by Jane Lark
Something broke inside him, something hard, dark and cold and it became warm and light as he leant his cheek against her hair. It smelt beautiful. Roses. Love played about in his heart, and his soul, dancing.
He wiped his cheeks, devil take it he would not have any one see him being so unmanly. Lord his friends would laugh themselves stupid if they could see him now.
When she lifted her head, there were tear stains on her cheeks too. He wiped them away with his thumbs, and then his palms pressing against her cheeks, he kissed her fiercely.
A gong rang out announcing dinner.
She pulled away. “Oh goodness, do you think they have been waiting for us.” She stood. “Do I look a state? Have I grass in my hair?”
“You look beautiful.” She looked flushed, happy and bright eyed.
He stood and offered her his hand.
She took it and rose. “You cannot wear your coat…” She turned and bent to pick it up. “It is too creased. You will have to give it to John’s valet to see if he can repair it.”
“I’ll live without it.” He took it from her hand.
“It is only John and Kate who know I am with child. Neither my father nor my mother and nor anyone else within my family know…”
He smiled and hugged her hard. Then when he released her, captured her hand and wove his fingers through hers. They walked back up to the house thus.
Chapter 36
Drew walked down to the breakfast room, feeling like a different man to the hollow one who had stayed at Brooke’s the day before.
That other man was a stranger.
Drew had gone for a walk and a smoke before breakfast, leaving Mary in bed. He’d wandered down to the lake. It was so ridiculously quiet here. Calm. Peaceful.
When he’d returned, Mary had risen, and already gone down to break her fast. He was on his way to join her, but not looking forward to another meal with Pembroke.
Dinner last night had been strained. They had made polite conversation to avoid uncomfortable silence and the Duchess had worked hard to draw him into it, but he had not really known what to say.
As soon as the meal was over he’d grasped the opportunity to escape with Mary.
They had retired to her rooms, which were as large as he’d guessed, and then they’d held one another, and talked again. There had been no lust then.
But he’d woken in the night, at her urging, as she’d kissed his lips. He’d kissed her back, thoroughly, with an urgent desire to be inside her.
They’d made love in utter darkness, the call of night owls reaching them through an open window, the warm breeze brushing across his skin and the smell of clean, fresh grass and clover scented air flooding the room. He had made love to her slowly, adoring every inch of her body, and afterwards he’d tucked her beneath his arm and slept, knowing to the very depths of his marrow she was entirely his, and always would be.
He had not dared to think of the child.
“Framlington? Are you sure, Mary?”
Drew stopped as his foot left the staircase, and Pembroke’s voice echoed about the hall.
People who overheard conversations about themselves never heard anything good. And yet… he could not help it, he wanted to know what she said behind his back. Drew crossed the hall as quietly as he could.
“He does love me, John.” The doors of the breakfast room were a little ajar, Drew could see the Duchess was not there, and nor were there any footmen, even in the hall. So the conversation had grown private.
Her brother looked at her, his gaze assessing.
All Drew could see of Mary was her back.
“We watched you yesterday for a while, Katherine and I, as you lay in the meadow, talking; his behaviour certainly suggested he has feelings for you.”
“If you knew him –”
“He is not a man to be easily known.”
“Only because he closes himself off. It does not make him bad, it just means he is wary, because he is vulnerable, as I said.”
Her brother’s gaze showed something Drew would have not even recognised two months ago – care. He cared immensely for his sister. “You were vulnerable too…”
“That is different, and not why I fell in love with him.”
She was vulnerable?
“You wished to be special to someone. No doubt he made you feel it. It is not always easy growing up in a large family is it? Even if that family is full of love, one becomes another member of a crowd, and loses any individuality.” Pembroke smiled in a way Drew would not have thought him capable. Pembroke was different at home.
“No,” she admitted. “I have longed for a few years to have someone to love and love me in return with their whole heart and not just a piece of it.”
Her brother drank the last of his coffee and rose then walked about the table to rest a hand on her shoulder. “I felt the same. I shut you all out rather than admit the truth. Katherine was my answer. I think perhaps you have found yours too. I did wonder when he turned up at that musical evening and came that afternoon. But he is good at masquerading. He makes it appear he has no interest at all.”
She looked up at her brother. “He will be different now. He’s promised to be different.”
“I hope he is for your sake, but I do believe that he has feelings for you. I hope he loves you. I wish you happy, as does Katherine.”
Pembroke leant and kissed Mary’s cheek.
Drew took a breath and walked into the room. Now was his moment to prove Mary’s words true. “As do I.”
Pembroke straightened, suspicion in his eyes, obviously wondering how much Drew had heard.
Enough.
Mary stood.
Drew walked to her side, and settled his arm about her shoulders. “I love your sister, Pembroke, she will be happy, there is no if.”
Mary turned and embraced his midriff, pressing her cheek to his shoulder, as though they’d been separated for days, not less than an hour.
He kissed the crown of her head, love tugging inside him, and looked at Pembroke, expecting outrage over their show of affection.
