by Mary Brendan
‘And your father?’
Drew shrugged. ‘I never knew him. She said he was a soldier, although I can’t be certain of it, or that she ever married him.’
The lack of feeling in his voice mirrored the bleakness in his profile and made Joan feel like weeping for the sorrow he must have endured as the child of such feckless parents. Of course he knew how to look after himself...for who else had he ever had to rely on? Joan suddenly felt a fierce longing to comfort and protect that lost boy she sensed was still imprisoned in his soul.
‘Your stepfather... Peter Rockleigh...he knew about your mother’s background, didn’t he, and loved her despite her faults.’ Joan’s voice was soft, persuading him to trust her...tell her more of his childhood.
‘He did, the fool, and God knows he strove to have her...all of us...accepted, using his money and his influence to blot out our pasts and build our futures.’
‘And it worked; he did a fine job for all of you. I’ve never heard a whisper of scandal about your family. My father holds your stepfather in high esteem and he’s never spoken ill of your mother, or any of you. Even when Papa knew you were a street fighter he didn’t change his mind. He was saddened by your misfortune but his greatest concern was that you knew too much about my misdemeanours.’
Drew swung a mordant look at her. ‘You mean he feared me a blackmailer no better than Pryke and Stokes.’
Joan bit her lip, then said carefully, ‘He said he understood how an empty belly might make a sinner of a saint.’
‘I’m no saint.’ Drew’s mouth twisted in a half-smile. ‘And I’ve not gone hungry since I was nine years old...so no way of knowing whether your father’s theory that I’m easily corrupted is right.’
‘You wouldn’t betray me.’ Joan’s flat statement was followed by a small contented sigh.
‘Why would I not?’
‘Because a gentleman does not seek to turn a lady’s peccadilloes to his own advantage.’
Drew’s sardonic smile was back, twisting his mouth. ‘And now that you know I am not a gentleman will you reconsider what you’ve said?’
‘The fact that you had an unfortunate start in life does not mean you are a base character. A true gentleman is made, not born.’
Drew threw back his head and barked a mirthless laugh. ‘That’s a nice way of putting it.’
‘When I arrive home, will you come in and speak to my father and tell him all that you’ve told me?’
‘Why? The man is recovering from illness; I doubt he wants to be regaled with a sordid tale of my past.’
‘He would want to know. I want him to know. I have said that he likes you...he always has...even when you snubbed him and refused to marry me.’
Drew jerked his head around to again brood at the night sky. ‘I imagine your father will soon be counting his blessings on that score, and so should you. His Grace would reach for his pistols if I had the temerity to ask you for a dance now.’ His mouth pursed in ironic humour. ‘Yet once I could have taken his assets and his daughter, and he’d have thanked me for it.’
‘Why did you not?’ Joan whispered.
‘Because you didn’t want me to,’ he replied through his teeth as though every word was an effort to expel.
‘But I did,’ Joan quietly confessed. As he swung his face her way she averted her bashful expression. ‘Oh, I know I said I would not have you...but only after Papa told me you’d refused to countenance the match even should he pay you handsomely.’ She moved her head, recalling her despair. ‘I was so humiliated when I found out he’d done that.’ She glanced up, meeting a forceful stare that seemed to pin her down. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she whispered.
‘You’d have accepted a simple proposal?’
‘Yes...’ Joan croaked, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
‘There’s no need to be upset now, sweetheart.’ Drew gave a hollow laugh. ‘I had pride, too, and decided not to risk my high-born wife despising me when she learned of my lowly roots. I was too cowardly to do it so kept quiet.’
Joan grabbed at his strong dark fingers and gave them a punishing shake. ‘I have discovered your roots and I do not despise you! Do you think my father, or me, to be people who disregard our emotions and instincts about a person to worship pedigree instead?’ Joan flung his hands from her and gestured angrily. ‘Papa had experienced knowing you in society and thought you a fine fellow. I...I intuitively recognised that you were kind and decent when you escorted me home.’ Joan tutted in exasperation. ‘I think you must despise me, if you believe me so shallow—’
‘What are you implying?’ Drew interrupted. He leant forward, his hands shooting out to recapture her fidgeting fingers.
