A Scandalous Marriage (16 page)

But Devon didn’t care about such things. He’d never given a fig what the world thought of him.

Or did he? Was he truly as independent as he behaved?

She turned her hand over and studied the calluses. When she had run away, she’d thought she could be independent like Devon, that she could make her way in the world. She quickly learned that she’d been wrong. And yet, she’d learned a great deal, too. Lessons she would have never known in the petted hothouse atmosphere of the ton.

One of the first had been that things were rarely as they seemed.

“What are you thinking, Leah?”

She frowned, unwilling to share her thoughts, and found herself looking at a half naked man. Devon had taken off his shirt. Muscles rippled across his chest, and she couldn’t help but stare. The one time she’d seen Draycutt unclothed, he’d not looked like that.

“Are you all right, Leah?”

“What?” She came to her senses. “Oh. Yes. Fine.”

“You appear dizzy. You should sit down.”

Leah moved toward the bed, where she could only see Devon’s back. She sat down. “Yes, I was a little dizzy.” Even his back was a marvel to behold. Then she caught a glance at her own image in the mirror.

“I’m glad Lord Carruthers didn’t discover my identity. I look like a hag.”

“You look like anything but a hag.” He began scraping the lather from his face, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror. “You’ve had a child. You appear tired… but lovely.”

Lovely. The compliment made her suddenly shy—and all too aware of him.

She changed the subject from herself. “My brothers would never shave themselves.”

Devon’s eyebrows shot up. “What do they do when they are somewhere without a valet?”

“They are never in those circumstances.”

He laughed, and even she had to smile. That life seemed so far away. But downstairs were remnants of it.

She turned serious. “Devon, I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” He wiped his face, setting the towel down.

Her gaze dropped to her son. Ben looked around the room, his blue eyes still slightly unfocused, but he was very aware. “Of returning,” she said softly. “Of what people will say.”

Devon crossed to the bed and knelt before her. “Leah, you have nothing to fear. You are returning to London a viscountess. There is power in that title, if you will but use it.” He lightly ran his hand over Ben’s head. The baby turned in his direction. “You must stare everyone down with the haughtiest of expressions. Do that, and no one will say anything, except to exclaim over what a lucky woman you are to have landed a catch like me.”

His words startled a laugh out of her.

But before she could reply, the door practically bounced with a banging from someone on the other side.

Devon rose with a sigh. “What is it, Carruthers?”

“How did you know it was me?” he shouted through the door.

Looking at Leah, Devon rolled his eyes and answered, “Who else would it be?”

“Come downstairs for a drink,” Carruthers called. “Whelan and Scarleton are here. We all want you to join us. Ask your wife to join us.”

Devon frowned, disgusted. “I’d best go down. They won’t give us a moment’s peace until I do, and you and the baby need rest.”

“You need rest, too.”

“I’m fine.” He reached for the leather pack and pulled out a clean shirt. He pulled it on over his head as he walked to the door. “I’ll be down in a moment, you rascal. Uncork a bottle of claret for me.”

“And your wife?” the nosy Carruthers quizzed.

“My wife is not to be disturbed,” Devon answered in a voice that brooked no argument.

Carruthers accepted defeat gracefully and took himself off.

Devon tied his neckcloth with his customary inattention. Leah placed Ben in the middle of the bed and went to her husband. Gently, she pushed his hands aside and retied the knot decently.

“It needs starch,” she said.

“Starch makes my neck itch.”

She smiled. “Yes, I imagine so. There.” She stepped back to admire her handiwork just as there was another knock on the door. This time it wasn’t Lord Carruthers. It was their dinner.

The maids set the meal on the table. Devon grabbed a pheasant leg and took a hurried bite. “Delicious,”

he pronounced it. “Don’t wait up for me. It may take some doing to outdrink Carruthers.” He paused long enough to give Leah a very husbandly kiss on the forehead. It had been perfunctory, and yet it filled her with a sense of well-being she’d never had before.

It made her feel like a wife.

“Pardon, my lady,” Bess, the head maid, said after Devon left. “But where do you want the crib to go?”

