Once a Scoundrel

by Anna Harrington

  Geoffrey’s face twisted with grief. “And now you bring that woman into my home, with her lies and schemes to swindle us out of money and ruin Daniel’s reputation.”

  “So you can meet her,” Stephen corrected gently, “and meet your grandson.”

  “That boy is not Daniel’s!”

  At his shout, Jeremy let out a loud wail and began to cry. Mary rocked him in her arms, cooing to him softly, but the boy felt the palpable tension in the room and refused to be calmed.

  Lady Llewellyn’s face melted with into a heartrending expression of grief and love as she stopped in front of Mary. She whispered, “My God...he looks exactly like Daniel when he was a baby.”

  She held out her trembling arms in a silent plea.

  Mary hesitated a moment, her gaze flicking uncertainly to Stephen. When he nodded reassuringly, she placed Jeremy into the woman’s arms. As Lady Llewellyn pressed the boy tightly against her bosom, her own tears began to fall.

  “Elizabeth, hand that boy back,” Sir Geoffrey ordered, but his voice wavered, and for the first time, Stephen heard the grief underlying the man’s anger.

  “He’s Daniel’s son,” she whispered, nuzzling her face against the boy’s blond hair.

  “He’s an illegitimate bastard,” his father protested., pain lacing his voice. “There’s no proof...no proof at all that Daniel and she...that he’s...”

  “He’s Daniel’s son,” she repeated, turning to meet her husband’s gaze over the boy’s head. “Look at him! Do you think I wouldn’t recognize my own babe in him, the son I nursed at my breast and sang to sleep in his cradle? The son I watched grow into a man?” Her voice choked with a sob. “The same son I sent off to India?”

  His shoulders sagged, his eyes glistening, as he pleaded, “Elizabeth...”

  “Enough...enough grief, enough loss...I want it to end now.” She pressed Jeremy tightly against her with one arm, while her other reached for Mary. “I lost my son. I will not lose my grandson as well.”

  They stared silently at each other in a shared communication that only decades of a loving marriage could create. In that moment, his heart pounding wildly and his chest aching for all of them, Stephen knew that everything was going to be all right.

  “Geoffrey,” Lady Llewellyn whispered, the grief on her face replaced by a look of love and acceptance, “come meet your grandson.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Hartsfield Park

  One Week Later

  Stephen dismounted from his horse and tossed the reins to the groom who came trotting up through the cold fall drizzle to meet him. A roll of thunder grumbled overhead, and he cocked a defiant eye toward the gray sky. Bring your worst. Because nothing short of a storm born of hell itself could stop him now.

  With a steely determination that had kept him going nearly nonstop since he left Mary and Jeremy with the Llewellyns, and the last two days through cold rains and mud, he charged up the front steps and past the flustered butler as he stormed into the house without invitation or announcement.

  “Your lordship!” The butler scurried after him, completely out of sorts that he would so rudely enter. Worse, that he would bypass waiting in the drawing room or front hall to be announced and instead charged on through the heart of the house.

  But Stephen had no patience for niceties today.

  “Strathmore!” he shouted, letting that be enough of an announcement of his arrival.

  The butler turned white. “Sir, I must insist—”

  “So must I, Gibbs,” he interrupted but didn’t slow in his stride as he stuck his head inside the passing rooms, to search each one before moving on. If he had his way, the butler, the rest of the staff—for that matter, the entire Westover household and family—had better get used to having him prowling their halls. Because he planned on doing just that, for a very long time to come.

  Only when he reached the study did he falter, his heart leaping into his throat at finding Strathmore sitting there behind his massive desk. He ignored the rush of blood through his ears, just as he ignored the butler’s frantic attempts to make him stop, and took a deep breath to fix his courage.

  “Strathmore,” he commented as he strode up to the duke with the confidence of a man who knew his destiny and wasn’t afraid to seize it...or with the grim resolve of a man marching to his own execution. Based on the icy reception that the duke gave him, he wasn’t certain which.

