“Robin, my beloved son.”
The air suddenly seemed sucked from the room. Robin had been Devon’s father.
Dr. Partridge frowned. Devon appeared stricken. “Not Robin, Grandfather. It’s Devon, his son.”
“Aye, Devon.” The smile faded from Lord Kirkeby’s face. “You have changed. You look the very image of your father.”
“I am about his age when he died.”
“Yes, Robin is dead,” Lord Kirkeby repeated as if remembering.
Suddenly, Devon reached across the bedspread to clasp his grandfather’s hand. “I’m sorry, Grandfather. I’m sorry I wasn’t more of what you wanted me to be.”
The raw pain and emotion in her husband’s voice alarmed Leah. She had not realized this was inside her confident, carefree Devon. She stepped forward, needing to touch him, to reassure him.
Lord Kirkeby shook his head. “Not…your…fault,” he said wearily. “I…shouldn’t…have…kept…secrets.”
Devon lowered his head. “I was too full of pride.”
Again, there was a flash of intelligence, of a will to live in his grandfather’s eyes. “I was too.” He paused and then said, “I missed you.”
“I would have come at any time. You had only to send for me.”
“Couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t?” Devon asked.
“Wouldn’t,” his grandfather answered. He squeezed Devon’s hand. “Arrie told me I was a fool.” He spoke with difficulty, his voice raspy, weak. “She said I should have called you back years ago, but I didn’t listen to her. She said I’d be sorry.” He drew a deep, labored breath. “The truth…I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I would have. I should have. In fact, I should have been the one to breach the gap between us.”
Lord Kirkeby shushed him with a wave of his hand. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“But it does,” Devon said. A tear escaped from the corner of his eye.
That single tear moved Leah. It explained more than words what Devon was feeling. A sense of protectiveness rose inside her. Shifting Ben’s weight to one arm, she placed her hand on Devon’s shoulder.
Her movement brought her to Lord Kirkeby’s attention. “Who is this?” he asked.
“My wife.” This time when Devon said those words, they were softer, kinder than when he’d made the same announcement to his aunt.
“You’ve married?” Lord Kirkeby turned his head to take a full, good look at Leah.
“Yes,” Devon responded almost defensively.
His grandfather weakly waved a finger. “I did not mean it that way, Huxhold. I am surprised. I had thought you incapable of settling on just one.”
He’d said the words in jest and, again, there was a glimmer of the man he had once been. “Come closer, girl. Let me see you.”
Leah handed the baby to Devon and dutifully leaned over the bed.
“Lovely,” Lord Kirkeby said admiringly. “What is your name, girl?”
“Leah.” She deliberately left off the Carrollton.
“Huxhold favors blondes. What spell did you weave to capture his notice? I’ve had women ask me that question for years.”
She smiled at his humor and, alluding to their meeting by the pigpen, said, “My lord, the truth is that Devon knocked me off my feet.”
Her words surprised a chuckle out of Devon. “I have something else to show you, Grandfather.” He laid Ben down on the bed and unfolded the fleece blanket.
“What is it?” Lord Kirkeby asked tiredly, staring up at the bed canopy.
“A baby.” Devon said the words as if he were revealing the miracle of the ages.
“A baby?” Lord Kirkeby rolled his head in Devon’s direction. “You, Devon? Boy or girl?” He sounded almost desperate for the answer.
“Boy.”
With an energy Leah had not thought he possessed, Lord Kirkeby’s face broke into a wreath of smiles. “A boy,” he whispered. Devon nodded.
Something was being communicated between the grandfather and his grandson. Something Leah did not understand.
Lord Kirkeby tried to sit up, the better to see Ben. Both Devon and Dr. Partridge came to his aid, the doctor plumping pillows behind him. “Did you hear that, Partridge?” Lord Kirkeby asked, his voice growing more animated and strong. “Is it possible? Could it be?”
“Anything is possible,” Dr. Partridge said. “We thought at the time that we didn’t know for sure.”
“Let me see the baby,” Lord Kirkeby ordered gruffly. “Hold him up.”