Pembroke smiled, with the mellow look Drew had only just discovered Pembroke possessed.
“I shall leave you to your breakfast.” He nodded at Drew, then walked out.
When Pembroke was gone, Mary slipped free, smiling. “He approves. I told you, all they wish for is my happiness. If you make me happy. Papa will approve too.”
Drew’s hand gripped her nape and pulled her back, then he kissed her, hard.
* * *
Mary chose to rest in the afternoon and Drew was at a loose end. He’d explored the grounds with her on horseback before luncheon, but after they’d eaten, she claimed her condition made her tired.
Drew also thought it might be because she’d not been eating enough. He’d sat beside her at luncheon to ensure that changed, and filled her plate, ignoring any complaint.
Not wanting to disturb her sleep, he’d left her alone, avoiding temptation.
He walked along the upper hall to go back outdoors for a smoke.
“Steady now, a step at a time…” Pembroke’s deep tone had a low sing-song pitch. A gurgling, gleeful sound followed. Pembroke walked forward from the other direction, doubled over, his forefingers gripped by an infant’s chubby little hands. The child toddled before Pembroke on unsteady feet, rocking and swaying, but grinning and laughing.
A sharp lancing pain struck Drew’s chest.
He had eavesdropped this morning, but now he felt as if he looked in through a window and had seen something personal – and precious.
Pembroke looked up, and smiled. “You have not yet met my son have you?”
Pembroke gripped the child’s waist, and picked the boy up, tossed him in the air and caught him. The child squealed with excitement.
Then Pembroke balanced the boy on one arm while the other protected him from toppling.
Drew took two more steps towards them, feeling as he had done in Pembroke’s drawin
g room that day – out of place – bemused.
“Katherine is lying down too, she is also expecting. I thought I would give Paul some air. He likes crawling on the grass, or rather he likes the endless space where there is nothing to make me say, no. Are you going outside?”
“Yes.”
“Then we may keep each other company, if you wish?”
Drew nodded, then followed Pembroke as he turned to the stairs.
Pembroke crooned at the boy, while Drew fought to imagine himself with a child. He could not.
When they reached the downstairs hall Pembroke ordered lemonade and cake to be served in the garden. They did not go out the front, but to the back, to the terrace, where the sprawling building gave some shade from the sun’s rays.
Pembroke descended the flight of steps on to the cut grass and set the chid down. The boy instantly sped off on hands and knees.
Pembroke rose up and set his hands on his hips, watching. “It takes some time adjusting to it, yet fatherhood is a wonderful thing. I shall never cease to wonder at the miracle of it. But you will know it for yourself soon enough.” Pembroke glanced back at Drew.
He understood. He knew Drew was out of his depth and treading water hard not to suddenly sink.
“You may practice on my son, if you wish, or you may just wish to dive in to the deep when your own arrives.” Pembroke was laughing at him, without actually laughing, but there was humour in his eyes. “I was like you once, Framlington. I assure you, the instinct to love will fill you, in droves.”
Easy for a man to say when he had been loved and not hated by his mother and abandoned by his father. The instinct to love had not come to Drew’s parents.
“If what you said, and what Mary has said, is true, and you love each other, you will love the child.”
Damn it, was Pembroke reading his mind?
“I doubted my own capability. Edward, Lord Marlow, was a father to me from the age of ten, before that my uncles and grandfather had been it to me in various ways, my childhood had distorted my view of love. When you knew me in Paris I was as self-destructive as you. I sentenced myself to exile for a while until my grandfather died and then I came home. Katherine was my saving grace. My son is our completion.”
Drew’s hand lifted to comb through his hair. His hand shook.
The servants delivered the lemonade and Pembroke ran to fetch his crawling, wayward child.
Pembroke picked up the boy and returned to the terrace, then sat and fed the child small pieces of cake and sips of lemonade.
Drew watched mesmerized. Nothing in his life would have let him imagine this…
Yet he wanted to learn to do the same, he would not treat his child as he had been treated as a boy. He would love – no, more than that – he would cherish his child as Pembroke did his son.
When the lad was crawling across the grass again, Pembroke sat on the steps to watch.
Further along the terrace Drew leaned on the balustrade, watching them both and lit a cigar.
“I have a property you may be interested in.” Pembroke said in the direction of his son.
“A property?” Drew straightened and moved closer.
Pembroke looked at him, “It’s some miles away, so you would not literally be on my doorstep, but it is a small manor that adjoins my lands, I bought it recently when it was for sale because it did so. There are rents from two farms which belong to it and a home farm.” Pembroke stood up.
“Of course I shall give you Mary’s dowry back and I would be prepared to sell that property to you at a fair rate. Or if you preferred I would lease it to you and you could manage it, have the rents, but in that case you would not have the chance to pass it on to your son, and his son in future years.”
“And you want us close, so you may keep an eye on Mary, because you do not trust me…”
Pembroke held Drew’s gaze, but there was no fierceness or challenge in Pembroke’s eyes.
