Fortune's Folly - The Confessions Of A Duchess Part 18

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

BY THE TIME Laura had rubbed the horse down, stabled and fed her, she had started to feel a little better. The stifling guilt that had gripped her when Dexter had spoken so gently about Hattie had ebbed a little.

She wondered if she might have given a different answer to Dexter's proposal if he had said that he loved her. She had loved him for four years and she was in love with him still but she knew that he did not feel the same. He desired her but that was not the same as love. And Dexter was, at heart, deeply conventional. The heat of his l.u.s.t for her drove out the more conservative elements of his behavior but he was struggling against it all the time. She did not want to be married to a man who fought against his attraction to her rather than celebrated it. One day he might actually succeed in conquering it. Nor did she want to be in another marriage where her husband required nothing more than for her to conform to his ideal of proper behavior. She had already done that and she had not buried Charles in order to do it again.

She thought about telling Dexter that she had borne his illegitimate child out of wedlock. Knowing him as she did now, she could see that he would regard Hattie's parentage as yet another reason why they should wed and regulate yet another irregular situation that had occurred between them. He would be proposing because he wanted to do the right thing but also because it would make matters neat, tidy and appropriate. It would be the responsible thing to do, to provide for her and for his child. It would fit his notions of proper behavior.

She sighed. She had not denied him knowledge of Hattie because she did not want to marry him but because she was fearful that Dexter's absolute conviction of what was right, that very inflexibility within him that had led him to pursue her relentlessly for the truth, would mean that he wanted to acknowledge Hattie openly. She was afraid that he could not compromise nor understand her reasons for wanting to preserve the fiction. She was afraid that he would not understand her reasons for wanting to protect Hattie.

She strode through the front door of The Old Palace to find Alice Lister in the drawing room with Hattie on her knee, the two of them reading The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes.

Alice looked up and smiled. "Good morning, Laura. I came to make sure you were quite well this morning."

"That was very kind of you considering what I put you through last night," Laura said, feeling a little inadequate. "I am so sorry, Alice. I am sure that you were most dreadfully shocked."

"Not really," Alice said serenely. "That is, yes, I was somewhat taken aback but I had observed from the first that you had a partiality for Mr. Anstruther. And you must not forget, Laura, that I was not always a debutante heiress. When I was a servant I saw things that would shock you to the core."

Laura bent to kiss Hattie's head and her daughter reached up and wrapped her fat little arms about Laura's neck and buried her face in her hair.

"Mama smells like a horse," she announced.

Laura laughed. "Thank you, darling. You are quite right, I do. I need to change my clothes and have a wash and then when I am clean why don't we play with your doll's house?"

"I want a papa for my doll's house," Hattie said. Her hazel eyes were bright as they fixed on her mother's face. "I only have a mama and a Hattie. I'd like a brother and a sister, as well, if you please."

Laura felt a hard lump in her throat. Her eyes met Alice's. Her friend made a sympathetic face.

"Papas and brothers and sisters are not always easy to find, darling," Laura said.

"My fault, I'm afraid," Alice said in an undertone as Rachel took Hattie upstairs to the nursery to set the doll's house up. "Hattie told me that because her papa had died, she was not allowed to have another one. When I explained that sometimes one's mama might remarry she said that that was splendid and that she wanted another papa of her own right away."

For a moment the lump in Laura's throat felt so excruciatingly tight and hard that she could not speak.

"I am sorry," Alice said anxiously. "I thought that if you were to accept Mr. Anstruther's proposal..."

"I understand," Laura said.

"But you refused him," Alice said, watching as Hattie disappeared around the corner of the stair, clutching Rachel's hand and chattering to her about the exploits of Little Goody Two-Shoes.

"Yes," Laura said. "I cannot wed Dexter, Alice. There are reasons..." She sighed. She wished that her friend Mari Falconer were there to confide in. Mari was the only one who would understand. Mari knew all about Hattie's parentage and Charles's threats to expose her and Laura's absolute fear for Hattie's future.

"Dexter said a great deal about how he had to marry me because it is the only way to have me in honor," Laura continued.