Leah’s every instinct warned her to snatch her baby back, but Devon sat on the bed, blocking her access to Ben. Gently, he raised Ben up for his grandfather to see, holding him under his arms.
Ben was awake. He looked around with a newborn’s distracted air. His bare feet dangled helplessly beneath the hem of his baby dress.
Lord Kirkeby raised his head. He reached out and carefully placed his aged hand on top of Ben’s head. “He has a full head of hair, just like you did. In fact, he is the very image of you.”
Devon replied, “His name is Benjamin. Benjamin Marshall.”
Lord Kirkeby smiled with fierce pride. “Benjamin.” He dropped his hand to the mattress. His gaze met Devon’s. “They were wrong. They were all wrong.”
“Yes.” Devon cradled Ben in his arms.
Lord Kirkeby chuckled. It appeared to Leah that he was growing stronger by the minute even as she was feeling more and more uneasy.
“Rex will not be happy,” Lord Kirkeby said.
“Aunt Venetia will be even more upset,” Devon responded.
“Yes, she will.” Lord Kirkeby relaxed his head back on the pillow. Tears came to his eyes. “But I am pleased. Well pleased. All this time wasted,” he added sadly.
“No, not wasted,” Devon countered, cradling Ben in his arms. “I had to become a man and I have, Grandfather. You will never be disappointed in me again. I promise.”
“I can’t be disappointed. You have brought me your son. It is the best gift I could have ever received.” His voice was starting to fade now. Dr. Partridge hovered over him, but he shooed the physician back. “My Arrie said, in the end, our pride shouldn’t matter when it comes to family.” Suddenly, his face collapsed into lines of pain. He turned his gaze to Leah. “Do you love your wife, Devon?” He didn’t wait for an answer but confided, “I didn’t love mine. I didn’t know what love was until I loved Arrie, and now she is gone. It hurts here.” He touched his heart with a weak fist.
Leah was humbled by the man’s pain. Her parents loved each other that much. She understood what the depths of that type of love were.
Ben broke the moment by crying. It was almost time for his dinner, and he’d been patient long enough.
Lord Kirkeby raised his eyebrows. “He has a healthy set of lungs.”
“He’s very strong,” Devon assured him as Ben’s hunger cries gained momentum.
His grandfather chuckled, pleased with the information.
The door to the bedroom burst open.
Lady Vainhope charged in, Rex and Mr. Brewster following.
“What is that crying? Father!” she declared dramatically. “What has he done to you?”
Devon stood, Ben screaming with newborn anger in his arms. “Everything is fine, Venetia.”
His aunt skidded to a stop. She frowned at Ben as if he were the devil incarnate. “Whose baby is this?”
“Devon’s son,” Lord Kirkeby said decisively.
“Son?” The color drained from Lady Vainhope’s face. “It can’t be.”
“Not here, Aunt Venetia,” Devon said tightly.
“Why not here?” she demanded, her voice shrill. She whirled to face her father. “Do you know whom he has married?” she demanded in ringing tones. “I didn’t recognize the face at first, but once I heard the name—”
“Aunt Venetia,” Devon warned.
“Yes, Lady Vainhope,” Dr. Partridge hurried to add. “This is not the time. Lord Kirkeby needs his
rest.”
But the marquess was having none of that. He actually sat up. “I don’t care who she is—” he started, his eyes brightening with anger.
“She’s a Carrollton!” Venetia practically spit Leah’s family name into the air.
“She doesn’t matter,” Lord Kirkeby said. “This child is my grandson. He is a direct descendent of myself and Robin.”
“But, Father, it is impossible! Devon can’t have children. You know he can’t.”
Leah turned to Devon. His face could have been carved from stone. She reached for Ben with the same fierceness of a she-wolf protecting her cub. Devon readily gave him up, his attention on his grandfather.
“Why do you believe he can’t?” Lord Kirkeby challenged his daughter. “Because you don’t wish him to? Well, he has.” He pointed a gnarled finger in Ben’s direction. “I know my blood. That child is Robin’s grandson.”
