoward had occurred. He’d given Prescott the impression that the duchess had spent the night alone in the guest house, as that had been more practical to heat, and that he’d spent the night w
ith the animals.
Prescott had merely nodded and then Thomas had sent Cecily and the younger duchess inside the main manor to have a look around.
The only person who suspected anything, he’d guess, was his daughter.
Although one part of him was frustrated at the duchess’ notable absence, another part of him was slightly relieved.
For surely when he did see her again, he’d experience the sting of rejection. Because God help him, he had fallen in love with the blasted woman and she likely could never see past his low birth.
She’d allowed him to bed her, but he doubted she’d want anything more.
Thomas would make his departure on Boxing Day.
He needed to speak with her, though, because despite their ages, he supposed he could still possibly have gotten her with child.
Certainly not a conversation he’d foreseen having at this stage of his life.
He turned the corner, and where an iron gate normally blocked passage, he discovered it slid open. He’d follow this route, as he was growing bored with most of the others.
Ah, yes, the gallery.
Centuries of paintings, artist renderings of the Prescott ancestors preserved for all eternity. He stopped to examine a few of the more interesting ones, but preferred to keep moving.
Until he arrived at hers.
Damned fool that he was. Good God, she was even more beautiful now than when she had been a girl. Studying the likeness, he could almost smell her perfume. Roses, warmth.
“I was barely sixteen when I sat for it.”
He should have known the moment he was no longer alone. The painting had thrown off his senses. She’d crept up beside him. Shifting his gaze toward her, his heart felt lighter all of a sudden.
“You’re even more beautiful now.” Having her here beside him, and having had a taste of her, all his instincts demanded more.
But she held herself stiffly and took two steps away at his words.
“You are a flatterer.” She scoffed. She held her hands behind her back. “But thank you.”
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