"How vastly romantic!" Alice said.

"But then he also implied that it was against his will and his good sense and there was no rational reason for feeling as he did. Truly, Alice-" Laura threw herself down into a chair "-he is pompous and pigheaded and a stuffed s.h.i.+rt of a man who wants a conformable wife and a well-ordered life-"

"So it is as I suspected all along," Alice said, a twinkle in her eye. "You are in love with him. I thought that you must be. I did not imagine you would take him as your lover if you did not truly care for him."

"He reminded me of my late husband Charles!" Laura said crossly.

"Dear me, the worst possible insult you could pay a man, so I understand!"

"Except," Laura swept on, "that I cannot understand how a man can kiss like Dexter does and make love like he does and yet be so determined to be boring!"

"Hmm. You are definitely in love with him," Alice said. "How amusing that you are so cross with him."

"Well, what difference does it make if I am in love with him?" Laura demanded. She pulled off her hat and cast it aside with a sigh, running a hand through her tumbled hair. "It is over, Alice. I cannot marry Dexter and I cannot have an affaire with him because Miles will kill him if I do and anyway, you are right-I am not the sort of woman to have scandalous love affairs. Not really. I have Hattie to think of before I take Dexter as my lover and ruin my own reputation and my daughter's future."

"A pity, when you care for him," Alice said, "but I can quite see that you are not cut out for a life of scandal, Laura. And as for marriage, well..." Her perceptive brown eyes scanned Laura's face and she smiled. "If you tell me that you have good reasons for refusing Mr. Anstruther then I believe you."

"I do," Laura said. "And I should certainly not be speaking of such matters with you, Alice, no matter your worldly experience. I cannot believe we are having this conversation! Your mama would be appalled." She sighed. "I am a terrible influence for a dowager d.u.c.h.ess. Oh, I feel blue-deviled."

"And playing at happy families with Hattie will not help," Alice said sadly.

"I suppose not." Laura sighed again. She went upstairs to change. She could hear Hattie talking to Rachel about the people who lived in her doll's house, the mother and father, the two boys and two girls...

I want a papa for my doll's house and a brother and a sister...

Laura sat down a little heavily on the edge of her bed.

Hattie wanted nothing more than to belong to a family and Laura's heart ached to deny her. She thought again about deceiving Dexter over Hattie's parentage and tried fiercely to ignore the customary deep ache of guilt it roused in her. She had acted for the best of reasons. That had to be good enough.

DEXTER HAD BEEN FIs.h.i.+NG all afternoon. The quiet run of the river and the cold mist rising from the water had soothed his mood a little but there were matters that still troubled him.

Most infuriating, most galling, was the fact that Laura had refused his offer of marriage. He had thought she might reject him and had been so certain he would feel nothing other than relief to be free to marry another heiress. Instead he had felt a white-hot, possessive fury that knew no bounds. So then he had been determined to persuade her in order to deal with the pa.s.sion that was between them in a sensible manner. Yet still she could not be persuaded. All of which meant that he was frustrated and dissatisfied and aware that there were matters keeping them apart that he did not understand. He disliked unfinished business. One of the reasons he was generally so good at his job was that he was utterly relentless.

He was walking back to the Morris Clown Inn across the water meadows when he heard the sound of voices. The evening sun was low on the horizon and he put up a hand to shade his eyes. He could see Laura and Alice down by the water's edge, playing with a small girl who was bowling a hoop through the gra.s.s. The child was running after the hoop and laughing and Dexter could hear her calling excitedly to her mother.

He realized that he had never seen little Lady Harriet Cole before and he paused for a moment to watch as Laura scooped her daughter up in her arms and spun her around until they were both dizzy and collapsed together in the gra.s.s. Dexter smiled ruefully. It felt strange seeing Laura playing with her daughter, to see her utterly unguarded. He felt the same tug of emotion he had felt when she had greeted Miles with such pleasure that first night at the a.s.sembly. He felt an outsider looking in. In some way that he did not understand but knew was not remotely rational, he was aware that he wanted that sense of belonging and he wanted it with Laura.

