Shayla Black

by Strictly Seduction

  “Impossible,” Brock said. “Aimee was born nearly a year after I…” took your cousin’s innocence. He couldn’t say that. “After I left Ashdown Manor.”

  Still, Cropthorne heard the words he hadn’t spoken.

  “You ruined my cousin when you worked for Lord Avesbury?” Cropthorne thundered.

  Brock focused on Maddie, his head reeling. Aimee could not his be daughter. Maddie would have told him. She would have sent for him in London when she first realized—

  A tear splashed down her pale cheek, splattered onto her clenched hands below. Alarm staggered him. Had Roberta told the truth?

  “Confess, Madeline,” Roberta sneered, then looked at Cropthorne. “My brother could not father children—a terrible childhood fever my parents were told.”

  Lady Dudley hated Maddie. Surely this was a poison arrow designed to maim her former sister-in-law. Wasn’t it? With questions tumbling over one another in his head, Brock turned to Maddie. She had shock and horror written across her waxen face.

  Was there a chance that Roberta told the truth?

  Gaping, he whispered, “Maddie? Is she right?”

  Lady Dudley scoffed. “Why else would Colin marry a woman he knew to be with child?”

  Brock ignored the self-centered shrew and stared at Maddie. She didn’t speak, didn’t move. She only gazed at him with watery gray eyes. They swam in tears and guilt.

  Brock’s world shifted, tilted crazily, fell out beneath him.

  Aimee was his daughter.

  Dear God. Elation, fury, joy, and betrayal all rushed Brock at once. He struggled for a breath, then another. Comprehension eluded him. He was a father.

  Brock had felt a real fondness for the clever little Aimee the first time he met her. She’d made him laugh more than once.

  And Maddie had deprived him of knowing her for four years.

  He drilled her with a stony gaze, demanding she answer him now.

  She refused to meet his gaze.

  Instead, Maddie frowned at Roberta. “Colin never wanted Aimee. He hated her.”

  “Of course. He prayed every day you carried that little bastard girl that she would be a boy, but you disappointed him even then,” Roberta sneered.

  “He hated me for that?”

  “Stupid girl.” Roberta sighed in impatience. “You came to him pregnant and in need of a husband. Colin wed you, even as you refused to name Aimee’s father. He needed you to grant him a son! How else was he to have an heir?”

  Belwick speared Brock with a glance. “We only realized you must have been the one to compromise Lady Wolcott when I remembered the gossip that Lord Avesbury dismissed you without reference shortly before she married Sedgewick.”

  “Oh, dear God,” Maddie sobbed, shoulders shaking.

  “You’re certain Aimee is my daughter?” Brock asked Maddie directly. Somehow, he managed to keep his voice steady.

  Shocking, considering how desperately he wanted to rail at her for stealing the joy of his daughter from him.

  Maddie cast him a discomfited glance. Then she nodded. “I’m certain.”

  Brock stared down at Maddie, feeling as if his chest would split open from the pain. He cursed long and loud in earthy, streetwise oaths. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  “So you did ruin my innocent cousin.” Cropthorne’s voice boomed with warning. “Clearly, you’re not the gentleman I once thought.”

  Brock did not answer Cropthorne’s accusation. He could not. He could only stare at Maddie, her auburn hair brushing her slender neck as her back moved with the tears she shed.

  Tears that had come far too late as far as he was concerned.

  Lady Dudley screwed up her face in a moue of disgust.

  “What about Aimee’s birthday?” Brock snapped.

  “Colin paid the vicar to change Aimee birthday by six weeks. She was already two weeks late.” Maddie’s voice trembled. “I’m sorry. I had reasons—”

  “You always do.” Brock spat the words at her as he rose and crossed the room. “Just as you had reasons for not wedding me the first four times I asked. I think I understand perfectly now.”

  If she cared at all for him, if she believed in him… If he’d been a well-born rich man she would have told him immediately. He wouldn’t have lost all these years with Aimee. But no. Why did everything in his life always come back to this?

