Never Surrender to a Scoundrel

by Lily Dalton

Ah, that voice. It was a reminder of all the things he wished to forget. He dropped his hand from Clarissa’s face and straightened, ending the kiss.

  Clarissa peered up at him, looking dazed and shocked, her lips a deep shade of rose now.

  Claxton entered the room, his expression both annoyed and relieved. “There you are, the both of you. If you would come now, please, Lady Margaretta is asking for you. Your wedding déjeuner awaits and you know Cook, he will lose his mind if we don’t go into the dining room immediately—”

  He paused at seeing their visitor.

  “Well, hello there, Quinn. I didn’t realize you were here.”

  Quinn exhaled through his nose, looking very angry. And yet, in the next moment, a warm, gregarious smile spread across his face.

  Hmmm. Impressive. Dominick wondered if he’d ever considered a position in the secret service. He was admirably good at faking.

  Quinn strode toward the duke. “Ah…Your Grace, I stopped by to speak with you about…something or other, but find I have interrupted a…celebration. My bit of nonsense can certainly wait. I don’t wish to intrude.”

  The duke rested his hand on the carved upper frame of a chair. His ducal ring glinted in the midday light shining through the open window. “Blackmer and I were at the office of the archbishop this morning. We heard something about you having gotten married as well.” His cheek drew back in a grin. “Is that true?”

  “Lord Quinn had just informed us,” Clarissa responded with a nod. “We had not yet even had the opportunity to offer our congratulations before you entered.”

  Dominick chuckled darkly. Clarissa discreetly pinched the back of his arm, as if to silence him, which only made him chuckle again.

  Lord Quinn threw him a sharp look. Claxton, a curious glance.

  “I’ll walk you out,” the duke offered to Quinn, and together they walked toward the door.

  “Lord Quinn,” called Dominick.

  Both he and Claxton turned back. Though the duke couldn’t see Quinn from his perspective, the other man’s countenance had gone icy cold.

  Dominick bent toward the floor. “You…forgot your hat.”

  “My thanks,” Quinn gritted between his teeth. He snatched the hat from Dominick’s hand and, turning on the heel of his boot, disappeared into the corridor. Claxton followed.

  Dominick offered Clarissa his arm, and she accepted. Together they followed the other two toward the entrance hall.

  “Thank you for that,” Clarissa whispered confidentially. “I’m eternally grateful. His expression! Priceless. I shall never forget.”

  “I did it more for me than for you,” Dominick murmured in response.

  “Will there be a honeymoon?” the duke inquired as they arrived near the front doors of the house.

  Lord Quinn nodded curtly, and turned on his heel toward them. Behind him a footman signaled out the door, toward the street, motioning to his lordship’s driver. “We were to have departed yesterday after the ceremony, to my family estate in Wilshire, but Lady Quinn is…” A flash of annoyance crossed his countenance. “Well, she is very attached to her mother and needed another day.” He looked sharply at Clarissa and Dominick, his jaw tautened and nostrils flared. “And what about the two of you?”

  “A honeymoon?” Clarissa said, lifting a hand to her throat.

  Dominick answered smoothly. “Why, yes, indeed and we’ve a long journey ahead of us, so we will depart within the hour.”

  Clarissa could no longer criticize her family’s treatment of her new husband. Indeed, as they had enjoyed Cook’s masterfully prepared repast, they had all done their best to be gracious and draw Blackmer into conversation. Only now it was he who persisted in making everyone ill at ease. For the entirety of the meal he remained steadfastly aloof, refusing to engage in all but the briefest exchanges. After a miserable hour confined to the dining room and what quickly became forced small talk, they again adjourned to the drawing room, and everyone scattered to opposite ends of the cavernous chamber.

  Clarissa did as she felt proper and remained by her new husband’s side. Even so, Mr. Blackmer made no real effort to speak to her, but brooded out the window while she sat in a nearby chair. No further mention had been made of any honeymoon or an immediate departure. She’d been too afraid to even mention the subject, for fear he would repeat his earlier intention. She hoped the mention of their leaving London together, as man and wife, had only been part of the farce he’d been putting on for Quinn.

