Pleasures of a Tempted Lady (16 page)

“They’re preparing a luncheon for us,” Will murmured. “It should be ready shortly.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Meg said politely.

They left the kitchen, and Will led them through the simple but elegant entry hall, where they deposited their coats, hats, and gloves, and down a short corridor that ended at three closed doors. Will opened the first one.

“This is my office and library.”

It was a compact space, reminding Meg of Will’s quarters on the
Freedom
. A large mahogany desk occupied the center of the room, with two narrow, high windows behind it—the ones she’d seen from outside, Meg realized. To the right of the desk, a large bookshelf teemed with books. There were relics of life at sea everywhere: compasses, clocks, thermometers, and even a sextant sat on one of the shelves. Paintings of ships lined the walls—Will’s ships, Meg realized. The room smelled of a not unpleasant combination of old leather, musty books, and salt. Holding on firmly to Jake’s hand, she smiled at him. “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.” Will hesitated. “I spend quite a lot of time in here.”

“I can imagine,” she murmured. He’d always been a hard worker. Ultimately, she wasn’t at all surprised he’d made a name for himself in the London shipping industry.

They moved on to the next room—a dining room brightly lit by the late-morning sunlight streaming through the bow window that faced the street. The dining room table was of the same mahogany as Will’s desk, and surrounded by six chairs, and a marble fireplace dominated one of the walls.

After they left the dining room, Will led them into the drawing room. It wasn’t as grand as her brother-in-law’s, but it was elegant and simple, in Will’s style. A large window draped with elegant blue-striped curtains dominated one wall of the room and looked over a blue silk sofa and two chairs facing the fireplace. A plastered nautical motif—shells and dolphins—had been carved in the recessed square in the ceiling.

After Will saw her and Jake seated on the sofa and went to stoke the fire—something Lord Stratford always relied on servants for, she’d noticed during the past few weeks—she said, “Everything in this house reinforces your independence and your love of the sea.”

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Does that bother you?”

She shook her head. “Not at all.” She hesitated. “I was always ambivalent about the sea. I was surrounded by it for most of my childhood in Antigua, but then it took me from my family. During the years on Caversham’s ships, it was my prison, but it was also very much a solace.”

Indeed, even sitting here now, within the blues and whites of this room, and inhaling the faint salty smell of the ocean, she felt comforted.

“I understand.” Brushing his hands, Will rose to his feet just as someone knocked at the door. “Come in.”

It was a maid. She bobbed a curtsy and then asked, “Are you ready, sir?”

Will hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. Bring him in.”

Meg glanced inquisitively at Will, who kept his focus on the maid until she closed the door behind her. Then, slowly, he turned to her, his face suddenly awash with anguish.

He glanced at Jake, who was fidgeting beside Meg on the sofa, and then looked at Meg. “I fear I’ve done this all wrong,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I should have told you… warned you. Prepared you… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Jake scurried off the sofa and walked to Will, his hand in his mouth. “It’s looser now, sir.”

Will blew out a breath and looked down at Jake. “Is it?”

“Will you pull it out for me?”

Will’s eyes widened. “I don’t think it’s quite ready for that.”

“Meg said when it’s very, very loose, we can pull it. It’s verrrrry loose.”

Will wiggled Jake’s tooth. “Well, I’m not certain, lad. I think it’ll be a few days yet before it’s ready to go.”

“I want it out. Now.”

Meg stood, mild alarm growing within her. Jake was prone to tantrums, though he’d learned it was no use to have them among people like his father and his men. But he’d been obsessed with losing his tooth for a few days now, and he was growing impatient.

“How about this?” Will said. “When we arrive in Lancashire, at Mr. Harper’s house, we’ll pull it then. It can be our celebration of our arrival.”

Jake’s blue eyes widened. “You’re going with us to Lancashire?”

Will smiled. “I am.” He glanced at Meg, his brows raised as challenging her to deny it.

She wouldn’t deny it, though. She’d already grown to like the idea of him being with them in Lancashire. She had to admit it was mostly for selfish reasons—the truth of it was, she wanted him close.