Hattie was giggling with excitement. Dexter could hear her laughter on the evening air as she scrambled to her feet and made a grab for the hoop. Her bonnet had come off and the last rays of the sun were s.h.i.+ning on her hair and illuminating her face like a clear-cut silhouette. Her hair was as black as a raven's wing, curly and strong, springing from a miniature widow's peak on her forehead. Even though she was only young there was an intentness in the lines of her face, a determination and sense of concentration as she bowled the hoop along. Dexter had seen that expression before.

His heart turned over. His breath seemed to stop in his throat.

Alice had seen him now. She half raised a hand in greeting but then she must have seen the look on his face because she let her hand fall back to her side. There was apprehension in her eyes and she said something to Laura. A stillness came over Laura and her smile faded. She scrambled up and started to hurry after her daughter, the meadow gra.s.s whipping about her skirts.

"Hattie!" Dexter could hear the note of fear in her voice now. "Hattie! Wait!"

Hattie ignored her. She rolled the hoop right up to his feet and Dexter put a hand out automatically to stop it. Hattie tilted her chin up so that she could look at him-another gesture that was so familiar to him that his heart clenched-and he dropped to one knee in the gra.s.s beside her so that they were on a level.

"h.e.l.lo!" Hattie said. Her eyes were wide and fearless, hazel like Laura's own. Dexter felt something twist within him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dexter," Dexter said.

"My name's Harriet," Hattie said, "but you can call me Hattie." She looked from Dexter to the fis.h.i.+ng line lying in the gra.s.s beside him. "What have you been doing?"

"Fis.h.i.+ng," Dexter said.

Hattie smiled. It felt to Dexter as though a fist had closed around his heart and squeezed so tightly he thought he would die.

"Mama and I go fis.h.i.+ng," Hattie said. "I catch things in my net. Then we let them go. Did you catch anything?"

"No," Dexter said. His voice was husky and he cleared his throat. "Not this afternoon."

"Good," Hattie said. "When you do you must let them go." She smiled again and Dexter's heart did another painful flip. "I like you," Hattie announced.

"Hattie..." Laura had reached them now and picked Hattie up, whisking her protectively from under Dexter's nose. She sounded out of breath. She held Hattie tightly, defensively, as though she thought Dexter would s.n.a.t.c.h her away. Her eyes were scared. Hattie was the only one who had not sensed the tension between them for she was laughing, the same intent look on her face as before, as she twisted in her mother's arms and pulled at the ribbon holding Laura's hair back. It spilled from its confinement, settling in a russet halo about her face in the sunset. Laura brushed a few strands back with fingers that shook.

Dexter got slowly to his feet. A huge tide of anger welled up in him as he looked at Laura. He had never felt anything like it before, not even when she had sent him away from Cole Court like a whipped dog. He felt hot, furious and on the edge of losing control.

He kept his voice as steady as he could for Hattie's sake.

"I think," he said, "that there is something that you forgot to tell me when you were being so honest with me last night."

Laura's hazel eyes were wide and terrified as they met his across Hattie's oblivious, down-bent head.

"How did you know?" she whispered. "She does not look like you and no one would ever have told you-"

There it was. No denials, no prevarication, no apology, no excuse. Other people evidently knew about his daughter whilst he did not. Dexter's mind reeled as he tried to grapple with the implications.

"Who knows that she is mine?" he asked harshly.

Laura looked dazed. "Her G.o.dparents, Nick and Mari Falconer. And I think Miles suspects, though he has said nothing..."

The rage exploded in Dexter so violently he was afraid of what he might do. The Falconers were friends of his. Miles had been, too, until Dexter had seduced Laura and forfeited Miles's good opinion. He looked at Laura as she stood there holding his child.

"We cannot talk about this now," he said. "Not in front of the child." He dragged in a breath. "I will call on you in one hour. Be there."

Laura's chin came up. "I cannot. Miles is joining us for dinner-"

"Then get rid of him," Dexter said. "I mean it, Laura."