  Because…leave? With him? She didn’t even know him. Even though she’d taken vows, she didn’t feel like anyone’s wife, most especially not the stone-faced stranger at the window.

  As if he heard her thoughts, Mr. Blackmer pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and, after glancing at its face, quietly said, “The day’s getting on. You’ll want to say your good-byes now.”

  “Now?” she answered, stunned. She stood and joined him at the window. “I haven’t packed my things. I’ll need time to plan and prepare.”

  He answered in the same even tone. “Your maid, Miss Randolph, has been very helpful in that regard. Everything has been secured onto the carriage.”

  Her pulse increased. “You had my things packed, without telling me?”

  One dark brow lifted higher than the other. “I’m telling you now.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my home,” he answered distantly.

  “To your London house?” she inquired hopefully. That would just be across town, and she could still see her family as often as she liked.

  His jaw twitched, and heat flared in his eyes. “I don’t have a house anymore. If you will recall, until last night, I’d intended to take my leave of London. I relinquished the lease. The house has been closed up.”

  Just feet away, her family talked amongst themselves, with only her sisters glancing toward them from time to time.

  “I see,” she said, anxiety bunching into a tight ball between her shoulders. “Are we going to take a house elsewhere?”

  He did look at her now with fire in his eyes. “Clarissa. I have been relieved of my livelihood and have no suitable means of supporting you. That leaves me with little choice but to return, with you, to my family home, where after a time I hope more suitable arrangements can be made.”

  Her cheeks burned. He didn’t blame her for anything. Not with words. But his eyes did.

  “Where does your family live?” she asked quietly.

  He scowled. “In Northumbria.”

  Northumbria. That was so far away. She’d never even traveled that far north. There it would always be cloudy and cold, just like Mr. Blackmer’s eyes.

  “Why don’t we just stay here, at least for the time being? There’s plenty of room, even if you wished to have your own quarters.” Yes, he could have his own quarters, and she would have hers, and they could get to know one another over time and perhaps even grow to like each other.

  Not that she didn’t like him. But things had been so tense, and she had the distinct feeling he did not like her very much at all. Not anymore. How could she blame him?

  “That arrangement will not suffice,” he said, his speech clipped.

  “But why?” she whispered, not wishing to alert her family to what very well might be their first quarrel. Still, she felt desperate to change his mind. She reached for his hands. “Why the need to rush away?”

  In a sudden move he caught her by the wrists instead. Not roughly. Gently, actually, with his palms and fingers just grazing her skin, almost as if he was reluctant to touch her, wary of getting too close. Yet his dark eyes peered down at her, in that moment completely unguarded. She knew in that moment that, while things might be difficult between them, she would never have cause to fear him.

  She stared back, unafraid. “Tell me.”

  He answered in clipped syllables. “Because I refuse to remain under this roof where I am believed by all to be a villain. A seducer and conniver. I have been unfairly maligned and co
ndemned, and there is nothing I can do or say in defense of myself. Please know I like your family. I admire them, one and all. Do you realize how difficult this is for me to be here, under these circumstances?”

  He released her and stepped back, his gaze no less intense.

  “Dominick, I’m sorry,” she said, opening her palms to him. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

  Dominick flinched, hearing her speak his given name for the first time, with such emotion in her voice. No matter how angry he was, it wasn’t his intention to hurt or punish her.

  “I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry,” he said. “I know that you are. At the same time, please understand I have lost everything.”

  “Because of me.”

  “Yes, because of you,” he muttered. “But I don’t despise you for it. I know you didn’t intend any of this.”

  She nodded, her hands coming together in front of her bodice. “We’re married now—there’s no turning back from it. But perhaps my grandfather was wrong for insisting that we keep everything a secret.” She glanced across the room at her family, who were doing their best not to be obvious about being riveted to their heated discussion. “Let me tell them the truth about what you’ve sacrificed for me. I beg you. My conscience demands it.”

