by Olivia Drake
Blythe lifted her chin. “Accompany you? I can think of nothing I would like less. Pray God you never return here.”
James gazed bleakly at her for another moment, then he turned the horse around and set off at a canter.
Minx whined at the latched gate, scratching with her paw. It was painfully obvious that she wanted to run after James.
Blythe caught up the dog in a hug. “No, Minx. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”
She would not weep. She would not. Such a scoundrel wasn’t worth a single tear. But when her grandmother came down the path and put her frail arms around Blythe, she clung to her granny and wept wretchedly.
* * *
Five days later, the letters began arriving. Not from James, but from her sisters.
Portia wrote that Papa had come to them the previous afternoon and confessed the whole sordid story. It had been a terrible shock to learn the hidden truth about their past. They were all still grappling with disbelief over the matter. Their mother had taken to her bed with a megrim and had refused to see anyone.
We remain your loving sisters, Portia wrote at the end. It doesn’t matter what our bloodlines are. Nothing has changed in our hearts.
Lindsey wrote that she had suspected something fishy all along about James, for he had played the role of Prince Nicolai far too convincingly. She now regretted keeping silent, for she had not realized that Blythe’s heart had become so engaged with him.
We love you, dear sister, and we miss you terribly. You will always have a home here with us.
Lindsey enclosed enough coins to cover Blythe’s fare back home.
Sitting in the cottage, Blythe bowed her head and wept. In the last week, she had become a veritable watering pot. These tears were not from the pain of loss and betrayal, but from relief. How could she have ever thought, even for a moment, that her sisters might shun her?
The next day, more letters arrived. Portia related amusing little stories about the children. Arthur had picked up a pretty brown stone in the garden, only to howl in aggrieved surprise when it had uncurled into an earthworm. Ella had laughed for the first time, and her happy disposition had made her the delight of the household.
Lindsey wrote that Kasi had known about the ruse from the start, for she had been the girls’ ayah on the journey when the real George and Edith Crompton had died of cholera. All these years, Kasi had kept silent in order to protect the three sisters from the taint of scandal.
The letters continued to be delivered, day after day. Portia kept Blythe updated with news about the children, and every now and then mentioned James. In one, she said that he had dined with the family.
Pray don’t be angry with us for receiving him. He is, after all, our brother-in-law and second cousin to Lindsey and me. Perhaps you won’t wish to hear this, but James is not a happy man. I do believe he is suffering greatly for his ill treatment of you.
Suffering!
Thrusting the letter away, Blythe stomped into the garden and yanked out weeds. Her grandmother was clipping the ivy on the stone wall. “News of yer husband, I reckon?”
“I don’t know how my sisters can like him,” Blythe burst out. “He’s a heartless villain with no honor at all.”
“Ye fell in love with him,” Granny said with a wise smile. “Perhaps ye might try to remember why.”
Blythe recalled far too much. Every night as she lay in her little cot under the eaves where her mother had slept as a child, memories of him would haunt her. The glint of mischief in his eyes. His brash smile and teasing remarks. And oh, the feel of his hands on her body …
Instead of diminishing with the passage of time, the memories intensified, so that she would wake up in the dark, longing for the warmth of his arms around her.
Foolish, foolish, foolish!
In her next letter, Lindsey reported that Lady Davina had been in a snit ever since Prince Nicolai’s proposal to Blythe. Then James had made an appearance at a ball, and just as the duke’s daughter was curtsying to him in front of all of society, he’d revealed he was not a prince at all; he had played the role to win a private wager with Lord Mansfield. James had apologized most charmingly for the hoax.
Everyone but Lady Davina had been amused.
Amused!
Blythe tossed the letter down and went to the table to make scones, using her granny’s recipe. She measured the flour into a wooden bowl and cracked an egg. Adding currants and a pinch of salt, she wondered why her sisters were helping James gain a place in society.
Did the ton know that James had married her? Did they wonder why she had vanished? Were all the ladies flirting with him?
Mixing the dough, she denied a stab of white-hot jealousy. It shouldn’t matter anymore how he conducted his life. But if he dared to turn that heart-stopping smile on any other woman …
As the days passed, more letters arrived, including one from her father, who begged her forgiveness. He went on at length about how considerate James had been in not bringing them before a magistrate, and how generous he was in allowing them to keep Crompton House. He will accept only your dowry and the estate in Lancashire, nothing more.
The news was so earthshaking that Blythe hastened outside to find her grandmother, who sat knitting beneath the shade of a tree while Minx pursued a butterfly through the garden. “James didn’t send my parents to prison, after all,” Blythe said breathlessly. “Nor did he claim my father’s fortune. I don’t understand it.”
“Why, dearie, ’tis simple. He must love ye very much.”
Blythe hardly knew what to say to that. Was it possible he had done this for her? Oh, how she wished she could know for certain. Her insides felt like a roiling mass of anxiety.
“Granny, how can you always be so wise and so content?”
Those hazel eyes smiled. “The happiest people don’t always have the best of everything. They make the best of everything they have.”
