A Scandalous Marriage (11 page)

Suddenly, Leah realized that Devon was there. He slept in the chair with its high wood back to her, so that she couldn’t see his face. His long legs were stretched toward the fire, one booted foot crossed over the other.

For a second, she couldn’t breathe. How often, when she’d been alone and afraid, had she wished for his strength, his teasing humor, his presence?

The recriminations and anger that had driven them apart seemed insignificant now.

On silent feet, she inched toward the drawer. Snippets of conversation, the moments of her labor—what he’d said, she’d said, how she’d responded—were confused and jumbled in her mind. She would be able to sort it all out after she’d taken her baby and retreated to the bedroom.

She reached for the drawer, using both hands to lift it—and discovered it empty.

Alarmed, she looked up… right into Devon’s eyes.

In the golden firelight, his expression appeared grim. The neck of his shirt was open, the sleeves rolled up. Her baby was nestled protectively in the crook of his arm.

With a soft gasp of mother love, she reached for her child, but Devon’s deep, silky voice stopped her.

“Who is the baby’s father?”

She froze. Her mouth went dry. Her heart pounded in her chest.

He waited.

A part of Leah wanted to run. But she’d never been a coward. Through sheer strength of will, she raised her chin in defiance, her gaze not leaving his.

She could have challenged him, told him she didn’t owe him explanations, but in truth she did. Devon’s hand rested on the baby’s blanket-covered feet as if he were keeping them warm. Her son, and perhaps herself, would not have lived if it hadn’t been for Devon. So she answered, “David Draycutt.”

He repeated the name softly before saying, “I do not know him. Is he in London?”

“No.”

“Do you—” He paused, then continued, “Do you love him?”

Love.

What a fool she’d been to let this man slip away. “I pretended I did.”

“Where is he now?”

There was an edge to his voice. One she’d not heard before. One she didn’t trust. “I want my baby.”

“And you shall have him,
when
my question is answered.”

His eyes reflected the flames of the fire. It gave him a dangerous air. She decided not to test him.

“He’s dead,” she said, her voice faint.

Silence.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Leah?”

His question caught her by surprise.

“Devon, if he was alive, I’d kill him myself.”

Her words surprised a sharp bark of laughter out of Devon, his teeth flashing white. “Well said, Leah.”

“May I have my baby?”

“Here he is.” But he made no move to offer him.

Heat rose in her cheeks. Devon was daring her to come close. Could it be that he knew how awkward she felt?

Her hastily made braid was coming undone. She flipped it over her shoulder and then wished she hadn’t.

Her breasts tingled with a need to nurse. They overfilled the bodice of her chemise and dress she should have taken the time to lace.

But it was too late for that. All she had left was her pride, and her pride wouldn’t let her hesitate in front of him. Conscious of his every breath, she stepped forward. She turned her head as she reached for her son so that she wouldn’t be looking directly into Devon’s face and those all too knowing eyes. To her relief, he easily relinquished the baby.

Leah raised her sleeping baby up to her lips, overwhelmed by the perfect grace of her child. His skin was velvety soft. It smelled of newness and endless possibilities. His weight felt good to her. Here was something solid. Something, someone she could love.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She turned and would have escaped to the bedroom, except his arm blocked her way. He pulled her down to sit in his lap. She attempted to jump up, but his arm stiffened, holding her prisoner. She glanced at Old Edith. If she cried out, she could wake the midwife.

And then what?

She knew Devon wouldn’t hurt her. Ever. And she was all too aware of his superior height and strength.

“How did Draycutt die?” he asked.

“Devon—”

“Tell me, Leah.”

“Why are you doing this?”

For a second, he frowned, as if he didn’t have an easy answer. At last he said, “I must know.”

Leah lightly ran the pad of her thumb back and forth against her baby’s cheek. “What you really want to know is why I chose him?”

“God, yes!” The words almost exploded out of him.

Leah shot a warning glance in Old Edith’s direction, but Devon didn’t seem to care. For her part, the midwife slept on, oblivious to the differences of the two people only feet away from her.

He did, however, lower his voice. “Why him? Why would you run away with him but not me?”

