Never Surrender to a Scoundrel

by Lily Dalton

  Clarissa sat up and gathered Samuel in his blanket. “I’d like to take him up myself. If you could just hold him for a moment while I tidy up?”

  “I might be persuaded to do that.” Her smile broadening, Miss Randolph reached for the baby, lifting him into her arms with the blanket trailing over. Peering down, she gazed into his face, smiling. “The things I do for you, Master Samuel.”

  He let out a bellow. Miss Randolph lifted him to her shoulder and rubbed his back, drifting toward the window, where afternoon light streamed through. “Some letters arrived. From your mother and sisters.”

  Clarissa’s heart jumped. Letters! She couldn’t get enough of them. While the repairs to Frost End had been made, she and Blackmer had remained at Darthaven for the birth of their firstborn and thereafter, and had been very happy with their decision to stay. She had grown so much closer to Lord and Lady Stade, and Colin, and now truly thought of them as her family. She had also made many new friends, both in Ashington and on the surrounding estates. Still, she missed her family, and looked forward to next spring. Samuel would be old enough to travel, and Dominick had promised her they could go to London for the season. She couldn’t wait to introduce her husband and children to all her friends.

  “I’ll read them when I return, when you try to make sense of my hair.”

  Miss Randolph nodded, her cheek resting atop Samuel’s downy head. “I’ll place them on the dressing table.”

  Clarissa washed at the basin and, with a quick glance in the mirror, did her best to repair her crushed hair. In the closet, she found her shoes.

  A moment later, she climbed the stairs, Samuel snuggled in her arms. Clarissa could only smile now, thinking back on the difficulties that had once so divided her husband’s family. Those same difficulties had, in the end, brought them closer together. They had all come so far, and it seemed the high walls they had built up against one another had never existed at all.

  As for Colin, every now and then he broached the subject of marrying and taking residence at Frost End, but thus far he had shown no preference for any particular young lady and seemed content working together with Dominick to manage the family’s estates.

  Once upstairs, Clarissa neared the nursery and to her surprise saw her brother-in-law Colin standing in the shadows outside the open half-door, smiling, his eyes bright with humor. Seeing her, he pressed a finger to his lips—then extended his hand, urging her to join him.

  Only when she stood very close did he whisper, “The footman told me I could find Blackmer here. Just look what I found.”

  From inside the room, she heard a small voice say “You, sit.”

  “I am sitting, sweetheart,” said Dominick. Then more quietly, “If you can call it that.”

  He chuckled, and other voices laughed, those of Lord and Lady Stade.

  Clarissa’s eyes widened at the scene inside. She bit her lower lip, so as not to laugh and reveal herself.

  Inside the nursery, Dominick sat on a miniature chair, at a miniature table, the tops of his knees almost level with his chin. A miniature tiara with paste diamonds sparkled in his dark hair. He smiled down, clearly smitten by his tiny, almost-two-year-old hostess, who held out her hands to him—one holding a small teacup and in the other, its matching saucer, and pressing them into his hands.

  “Thank you, my dear,” he said, righting the upside-down cup onto the saucer and cradling them on his palm.

  Clarissa’s heart warmed, so full of love and pride she felt dizzied by it.

  Gold ringlets bobbed as the little girl toddled around the table in a yellow dress, unceremoniously pressing a cup and saucer into each guest’s waiting hands—for across the table from her father sat her grandparents, also perched on tiny chairs and wearing tiaras.

  “Thank you, Lady Abigail,” her ladyship exclaimed, her eyes warm with affection.

  “Such a sweet child.” Lord Stade chuckled.

  His tiara slid off his bald pate and thunked onto the floor. Abigail immediately took note and pattered to his side. Bending, she retrieved the fallen crown and returned it to her grandpapa’s tilted head. He held it there, balancing it as she waddled away.

  Abigail’s smiling nanny stepped forward holding a wooden tray upon which sat a tiny teapot. The child reached for the pot with both chubby hands. Swinging it toward her visitors, “Teeeeeaaaaa?” she offered.

  “Why, yes, thank you,” Dominick said.

