Wicked Christmas (Regency Sinners 8)

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Wicked Christmas (Regency Sinners 8) Page 9

by Carole Mortimer


  Pru gave a dismissive snort. “But look at the Christmas present I have given you.”

  “I was happy with the brocade waistcoat you gave me last night.”

  “Are you not made even happier by the appearance of our children?” she teased.

  “Well, of course I am happy. It is only that… God, Pru, I feared I might lose you.” His fingers tightened about hers. “Childbirth is far more frightening than I had ever imagined.”

  Pru chuckled. “I have heard it said there would only be one child per family if the men were the ones to give birth to them. I thought Dr. Easton was like to blow a blood vessel when you insisted on remaining with me throughout.”

  Titus scowled. “The man’s a fool if he thought for a moment there was ever a possibility of my abandoning you.”

  Pru now eyed him curiously. “You refused to tell me earlier why you initially returned without Dr. Easton…?”

  “You were rather occupied at the time, love.”

  “And now I am not.”

  Titus avoided meeting his wife’s gaze. “Can we not just sit here quietly together and enjoy our babies for now?”

  “They are both asleep,” she reasoned.

  “Then each other?” he said hopefully.

  “What are you hiding, Titus?” she prompted shrewdly.

  “God, you really are the most infuriating and determined woman!”

  “And to think not half an hour ago, you assured me I was the cleverest and most beautiful woman in the world,” Pru drawled.

  He had said that in the euphoria of the twins being safely born within minutes of each other. It had been true before the twins were born. It was no less true now. It never would be. He adored Pru and always would. “Dr. Easton was…otherwise engaged when I knocked on the door of his bedchamber,” he revealed reluctantly.

  Pru’s eyes widened. “With whom?”

  “A gentleman does not discuss—”

  “Monique,” Pru stated with certainty. “Who else could it be?” she reasoned at Titus’s irritated frown. “The two of them were completely enthralled with each other from the moment they met. And you walked in on the two of them together last night?”

  Titus shifted uncomfortably. “I did not exactly— They were in bed and both obviously naked.”

  “Before or after the deed had been done?”

  “Pru—”

  “Titus.”

  “After,” he mumbled. “Definitely after,” he added as he recalled Monique’s flushed and disheveled appearance and Easton’s less than pristine one.

  “Well, that is something, at least.” Pru nodded. “Once I am mobile, after your having interrupted them so inconveniently, we shall have to see what we can do to…further facilitate the…alliance.”

  “Pru, I do not think you should interfere—”

  “Of course I shall interfere.” She snorted. “It is what I am best at.”

  “I beg to differ,” Titus drawled dryly.

  She chuckled. “Unfortunately, there will be none of that until the babies are several weeks old.”

  “Pity.”

  “Come and join me for a little nap, my love.” Pru patted the bed beside her enticingly. “Before the babies wake demanding to be fed again.”

  This, Titus acknowledged as he settled on the bed and took his wife in his arms, was to be their life from now on. Moments snatched together between the demands of their son and daughter.

  Titus could envisage no happier future.

  Chapter 15

  “My brother…?” Nik repeated uncertainly as he continued to stare at the younger man.

  A man with the same dark hair as his own. The same height and build. A similar arrogant countenance as the one Nik looked at in the mirror each morning when he shaved.

  “Half brother,” Easton corrected. “We shared a father but not a mother.”

  Nik blinked at the other man’s easy confirmation of Angel’s suspicion. “I do not… It is… How is that possible?”

  “I believe I was conceived in the same manner all children are,” the other man said dryly.

  “Impertinent puppy.”

  “Arrogant arse.”

  “Gentlemen, please,” Angel rebuked gently.

  Easton sighed. “I apologize for the crudeness of our exchange, Your Grace.”

  Nik nodded. “As do I. Explain,” he instructed the other man.

  The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “I am told you were five when your father and mother died?”

  “Yes…”

  “My mother was six months pregnant with me at that time. She had been duly dispatched several months earlier from Stonewell House in London, as all female servants are who become pregnant by the ‘master’ of the household. As if they are the ones solely to blame for their condition,” he added in disgust.

  “I… But…”

  “Sit down before you fall down, love,” Angel encouraged as she guided Nik to one of the armchairs. “There.” She placed their baby son on his lap before sitting on the arm of the chair.

  Nik immediately felt grounded, less unsure, by the solid presence of Joshua in his arms and Angel at his side. “I was told my parents were not happily married, but I did not… I had no idea…”

  “Of the existence of your bastard half brother?” Martin Easton derided. “Your uncle and guardian knew of my existence.”

  Nik blinked. “He did?”

  The doctor nodded. “My mother went to him after I was born. Apparently, he took one look at me and knew she was telling the truth as to my paternity because I looked so much like you did as a baby.” His top lip curled back. “He settled a small allowance on her and put money in trust for me, which I was to inherit when I reached the age of one and twenty. My mother had died by that time, so I used the money to go abroad to train to become a doctor.”

  Nik had been completely without family, apart from the other Sinners, until he met and fell in love with Angelique, and their son was born almost four years later. His Uncle Percy, never a demonstrative man at the best of times, had died when Nik was three and twenty.