  Refusing to stand to greet him, Edward Westover narrowed his eyes on him. “Dunwich.”

  Stephen removed the small, closed basket he’d worn on a strap around his shoulder all the way from Elmhurst Park and set it on the corner of the desk. Strathmore said nothing, but his eyes darted suspiciously to the basket when it moved.

  Stephen tossed his wet hat to the butler, whose mouth fell open at his audacity. “Sir!”

  Waving Gibbs out of the room before the man could have a fit of apoplexy right there on the Turkish rug, Strathmore clenched his jaw as he leaned back in his chair and pinned his hard gaze on Stephen. “Is there a reason you’ve invaded my home?”

  “I want to talk to you, sir.” He withdrew a bottle of cognac from beneath his caped riding coat and set it in the middle of the desk. “Man to man.”

  *****

  “Poor little thing,” Faith whispered.

  She reached a trembling hand over the stall door toward the foal. But it was too upset to let her comfort it and continued to pace anxiously around the stall, calling out in distressed bleats for the dam from which it was being weaned.

  Tears welled in her eyes and turned the foal into a black blur. She feared for a moment that she might start crying again.

  Again? She nearly laughed. When had she stopped?

  She pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders against the dreary day and the drip of drizzling rain across the roof. Soon, she would have to return to the house and dress for dinner, plaster a smile on her face for her family, and somehow pretend that her heart wasn’t breaking. Her family had all been very kind to her; even her sisters had been surprisingly supportive. Yet each time she had to face them, each time she had to pretend that she was feeling fine when she was nothing but a bundle of raw nerves, with each passing day more certain than ever that she’d made a mistake in agreeing to let Stephen wage an assault on Mary’s behalf...Oh heavens, how could she continue to bear it?

  A tear slipped down her cheek. She couldn’t find the strength to wipe it away.

  For the past month, since the moment the carriage rolled away from Elmhurst Park and she’d left Stephen behind, she’d been in near-constant sobs. Not sleeping, not eating, going through the days in an anguished fog...Only caring for the animals gave her any comfort, but even that wasn’t enough to make her forget the joy she’d found in Stephen’s arms that night and the utter wretchedness that consumed her the next morning. The old pain of losing him consumed her, the same anguish and grief that had nearly destroyed her four years ago.

  But this time—oh this time it was so much worse! Because she’d tasted love and knew for certain exactly what she was being denied.

  His silence was maddening, his absence in her life unbearable. He’d told her that they would only be apart for a few weeks, but a month had passed without any contact from him. After the incident in the stable, Papa had forbidden him to visit Hartsfield or to write to her. Two days ago, unable to bear it any longer, she’d secretly sent a messenger to Elmhurst Park, only to discover from Mrs. Olsen that Stephen had left a fortnight ago, without explanation. Without leaving so much as a note behind for her. And now she was at a complete loss, not knowing what to do except wait, trust in him, and try to keep from breaking down completely.

  “There, there...it will all be all right,” she spoke gently to the fool in a choking whisper, in an attempt to also comfort herself. “It will hurt for just a little while, then everything will be better.”

  The faint sound of thunder rumbled overhead, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulde
rs. At least the weather was on her side. A foul and damp day to match her foul and glum mood. And she was glad for it. She didn’t think she could have borne sunshine and blue skies—

  “Faith.”

  She wheeled around, her body flashing numb with stunned surprise. “Stephen?”

  She stared at him, not daring to believe that she wasn’t dreaming, that he truly was here and coming slowly toward her through the stable. Her hand flew up to her chest, as if to physically restrain the thunderous pounding of her heart.

  He stopped a few yards from her and set at his feet a small lidded basket he’d been carrying. Then, without a word, his eyes softening with love, he held open his arms.

  A soft sob tore from her. She ran to him, rushed into his arms, and threw her arms around his shoulders. She buried her face against his neck as she cried, unable to stop the flood of emotion pouring through her.