  Clarissa couldn’t help but sigh. Her husband had never been so charming or looked as handsome as he did now, doting on their daughter.

  Abigail clanked the pot against her father’s teacup, nearly toppling it from the saucer, then paused…her eyes focusing on the doorway. “Mama?” She smiled, dropped the pot to the carpet, and clasped her hands, fingers spread wide against her cheeks. “Baby?”

  Dominick’s gaze redirected toward the door to meet Clarissa’s. In that moment, his cheeks warmed ruddily and he grinned. Carefully, he unfolded his long legs and tall frame from the small chair to stand like a Titan at the center of the nursery in white shirt, breeches, and boots as the little girl rushed to the door. He followed, while the nursemaid did her best to assist Lord and Lady Stade up from their chairs.

  “Hello, Abigail,” Clarissa called.

  “We didn’t want to interrupt your tea party,” Colin added, reaching over the door and plucking up his niece. “Give Uncle a kiss.”

  She dutifully bussed his cheek—then reached for Clarissa, leaning sideways with her arms wide. “Mama!”

  Dominick opened the door, his gaze on Samuel. “Give me the ruffian.”

  He took Samuel from Clarissa, and she in turn accepted Abigail from Colin, who appeared unabashedly dismayed at being so quickly cast off by his favorite—and only—niece. He let out an exaggerated growl. “I’ve got to get some little people of my own.”

  “I’m in complete agreement,” answered Clarissa. “Would you like me to invite that pretty Miss Grayson for tea? Or perhaps Lady Barrington—”

  His gaze narrowed warily and he answered, “No, thank you. I can do very well on my own.”

  But then he smiled—looking at Clarissa and his brother, holding their two children. “What a fine family you are.”

  He strode off toward his parents.

  Clarissa looked up at Dominick. “I agree.”

  He bent to press a quick kiss to her forehead, his voice soft. “As do I.”

  His tiara slipped off, falling between them. Clarissa caught it with one hand, and they laughed.

  “Would you like to put it back on?” said Clarissa, offering its return.

  He shook his head and chuckled. “I’ve rather had my fill of such frippery, at least for the afternoon. Perhaps I’ll wear diamonds for dinner.”

  “Mine,” said Abigail, grinning, taking the crown and wiggling to be freed. Set down, she trundled toward Colin.

  Her uncle’s eyes lit up. “I get to wear the crown now? I’m so lucky.”

  Looking at them, he winked, before allowing himself to be directed by his hostess to one of the small chairs. Lord and Lady Stade, despite their complaints about aging bones, also returned to their places at the table. The nursemaid approached and offered to take Samuel, at which time she and the baby were also led away, the little girl tugging at her skirts. Soon she too was seated, Samuel in her arms, a tiara being perched ever so gently on his small head by his doting sister.

  “It appears they are all having a wonderful time,” Dominick observed.

  “As am I, just watching them,” replied Clarissa, delighted.

  He bent to murmur in her ear. “I haven’t seen you all day. I was…hoping I might persuade you into the corridor.”

  Her cheeks warmed at the flirtatious tone of his voice. He slipped his hand into hers and, lifting it, pressed his mouth to her fingers.

  “I don’t think you’d have to do much as far as persuasion,” she murmured, allowing him to lead her out of the room.

  He led her to the end of th
e corridor, into a shadowed alcove where a small window overlooked the lawn, including the long drive that led to Darthaven. Dark clouds rippled across the sky, casting them both in dim blue light.

  She shivered. “It already looks like winter out there.”

  “It won’t be long.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

  “Are you happy here?”

  “Wildly so,” he said. His warmth made her shiver, in the nicest possible way. From the nursery came the sound of laughter, and a happy squeal from Abigail.

  They smiled at one another, Clarissa peering up at him. “It was a day much like this when we arrived at Darthaven, a little more than two years ago. Can you believe it?”

  “I couldn’t be happier.” His head lowered and kissed her nose. “I mean that. I couldn’t imagine being more content and fulfilled as a man, as a husband and a father, than I am now. It’s all because of you.”

  “I feel the same,” she murmured. Yet her smile faded. “There’s only the one dark spot.”