Maybe, just maybe, she could let go of her distrust and fear, and believe that Will did want to marry her—not the memory of her, but
her
. Perhaps she didn’t need to be so afraid of Will taking over that place in her heart that Jake possessed. Perhaps they could both reside there; they could both be safe and happy there.

In the past few hours, the seeds of hope had begun to sprout within her.

The door opened, and the maid stood there with a boy—a year or two older than Jake and several inches taller.

The boy grinned. “Papa! You’re back!”

He rushed at Will and threw his arms around Will’s middle. Awkwardly, Will patted his back while he gazed at Meg, a raw sort of apology in his eyes.

Papa
. She’d been a fool. Will
did
have a family here in London.

“Thomas,” he said in a low voice as the maid retreated, “these are my friends. Miss Donovan and Jake. Miss Donovan, Jake, this is Thomas. My son.”

“Good afternoon, Thomas,” Meg said. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Jake just stared at Thomas, who turned in Will’s arms and stared back.

“How old are you?” she asked him.

He flicked a glance at Meg before returning his gaze to Jake. “Seven,” he said sullenly.

“I see.” Seven? Good Lord… Will had gotten a woman with child not long after she’d fallen overboard, then. Pain lanced through her, but she kept herself steady, doggedly keeping her gaze off Will. “Jake, darling, can you tell Thomas how old you are?”

Jake didn’t move from his position on the sofa. Meg knew he wouldn’t answer, so she answered for him. “Jake is six years old.”

“Hullo,” Thomas said.

Jake frowned at him, and Meg smiled at Thomas. “Jake hasn’t known very many other little boys,” she explained.

“Why not?” Thomas asked.

“He’s been on a ship most of his life. There were no other boys there.”

Thomas looked intrigued. “A ship? I like ships.” He glanced at Will. “My papa is the captain of a ship.”

Jake scowled.

“He says someday I will be a captain, too. Right, Papa?”

“That’s right,” Will said. “If that’s what you wish to be.”

The way he looked at the boy with such a gentle expression—it made something clench deep inside Meg. Once, she had believed she’d be the mother of Will’s children. But this handsome child was proof that that wasn’t to be.

“Papa bought me a fleet of model ships to play with, and big tubs that I sail them in,” Thomas said. “Would you like to play with them with me?”

Jake’s expression didn’t change, and he didn’t answer.

“Where are your ships?” Meg asked Thomas. It was miraculous that she was managing to hold a conversation, because the gears in her mind felt like they were whirring at a thousand miles an hour.

“They are upstairs, in my bedchamber. Papa created an entire ocean for them up there!”

Meg raised a brow at Will. “Well, that’s something I’d certainly like to see. May I join you?”

“All right.”

“Jake, would you like to see Thomas’s ships?”

Without breaking his frown, Jake nodded.

They all went upstairs, Thomas leading the way. When he opened the door to his bedchamber, both Jake’s and
Meg’s eyes widened. “Goodness!” Meg exclaimed. “It is like an ocean.”

A wide, deep trough ran along two of the walls. Several small replicas of ships floated in the calm waters. One looked very similar to the
Freedom
.

Will cleared his throat and gestured toward one end of the trough. “There is a drain leading from the bottom to the sewer. We drain and fill it often to keep it clean.”

“It’s amazing,” Meg said. What little boy wouldn’t love to have such a wonderful toy?

Jake pulled away from her and strode to the
Freedom
replica with purpose in his step. Cautiously, he reached out and touched one of the canvas sails.
“Freedom,”
he whispered.

“Yes!” Thomas exclaimed. “That’s my papa’s newest ship!”

Thomas went to stand beside Jake, and as he began to point out the features of the
Freedom
, Meg watched Jake relax. Even though her pulse still fluttered unevenly and unshed tears stung behind her eyes, something inside her softened. Jake needed to make friends.

Will and Meg stepped back and watched the boys as they grew more comfortable with each other. After about a half hour, when Jake was captaining the
Freedom
and Thomas another of the ships, Will murmured, “Shall we return to the drawing room?”