He was afraid that if he stood there much longer his control would break and he would say something in his distress and anger that he would later regret. He was afraid of what she must see in his face. He had never before known such terrifying lack of control. He turned away without another word but when he reached the gate he looked back. Alice, who had been hanging back out of earshot, an unwilling observer, had taken Hattie's hand and they were walking away toward The Old Palace. Hattie had stopped to pick some of the late marguerites that starred the meadow. Her excited little voice faded away.

Laura was still standing where he had left her, her gaze fixed on his retreating figure. The fury, the pain, the utter agony scalded Dexter, turning his insides to a seething ma.s.s. He was astonished that anything could hurt so excruciatingly. He thought of Laura keeping from him the truth of his daughter's existence and of Hattie bearing the name of a man he despised. Laura had fed him nothing but secrets and lies. He had thought that everything had been laid bare between them but even then she had held back. He had started to trust her again but she had never had any intention of trusting him with the truth of his daughter.

He felt something snap within him. He had always tried to use sense and reason to protect him against such excesses of emotion. Now that protection was gone. The hurt roared through him again and he knew he had to stem it before it ripped him apart. There was only one thing he could do now and as soon as he thought of it he felt better, calmer, more controlled, rational again.

He had to insist that Laura married him.

She had refused his proposal that morning but now there was a child involved. He closed his eyes and the images of his own childhood danced against the lids: the bewilderment on the faces of his brothers and sisters as they heard the gossip about the Anstruther miscellany, the scars that all the scandal had laid on his heart and the way he had tried to ignore the hurt, the endless doubts about his parentage and whether he was truly his father's son.

He would insist that he and Laura wed. Hattie would be part of his family then. She would be officially his stepdaughter but he would make her true parentage known to her as soon as she was old enough to understand. By marrying Laura he could make everything right and bring some order out of this chaos. He would claim them both as his own.

He would have Laura as his wife and the wild pa.s.sion that had led to the birth of their illegitimate daughter would at last be under his control. All would be ordered and calm again. For a moment he wondered how he could live with Laura now when she had hurt him so badly, but once again his calm logic came to his rescue, telling him that it need make no difference. What mattered was that he should be in control of the situation. And he would be. Everything would be well.

WHEN LAURA REACHED HOME the house was quiet. Rachel had taken Hattie upstairs to the nursery for supper. Alice had left a note on the hall table that she would call on Laura the following day. Laura's eye fell on a small gla.s.s vase of marguerites drooping on the windowsill. She swallowed a lump in her throat. She went into the library, poured herself a gla.s.s of brandy and drank it down like medicine. She hated the spirit but it revived her, steadying her shattered nerves and calming the racing beat of her heart. Suddenly she felt exhausted. She sank down into a chair and put her head in her hands.

How had he known?

She was sure that none of the people who knew about Hattie would have told Dexter about his daughter. Even if they disapproved of the secret Laura was keeping, they would never betray her or place Hattie's future in jeopardy. Did someone else know the secret of Hattie's parentage? Icy fear crept along Laura's skin to think of it. Was someone watching and waiting, stirring up trouble, ready to expose the past? She could not bear to think of her daughter in such danger. But if no one had told Dexter, how could he have known?

She had never seen Dexter so angry. She had seen his fury, his disbelief and his pain etched so clearly on his face. It had shaken her to the soul because she knew he was a man who sought to protect others, not to harm them, and yet he had looked at her as though he wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt him. She had been so afraid when she had seen the rawness of accusation in his eyes. Afraid of what he might do to her, afraid of what might happen to Hattie now that her father knew the truth.

Laura raised her head and stared through the window at the dark closing in outside. How had she expected Dexter to feel? Shock must be the least of his emotions. She tried to imagine what it must be like for him to discover so suddenly and so shockingly that he must have fathered a child. It was impossible to guess the depth of his pain and betrayal. She had hurt him badly, beyond forgiveness. The fact that she had done so for Hattie's sake would not make Dexter's pain any the less. She could only hope that she could explain it to him and make him understand.

