A Dangerous Love (32 page)

She couldn't think of all the issues now.
She was carrying Emilian's child.

From the ashes of grief and despair, joy began unfurling.

She stroked her flat belly, crying. There were no regrets. How could she regret carrying Emilian's child, even if he didn't love her? For she loved him and she always would. Even if she never saw him again, she would have this part of him—this part of them. The child was a wonderful gift, a blessing. For the first time since he had left her, she felt her heart stir and beat, becoming alive again, and suddenly the future loomed, filled with bright light. She realized she couldn't wait to hold their child in her arms.
She loved this baby.

But it was bittersweet, because as she imagined holding their tiny infant daughter or son, she saw Emilian standing over her, smiling at them. She wasn't sure if that would ever happen—she wasn't sure of anything just then, except that she had been given a miracle.

“Ariella?” Margery whispered. She poked her head into the room, clad in her nightclothes.

Ariella smiled at her. “Come in.”

Margery did so, closing the door. She hurried to the bed and climbed into it. “I have been thinking about you all day. Are you crying?”

“No.” Ariella touched her hand, smiling. “Don't worry. I am happy, Margery, so very happy. I am having his child!”

Margery stared in dismay. “You must send Emilian a letter. He will come back and marry you if he knows the truth.”

Ariella's joy gave way to foreboding. “No. That isn't a good idea.”

Margery gasped. “You will tell him, won't you? You will marry him?”

Ariella grimaced. “I will always love him. And I believe he cares for me, I do. But I will not force him into marriage, and certainly not with our child.”

Margery paled. “He seduced you. He has an obligation to take care of you and this child.”

“I wanted to be seduced. He did not take advantage of me. And I have the means to give this child a very good life.”

Margery was wide-eyed. “Ariella, your father will force Emilian to the altar, no matter what you wish.”

Ariella feared Margery was right. “That would be a mistake. Emilian will see it as an attack or a trap, and he will be furious. No. My father won't do any such thing, because he won't know about the child.”

Margery cried out.

Ariella bit her lip hard, some of her euphoria vanishing. This was going to have to be a secret. She could barely believe that she could not share her joy with her family. “I am going to have to go away and have this child alone.”

“You are as independent and as eccentric as ever! How can you intend to be an unwed mother?” Margery cried. “You will be scorned and ostracized! You cannot keep such a secret forever, anyway!”

Ariella looked at her. “I may have to go away for some time.”

Margery paled. “Eventually you will have to come home, and the secret will be out,” she pointed out. “They will hunt him down then, you know that, even if it is a year from now—even if it is
years
from now. The moment they realize you have had his child, he is doomed.”

Ariella tensed. “I will talk them out of it. In any case, I am beginning to realize going to London now is not the best idea. The city is unhealthful in the summer months.”

“Ariella, it is Emilian's right to know,” Margery persisted.

“Yes, it is. And I will tell him, but I haven't decided when.” She simply couldn't think of that issue now.

“You are determined to go this alone,” Margery finally said.

“Right now, it is my only choice.”

Margery inhaled. “Bloody hell,” she said, surprising Ariella. “Please know that I think you are making the wrong decision. I think he should be told the truth and that he should marry you, no matter what he wants to do, for your sake and the baby's.”

“Then we are in disagreement,” Ariella said.

They stared at each other. Margery took her hand firmly. “If you really plan to have this baby in secret, you know I am staying with you.”

Ariella looked into her worried eyes and felt her own tears rise. They were tears of gratitude and relief. “You are the most loyal friend I have. I am afraid, Margery,” she admitted, trembling. “I am afraid of being alone during the next few months, I am afraid of being alone during childbirth and I am even afraid of being alone after the baby is born!”

Margery hugged her. “You aren't alone. You won't be alone. I will be with you for as long as necessary.” She wiped her own moist eyes and her tone became brusque. “Let's start to think of where you wish to live for a good year. We will claim we wish to tour, and in a few months we will set out. Maybe we can lease a villa in the south of France. The climate is good, you speak the language well and I can get on.”

Ariella nodded, a new excitement beginning. “I like that,” she said slowly. “The south of France is beautiful. It will be a wonderful place to have this baby.”

 

T
HE NEXT WEEK PASSED
in a flurry of plans. Trying not to arouse suspicion, Ariella and Margery took long walks in Amanda's gardens, with Margery carrying her sketch pad and charcoal. She was, fortunately, an adept artist, and she claimed she intended to do a watercolor study of one of Amanda's famous coral roses after leaving Rose Hill, which required a vast number of sketches and long hours in the gardens. To all appearances, Ariella was now immersed in the history of the Mongols, and it was simple enough to read in the gardens while Margery “sketched.”

The sketch pad was filled with notes. Letters had been sent to several London agents, and replies had just been received. There was more than one pleasant villa on the outskirts of Nice available for a long lease. Margery had just sent her personal secretary off to the south of France to inspect the various accommodations. Within a month or so, they would be able to determine which villa to let.

Ariella had begun to hint to her family that she wished to travel. Her father seemed pleased, and she knew he was relieved that she was getting over Emilian. If only he knew the truth. But there was no guilt. She had to protect Emilian from his wrath and that meant going forward in absolute secrecy.

Margery's father, the Earl of Adare, had arrived the other day for the ball, with his heir, Ned, and his younger sons. Margery would soon sit down with him and ask him for permission to tour. Ariella knew her uncle would never refuse such a request.

They were actually about to pull off their charade. If all went as planned, she and Margery would soon be on their way to France, with no one the wiser.

