A Scandalous Marriage (12 page)

The truth in her words filled her with indescribable sadness. She was scarred. And yet, for her son, she must be strong.

He was waking. His body gave a small jerk, and his eyes came open almost as if he still wasn’t certain where he was and why. He was so beautiful that her heart wept for him.

“He’s worth it,” she said to herself. “Worth more than any sacrifice.”

“He’s hungry,” Devon said flatly.

“Yes, and he needs me.” Tears blurred her vision. “Old Edith has been schooling me about babies. Of late, she’s been a better mother to me than my own. And what’s so sad is that at one time, Mother and I were very close.” She looked up to him. Devon had stepped back, deeper into the shadows. She wanted to reach out to him. To ask his forgiveness. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

She waited.

The silence was deafening.

It was the baby who broke it. He began crying, his body shifting restlessly. He wanted to eat.

Devon spoke. “Feed your child.”

Before she realized what he was about, he reached for his coat and jacket heaped on the table and opened the door. A blast of cold air blew through the room. Devon stepped out into the night, shutting the door tightly behind him.

Leah felt as if someone had squeezed her heart into pieces.

But then, what had she expected? She’d been the one to send him away.

“But you came back,” she whispered, staring at the closed door. “You came back.”

Old Edith spoke. “You’d best pay attention to what is at hand.”

Leah turned to her. “You heard?”

“Enough. Do you think he’ll return?”

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t returned when she’d sent him away after the duel.

Old Edith sighed, the sound filled with the weariness of the world. “The past is gone. You must look to the future now, missy. Do as he said, feed your son.”

Leah did as she was told, but as her son suckled at her breast, tears rolled down her cheeks.

Old Edith patted her head as she walked by. It was a motherly gesture, meant to console. “If it wasn’t meant to be, lass, then you must let it go.”

Leah cried harder.

The next morning, Adam charged into the cottage with youthful goodwill and little warning. “Did she have the baby?” he shouted at no one in particular.

Old Edith growled at him. “Where’s your manners? It was a long night. Stay in this room,” she added, in case Adam had visions of bouncing in to see Leah.

A second later, the curtain flapped open as Old Edith joined Leah, who was having an impossible time of changing a newborn’s nappy. “Here, you need to make the knot looser in the future or you’ll have to cut them off,” she advised Leah. “I’ll be off to the parish this morning and get some more for you from the poor box.”

The poor box.
Leah tried not to let it bother her. Accept change, she reminded herself. Be bold.

Forget Devon. He’s forgotten you.

On the other side of the curtain, the ever cheerful Adam was building the fire back up. “It’s wet and cold and a bit muddy outside but no rain,” he informed them.

Old Edith grunted. “Winter.” She shuffled toward the sitting room. “I could use a cup of tea.”

Leah nursed her son. Both she and the baby were getting better at this. Then she dressed.

Adam pushed back the curtain just as she’d started combing her hair with her fingers. He’d been doing that a lot lately, invading her personal privacy. She tried to be good-natured about it. He looked at the baby lying in the middle of the bed. “Boy or girl?”

“A boy,” she said softly. She began quickly braiding her hair, tying it off at the end with a piece of lace she’d saved from a blouse she’d sold.

Adam shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m glad he’s all right.”

“Thank you. I am too.”

“Leah?”

“Hmmm?” She picked up her son.

“Will you marry me?” Adam’s words came out in a rush. For a moment, she thought she hadn’t heard him correctly. She hadn’t
wanted
to hear him correctly.

“Please, Leah.”

In the other room, Old Edith stared with wide eyes. Her gaze met Leah’s. There was a hint of laughter there. She had to know that Leah was panicking.

And yet, Adam was offering her a solution. He was a good man. He probably would have trouble earning a living after the miller threw him out for rejecting his daughter, but there were other things he could do—except one. He didn’t inspire in her passion or love.

She knew she would never be able to give him that, and it would ruin his life.

She smiled sadly. “Adam, you honor me with your request.”

“Then you’ll say yes?” he asked eagerly.

“I can’t.”

His eyebrows came together. “Why not?”

“Adam,” she started, but how could she explain without hurting him more? He had been kind to her. A champion when she’d had need of one.

