Once a Scoundrel

by Anna Harrington

  “And continue to believe that she’s my mistress,” he heaved out in a frustrated breath. “Worse, that I’m daring to flaunt her in my wife’s face by keeping her here. I would never expose you to that kind of hate-filled gossip.” He took her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. His eyes pinned hers. “And the rumors would only increase because we had to elope.”

  She blinked her tear-blurred eyes, not understanding. “Why would we elope?”

  “Because Strathmore will never give his blessing for you to marry me as long as she’s here.”

  He was right, and the brutality of that truth clawed at her. Papa would never consent to their marriage. But neither would they elope, because she could never defy her father to the point of marrying against his wishes. She would never pit the two men she loved most against each other like that. “Then what can we do?”

  He grimly shook his head. “I have to make certain Mary and Jeremy are cared for when they leave Elmhurst. There is no other answer.”

  She pressed herself closer, resting her cheek against his chest and attempting to take comfort in the beating of his heart. Strong. Steady. Pounding hard for her. She’d lain next to him last night in his arms, with her head resting on his chest just like this. The soft sound had brought her such comfort, but now, knowing how much could be lost if fate worked against them, each heartbeat only increased her worry.

  She whispered, “I want to help you. We’ll find a way out of this.” She slipped her hands down his arms to entwine her fingers in his, their hands tightly clasped. “Together.”

  But his words took her breath away. “Not in this, Faith. I won’t ask that of you.”

  A terrible fear struck her that she was losing him, even now when she stood in his arms. Her anguish was so barely contained that she trembled when he lifted her hand to caress his cheek. “You told Mary that the woman you wed would be strong. So let me be strong for you.”

  He shook his head. “This is my responsibility. I won’t lay this on your shoulders.”

  The irony squeezed around her heart. How many times since he’d returned had she’d prayed for proof that Stephen had changed, that he was no longer the scapegrace he’d been? That he could be a man whom she could love with every ounce of her soul and heart? Now she had it, irrefutable evidence that he’d become a kind and responsible man—one who would never abandon Mary and her son when they needed him. One who respected her wishes to do the right thing by them, even at the cost of his own happiness. And she refused to let him make that sacrifice.

  “I want to help you,” she said gently but with a persistence that came from deep in her soul. He was hers now, and she refused to give him up, especially after last night. Especially now that she knew how much he loved her. “So tell me what we can do...How do we fix this?”

  He hesitated. Then, drawing in a deep breath, he murmured, “I have an idea, but it’s a long shot.”

  Wanting to reassure him, she rose up on tip-toes to kiss him. Only a fleeting touch of their lips, but Faith tasted a world of hope in that kiss. She cupped his face in his hands. “Tell me.”

  Even as he shared his plans, she wasn’t at all certain that it would work. But it had to. Because her future with Stephen hung in the balance.

  Chapter Eleven

  Oldham Village, Lancashire

  One Month Later

  Stephen knocked on the front door of the Llewellyn family home.

  Beside him, Mary clutched Jeremy tightly in the chilly fall air and said nothing in her nervousness. Just as she’d said nothing of worth to him during the five-day ride from Elmhurst Park.

  During the past month, he’d sent several letters to the Llewellyns, explaining about Mary and Daniel...and Jeremy. That the boy needed his grandparents. That Mary needed them to help her with him, however they were willing to do. That they owed it to Daniel’s memory—and to themselves—to let the child into their lives.

  Each of the letters went unanswered.

  But he refused to stop trying to persuade them, couldn’t stop since his future with Faith hung in the balance. So he’d had Mary write several letters herself, including lengthy descriptions of Jeremy and his favorite toys, how he was just starting to walk and babble baby words, how he liked to be sung to sleep at night and carried through the fields to see the animals. She’d even included a lock of his hair and a print of his hand.

  A sennight ago came their reply. To leave them alone and let their son’s ghost rest in peace.

  So Stephen did the only thing he could. He put Mary and Jeremy into a carriage and brought them across England to the Llewellyns’ doorstep. If they were going to refuse to claim their grandson, then damnation, they were going to do it to their faces.

  He pounded his fist against the door.

  “Stephen,” Mary said softly, the first words she’d spoken directly to him since the carriage rolled away from the inn that morning, when she’d called him mad and said that his scheme would come to nothing but sorrow. “We shouldn’t do this, not like this. Let’s return to the inn and—”

  “No.” A frontal attack on the enemy worked best with the element of surprise. And he sure as hell couldn’t think of a bigger surprise than having their illegitimate grandson arrive unannounced. “We’re doing this. If they’re going to keep refusing to acknowledge him, then we’re going to make them look you in the eyes with their grandson in your arms when they do it.”

  She bit her bottom lip in a fit of dread, which he ignored. Because of Faith.

  In the month since he’d last seen her, the hollowness inside his chest had grown unbearable. He hadn’t been sleeping well, had no appetite, couldn’t concentrate on running the marquessate...couldn’t ride his horse out on the estate for fear he’d turn the animal toward Hartsfield Park. And for all the letters he’d posted to the Llewellyns, he couldn’t send a single one to Faith. Her parents wouldn’t have allowed it after the way he’d last left Hartsfield.