‘I’m saying that the person you are now is what is important to me and it makes no difference where you started,’ Joan answered hotly. ‘I know that it should; I know it is expected that I will make a match with a rich nobleman’s heir...blue bloods, you called them. But why should I be shaped by my birth any more than you should be by yours? Why must I follow custom when I don’t care for lineage or a loveless marriage any more than your stepfather did, or Henry Laurenson does, or, for that matter, my maid does?’ She sighed. ‘Oh, Anna’s beau is also my father’s servant, but expectations exist below stairs just as they do above. Anna is content with who Pip is and what he does, and ignores her colleagues’ mutterings.’ Joan freed one of her hands, hesitating slightly before cupping his lean, shady jaw. She knew there was no going back now. The uncertainty and wonderment in his eyes made him look young and vulnerable. ‘Your father saw in your mother something that you did not...something worth fighting...perhaps even dying for.’ She blinked away the tears forming on her lashes. ‘I felt that way about you today. I would have tried to rescue you, you know, with my puny fists, if necessary. But of course you did not need my help. You never need my help. It is always me who needs your assistance.’
‘It’s the right way of things...a man should protect the woman he loves.’
Barely had Joan absorbed his husky declaration when two strong arms whipped her from her seat. Drew deposited her next to him, then braced an arm across her. Lowering his head, he took her lips in a wooing salute. ‘You mean it, don’t you?’ he said. ‘It makes no difference to you that I’m the bastard son of a whore and can’t be sure who my father is. You still love me.’
‘I do mean every word and you should not speak of your mother like that,’ Joan gently chided. ‘We must cherish our memories of our mamas, for it seems both were taken from us too soon.’ Joan rested her forehead against his rough chin. ‘I miss my mother and think about her every day although Maude is the sweetest, kindest of women. And she makes my father happy for which I am very thankful. But blood is blood and the bond at birth is surely strongly forged.’ Joan sighed. ‘I know you must have harrowing memories of your childhood, but never forget that your mother brought you into Peter Rockleigh’s world. She is the one who made a fine gentleman love her enough to raise her children as his own after she had passed on. Your stepfather did not do it for you, Drew...he did it for her, to honour her memory. And you should not think the worse of him for it.’
Drew tenderly raised her face with a long finger, touching together their lips. ‘My mother seemed cold to my stepfather at times and I have often questioned if she really loved him at all. She certainly did not adore him as he did her. I have wondered if she sacrificed her passion for riotous living for the sakes of her children’s futures.’
‘Let us believe that indeed she did do that and that she also loved Mr Rockleigh in her own way.’ Joan smiled winsomely, then she raised her face, tempting him to kiss her again.
Coiling her arms about his neck, Joan eagerly responded when his tongue slid to caress the silky contours of her mouth. As their lips unsealed, Joan whispered, not wholly joking, ‘But understand this, Drew
Rockleigh, I’ll accept you being a guttersnipe, but I will never share you with any woman...even one as nice as Constance Cook.’
Drew buried his face against her neck, concealing his smile at her jealousy. ‘I swear that I had finished with Constance even before you told me how you felt about me this afternoon.’
‘Good...’ Joan murmured. ‘But there is something else I must scold you about: you should not have had the vicarage school closed and made the children suffer.’
‘I know and I regret doing it, but my main concern was for your safety,’ he answered huskily. ‘I was scared that you’d come back at a time when I wasn’t there to protect you. The idea that you might have been robbed or assaulted by the likes of Stokes’s itinerants was something that has tortured me.’
‘I understand that, Drew,’ Joan said quietly. ‘But it is not fair to deprive the children for my sake. I now feel as guilty as you over it.’
‘You’ve no need to feel guilty and neither shall I when my plans come to fruition.’