As she spoke, a stable lad carried one carved out of oak through the door. It was obviously quite old.

“A crib?” Leah said, pleased. “Place it here, beside the bed.” This must have been what Devon was discussing with the innkeeper. She scooped Ben up into her arms. “Do you not see?” she whispered.

“Your
father
is taking care of us.”

Ben didn’t act impressed with the title, but Leah felt that she and Devon had crossed a threshold over the course of the afternoon. The magic was there. She’d seen a glimmer of it. But there was something new here, too, something she’d never trusted before. Devon would take care of her. Always. She would have a security in her life that she’d never known before. And in return, she would make him love her again. She would see that he did.

She wanted to laugh and dance and stomp her feet like a crazy woman, she was so giddy with joy.

Another maid appeared at the door, carrying a dress of midnight blue velvet and crisp white lace. “I found this one, Bess. Will it please Lord Huxhold?”

Bess looked to Leah. “My lady, your husband asked Mr. Francis if he had any dresses.” She dropped her voice. “Women leave them for payment from time to time. Do you like it? Lord Huxhold was most anxious we find something suitable. It may need a stitch or two. Oh, and there are these.” She reached into the overlarge pocket of her apron and pulled out a silver-handled brush and some soaps. “Lord Huxhold also asked Mr. Francis for these, but the innkeeper would like to give them to you as a bit of a wedding gift, my lady.” She confided, “Lord Huxhold is a great favorite of all the staff here.”

The soaps smelled of wild honeysuckle and spring. Leah took the two smooth, round balls in her hands and promptly burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “I’m just, I mean, it is such a lovely gift. It was so thoughtful, and the dress, too.” Ben decided he was hungry and cried along with her.

The two other maids exchanged glances, but Bess laughed. “It’s all right, my lady. I’ve had three children myself. It’s the birthing that makes us so emotional. You cry it out. You’ll feel better, and in a day or two you won’t be so weepy.”

She collected the dirty nappies, promising to return them clean in the morning, and the maids left.

“Oh, Ben, this is better than I ever imagined,” she whispered as the door shut. Her son didn’t agree. He wanted to eat.

She nursed while sipping a glass of very fine claret and nibbling on pheasant. Devon had been right. The bird was delicious. There was also a pottage of winter vegetables and crusty bread, fresh from the oven.

The creamy butter melted on it, and Leah groaned aloud at the sweet taste. Her bread had never been this light or her butter so smooth. In fact, she appreciated the whole meal much more than before because she knew how much work went into the making of it.

Her baby fell asleep, and she snuggled him down in the crib. Mellowed by a second glass of wine, she filled the basin with fresh warm water and bathed.

She’d forgotten what it was like to have all she wanted of the simple things like soap with a rich lather and a heavenly scent or using all the water she wished without worrying about fetching more. Still, when she rinsed her hair over the basin, she poured the discard back into a pitcher and reused it. A year ago, she would not have done so.

She dried her hair in front of the fire before trying on the dress. The bodice was too snug. However, it did allow her to display a generous amount of cleavage, and, she mused, perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Perhaps Devon would like that.

The hem was another matter. It dragged the ground, but even so it would see her to London, and she would not feel so foolish presenting herself to her new in-laws.

Thoughtfully, Leah undressed, then hung the gown on a peg in the wardrobe. She wasn’t certain how the marquess or the other members of Devon’s family would accept the marriage. It could be annulled.

She rejected the idea immediately. Devon was an honest man. He’d never misled her except for the time over the duel, but he had explained that, and the explanation had been reasonable. Julian did have a hot temper. She didn’t doubt that he hadn’t forced Devon to duel.

Now, a year later, she had a radical thought. Perhaps Julian
had
received what he’d begged for. And was that Devon’s fault?

She climbed into bed. The feather mattress was like sleeping on a cloud after so many months on a straw pallet. Hugging the pillow, she realized that whether Devon loved her or not, she had done what was right for her child. Yes, everything would work out.

The bottle of wine was empty by the time Devon joined Carruthers in a private room set up for cards.

Sitting with Carruthers were Scarleton and Whelan. They were good-natured men who knew each other too well to gamble seriously.

