“Too much blood,” she heard.
The clock was set to mark the beginning of their child’s life, but she’d been labouring so long; when would that life begin?
“More towels.”
Someone was crying? “Mama?”
“You have to help us, Faith.” Disjointed words came through a tunnel and echoed in her head. “Blood. Too much blood.”
The pain made Faith scream fit to reach the next county.
Then she was floating above herself in the bed.
Faith’s scream jolted Harris as he crossed the yard to the house. The babe was coming. Not for the first time, he cursed Vincent Devereux and pondered revenge.
The rider careening up the drive distracted him. He’d help the family by turning the visitor away.
As the lathered horse and its brawny rider neared, Faith screamed Justin’s name in a bone-chilling outcry.
The rider leapt from his horse and Harris’s heart leapt as the ghost of his master grabbed him by the shoulders. “My God, Man, what have I done?”
Harris swooned.
“No time for a man in his cups,” Justin said as he ran inside.
At the door to their room, he stopped. So much blood.
“Get out. We have enough problems here,” a matron said. Faith was white…as death, and darkness threatened him.
“Go, Justin,” Faith’s mother said in despair. “We haven’t time to worry about you too.” She touched his arm. “Please. Go.”
Justin threw off her hand. “Like hell I will.” Kneeling, he wiped the matted hair from Faith’s face and kissed her brow. “Faith, I’m here.” But she didn’t respond.
He watched horrified as her stomach mounded. Her scream, as if she was being torn asunder, tore him as well. “Oh, Faith.”
Justin didn’t know which was worse, her screams or her silence. “Sweetheart, can you hear me? I’m here.” He saw his terror mirrored in all eyes. “She can’t hear me. She doesn’t know I’m here.”
Someone touched his shoulder. “Tell her you’ll keep her from going over the cliff.”
“What?”
“She’s been screaming about falling off a cliff for hours.”
Oh God. Oh God. “I’ll save you, Faith, and I’ll hold you so tight you’ll be safe forever.”
“We’re going to lose her,” the midwife said.
“No!” Justin turned to his mother-in-law. “God won’t take her.” But they both knew he was fooling himself.
Unable to stop his tears, Justin kissed Faith’s bloodless lips. “I’m sorry. I’m…” He swallowed. “I’m getting tears all over you.” He caressed her cheek. “Don’t be mad, all right. It’s not like…” He sobbed. “Like ice or anything.”
With the next contraction, her scream was weaker.
Faith was going to die.
Justin shouted her name loud enough to make God hear. “Faith, I need you. I’m the one who’ll be falling off the edge if you don’t come back. I love you, Faith. I love you so damned much.”
“Justin?”
Had he conjured the thready whisper? “Faith?” Desperate, demented, he wanted to shake her to bring her back. “Faith,” he sobbed with a shuddering breath. “If you love me, you’d better not leave me. Cause I’d die without you. I would.” He wiped his eyes. “Beth and I need you so much.”
Faith opened her eyes, their emerald depths rife with agony. She tried to raise her hand, failed. “Love…you,” she whispered on a long slow breath, and closed her eyes.
In stark terror, Justin turned to Cecile, his mother-in-law.
She squeezed his shoulder, but her consolation was useless; ice infused him.
“She’s still with us,” Cecile whispered.
Justin’s heart began to beat again. “Thank God,” he whispered. “Thank God.” He raised her hand. “I’m here, Faith. I’ll always be here.” He kissed her palm.
She’d brought him back, and now he needed to do the same for her. “Come home to me, my love.”
When pain gripped her again, he leaned close to murmur intimate words, love words, private and sacred.
“She must hear you, Justin,” Cecile said. “She didn’t scream that time.”
But he feared it was because she no longer felt the pain. Still certain his touch, his voice, were the only ways to reach her, he coaxed her through the next pain. And the next.
Closer and closer, her contractions came. He stroked her cheek. “Would that your pain could be mine,” he whispered.
She opened weary eyes. “Enough…of your own.” She licked her lips. “Not so bad…now you’re here.”
With the words—her voice sweet as a hundred carollers—hope surged. He dipped his finger in water and wet her lips.
She kissed it and he was humbled. “Damn my hide, I should have stayed with you.”
She smiled. “Love you…too.”
Her labour took a turn. Quick. Intense. Justin declared his love for her over and over again, not caring any longer who heard.
The midwife whispered instructions. He relayed them, urging Faith on.
“Hurts.”
“I know, love. Not much longer now. Soon we’ll have a beautiful babe.” He looked at his mother-in-law beseeching her to affirm his words. Cecile nodded, and he was so bloody grateful, he had to take deep breaths to keep from blacking out.