‘Plans? For what?’ Joan immediately asked, a smile emerging.
‘I know how important schooling is for slum children...it is their passage to a different existence. I, of all people, know that.’ Drew paused. ‘My stepfather bestowed on us his respectable life; equally important to me as good food and clothes was self-respect and an education.’ He frowned. ‘Bertha saw things differently and would escape her governess at every opportunity. Perhaps if she had stayed in the classroom and read something of value instead of hiding in cupboards, browsing the fashion journals, she might have set her sights higher than a future of harlotry and swindle.’
‘I loved learning, too,’ Joan enthused. ‘Foreign lands and the weird and wonderful folk that live there...I have long wished to travel and learn more about those magical things that I have read about in books.’
‘I’d like to travel with you and I know that you will love learning about things that are magical on that particular trip.’
Drew’s smile was tinged with a wickedness that made Joan blush. ‘What plans did you speak of?’ Quickly she returned to her original line of questioning. ‘Are you hinting at helping to start a ragged school to replace the one you had closed?’
‘I have purchased a freehold on a small disused warehouse by the docks. At present it is dilapidated, but workmen have started on the repairs. When it is close to being finished I shall offer the building to the Reverend Walters to turn it into a school for local children.’
‘Oh, that’s so kind, Drew! I’m sure Vincent will be delighted to accept. Thank you...’ Joan flung her arms about him, hugging him and rewarding him with a spontaneous kiss. ‘I will dedicate every possible free moment to assisting the vicar when it opens.’
‘Perhaps you will...on those days that I accompany you there,’ Drew said smoothly. Before she could protest he added, ‘I should act the gentleman now and insist you speak to your father before offering yourself to an unworthy rogue such as me.’ He gazed at her, his frown deepening. ‘But I don’t want to be brave in case he denies me what I want most in the world.’
‘I need no advice; I know my own mind and I have gained my majority. I believe in myself and in you. If Papa were to object it would surprise me...and sadden me. But I would follow my heart and go with you...if you’ll take me.’
‘You know I’ve been aching to do that for a very long time.’ He groaned against the soft cushion of ringlets draping her shoulder.
‘You really love me, Drew?’ she asked softly and as he raised his silver head she watched his eyes.
‘I didn’t think I would ever fall in love or get married,’ he admitted huskily. ‘What I had seen of the relationships between men and women made me think matrimony was for fools. I didn’t like being a cynic, but it seemed to suit me.’
‘And now?’
‘Now...if wanting you always with me, wanting you as my wife and the mother of my children, means that I’m in love...then I love you with heart, body and soul.’ He smiled wolfishly. ‘If wanting to sleep with you within minutes of meeting you counts, then I went head over heels the moment you entered my hunting lodge and demanded an audience with my friend.’
‘I expect you thought I was the veriest hussy that night.’
‘I thought I’d struck lucky, sweetheart.’ Drew chuckled. ‘I imagined you’d come from a local hostelry to offer me your services.’
‘Did you, indeed!’ Joan gasped a scandalised laugh. ‘That’s the second time this evening I’ve been confused with a harlot. Miss Cook said that Stokes called me names.’
‘And he deserves to meet his maker just for that,’ Drew growled.
‘Are we to marry, then?’ Joan said, soothing his anger by softly brushing her lips on his cheek.
‘Is that a proposal, my lady?’ Drew asked solemnly.
‘I suppose it is as it seems you’re too shy to ask me; but I refuse to go down on one knee. There are some things that only the gentleman should do.’
Drew slipped humbly on to his knees on the floor of the coach. Gently taking both her hands in his, he raised them to kiss the soft white knuckles with utmost reverence. ‘Please will you do this undeserving wretch the great honour of becoming his wife and allow him to take you on a magical honeymoon across the seas?’
‘I will, with the utmost pleasure, sir,’ Joan replied quietly, her hand slipping over the crown of his head, relishing the stroke of the silver strands against her fingers.
