“Didn’t you care?” cried Laurette.
Marianna waved a small white hand. “Of course I did. I wanted to be a marchioness, and so I am. My position in society is assured. I have lovely homes and a beautiful son. If Conover had been unattached, I’m sure we would have got on splendidly.” She paused, looking directly into Laurette’s eyes. “I didn’t repulse him, you know. Our honeymoon was everything it should have been.”
Laurette felt ill. Surely she wasn’t going to be miss-ish and faint before her enemy.
“But he was attached.” Marianna extended the same hand she had waved so dismissively. Laurette stared at it stupidly until Marianna took hers and shook it. “I congratulate you. Once he knew I was with child, he never touched me again. Not once.” Her voice sounded wistful. “Despite all my father’s machinations, Conover did exactly what he was required by the terms of their agreement—but no more. When I was safely delivered of James, he disappeared within the week. Didn’t even collect the sum my father was prepared to release to him. I don’t expect to see him again. He may have been young, but he outsmarted us all.”
But Con had been left himself, let down by every adult he had ever known. “I’m sure Con knows you are a good mother.”
Marianna smiled. Her small perfect teeth were whiter than her earbobs. “He thought me a most managing female. And I am. Which is why I invited you here today.”
Laurette’s brows rose in question.
“We can do nothing about the disposition of your daughter, but I can arrange for funds so you can visit her every year. I know if James were taken from me I could not bear it.”
Laurette swallowed, not trusting her voice. Her cousins had not forbidden her contact, and were scrupulous reporting Bea’s every milestone by letter. Laurette sometimes wished they wouldn’t write. Every post reminded her of her emptiness.
“But I shouldn’t like Con to know about Beatrix just yet. Not that I have any way to contact him, he moves about so. I imagine he’d be so angry at my father’s deception that he’d take my son away. And he could. Children belong to their fathers, no matter that it’s Berryman coin that puts the food into Jamie’s mouth.”
For one instant Laurette saw Con striding into the house to take James. It would be what the Berrymans deserved, after plotting to ruin his life. Her life.
But no. They hadn’t ruined anything. Con’s uncle had been the treacherous one. They had just seen a bargain. Marianna
Berryman had restored Ryland Grove and the prosperity of the Conover villages and was raising Con’s son to merit his title.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because, my dear Laurette, we have a great deal in common. And I could use a friend. Those Cobb twins are simply hideous.”
It was not Lord Robert’s wraith but Marianna Berryman who sat beside Laurette on the hillside. Her old enemy-turned-friend. Marianna’s long-estranged husband sat across from her. What would Marianna say to her refusing Con’s offer of marriage and settling for being Con’s mistress? Laurette imagined a sharp-tongued lecture from an entirely practical point of view.
But she could not marry Con. They could never acknowledge Beatrix. Her delayed happiness could not paper over such a hole in her heart.
C
on kept his dark eyes focused on the grass. He had been silent so long she wondered what this difficult subject could be. At last he cleared his throat. “We will not be alone.”
“Of course not. Aram and Nadia will be with us. I know you think you would die if I did the cooking. I have told you over and over I am much more proficient in the kitchen than I was.”
“Stop interrupting!”
“Yes, my lord. I’ve forgotten my place as your mistress once again. I am completely at your mercy. Wherever you wish to spend the time for the duration of our contract makes no difference to me.” She gave him her haughtiest look.
“Damn it! You are making this difficult.” Con ran a hand through his glossy, shoulder-length hair. Good. She liked to discompose him when she could. It seemed only fair when his every touch drove her to complete distraction.
“The children are here.” Only half of his mouth turned up in a smile, revealing his anxiety.
Another blast of wind took his words away, but she was afraid she’d heard them clear enough. “I beg your pardon?”
“James and Beatrix. They’re here. Nico and Sadie brought them last week.”
“What have you done?” she whispered.
“Something that should have been done long ago.” He edged away as if he knew she wanted to get her hands around his neck. “I want us to spend time together. As a family.”
A family!
Something that could never, ever be. The man was indeed the “Mad Marquess” if he thought to throw them together like this and erase a dozen years of heartbreak and betrayal. “Does she know?