Blythe pondered that. It was time to stop brooding over the past and make the best of her life. As much as she liked staying here with her grandmother, she could not hide any longer from her family—or James.
It was time for her to return to London.
Chapter 31
“Lady Mansfield and Lady Ratcliffe are in the nursery,” a footman informed Blythe. “I will inform them at once that you are here.”
“It’s quite all right. I know the way.”
As Blythe started up the grand staircase at Pallister House, she marveled at the enormity of the entrance hall. Only weeks ago she had wanted to become mistress of such a fine house as her sister’s. But after a month spent in the cozy quarters of her grandmother’s cottage, she had learned what truly mattered in life.
The happiest people don’t always have the best of everything. They make the best of everything they have.
Such a sensible woman, her granny. They’d shared a tearful goodbye two days ago, and Blythe had promised to return very soon. She had left Minx there as a companion to her grandmother. If all went well, they would be together again soon.
On the long journey here, Blythe had thought much about James. He must have had a reason for asking her father for the deed to the Lancashire house. Did James hope she would agree to live there with him? Or did he just want something to offer to her as restitution for the pain he’d caused in her life?
The desire to see him again burned like a fire in her heart.
But first, she needed to visit her sisters, to thank them for their loving support. From them, she would find out where James was staying.
She reached the upper floor and headed down the corridor. Curiously, no sounds of laughter or conversation emanated from the nursery. It was mid-afternoon. Perhaps her sisters were putting the children down for their naps.
In the doorway of the schoolroom, she halted. A man stood by the windows. James.
His presence here caught her by surprise. Her throat squeezed so tightly she could scarcely breathe. James didn’t notice her. His full attentio
n was focused downward on the bundle in his arms. He cradled Ella to his broad chest and murmured to her.
As he stroked his finger over her face, the baby happily waved her arms. He caught one tiny flailing fist and kissed it. Ella giggled and cooed.
Blythe’s heart melted. In all of her life, she had never witnessed a more beautiful sight. It only served to reaffirm the fact that for better or for worse, she loved James.
But did he truly love her? Oh, she prayed so!
The sound of voices came from an adjoining room. Laughing and talking, her sisters and their husbands came out of the wing that housed the children’s bedchambers.
Lindsey spied her first. “My stars, it’s the prodigal sister!”
“Blythe!” Portia said with a cry of joy. “You’re back!”
Both rushed toward her, and Blythe hastened to meet them halfway. The three of them embraced in a tearful, happy reunion.
“We didn’t know you were coming,” Lindsey said, “or we’d have been watching for you.”
“Have a care while hugging me,” Portia said, holding up her hands to show smudges of black on her fingers. “Arthur was supposed to be napping, but he found a piece of charcoal and drew all over the wall.”
“I set him to work helping the maid wash it off,” Colin said. “Alas, the little imp seems to be enjoying his punishment too much.”
James stood unmoving, cradling Ella and staring at Blythe.
“Speaking of washing,” Portia said, with a glance at him, “I’m afraid I shall have to go do something about my hands.”
Lindsey took her daughter from James. “It’s nearly time for Ella’s feeding. I’ll take her downstairs.”
She sent her husband a meaningful frown.
“Colin and I will be off to my club, then.” Thane cast a sly look at James. “I don’t suppose we could interest you in accompanying us, old chap?”
“What? No.”
While speaking, James had not taken his eyes off Blythe. The fierce intensity of his dark eyes thrilled her to the core. The rest of the family vanished out the door. Alone, they stood gazing at each other from halfway across the room.
James took a step toward her. “Blythe, I realize you came to visit your sisters, not me. But … oh God, I feared I might never see you again.”
“I gave you no cause to think otherwise.” She remembered their last meeting, when he had come on horseback to her grandmother’s cottage. “James, I know that I spoke harshly to you. I was hurt and angry—”
“I deserved every word of your reprimand.” He closed the distance between them and stood before her. “I would very much like to speak to you in private. Will you trust me enough to come to my bedchamber?”
Surprise flitted through her. “You’re staying here?”
“Your sisters can be quite formidable. They said it was wise to keep a close eye on one’s enemy.”
As they walked down one flight of stairs, Blythe knew her sisters had only been teasing him. They didn’t regard James as an enemy. Not if Portia and Colin treated him with the warmth of family. Not if Lindsey and Thane had trusted him to hold their precious baby daughter.
Blythe felt a rush of gladness that her family approved of him. It gave her hope that she and James could right the wrongs between them.
He opened a door and ushered her into a bedchamber with sumptuous blue hangings and a large four-poster bed.
Stepping inside, she was assailed by a pang of memory. “This is the room where you changed into the garb of Prince Nicolai.”
“Yes, which is why your sisters have taken to calling it the Ambrosia Bedchamber.”
She watched him close the door. “You were reluctant to play the prince, even when I offered to pay you fifty pounds. My scheme must have complicated your plan to search my parents’ house.”
