9781618859594HerDeviantLordPimentel Page 5

  Deep in thought, Cordelia failed to notice that the marchioness had entered. “Dear me, Cordelia. You look affright. Let me have one of the nursemaids take Matthew into the nursery for a bit, so that you may rest.”

  “I could not possibly leave him with someone right now. I may have need to call for a physician.”

  The marchioness walked over and gently squeezed her arm, smiling. “My dear, if you feel you have need of a physician, we shall have ours drop in. Aside from a slight fever, which I suspect is from teething, I think you will be pleasantly surprised to hear that he is healthy. One of the other ladies I have tea with has just gone through the same ordeal.”

  Cordelia sighed and walked over toward the window with Matthew in her arms. The lush lawn, a vibrant shade of emerald, wisped gently in the wind. A bright yellow sun illuminated the rolling hills behind Stoughton Hall. “Perhaps a little fresh air will do us good,” she whispered to the babe.

  “You know, my lady, I think a bout of fresh air is just what I need. Perhaps once I return, I will have a rest, if it is all the same.”

  “Certainly. When you return to the manor, have Duncan call down one of the girls. Oh, before I forget, I have it on good authority that the Earl of Wycliffe will be dropping by today.”

  What? Why would he?

  Her ladyship continued, “From what the cook said—he is in the middle of making preparations for a permanent house guest.”

  Cordelia winced. The man cannot possibly be thinking that I am going to stay at his house. She rolled her eyes, and inhaled. “It matters not what the man is doing. When he finds out he has a son, I am most certain he will change his mind about everything.”

  “What makes you say that? All those times we told you that he was a lost soul without you, did you even bother to listen? That man is nothing without you!”

  “That may be so, but need I remind you that my husband might still be alive, and if he has any inkling that I am as well, the scandal will begin all over again?”

  “You worry too much, Cordelia. Even if your title was restored—which I doubt, as the clod had his stripped—the scandal was his alone. I am not sure what of his estates remain, as I am sure it was all sold off. Besides, I am positive if the man is not yet dead, he shall be soon. Which means you shall be free to marry the earl and carry on with your life, as you intended.”

  “That may be so, but the more I think on it, do I really want to be saddled with a man? I lived for so many years in Richard’s shadow. I do not care to be controlled again.” That is, unless we are talking about in the bedroom.

  Cordelia’s mind wandered to another time when the intrigue of her affair with Bastian was the paramount highlight of her week. In hindsight, she was ashamed of her adulterous behavior, but she would never take it back. Bastian had instilled a passion in her which her own husband could not, even if he tried.

  Enough of those dreadful memories. “You know what, my lady? I think now is a good time for that walk. I could use the distraction.”

  “Indeed.”

  Cordelia swaddled her son, much to his chagrin, and descended the stairs from the guest wing. She heard men’s voices, and then she heard his. She tried to slip out without being seen, but then Matthew began to cry.

  When she reached the final step, the marquess appeared from the parlor. “Is everything alright, Cordelia?”

  “Yes, my lord. I was just about to go for a walk. The fresh air will do Matthew some good.”

  She went to dart past him, but he caught her by the arm. “Would you like to join us for a bit?”

  “And who might be ‘us,’ my lord?”

  “Wycliffe and myself. I am sure the two of you could use some time together.”

  “I appreciate the thought, my lord, but I am in need of the air.”

  His lips formed a thin line, and he shook his head. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Before she could be stopped again, Cordelia dashed out a side door from the servant’s wing. And noticed another coach approaching the house. Ignoring the visitor, she walked until she found a glorious apple tree to sit under. She loosened the blanket around Matthew and found that the child had fallen asleep.

  Perhaps if I close my eyes for a few moments… Cordelia found every muscle in her body relaxing, and her eyes weighed heavily. Just a small nap…

  * * * *

  “Who is Matthew? That is not your son’s name…”

  “No, it is not.”

  “Then whose child is Matthew?”

  “You should speak to Cordelia. The two of you have much to discuss. Besides, ’tis not my tale to tell.”

  Bastian’s stomach flipped. Who does the child belong to? Why is it not it Thompson’s story to tell? What the hell is Cordelia keeping from me? There were too many questions and not enough answers. “Pray, answer me one question. Did I father that child?”

  The sudden possibility that he was a father all this time frightened him. And to make matters worse, he had not been there to assist her or bond with the child. Fortunately enough for him, he could make up for lost time.

  “Bastian, you have to remember that she has been away all this time for safety. What do you think Downsbury would do if he knew his wife was still alive? Even after trying to marry my sister and all. She probably knows by now how deep in scandal he was. From what I understand, she has meaning to talk to you, but the opportunity had not been presented.”

  The marquess paused and rose to pour them a drink. “I can say this, though, from what I know, she may not want to stay in London even after saying her peace.”

  Not that Bastian could blame her, but how could she not mention this to him before? He could not imagine the burden she had carried all this time. Alone, scared, and completely out of her element. She had spent so many of her years in a privileged society, and then all of it had been taken away so cruelly in an accident.

