A Shameful Secret (29 page)

“None of this was of your making,” Richard said. “I was to blame for what happened to you—and I ought to have done what Crawford has done. He saw that the girl was in danger from her adoptive father, and he acted immediately. I sought to bribe you with her future, but you saw through me, Hester. Crawford is the better man. Even today, I would have taken you from him if I could, but he has the girl, and I know you do not care for me enough to come without her.”

“Oh, Richard.” Hester looked up at him, her face stained with tears. “Please do not think that you mean nothing to me. I loved you once, but it was a young girl’s love, and I am no longer that naïve child. Yet, there will always be a corner of my heart that belongs to you, and once Sylvia is with me, I shall be pleased for you to see her sometimes.”

“You are too far above me,” Richard said with a rueful smile. “I have known it for a while, but I hoped that I might somehow win your heart. I know it is impossible. So, what will you do now?”

“I do not know,” Hester said. “I know that Paul must hate me now for leaving him when he lay close to death, but I think he will not deny me my child. If I write a letter to him, will you carry it for me?”

“Yes, if it is your wish,” Richard said and frowned. “But I do not think he will hate you. Why do you not return to him? It is your right as his wife. I am sure that he would understand if you told him what his mother said to you.”

“Charlotte told Robert, and I begged him not to repeat it,” Hester said. “You must give me your word that you will not tell Paul. I do not wish to cause a rift between him and Lady Longstanton. I have done enough harm to that family.”

“Of course, if you wish,” Richard said easily. “Write your letter and I shall deliver it myself.”

“And what will you do then?” she asked going over to the small writing desk to pen a few lines, which she sanded and sealed with wax before handing the letter to him. “Where will you go now?”

“I have a buyer for my estate. I shall go abroad, for I have a few friends and I may live cheaply in some vast, crumbling Italian palace and think myself rich. I would wish for you to come with me, Hester, but I know that you would pine for Sylvia and the man you love.”

“Forgive me. Had you asked me a few months ago . . .” She would have taken his offer willingly to escape from the life that had been hers until Charlotte whisked her away to Bath, but now she knew her heart belonged irrevocably to Paul. “I am sorry, Richard, truly I am.”

“Do not grieve for me,” Richard said and smiled oddly. “I dare say I shall survive.” He moved towards her, hesitating for a moment before bending his head to kiss her softly on the lips. “Forgive me for all I have done to harm you, and think of me kindly sometimes.”

“Yes, of course.”

She stood motionless as he turned and walked from the room, and then she sat down at her desk. For three days, she had done nothing but weep. Now she must begin to write some letters, and there were all the lovely gifts she had received that must be returned. She would make a start by writing to her mother and Charlotte, and then perhaps she and Anna would begin the task of sorting out the gifts that had been packed into her trunks.

“There is a gentleman downstairs who has asked if he may see you, sir.” Paul’s valet looked down his long nose in disapproval. “I told him that you were not yet ready for visitors, but he insisted that you would wish to see him for he has something important to give you.”

Paul was sitting in the wing chair by his window, a glass of brandy and a book on the occasional table at his side. He had insisted on getting up that morning and on being shaved and dressed, even though the pain in his shoulder had almost sent him to the floor. Five days had passed since he was wounded, and he was desperate for news of Hester. His mother’s letter to the Countess of Danbury had been met with no answer, though he knew it was soon enough for a reply to have reached them. His gaze narrowed as he looked at the valet.

“Spit it out then, man. Clearly you disapprove—but you know his name I take it?”

“It is Earl Mortimer, sir. However, as Lady Longstanton said that you were not to have visitors apart from family.”

“Damn that for a tale,” Paul growled, offending his man who had never known his master so out of sorts before. “Fetch him up here, Hernshaw, and be quick about it—unless you want me to come down?”

“That would be folly, sir,” Hernshaw said with dignity. “I shall ask the earl if he will come up immediately. He is waiting for you answer downstairs.”

“Right, good man,” Paul said realising that some sort of apology would be necessary. “I’m out of sorts at the moment. I thought you might have sent him away without asking.”

“I believe I know my duty better than that, sir.”

Hernshaw went away, very much on his dignity, leaving Paul to smile ruefully. He must mind his tongue, for he had never treated his servants with anything other than the same respect they gave him, and it would not do to alienate them.

He frowned over his wine as he sipped it. Not quite what his physician had ordered, but better than the pap they had been feeding him these past days. Why had Mortimer come—and what was he to do if his message was what Paul feared?

He frowned as he heard the footsteps outside his door, quick, impatient, firm, and then a knock and the door was opened by his valet to allow the visitor to enter.

“Forgive me if I don’t get up,” Paul said and indicated a spare chair. “Please, sit down, sir. May I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Thank you, no,” Richard replied. “I am on my way to London but came first to you to deliver this.” He handed Paul the sealed note from Hester. “I promised that I would put this into your own hands, and having done so, I shall not presume on your hospitality.”

“Damn it, Mortimer! You are welcome here. I believe I owe my life to you?”

“Possibly,” Richard replied with a slight smile. He hesitated and then sat in the elbow chair Paul had indicated. “You will be a damned fool if you lose her over this business, Crawford. She is worth fighting for—and she loves you.”

“I am aware on both counts,” Paul replied. “Weak as I am, I should have been on my way to her before now if I had known where she had gone.”

“Ah, I wondered,” Richard said and laughed. “I must tell you that I begged her to come away with me. Had I known where you had taken the girl, I might have held the trump card, for I believe her letter is to beg you to help her see her daughter. She does not expect you to take her back as your wife.”

“Hester knows that I love her. I know why she went and why she stayed away,” Paul said and frowned. “She has been hurt too many times—and she has been made to feel that she is unworthy. I intend to find her and convince her differently, as soon as I am able. I shall travel tomorrow, though this thing has laid me low.”