He grimaced. “It was clever of you to dangle a reward in front of me. Had I refused, you might have guessed I wasn’t really a footman.”
The thought of his deception still hurt. Blythe crossed her arms to hug herself. “All that time, I believed you were a servant, James. I fought against my feelings for you because I thought you were forbidden to me. But I never knew who you really were.”
But she knew now—didn’t she? She had experienced his warmth when he had made love to her. She had learned his character when her father had written to say James had refused the money. And she had known his heart when she had seen him holding baby Ella.
James led her to a chaise, the same one where he had told her that enchanting story about Princess Amora of Ambrosia, who had been captured by an ogre and rescued by a stable lad. “Please sit,” he said. “I do hope you’ll hear me out.”
She sat. Despite the remnants of pain, it was a pleasure just to look at him again. And she did so want to know what was in his heart.
“From the moment we met, I’ve done everything wrong,” he said, walking back and forth in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back. “I should never have posed as a servant. I should have confronted your father directly, without the subterfuge. I’ve done a terrible wrong to your parents.”
“A wrong?” she asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “James, their crime needed to be exposed. They lied to me all these years. They are not George and Edith Crompton. They are Timothy Arkwright and Mercy Bleasdale.”
“Yet there are mitigating circumstances to take into account. Your ayah made that quite clear to me shortly after I returned to London.”
Lindsey had written that Kasi had known about the ruse from the start. “What did she say?”
James flashed Blythe a troubled look. “She told the same tale that your parents related, though in more detail. It was quite grim to hear how my cousin and his wife contracted cholera on the road, while caught up in a mass exodus from Calcutta. Kasi said they begged your parents with their dying breath to watch over their two young daughters. How can I despise your mother and father for doing just that?”
Blythe bowed her head. She could imagine the utter chaos of panicked people fleeing the city, her mother as a frightened maidservant charged with the care of two babies. How awful it must have been.…
James came to stand before her. “Blythe, I’ve come to see that your parents are not the villains I thought them to be. They acted as they did to protect your sisters.”
She lifted her chin to look up at him. “How can you ever forgive them, though? They stole your fortune.”
“Had they not done so, there would be nothing left of it, anyway. My father was still alive at the time. Had the inheritance gone to him, it would have been squandered at the dice table.”
“But Mama would have shot you, James. I don’t know that I can ever absolve her of that.”
He shrugged. “We all make mistakes. It was a tremendous shock to her to see her whole life being snatched away. She has since apologized to me, and there can be nothing gained from harboring ill will toward her.”
He was right, of course. Besides, Blythe, too, had made her share of mistakes, when she had pursued the duke instead of following her heart.
She felt the lightening of a burden. To know that James was as wise as her granny only made her fall more deeply in love with him. She longed to feel his arms around her, but when she would have risen, he waved her back onto the chaise.
“That is not all I’ve done wrong,” he went on. “These past weeks I’ve had ample time to reflect on my dishonorable behavior toward you, Blythe. I should have courted you honestly as a gentleman. Instead, I seduced you and took your innocence. I lured you from your home under false pretenses. I tricked you into marrying me.”
“You did deceive me,” she allowed. “However, the seduction was mutual.”
He fell to his knees. Taking her hands in his, he gently kissed her fingers. “Blythe, I love you with all my heart. I don’t know if you’re willing to live with me as my wife, but if by the grace of God you are, we can have a proper wedding here in London with all the ton.”
She touched his cheek. “James, I love you, too. I’m perfectly happy with the wedding we had. Besides, all the bother would only stop us from returning to Lancashire.”
His dark eyes searched hers as if he could not quite believe she was his. “There will be no more lies from me, I swear it. I only wish there was some way to make up for all my duplicity.”
“There is something.”
“By God,” he said passionately, “tell me, and I’ll do it.”
She rose from the chaise, strolled to the bed, and smiled at him. “You can give me a kiss so perfect and passionate that it will be immortalized by the bards for a thousand years to come.”
And so he did.
ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS TITLES
BY OLIVIA DRAKE
Seducing the Heiress
Never Trust a Rogue
Praise for
NEVER TRUST A ROGUE
“Olivia Drake will keep readers coming back for more.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Drake is a consummate storyteller who cleverly blends intrigue, suspense, and sensuality into a pulse-pounding mystery, à la Amanda Quick. Give yourself plenty of time to savor this fast-paced, non-stop delight of a book.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews (TOP PICK, 4½ stars)
SEDUCING THE HEIRESS
“This book has it all: a fabulous hero, a wonderful heroine, and sizzling passion. Read it and watch the sparks fly!”
—Christina Dodd
“Guaranteed to seduce readers everywhere. This book is something truly special, an unforgettable story filled with passion, intrigue, and sweep-you-away romance.”
—Susan Wiggs
“This decadent Regency romance is carried along by a spunky heroine and sumptuous descriptions of upper-class life.… There’s enough glitz to keep readers coming back.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Drake entices readers [and] twists the traditional with an unconventional heroine and a bad-boy hero that readers will adore.”