  He would not blame her if his question sent her running back to a village. Perhaps, if she agreed to his proposal then he would relocate to the country. Cordelia could have her peace, scandal free, and he would be happy just to have her, in any way he could.

  “The lady may have wanted to avoid me, but I am going to make sure we talk now. I hope you will excuse me, Thompson? The lady and I have much to discuss.” Bastian approached the door when someone knocked.

  “How funny,” the marquess quoted behind him. “I was not expecting anyone else.”

  The butler opened the door to reveal a very irritated Mary Elizabeth. Her arms were crossed, and she wore a scowl.

  “Christ Almighty!” Bastian grumbled under his breath.

  “Lord Wycliffe, I have been searching high and low for you. I cannot believe for one moment you would cast me aside so.”

  Bastian sighed and shot his friend a weary glance. “I will take care of this. Can you have one of the servants see Cordelia home? Send her on by tonight for dinner. I want to talk first before I am introduced to my son…if he is indeed my son.” The marquess nodded and walked away.

  “Mary Elizabeth, this is not at all proper. You are behaving irrationally! Come away from here.” Bastian grabbed her hand and dragged her back to the hackney. “You called it off, remember? I have no desire to rekindle or revisit our prior arrangement…if one could even call it as such.”

  Bastian opened the door to the carriage, ignoring the protests from the courtesan. Behind him, the coachman protested too, as she had only hired him for one way. He lifted Mary Elizabeth in and slammed the door. Tossing the driver some coin, he returned his attention to the woman.

  “Do not seek me out anymore, Mary Elizabeth. This obsessive behavior is disruptive and not conducive to your line of business. If you do not cease, I will have words with Martine, and I am certain you do not want me to entertain that idea.”

  “My lord, you would deny me of the only thing I want? It is I whom you do not want to cross. This discussion is not over, Basti
an. We will finish it, and soon. Mark my words!” she cried out.

  The earl knocked on the carriage to send it on its way. He pitied the next man that sought her services. On second thought, perhaps it was a good idea to discuss these intrusions with her employer, and the sooner the better.

  Bastian walked around the exterior of the house until he saw his Cordelia under the tree. He walked half way up the hill and wondered if perhaps he could sneak a quick glance at the child. Would Matthew have his dark eyes and small nose? He’d be a handsome devil if he had his mother’s soft, delicate features too. The need to settle his curiosity rolled beneath the surface. For now, my love, I leave you in peace, but you have much to answer for.

  The earl slowly approached the sleeping mother and child. With her eyes closed and shoulders relaxed, she cradled the babe, who stirred in his sleep. He came closer, and when he bent down, the baby opened his eyes, as if instinctually. After he blinked a few times, the bundled up infant puckered his lips and made infantile sounds. He stuck out his tiny hand from beneath the blanket and held it out for Bastian to touch.

  To think, he is mine. Bastian’s heart swelled, and he found himself flooded with emotion. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he could not help thinking how beautifully motherhood suited Cordelia. But then the baby scrunched up his face and wailed so loud, as if to alert all of England that the earl had stumbled across them.

  Cordelia opened her eyes, and even though she appeared surprised to see him, she cooed the child back to calm.

  “I am sorry for disturbing your rest, but the marquess mentioned about something he had to talk to you about.”

  “Oh! Did he say why?”

  “No, he did not. I am curious Cordelia, when did you starting watching children?” he asked quizzically. The last thing he wanted her to know was that he was already onto her little charade.

  “Err… The housekeeper had errands to run, and I-I volunteered. Yes, I occasionally do find it good practice to learn such lessons in mothering.”

  Bastian muffled a laugh. “How about I escort you back? It would be rude of me not to.”

  She nodded and began to walk ahead of him. He had loved the swagger of her hips before, but now that she had filled out from being with child, he could not wait to take her from behind.

  Easy man. You still have a long way to go. First, you have to convince her to marry you.

  * * * *

  Embarrassment washed over Cordelia. What would everyone think of her? Well, not everyone, just a particular earl with a penchant for deviant copulation. The more she thought on the subject, her need to be joined with him again rushed through her. Her desire more intense than anything she had yet experienced.

  If they were even to consider reacquainting their former flame, would he receive her the same way? Much of her body had changed since giving birth to Matthew. Her hips were wider, bottom rounder, and her bosom… Good Lord. Her amiable bounty of a handful had exploded into a corset-busting situation.

  “Slow down, Cordelia. I do not seem to recall this being a race.”

  “No, but if you said that the marquess wishes to speak with me, I should not keep his lordship waiting.”

  “Of course not, but we could use this time to talk as well.”

  “And pray tell, my lord, what is it that you wish to speak with me about?”

  He stopped and faced her. His lips pursed, and his posture rigid. “I wanted to let you know that I have my men out, making inquiries regarding Richard’s whereabouts. There is a distinct possibility he is on his deathbed, but that is unclear. I should know by the day after next.”

  Cordelia’s belly fluttered with eagerness. If she became a widow, and if he still had anything left, it would be hers to do with what she pleased. Matthew would not have a meager childhood, and she—well, she had no delusions that she would be attending any society balls. Her time for ball gowns, masquerades, and fine dining were over. Nevertheless, she would return the kindness Missus Miller had bestowed upon her.

