by Laura Landon
Lady Lindville, of course, didn’t find anything humorous in Lady Clythebrook’s statement. She placed her napkin on the table with a snap and leaned forward. “That’s not what I mean and you know it, Constance. The marquess’ reputation has left behind it a dead woman whom he abandoned when he realized she was carrying his bastard and a child of no more than four to find his own way in the world. And the man has not even made an effort to find the boy. Has he, Josephine?”
All eyes darted to where she was sitting.
Josie cleared her voice then answered. “The marquess has inquired after the child, but—”
“And you let him see him?”
Lady Lindville was aghast and so were the other women at the table. In unison, they stared at her, waiting for an answer.
“No.”
“Your reason for refusing him was…?”
“Because… Well, because…”
“I’ll tell you why,” Lady Lindville finished for her. “Because Josephine knows how disreputable he is. She knows to keep the boy as far away from him as possible.”
Josie couldn’t admit Lady Lindville was right. It would sound much more damning coming from her. She was spared having to lie when Lady Clythebrook interrupted.
“That’s enough, Lavinia. You don’t have to like the Marquess of Rainforth, but I won’t allow you to blacken his name with lies and accusations.”
“Well!”
Lady Lindville rose from the table. There was a venomous look in her eyes that no one missed. They all lowered their gazes, everyone except Josie and Lady Clythebrook.
“You’ll regret this, Constance. Mark my words. The marquess cannot be trusted any more than his father could. If word ever reaches London that you’ve aligned yourself with him, you’ll be ruined.”
“Society thrives on shocking revelations,” Lady Clythebrook answered.
“Society swallows such offenders whole. If you believe that won’t be your fate, then you are a fool.”
With that, she shot Lady Clythebrook a frigid glare that sent chills down Josie’s spine. “Please tell my son I am ready to leave.”
The order was directed at Josie and there was a condescending tone to Lady Lindville’s voice that was always there when she spoke to her. As if she needed to remind Josie that even though she’d been raised in Lord Clythebrook’s house and given privileges she was lucky to have been given, she would never be more than a bastard daughter of little consequence.
“I’ll send for Banks—” Lady Clythebrook started to say but Josie rose to her feet.
“No need. I saw Lord Lindville remove himself to the patio.” She nodded toward the double French doors. A terrace ran along both the dining room and the study where the men had gone and Josie had seen Lindville pass the window. “I’ll tell him he’s wanted.”
“He probably went outside to escape the undesirable company in the study.”
Josie ignored the snide comment and went through the doors that led outside. She was grateful to escape Lady Lindville’s spiteful insinuations and inhaled the crisp, cleansing nighttime air the minute she closed the door behind her.
At first she didn’t see Baron Lindville. The flagstone terrace ran the length of the house and he’d stepped over to the far side where he would be out of view. She watched him lift a glass to his mouth and empty the contents, then tip a half-full bottle he must have taken from the study and fill his glass again. If he wasn’t already drunk, he soon would be. He slowly turned when she took her first step toward him.
“Your mother wishes to leave, sir.”
He lifted his glass again and drank. “I imagine she does.” He took a faltering step and reached out his arm to steady himself. “You’ll extend my heartfelt thanks to Lady Clythebrook for a most enlightening evening.”
“Yes. Of course.” Baron Lindville gave her a stiff bow and started to leave. Josie stepped closer to the cement railing that surrounded the patio and leaned against it. “What are we going to do?” she said, not asking really, just voicing her question out loud.
“Do?” Lindville looked at her over his shoulder. He smiled. “Nothing, Miss Foley. We aren’t going to do anything.”
“But—”
He held up a hand to stop her words, then looked out into the moonlit darkness. “It’s too late to do anything, and from the reaction of our esteemed neighbors, there’s nothing to be done.”
“But the children?”
He dropped his head back on his shoulders and laughed. The sound was a low and sinister echo that matched his voice when he spoke. “Yes, the children. It’s always the children with you, isn’t it?”
He reached for the bottle he’d set down earlier and poured some of the liquid into the glass and drank it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ll see to Mother.”
Josie watched him walk back into the house by the door off the dining room but she didn’t follow him. She needed time to sort through what was happening. Even Cornelius Sharpe seemed to approve of Rainforth’s venture, and it was to his shops the smuggled goods were sold. Surely he realized that the cloth goods and wines and tobaccos he bought at such a reasonable rate had questionable origins? But of course he didn’t realize that the goods that arrived every quarter came ashore directly below the pasture where the Marquess of Rainforth wanted to put his cattle. Or that once the area was inhabited, the risk would be too great and all deliveries would cease.
Josie thought of all that would be lost and shuddered. She wrapped her arms around her middle and hugged herself, both for support and to ward off the cold that seeped thought her. She spun around when the door behind her opened and closed. It was the Marquess of Rainforth.
“I met a maid Lady Clythebrook had sent with this,” he said, walking toward her with a shawl. “I said I’d deliver it.”
“Thank you.”