 

A
RIELLA HAD NO WISH
to attend Amanda's ball, but there was no choice. While everyone knew she did not like such fêtes, it was her habit to grumble and then dutifully attend. She intended to behave as usual.

As she slowly approached the ballroom, the house was already alive with laughter, conversation and the strains of the orchestra. Ahead, she saw the ballroom, filled with ladies in their colorful evening gowns and glittering jewels, the men in their black tailcoats, white-coated waiters passing out flutes of champagne. She saw her father and Amanda standing not far from the ballroom's entrance, surrounded by a handful of guests whom they were obviously greeting. Cliff was golden and handsome, Amanda stunningly beautiful, her small gloved hand on his arm. Ariella smiled to herself. On a night like this, it was so clear that they remained deeply in love.

She paused, not going any farther into the room. Impossibly, she saw herself waltzing in Emilian's arms.

She did not want to be swept back to that May night. She had been immersed in making plans and there had been little time to mourn what she'd had and lost. She had become adept at instantly changing her thoughts. The moment she missed him, the moment it hurt, she would think of the tiny life growing inside her and imagine holding her newborn for the very first time.

Her heart lurched. Emilian felt so close. If she dared, it would be easy to remember every moment they had shared. It would be easy to recall every detail of that one night. She saw him staring at her from across the room, she saw him smiling down at her as they danced, while she trod on his toes. She saw the warm, passionate look in his eyes, and she could almost feel his strong hard body as he held her far too closely.

Ariella breathed. She still missed him terribly, and yearned for his return. Having his child could not ease that.

She must not allow herself to indulge in such fantasies and such memories now. Emilian was gone. It might be years before she saw him again. She was determined to have a healthy child. Dwelling on the past would not help her health. It would not help the baby. She decided she would stay a mere hour, and then plead a headache and leave.

“Would you like to dance, Miss de Warenne?”

Ariella tensed at the sound of Robert St Xavier's voice. She faced him, disbelieving. She had not forgotten his utter treachery the day Emilian had been flogged. Now, she recalled the insults he had shouted at Emilian when he had been banished from Woodland. She stiffened impossibly and stared coldly at him. She put all the condescension she could into her tone. “I'm afraid not.”

He seemed incredulous and he flushed.

“There is only one St Xavier with whom I would ever dance, and the viscount is not here,” she added as imperiously.

He was crimson now. “You might change your tune,” he said angrily. “Emilian has gone Gypsy. I always knew the day would come. He won't come back, and that hurts you, doesn't it?” He shrugged and insolently looked at her low-cut dress. “You are welcome at Woodland any day, Miss de Warenne.”

“What does that mean?” she demanded, aghast. Did he dare insinuate that he wished for a liaison with her?

His eyes widened with mock innocence. “You misunderstand me.” He laughed coldly. “No estate can be without its master for very long, and Woodland is no exception.”

Ariella instantly understood the innuendo. Surely, surely, Robert did not think to be lord of Woodland in Emilian's absence! “Woodland has a master—and it also has an estate agent.”

He laughed. “I am Emilian's next of kin, his heir. If he forfeits the estate by a prolonged absence, I am next in line. In any case, I have taken up residence there. I have no intention of letting some agent steal me blind.”

“Nothing is yours to steal,” she cried, stunned. “Woodland is Emilian's. He is viscount, and I have no doubt the estate manager is a stellar man!”

Robert smiled at her. “Then why don't we say that I am looking after my beloved cousin's interests while he is gone?” He bowed. “Please call, Miss de Warenne. You have been interested in the wrong St Xavier, and I feel certain I can persuade you of that.”

She trembled with outrage as Robert walked away. He hated Emilian and Emilian despised him. They were rivals. Did he know of her illicit affair and think to encourage a liaison in order to take her from Emilian? Or were his intentions acceptable? Perhaps he wished to court her. He might hope for marriage and her fortune.

Margery tugged on her arm. “Is he a suitor?” she asked, incredulous.

“No, he is not.” She remained distressed. Did Robert truly think to somehow possess Woodland, taking it from Emilian? But that was impossible, wasn't it? She glanced at Margery. “If Emilian never returns, what will happen to his estate?” But even as she spoke, she knew.

Her child was Emilian's heir. Her child, if a son, was the next viscount.

Margery gave her a long look. “For your child to inherit the title you would have to come forward very publicly. But I don't know if you could succeed, Ariella, not without Emilian's support. And you would have to marry.”

Ariella tensed. Did she have to tell Emilian about their child after all?
Her child had every right to Woodland.
Robert's treachery might make it necessary for her to tell Emilian the truth after all, sooner than she had intended. “I am certain of very few things, but one of them is that Emilian will claim this child when I ask him to do so. Let us hope he isn't staying away forever. Not for my sake, but for this baby's sake—for his or her future.”

Margery leaned close. “I still believe you should tell Emilian the truth now. His cousin is a scoundrel, and I fear he thinks to cause trouble.”

Ariella hoped Margery was wrong, and that St Xavier was harmless, a man of bluffs. They squeezed hands and separated, sharing silent looks. Ariella saw Robert standing some distance away now. Although he was with several gentlemen, he was regarding her unwaveringly. He lifted his flute in a salute when their eyes met.

She turned away, flustered. Margery was right. Robert was up to no good. She could let his behavior pass, but only for the moment. She needed to carefully think the situation through.

“Will you dance with your father?” Cliff appeared at her side, smiling at her, but his eyes were filled with speculation.