Slowly, carefully, her mother set her teacup on the saucer, the bone china making only a hint of noise, and set the saucer on the table. “You are ranting, dear, but I am grateful to see you finally have had the good sense to return home.”
She took a step forward, her skirt touching the edge of the table. “I want to know to whom you gave it.”
“Do you need to spend some more time in the madhouse until these delusions go away?”
“You no longer have any control over me, Mother.”
“Don’t be absurd. You are five and twenty, not yet wed, with no means to support yourself. Of course I retain control.”
“I do have means.” The words empowered her, made her feel stronger. “Did you not notice my new frock? You certainly didn’t purchase it for me.”
“I daresay, it is rather obvious it did not come from Paris.”
“Wait, wait,” Neville said, stepping nearer to their mother in order to meet Lavinia’s gaze more squarely. “Lavinia, are you implying here that you gave birth—”
“Yes, Neville. When I was eighteen.”
“How did I not know of this circumstance?”
“Because your father kept you occupied,” the countess said with a sniff. “We didn’t need you blabbing to Thornley that your sister had gotten herself into such an unconscionable situation, with a commoner of all people.”
Her brother dropped down onto the edge of the sofa cushion near where their mother sat, his mouth agape, and she recalled Sister Theresa’s words about looking like a fish. She found strength in that as well, remembering that she had someplace else she could go if need be. Neville blinked, blinked, looked around the room as though struggling to recall how he had come to be there. “You had a child?” he repeated. “You were going to marry Thornley, but you weren’t . . .”
He seemed at a loss for words. She, however, was not. “A virgin? Untouched? No, I was not.”
“And as Thornley had the poor judgment to marry someone with questionable origins, we shall now have to find someone else for you to wed. Perhaps the Duke of—”
She interrupted the countess. “I’m not here for marriage. I want to know about my child. Was it a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t recall.”
“How could you forget something like that, Mother?” Neville asked, giving Lavinia a glimmer of hope that perhaps her brother would side with her on this.
“A boy or a girl?” she repeated.
Her mother merely glared.
“To whom did you give it?”
“A servant. However, he is no longer employed here.”
“What was his name?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Was he to take it to a baby farmer?”
“He was. For putting away.”
She slammed her eyes closed as the reality and the pain she’d been holding at bay ripped through her. She’d learned that putting away was code for killing. Opening her eyes, she stared at the horrid woman sitting on the sofa as though she were innocent of heinous actions. “It was your grandchild.”
“It was not. It was a bastard. Born in shame, born in sin. A nonperson.”
“How could you have it killed?”
“Killed?” Neville came up off the couch as though it had suddenly caught fire and backed away. “You had it killed?”
“It was necessary in order to protect her and you, your position, to ensure it did not return to haunt us. Look at the Duke of Hedley. His bastard lived and is now married to his ward, of all people. The scandal of it. If people learned of what Lavinia had done, the trouble she’d gotten herself into, it could have ruined your prospects for a good marriage as well. I did what needed to be done for your heritage and legacy. Your father not only agreed but wholeheartedly approved.”
Shaking his head, Neville looked at Lavinia. “I feel like such a fool. I had no earthly idea you’d gone through all this. What a wretched brother I’ve been.”
She had been a fool as well for holding out hope her mother was not the monster she’d come to suspect she was.
“I’m glad,” her mother said. “I’m glad we are rid of it.”
Lavinia was barely aware of launching herself at the hideous crone. The slap she’d delivered to her mother years earlier was nothing compared to the one she now delivered with such force it sent the woman flying off the sofa.
Having spent his early years on the streets, Robin had a keen sense when it came to trouble being afoot, so as he neared the kitchens in anticipation of enjoying a warm biscuit, he was acutely aware of the weight of unnatural silence in the hallways leading to his destination. Slowing his step, rising up on his toes, he crept toward the doorway where the aromas of beef juices and oranges wafted out.
Peering inside, he barely made out a dining hall—for the servants, he supposed—those within standing at the table or against the wall, none of them moving, not even appearing to be breathing, their eyes wide and unblinking, their mouths slightly agape. Not that he blamed them. He was familiar with the sight of barely leashed retribution waiting to pounce, and Finn Trewlove wore it as easily as any other man might trousers.
“I find it difficult to believe that not a single one of you knows anything about a child born in this residence and taken out into the night seven years ago. I know damned well the countess herself didn’t deliver the babe to a baby farmer, so to which of you did she hand it off in order to see the deed done without getting her own hands dirty?”
If at all possible, the silence increased. Robin thought if one of them whispered it would sound like a shout in the deafening hush.
“Sir, if I might so bold,” began a man he recognized as the butler who had greeted him and Miss Kent when they’d first arrived, “the ladies of this residence are above reproach. I believe you’re barking up the wrong tree, sir.”
“Servants know everything that happens above the stairs, even if they pretend to be ignorant of it. Which one of you is Miriam?” Finn asked, not deigning to even acknowledge the older man.