  “Mmm,” he answered. “St. Guerlain.”

  “And his Black Violins,” she murmured.

  “It hasn’t been so bad, has it?”

  “No, it hasn’t.” The security agents who protected the house and grounds were largely unnoticeable. “But wouldn’t it be nice to wake up one day and know there wasn’t anything to worry about? To know that everyone was safe, at last, with no fears for the future?”

  “It would be,” he replied.

  “Do you think that will ever happen?”

  “I do. In fact, I feel very strongly that very soon we’ll have resolution.”

  “I pray you’re right. Look there, a carriage just came through the gates,” said Clarissa, her face turned to the window. “So late in the day. I wonder who it could be.”

  Dominick chuckled, looking down with affection into Clarissa’s unsuspecting face. What perfect timing—he could not have hoped for better. Though certainly not on the level of his work with the secret service, this bit of subterfuge had been infinitely more satisfying than any mission he could recall.

  “Why are you laughing?” She smiled. Then her eyes narrowed in playful suspicion. “Dominick! Do you know who it is?”

  They hadn’t made love in what felt like an epoch. Standing this close to her…smelling her floral perfume, mixed all up with her, he could hardly keep his thoughts straight. But he’d kept this secret for over a week. She wouldn’t pry it from him now, no matter how vividly blue her eyes were. No matter how enticing her pink lips.

  He shrugged, nonchalant. “Perhaps.”

  “Is it someone I know?” Her hands bunched in his shirt, atop his chest.

  “I can’t say for certain,” he said vaguely.

  “You do know.” She pinched his arm. “Tell me!”

  “I can’t. I promised,” he teased. “But perhaps you should…go downstairs to welcome them.”

  “Them?” Her eyes widened and her lips parted as, clearly, she considered the possibilities.

  She darted away—

  He caught her by the arm and pulled her back for a kiss—a fervent blur of soft lips and minted breath. His heart beat faster, as it always did when he kissed her, his vibrant, alluring wife. The woman he loved more deeply as each day passed. How could he have ever known her before and not loved her? She was such a part of him now, like the other half of his heart. Being without her seemed so unimaginable now.

  She stepped away.

  “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?” She held his hand in both of hers, and pulled him alongside her, cheeks flushed with excitement.

  He paused only a moment at the nursery door to rap on the wooden frame. “We’ve guests.”

  His mother bolted from her chair. “Stade, they’ve arrived. Hurry.”

  She grabbed hold of His Lordship’s elbow and tugged him up. Colin reached for Abigail, hoisting her into his arms.

  Dominick held Clarissa’s hand tightly as she descended the stairs, she always a step below him, concerned that she would take a tumble in her excitement, although he knew she was as sure-footed as he. Darthaven’s front doors were already open and the footmen outside. Below stood a large traveling carriage that bore a large gold ducal insignia on the door. Several occupants already were on the grass, having disembarked. Gusts of wind pitched their skirts and threatened to dislodge their hats.

  “Mother!” cried Clarissa.

  She rushed down the front steps and threw her arms around the woman who stood there, dressed in yellow. Dominick followed at a slower pace, watching the melee of feminine excitement that ensued. How quickly Clarissa had forgotten him, and for good reason—for the first time since Abigail’s birth, her mother had come for a visit, and this time, she had not come alone.

  “Sophia! Daphne!” Clarissa exclaimed, stunned by her family’s arrival. “Where’s Christian? And where’s Michael?”

  The duke and duchess’s son, Christian, was seven months older than her Abigail, and Michael, the oldest of the family children, was now nearly six years old.

  “They’re with Claxton and Raikes,” Daphne answered, kissing her sister’s cheek.

  “You left them behind?” Clarissa’s voice cracked with disappointment.

  “Of course not,” replied the smiling duchess as she moved past, headed straight for the children who had arrived in the arms of Colin and Lady Stade. “They’ll be along in a moment.”

  Daphne broke free of Clarissa’s embrace to follow her.

  Just then, a second and a third coach rumbled through the gates. Then a fourth.

  Clarissa leapt off the earth, clapping her hands.

