Rexanne Becnel (25 page)

She counted the weeks backward once more; then counted the months forward. March. By next March she could very well be a mother. It was a terrifying thought. If she’d ever courted disaster before, those times were absolutely nothing compared to this.

And yet in the midst of all her terrible trembling fear, the tiniest glimmer of joy glowed. A baby. Growing in her. Marshall MacDougal’s baby. All the loneliness of these past few weeks, all the regrets, all her unhappy yearning to see him again—all of it seemed so much easier to bear if she indeed had his child growing inside her.

“Oh, God. You are going completely mad,” she muttered, turning face down in her disheveled bed. “Completely out of your mind.”

Forget joy. Think about the reality. Becoming pregnant without benefit of a husband is the ultimate ruination
.

As if in confirmation, an image of Estelle Kendrick forced its unwelcome way into her mind and she shuddered. Was it the birth of her fatherless child that had turned Estelle into such a bitter and unhappy woman, one who desperately sought the attention of every man she laid her eyes upon?

Yet even with his unfortunate mother and the unfortunate circumstances of his birth, Adrian was still a wonderful boy. Despite his struggles and the mistakes he’d made, with Neville and Livvie’s help Adrian was certain to grow into an honorable man.

She rolled over again and faced the darkened ceiling. If she should be with child, she would have to go away. She could not stay here, nor return to London. She would have to go away when Neville & Livvie returned from Glasgow and raise her child alone. For she could not allow the stain on her reputation to taint her blameless family, especially her innocent niece and nephew.

But her problems in the future were less important than her problem right now. Should she try to send word to Marsh?

She sat up, feeling as if she were going to jump right out of her skin. How she wanted to follow him, to reveal her suspicions to him. She wanted to say,
I love you. Please come back from America and marry me
.

But she could never do any of that. Marsh’s true name was Byrde. If he were to come back to Kelso, it would create an impossible situation for her family. A disastrous situation.

And anyway, he was gone. He was probably somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, eager to return to his old life without all the problems he’d left behind in Scotland.

Besides, she didn’t know for sure if she was breeding. Perhaps her monthly courses were simply late. Perhaps.

Too restless to remain in her bed, she rose and slipped on her wrapper, then made her way downstairs, running her fingers along the wall to guide herself through the dark and silent house. It was cool outside, but that didn’t deter her. Nor did the rough gravel beneath her bare feet. At that moment even her clothes felt too confining. Something in her felt a driving need to break free, to burst out of the confinements of her life.

She stood in the open court before the manor house and stared around at the lumpy shadows that were house and stables and fences and shrubs. Behind her a dog came up barking. But once it recognized a familiar scent, the animal sniffed her ankles, whined, then, when it was plain she had no food to offer, ambled back around the side of the house, leaving her alone once more.

But then, she
was
all alone, she acknowledged. Alone with the same problem Maureen MacDougal and Estelle Kendrick and innumerable other women through the ages had faced. She laughed out loud. At least she had the wherewithal to live without prostituting herself or going into service. At least she could make a modest home for herself and her child. A modest, decent sort of life.

That knowledge was small comfort, however. Suddenly the darkness that surrounded her seemed terribly intimidating. Hunching her shoulders, she turned back for the house.

Marsh watched her go. He couldn’t make out her features or any other aspect of the slender figure in the front court, but he knew it was Sarah. Who else but his passionate, imprudent Sarah would wander the grounds by moonlight, charming old dogs and bedeviling sleepless men like him?

He watched her disappear into the dark mouth of the house, and clenched his lips against any impulse to call out to her. He’d come here to see her; he’d been given this unexpected opportunity to do just that. Yet he found himself unaccountably petrified with fear.

Beneath him his horse pawed at the dusty ground. From beyond the house the dog came out again, barking at this new disturbance in the night.

Slowly Marsh wheeled his animal around. The dog’s barking grew louder, like an accusation, and it echoed long after Marsh had left Byrde Manor behind.

Bastard, bastard
, the baying seemed to say.
Bastard
.

Though he might not be a bastard in fact, the truth was, in his heart where it counted, he
was
a bastard—and a coward. No better than his father, who’d used a woman for his own selfish needs, then left her alone to deal with the consequences. That’s what he’d done to Sarah.

He would never be able to give her back her innocence. But he could return her money to her. And he could also wait a little longer until she
had
to know the truth about a child.

And then?

And then, if she bore a child of his, he could marry her. No matter the consequences and the ties that would then forever bind him to his bastard of a father’s family, he would marry Sarah Palmer.

That was the least he could do.

“S
ARAH
!” Olivia burst into Sarah’s room and, without letting her rise from the chair where she dozed, enveloped her in a fierce hug. “Oh, Sarah. When Mrs. Tillotson told me you’d been here in the Borders for over a month now, I could hardly credit it! The letter you sent me in Glasgow must have gone astray.” She pulled away, then cocked her head to one side and studied her younger sister with a narrowed gaze. “That’s assuming you actually did write to me.”