The long case clock in the hall chimed the hour of five. Laura straightened her shoulders, stood up and smoothed her gown. She needed to change. She needed to send a note to Miles. And Hattie would be waiting for her to share nursery tea. She hoped she did not smell of brandy. Despite her distress, she had no desire to appear as one of the gin-swigging mothers of a Hogarth drawing.

She had less than an hour until Dexter would call. The clock ticked down the seconds and she felt full of panic. She had so little time and no idea at all what she was going to say.

LYDIA WAS ANXIOUS. She picked at her food and scanned the guests at Sir Montague's dinner table for the twentieth time that evening even though she knew that her lover was not present. She had not seen him that day except for a brief moment when she had caught sight of him deep in conversation with another man at the pump rooms. He had looked through her, cut her dead as though she were of no importance, and Lydia had felt crushed even though she had told herself that it was all part of their secret. She tried to comfort herself with memories of the endearments and a.s.surances he had heaped on her after they had made love the previous night at the masquerade ball, but now that memory distressed her, too. She wondered if she had run mad to allow herself to be seduced in the moonlight. It had seemed so romantic at the time and she loved him so much that she had given herself to him with no thought for the consequences. But now for the first time she felt a chill. He had not said anything about meeting again. Only the warmth of the ring he had given her, as it rested between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s on its gold chain, gave her some rea.s.surance.

She toyed with her iced fruit until her mother put out a hand and s.n.a.t.c.hed the spoon from her grip. It fell onto the table with a tinkle that sounded loud in the sudden silence.

"Stop fidgeting!" Faye Cole's whispered hiss seemed to echo from the walls. "Really, Lyddy, what is wrong with you tonight? You are drooping like a wet lettuce!"

"There is nothing wrong, Mama," Lydia said. Faye was particularly cross with her today, having witnessed her dance with her lover at the masquerade the night before. She had badgered and badgered Lydia for his name and when Lydia had pretended not to know what her mother was talking about, Faye had actually thrown a hairbrush at her. Fortunately it had missed but Lydia had known that her mother's temper, always unreliable, was now on a knife's edge.

"Then smile!" Faye hissed. "Smile and look as though you mean it or you will never catch a husband!" She accompanied the words with a rictus grin so wide Lydia thought it would not have looked out of place on the Guy on the bonfire.

Lady Elizabeth shot Lydia a sympathetic look across the table. Lady Elizabeth, Lydia thought bitterly, would never tolerate such treatment. She wished fiercely that she had the sort of spirit that had prompted the ladies of Fortune's Folly to defy Sir Montague's Dames' Tax. Her parents had insisted that she come to Sir Montague's house and accept his invitations, all in the interests of marrying her off, when in her own heart she wanted to be as rebellious as Lady Elizabeth. But there was still time...

She stood up and pushed back her chair. "Excuse me," she said to the table in general. "I do not feel quite well."

Faye looked up, astounded. "Lydia! Come back here! Come back, I say!"

Lydia walked to the door with her mother's scolding tones ringing in her ears. A footman opened the door for her and she walked through with a word of thanks and no backward glance. The pa.s.sageway outside was empty of servants for Sir Montague kept as small a staff as he could in order to save money. The pa.s.sage was cold because the door to the courtyard was open and Lydia could hear the faint sound of men's voices talking.

As she drew closer, her evening slippers silent on the stone flags of the floor, the conversation ended and a man came through the doorway and into the shadowed pa.s.sage. Lydia stopped.

"It's you!" she said. "Oh, where have you been? I have been wanting to see you all day-"

He was at her side in a single step, his hand grasping her arm tightly, silencing her. "Hus.h.!.+ I am not supposed to be here."

Lydia realized that he was dressed for the outdoors in a heavy black cloak. He smelled of fresh air and wood smoke. Her head spun at the scent of his skin and the memories it evoked of the previous night. The urgency in him held her quiet and excited her, too.

"But why not?" she whispered. "You live-"

This time he silenced her with a kiss. It was blissful. Her head spun all the more.

"Did you see anyone else?" he asked when he let her go. It seemed like an odd question to Lydia but she was feeling so distracted from the kiss that she barely questioned it.

"I thought I heard you talking to someone," she confessed, "but I was not sure."