  “Everyone’s here!” She seized her mother’s arm. “Is everyone here? Even Wolverton?”

  “Wolverton refused to stay behind. Otherwise, we’d have been here two days earlier. We’ve been traveling slowly to ensure his comfort,” her mother answered.

  Daphne returned with Samuel in her arms. “He’s beautiful, Clarissa.”

  Lady Margaretta peered down at the baby and touched his cheek. “Hello, Samuel. Oh, give him to his grandmother.”

  Tears welled in Clarissa’s eyes, and emotion tightened her throat. There had been dark days, not so long ago, when she couldn’t have imagined this happy moment. Her gaze found Dominick’s. He stood on the steps beside his family, his arms crossed over his chest, smiling at her.

  Sophia returned, with Abigail in her arms. “She’s not a baby anymore, is she? She’s a picture of you, Clarissa.”

  Daphne reached for the little girl’s hand and squeezed it affectionately, teasing “I think she looks more like me.”

  Lady Margaretta looked up from the baby in her arms, her eyes shining on her youngest daughter—and then on her son-in-law. “I’m so happy for you both.”

  “We are happy as well, Mother. So happy.” Clarissa joined arms with her mother and sisters—with Abigail and Samuel perched in the center—and for a moment they formed a circle. “I can’t believe you are all here. It’s a dream come true.”

  “Dreams do come true,” said Daphne.

  “And more will come true. Just wait and see.”

  The other coaches and their horses scrabbled to a stop behind the first.

  “Go see Wolverton,” her mother urged softly.

  Clarissa left their circle, pausing at the first carriage, waving through the windows at Claxton and Raikes and two little faces as they peered out. The third carriage, conveying servants who traveled with the family, moved around them and disappeared toward the back of the house.

  The gentlemen and two rather grumpy-faced children in rumpled clothes disembarked, and Clarissa exchanged kisses and greetings with all of them.

  “Is Wolverton there, inside?” she asked.

  “Yes, he is, and he’s waiting to see you,” replied Claxton.

  “In the meantime, I’ll get his chair.” Raikes set off toward the back of the carriage, but footmen, at Dominick’s direction, had already lowered the chair to the g
round. The two men shook hands.

  Clarissa climbed the steps into the carriage, where shadows and the scent of soap and tobacco met her. Wolverton sat on the bench, smartly dressed in a traveling suit. He leaned forward, reaching for her. “There you are, my granddaughter.”

  He framed her face in his hands and kissed her cheek.

  “I’m so happy that you’ve come, my lord,” she murmured.

  “These old bones don’t travel well anymore.” He let out a rusty chuckle. “I may decide never to leave.”

  A deeper voice answered from the door—Dominick stood there, peering inside. “You’re welcome to remain at Darthaven as long as you wish.”

  “Normally I don’t travel anymore, but I had to come to see you because I wanted to tell you myself.”

  “Tell us what?” answered Clarissa, taking a seat beside him.

  “Come,” he said, reaching for Dominick, who complied by entering and kneeling beside the earl.

  He held both of their hands, his face flushed with excitement. “We’re all free.”

  “Free?” said Clarissa.

  “St. Guerlain and his Black Violins. They are…no more. We and our children can all now live our lives as they should be led. Without fear. Without further harm.”

  “How did it happen?” asked Dominick, his gaze intense.

  “Well, that story will take quite a bit of telling. Perhaps tonight at dinner.” Wolverton smiled, his eyebrows raised. “Let me just say for now, we owe everything to Lords Havering and Haden and…others.” His smile broadened. “Such brave young men. They are the new lions of the empire, and England is greater for them.”

  Clarissa reached for Dominick’s hand. “Do I dare believe it?”

  Wolverton nodded. “Believe it, and know it would not have been possible if not for your own husband’s bravery in leading us all to the truth before it was too late.”

  Clarissa’s chest constricted, filled with love for Dominick.

  “I’m so proud of him,” she answered, looking between them.

  “As am I. Now give your grandfather a kiss for forcing you to marry him in the first place.” He grinned, his aged eyes crinkling at the corners, and tapped his cheek with his finger. “Aren’t I an astute judge of character?”