  Maddie’s eyes pleaded with him before she uttered a word. “No—”

  “And Colin paid the midwife to tell you that you would be unable to have more children,” Roberta chimed in. “Were you gullible enough to believe her?”

  If anything, Maddie turned whiter. She reached out to steady herself on the arm of the sofa.

  Reluctant concern tugged at Brock. She might have shattered his every illusion about her, his every hope that she would accept him someday, but he’d be damned if he would let a bitch like Lady Dudley kick Maddie.

  “Enough!” he roared.

  “My dear,” Belwick’s voice sounded as a pond iced over by winter. “Mr. Taylor is right. We are not here to bring harm to Lady Wolcott, but rather to save his grace from doing business with a man who possesses the kind of conscience that allows him to defile innocent girls.”

  Roberta lapsed into silence, but her expression refuted Belwick. She cared nothing for the railroad, but she hated Maddie.

  “Consider, your grace, that my railroad proposal is far more—”

  “Get out,” Cropthorne demanded in low, lethal tones. “And take Lady Dudley with you.”

  “But your grace, you can’t mean to continue doing business with a man of Taylor’s ilk. He—”

  “That does not mean I am in any hurry to do business with you. Goodbye.”

  Knowing he had been well and truly dismissed, Belwick crossed the room and took hold of Lady Dudley’s arm. Wearing a cloak of pride, despite his anger, Brock’s competitor left. Lady Dudley shot her sister-in-law a sneer as she exited.

  Maddie blanched, looking devastated. And why not? Her cousin knew her shame now, that Aimee had been conceived out of wedlock, sired by her own servant. And that wasn’t all. Brock realized that she might not love him, but she cared. He’d felt it. Damn it, he’d loved her, would have done anything to protect and make her happy. But if she hadn’t yet figured it out, he’d be happy to let her know that he had no intention of wasting another moment on a woman who could lie to him about his daughter.

  “Madeline, is all of this true?” Cropthorne demanded.

  “Yes.” She looked ready to break, but she managed to keep her voice steady.

  “Mr. Taylor,” Cropthorne snapped. “You took advantage of a young girl who clearly trusted you.”

  “We had plans to marry.”

  Cropthorne raised a black brow in disbelief. “Surely Avesbury did not condone the match.”

  Brock worked his jaw. Lord, he hated defending himself to everyone who thought they were better. He had done it his whole life. He would not do it tonight.

  “I had good intentions where Maddie was concerned, but I doubt I can convince you of that. I daresay no one cares that she’s played me false for years. It seems clear that you’ve decided I’m no gentleman. I’m sure you’re set to tell me that I am one of the most nefarious cads you’ve ever had the misfortune to do business with.”

  “Whatever else I might say about you, Mr. Taylor, I always knew you were bright. Consider my capital withdrawn from the railroad.”

  Dismay ploughed him flat. Brock had feared Cropthorne’s defection was coming, that Belwick had managed to kill the one project that would make his financial goals a reality. But the duke’s withdrawal still stunned him speechless. Damn Belwick and the vengeful Lady Dudley.

  Damn Maddie!

  “And know this,” Cropthorne leaned over his desk with a warning and a glare. “It is only my concern for Madeline’s reputation that keeps me from truly exposing you for the blackguard you are to the other investors. But I expect you to go quietly and never
see my cousin again.”

  Maddie gasped. “Gavin, no.”

  Brock wondered why Maddie would bother to protest their separation. Or had she seen all along how lovesick he had been and enjoyed the power she had over him? Did she assume that with a flash of her gray eyes and an intimate whisper that he would fall to his knees for her?

  He’d refrain—somehow. She need never know how much like torture it would be to abstain from touching her for the rest of their lives.

  “With pleasure,” he mocked, saluting Cropthorne.

  He couldn’t bring himself to look at Maddie, to know that the woman he loved—had never stopped loving in five hellish years—had betrayed him so deeply, so cruelly. And why? He could only imagine it was because she thought him too lowly to be worthy of sharing their child.

  As Brock left, he closed his eyes against the rush of rage, of pain, he feared would never leave him.