A young woman with red hair hesitantly raised her hand, wiggling her trembling fingers. “I am, sir.”
“The lady’s maid? The one who betrayed her?”
“No, sir. I would never—”
“Yet you did. What became of the child?”
The woman glanced around. “Please, sir, not here, not in front of everyone.”
“The rest of you, out!” he bellowed.
The remainder of the servants scrambled hastily out of the doorway as though fleeing a fire, causing Robin to have to press himself against the wall to avoid being trampled. While he considered traipsing after them to ensure his own safety and to nick a biscuit, his curiosity was too great, and so he stayed.
Finn had come in through the servants’ entrance and immediately taken control of the situation, the staff, and the area below the stairs. After gathering the servants into the room where they shared meals, he demanded to know what they knew of Lady Lavinia’s child. Perhaps he should have done more to protect her reputation, but he was beyond caring about that and suspected she was as well. Something greater was at stake.
Yet the servants had remained mute, and he didn’t know if it was out of ignorance or loyalty to the family, to the girl who had once lived here.
He would put the maid who now stood before him as being close in age to Vivi. “You told the earl that his daughter planned to run off.”
She gave a brisk nod. “She was deserving of better than a commoner.”
Although he wondered if it was her own position she’d been more concerned with. Certainly, Vivi would have taken her maidservant with her to the duke’s residence, elevating her status among the help. Lady’s maid to a duchess was a much loftier title than maid to a commoner’s wife. Not that he’d have been able to afford her at the time.
“What do you know of the child’s fate?”
“Nothing at all. Her ladyship’s mother took it from the bedchamber, and that is the last I saw of it.
”
“You don’t know to whom she gave it?”
The woman shook her head. “But you’re quite right. She would have given it to someone, a footman most likely. I haven’t a clue regarding which one. Is Lady Lavinia safe? Is my lady well?”
“Crikey, she’s here,” a young voice said.
Finn swung around to find Robin standing in the doorway. “What the devil are you doing lurking about?”
“The lady brung me. I can show you where she is.”
The thought of Vivi in this house without him, how they might hurt her or try to lock her away again, had him trembling. “Take me to her.”
Only when they got to the library, it was empty.
“They were here,” Robin said. “Her and her brother. He paid me five hundred quid.”
He slammed his eyes closed. Of course Vivi would ensure someone benefitted from that scandalous reward. “Help me find her,” he ordered, and Robin didn’t hesitate to rush out of the room with him and begin peering in others.
Finally, they found her in a bright yellow room, standing over a woman sprawled on the floor, a hand pressed to her jaw, looking up in fear. He assumed it was her mother. Her brother stood nearby, staring at the tableau as though he were lost, trying to discern what action he should take. Finn placed his hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Wait for us on the front steps.”
With a nod, the lad dashed off, and Lavinia swung around, whether because she’d heard his words or the boy’s footsteps, he didn’t know, didn’t care. The sorrow woven into her features nearly brought him to his knees.
“She had it killed.”
The rage and fury that swept through him carried him to her, would have carried him beyond her to the self-righteous bitch who lay there glaring—if his first concern wasn’t Vivi. He took her in his arms, pressed her face against his chest.
“Come along,” Finn said, his voice low, surprised he was able to make it sound tender when he spoke to Vivi as grief and torment swirled through him. For the loss of a child he’d never known, to the suffering brought upon the woman he loved. “Let’s go.”
Straightening, dashing the tears from her cheeks, she gave him a tremulous smile and a nod.
The countess pushed herself to her feet then and stood there with fury blazing in her eyes. “You will not take my daughter anywhere.”
“Take?” he repeated. “As though she is a possession to be carried about in my pocket? No, I will not take her, but if she chooses to come with me, not you, not a horde of servants or constables or the dogs from hell will be enough to stop me from allowing her to leave with me.”
“Lavinia, think hard on this because if you leave with this scoundrel, I will never again welcome you back into this residence.”
“You heartless bitch, I don’t want to be welcomed back into your residence. You took my child. You sent me to a madhouse. You made me feel ashamed when all I did was fall in love. Then when I was still vulnerable, you laid Father’s death on me, in an attempt to bend me to your will. And I bent. But no longer. Father didn’t die because of my sins. But our child died because of yours. You saw to it that it was murdered. An innocent babe who had done you no harm. You’re a horrid, hateful woman. I am done with you.”
She separated herself from Finn, and with her spine straight, her shoulders squared, she walked from the room with grace and dignity. He’d never loved her more.
He glanced back at the hideous creature. “May you rot in hell.”
“My daughter will join me there for her sins.”
“It is not a sin to love.” And with that, he strode from the room, quickening his pace once he entered the hallway, until he caught up with Vivi, slipped his arm around her waist, and brought her up protectively against his side. “I’m so sorry, my love.”
“I never want to see her again.”
“You shall never have to.”
“I’d have never believed her to be so cruel.”
“Wealth, power, and prestige are not indications of kindness.”
Tilting her head up to hold his gaze, she furrowed her brow. “How did you know I was here? My note didn’t tell you where I was going.”