“I do not wish you close, but I wish Mary happy and settled. The property is ideal. You and I were acquaintances once, perhaps if you let down your guard, we could be friends. Certainly Mary would like to have Kate and I near.”
And Mary was the most important thing to them all.
“You may show me it, and I will consider it”
“Then we’ll ride over there tomorrow.”
Chapter 37
Andrew had been solicitous for days. He’d barely left her side, and they’d talked and walked.
In the morning they always rode out together, about John’s estate, and in the evening they spent time with Kate and John playing cards. Andrew had even sat beside her as she’d played the pianoforte and sung, turning the music for her, and he’d read to her several times in the afternoon.
He was purchasing a property nearby. He’d taken her to see it the day after he’d been there with John. It was halfway down a hill which dropped into the river valley. It was a Tudor manor. Its wooden beams formed a skeleton, running through red bricks.
When they’d ridden down there the front of the house had caught the morning sun, as if it cast a blessing on their chosen home.
It was not overly large, but it was charming, nestling in woodland which surrounded it at either side.
Andrew was pleased with the prospect of building a home for them. It had become his favourite topic, and he’d begun learning estate management from John.
One afternoon, while she’d rested, he’d even ridden out with John, and John’s steward, to the farms that would be Drew’s, to meet the tenants and labourers and look over the fields and herds.
He and John seemed on good terms, and although Andrew claimed that living close to Kate and John would benefit her and that was why he’d agreed to John’s proposal, she knew he would benefit from John’s presence too. This was all new to Andrew, and John would be there to ask questions of, and provide assurance.
They had been together here for six days, and already so much had changed. Mary truly believed things would be good. They could become a true family and be happy.
“A carriage is approaching, Your Grace.”
John had Paul on his knee. He looked at the footman. “Is there a coat of arms?”
“There is, Your Grace.”
John stood. “Well it appears we have a guest. Would you prepare the kitchen…”
Andrew stood too. They were all still wary of Lord Kilbride’s threats.
“I had better go down.” John passed Paul to Kate.
“I shall join you.” Drew rose.
Mary stood. “Then I shall come also.”
Kate rose too as they left the room.
The carriage was pulled by four glossy blacks, and as it pulled up before the portico, they all descended the stairs. Mary recognised the insignia. Her uncle Richard’s.
Mary moved forward with John, leaving Andrew behind. John’s footman put down the step and the door opened.
“John.” Richard’s voice rang deep with formality. He looked back at Andrew.
Mary turned back and gripped Andrew’s hand, as Richard looked at John.
“How fair you?”
“Well.” John answered.
“And how are things?”
“Things are fine, Your Grace.” Andrew answered, as though he knew the question was code for, and how do you find Framlington…“Have you come all this way to ask that?”
John glanced back across his shoulder, clearly asking Andrew for restraint, then he faced Richard again. “Things are fine, if a certain person knew when to restrain his bravado. What has brought you here?”
“Lord Framlington.” Richard stepped forward. “May I speak with you? May we go inside?”
Mary knew that John had written to Richard and told him Andrew was here and that they believed him innocent, but Richard had not replied, and his eyes said he did not trust that judgement.
Andrew’s fingers gripped hers harder. Mary gripped his arm with her other hand. She would willingly protect him.
; “Go up to the family drawing room,” Kate said, from behind them. “Finch will send up a tea tray.” The butler beside her bowed, acknowledging the request.
Richard lifted a hand, “There is no need for refreshment on my account.” Finch bowed again, and Richard’s hand encouraged Andrew to lead.
Mary’s heart pounded.
What was this?
What new disaster?
She took a seat in the drawing, her legs suddenly wobbly. Andrew stood beside the chair, his fingers on her shoulder.
Richard did not sit, neither did John, and Kate hovered at John’s side, her fingers laced through his. She must have passed Paul to one of the servant’s to take up to the nursery.
“What is it?” Andrew asked, his voice an ominous deep pitch. “What charge have you against me now?”
“This is not my charge. It is a formal charge against you – of incest. I have come to take you back to London. If the story you’ve told Mary and John is true, then you must tell it to a magistrate. Your only other option is to flee the country, and I will not have that for Mary’s sake. You should ask your sister to speak for you too.”
“I’ll not give Kilbride a chance to find Caro, but I will come with you and state my case.”
“You would face one man’s word against another, then, Framlington. When all evidence points to one conclusion. You will risk hanging, if your sister will not speak for you.”
Andrew sighed. “I will risk hanging anyway; her word may count for nothing as I am sure you know, and I will not risk her.”
Mary stood and faced him. “Andrew.” Her voice begged as his gaze met hers.
He looked past her to Richard. “No, I cannot do it. I’m all she has. If they do not believe either of us Kilbride will have her back and he will kill her. I cannot risk her safety. I have hidden her alone, she has no one to protect her. No. I’ll go, but I will not betray Caro. She is safe only as long as no one knows where she is.”
“Lady Kilbride may come here,” John spoke. “If you go to London, I shall fetch her. She may live here for as long as she wishes so you know she is safe. You have seen how many servants I have, no one can reach her here without me knowing.”