The Confessions of the Duke of Newlyn

by Bronwyn Scott

  Violet soon became the centre of attention both inside and outside the house, fussed over and adored by everyone. Everyone felt the need to touch her dark, glossy curls and proclaim they had never seen a happier child.

  Melissa’s mother, who, despite her initial reservations about her daughter keeping the child, had fallen in love with her. She was horrified that Melissa insisted on taking her out in this improper fashion, telling her that Violet should be in the nursery in her cot, not bouncing about atop a horse, but Melissa would have it no other way. Nestling in a sling fastened around Melissa’s waist, the infant was secure and in no danger.

  Warmed by her cloak and with her dark hair loose about her shoulders, she rode along happily. Here was a damp, earthy smell on the air and on either side of the narrow lane the bare hedgerows provided shelter for rabbits in their burrows. Beyond the hedgerows the empty fields were ploughed, each ready for planting. She couldn’t wait for spring to arrive when everything would burst into life. So deep was she in her thoughts that it was a shock when a galloping horse and rider appeared suddenly round a bend. Fortunately they didn’t hit her, but in the rider’s attempt not to, his mount swerved and reared up, throwing the rider from the saddle where he landed in an ungainly heap on the ground. Melissa held on to the reins and pulled her frightened horse to one side. For several heart-stopping moments she was occupied soothing its terror and holding on to Violet. It was the man’s voice and the barking from her dog that jerked her from her ministrations.

  ‘In God’s name, get this damned dog off me.’

  Seeing the wild tangle of dog and man, Melissa slid to the ground, still clutching Violet. The dog, of indeterminate pedigree, big, floppy and excitable, was barking ecstatically. There was mayhem as she tried to restrain the dog, who seemed intent on licking the poor man to death.

  ‘Do you usually take up the whole road?’ the man reproached harshly, trying to push the dog away, but the dog was having none of it. ‘How the devil I managed to avoid you I’ll never know. Didn’t you hear me coming or are you deaf?’

  ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘Sorry! Is that all you can say when you’ve just frightened my horse to death?’

  ‘It was not my fault. I was riding well in.’ Melissa was indignant that this infuriating stranger thought he was in the right. ‘You were riding much too fast. This lane has many twists and turns and is often used—and there is certainly nothing wrong with my ears.’

  ‘Then you should ride with more care,’ he barked, while the dog continued to pant in his ear, ‘especially when in charge of an infant. To have her bouncing about in front of you like that is both dangerous and irresponsible. And here, take your damned dog. He’s totally out of control.’

  ‘No, he isn’t—and his name is Bracken. He’s simply pleased to see you. He usually comes with me when I am riding.’

  ‘Why? Do you feel you need protection? I suppose I have to be thankful I haven’t been mauled to death. Is he fierce?’

  Managing to hold on to a wriggling Violet, who was straining her neck to see what all the fuss was about, Melissa merely nodded. Let him think what he liked, even though Bracken was more likely to greet a newcomer with lots of tail wagging and affectionate slobbery licking. She watched the man—a gentleman by the cut of his clothes—get to his feet and seize the reins of his trembling horse before brushing his clothes down and running his hand distractedly through his thick black hair. His tall hat had fallen off and lay upside down on the ground.

  ‘I trust you are not hurt from your tumble,’ Melissa said.

  ‘I’ve suffered worse,’ he grumbled.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Now if you are quite sure you are all right, I’ll be on my way.’

  That was the moment the man raised his head and looked at her for the first time. On meeting those glacial silver-grey eyes recognition jolted through Melissa like a lightning force, rendering her speechless. There was a vibrant life and an intensity in those piercing eyes that no one could deny. They were beautiful, she decided, and they made her shiver slightly at their intensity. Her breath caught in her throat. He had a knowledgeable face, a face that had seen life. It was strong and slashed with swooping black eyebrows. His mouth was firm and hard, but it had a lift at each corner which spoke of sensuality. There was an aggressive virility about him, an uncompromising authority. His chin was thrusting and inclined to arrogance.

  He was astonishingly handsome, as handsome as she remembered. It was as if the Lord had decided that his face was too perfect and placed a smudge—a small birthmark close to his right ear—like the dab of purple paint from an artist’s brush. Her heart was pounding in her ears and there was a short, humming silence as the man took a closer look at her face. His brow furrowed as his eyes narrowed searchingly and then widened with disbelief.

  ‘Melissa! Good Lord! What the hell...?’

  Melissa’s arms tightened around her daughter and she stepped back, having no idea what to say or how to react now she was face to face with the man who had occupied her waking thoughts for the past twenty months. She realised at once that nothing had changed. Her feelings were just the same and her whole body yearned towards him. Her face flaming at the meanderings of her mind and what had occurred between them in the Spring Gardens in London, she shook her head free of the memory of their coupling, focusing her eyes on him.