Did you tell her?”
Laurette asked, not masking the desperation in her voice.
“No, of course not. I would never tell her without you. Though she’s very sharp.”
“You’ve
seen
her?” Each of Con’s words was worse than the one before. Laurette saw pinpricks of black race across her eyes, felt the bile rise up in her throat—she was going to be sick. Panicked, she thought of cool, rainbowed waterfalls, icy water and fresh snow, but she lost her fight. Despite her efforts to push him away, Con cradled her as she made her mess on the grass, after which he wiped her mouth tenderly with his handkerchief.
He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her some yards away. She was too disconsolate to protest. Con settled her against a small boulder for support and began to pace, making her dizzy all over again. She shut her eyes, but could not shut her ears.
“Last year I asked you to marry me, and you refused. I knew it was too soon after Marianna died—but damn it, Laurie, I’d waited too long to have you. I did not love Marianna—why should I observe a full year of mourning for a woman who was practically a stranger to me?”
“Not such a stranger. She was the mother of your son,” Laurette retorted.
“But I loved you. You don’t know what—well, it doesn’t matter. I asked, and you said no. I was almost,
almost
ready to give up the idea of you—the idea of us—and then I found out about Bea.
“Then your refusal made a kind of sense to me. No wonder
you hated me. I hate me too.” He drew a breath. “But when you forbade me from ever knowing her, I couldn’t bear it. I made it a point to go to her school, meet with her guardians. She’s so lovely, Laurie. Different from you. And me. But she is a clever girl. I want to tell her. I want us to tell her together. I think—”
Laurette leaped up.
“You
think! You
think!”
she shrieked. “No! She’ll be ruined! Everything I’ve gone through to give her a respectable life will be for nothing!” She wanted to tear out her hair. She wanted to tear out Con’s. How could he do something so very stupid? So very selfish?
He reached out for her but she darted away. “Listen to me. I can make her my ward. In the eyes of society, they’ll never know. When we marry—”
“What? We are not going to marry! I will never, ever marry you! I hate you, just as you said!” Laurette tore off her feathered bonnet in frustration, tossing it down the hill. It bounced until it came to rest on a rock. “You have a son. Worry about him. Leave my daughter alone.”
“She is
our
daughter, Laurette. I robbed myself of knowing James, but I will not make the same mistake now that I know I have a daughter. I will not abandon two children. I had hoped that by all of us staying here James and I can make peace. That you can help me with him.”
“I? Your
mistress?
You are absolutely mad!”
“I know he thinks of you as a kind of aunt, Laurie. He mentioned you to me last Christmas, even if you never once indicated that you and Marianna were friends,” he said quietly. “I’ve known all along that you know him. That you knew
her.”
He expected her to feel guilty. Well, she was not. She kept her past quiet for a reason.
“He admires you. Looks up to you.” Con stared off into the distance. “So many secrets. I’m done with secrets, Laurie. Just done. My life has been one long cock-up, but no more. I love you. I love my children. Please give this a chance.”
Laurette clenched her fists and paced at the top of the ridge. Nothing would induce her to go down to that silvergray house now. Nothing. “I am going home. I cannot—I will not—be party to this ridiculous family reunion. Bea is fine as things are. I am her c-cousin. That is all.”
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”
Laurette glared at him, wishing she could wipe away the calm concern on his face. He looked so—hopeful, so understanding. He knew
nothing.
“Oh, you stupid, stupid man. I had to give her up!
I gave my own child away!
Of course I’m afraid. She’ll never forgive me. I can’t forgive myself.” She broke out in noisy sobs and pushed him away when he tried to comfort her. “You’ve ruined everything. Everything. I don’t care about my brother’s debts. Find him and clap him in jail. Toss me out of Vincent Lodge. I’ll become some other man’s mistress.” She hiccupped. “That’s all I’m good for anyway. You have wrecked my life once more, Desmond Ryland. I never want to see you again.”
She turned and stumbled down the hill they’d climbed, tears blurring the limestone outcroppings.
