Family Scandals (40 page)

“Besides,” he murmured in her ear, “is that how you want to remember your great-aunt?”

“No.” Perhaps that was the best reason of all to forget the letter. Without her aunt’s unconditional acceptance, she had no idea what might have happened to her. And her aunt would have died lonely and alone.

“If you truly want to give Julianna closure, forget the letter and be the friend you insisted she was. The security of her son’s future will be the best thing you could give her. Even if it is done without her knowledge.”

“I know.” She looked up at him. “Thank you.” His answering smile could still cause her heart to turn somersaults.

His hand slid down and settled against her still flat stomach. She smiled as she moved her own hand over his and changed the subject.

“Do you suppose this one will be a girl?”

She felt his lips brush her temple. “Does it matter?” he asked softly. “It will be ours. And by the time it arrives, Douglas will be happy to have a playmate.”

“I hope so.” Truth be told, she didn’t care whether it was a girl or boy, because she didn’t expect it to be the last. Turning, she looked up at him. “We will name her Emily Christine.”

Astonishment crossed his features. “Are you certain?”

She nodded. “I know she did some horrible things, Marcus, but that’s all in the past and it’s over now. She was a wonderful mother to you and Eliza. We will honor that memory and move on. I can’t think of a better way than to have a beautiful little girl named after her grandmothers.”

He pulled her closer, the love in his eyes and awe in his voice confirming she’d said the right thing. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

She slid her hands up his shirtfront and looked up at him mischievously. “You might have said something this morning, but Douglas was being fussy. Perhaps you could tell me again.”

“And again, and again,” he murmured. “At least two or three times a day for the next fifty or so years.”

“I think I’d like that,” she said softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Then she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the magic and wonder of his kiss. Something she would never tire of.

About the Author

A well-traveled military brat, Denise developed a love of history and other cultures during her formative years. Reading came as naturally as breathing and once hooked on romances, she determined to write one herself. Historicals are her first love when it comes to romances, especially the Regency period.

She and her husband live in the western U.S. and have two grown children. They love to travel and their current destination of choice is Germany. Someday she hopes to make it to England to see firsthand the places she has studied and writes about.

Visit Denise on the Web at:
www.denisepatrickauthor.com

Or on her blog at:
denisesden.blogspot.com

Look for these titles by Denise Patrick

Now Available:

The Importance of Almack’s

The Scarred Heir

The Scarred Heart

Gypsy Legacy

The Marquis

The Duke

The Earl

Sometimes, the greatest casualty of war is trust

The Scarred Heart

© 2012 Denise Patrick

Lionel Cantrell has all but given up hope of finding his missing wife and child. He left them in the care of his parents and older brother while he went abroad to fight the French, only to return to a marriage in shambles, a daughter who cannot possibly be his, and his wife and son fled to parts unknown.

Until now. At a former comrade’s house party, Lion comes face to face with the object of his five-year search. Emma, whose cold reception is keenly edged with barely concealed panic.

When Emma’s perfect marriage to her childhood sweetheart crumbled into an unendurable year of humiliation and torment, she had no choice but to take their son—and her sanity—to build a new life under an assumed name. Her chance meeting with Lion threatens to expose long-buried emotional scars. And physical ones, the origins of which he must never know.

Emma’s stubborn refusal to explain why she won’t return home only fuels Lion’s relentless curiosity. So does their undeniable passion. Time is on his side, and his well of patience is deep. But Emma’s trauma runs far deeper…perhaps too deep for love to reach.

Warning: Contains a heroine caught in a treacherous web of deceit not of her making, two adorable children, and a hero determined enough to make things right.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Scarred Heart:

Emma was bored. Seated in a wing chair near the fireplace, she was only marginally aware of the chattering going on around her. Lady Marleton and her daughter, Annalise, sat on a sofa nearby, but those two ladies weren’t interested in including her in their conversation once they discovered she knew no one in London. She didn’t mind. They only seemed interested in the most salacious gossip about people she’d never heard of. She was glad not to have to socialize with them on a regular basis. How did Sarah put up with such empty-headedness?

Setting her cup and saucer on the table beside her chair, she soaked up the warmth of the fire and shut out Annalise’s high-pitched giggle. It wasn’t often she had time on her hands. The last two days had been relaxing and restful. Although she did miss Jamie. He, on the other hand, was likely having too much fun to have missed her much.

“Who’s that?” Annalise’s breathless question caught Emma’s attention.

“I don’t know,” was the reply. “But perhaps we should find out.” Lady Marleton made to rise, but Annalise grabbed her arm.

“He’s coming this way. Maybe Lord Royden will introduce us.”

Emma’s chair faced the two women, who faced the door. Unable to satisfy her own curiosity without bringing attention to herself, she watched the younger woman sit up straighter and paste a bright smile on her face.
Heaven help whoever it is.
She could only hope the man, for that’s surely who had captured the young woman’s attention, was already married or otherwise taken.

“Ahh, here she is,” she heard Lord Royden say. “Mrs. Laughlin, I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

Wonderful,
she thought as the two women looked daggers at her. Rising from her chair, she glanced at Sarah’s husband then at the man beside him.

There was a sudden roaring in her ears as she looked up at the one person she never thought she’d see again. Her heart rate doubled, and she grabbed the back of the chair to keep herself upright. Through a fog, she heard Lord Royden make the introductions.

“Mrs. Laughlin, Viscount Lanyon. He is to be David’s godfather, so Sarah insisted I introduce you.”