  The only solace he’d found was in the relentless pursuit to help Mary and Jeremy. Which was why they were here. He was tired of waiting. The time had come to force a resolution.

  The Llewellyns weren’t bad people. Stephen had known them well from his friendship with Daniel, first at Harrow and then at university, and he’d once even spent a short holiday here. He remembered them as loving and friendly, dedicated to hard work and to each other...But he had no idea what the past two years spent mourning their only son had done to them. He hoped their grief hadn’t hardened their hearts completely.

  The door opened, and the man who served as both butler and footman to the small household nodded politely. “Yes?”

  “Stephen Crenshaw, Marquess of Dunwich, to see Sir Geoffrey and Lady Llewellyn.”

  The man stiffened as he recognized his name. “Yes, your lordship.” His gaze darted to Mary. “And you, ma’am?”

  “My companion,” he answered brusquely, offering nothing more. He knew without having to look that Mary most likely rolled her eyes in exasperation, thinking him on a fool’s errand. “We’ll wait to see them.”

  “Yes, sir.” The man looked flustered at the quiet order as he stepped back to let them pass into the house. “Right this way.”

  “You are shameful,” Mary scolded in a low voice after the servant led them to the parlor, then took their coats and hats. “Using your title to barge in like that.”

  “It might as well be useful for something,” he grumbled.

  Ignoring his sarcasm, she set Jeremy down on the settee and began to remove his little coat and hat. After four days in the confines of the carriage and small inn rooms at night, the boy fussed restlessly to be put down to explore the large parlor on teetering legs. “I feel like we’re ambushing them. And showing up like this without invitation or announcement, when they’ve already told us to leave them be...You’re going to get us tossed out on our ears.”

  “Whatever it takes, Mary,” he muttered and meant it. Feeling just as restless as the boy, he began to pace.<
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  She withdrew a stuffed toy lamb from the pocket of her pelisse and wiggled it in front of Jeremy. “And when this doesn’t work, when they refuse us to our faces?” She placed the lamb in the toddler’s outstretched hands. “What then?”

  “I don’t know.” But he knew for certain that he wouldn’t give up, because the alternative...Well, there was no alternative.

  Mary sat next to Jeremy, and the boy crawled into her arms, then turned to sit in her lap, the little wool-covered toy still firmly in his hands. He lifted it to his mouth and began to chew on its leather ear. When she looked down at her son, love lit her face.

  As he watched them, a longing pierced Stephen so fiercely that he caught his breath. He wanted that same closeness with a family of his own. With Faith. But he wouldn’t have any of it unless he convinced the Llewellyns to accept Mary and Jeremy into their lives. Everything depended upon this meeting.

  “I suppose we could hold out hope about my parents.” She took the lamb from Jeremy and rubbed it against his belly until he laughed. “Of course, it’s too soon to hear back from India.”

  That caught his attention. Stephen wheeled to face her. “You wrote to your parents?”

  The smile on her face faded, and she placed the lamb in Jeremy’s lap. “So much time has passed, so much has happened...I decided that the moment was right to try to make amends.”

  His chest tightened with sympathy for her. The estranged relationship with her parents over Daniel and Jeremy had devastated her, and because she’d been forced to leave India before she was showing with child, she hadn’t been able to heal the breech between them. He was glad that she had reached a point where she felt secure enough to contact them, but he prayed her hopefulness wouldn’t be dashed.

  “Then I hope you hear from them soon,” he told her quietly.

  “No matter if I don’t, because I’ve decided that I’m going to keep writing to them regardless of what reply I receive. Or don’t.” She smiled up at him. “Siege warfare.”

  He quirked a brow. “Oh?”

  “I’m going to wear them down until they accept me again, flaws and all.” She placed a kiss on the top of Jeremy’s head. “Child and all.”

  Her plotting earned a grudging admiration from him and a smile. The army was looking in the wrong place for strategy experts. They should have been prowling for recruits over tea services in dressmakers’ shops.

  “Which, I suppose, is the exact same thing you’ve planned for the Llewellyns, to wear them down until they give in.” She cast him a dubious glance. “If they refuse us today, are we encamping in their rose garden?”

  His lips pressed together tightly. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

  “I don’t,” she answered quietly. “Not at all.”

  “Everything will work out,” he assured her. If he said it often enough, perhaps he would believe it.

  “And you?” she asked softly, a touch of concern in her voice. “Will everything be all right with you?”

  “Of course it will.” It had to. Because living without Faith...impossible. “I’m fine.”

  With a soft sigh, she shook her head. “I know you, Stephen, and you are the furthest thing from fine. You haven’t been yourself since Lady Faith departed Elmhurst Park.”

  His heart jumped into his throat at her mention of Faith. “It’s nothing for you to be concerned with,” he answered and turned away to pace again, hoping she would let the subject drop. The last person he wanted to discuss right then was Faith. Not when his future with her depended upon how the next few minutes went with the Llewellyns.

  “It concerns you, so of course it concerns me because I care about you,” she returned. “She means a great deal to you, I can see it.”