  The sudden assault on her senses was overwhelming. The familiar scent of him permeated the air around him like the crackle of electricity, and the warm strength of his arms encircling her seeped into her until her stomach fluttered with joy. He was finally here, in her arms where he belonged. He’d come back for her, and she could do nothing but cling to him and sob as happiness swelled inside her.

  “Don’t cry, my love,” he murmured hoarsely into her hair, his head bowed over hers and his arms tightening their hold around her. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  “You were gone so long,” she whispered. Her hands twisted in the lapels of his coat so thoroughly as to never be able to release him. “I didn’t think you were ever going to come for me.”

  “I’m sorry.” His arms tightened around her, as if he were afraid that he’d lose her even now as she stood in his arms, clinging desperately to him. “I came as soon as I could, darling, I promise you that.”

  The pain of the past few weeks went too deep to release so quickly, and she was unable to stop the hot tears that poured from her and soaked into his neck cloth. “When I’d learned that you’d left Elmhurst Park, I thought—” The words choked in her throat. Taking a deep breath, she tried again, finally daring to voice the fear that had tortured her for the past month. “I thought that you’d given up on us.”

  “Never.” He cupped her face in his hands, and not caring if anyone saw them, he kissed her slowly, deeply, thoroughly. Like a starving man who needed to feast on her lips to survive.

  Leaning into him, she eagerly returned the kiss. Her eyes closed, and the sweet sensation carried her away until all she knew was the warmth and strength of him pressing her close, the caresses of his fingers possessively kneading her nape, the love that radiated from him. He was hers, finally and forever. She could barely comprehend all that realization meant, all the love and desire she carried for him.

  When she finally tore her mouth away, to regain the breath he’d claimed, she relaxed against him with a shuddering sigh that swelled up from her core. She belonged right here, holding him like this in his arms, and the last tendrils of fear and worry eased from her.

  “And Mary?” she asked, half-afraid of the answer. “How is she?”

  “Fine. Safe. With the Llewellyns.” His lips brushed against her temple with each word. “They’ve agreed to let her stay, to get to know her and Jeremy.”

  “Oh thank God,” she whispered.

  She felt his mouth smile against her forehead. “I have a gift for you,” he told her softly. “An apology of sorts for making you worry.”

  An apology...when she only wanted his heart. She shook her head, smiling up at him through her tears. “I don’t need anything now that you’re here.”

  He shook his head. “I left you four years ago because I was a damned fool.” His handsome face blurred beneath her tears, but the regret she saw there was unmistakable. “And I had to leave you again these past few weeks in order to make certain that our future together could be a happy one.” He reached down to pick up the wicker basket and held it out to her. “But I promise you that I will never leave you again.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she hesitated to accept it. Everything she’d dreamt about was finally becoming hers, and she could barely absorb it all.

  “Go on, open it,” he urged gently. “I brought it all the way from Elmhurst Park, and the blasted thing nearly killed me,” he explained enigmatically with a soft grimace. “The least you can do is accept it so that I don’t have to die on the way home.”

  What on earth...? Her curiosity got the better of her. Slowly, she opened the basket.

  A tiny ball of snarling white fur hissed at her as a small paw of bared claws swiped in the air.

  Faith blinked. “A kitten?”

  “A man-eating beast,” he corrected, his mouth hardening into a tight grimace. “Scratched the devil out of me putting it into that basket.”

  “Of course it did! The poor thing is terrified.” Another round of hissing and swiping of claws in a fierce display of bravado went up from the basket. Faith grabbed the kitten by the scruff of its neck and held it up. “Hush now.”

  It went still and let out a plaintive mewling that melted Faith’s heart. She pulled it into her arms and cuddled it against her chest, and the kitten curled into a little ball as it began to purr. Then it looked up at Stephen and let out a fierce hiss for good measure.

  “In case that didn’t explain it,” he drawled drolly, “the little beast is a female.”

  “Of course she is.” With a smile, Faith rubbed her cheek against the kitten’s soft fur. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Just like you,” he murmured.