  He stared into her blue eyes. Dear, foolish girl. He knew her intentions were pure, but how little she understood of a man’s honor and his pride when it came to his offspring and the legacy he would one day leave behind.

  “Wolverton wasn’t wrong,” he answered. “He understands, more than anyone, the power of blood. I don’t have much control over this situation, but I shall exert control in this. I won’t have the child…” He closed his eyes. “Our child ever doubting his or her place in the world, nor anyone else challenging their legitimacy.”

  He did not know this girl he had married. Not well enough to bare his soul to her and tell her that early in his marriage to Tryphena, after months of trying for a baby, a physician had told them she was most likely barren, although by all accounts her health was absolutely perfect. A second physician and then a third professed the same opinion, although strangely they too deemed his wife as being in possession of all the necessary qualities of a fertile woman.

  He’d known then the deficiency was somehow his, and he’d seen in Tryphena’s eyes that she knew it too, though no doctor would ever dare say it because women, it seemed, were always to blame in such matters, something Dominick found ludicrous. As if the male body were never defective or infertile. In another life, perhaps he would have been a scientist and proved it.

  Whatever the truth, the news had crushed them both, him feeling cursed and her devastated to learn she’d likely never be a mother. It was then they’d first begun to grow apart.

  He had not wanted to marry Clarissa, but what was done was done. The one blessing he could see in the whole miserable situation was that in a matter of months he would be a father, when he’d long given up hope of ever experiencing that joy. He would have the honor of being there from the child’s birth, to its first step and its first spoken word. He would be more of a father than his own had ever been, and like a lion he would protect what belonged to him from any threat of harm.

  “Thank you for caring about the baby so much.” She nodded, pale and blinking. “I consider myself fortunate to have married you. I admire you for what you’ve done.”

  “Well, don’t,” he muttered. “Not yet. I’m still too bloody furious about this whole situation to be considered anything close to admirable. I have no choice but to remain the villain, seducer, and conniver they believe me to be—and I will do so.” The hard look returned to his eyes. “Just don’t expect me to stay here.”

  “I understand.” She nodded—and though she trembled with emotion, she offered him a brave smile, which he appreciated more than he could convey at present. “I shall inform everyone that we will be departing shortly.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Clarissa approached her family. “Mr. Blackmer and I will be departing soon.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened. “Soon, when?”

  “Soon as in now,” Clarissa said, forcing a smile. “I shall have the honor of meeting Mr. Blackmer’s family. I must go upstairs and change for travel.”

  “We must leave posthaste to arrive by nightfall at a suitable inn,” Blackmer said in a clear voice. “We will travel to my family home in Northumbria.”

  “So far?” her mother said, her eyes shining with sudden tears. “Why not just stay here tonight and leave in the morning?”

  Clarissa’s emotions shattered to pieces. There had already been too many tears today.

  “It’s all right, Mother,” she answered. “Truly, I’m ready.”

  But she wasn’t. She’d never passed a single night away from her family and had never really thought about how it would feel to leave them. She’d just assumed that when she married, she’d be deliriously happy and in love and there would be no sadness.

  Her mother nodded and, coming closer, pressed a hand to her cheek. “You will need warmer clothes. It’s been a cold summer, and will be much colder in Northumbria.”

  Sophia added, “It will take hours to pack.”

  “Again, why not delay your departure until tomorrow?” Daphne suggested with cheerful enthusiasm, as if there could be no other answer but hers.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” said Blackmer from where he stood by the window, holding himself removed from the rest of them.

  “Ladies, you must respect Mr. Blackmer’s decision,” Claxton said quietly. “And Clarissa’s.”

  Her wishes. She avoided meeting their eyes, because she feared if she did, they’d all see the truth, that she didn’t want to leave.

  “Miss Randolph has already packed my belongings,” Clarissa announced. “I’ll just hurry upstairs and change.”

  “We’ll come with you,” said Daphne, tugging at Sophia’s arm. Their mother followed. They all three looked over their shoulders at Mr. Blackmer pleadingly, clearly hopeful he would change his mind.

