A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors

by Michelle Willingham

  Though she knew Jack had bedded many women over the years, this was the first time she had encountered one of his paramours in the flesh. Would it have been as distressing if they’d met before she became the latest in a long string of Jack’s conquests? Annabelle doubted it.

  Now she found herself wondering if he had employed the same endearments and seductive skills on her that he had practiced on Clarissa Reynard and so many other women. Had the courtesan roused him with sophisticated tricks that made her efforts seem clumsy and tiresome by comparison? Had she been a besotted fool to believe last night’s tryst with Jack had meant anything special to him?

  As her spirits sank under the weight of those questions, Annabelle almost forgot the baby in her arms. Accustomed to being the center of attention, little Sarah waved her arms and made an anxious sound intended to draw everyone’s notice away from the newcomer.

  “Ah!” cried Madame Reynard, her gaze distracted from Jack for the first time since her arrival. “My baby!”

  She swooped toward Annabelle, seized the child from her and began peppering Sarah’s small face with kisses between a rapid fire of lavish endearments.

  If the beautiful courtesan had cut off both her arms at the elbows, Annabelle could not have been more shocked or horrified.

  “My precious darling!” Madame gushed. “Not a day has gone by but I have regretted giving you up. How you must have missed me! But never fear—your mama has returned, dearest.”

  Being torn abruptly from Annabelle’s arms and made such a loud fuss over did not sit well with Sarah. She began to wriggle about with whimpers of distress that soon escalated to ear-splitting wails.

  It was all Annabelle could do to keep from joining in.

  So Clarissa Reynard was the baby’s mother after all?

  As Jack watched her shower the child with kisses, his mouth fell slack and he could not get it to close again. If she had borne little Sarah, that meant the child was his daughter, just as he’d believed she must be.

  Observing Clarissa’s delight at being reunited with their child, and her remorse for having left the baby, reminded him of a secret dream he’d once nurtured. For months after coming to Oakfield, he had hoped his mother might return from abroad, beg his forgiveness for all the trouble she’d caused and take him away from his uncle’s house to live with her again.

  It had taken him a long time to realize his dream would never come true. Now it seemed to revive once more—the opportunity to have a family again and to give his precious daughter one.

  But what would that mean for Annabelle and him? He tried to forget the wonder of making love to her and the storm of intense conflicting feelings he’d experienced afterward. Especially when she told him he was the man she’d always cared for, not Frederick. Bad enough his example had lured his beloved cousin away to war and death. Had he also stolen the heart of his cousin’s wife before Frederick had an opportunity to claim it? Jack was not certain he could live with that responsibility. In too many ways he was living the life Frederick deserved and should have had. To take it further would be a profound betrayal of the one person he had loved above all others.

  Annabelle must be mistaken about her feelings. Perhaps she’d only been swept away by his prowess in the bedchamber.

  “My dearest angel!” Clarissa cooed and kissed the baby, who had begun to cry. “How much you have grown since I saw you last. How I have missed you!”

  She glanced up at Jack over the head of their daughter. “You have taken such good care of her. I knew you would!”

  A hundred questions whirled in his mind like leaves in an autumn storm. “We have to talk, Clarissa.”

  She laughed. “I thought that was what we were doing.” To the baby she added, “Hush now, darling, so your dear papa and I can hear ourselves.”

  “We need to talk in private.” Jack swept a glance toward Gabriel and Polly then another toward Annabelle, which stopped short of meeting her eyes. “Would you give me a few minutes alone with Madame Reynard, please? And take Sarah. The way she is fussing, she probably needs to be changed.”

  Gabriel and Annabelle stood frozen, but Polly recovered sooner. “Of course, sir. Come along, little one.”

  She reached for the wailing baby, whom Clarissa surrendered with something like relief. Perhaps she’d assumed Sarah had outgrown such noisy expressions of displeasure.