  #

  The following morning dawned crisp and overcast. People traveled the streets in their Sunday finest as they made their way to worship services.

  Maddie skipped church. She’d likely need prayer after talking to Brock.

  He would marry her once she told him the news; there was no question of that. Her predicament meant he could finally build his precious railroad. But what sort of marriage would they have?

  Last night, he had branded her with an accusing glare. She had deserved his censure. Now, her biggest fear was that she’d lost his tenderness and affection forever. That he’d look at her for the rest of his life with hate.

  But Brock wasn’t without blame. Last night, she had been too exhausted, too shocked and afraid, to defend herself from his cold stare. Today, she remembered his role in this fiasco. Today, she felt more prepared to face Mr. Taylor.

  When the hackney stopped before Brock’s townhouse, Maddie lowered the concealing veil on her mourning hat and paid the driver as she exited the vehicle. With a gray-toothed smile, he promised to await her return.

  Maddie doubted her conversation with Brock would last long.

  After a perfunctory knock, Brock’s butler, a stoic, brooding sort of man with bushy black brows, answered the door, revealing a lavish foyer of dark woods and fine china accents. Of course Brock would live well. He’d sacrificed everything—including her—for the privilege.

  The butler took her name and quickly returned. Within moments, the servant escorted her to a plush study where Brock sat behind a massive cherry wood desk, fingers steepled in front of him, his expression nothing less than adversarial.

  As Maddie entered the room, she lifted her veil. Their gazes clashed.

  His eyes still held blazing censure. Maddie straightened her spine against his anger.

  “Why are you here?” he demanded. “Unless it’s to schedule visits with my daughter, get out.”

  Maddie sent him a frosty glare. “I’ve come to accept your proposal of marriage.”

  Brock laughed bitterly, wearing a superior gaze that made her teeth gnash. “Have you? Is that how you mean to atone for keeping Aimee a secret?”

  “Not at all. I am with child.”

  The smirk slid off his face as his mouth dropped open. Dark brows slashed down as he stood, shoulders tense, gaze unwavering. “You’re pregnant?”

  “I believe I just mentioned that, yes.”

  With that remark, he scowled at her. Maddie supposed that he didn’t like her flippant tone. Too bad for him.

  “You’re certain?”

  “I can think of no other ailment that would cause me to miss my menses and send my stomach into general turmoil.”

  Brock banged his fist on his desk, then drilled his irate gaze on her. “At least you decided to tell me this time, rather than wait until a few months before the child’s fifth birthday. That’s an improvement, I suppose.”

  Did he imagine he had been the only one wronged? He, who had promised her marriage, took her innocence, and her father’s money, before disappearing for five years? He, who had reentered her life with a brash attitude and a threat?

  The anger Maddie had collected into an icy pool of reserve before coming melted. Despite her wishes, she felt her temper heat, then boil over.

  “Forget I said anything. You can go…fuck yourself,” she shouted. “Don’t ever come near me again!”

  As she turned to leave, Brock surged to his feet and caught her arm, turning her to face him again, eyes spitting fire. “Too late for that. Clearly, we are having this conversation because I fucked you instead.”

  Feeling his words like a verbal slap, Maddie clenched her teeth to keep in a scream. Given his response to the news of this pregnancy, it hardly signified that she hadn’t known how to reach Brock in London five years ago. Would he have cared that she’d been with child then?

  Gathering her reserve around her once more, she spat, “Are we to be married, yes or no?”

  He hesitated, glaring, reluctant. “Yes.”

  She gave him a crisp nod, both relieved and dreading the future. “Can you procure a special license by Wednesday or Thursday?”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “I will have it and a minister here by Tuesday morning.”

  “Shall I be here at ten o’clock, then?”

  “Yes, and bring Aimee,” he barked.

  His tone chafed her, but Maddie merely shrugged. “Until then.”

  As she poised to make her exit once more, Brock again grasped her arm and pulled her back to him, this time closer, so close, she felt the angry heat pulsing off of him in waves.