The gentlemen hailed Devon heartily and made a space for him at the table. More wine was poured.

Needing his wits, Devon asked for ale. Cards were dealt.

Devon waited. His purpose now was to protect Leah and Ben. He and Leah had discussed the timing of the duel and her pregnancy… but now he wondered how much the ton really knew about events of a year ago? After all, it was common knowledge he and Julian had dueled over Leah, but he did not want to initiate the topic.

They played one hand. Then a second. No one said very much, and Devon caught himself smiling. Men loved gossip, but they hated working for it.

Then Carruthers said, “I say, Huxhold, didn’t know you had tied the parson’s knot. ”Course, we haven’t seen you around and about town for ages either.“

Devon didn’t look up from his cards. “Yes, well.” He shrugged.

“Sorry I grabbed her earlier,” Carruthers said with boozy bonhomie.

“It is forgotten,” Devon answered.

Whelan said, “Carruthers should probably offer an apology to her himself… of course, he hasn’t been introduced,” he hinted.

“That’s true,” Devon murmured.

His answer obviously frustrated them. Scarleton cut to the chase. “Well, when did you get married, and who is the lovely bride?”

It was then Devon remembered Scarleton was a good friend of his cousin Rex. Perhaps if one of the others had phrased the question, Devon would have answered it differently. He realized suddenly that anything he said would be repeated to Rex. Not just to society.
Rex.

Rex and his mother Venetia had long been a thorn in Devon’s side. His aunt had never been a nurturing woman. She had no use for the orphaned Devon, who had stood in the way of her precious son’s inheriting the title. Over the years, her spiteful little digs about his unworthiness to be the marquess of Kirkeby had gnawed at Devon’s self-worth.

With a flash of insight, he realized his marriage would needle her to no end. Especially since she didn’t know about it first.

And so, because he knew it would bother his aunt and because few knew of his whereabouts or business for the last months, Devon answered, “Why do you think I left London?”

“To get married?” Scarleton quizzed him in disbelief. “I thought you left London over that duel with Julian Carrollton. What was that about anyway? Oh, yes, his sister. Good-looking filly. Had Redgrave dancing in circles around her.”

Tension vibrated through Devon.

“What do you believe happened to her?” Whelan asked with a burp as he poured more wine. He handed the bottle to Carruthers.

“Who can say?” Scarleton answered. “With a Carrollton you never know. Ain’t that right, Huxhold? I’d wager glad you put a bullet in Julian. Justice served at last.”

Here it was—the moment when Devon could say
I married Leah Carrollton
.

But he didn’t. He hesitated. Their marriage would be a shock… and not one that people would soon forget. It would forever hover on the edge of people’s minds.

Leah had warned him, and he had dismissed her concerns. He did what he wanted to do, when he wished to do it, and he decided now that he wasn’t quite ready to tell all.

He’d won the two hands they’d played and the less said, the better. Now it was time to leave for the night. “If you gentleman will excuse me?” He rose, tossing his cards on the table, just as the duke of Weybridge entered the room. “Here, Weybridge, you can take my place.”

“But you must let us win our money back,” Carruthers protested.

“I have a better idea,” Devon answered. “My winnings will go to the wine. I’ll send Francis in.”

There had been a time when he would have played cards with them until dawn. But as Devon made his way up the stairs to his room, he realized such pursuits had ceased to entertain him roughly around the time he’d first met Leah.

She was asleep when he entered the room. He started to undress. The fire cast a cozy glow, and, in sleep, she appeared as serene as an angel. And as innocent.

Leah. His wife. She could tear his heart out if he let her. She’d done it once already.

He thought about the answer he’d given Scarleton. Perhaps it was not a bad thing for people to believe Leah had run away to join him. It would make sense and add a touch of romance to their story. The ton loved romance.

It would also lead some people to assume Ben was his child.

He wandered over to the crib. To his surprise, Ben was awake. He lay quietly, as if still not certain where he was or his purpose for being here.

Carefully, Devon lifted Ben up into his arms. The baby startled at his touch and then nestled in against his chest. Love and a strong sense of contentment welled inside Devon for this defenseless child.