  Her heart skipped. “And fierce.”

  “Just like you,” he repeated, his eyes shining with pride and love.

  Her vision blurred with fresh tears. When the kitten wiggled in her arms, she set it on the ground. It scrambled forward and sank its teeth into Stephen’s boot. He stared down at it, his lips pressed into a tight line, saying nothing.

  Ruefully, Faith gently pulled it away from his boot and sent it scooting in the other direction. It raced down the aisle as if it owned the place, pausing to hiss and swipe its paw at every horse who poked its head out of its stall to investigate it.

  She shook her head. “Charlie the dog is not going to like this!”

  “He’s just going to have to get used to the idea of sharing you,” he murmured, slipping an arm around her waist.

  She continued to watch the kitten as it scampered through the stable. He’d brought her a kitten in apology—unbelievable. And so typical of him, to know exactly what would melt her defenses. What would appeal most to her heart. But then, hadn’t he always been the man who knew her better than anyone else in the world, even four years apart and two continents away?

  Keeping tears of happiness from falling through sheer will, she breathed, “Apology accepted.”

  His shoulders sagged with relief. “Good. Because there’s something else for you inside the basket.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t need any more gifts.” She had his love. She needed nothing else.

  “This isn’t a gift,” he corrected quietly. “It’s a promise.”

  He held the basket toward her.

  Hesitatingly, she reached inside it again. She half-expected a collar for Charlie or some other such trinket for the kitten, but her fingers brushed against something tiny and metal lying on the satin lining.

  She froze, stunned. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe— “Stephen...”

  Smiling at her reaction, he reached into the basket and withdrew the ring. The diamond glittered even in the dim shadows of the rain-dreary day.

  “I love you, Faith.” Dropping the basket to the floor, he reached for her trembling hand and slipped it onto her finger. “And this ring is a promise from my heart to yours that I will never leave you again, that we will be together, now and always.”

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and caressed his lips across the ring, then turned her hand over and placed a delicate
kiss against her palm.

  “Our marriage won’t be easy. Mary and Jeremy are with Daniel’s parents now, but there will always be rumors swirling about them, about me and my past.” He drew a deep breath. “But if you’re strong enough to love me, despite all that, then I want nothing more than to marry you, to make a family and future with you.”

  She sobbed softly when he touched his lips to hers in a kiss so tender, filled with so much love that it tore her breath away.

  He knelt on one knee and took her hands in his. “Will you marry me, Faith?”

  Before she could answer, the kitten raced back and bit at his boot again with a snarl. Despite her tears, a bubble of laughter rose on her lips at his chagrinned expression as he slid a narrowed gaze down at the ball of fur.

  Ignoring the kitten’s fierce snarls as it continued to attack his boot, he pressed on, “Marry me, my Faith. Say you’ll give me a second chance—”

  “Third,” she corrected as she swiped at her tears. “But who’s counting?”

  A slow grin spread across his face as he rose to his feet and slipped his arms around her waist. “I don’t deserve you.”

  She smiled, happiness swelling inside her. “Yet you have me anyway.” Then she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You know what everyone will say,” she warned teasingly, smiling as her cheek rested lovingly against his. “That you married me because it was expected.”

  “With you, darling, I will gladly do the expected.” He lowered his head and kissed her.

  Epilogue

  Elmhurst Park

  One Happy Year Later

  “There you are!” Faith glided into the study with Charlie the dog as ever at her heels and Snowflake the cat nestled in her arms.

  Stephen glanced up and smiled at the sight of her and her animal entourage.

  They’d been married for almost a year, yet he hadn’t grown tired of seeing her beautiful face during long afternoons when he was working at overseeing the marquessate or going over whatever new matter in parliament needed his attention. And he doubted he ever would. Not Faith. Not the woman who brought him more happiness than he could ever have imagined. Just as he’d never grow tired of seeing that same beautiful face filled with pleasure when he made love to her.