  He stepped closer, taking firm hold of the reins when she was about to turn away. Sweeping her with a bold gaze, those incredible eyes that were so like her daughter’s delved into hers before narrowing as remembrance began to dawn on him. He raised a single, questioning eyebrow. ‘When we parted I never thought I would see you again. It was in the Spring Gardens when I’d just got back from France—perhaps twenty months ago. We—’

  ‘Please don’t go on,’ Melissa was quick to retort, stirred by a sudden tumult of emotions and having no wish to hear what she had done on that beautiful night put into words. She was conscious of an unwilling excitement. In fact, much to her annoyance, she was very much aware of everything about him—the long, strong lines of his body, his face strong and handsome—and she saw faint lines of weariness on his face which aroused her curiosity. ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

  Her embarrassment—the soft flush that sprang to her cheeks and the way she lowered her eyes—brought a crooked smile to Laurence’s lips and a knowing glint to his eyes. ‘I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you if that’s what you are afraid of. But I do remember everything about that night—and it may surprise you to know that after we parted I tried to find you.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes. I wanted to make quite sure you were all right. We made love. You were a virgin and I was not in the habit of deflowering virgins. My conscience smote me and I found myself turning back to look for you with mingled feelings of regret and concern.’

  His words—that he had tried to find her, that he had been concerned about her—touched Melissa. She bit her lip and clamped down on her emotions which threatened to surface—despair, hopelessness and fear of laying eyes on this man again. When they had parted, a finger of disappointment had traced a delicate path down her spine. It had left her bewildered, for how could she have enjoyed such intimacy with a man? Why had she done something so reprehensible, so contrary to her upbringing that it would court a malicious scandal?

  No one was allowed to see what festered inside her, the deep yearning which just would not die. She felt the intensity of his gaze fixed on her face. Her feelings for him were unchanged, all dominating, obscuring the pain of their parting. She could actually feel the tears welling up inside her, but she would not weep in front of him. He was looking at her with such shock and surprise, but no distaste, that to her own amazement and horror she wanted nothing more than to be gathered once more into his arms. What he said next quickly banished these tender feelings.

  ‘You aroused my curiosity,’ he murmu
red gently. ‘You could have secured a king’s ransom for what you lost to me, yet you came willingly, without even attempting to bargain for your worth. You then disappeared without a trace.’

  Melissa stared at him speechless, unable to fully comprehend the impact of his words.

  ‘You wore the attire of a servant and yet you seemed gently born and not the type to be wandering the gardens with other ladies of the night seeking pleasure. It was the sound of your laughter above the music and chatter of the crowd that drew my attention. It was a joyous laugh, young and infectious, as though nothing had ever troubled you.’

  Melissa threw back her head and glared at him, mortally offended by his words. ‘Ladies of the night? Is that what you thought I was? You were mistaken. I was not peddling my wares—far from it. I was in London for such a short time and, having escaped my mother’s watchful gaze I was simply there to experience the delights of the gardens—until I encountered you.’

  In the face of her ire, he looked deep into her eyes, frowning deeply as he began to wonder at the repercussions for what had occurred. ‘Dear Lord, I had no idea—and who would have thought I would meet you here of all places.’

  Melissa opened her eyes wide, then blinked rapidly, but Laurence had seen the moisture which shone in her eyes. It encouraged him and his face softened into a smile. ‘You are upset—and see, you are upsetting the child.’ His gaze dropped to the squirming bundle in her arms. ‘What have we here? Good Lord! Your child is nothing but a babe.’ He glared at her accusingly. ‘Have you no sense holding on to such a young child on a horse?’

  Melissa stiffened in what appeared to be offence and her face, which had been ready to crumple with her angry tears, hardened and her lip lifted in contempt as she put up a defence, determined to pull herself together. ‘I assure you she is perfectly safe with me. See—she is secure in the sling.’ Standing up straight, her head held high, her jaw thrust forward, she pushed the heavy mantle of her hair back from her face with her free hand. ‘And I am not upset. I am angry because you almost knocked me off my horse with your recklessness. If the child is upset it is because you frightened her—didn’t he, Violet?’ she said, looking down to smile brilliantly, heartbreakingly, at her daughter.

  Raising her eyes, she was struck—as she had been the first time they’d met—by how different he was from all other men she knew. There was something in his face, in his whole demeanour, that set him apart. As he continued to scrutinise her she wished more than anything in the world that she wasn’t attracted to him, that she could keep her eyes from straying to that mouth that had once explored every curve and hollow of her body. She had vowed many times to put him behind her, but it was easier said than done. The brief time they had spent together making love was etched on her soul and nothing could erase it however hard she tried.

  ‘She is your child?’

  She nodded, averting her eyes. ‘Yes.’

  ‘She is very bonny. Your husband must be very proud of her.’

  ‘I—I have no husband.’ Raising her head, Melissa saw something move in the depths of his eyes—as if a thought had taken hold.

  ‘No? How old is your daughter?’

  ‘Eleven months.’

  Violet was curious about what was happening around her and strained her neck to look at the stranger who had appeared from nowhere and disrupted their ride. The effect on Laurence was instantaneous.

  ‘Give her to me.’

  Reaching out, he pulled Violet from the security of the sling and held her at arm’s length. The child did not turn back to her mother and kept her eyes, curious and searching, fixed on the man. He continued looking intently at Violet, grey eyes meeting grey, locking, the older eyes searching, probing, the young eyes inquisitive, thoughtful. Watching him closely, Melissa watched his changing expression, her heart beating frantically. It was as if a sudden pain twisted his heart—as if it had been pierced by a sharp blade.