Meg hesitated. Jake was likely to panic if he found himself alone in a strange place without her, yet he seemed more than happy at the moment. “Jake,” she said, interrupting his order to his imaginary sailors to haul up, a command he’d heard thousands of time in his short life, “would you mind very much if Captain Langley and I returned to the drawing room?”

“I want to play,” he said.

“You may continue to play, but we’ll be downstairs. All right?”

“You’ll be here?”

“Yes, I’ll be here in the house. Just downstairs.”

“All right,” Jake said simply, and went back to his maneuver.

Meg nodded to Will, and they returned downstairs. As they neared the drawing room, a maid intercepted them and told them that luncheon was ready.

“Do you think the boys are hungry?” Will asked.

“I think they’re likely to play till sundown without one twinge of hunger.”

“Why don’t we eat first, then have a maid bring a tray up to them?”

“That sounds fine,” Meg said.

Will nodded, then opened the dining room door for her. He held out one of the chairs for her to be seated in, then he took the chair beside it, at the head of the table.

The servants quickly cleared away the two extra places that had been set, and Meg registered the fact that Will had planned to eat with the children. She knew from experience that many upper-crust families segregated the children and the adults at mealtimes, and she’d never understood that practice. Her family in Antigua had always eaten together—it was something their father had been adamant about.

“How can ye be a family in truth,” he’d ask in the Irish brogue all of them had loved, “without discussin’ yer day at the table?”

Their mother hadn’t complained about this practice, because it gave her the opportunity to teach her daughters
excellent table manners, a task she took very seriously. After their father died, their mother had become stricter and she’d grown even more convinced that her daughters needed to be raised to be aristocratic ladies. Nevertheless, eating together as a family was one practice she’d never abandoned.

The meal was light: a mix of breads, cheeses, and two soups to choose from. As had become their practice, they ate in silence. Meg wanted to speak. There was so much she wanted to say, to ask… And perhaps it made her a shrew, but there were certain accusations tumbling around in her mind, and she had to bite her tongue not to snap them out at Will.

“You must have many questions,” Will said quietly. He wasn’t eating, she realized, just watching her with sad eyes.

She jerked her head up to face him and swallowed hard. “I do.”

He pushed away his plate. “I should have told you sooner, but it never seemed the right time. We’ve had so many other things to discuss, to work out. But I couldn’t keep him a secret from you, Meg.”

“I can tell you’ve been a wonderful father to him. He seems like a very well-adjusted child.” Each word felt caustic on her tongue.

“No. I have been a very poor father. I didn’t see him at all until a year and a half ago.” He looked down at the table. “I’ve been attempting to make it up to him ever since.”

“Ah.” She supposed that explained the extravagant ship models and ocean upstairs.

“Fortunately, though, he had a good fatherly role model to look up to before I came into his life. Stratford.”

Meg’s eyes went wide. “My brother-in-law?”

“Yes.”

“Who is the child’s mother?”

“I should tell you the whole story, from the beginning.”

She nodded.

“I fear it will make you hate me.”

The food suddenly felt like a lump of coal in her stomach. She was unable to answer, unable to guarantee that she could never hate him. Could one love someone and hate them at the same time? Perhaps, she thought. If she could name the contradictory feelings roiling inside her right now, those two words might appear.

She, too, pushed away her plate.

Will sighed, seemingly resigned. “Come into the drawing room with me?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice as thin as her composure.

He helped her from her chair and then followed her to the drawing room. She took one of the blue armchairs, avoiding the sofa because she didn’t want to risk him sitting beside her.

From the first moment she’d recognized him after all these years, she’d tried to distance herself from him. First it was for his own safety, and she’d failed with that. Then it was because she felt they were strangers to each other after all the time that had passed. Now, she realized she didn’t really know this man, and perhaps she never really had. The Will she’d known had been so constant. Never—not for one second—would she have second-guessed his fidelity.

Before he sat, Will poured two brandies and handed one to her. She took it but set it on the small carved wood table beside her chair without taking a sip.

Nursing his own brandy, he began to speak.

“After you left London with Serena eight years ago, I was due to go to sea with the Navy. However, at the last minute it was discovered our ship required repairs and our departure would be delayed by at least a month.