“I didn’t run away with him. I left on my own.”

“But you said he was dead. I thought that was why—?” He broke off, puzzled.

Leah pressed her lips together. The story was inside her, one she hadn’t told to anyone before. One that still filled her with pain.

“What happened, Leah? Tell me,” he asked softly.

If he had demanded or threatened, she would not have spoken. But this was Devon, the man who had saved her son. She owed him this.

“Do you remember the day on the wharves? When you told me you loved me?”

“Yes,” he replied warily.

“I heard what you said, but I didn’t believe.” She shifted the baby in her arms to a more comfortable position. “Later, I couldn’t run away with you, not after you shot my brother.”

“I had no choice.”

“You promised, Devon. You told me that no harm would come to him.”

“And I tried to keep my promise.”

“Julian said you shot to kill.”

Hearing the words out loud in Devon’s presence, Leah suddenly realized how stupid they were.

Especially when he answered, “If I had aimed to kill, Julian would be in the grave.”

He paused, shaking his head. “Leah, he challenged me. I did all I could to reason with him.”

“I know that… now.”

“But then? What did you know then?”

“I knew I felt so guilty. It was my fault. All of it.”

“That’s not true. Julian could have accepted my apology. I wanted to marry you.”

He would have married her
. Her suspicions and doubts had been mistaken. “Devon, what happened that morning?”

“You mean you don’t know?” he said tersely. “You sent me away without knowing?”

Tears came to her eyes. She blinked them back. “I was wrong.”

An angry muscle worked in his jaw. Leah slid off his lap. He did not stop her.

She looked down at him. “All I know is that my brother returned home with his hand shattered. He’ll never be able to use it again, and he’s more bitter than ever. I blame myself. I knew better than to start with you.”

Devon rose from the chair, turning from her. For a second, she feared he was going to walk away, but he didn’t. Instead, he spoke, his voice tight. “I did try to see he didn’t come to harm. But he refused my apology. Your brother was a madman that morning. He was furious when I deloped by shooting into the air and claiming all responsibility. He insisted I reload or he’d shoot me where I stood. You can ask McDermott or any of the seconds. They’ll tell you. I did the best I could under the circumstances.”

“Julian would not have done anything dishonorable,” she said with less conviction than she ought.

“No, he’d just blow my brains out.”

Leah didn’t like hearing this, especially when she recognized the ring of truth. “You are a crack shot.

You aimed for his hand.”

“I did.”

“The nerves are severed. He can’t bend it or use it. Your bullet has destroyed his pride.”

“And you feel guilty.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I couldn’t leave with you after that. They would have cut me off. And they needed me. I had to marry rich to save them.”

He looked around the room and then replied, “Well, you’ve done a damn fine job of it.”

His harsh words went right to her heart.

She sat in the chair, her legs suddenly unable to support her. She’d thought as much to herself a hundred times… oh, but why did it hurt so much now?

Because now, she was even more aware of what she’d lost when she’d chosen her obligation to her family over Devon’s love.

Quietly she said, “I have done many things I regret, but I do not regret my son. I will never apologize for him.”

“What happened? How did he come about? You barely let me kiss you back then.” The anger was gone from his tone, and in its stead was a sense of disillusionment.

Leah drew a shaky breath and said, “After you left London, I told myself I didn’t care. But I did. I missed you. My parents, of course, were unhappy with me. Julian takes laudanum constantly for the pain—he barely acts like himself anymore—and poor William still gambles and drinks. He doesn’t know where he belongs or what he wants to do. Devon, I tried to be what they wanted me to be. I tried to forget you. But everything was so horribly wrong. I turned hard. Selfish. Arrogant even. Dear Lord, it feels like a lifetime ago, and I seem so old now compared to then. I was incredibly naive. Redgrave was interested, and I think I could have brought him up to scratch, but then Mother decided he didn’t have enough blunt.”

She couldn’t face him as she spoke. She stared at the fire instead. “Draycutt was a cavalry officer. He was blonde with a huge mustache. An opposite of you. Nor did we need to sneak and hide the way you and I did. I could dance with him in the open. Mother had gotten pushier. She was desperate for money.