  As he cradled Violet in the crook of his arm, a thought clearly suddenly struck him and he pushed back her bonnet, gently lifting the tumble of hair that stood about her head in a froth of light, to reveal the small, tell-tale mark just above her ear. Melissa almost felt his shock.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said softly, ‘what have we here?’ He continued to scrutinise Violet, in no hurry, it would seem, to hand her back to her mother.

  Melissa began to feel uncomfortable. ‘I—I’ll take her. I must be getting back.’

  ‘Back? Where is back?’

  ‘Home—to High Meadows. Baron Charles Frobisher is my father.’

  ‘Is he indeed.’ Raising his head, he looked at Melissa. The still, bright silver of his eyes was enigmatic, revealing nothing of his feelings. ‘Violet is my daughter. She has the mark. There can be no dispute over it.’

  With two identical faces looking at her it was a statement of fact Melissa could not deny. Even their expressions, audacious and compelling, were the same and with a tilt of humour at the corners of their lips.

  ‘She—she is my daughter,’ he reiterated. ‘It takes two to make a child. We—you and I—made this one.’

  ‘Yes,’ Melissa whispered, wanting to snatch Violet from his arms and ride for home. She could see he was finding it hard to comprehend that this was happening. Not only had he made love to a sexually innocent girl from a respectable family, but he had impregnated her.

  ‘Violet,’ he said, speaking softly. ‘It’s a pretty name.’

  ‘I think so,’ Melissa murmured, swallowing down the hard, emotional lump that had appeared in her throat. ‘When she was born her eyes were blue which quickly turned to violet. I thought they would remain so, but as you see they are no longer violet.’

  ‘Has she been baptised?’

  ‘No—not with her being illegitimate.’

  ‘Then she will be. Every child should be baptised.’

  Melissa looked at him steadily. ‘What is it to you? You do not know her.’

  ‘Through no fault of my own. It is something I intend to rectify. I am responsible for her existence. I want to help.’

  ‘Violet is my daughter. That means that I make the decisions concerning her.’

  Laurence looked at Melissa as if he was about to explode. ‘We’ll see about that. You cannot bring a child up on your own.’

  ‘I have my parents to help me.’

  ‘They won’t always be there. You and I—what we did, Violet is the innocent result,’ he said, handing Violet back to her.

  Melissa felt a sudden surge of anger when she recalled how disappointed she had felt when he had left her in the Spring Gardens. How stupid and naive she had been. Despite the feelings he had stirred in her she was ashamed that she had been such a willing participant. Her sexual innocence and lack of knowledge regarding the male species had led to her undoing. But perhaps this was nothing out of the ordinary and he was used to making love to ladies whenever the fancy took him. After all, she thought bitterly, how would she know? She regarded him coldly, her face showing no trace of emotion. With pride and self-respect she held her head high.

  ‘That night in the Spring Gardens dealt me a cruel blow, but I was determined not to be the victim of circumstance. Despite what you must have thought at the time, I did not have your experience. Apart from yourself, no other man has touched me—either before or since,’ she told him with simple honesty, giving him further insight into just how truly innocent she was.

  ‘Thank you for telling me. Now I know Violet, have seen her, I cannot walk away from her.’

  Melissa could think of no immediate reply. Panic rose into her throat, her heart beating so loudly that she felt it must be audible. How far was he prepared to take his responsibility? What would he do? Take Violet away from her? It was a situation she could not allow. She could not endure any more humiliation. With an urgent need to escape she took a step back, but then she stood, transfixed by the p
ower in his eyes that held hers.

  ‘There is no need to fear me, Melissa.’

  ‘I don’t,’ she replied. But she did. She feared even more what he would do. ‘And me?’ she asked the question quietly.

  Laurence looked at her directly and the impact of his gaze was potent. He took a step closer, his powerful, animalistic masculinity immediately assaulting her senses. Melting inwardly, she felt her traitorous body offer itself to this man—in that moment they both acknowledged the forbidden flame that sparked between them. He raised one well-defined eyebrow, watching her. He seemed to know exactly what was going on in her mind.

  ‘As to that we shall have to see. Does the idea of me being involved in Violet’s life strike you as distasteful? It is customary for the father of a child to be a part of its life.’

  Melissa almost retreated from those suddenly fierce eyes, but she steeled herself and held her ground. ‘I do not find the idea of you in any way distasteful and as much as you want to be a part of Violet’s life you must understand that ever since I realised I was with child the decisions that have been taken where she is concerned have been mine and mine alone. I cannot help it if I find the idea of sharing the responsibility with someone else—difficult.’

  He looked at her hard, then nodded and cupped her chin in his hand. ‘I do understand—more than you realise. I can see that you have not had an easy time of it. But our daughter is a beautiful child, a credit to you, and I thank you for what you have done for her in my absence. Believe me when I tell you that had I known of her existence I would have come to you before now.’ Dropping his hand, he drew her horse forward. ‘You live nearby, I take it?’