Lady Vainhope immediately denied the possibility. Dr. Partridge started in about how no one knew for sure that Devon couldn’t sire children. It had all been speculation, according to him. Rex appeared stunned, and Leah realized that Devon’s claim that Ben was his natural child had changed Rex’s prospects.
Slowly, she turned to face Devon. Their gazes met. He had not told her. He had known he couldn’t have children but had deliberately neglected to tell her everything.
She ran from the room, holding her child close.
CHAPTER 12
Leah was out into the hallway and past the footman before Devon caught her.
His hand hooked her arm. “Don’t say anything. Not one word,” he ordered quietly.
They had an audience. Rex and Mr. Brewster had followed Devon out. They and the footman stared with obvious interest. Leah could hear Lady Vainhope haranguing her father, her concerns over her son’s lost inheritance evident. Dr. Partridge repeatedly asked her to consider her father’s welfare and to leave. She ignored him.
Adding to the confusion was Ben’s demanding cry.
At that moment, a robust woman dressed in the Kirkeby green and gold stepped out of a room down the hallway. “Lord Huxhold,” she greeted him merrily. “I have your rooms prepared.”
“You are wonderful, Mrs. Knowles,” Devon responded, moving his hand to the small of Leah’s back and pushing her in the woman’s direction. “My son claims to be starved to death.”
My son. Before when he’d said it, Leah had been thrilled. Now, it sounded ominous.
Mrs. Knowles chuckled. “Aye, my lord, those little ones can’t wait. Come in here, my lady, and have the chance to wipe the dust of travel from your feet.”
As Devon directed Leah into the bedroom, away from too observant eyes, he introduced Mrs. Knowles as the housekeeper.
“Anything you wish, my lady, you have only to ask. The staff is pleased beyond measure that Lord Huxhold has taken himself a wife.” If she thought it odd the wife should appear without any fanfare, she didn’t relay her concerns in words or deed.
Leah slipped gratefully through the door and into a lovely room, decorated in shades of gold and cream. A cheery fire burned in the hearth, and several oil lamps had been lit to dispel the late afternoon gloom. Vases of hothouse flowers graced side tables and the mantel.
“The nursery is through here,” Mrs. Knowles said, opening the door on a charmingly peaceful room with white curtains and sky blue walls.
“Let me see to Ben,” Leah murmured and hurried into the nursery without waiting for a response from Devon. She shut the door, thankful for the privacy. She needed a chance to frame her thoughts. Devon’s claim had caught her completely by surprise. One part of her was furious, and another, confused.
On the other side of the door, she could hear him talking to Mrs. Knowles. They spoke of pleasantries until she asked after his luggage. Leah listened as he spun a tale of their both being in Scotland when the summons had arrived to return to London. His story sounded so plausible that Leah could almost believe it.
Just as she’d believed Draycutt had cared for her. Or that Devon would not let harm come to her brother.
She closed her eyes. Had she once again been taken in by another charming rogue? Even after Ben finished and nodded off, she sat still, reeling from how easily Devon had told his lies.
The door had closed behind Mrs. Knowles some time ago. Leah knew she could not hide forever.
Carefully, she laid Ben in the elaborately carved crib. Animals created out of inlaid wood danced around its base. It must have been in the family for generations. She took a moment to steady the angry beat of her heart and then opened the door.
Devon waited on the bed, one booted leg dangling over the footboard.
She stood in the doorway, unable to take another step closer. “Why did you marry me?”
His expression grew guarded. “You know why.”
“Remind me.”
He considered her for a moment before saying, “To take care of Ben.”
A jab of disillusionment knifed through her. Last night, she had begun to hope there was something more, that what had once been between them could be again. She’d been played a fool. “Or to claim him as your own?” she accused coolly.
Devon’s jaw hardened. “You heard Dr. Partridge. No one knows for certain that I can’t sire children.”
“I heard Dr. Partridge say what he said because he believes Ben is yours. And you want them to believe that, don’t you?”
“How could I not?” he demanded, swinging his leg around so that he could stand. “My grandfather is dying, Leah. He’s only wanted one thing in life from me. I gave it to him.”