  The child quieted at once when Polly bore her away. Their going seemed to jolt Gabriel and Annabelle from their trance, if not their muteness. The pair hurried off after Polly and the baby with urgent haste.

  Once they were gone, Jack inhaled a deep breath and motioned toward the sofa.

  Clarissa sank onto it and patted the cushion beside her. “Now, I am certain you must have many questions for me, dear Jack. I shall be happy to answer them all.”

  Many questions? That was an understatement. The difficulty was in knowing where to begin.

  Jack dropped onto the sofa beside the mother of his child. His legs no longer felt capable of supporting him. “Why did you not tell me you were carrying my baby? I would have looked after you both.”

  Clarissa gave a self-conscious little shrug. “After we parted, I accepted an offer to go to the West Indies with Sir Randolph Beauclare. He offered me very generous terms.”

  Jack knew Sir Randolph slightly. He had heard about the gentleman being appointed governor to the Caribbean island of St. Jerome.

  “I was very ill on the voyage.” Clarissa shuddered at the memory. Her face, which appeared to have been lightly bronzed by the southern sun, took on a greenish cast.

  Remembering his own violent seasickness on the voyages to Portugal and back, Jack could sympathize. A sea journey across the Atlantic lasted a good deal longer.

  “Only afterwards,” she continued, “did I realize part of my illness was due to my delicate condition.”

  “Why did you not write to me then?” Guilt for what he had unknowingly put her through sharpened Jack’s query.

  “But I did.” Clarissa’s lower lip quivered. She rummaged in her reticule for a handkerchief. “Did you not receive my message?”

  “Of course not!” How could she think otherwise? Jack was determined to persuade her. “I would have sent for you at once, provided any assistance you required. Your letter must have got lost. The Caribbean is infested with pirates and privateers. Then there are storms and wrecks. So many things could have prevented me from receiving your message. You must believe me—I never got it.”

  “I do believe you.” Clarissa gave a deep sigh of relief as she wiped away a tear. “Though at the time and in my condition, you can imagine what I thought.”

  Jack gave a rueful nod, as if he had intentionally ignored her plea. Surely he would not have—would he? “What did you do? How did you live?”

  “By my wits and my charm, as I have from the time I was little more than a child.” Clarissa tilted her delicate chin to a proud angle. “I acted as Sir Randolph’s mistress for as long as I was able and tried to save what I could to return to England. When I could no longer conceal my condition, Sir Randolph accused me of trying to palm off another man’s bastard on him. Of course I had no intention to doing any such thing. My only concern was for my child. He told me I must leave the island at once or he would have me locked away on trumped up charges.”

  “The blackguard!” Jack longed to lash out at the heartless governor as he had at Lord Hawthorne. The thought that his tiny, defenseless daughter might have been born into the sweltering squalor of a West Indian jail made his fists clench in impotent outrage. “No man of honor would treat a woman that way when she was with child.”

  Clarissa gave a world-weary shrug. “Even men of honor do not believe women like me merit any consideration. We are either a delightful convenience or a troublesome inconvenience to be treated accordingly. I accepted that harsh truth long ago. I expect no one but myself to look out for me.”

  Jack knew how it felt having no one but himself to rely on. He re
flected on that notion as she told him of her flight from St. Jerome to Jamaica and her efforts to gain passage back to England. At least he’d had his cousin Frederick. A whisper in his thoughts reminded him of Annabelle, but he could not afford to think of her just then.

  “By the time I reached London,” Clarissa continued, “I was ready to give birth any day and my money was almost gone. You cannot imagine a person so friendless as a light skirt with a bellyful and an empty purse.”

  “I wish you had come to me then.” Jack’s belly seethed with shame and his heart ached with pity for her plight. “I would have assisted you. I swear I would!”

  Clarissa considered for a moment then gave a reluctant nod. “I believe you would. But since you had not responded to my letter, can you blame me for thinking you were no better than Sir Randolph?”