“Tired,” Faith whispered.
“Remember the love we shared when we created this child?”
Her smile was weak, her nod weaker.
“Bring him home now, so we can love him together.”
Her eyes, focused now on him, held a spark of life that had been missing. “I knew you’d keep me from falling off the edge. You were the only one that could, you know.”
“I know now,” he said, her hand at his lips.
“Praise be,” Cecile whispered. “She’s back with us.”
Justin coaxed Faith through another half-hour of labour. “That’s my darling, my beautiful love. Give me a babe just like you, even if she’s troublesome as Lissa.”
Cecile chuckled. So, nearly, did Faith.
At dawn, nearly twenty-four hours after Faith’s labour began, their son was brought into the world, his lusty screams filling the household with joy.
“A boy, hale and hearty,” Cecile pronounced through her tears as she placed him in his mother’s arms.
Justin couldn’t speak, but let his tears mingle with Faith’s as he kissed her.
Cecile tried to send him from the room, but he refused to go. Together they bathed Faith then he carefully, gratefully, lifted her and sat holding her while Cecile changed the bed. With the last hours haunting him, he held her as if he’d never let her go.
Faith’s eyes closed as he smoothed the hair from her face and she sighed.
“You scared me witless,” he whispered.
“You can put Faith back on the bed now, Justin.”
With her eyes, Faith implored him not to let her go. “Go and rest, Mother. I’ll put her down soon.”
Cecile hesitated.
“Please Mama,” Faith begged.
Cecile sighed. “Plain speaking, then. Faith lost too much blood. She needs to lie down, so we can raise her legs, so that baby of yours will have a Mama to take care of him.”
That got his attention. When he rose, Faith whimpered, in protest or pain, and it pierced him. He placed her gently on the bed and knelt on the floor, his arms still around her. “I’d like to name our son Brian, for your grandfather,” Justin said. “If that’s all right with you?”
Faith nodded, and though her eyes were closed, she smiled.
Cecile smiled too. “My father would be pleased.” She picked up the baby and kissed him. “We’ll leave you two alone for now, but this little fellow will be hungry soon.”
As soon as the door closed, Justin lay beside her, still holding her.
She opened her eyes. “You told me you love me.”
“So I did. And with good reason. Because I do,
with every breath in me.”
“You never said it before.”
“I didn’t know what love was before.”
Justin had fallen asleep with Faith in his arms. Cecile stood by the bed holding their son. The mite sucked his fist with noisy fervour. Justin let go of Faith and rose, embarrassed to be caught sleeping with his wife.
Thinking nothing of it, Cecile handed him the blanketed being, and the little wrinkled face contorted comically before giving forth a piercing wail.
Justin grinned. “How can something so tiny make so much noise?”
Faith woke. “You look like that picture of you holding Beth.”
Cecile helped her with the new experience of feeding their son, and when Brian latched onto her nipple, she flinched.
“It won’t hurt after a couple of days,” Cecile said. “And it’s easier with each child.”
Justin paled. “Each child!”
“Don’t look at me as if I have two heads, Justin,” Cecile said. “It’s never as bad after the first. I had a hard time with Faith, just like today, and here I am the mother of eight.”
“I vow, Mama, it was harder on Justin than it was on me.”
Cecile howled. “Men like you to think that, but don’t you believe it.”
Dressed for the day, Justin kissed Faith. I’m going to speak to Harris,” he said. “He was damned fidgety when I saw him last.”
Faith could barely keep her eyes open. “He was like that when I saw him the other night, too. I swear he was as sad over your absence as I was. See if he’s all right.”
“I’ll not be long. Rest.”
Faith drifted back to sleep as he watched.
He found Harris mending a fence beside Jeremy.
“Congratulations, your grace, on the birth of your son,” Harris said. “Or should I say, for being alive.”
Justin glanced at Jeremy. “Walk with me,” he said, not leaving Harris any choice but to follow. “The boy doesn’t know our scheme. Only Faith’s parents and the vicar who married us know the truth. As far as anyone else is concerned, I’m Justin Reddington.
The whole county went to Justin Devereux’s funeral.
Harris told Justin about reading his death notice in the Gazette and of his shock at seeing him.
“I’m sorry, old friend, that Faith’s note didn’t reach you. I thought you were jug-bit when you swooned.”
Harris winced. “Had enough of that to last forever.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, what’s our next step in this grand scheme of cross-purposes and crooked answers?”
Justin grimaced. “To bring this deadly business to a close. When Faith is well, I’d like to return with you to London. It’s time to get Grant and Marcus to help smoke Vincent out, and maybe even Gabe, too, if your vicar and my friend’s up for it.”