  Yet he moved toward the door. “I shall see to the carriage.”

  He’d already seen to the carriage. Clarissa suspected he simply couldn’t bear to remain in the drawing room with Claxton and Raikes and Mr. Birch.

  A half hour later, she stood by her grandfather’s bedside, with Mr. Blackmer beside her, his expression grim.

  “Grandfather, Mr. Blackmer and I are leaving.” Her throat closed as a deep sadness rose up from inside. She’d done so well until now, managing not to cry. But he looked so frail, and she couldn’t help but feel responsible and fear she might never see him again. “I’m going to meet his family.”

  The earl’s eyes remained closed and his breathing ragged. She rested her hand on his chest and bent down to press a kiss to his cheek.

  His hand covered hers, and he murmured, “Good girl…Mr. Blackmer…is a fine man, who will be a good husband…and father to my grandchild. You will see. Everything will be…all right.”

  “What did he say?” asked Lady Margaretta in a soft voice.

  Clarissa lifted her grandfather’s hand and kissed the knuckles. “He wishes Mr. Blackmer and me well. Thank you, Grandfather,” she whispered. “I’ll see you again very soon.”

  Mr. Blackmer’s hand touched her elbow, and he gently drew her away as her vision blurred. All of a sudden she found herself in the arbor of his strong arm, crying into his chest, which was more comforting than she’d expected. He smelled very nice. Clean and masculine, like soap and leather.

  Outdoors, he left her side and proceeded toward the street. A brisk wind met them, and a blanket of clouds in the sky. Having changed into a cambric dress and simple pelisse of cerulean blue, more suitable for travel, Clarissa dabbed a handkerchief at her eyes. Her mother and sisters did the same, while Claxton and Mr. Birch looked on solemnly. Raikes had gone to the nursery and fetched little Michael from his nap, who, seeing the ladies’ tears—oh, the darling boy—to
ok to crying as well. Clarissa squeezed the boy around his small shoulders and gave him a kiss.

  “Aunt Clarissa will miss you so much.”

  She turned and moved from one family member to the next, embracing and kissing them all. “Well, it seems this is good-bye, for now. Not forever, of course.” After one final glance to them all, Mr. Blackmer, with a hand to her elbow, helped her up the steps.

  Miss Randolph, her lady’s maid, already waited inside, dressed in staid traveling clothes. An older woman, with dark hair, now streaked with gray, she looked at Clarissa as she entered and smiled her usual pleasant smile.

  Miss Randolph took her profession seriously. Clarissa had never once heard her complain. True to form, the older woman appeared completely content with their present situation, giving no outward hint of what she might be feeling inside. Unlike the close bond shared by Daphne and her lady’s maid, Kate, Clarissa and Miss Randolph were not in the practice of confiding in one another or chatting about every little thing. This, at Miss Randolph’s quiet insistence. Indeed, the woman already held a book in her hand and a finger holding her place on the page, as if she were already immersed.

  Mr. Blackmer reached inside and stowed Clarissa’s valise under the seat, then crouched to enter. He lowered his tall, long-legged frame to the center of the bench across from them. Here, in such closed confines, he looked larger and more imposing than before.

  Wolverton’s footman removed the steps and latched the door, and at once the wheels began to turn. Clarissa peered out the window, waving as the faces of her loved ones grew distant. Mr. Blackmer, tellingly, looked out of the opposite window.

  The carriage turned the corner and, despite straining, she could see her family no more. Not even the house she had called home for so many years. She closed her eyes and, with a gloved hand, smothered the sob of anguish that bubbled up from inside her chest. Never before had she felt as alone as in this moment.

  She rested her hand on her stomach and remembered the child she carried, and knew she must get used to the idea she wasn’t alone at all. Knowing there would be a baby soon to love and care for made everything feel better. She only hoped Mr. Blackmer would allow her, as his wife, to take care of him too. That they could eventually talk to one another and enjoy each other’s company.