He stepped behind her and placed the shawl around her shoulders. It wasn’t her imagination that he let his hands linger on her shoulders. Nor was it her imagination that her entire body warmed from his touch. She hated the way her body betrayed her.
“Have the guests gone home?” she said, turning around to face him. She used the motion as an excuse to put some distance between them.
“Lady Lindville and her son left a few minutes ago. The rest are preparing to leave now.”
“I should go in then.” She started to leave but his words stopped her.
“Lady Clythebrook is doing fine. Stay.”
Josie turned back to look out into the darkness. Even though the cold was going through her, she stayed because she didn’t want to go inside and offer pleasant farewells when her mind was consumed with concerns for the children. She breathed a deep breath and pulled the shawl closer around her.
“You’re cold.”
He stepped up behind her and placed his jacket around her shoulders.
“Just a little,” she said on a sigh.
He didn’t remove his hands right away, but kept them clasped around her upper arms. For a brief moment, they stood immobile, his body so close he touched her. Then he stepped away and Josie clutched the lapels of his jacket to bring the fabric tighter around her.
The velvet was still warm from his body and Josie brushed her face against the lush material. It smelled a mixture of clean soap and the pungent odor of tobacco.
“This is the second time you’ve suffered the cold to keep me warm,” she said, lifting her gaze. He stood close beside her, his nearness creating as much warmth as the jacket.
“The pleasure is mine.”
She took a deep breath. “I’d be lying if I tried to assure you Lady Lindville’s intent was not to cause harm.”
He didn’t answer, but turned to look up at the stars.
“Is her reaction so common then?” she continued.
She saw the slight smile that curved his mouth. He leaned one hip against the stone balustrade and crossed his arms over his chest. That put him eye level with her and when his deep gray eyes locked with hers, her
heart began a slow, steady race that picked up speed with each breath.
“Everyone who was affected by what my father did feels justified in their condemnation. Lady Lindville’s reaction tonight was no different than her son’s was yesterday.”
Josie could no longer hold his gaze. “I’m sure Baron Lindville was just overreacting.”
“Was he? In what regard? In his condemning comments concerning my father? Or his insinuations of danger? Or in the warning he issued to stay away from you?”
She turned toward him. “Baron Lindville wasn’t warning you to stay away from me.”
Unable to stay so close to him, she took one step away. “He has no reason to care who I associate with. Nor does he have the right. We’re neighbors, and if he feels any closeness it’s only because he knows someday I will inherit Clythebrook Estate and there will always be an association between us.”
“You will inherit Clythebrook Estate?”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled at the incredulity she saw on his face. “Now who is surprised?”
“Forgive me.”
“That’s quite all right. Who would ever imagine Lady Clythebrook would leave her estate to an orphan? And a female at that?”
Josie ran her fingers over the soft lapel of his jacket. This was not a topic she enjoyed talking about. “Clythebrook Estate isn’t entailed. I knew even before the Earl of Clythebrook died that the estate would be mine someday.”
“Does Baron Lindville know this?”
“I’m sure he does. Lady Clythebrook hasn’t kept it a secret.”
“I can see where your friendship would be in his best interest.”
“A friendship between neighboring estates is always in everyone’s best interest.”
“Yes, it is.”
From the corner of her eye, Josie saw him rise from where he’d been sitting. Her heart raced when he closed the distance between them and she knew she couldn’t allow him to stand that close to her if she wanted to keep a clear head. She had to make one more attempt to convince him to give up his scheme.
“How old are you, Lord Rainforth?”
She looked over her shoulder to see his dark eyebrows arch. Her question had surprised him.
“I will be thirty on my next birthday.”
“And how old were you when you last stepped foot on St. Stephen’s?”
“I believe I was eight or nine.”
She pivoted to face him. His eyes were dark and he cocked his head a fraction to one side, which gave him a roguish appearance. “And during that time, where did you live?”
“In London mostly, although I spent a month or two each year at one of the Rainforth estates.” He paused, then asked, “Is there a reason you are interested?”
“Yes, there is. Why did you spend so little time away from London?”
His lips curved upward to form a smile that changed his features from breathtakingly handsome to dangerously magnificent.
“Because I was young and carefree and didn’t want to rusticate in the country when there was so much to see and do in London.”
“But you do now? Want to…rusticate at the ripe old age of nine and twenty? And you have chosen St. Stephen’s as the place where you wish to rusticate?”
“Do you find that so improbable?”
“Yes, I do. You’ll excuse me if I have a hard time believing that after an absence of more than twenty years, you have all of the sudden developed a deep love for country living. Your appreciation for all that London has to offer is well known. So is your reputation. Tales of your youthful peccadilloes reached even us humble folk so far from the City. Yet, now you want everyone to believe you’ll be content to live at St. Stephen’s? But what will happen if in a month or two you decide you are tired of it here and yearn to return to London? How long do you think everyone who was to have benefited from your cattle venture will survive when you abandon us?”