  “Why would you do that, Bastian? What possibly motivated you to make such inquiries?”

  “Why else would I do it, Cordelia? Everything I have ever done for you has always been carefully thought out, and with the best of intentions. Do you think I seek to harm you in any way, with such information?”

  “I know not of what your intentions are, my lord, but I am ever so clear on one thing. Even if he were alive, he has been stripped of title, as have I. My life cannot be restored to its previous state, nor do I have any desire to be thrown upon the unfeeling and wretched lot that the ton is. Should Richard become aware that I am very much alive, I am most certain it will send him into an apoplectic fit.”

  “How could you possibly know such a thing?”

  “Really Bastian, what would be your reaction, after all the wicked things you have done and having been imprisoned in the meanwhile.”

  “I would be shocked, horrified, humiliated, to be seen in such a state.”

  Of course he would.

  The sound of a carriage approached. She watched Bastian crane his head and utter an oath. “For the love of—”

  “Who is that, Bastian?”

  “No one you need to worry about, dear. Run along inside, and try not to keep Thompson waiting.”

  Cordelia found his secrecy and intrigue about the guest fascinating. “No. I think I shall stay.”

  “No! I want you to go inside.”

  “I do not take orders from anyone, least of all you…”

  Suddenly, a woman came barrelling out of the carriage, marching her way toward Bastian.

  “I told you never to return here.”

  “And I told you our discussion is not over. Who is this woman?” Then, the bold, angry pariah tipped her neck to the side, and her mouth dropped open.

  Damnation. I have been discovered.

  “She is the duchess…Downsbury’s wife… You are supposed to be dead!” the woman exclaimed in horror.

  “And you are not supposed to be here. Go home, Mary Elizabeth! I have nothing more to say to you.”

  Cordelia wrapped her arms tightly around her baby and visualized what would happen. By morning, all of London would descend upon Stoughton Hall. She had to get out of here. There was no way she would drag the marquess and his wife’s good name through the mud, as her husband once had.

  Before another word could be said, she ran toward the house. When she reached the servants’ entrance, she frantically ran to her room and began to pack what she could. Meanwhile, Matthew kicked up a fuss.

  In her frantic rush, Cordelia turned to find the marchioness standing by the door, watching her with concern. “Cordelia, what in heaven’s name are you doing?”

  “Leaving.”

  “How come? What happened with you and the earl outside? Are things truly over?”

  Over. No. They are only beginning, and your good name is about to be scandalized once again. “I cannot say for certain, but if I do not leave this instant, all of London will know by morning that I am truly alive and well. Besides, the rest of my business can be conducted from the country.” More like it has to be.

  She should have seen this coming. Sooner or later, a visitor to Stoughton Hall would have recognized her and alerted the ton of her return.

  “Can I not persuade you to stay on?”

  “My lady, while I am grateful for all that you have done, I cannot, in good conscience, allow any more scandal come to this house. You have gone through enough to last many lifetimes, and I will not play a part in it now.”

  Guilt washed over her. Perhaps it was best to leave them all now and forget any of this happened. Matthew and she would survive even on the meager allowance of what she earned selling baked goods.

  “Allow me to help, Cordelia,” the marchioness implored while reaching for the baby.

  “Very well, would you find Davy and Missus Miller and tell them to get ready. That we shall depart as soon as the carriage is ready.”

  “If that
is what you wish. I will take Matthew to the nursemaid, so she can watch him while you make the necessary preparations.”

  When the marchioness opened the door, Bastian’s voice carried up the stairs. She had to hurry. She could not find the nerve to tell him now that Matthew was his son.

  Chapter Six

  “Where is she?” he questioned the servants as he passed them. When he came across Thompson’s wife, he took a step back and inhaled. “She is packing, is she not?”

  Lady Thompson nodded, and then crossed her arms. “If I were you, my lord, I would begin to make up for lost time now. The scandal is not far behind, and she does not wish to impose. I know not of what transpired earlier, but she is scared, Bastian. We have all suffered at the hands of her husband, so I can understand why she wants to return to the country.”

  She is running. Of course she is. But to what kind of life would she subject her son in the process?

  The marquess soon joined them in the hall. “What in damnation is going on? Duncan was just explaining that he was roused out of the garden because of shouting and found a woman being aggressively put into a hackney coach.”

  “Ah! What he saw was me tossing Mary Elizabeth in. She recognized Cordelia, and now Cordelia is upstairs packing, trying to leave with my son.”

  “And how exactly do you know it is your son, and not someone’s that she is caring for?”

  “For Pete’s sake, Thompson, the child has my ears and my eyes!”

  “Well, it certainly took you long enough to figure out what was going on. You are not going to let her leave London, are you?”

  “Of course not. I had every intention of having her return with me to my house. My servants are already making the arrangements, though I had no idea we would be joined by a child.” A surprise he had not counted on, but at least they would both be safe at his house until he knew what to do with Mary Elizabeth. “Thompson…”