‘I’ll do all in my power to prove to you you’ve not mistaken my character. I have a good income and a substantial property in both London and the countryside. I’ll work hard to improve on what I’ve got and give you everything you deserve.’
‘Oh, you don’t need to, Drew,’ Joan soothed him. ‘I have everything I need because I know you will love and cherish me and our children every day of our lives,’ she said with simple sincerity. ‘And in return I will always believe in you and love you no matter what spiteful people say to try to spoil it for us,’ Joan concluded through the wedge of emotion blocking her throat.
‘There will be some, too, who will rejoice in the chance of that.’ Drew’s statement was devoid of self-pity.
Joan accepted his warning with a sorrowful nod, thinking of her Aunt Dorothea and her cronies. ‘We must speak to my father straight away. We will be home quite soon,’ Joan whispered in a way that made him smile.
‘Not much time, then.’ He glanced up, an ardent gleam in his tawny eyes. ‘What would you like to do, my lady, while we ride those few miles?’
Joan sank back against the squabs and in a fluid movement Drew had risen to settle beside her.
Joan’s fingers went to her cloak fastenings and she opened them slowly, quivering in delight as his hands immediately slipped inside to shape her body with caresses.
‘We’re suited, you and I,’ Drew murmured against her pulsating lips. ‘In every possible way and especially in this wonderful way.’
Joan nodded, her tongue unconsciously wetting her lips in anticipation of a kiss.
Drew watched the movement, then his eyes closed and he gave a strangled laugh. Tenderly he brushed his lips on hers, pulling together the edges of her cloak. ‘Don’t tempt me, Joan, I beg, because I might not be able to stop this time. Your first proper loving should be slow and luxurious and savoured to the full on a feather bed.’
‘I...I don’t mind now,’ she said, blushing to the roots of her chestnut locks.
‘But I do, sweetheart,’ Drew said softly. ‘A savage I may be...but not with you...never with you.’
He put his arm around her and pulled her close so her head rested on his chest and he could cuddle her to him.
‘Besides...a honeymoon baby we might get away with, any sooner than that and the Duke will call for seconds.’
Joan slanted a look up at him, he
r grey eyes aglow with adoration. ‘You had better bring the Squire along on our wedding night, sir, or I shall think I’ve greatly mistaken you and demand an annulment.’
Drew threw back his head to choke a guffaw. ‘If it’s a ruffian you want...I’ll gladly oblige,’ he teased in a sultry tone, then bruised her lips with a kiss. ‘But in return, my lady, I shall want you to wear your tiara to bed...but nothing else...’
With a kittenish sigh Joan murmured agreement, then Drew’s mouth again covered his future wife’s, making her playfully wrestle him for her freedom.
As the coach swayed and a few muffled squeals and giggles met his ears, Pip, atop his perch, smiled in satisfaction and reined in the horses to a slower pace so my lady and her boxer might revel in one another’s company for what was left of the journey to Upper Brook Street.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Why... I had no idea you had gone out, Lady Joan! The Duke and Duchess thought you were resting in your room.’
Tobias Bartlett’s startled exclamation was accompanied by a bleary-eyed stare at the handsome gentleman with the master’s daughter. Had Tobias known what surprise awaited him prior to locking up he’d not have succumbed to snoozing in the winged armchair. The young people had entered quietly, but Tobias, used to the nocturnal outings of frisky footmen, was alert to the sound of a key turning gently in a lock. He had come awake with a start and staggered to his feet in the alcove, straightening his uniform.
Tobias was acquainted with all the family’s kith and kin. Mr Rockleigh had been a welcome, if infrequent, visitor to the Duke’s address. In common with others, Tobias had heard that the fellow had sunk very low, but he had bounced back judging by the look of him. From Lady Joan’s doe eyes Tobias took it that Rockleigh remained very much an intimate friend of the family.
‘The Duke and Duchess have finished dining,’ Tobias rattled off. ‘Your father ate quite heartily, but he is still frail and it would be best not to worry him in any way, my lady...’ A respectful caution had crept into the butler’s voice.