  Now it appeared that uncle had known Nik had a brother all that time, one aged five years younger than himself.

  Martin Easton was his brother.

  The knowledge filled Nik with euphoria mixed with puzzlement. “Why did you never come forward and claim our connection?”

  “Would you have believed me?” Easton scorned.

  “Yes. No… I do not know.”

  “Exactly.”

  He leveled his narrowed gaze on the other man. “Why did you choose to set up a practice here, of all places?”

  “Nik, you made a mistake once in regard to myself,” Angel reminded softly. “Do not do so again now in regard to your brother.”

  He nodded acknowledgment of the rebuke, knowing he had almost lost Angel once because of his incorrect assumptions. He made the question less accusing. “Did you choose to come Stonewell to set up your practice for a specific reason?”

  Easton nodded. “One that I all too quickly discovered was an utterly ridiculous illusion on my part,” he dismissed.

  “How so?” Nik prompted.

  The other man shrugged. “I believe when I first came here, I had some romantic notion that with time, the two of us might become friends, and that one day, I might even be able to tell you of our connection.”

  “You no longer feel that way?”

  Martin’s gaze swept over him with scathing criticism. “No.”

  “Because I am an arrogant arse and you are an impertinent puppy?” Nik drawled. “From what I have observed, that is not so different from what and how other brothers think of and behave with each other. It does not prevent them from also feeling affection for each other.”

  “I… You…” The doctor gave a shake of his head. “I believe one has to have an underlying respect, each for the other, for that to become possible.”

  “And you do not respect me?”

  “No more than you respect m
e.”

  “I have a deep respect for you as a doctor, know I have you to thank for the good health of my wife and the safe delivery of my son. As, no doubt, does Romney.”

  “And I respect you very much as the Duke of Stonewell,” Easton acknowledged with an irritated scowl. “I have no doubt that it is your management of the estate and surrounding area which has helped to make Stonewell, although relatively small, such a prosperous town. You are also, from what I have observed, a good husband, father, and friend.”

  “But?”

  “None of those things changes the fact you are also arrogant, unreasonable, and infuriating.”

  “It takes one to know one,” Nik drawled.

  The doctor’s eyes widened. “I am not… I have never… You…”

  “Oh, this is truly wonderful!” Angel gave a happy clap of her hands as she stood to cross the room to go up on her tiptoes so that she could place a kiss on one of Martin’s tense cheeks. “It is no wonder I liked you from the first.” She glanced at Nik. “And my darling husband did not.”

  “I have never disliked him,” he instantly defended. “He’s just too bloody handsome to be doctor to my wife. As well as unbending and too forthright in his opinions.”

  “Well, of course he is.” Angel chuckled. “How could he be any other when he is a slightly younger version of you?” She turned back to the doctor. “In future, I shall call you Martin, and you shall call me Angelique. And you.” She turned to Nik as he gave a low growl. “You shall call him brother.”

  Brother.

  Nik had a brother.

  After being confined to her bedchamber for almost ten hours, only half an hour of that time spent in washing herself and changing into a gown suitable for the day ahead, Monique still had no idea what it was the Duke of Stonewell suspected her of doing. It was made even more difficult to fathom when he had implied it was somehow connected to his mother-in-law and her surprising demise a year ago.

  Lady Jacqueline Kingston had not been an easy woman to work for or with, being both demanding and critical of almost everything everyone did for her, including her own daughter and son-in-law. Indeed, it had been after a disagreement with the Duke of Stonewell that he had ordered Lady Jacqueline and her lover, Lord Cedric Holmes, to immediately leave this estate in Kent. Monique had received her own callous dismissal from that lady’s service the moment their carriage arrived in London.

  It had seemed to Monique at the time that Lady Jacqueline took spiteful delight in informing her the Duchess of Stonewell no longer required her services either.

  Not that she’d had time to dwell on any of that. Monique’s main concern for many months after being left without employment and virtually penniless in the harshness that was London had been merely to survive.

  Her employment by Lady Jacqueline had been somewhat unorthodox from the beginning, that lady having sought her out and offered her the post of lady’s maid rather than the other way about. Alone in the world, with only her skill as a seamstress to sustain her and taught to her by her now-deceased mother, Monique had decided that a steady employment and somewhere comfortable to live was a better option than continuing as she had been since her mother died.

  The following three years had not been easy ones, Lady Jacqueline being an exacting and difficult woman to please. Her daughter, however, was neither of those things, and Monique had allowed herself to become fond of Angelique Sinclair.

  Only to once again find herself alone after Lady Jacqueline so abruptly dismissed her.

  But Monique had never for a moment suspected that Lady Jacqueline had died shortly after that dismissal.

  A death the duke seemed reluctant to talk about.

  Monique had no doubt that when the duke was ready to talk to her that he would do so in no uncertain terms. At which time, she hoped to have the opportunity to defend herself against whatever accusations he might care to make.

  Monique turned as the door of her bedchamber opened after the briefest of knocks.