Emma could not make herself move. She was aware Lord Lanyon watched her curiously, yet she instinctively knew he was as surprised as she. Her first reaction was to turn tail and run, but a quick scan of the room reminded her where she was and she squelched the impulse. She took a deep breath. Calm. She needed to calm down.

Lanyon bowed. “A pleasure, Mrs. Laughlin.” Did she imagine the slight hesitation before her name?

An automatic curtsy on wobbly legs saved her from having to speak, but not long enough for her choosing. About to stammer out something, she was saved when Lady Marleton unknowingly came to her rescue.

“You must have just arrived, my lord,” she interrupted. Emma knew by the stiffening of Lanyon’s shoulders that he did not want to turn and acknowledge the woman, but manners won out.

As stormy gray eyes slid away from hers, so did the paralysis that had stricken her. Busy gathering her skirts, she did not pay attention to the exchange between them, nor did she realize he’d turned back to her just as she was about to escape, until she looked up again. Lord Royden’s puzzled expression told her all she needed to know about her strange behavior, but she was too aware of the dismay growing inside, and that time had just run out on her freedom.

Sarah joined the small group and addressed her husband. “I see you finally found her.”

He responded with a smile. “Yes. But perhaps we should adjourn to the library to discuss tomorrow’s grand event.”

There was nothing to discuss. They all knew that. Sarah glanced from her husband, to her, to Lanyon, and came to her own conclusions. “A great idea.” She stepped between them and linked arms with Emma, drawing her away.

The cool air of the foyer dumped Emma out of her trance, and she stopped abruptly.

“Is there something wrong, Emma?” Sarah’s concerned voice told her she’d noticed Emma’s unusual behavior. “You’re looking a little pale.”

She took a deep breath and tried to still her trembling limbs.

“I’m just a bit tired. Nothing serious. I think I just need a short rest.” She turned to Sarah. “I’m not used to being around so many people. It wears on me.”

Sarah laughed. “Then ’tis good you have no need for a Season. The incessant partying is fun in the beginning, but I vow by the end of it, you are glad to be headed to the country.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall and panic engulfed her. “Please excuse me, Sarah. I will speak to you later.” Then she turned and fled up the stairs.

In the pretty blue-and-white bedroom she’d been given, she locked the door then collapsed into a chair before the fire. Once the shaking began she could not stop, and the more she tried, the worse it became. Closing her eyes did nothing, as memories rushed at her, breaking down the wall she’d erected around them, overwhelming her to the point of nausea.

“Whore!”

The voice lashed her and she flinched. Even after five years, the memory still had the ability to cause her physical pain. As the past rose up to taunt her, pain sliced through her soul, and she gasped for air as she squeezed her eyes shut. But the tears would not be held back, a deluge she was unable to contain as she relived that April day. The day she’d last seen a pair of cold, gray eyes and the look of shock, disgust and revulsion that accompanied the accusation.

Had she known that he knew Max? The name hadn’t jogged any memory when she first met Sarah, or even before when she’d met Max’s twin brother. Calderbrooke had meant nothing to her when she’d first arrived, beyond learning it was the principal seat of an earl of the same name. She’d been so relieved to have a place of her own. A place to raise her son independently, but still within the protection of her family. She hadn’t looked any farther.

Lion watched Sarah and Emma go. He and Royden followed them moments later, but not fast enough. Sarah was standing in the foyer when the two men appeared. There was a concerned expression on her face as she looked up the stairs. Emma was nowhere to be seen.

“What happened?” Sarah turned on her husband.

“Where?” he countered.

“In the drawing room. I’ve never seen Emma so agitated. Not even when Jamie fell out of that tree and broke his arm was she this upset.” She looked at him, wondering if he had any answers.

He did, but he wasn’t certain he was willing to tell them. Yet he knew he owed them some explanation.

“Let’s go into the library,” Royden said, turning his wife in that direction.

Once there, Max turned to Lion. “Sarah and Emma have become fast friends,” he said, “so she’s a bit over-protective. But”—he turned to Sarah—“blaming Lion is going a bit far.”

“Lion?”

He smiled. “Short for Lionel, my lady. You may call me Lion or Lanyon.”

“I see.” She studied him through pale blue eyes brimming with curiosity. “Then you may call me Sarah.” The grouping of three chairs the men had occupied earlier still sat near the fire. Sarah took one then looked up at him. “So, what did you do to terrify Emma?”

Max snorted. “He did nothing. I merely introduced them.”

Lion noted the skepticism that crossed her face. He didn’t blame her. Emma had said nothing at all, only stared at him through large green eyes in a face devoid of color. She’d managed a curtsy and, if it wasn’t for that busybody, Lady Marleton, might have responded. Her reaction left no doubt she’d been shocked at seeing him.

“I’m afraid ’tis true, my lady,” he said now, “however, I suspect Emma reacted the way she did because I was the last person she expected to see. The surprise, by the way, was mutual.”

“So, you know Emma?” she asked.

His attempt at a smile probably looked more like a grimace. He did and he didn’t. “I have been searching for her for nearly five years,” he explained instead. It was obvious he was in for a thinly veiled interrogation.

“Why?”

He glanced over at Max, who had taken the last chair but not participated in the conversation, then sighed as he turned his attention back to Sarah. Why? There were so many reasons, he didn’t know where to start. Perhaps he ought to just give her the most obvious one.

“Perhaps I just wanted to know where my wife and son were.”

Sarah sat back in her chair and frowned at him. “Emma’s a widow.” He shook his head. “Then why would she say so?”