Con caught her as she twisted her ankle and started to fall. He held her until she had no more tears to cry, his shirt soaked through to his skin. Once again he’d handled everything badly. He had hoped she would be happy to have the whole summer instead of one stingy week with Beatrix. And he’d mentioned marriage. Just because it was always on his mind did not mean Laurette shared his sentiments. She couldn’t hate him, though. That would be far too cruel.
“You did plan everything, didn’t you?” she asked fiercely. “From bringing down my brother to corrupting Beatrix. You cannot have what you want this time, Conover.”
He felt the muscle jump in his cheek. “I’ve never had what I wanted!”
“You could have said no to Mr. Berryman.”
He almost had. He had been given the bare bones in London
when he went hat in hand to Mr. Berryman’s bank a dozen years ago, learned more as Berryman accompanied him back to Ryland Grove. Like a fool he thought he could perform miracles and avoid the inevitable. But the crops failed, and the vise squeezed, and the details of his future had been written on bank draughts for a decade. Con remembered his despair as if it were yesterday. He’d had to sign his life away that day. A life with Laurette. But at the young age of nineteen, he could see no other way.
He was filled with resolve now, and an urgent need to explain himself, if it were remotely possible. Con dropped his arms from her shoulders. “And then where would my tenants have been? Two whole bloody villages!”
“You picked your poison, my lord.” Laurette wiped her face with a shaking hand. He had never seen her so angry. And she was right, in her way. They could have run off together all those years ago. But could he have lived with his selfishness? Could she? He pulled her to him again.
“Listen to yourself, Laurette. You’ve forgotten your part in this. One word from you and I would have left Marianna at the altar. One word. A sigh. I kept hoping you’d say something, do something. But you were silent then. You knew I was doing the only thing I could do. Your strength gave me mine so I could go through with it.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I didn’t know then about Beatrix.”
“Nor did I, my love. And I only know now because of your friend Marianna. You never would have told me.” He watched the flame cross her pale cheeks. “She did us both a surprising kindness, writing that letter. She must have hated me for leaving her and James.”
Laurette shook her head. “She loved you.”
“Impossible. I didn’t bed her for much more than a month. I barely spoke to her, escaped every chance I got. I was a very poor husband, I assure you.”
“It didn’t matter. She told me herself she was quite besotted. She even admired your pride.”
“My pride has cost me my son.” Con released her and set to do his own pacing. “We cannot, no matter how much we wish to, change the past.”
“Nor can we go back to it, Con. I will never marry you.”
He stopped. “Why?”
“I am not that heedless girl anymore. You are not that innocent boy. Think what you have done to bring us to this place, Con, and tell me you are not the most ruthless of men.”
“What would you have me do, Laurie? Pretend I don’t love you?”
“If you loved me, you would not have threatened me with such disgrace. You’ve made me your mistress.”
“Only because you would not have me any other way—”
“I might have. Once a suitable period of mourning had gone by. Once we had come to some agreement about Beatrix.”
Con wondered at her. She looked so calm now, her fair hair rippling in the breeze. She’d always been beautifully stubborn. She’d avoided him at every turn this past year, fixing her sea-blue eyes just to the right of his ear when they were thrown face-to-face. Slipping through a doorway once she’d discerned he was present. Embedding herself in a circle of gaggling women as ruffled protection. If he had been patient, could he have won her over? It seemed to him he had been patient too long already. He’d been robbed of her for a dozen years.
He swallowed back his infamous pride and looked into her face. “Tell me what I should do, Laurette.”
“I scarcely know. You say the children have been here a week?” She sat down on the hill again, worrying at the creases in her skirt with her gloved hands. Con longed to tear off the gloves, tear off every bit of clothing and take her under the
wide sky. This was no time for his lust to overtake him, however. He nodded.
“They were passing friends from Bea’s summer visits. Not close, really. They must think this arrangement very odd. What have they been told?”
“Only that their holiday would be spent in Yorkshire rather than Dorset. That construction was being done on both our properties and as neighbors I had invited you and Beatrix to join me here. And it’s true. You know Vincent Lodge is at sixes and sevens at the present. There’s always something that needs doing at the Grove and I’m doing it.” He sat down beside her again and began to uproot long blades of grass.