“But why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t have children? Why did you make a point of saying that Ben could not inherit—and then claim him as your own blood in front of your family?”
“He can’t inherit. When the bloodlines are searched in Parliament, it would be challenged.” He raked his hand through his hair in frustration. “Don’t you understand, Leah? I didn’t know those words were going to come from my mouth until I said them. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. I’ll confess the truth, but not until Grandfather—” He stopped, unable to voice the word dies. He looked away from her, his expression solemn.
“Your aunt is so angry. She frightens me.”
“Don’t worry about her.”
“Don’t worry?” She took a step into the room. “Devon, she is known for her spiteful temper. She has ruined people.”
“Then think how delighted she will be when she learns the truth.”
Leah gave him a sharp glance. “You would tell her?”
“Eventually.” He frowned, suddenly restless, his gaze shifting from her. A liquor cabinet sat next to the fireplace. He walked over to it and pulled out a decanter of wine. “I’m going to have a glass of this. Would you like one?”
“No,” she answered impatiently as he poured wine into a crystal glass. “When are you going to tell her?”
The look he shot her spoke louder than words. He didn’t like to be pushed. She didn’t care. Her son’s well-being was at stake.
“I’ll tell her when I can safely assume Grandfather won’t discover the truth.” He drained the glass and started to pour himself another. “She’ll be overjoyed. There’s only one thing Venetia has wanted in life and that is the title.”
“But she’s a woman. She could never have the title.”
“Venetia doesn’t see herself as a mere woman,” Devon answered. “In fact, she resented my father because he could have it. She felt him unworthy, and if the truth were known, she probably was more responsible than he was. I remind her too much of my father and my flighty mother. That’s how she always refers to her—‘flighty.’ It’s one of the many grudges my aunt holds against me. That and the fact that I stand in the way of her son’s opportunity to claim the title. Her one consolation is that her son and her grandsons will be the future marquess of Kirkeby.”
“Except now she believes Ben stands in her way,” Leah reminded him softly.
<
br /> “Don’t worry about it, Leah. You are now a Marshall. You are free to join our favorite pastime of deceiving each other through trick or roguery. The prize is the Kirkeby fortune. Or whatever you can milk out of Grandfather by catering to his whims.”
“Or by telling him what he wants to hear,” she added quietly.
“No,” Devon said soberly. “I wouldn’t use Ben in that manner.”
“How do I know?”
He swore softly. “Leah, I was the one in the family who always refused to play the games.”
“And yet you wish a reconciliation.”
“I do.” His eyes snapped with anger. “I swear, you could interrogate a saint and find him lacking, and I’m no saint. My grandfather is my only family who matters to me. He’s the living representation of my father. Do you think Grandfather is the only one who misses my parents?”
He turned from her as if needing a moment. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with emotion. “I’ve been alone since their accident. I don’t blame my grandfather. He’s no different than other men of his age. He was trained to think of title and family duty first. You heard him. He admits freely he never knew what love was. Certainly he’s never shown me any. But my parents did. I was seven when they died, old enough to remember. Is it wrong to want for Ben all the security a boy needs in life?”
His question tore into her soul. All her life, she’d lived with the tragic results of that fateful accident. It had destroyed her father…but she had never thought of what it had meant to Devon.
He set the empty wine glass on the mantel. “After my parents died, he doted on me. He took me everywhere with him. Then I came down with the fever, and I almost lost my life. Dr. Partridge brought in a specialist who examined me. They knew at that time that I would recover, but the fear was that the fever would have lasting effects. When my grandfather heard that I might not be able to sire children he said I might as well be dead.”
“No,” Leah murmured softly.
“He said it right in front of me.” Devon shook his head. “I understand why Venetia is the way she is. Grandfather dismissed her talent and her intelligence. She was a non-person, good for only one thing, breeding children. Then overnight, I became a non-person, too. I was no longer the favored heir. Rex was. Rex was the Marshalls’ future, and Grandfather set about preparing him for the role. He arranged Rex’s marriage, and the day Rex’s son was born, Grandfather was visibly relieved.”
A Scandalous Marriage Page 15