The front door burst open. Mrs. Pitney made a dramatic entrance. She was followed by her sister Lisbeth and her sister’s husband, a dull man named Hugh.

“I hope I’m not too late,” Mrs. Pitney declared. “You haven’t asked her to marry you, have you, Adam? You haven’t thrown aside all your chances for a decent marriage because of
this
woman?”

Adam’s face turned a beety color of red, and even Leah felt heat spread across her cheeks. Old Edith grinned.

Manfully, Adam said, “I asked her, Mother. I’d be
proud
to have her as my wife.”

“It would kill me,” Mrs. Pitney responded. “Kill me!” she repeated, turning to her sister and her husband, who made commiserating noises.

“I love her, Mother.”

Leah cringed at Adam’s declaration. She sent a helpless glance toward Old Edith, who shrugged. She could not save her.

“It is
your
fault!” Mrs. Pitney accused Leah in ringing tones. “He was always biddable until he met you.”

That description did not please Adam. He stepped forward to defend himself. His aunt Lisbeth jumped in with a few choice words of her own about “foolish young men.” Meanwhile, the baby decided the world was way too noisy. He began to cry.

Leah wanted nothing to do with any of it, especially as Adam attempted to shout both the women down.

She picked up the baby blanket lining the cupboard drawer and covered her child to protect him from the cold air sweeping in through the still open front door.

She should leave. Mrs. Pitney wouldn’t let her stay anyway. Perhaps the vicar and his wife would help her find a new situation.

Suddenly, Mrs. Pitney gasped so loudly that she quieted everyone. She motioned to her son and relatives. “Hush! Hush! Look who has arrived! Why it’s the earl, right here at my doorstep.”

Leah peeked around the others, who stood crowding around the doorway. Sure enough, the earl of Ruskin’s finest coach rolled into the small barnyard. The bold red and green of the Ruskin colors stood out against the burled wood. A red-and-green liveried coachman drove the matched set of high-stepping bays.

Leah had met the earl several times in London. She’d been living with Mrs. Pitney for a month before she’d realized who owned the land. A confirmed bachelor, Rusky, as his friends called him, wasn’t one to mix with debutantes. He and Devon were fast friends and chummed around together at sporting events and the like.

The coach door opened. Mrs. Pitney was already making a curtsey, the ribbons on her black bonnet quivering with excitement. But instead of the amiable Rusky alighting, Devon climbed out. He wasn’t wearing a hat, since he’d left it in the cottage last night along with his wool greatcoat. Climbing down from the coach after him were the vicar and his wife.

Mrs. Pitney and the others stepped back from the doorway. Leah discovered herself in the forefront of the small crowd, holding her baby protectively in her arms.

She wished she could run and hide too.

Devon looked as if he’d spent the entire night up. His hair was disheveled. He hadn’t shaved. His sharp gaze honed in on her.

Leah’s heart beat an anxious tattoo as he took one step and then another toward her. He stopped when there was less than a hand’s width of distance between them.

“Benjamin,” he said, his deep masculine voice rolling the syllables.

The name was unfamiliar to her. “I’m sorry.”

“You told me I could name the baby. I’ve decided to name him Benjamin Marshall, after my grandfather.”

Marshall.
Devon was giving his surname to her son. He was claiming him as his own. She was speechless, but Old Edith wasn’t. She gave an unreserved Scottish whoop for joy.

“Exactly as I suspected,” Mrs. Pitney declared. She turned on her son.
“Now
will you believe me? That baby is nothing more than a Huxhold by-blow.”

Leah would have corrected her, but Old Edith grabbed her arm, warning her to silence.

Instead, Devon said, “The vicar has a special license.”

“To marry us?” Leah asked inanely.

“Yes,” he replied with all the sangfroid of one who has just been asked whether the cheese pleased him.

Vicar Wright was more kindly. “Lord Ruskin insists we keep one at all times at the vicarage. As a bachelor, he claims life is uncertain and wishes all options available to him. I’m sure he will be more than happy to let his good friend Lord Huxhold use it.”

Leah faced Devon. She saw no emotion in his hazel green eyes. “You don’t want to marry me.”

A flicker of irritation crossed his features. “On the contrary, I have returned to marry you.”