She started urging me to be more encouraging to the gentleman.”

She stopped and looked up at Devon. “Do you know you were the first man I’d ever kissed?”

He shrugged, unwilling to comment.

“Well, that changed,” she said simply. “I was going to the highest bidder, and there were those who wanted to sample the wares. Then David arrived in my life, and he didn’t have money or connections or anything my parents wanted, and I was a foolish, rebellious young girl.”

“So you became—” He paused, then forced himself to say the word. “Lovers.”

“No.” She focused back on the fire. “Not until Lord Tiebauld’s family approached my parents with a marriage offer.” Lord Tiebauld was a Scottish lord who lived at the very ends of civilization and was rumored to be quite mad. His wealthy family needed someone to breed an heir off of him.

Leah said, “The stories they tell of him are frightening.”

Devon made no comment, neither confirming nor denying her fears. But they sounded silly to her now.

Immature, self-indulgent. She’d learned a great deal over the last months.

She continued. “Lord Tiebauld’s sister expressly said she wanted a virgin. She even hired her own physician to examine me. Something about rights of succession. She is a stickler for protocol. I found it humiliating. I was very upset, and I told Mother I did not want to marry Tiebauld. What if my children were born mad? I couldn’t bear the thought.” She leaned over and kissed her son’s head before adding softly, “I couldn’t stand the thought of him touching me.”

“But she didn’t agree.”

“She laughed at my fears.” Leah looked up at him. “I took it into my head that if I wasn’t a virgin, then I would not be forced to marry Tiebauld.” She frowned sadly. “And I wanted someone to love me. I wanted to believe I hadn’t made a terrible error when I sent you away.”

After a moment, he said, “So you gave yourself to Draycutt.”

“Yes.” She didn’t look at him when she made the admission. She couldn’t. What had once been between them was over, but it still wasn’t easy to be in his presence and confess her sins.

“I hadn’t ever dreamed I’d become… with child. Nor was I the only woman in Draycutt’s life. In my desire to find someone to love me, I’d believed all his lies. But the truth was he had other lovers, married ones. He was wounded in a duel with an irate husband. He died of the wound only days later.”

“Did you mourn for him?”

The question surprised her, and she hated Devon a bit for making her admit, “I was sorry he was gone, but my heart wasn’t attached. I did tell Mother that I was no longer a virgin. She was furious. Still, I managed to cajole her into a few more weeks before they accepted that madman’s offer. Perhaps I could have caught the eye of a duke.”

“Or a marquess,” he said softly, a reminder that he would be the very wealthy marquess of Kirkeby.

A flash of temper surged through her. “You would never have been acceptable to my parents. Ever.”

“Yes, of course,” he admitted, his tone surly. “When did they discover you were pregnant?”

“My maid Mae was the first to realize. I had morning sickness almost immediately. She told Mother.

Mother decided that since I had already been examined by the physician and officially declared a virgin, then I could marry Tiebauld without anyone being the wiser if we got rid of the baby.”

A wave of pain washed through her. She hugged her sleeping baby close. “Oh, Devon. How could she not have loved me enough to see that I couldn’t marry Tiebauld? And I couldn’t let them harm the baby.

He was innocent. He deserved to live. I feared having the sin of his death on my family.”

His fists clenched. At one time, he would have gathered her in his arms. Now he stepped back as if afraid to be close to her, his expression unreadable.

“I ran away,” she said almost defiantly. “I wouldn’t let them have my baby. You once said that it was good to be bold and to be willing to change. I didn’t know where I was going or what I would do, but I wanted this child. One night, my brother William came in drunk and happy. He’d won at gambling—a first! I waited until he’d gone to sleep and stole his purse. I left London on the first stage.”

“What happened then?”

“I learned about life,” she said simply, but there was a wealth of meaning behind each word. “I was tricked out of my money, forced to sell the clothing I’d brought with me in order to eat, and learned that the world has no sympathy for petted debutantes.”

“You could have come to me.” The words were stiff.

“Could I?” she wondered sadly. “I wanted to… but we both know it would not have been wise. It would not have been like it was before.”