  “Now that our marital matter is settled, you can explain why the hell you kept Aimee a secret from me. I deserved to know!”

  “Did you?” She jerked her arm free of his hold. “You did nothing more than impregnate me before abandoning me. You accepted money from my father to leave me minutes after you took my innocence. Then you came back into my life, only to threaten me and your daughter with the Fleet. I did what I had to in order to protect her.”

  He cursed. “Did you ever consider that Aimee is my flesh and blood and that I should know of her existence? Had you planned on ever telling me? If Belwick and Lady Dudley hadn’t spilled your secret, I’ll wager you would have married me for the sake of the coming child and taken the truth to your grave.” He leaned in, aggressive, furious, voice rising. “You might have mentioned Aimee’s parentage to me recently, say at the Paddington cottage. Somewhere between ‘good evening’ and the moments I had my cock buried deep inside you—any of those moments would have sufficed.”

  Maddie refused to give him the satisfaction of flinching. “And tell you so that you could use your money to take Aimee from me or use her against me?” She shook her head. “Believe me, if I hadn’t foolishly believed Colin’s midwife when she swore I could bear no more children, I would not be marrying you now.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  At one o’clock on Monday afternoon, Brock made his way to Cropthorne’s townhouse. It was imposing, formal, stately. It matched the man.

  While he did not imagine Cropthorne would approve of the fact he had taken Maddie’s innocence five years ago, Brock had never imagined the duke would so thoroughly denounce him. Clearly, the reserve Cropthorne exhibited went deep to his traditional core.

  Perhaps the duke would be pacified by the fact he and Maddie would be married tomorrow. But Brock did not feel assured of that by any means. Hell, his own father, who had known his past with Maddie, had been completely stunned by the news of Aimee’s parentage.

  Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the solid door and gave his name to the butler. Cropthorne likely wouldn’t see him. Still, Brock knew he must try. Though he might be able to acquire adequate funding to begin the T & S without the man, it seemed unlikely. People would ask questions about the duke’s sudden departure from the project. But Cropthorne was one of the last bits of family Maddie had left; she would want him at the wedding.

  Any reconciliation he could affect would benefit everyone.

  To Brock�
�s surprise, the butler returned, stoic as ever, and led him directly to the duke’s study.

  Cropthorne stood by the far window, sunlight at his back. The disapproving scowl he had worn Saturday night had not left his face. Brock braced himself to take the blame for Maddie’s fall from innocence in the barn years ago. He deserved it, really. He’d been twenty-one, Maddie a mere seventeen. But the day Aimee had been conceived, he had only thought to seal the special bond he’d believed he and Maddie shared. Yes, he’d understood the possibilities. He simply had not believed they would come to fruition.

  He was furious with Maddie for all the years he had lost with Aimee, for marrying Sedgewick without saying a word to him.

  Brock sighed as Cropthorne glared at him across the room. “Your grace.”

  “I should have refused you,” Cropthorne said. “I will not tolerate any hint of scandal. If the truth makes its way to the ton, you’ll both be ruined. And Aimee will be forever tainted.”

  “I want to avoid that at all costs.” Brock pulled on the lapels of his coat and straightened his shoulders. “Maddie and I will marry tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. I think it would please her, as well as lend credence, if you attended.”

  Cropthorne hesitated, mulling over his options. “It will be a quiet wedding?”

  Though the duke’s reply came as a question, Brock understood he meant it as a command. He agreed his marriage to Maddie would raise less notice if they wed with a few witnesses and an even smaller party. Perhaps only a handful of people would make note of the event. Doubtful, but he could hope...

  “Only her aunt, Mrs. Bickham’s companion, and my father will attend.”

  “I will be there,” Cropthorne said finally. “You understand I’m hardly eager to welcome you into the family. I do not regard you as trustworthy, Mr. Taylor.”

  How should he answer that? He hated like hell having to explain himself to “his betters,” to always justify his actions, his very existence. But the railroad was too important. Any chance—no matter how remote—of Cropthorne returning as his partner was too valuable to lose because of anger and pride.