“Abandon you? You don’t trust me to see this venture through?”
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “Of course I don’t trust you. You expect all of us to put our faith in you and the scheme you’ve concocted when your reputation only warns us to be wary of you. I’m sorry, sir. Too many children rely on the decisions I make for them. Decisions that provide their next meal.”
“Then make the right choice. Just consider how this will benefit the children and simplify the running of the orphanage if my cattle venture works.”
“In a year perhaps. Isn’t that what you just told Lady Clythebrook’s guests?”
“Yes, but in the long run it will secure the welfare of every child in the orphanage.”
“I didn’t realize the welfare of our children interested you so.”
“The welfare of every child interests me.”
“Every child? Or just one?”
“Every child, Miss Foley. And one in particular.”
“Well, Lord Rainforth. Every child’s welfare interests me as well. And I will always do what I consider best for each and every one of them.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’m also sure you realize it would be in everyone’s best interest if you’d tell me where I can find my child.”
Josie’s resolve to keep a smile on her face faltered as her temper soared. “Best for whom? Certainly not the child.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know if Mrs. Gardner intended for you to assume responsibility for her child, she would have left instructions to that affect. She did not. And why should she? Not once during the time she lived in the dower house on St. Stephen’s did you come to even check on the child. I can only assume your lack of interest indicated you didn’t care.”
“You are assuming a great deal. Did you ever speak to Mrs. Gardner about me or the living arrangements struck between us?”
“You know I did not.”
“Then may I ask how you’ve acquired such extensive knowledge regarding my interest?”
“Because you are no different than any other peer of the realm. A great number of the children at Sacred Heart are a result of the immoral lifestyle in which men such as yourself engage. The children are branded as bastards from birth and come here to live because they have nowhere else to go. They are children no one wants.”
Josie took great satisfaction in watching Rainforth’s eyebrows arch upward. “Does that surprise you?”
“Surely you can’t cast every titled nobleman in such an unfavorable light.”
“I can and I do. It is a common practice for the titled to take their pleasures outside the bonds of marriage with little concern as to what might result from such a union. There is, after all, no great risk to the male. It is the woman who suffers the consequences. Producing a child, however, carries with it a great responsibility for both parents. A responsibility the titled of this land think they have no obligation to assume.”
“If that’s your opinion, then why do you think I’m so determined to find the child now?”
“I don’t know. Curiosity, perhaps. To at least be able to boast to your exalted circle of friends that you’ve made an attempt to care for the child. After all, how would it look if anyone found out you didn’t even know your own child’s name?”
“His name is Charles, Miss Foley.”
Josie reeled back a step in shock. He knew. Somehow he’d discovered little Charlie’s name.
For several long, tense moments, the two of them faced each other, muscles taut, backs rigid and straight, gazes locked. It was as if they both needed a moment to evaluate the other’s tactics and decide how to proceed. Finally, Josie unfolded the aching hands she didn’t realize she had clenched at her side. “How did you find out his name?”
“Obviously not everyone has heard your edict to keep the boy’s whereabouts concealed. One of the tenant’s wives I visited earlier today thought the boy’s name was Charlie. Your reaction just now confirms it.”
The Marquess of Rainforth turned to look out onto the garden, then slowly lifted his
gaze to the millions of stars in the sky. “He’s mine.”
His soft, gentle voice slid through the tension and wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “I know.”
“I want him.”
“He’s happy where he is. He has friends.”
“He’ll be happy with me.”
“No.” Josie lost her grip on the deep-down anger she thought she had under control. “Why are you doing this? He can never be your legitimate heir. You can’t want him. No member of the nobility cares about—”
She clamped her hand over her mouth to stop the words.
“Is that what happened to you?”
The air left her lungs. She swallowed hard, trying to recover quickly. Damn the man. That he had the power to expose the scars she thought no one could see infuriated her. “What happened to me is none of your concern. But the events of my life taught me several valuable lessons. And I will use the knowledge I’ve gained to protect the children under my care. You have no influence here. None.”
“But I do, Miss Foley. I have a great deal of influence. And power. And I won’t hesitate to use everything at my disposal to get my son.”
Josie recognized the determination behind his threat. She stiffened her spine and faced him squarely. “Then you’ll have the fight of your life. The children are mine to protect.”
“You can’t protect the whole world, Miss Foley.”
“I don’t intend to protect all of it. Just the parts that I can.”
“And who will protect you?”
“I can take care of myself. But the children have no one but me.”
With a heavy sigh, he reached out to smooth the collar of his jacket beneath her chin. “We continuously seem to be at loggerheads with one another. I want you to give over my son, Charlie, but you refuse. I want you to support my plan to make our estates profitable, but you refuse. I want you to rely on me to help the children at Sacred Heart, but you can’t. What will it take before you give in on just one point?”
“A miracle, Lord Rainforth. It will take a miracle.”
His expression froze, then a smile slowly lifted the corners of his mouth. As if he couldn’t help himself, his lips separated and he smiled fully at her.