Authors: Annette Blair
“It won’t hurt after a couple of days,” Cecile said. “And it’s easier with each child.”
Justin paled. “Each child!”
“Don’t look at me as if I have two heads, Justin,” Cecile said. “It’s never as bad after the first. I had a hard time with Faith, just like today, and here I am the mother of eight.”
“I vow, Mama, it was harder on Justin than it was on me.”
Cecile howled. “Men like you to think that, but don’t you believe it.”
Dressed for the day, Justin kissed Faith. I’m going to speak to Harris,” he said. “He was damned fidgety when I saw him last.”
Faith could barely keep her eyes open. “He was like that when I saw him the other night, too. I swear he was as sad over your absence as I was. See if he’s all right.”
“I’ll not be long. Rest.”
Faith drifted back to sleep as he watched.
He found Harris mending a fence beside Jeremy.
“Congratulations, your grace, on the birth of your son,” Harris said. “Or should I say, for being alive.”
Justin glanced at Jeremy. “Walk with me,” he said, not leaving Harris any choice but to follow. “The boy doesn’t know our scheme. Only Faith’s parents and the vicar who married us know the truth. As far as anyone else is concerned, I’m Justin Reddington.
The whole county went to Justin Devereux’s funeral.
Harris told Justin about reading his death notice in the Gazette and of his shock at seeing him.
“I’m sorry, old friend, that Faith’s note didn’t reach you. I thought you were jug-bit when you swooned.”
Harris winced. “Had enough of that to last forever.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, what’s our next step in this grand scheme of cross-purposes and crooked answers?”
Justin grimaced. “To bring this deadly business to a close. When Faith is well, I’d like to return with you to London. It’s time to get Grant and Marcus to help smoke Vincent out, and maybe even Gabe, too, if your vicar and my friend’s up for it.”
As Justin walked Faith into the garden one beautiful late summer day, she realized that his fear of losing her must finally have begun to ebb after all these weeks.
“I’ll be back for you in an hour,” he said. “Don’t move from this spot.”
“We’ll be fine, won’t we, angel,” she asked their son.
After Justin left, Faith played with Brian until he fussed, then she put him to her breast. If not for Vincent, this time in their lives might be perfect. That he wanted Justin dead was more frightening than ever, because they were a family now.
Brian fussed as he nursed and Faith realized he must sense her anxiety. So she closed her eyes to concentrate on the beautiful day, the sun, the breeze, and her son’s tiny hand on her breast.
“Faith. Sweet Girl!”
The unfamiliar exclamation shattered Faith’s peace. “Mr. Hemsted!”
But he looked more stunned than she. “Miss Wickham. I had no idea…that is to say, you have a child. How can that be?” The foolish question echoed in the silence, and his face reddened.
Faith covered herself with Brian’s blanket. “Do sit, down.”
He took the bench opposite. “Max, please.” Despite his best efforts, his eyes kept straying toward Brian, suckling noisily. “Your child is young.”
“Seven weeks today.”
“You’re well?”
“Quite robust, actually. What brings you to Arundel?”
“You.” He coloured again. “I’ve been worried about you since you left Killashandra. Now I can see my alarm was not unfounded. I guess when you care for someone, your instincts sharpen.”
He cared for her? “Why do you feel your worry is justifiable?”
To Faith’s chagrin, he knelt on one knee before her and took her hand. “My dear, Faith.” He kissed her fingers. “You must be most unhappy.”
“Why must I?”
“Poor darling. I have respect for your stoicism in these circumstances, but fate has taken a hand, and I couldn’t be happier.” He looked at the cloudless sky, as if seeking wisdom, then he gazed adoringly at her. “What I wish to ask, I do not ask lightly, nor is it something that has just occurred to me. As I said, I have been thinking of you for months.”
When Faith tried to speak, he held up his hand. “Let me take care of you and your child. Marry me, dearest Faith, and make me the happiest of men.”
“Oh, but—”
“Please say yes. If not because you care for me, yet, then do it for your son. An illegitimate child is…I would call him mine. No one need know the circumstances of his birth.”
Faith touched his hand. “You do me great honour, but—”
“Your son needs a father. I would be good to you.” He lowered the blanket and gazed at Brian, touched his cheek. A tender gesture. “I’d be good to both of you.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to hurt him.
He stood to pace. “Did the swine who deserted you leave you in disgust of men? Tell me you were not…hurt,” he begged.
She stood and went to him. “My child was conceived in love, Max. We’ll be fine. Offer marriage to someone who can love you in return. It is my wish for you, my friend.”
“Friend is not the word I would choose.” He put his arm around her, Brian between them. “Let me give your child my name. Let me give his mother my love. You would come to love me, for I could show you such gentleness, bring you such pleasure.”
He made to kiss her, but she turned her head. “I cannot marry you, Max. I’m sorry. Please try to understand.”
“But your son is a bastard.”
“My son bears his father’s name, my husband’s name.”