  Foster, the Stonewell’s haughty butler, stood stiffly in the doorway. “The duke and duchess require your presence in the duchess’s private parlor.” It was an order rather than a request.

  No doubt related exactly as the duke had originally worded it.

  Monique gave an inclination of her head. “Very well.” She picked up her skirts and followed the butler from the room.

  Whatever the duke wished to say to her, Monique had every intention of leaving Stonewell Park as soon as she had the freedom to do so.

  She only hoped that Martin would allow her to stay with him until she could make arrangements to return to London.

  Chapter 16

  It was more than a little disconcerting, then, to find Martin was also present when the butler presented Monique in the duchess’s private parlor a few minutes later.

  He was standing with his back toward one of the bay windows that looked out over the garden at the back of the house, the remoteness of his expression making him appear almost as unapproachable as the duke standing beside the lit fireplace.

  There was certainly none of the gentle and considerate lover of the night before in Martin’s demeanor.

  Because the duke had now told Martin of his suspicions in regard to her, and Martin believed him without so much as asking for her opinion on the subject?

  Her gaze dropped from meeting his as she instead turned to look at the duke. “I take it from the fact you have now deigned to send for me that you intend to tell me what it is you believe me to be guilty of?” she stated without emotion.

  Martin had never admired Monique more than he did at this moment. She was every bit as regal as the duchess, her chin held high, her expression one of cool query.

  He stepped forward. “Monique—”

  “I have asked for your forbearance in this matter,” Stonewell reminded him.

  Yes, he had and, after hearing all the circumstances, Martin had reluctantly agreed to allow the duke to have his say. But that did not mean he believed Monique guilty of anything or that he intended to allow her to be browbeaten or bullied by Stonewell.

  “Then I suggest you get on with it and stop torturing the poor girl with your usual superiority,” Martin snapped.

  Stonewell’s eyes narrowed. “If you cannot control your outbursts, then I suggest you leave us.”

  “I am not one of your lackeys you can order about,” Martin retaliated heatedly.

  “More’s the pity,” the duke snapped.

  “Fuck off.” Martin glared.

  “This really is too delicious!” The duchess chuckled her delight as she watched them from where she sat on the chaise with her baby son on her knees. “Oh, not your own situation, my dear,” she sobered to reassure a wide-eyed Monique. “Although I should like you to know from the onset that I do not believe you to be guilty of anything.”

  “Angelique!” her husband remonstrated impatiently.

  “Well, I do not,” she reasoned before once again turning to Monique. “And I do believe my husband has met his match in your Martin,” she confided gleefully.

  Monique thought so too. Although he was not her Martin. He would surely be standing at her side now, in support of her, if that was the case. But neither did this outspoken Martin equate with the man who had previously taken such pains not to upset the duke.

  Her chin rose as she looked at the older man. “What is it you wish to discuss with me, Your Grace?”

  “When I spoke to you earlier this morning and accused you of hiding something, your gaze refused to meet mine— There, you did it again,” Stonewell pounced triumphantly.

  “Because you are scaring the hell out of her, as you do most people!” Martin accused.

  “It is a pity I do not have the same effect on you,” the duke snapped back.

  “He is right, though, darling,” the duchess soothed. “Perhaps try to make your questions less…accusatory?”

  Under any other circumstances, Monique might have found this exchange
amusing. But as she was the one being accused, she merely found it an unnecessary delay in resolving this situation so that she could leave Stonewell Park and never return.

  “Earlier, you seemed to imply that whatever you believe me guilty of is somehow connected to your mother-in-law?” Monique reminded. “I am sorry for you loss, by the way, Your Grace,” she offered her sympathies to the duchess.

  “I am not,” Angelique immediately scorned.

  This situation became more and more of a puzzle to Monique. Admittedly, Angelique Sinclair had borne the brunt of her mother’s demanding ways, but not enough to wish the other woman dead, surely?

  “My mother-in-law was the one to employ you,” the duke stated.

  Monique eyed him warily. “Yes…”

  “How did that employment occur?”

  She frowned. “In the same manner all employment occurs. Lady Jacqueline and I met, and she offered me the post of lady’s maid to herself and Her Grace.”

  “But how did that meeting come about in the first place? Lady Jacqueline already had a lady’s maid at the time, nor did she even so much as hint she intended to replace her. Then suddenly, the other maid was gone and you had taken her place.”

  “I know nothing of this other maid.” Monique evaded answering directly.

  “Were you perhaps recommended to Lady Jacqueline?”

  “No.”

  “Then why did she interview you for that post?”

  “I did not say that she did.”

  “But—”

  “I said Lady Jacqueline and I met, and she offered me the post of lady’s maid.” Monique continued to answer the duke’s questions as truthfully as she could. As truthfully as she dare. “I was badly in need of employment at the time, and so I accepted the offer.”

  “My mother-in-law was not known for the goodness of her heart,” Stonewell snapped.

  “No,” Monique acknowledged heavily, well aware of how badly she had been deceived by the older woman.

  “Stonewell, you are digressing from the real purpose of this conversation,” Martin cut in firmly. “Start at the beginning, as you did when you explained the situation to me,” he instructed the other man impatiently.

 

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