  “Of course she does. As does all her family,” he prevaricated. “We’re friends.”

  “Oh, you’re so much more than that,” she lowered her voice knowingly although no one could have overheard them.

  His gut clenched at the reminder of spending the night in Faith’s arms. Which was the very last thing he wanted to think about today. “I don’t know what—”

  “You love her.” She smiled gently as she proved her point by commenting, “Only a man in love would be in such distress.”

  “I’m not in distress,” he dissembled, running a frustrated hand through his hair. What he felt was a great deal worse.

  Clearly, she didn’t believe him, based on her frowning look of disapproval. The same one she gave Polly whenever the young maid tried to sneak into the village to visit the blacksmith’s son. “I saw how you two looked at each other.”

  “You were delusional with fever.”

  His attempt at teasing only deepened her frown. “You mustn’t waste your chance to be with her because of Jeremy and me. Because you feel guilty about Daniel’s death.”

  Halting in his steps, he turned to keep his back toward her so she couldn’t see his face. They’d never had this conversation before, about the reasons why he’d pledged his help to her nearly two years ago. They both knew, but neither had voiced it openly. Until now. Fresh guilt and grief clawed at his gut.

  Her gaze softened. “You were so very kind to help us when you didn’t have to—”

  “I did,” he ground out, resting a hand on the fireplace mantel.

  “No. Daniel’s death was not your fault.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Faith had said the same. He would always grieve for Daniel, but now in his heart, he knew he’d made the right decision in ordering his men to charge. He’d come to accept that, thanks to Faith’s forgiveness and love. The crushing burden he’d carried since Daniel’s death had eased from his conscience, and he could once again look upon his army service with pride, could move forward into the future rather than constantly fight the ghosts of the past. But could anything erase the guilt he felt about Mary and Jeremy?

  “You must promise me that no matter what happens today that you will marry her, Stephen. I couldn’t bear it if I knew that we were the reason you let her go, that you were unhappy because of us.”

  He couldn’t make that promise. The man he’d been before he left England would have eagerly jumped at the chance to be rid of responsibility and to selfishly have what he wanted, to hell with anyone else. But that man was gone. He knew now the price that hubris exacted, and he was willing to pay it.

  He just hadn’t expected it to cost him Faith.

  “Daniel was the love of my life,” she admitted softly as she carried Jeremy across the room to him. “I mourn every day not just for the loss of him but also the loss of the life we would have had together, all the other children we would have had, the home we would have built.”

  He turned toward her, and the raw pain on her face stole his breath away.

  “So many things that other couples take for granted...All those morning walks in the garden that we’ll never take, all the quiet evenings sitting by the fireside that we’ll never share.” A sad smile tugged at her lips. “I would give everything I possess for just one more afternoon spent arguing with Daniel.” She swallowed hard, blinking back the tears. “I’ll never have that second chance with him. But you, Stephen, you have your second chance, and you must not waste it. So have the happy life together that you both deserve. Please.”

  He wanted to do exactly that. He wanted to devote the rest of his life to making Faith happy, to laughing with her and making her smile. She deserved a loving home and a family, autumn walks down lanes and midnight picnics, and all the stray animals her heart could love. But he couldn’t do it as long as he was responsible for Mary and Jeremy.

  He shook his head. “And if the Llewellyns refuse to recognize Jeremy as their grandson, if they refuse to help you?”

  “Then you marry her anyway, eloping if you have to,” she pressed in a whisper. “Lady Faith is so much stronger than you realize. After all—” She smiled as she tenderly kissed Jeremy’s cheek. “—when we’re with the people we love, together we can face anything.” />
  “Yes,” he rasped out, placing his hand on Jeremy’s head and a kiss to her cheek. “You’ve certainly proved that.”

  The door opened, and Stephen’s heart leapt into his throat. As he drew a deep breath, he turned to face Daniel’s parents.

  “Dunwich!” Sir Geoffrey stormed angrily into the room, his hands drawn into fists at his side. Behind him, his wife came slowly. Her drawn face paled as her eyes went immediately to Jeremy and locked on the boy.

  “Sir,” Stephen nodded deferentially to the man although he far outranked him. “I apologize for arriving without notice—”

  “You have no right to be here, no right to come into my home like this—” He angrily choked off his words as he jabbed his finger at Mary as she clutched Jeremy to her. “With them.”

  Oblivious to her husband’s distress, Lady Llewellyn stepped slowly toward Mary, her attention rapt on the boy.

  “You refused to answer my letters and declined an invitation to Elmhurst Park,” Stephen reminded him. “You left me with no choice.”

  “My son is dead because of you!” he cried.

  The words pierced him like a knife straight into the heart. He accepted the man’s anger without reacting, holding his face inscrutable despite the pain. He’d lived with the overwhelming grief of his best friend’s death for the past two years, and he understood the gaping hole that Daniel’s absence tore into all their lives. But he hadn’t been prepared for the full force of the blame Daniel’s parents placed squarely on his shoulders.

  Yet he knew the anger only came because they were in pain and needed someone to blame, and he would gladly accept that burden, if it made dealing with his son’s death easier. If it made them willing to accept Mary and Jeremy.