At one time, such a proposal would have been her fondest dream. Now, it filled her with uneasiness.

Vicar Wright intervened in his soothing parson demeanor. “Lord Huxhold has explained everything. My wife will serve as a witness, and perhaps you will witness, too, Mrs. Pitney?”

“Yes!” she replied enthusiastically even as her son stepped forward with fists clenched.

“Tell him you don’t want to marry him, Leah,” Adam said. “Tell him I love you.”

“You don’t know what love is,” his mother snapped.

“I know I don’t feel anything for the miller’s daughter,” he answered, a comment that sparked a response from both Lisbeth and her husband. Everyone in his family wanted him to forget Leah. Vicar Wright and his wife attempted to make peace while Old Edith cackled in glee at the nonsense.

It was Devon who restored order. Calmly he checked his pocket watch. Closing the case, he tucked it in his watch pocket and said in a commanding voice, “I must be on the road in fifteen minutes. Leah, do you wish to marry this puppy?”

Adam took offense at the description. “I love her,” he declared nobly.

“Yes,” Devon answered, “but you can’t support her. And I will not let Ben lead the life of a yeoman.

Good God, man, can’t you see she was bred for better things?”

“It’s her decision,” Adam insisted stubbornly. “I won’t let you bully her.”

Devon didn’t like that comment. His jaw tightened even as Mrs. Pitney grabbed her son’s arm and attempted to pull him back. “Adam, watch what you say. This is Huxhold.”

Leah stepped between the two men, her sleeping baby still in her arms. “Stop it before one of you says something that can’t be taken back.”

“Tell him you wish to marry me,” Adam begged. “He can’t just sweep you away.”

“Adam,” the vicar said, “this is Miss Carrollton’s decision.”

“But he will take her from me,” Adam said. “I won’t let him without a fight.”

Gently, Leah said, “I can’t marry you, Adam. You deserve more than what I can give you.”

“Yes!” Mrs. Pitney agreed. “That is what I have been trying to tell him.”

“It’s because he’s a lord,” Adam accused her bitterly.

“It is because he’s the father of her
bastard”
his mother countered.

Anger shot through Leah. How dare the woman attack her son! She stepped forward, but Devon took charge. “I advise you to leave immediately, Mrs. Pitney.” His eyes snapped with a fury Leah had never seen in him before.

“But it is my house,” the woman said.

“Then I’ll run your son through and we’ll call ourselves even.”

He said the words so pleasantly that it took everyone a moment for the implication to sink in. Vicar Wright began making placating noises while Mrs. Pitney and her relatives pushed Adam toward the door.

But Adam wasn’t ready.

“Leah, I love you.”

“But Adam, I don’t love you.”

Those blunt words were hard to say because she knew they would hurt him. He had saved her life, and she would have given anything to spare him pain—but she had to be honest.

Everyone froze, uncertain what to do or say.

Adam acted genuinely surprised. He stood a moment, stiff and awkward, before suddenly turning and running out of the cottage. His relatives followed, his mother calling his name and making promises about the miller’s daughter.

“Well,” the vicar’s wife said in the silence that followed, “that matter is settled.”

“Yes, it is,” Old Edith agreed without remorse.

Vicar Wright nodded absently and then said, “Um, I believe we can get on with the marriage ceremony then.”

“No,” Leah answered. “Devon, I must talk to you.”

“
After
we are married,” came his firm reply.

“No, now. In private.” She could be as obstinate as him.

“There are few private places in this cottage,” he responded reasonably.

“In the bedroom,” she answered and walked in there, expecting him to follow, which he did.

She waited until he’d dropped the homespun curtain in place. Through the room’s only window, winter sun flooded the room with gray light. It suited Leah’s mood. She was conscious of movement on the other side of the curtain door. She knew Old Edith would eavesdrop and probably the vicar and his wife, too. Well, there was naught she could do for that.

However, Devon had the same idea. He ripped back the curtain and caught the eavesdroppers, who scurried to the other side of the room with red faces. He dropped the curtain back in place.

“You can’t marry me,” she said in a quiet voice, coming directly to the point.

“You didn’t like the name I chose?”

“The name?” she repeated, puzzled, and then frowned. “Benjamin is a fine name. But I don’t think your grandfather will be pleased.”