As Justin walked Faith into the garden one beautiful late summer day, she realized that his fear of losing her must finally have begun to ebb after all these weeks.
“I’ll be back for you in an hour,” he said. “Don’t move from this spot.”
“We’ll be fine, won’t we, angel,” she asked their son.
After Justin left, Faith played with Brian until he fussed, then she put him to her breast. If not for Vincent, this time in their lives might be perfect. That he wanted Justin dead was more frightening than ever, because they were a family now.
Brian fussed as he nursed and Faith realized he must sense her anxiety. So she closed her eyes to concentrate on the beautiful day, the sun, the breeze, and her son’s tiny hand on her breast.
“Faith. Sweet Girl!”
The unfamiliar exclamation shattered Faith’s peace. “Mr. Hemsted!”
But he looked more stunned than she. “Miss Wickham. I had no idea…that is to say, you have a child. How can that be?” The foolish question echoed in the silence, and his face reddened.
Faith covered herself with Brian’s blanket. “Do sit, down.”
He took the bench opposite. “Max, please.” Despite his best efforts, his eyes kept straying toward Brian, suckling noisily. “Your child is young.”
“Seven weeks today.”
“You’re well?”
“Quite robust, actually. What brings you to Arundel?”
“You.” He coloured again. “I’ve been worried about you since you left Killashandra. Now I can see my alarm was not unfounded. I guess when you care for someone, your instincts sharpen.”
He cared for her? “Why do you feel your worry is justifiable?”
To Faith’s chagrin, he knelt on one knee before her and took her hand. “My dear, Faith.” He kissed her fingers. “You must be most unhappy.”
“Why must I?”
“Poor darling. I have respect for your stoicism in these circumstances, but fate has taken a hand, and I couldn’t be happier.” He looked at the cloudless sky, as if seeking wisdom, then he gazed adoringly at her. “What I wish to ask, I do not ask lightly, nor is it something that has just occurred to me. As I said, I have been thinking of you for months.”
When Faith tried to speak, he held up his hand. “Let me take care of you and your child. Marry me, dearest Faith, and make me the happiest of men.”
“Oh, but—”
“Please say yes. If not because you care for me, yet, then do it for your son. An illegitimate child is…I would call him mine. No one need know the circumstances of his birth.”
Faith touched his hand. “You do me great honour, but—”
“Your son needs a father. I would be good to you.” He lowered the blanket and gazed at Brian, touched his cheek. A tender gesture. “I’d be good to both of you.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to hurt him.
He stood to pace. “Did the swine who deserted you leave you in disgust of men? Tell me you were not…hurt,” he begged.
She stood and went to him. “My child was conceived in love, Max. We’ll be fine. Offer marriage to someone who can love you in return. It is my wish for you, my friend.”
“Friend is not the word I would choose.” He put his arm around her, Brian between them. “Let me give your child my name. Let me give his mother my love. You would come to love me, for I could show you such gentleness, bring you such pleasure.”
He made to kiss her, but she turned her head. “I cannot marry you, Max. I’m sorry. Please try to understand.”
“But your son is a bastard.”
“My son bears his father’s name, my husband’s name.”
“And that name is….”
“Devereux—”
“Vincent!”
“Reddington! Justin Reddington is my son’s father.”
Hemsted reacted strangely, as if taken by surprise. He shook his head. “Reddington, you say?”
“Yes. Seeing you made me think of Killashandra and my patient, Justin Devereux, and I misspoke. I met Justin Reddington there.”
Hemsted’s smile was enigmatic. “Indeed. And how did you manage to marry while at Killashandra?”
“Justin is…a Devereux cousin. From America. He came…to Killashandra when Vincent was in France and, and—”
“When did you marry?”
She should have let him think her child a bastard. She should not be trying to set his mind at rest. “What matters is that we are married, though the fact is not known to many.” She touched his arm. “I ask you to keep our secret, Max. Can you? For me?”
“I’d do anything for you, Faith.” He kissed her before she could react…and Justin entered the garden.
When he saw them, he stopped—walking and smiling.
Faith went to him and took his arm. “Justin this is Mr. Hemsted. He’s in the employ of Vincent Devereux, as was I.”
“As you still are,” Hemsted said, wary, guarded, a man of affairs once more. “You have his niece. Or do you wish me to take her with me now? You have your own child after all.”
“No!” Justin and Faith said in unison, with too much adamance, Faith was afraid.
“We love her like our own,” Justin said.
Captive Scoundrel Page 21