  He could not blame her in the slightest. The harsh experiences of a lifetime had convinced her no one would care or take responsibility. Especially not the man who had gotten her with child then gone on to another woman’s bed without a backward glance. Would he ever be able to look himself in the mirror again without cringing?

  “It was all worth it when I first saw our baby’s dear wee face.” Clarissa lapsed into a smile of maternal pride and joy. “I was determined to keep her with me and provide for her myself. But then I fell ill and had no more money. I was afraid I would die and leave my poor darling all alone in the world. So I sent my maid to leave her where you would find her. I prayed you would take her in and care for her, which you did. I cannot thank you enough!”

  Even as he thanked his stars that she had been forced to leave little Sarah on his doorstep, Jack despised himself for rejoicing in her wretched situation. “There is only one thing I do not understand. Why did you not make clear in your note that Sarah was my child? It has been a point of considerable confusion between me and my friends.”

  For an instant Clarissa seemed at a loss for words, but then she replied. “I thought if you’d received my letter you would realize she was our child. I hoped once you saw her, your heart would be moved with pity and you would take her in. It never occurred to me that you would question her paternity. In spite of that, you have cared for her so well.”

  Her explanation made perfect sense, which was more than Jack could say for his intense, complicated feelings for Annabelle. “It has been my pleasure. No—more than that. It has been a privilege and a revelation. I had never given much thought to having children before. Now I cannot imagine my life without Sarah.”

  “It has been a perfect torment to be parted from her these past weeks.” Clarissa dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. “I did everything I could to get well and to recover from my financial losses so I can provide a proper home for her.”

  What was Clarissa trying to say? Her words seemed to press a delicate, razor-sharp blade against Jack’s throat. There was only one way a woman in her circumstances might ‘recover’ her fortune. How could he allow his innocent little daughter to grow up in a house with strange men coming and going at all hours, none ever staying?

  “That will not be necessary,” he insisted in a sharper tone than he intended. “I have more than sufficient income to provide for you both.”

  “Keep me, you mean?” Clarissa’s lips tightened in a disapproving frown. Jack was at a loss to understand why. Was that not her current arrangement with some other man who cared nothing for their little daughter? A man who might deem his mistress’s infant an annoying inconvenience?

  “No, Mr. Warwick.” Clarissa rose with the dignity of a duchess. “I am obliged to earn my living and I can only do that if I am free to encourage competition for my favors. If I live on your charity until our daughter is grown, who will want me then? I know your offer is kindly meant but I cannot accept it. I regret it was necessary to leave the child with you under such sudden and mysterious circumstances, but now it is within my power to take her back.”

  “Take her—?” Jack had leapt to his feet when Clarissa rose. Now his legs threatened to fail him again.

  How could he permit Sarah to leave this house, to slip out of his life? He could not. Indeed, he would do anything in his power to prevent it.

  “Please, you must not.” He reached for Clarissa’s tiny gloved hand. “When I spoke just now, you misunderstood. It was not a temporary arrangement I intended to offer, but a permanent one. The most permanent of all.”

  “Oh!” Clarissa started and blinked rapidly as if she could scarcely believe her ears. “Are you saying... are you proposing...?”

  Though his heart twisted cruelly in his chest at the thought of what it would mean for him and Annabelle, Jack knew he had no choice. For once he must do the honorable thing. No matter what it cost him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “MARRIAGE?” ANNABELLE REPEATED the word as if it belonged to some incomprehensible foreign language.

  Madame Reynard had departed a short while ago, leaving little Sarah behind. The baby was now sleeping, watched over by Polly. Annabelle had no idea where Gabriel and Rory had gone. She wished they had stayed to help her persuade their friend to reconsider his matrimonial plans.

  Annabelle wondered why the notion of Jack wedding Clarissa Reynard confounded her so. He had told her he intended to wed the mother of his child if she could be found. The two of them had argued over it. When it seemed unlikely they would locate Sarah’s mother he had been desperate enough to turn to her with an offer of marriage. Faced with her reluctance, he had sought to seduce her into accepting.