“And that name is….”
“Devereux—”
“Vincent!”
“Reddington! Justin Reddington is my son’s father.”
Hemsted reacted strangely, as if taken by surprise. He shook his head. “Reddington, you say?”
“Yes. Seeing you made me think of Killashandra and my patient, Justin Devereux, and I misspoke. I met Justin Reddington there.”
Hemsted’s smile was enigmatic. “Indeed. And how did you manage to marry while at Killashandra?”
“Justin is…a Devereux cousin. From America. He came…to Killashandra when Vincent was in France and, and—”
“When did you marry?”
She should have let him think her child a bastard. She should not be trying to set his mind at rest. “What matters is that we are married, though the fact is not known to many.” She touched his arm. “I ask you to keep our secret, Max. Can you? For me?”
“I’d do anything for you, Faith.” He kissed her before she could react…and Justin entered the garden.
When he saw them, he stopped—walking and smiling.
Faith went to him and took his arm. “Justin this is Mr. Hemsted. He’s in the employ of Vincent Devereux, as was I.”
“As you still are,” Hemsted said, wary, guarded, a man of affairs once more. “You have his niece. Or do you wish me to take her with me now? You have your own child after all.”
“No!” Justin and Faith said in unison, with too much adamance, Faith was afraid.
“We love her like our own,” Justin said.
“Yes,” Faith agreed. “It would be terrible to uproot her again. She loves the baby. We’ll keep her until his grace returns. Then, perhaps, we can discuss it. What do you think, darling?” The taut muscles beneath her hand told her Justin was furious.
He nodded. “I promise you, Mr. Hemsted, Beth couldn’t be in better hands. Now, if you will excuse us, my wife needs to rest.”
“Certainly. Good day to you sir. Faith.” He walked away, but turned back. “If you pardon my saying so, Reddington, you don’t have an American accent.” His departing smile looked cryptic.
Justin removed Faith’s hand from his arm. When the sound of carriage wheels heralded Hemsted’s departure, he took her arm to steer her forward, but not in his usual, loving way. He didn’t speak until he closed their bedroom door. “He was kissing you!”
“He was saying good-bye.”
“Are you on such intimate terms then, that he should need to kiss you good bye.”
“Just listen for a moment—”
“Tell me.”
“Justin, I—”
“I said, tell me. Everything. Damn it!”
Faith’s eyes filled with tears. Now he would never trust her. “He came into the garden while I was nursing the baby.”
“What happened?”
“He thought that Brian was a bastard.”
“And?”
“And I told him I was married, and he wanted to know the name my son bore—”
Justin’s stance went on alert. “And you told him Reddington.”
“I said Devereux at first, but—”
“Faith!” Justin’s anger had never been so focused, so resolute.
“When I said Devereux, he thought Vincent was Brian’s father. I said that I made the mistake because seeing him reminded me of Killashandra and my patient.”
“Is that all?”
How could she say Max asked her to marry him? Justin was already jealous. After Catherine, who could blame him? “That’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Justin—”
“For once, I thought…Never mind, I should know better by now. He’ll go to Vincent with this.”
“He won’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I asked him not to. He promised he’d keep our secret.” Justin’s laugh was cruel. “As I said, you’re a child. You know nothing of the world. Secrets, my dear, beg suspicion.” He shook his head. “You trust too easily, Faith.”
“And you trust not at all.”
“And which of us do you consider more the fool?”
Faith raised her chin, for she could not speak past the lump in her throat.
“Try to rest,” he said as he left the room.
Faith lay on their bed and let her tears fall.
Justin was leaving today, and Faith experienced a dreadful foreboding, one she couldn’t shake.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he bent to kiss Brian, asleep in her arms, then Beth snuggled against her.
Faith imagined her dread must be visible for him to address her in other than anger for the first time in twenty four hours.
“I’ll not be away long, and no one will recognize me. I’ll be posing as a servant at my London house. If there’s an emergency, send a note to this inn outside London, care of Grant St. Benedict.”
Justin placed a quick, chaste kiss on her cheek, making her want to cry for what they’d lost. “I’ll not stop worrying till you’re back, safe.” She didn’t know what hurt more, their coming separation or this painful breach between them.
“I’d worry less were Hemsted ignorant of our marriage,” came his oft-repeated phrase.
“I told you, I corrected my error. Hemsted thinks you’re Reddington. And he promised to keep our secret.”
“Vincent’s man promised to keep our secret.” Justin’s chuckle was not a pleasant sound.
“He won’t tell Vincent. I’m certain.”
“You must have reason to believe him. Was it his flowery compliments?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“His charming smile convinced you? Or was it that kiss I saw?”
“Stop it, Justin!”
He lowered his face to hers. “Or was there something that happened the night I went to my parents’ apartments?”
“He cares for me,” she shouted. “He loves me!”
Justin’s head snapped back as if she’d slapped him.
Beth and Brian began to cry.