“If you will take my advice, you will not go until you are recovered. She has no intention of going anywhere.”

“That is neither here nor there,” Paul replied. “I love her, and I cannot bear to think of her alone and unhappy.”

“Then I shall say no more. I am on my way to complete a business transaction my lawyer has drawn up. After that I intend to travel.” Richard stood up and came over to shake Paul’s hand. “I wish you a speedy recovery, Crawford—and much happiness in the future. I shall leave you now, for I am sure that you have much on your mind.”

“I hope that you will find the life you want on your travels,” Paul said. “Thank you for bringing me Hester’s letter.”

“It was the least I could do. We both love her, Crawford—but she has chosen the better man.” Richard smiled oddly, giving him a military salute before walking away.

Once his visitor had gone, Paul opened Hester’s brief note. It begged his pardon for bringing scandal and pain to him, said that she prayed for his recovery and hoped he would help her to find her daughter when he was well again.

Paul frowned over the note for it was written in such a way that it gave no hint of her feelings. He could imagine that she was suffering, but she had held back all emotion. Crushing the paper into a ball, he cursed. Damn Henry Blackwater for what he had done—and damn his mother for being so unkind to his wife!

* * * *

“Oh, Charlotte,” Hester cried as her cousin entered the room where she was sitting working at a piece of embroidery. “I am so glad to see you!”

“My dearest Hester,” Charlotte said and embraced her warmly. “I was not sure whether you would want to see me yet, but Araminta was anxious about you. She did not feel up to making the journey herself, but begged me to make sure that you were not desperate. She had a notion that you might try to kill yourself.”

“No, I shall not do that,” Hester said, smiling sadly at her cousin. “I have never been quite so unhappy, Charlotte, for to have found such happiness only to lose it.” She sighed deeply. “I should have known better than to expect anything. My father warned me.”

“Your father was a bully and a fool,” Charlotte said crossly. “He ruined Araminta’s life and tried to squash you. It was only your strength of character that saved you, my dearest.”

“I think his unkindness taught me to be strong,” Hester said, her throat tight with emotion. “I shall need to be strong now for I must face a lifetime of being alone—though I hope to have my child with me eventually.”

“Do you think that is wise?”

“I do not care whether it is wise or foolish,” Hester said. “My daughter has suffered neglect and unkindness through no fault of her own, and I intend to make it up to her. Richard Mortimer thinks that Paul may know where she is, and I have written to him. I hope that he will reply and tell me where I may find her.”

“You are a brave woman,” Charlotte said. “I admire you even though the path you have chosen would not be mine. However, I do not think you will be entirely alone, for I shall visit and I have already been asked where you may be found by some of your friends. I imagine they might write or perhaps visit when it is convenient.”

Hester nodded though she thought it unlikely she would receive many visits. Perhaps a letter or two, but people soon forgot and she would not be going into society—unless she found some friends in the district. As yet she had hardly left the house. She and Anna had been busy sorting out the wedding gifts that must be returned, though none had been sent for she did not know where to send them. It might perhaps be best to send them care of Lady Longstanton.

“Well, if I have you as my friend, I shall not need many others,” Hester said with a smile. “And if my mother has forgiven me, I am satisfied.”

“Well, I shall stay with you a few days,” Charlotte said. “I noticed that you still have Lady Longstanton’s carriage here—do you intend to keep it?”

“Only as long as I need it,” Hester said. “Once I have my daughter’s direction, I shall go to fetch her, but after that . . .” She broke off as she caught sight of a carriage pulling up in the courtyard outside her small front parlor. “It seems we have a visitor . . .” Her breath caught as she realized who it was. “Paul . . . oh, he should not have come . . .” But her heart was leaping at the sight of him, and insensibly she began to hope.

She went out into the hall feeling flustered as her maid answered the door to him. She had only a few servants at the house, her cook and the housekeeper, who had both worked for Charlotte, and her own maid, though there was a girl who came in early to clean the house—and of course an outside man to take care of the garden. Lady Longstanton’s coachman had walked the horses to the inn for there was no stable here.

“Paul . . . what are you doing here?” she asked as Anna took his cloak, hat, and gloves. “I am sure you should not . . .” She stopped as she saw the ravages of pain and grief in his eyes. “Oh, my dearest, you should not have come yourself. You are not well. A letter from your messenger would have sufficed.”

“I could not bear to think of you alone here,” he said and then saw that Charlotte had come out into the hall. “I did not know you were here, ma’am. I wrote to you care of Mrs. Weston.”

“Your letter must just have missed me,” Charlotte replied and nodded her approval. “I have but just arrived myself. I trust I see you on the mend, sir?”

“I believe I shall be well enough given a few days of rest,” he replied. “Forgive me, Hester, but I think I must ask to sit down in your parlor—and a glass of brandy if you have it would be of help.”

“Yes, of course there is brandy,” Charlotte said. “I shall see to it myself—take Paul and make him comfortable, Hester. You must have a few moments alone while I arrange the dinner for this evening with Cook. It will be pleasant to talk to her again.”

Paul followed Hester into the parlor and sank into a comfortable leather wing chair by the fireplace. The room had been much used in the past and had an air of peaceful serenity. He leaned his head back, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him. The journey had seemed interminable and he was not truly well enough to be travelling.

“You are ill,” Hester said, kneeling by his side. She took his hand, pressing it to her cheek and then kissing it. “Forgive me for leaving you, Paul. I have prayed for your recovery—but you know why I left?”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Yes, I know, and I am sorry you were treated so abominably in my parents’ house, Hester. My mother has realized that she was wrong, and she sends her apologies.”