  He had almost succeeded.

  “You cannot still mean to pursue such a mad idea?” Annabelle tried to keep a pathetic note of pleading from her voice. “A future earl wed to a notorious courtesan—imagine the scandal it will make.”

  “What will a little more scandal matter to me?” Jack stood at the drawing room window staring out at Bruton Street, as he often seemed to do when they had a disagreement. “I have never had a sterling reputation I need to protect. When the baby appeared on my doorstep, most people must have suspected something like this, so it will hardly come as a surprise. At least Clarissa is free to wed me—not encumbered with a husband to make things difficult.”

  Why were they talking about such practical reasons for the marriage to proceed? A hollow sinking sensation gripped Annabelle. All that should matter was what had happened between her and Jack last night—at least the part before she’d recklessly confessed her true feelings.

  Before Annabelle could raise the subject, Jack continued, “Scandal and gossip always die down in the end. I doubt anyone mentions the baby on our doorstep these days. They are all too busy speculating about those murders in Vauxhall and the identity of the Mayfair Shadow. Besides, my situation is hardly without precedent. Charles Fox married Mrs. Armistead, who was far more notorious in her heyday than Clarissa Reynard will ever be. She had been the Prince Regent’s mistress at one time, not to mention a bevy of dukes, earls and nabobs. Once they wed it did not take long for the tattle to ease and Mrs. Fox to be accepted in Society. Theirs was the model of a happy marriage, from what I have heard.”

  The information stunned Annabelle. Britain’s beloved Foreign Secretary had died five years ago but his memory was still fiercely revered. No one had ever told her about his wife’s scandalous past. Then again, it was not the sort of subject respectable people discussed in the hearing of an innocent young woman.

  “He must have loved her a great deal.” Annabelle tried to keep her voice from breaking. “Do you love Madame Reynard that way?”

  “Of course not!” Jack snapped, though he still did not turn to look at her. “But I love our daughter and I will do whatever I must to remain in her life and secure her future. I know you care for Sarah too. Is that not what you want for her?”

  “I do,” Annabelle insisted, though the words ripped her heart with sharp claws. “I want Sarah to have a family and to be happy but...”

  Her voice trailed off, silenced by the great lump in her throat. S
he wanted that dear child to have a loving family but she also wanted to be part of that family. She did not want Jack to lose his daughter but neither could she bear to lose the child she had come to love so deeply. If only she had accepted his proposal when he’d first asked, rather than being held back by pride and fear of greater heartache!

  Jack turned to look at her, but she averted her eyes before they met his. “But what?”

  Annabelle clenched her hands so tightly her fingers cramped. “I do not want Sarah’s happiness to come at the cost of your misery. If she were old enough to understand I am certain she would agree.”

  “What makes you think I will be miserable with Clarissa?” Jack turned his attention back to the street. “She is entertaining company. She clearly dotes on our daughter. That is a stronger foundation upon which to build a solid marriage than many couples have.”

  “But is it strong enough?” Part of Annabelle despised her weakness in clinging to a man who clearly did not want her. Had she fooled herself into believing Jack’s thrilling seduction sprang from tender feelings toward her? In truth, he had only used his sensual skills to get what he wanted from her, the way courtesans like Clarissa Reynard did with their patrons. Perhaps Jack and Madame Reynard deserved one another after all!

  “Think of your parents,” she persisted in spite of her misgivings. “Did they begin their marriage with less than that or more?”

  “Leave my parents out of this!” Jack rapped his knuckles on the windowsill. “They have nothing to do with it.”

  “On the contrary.” Annabelle strode toward him, half against her will. “They have everything to do with it if their example is the reason you are afraid to love or be loved.”

  Before he could take any evasive action, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the thwarted fervor of many long years. Though her pride protested, reason argued that such bold, unexpected action might penetrate his defenses when words had failed. Besides, Jack no longer needed anything from her. If he responded to her kiss there could only be one reason and they would both know it.