“I didn’t know you were here. Nor did I see your note. I came to speak with the servants, to see if I could learn anything from them before confronting your mother and brother.”
“Poor Neville. I fear this morning was a rather unfortunate revelation for him. Somehow they managed to keep everything from him.”
They had just reached the foyer when he heard, “Lavinia?”
Stopping, they turned and faced her brother as he scurried from the hallway. “Lavinia, I hardly know what to say,” he said as he halted before them.
“I think the countess said it all.”
He looked at Finn, gave a slight nod. “Trewlove. We don’t seem to meet under the best of circumstances.” He turned his attention back to Vivi. “I knew there had been a boy in your youth. It was he, I assume.”
“Yes. It’s a long story.”
“Perhaps you’ll share it sometime. Meanwhile, I want you to know I cannot condone what Mother did. I shall be moving her into the dower house posthaste as I cannot inflict her upon my wife, my heir, or any future children.”
“Your relationship with her is your business, not mine.”
He nodded, darting a glance between Finn and Vivi. “I need you to be aware of the status of your dowry.”
“Neville, that dowry will pass on to your daughter as I’m not going to marry some duke—”
“Hear me out.”
She gave him an acquiescing nod.
“As you are well aware, the property of Wood’s End was placed in a trust to be used as a dowry for the first daughter of an Earl of Collinsworth who married. I’ve spent considerable time reviewing the terms of the trust and speaking with my solicitor because I had hoped to find a way to sell it to Thornley. It buttresses up against his ancestral estate, and you know how desperately he wanted it.”
“Enough to marry a woman he didn’t love.”
“I think he’d have come to love you eventually.” He waved his hand. “But that is neither here nor there now. What is important is that the dowry remains in a trust as it was intended. In spite of everything, and I don’t blame you in the least for hating us all at this moment—”
Reaching out, she touched his arm. “I don’t hate you.”
“I am still struggling with my ignorance on the matter. Had I paid more attention—”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference.”
“You’re kind to say so, but it will be a while before I can accept that. However, I digress. Should you marry, the trust dissolves and the land passes over to your husband. At which point, you—he—could sell it. I know for a fact that Thornley will pay a princely sum for it. It might be enough to see you nicely situated in whatever life you choose. I wish I could offer you more, but I will help where I can.”
“I told the countess true. I can make my own way.”
“I completely understand your wish to never see her again, but I do hope you will consider not making yourself too scarce when it comes to me and my family.”
Finn watched as she hugged her brother. “Thank you, Neville.”
When she stepped out of his embrace, the earl looked at Finn. “You will take care of her.”
“It will be my pleasure to do so.”
“I’m sorry there was not more welcome news.”
“Goodbye,” she said quietly, and he knew she wasn’t yet ready to contemplate all of the unwelcomed news.
They turned for the door.
“Oh, wait,” Collinsworth called out. “How did you get here?”
Vivi looked at Finn, then the earl. “A hansom.”
“I rode my horse,” Finn told him.
“Let me have a carriage brought around. It’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you,” Finn said, thinking her brother wasn’t such a bad fellow after all as he escorted Vivi out of
the manor.
Robin popped up from where he’d been sitting on the steps and dusted some crumbs from his jacket.
“The cook gave you your biscuit, did she?” Vivi asked, and Finn heard the slight lifting of her mood in her voice. He also realized that’s what had brought Robin to the kitchens when he’d been speaking with the servants.
“It was jolly good, miss. Should I fetch us a hansom?”
“No, the earl is sending his carriage around for us.”
They waited in silence, there on the portico, with Finn’s arm around her holding her close. It seemed there was too much to say, and yet not a single word was adequate for what either of them was feeling. He couldn’t help but believe that her grief ran deeper than his. She’d had nine months with the child, feeling it growing inside her, seven years of hoping it was alive, while he’d only just come to know of its existence.
And then had it snatched away.
It wasn’t until they were in the carriage, his horse tethered at the back following along, with Robin across from them, and Finn sitting beside her, his arm around her, tucking her in close, that she burrowed against his chest, clutching his lapel with one hand, and let the sorrow have its way with her.
“I’m sorry,” she rasped, and he didn’t know if she was apologizing for all that had happened or that she no longer had the strength to hold the grief at bay.
“Shh. It’s all right.” He skimmed his hand over her soft hair, knowing that inside she was so much softer, even as she fought to appear harder. But there was strength in softness, tenderness.
“Why ye be sad, miss?” Robin asked.
“We had a bit of unhappy news,” Finn told the lad, making light of the devastating news because he didn’t want to upset her more or cause the lad to worry.
“I should have shared half me biscuit with her.”
Her laugh was a strangled sound. “Yes, that might have helped,” she said.
But it wouldn’t have. Only time and distance would ease the ache.
With a sniff, she straightened. He was reaching into his pocket for his handkerchief when Robin produced a piece of linen and held it out to her. “Thank you,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
The Scoundrel in Her Bed Page 27