Sarah was much too happy to see her older half-sister to withhold the truth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated, holding tight to Olivia’s hands. She drew her to sit in the adjacent chair. “I should have written to you, and I feel terrible for deceiving poor Mrs. Tillotson. The truth is, Mother sent me here in disgrace for plotting to run away with some fellow who turned out to be truly awful. I needed to prove to her—and to James—that I could manage my life better than I had heretofore been doing.”

She smiled sheepishly at Livvie’s wry expression. “I know. I know. You’re thinking I’m just as reckless as I ever was. But I’m learning, Livvie. I really am. And I’ve changed. I’m not a silly little London miss any longer. I’ve outgrown all that.” She squeezed her beloved sister’s hands. “And I’m so very happy to see you.”

They stared at each other a long, telling moment. “Finding you here is such a treat for me,” Olivia said. “Though I shan’t be surprised if there’s quite a bit more to your story than you’ve yet revealed, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about that later. Come. I want you to pack up right away and move over to Woodford Court with us. Neville’s at home, huddling with his steward. But the children are downstairs with Mrs. Hamilton, and they’re both eager to see you.”

She paused and once again cocked her head. “Are you well?”

Sarah forced a wide smile. “Of course I am. Oh, I didn’t sleep so well last night, so perhaps I look tired. Do I? But come,” she hurried on. “I’m simply dying to see the children.”

“Meanwhile, the maid can pack you up.”

It was swiftly planned and swiftly executed, and within an hour they were on the road to Woodford Court.

Really, it was all to the good, Sarah told herself as they crossed the River Tweed and made the turn toward Olivia and Neville’s impressive country estate. As much as she loved Byrde Manor’s rustic charm, that house held too many memories now. Especially in her upstairs corner bedroom, the one where Marsh had come to her the night after he’d been shot. The night they’d made love.

An unwelcome frisson of erotic memory shivered down her spine to settle like a hot little knot deep in her belly. She clenched her jaws against those wicked urgings that threatened to overwhelm her and instead stared out the window of Olivia’s well-appointed carriage. How long would she feel this way? How long would memories of Marshall MacDougal torment her?

Her hand stole down to her belly.
For the rest of your life
, the answer came.
If you are indeed with child, you will never escape from memories of Marsh
.

Thankfully, once arrived at Woodford, Sarah was swiftly absorbed into the boisterous home life of a family with two energetic and noisy children. Mrs. Tillotson suggested a picnic beside the river and Catherine and Philip announced their delight with whoops of joy. Olivia consented, calling it a welcome lunch for Sarah, and Neville joined them too.

“And you don’t miss all those balls and parties and folderol of the season?” Neville asked, reclining on a blanket with his sturdy four-year-old son straddling his stomach.

“I think I outgrew them. After all, I’ve had two previous seasons,” Sarah responded, twisting a curving bit of grass back and forth between her fingers. The marvel of it was that her answer was true. She didn’t miss it at all.

“Here. Have some chicken,” Olivia offered. “You’ve hardly eaten a thing.”

Sarah waved it away. “Thank you, but I’m not really that hungry.” She hadn’t wanted breakfast either, and she blanched at the implication. Though she was hungry, the thought and especially the smell of food were just too unappealing. “Too much hubbub,” she added with another bright, utterly false smile. She avoided her sister’s eyes.

“Are you going to live with us now?” Catherine asked. She was nearly seven years old, with her father’s dark eyes and her mother’s sweet smile.

Sarah smiled back. “For a little while I am.”

Olivia chuckled. “Even if you wish to give up London—and I can wholeheartedly understand why you would—Mother shall not long let you stay away. She is dying to marry you off, with a huge wedding in town. My own quiet nuptials here in Scotland could not have satisfied her, and that’s been nine years now. Since James seems immune to the lure of marriage, it appears all her hopes ride on you, Sarah. I’d wager a very large sum that she sends for you before summer is done. Certainly before everyone packs off for the hunting season.”

You’d lose that wager
, Sarah thought. For by summer’s end, if she was breeding, the truth would be obvious. Then she would be kept as far from London and town society—from
any
society—as was humanly possible.

But she would not think about that just now. It was pointless to worry about a future she could not alter. Today the sun was shining; a lark trilled enthusiastically from a nearby elm tree; and her niece and nephew were laughing at a little frog their father had caught for them. For now she would simply enjoy Olivia and her delightful family. Maybe later, when she was absolutely certain about her situation, she would confide in her sister.

A warm breeze played with a curl at her temple. It also carried a whiff of roasted chicken, and without warning, her stomach lurched in revulsion.

She pressed her lips together and swallowed. Perhaps she did not have to wait to be certain. She swallowed again and turned her face away from the breeze and breathed deeply. Perhaps she already knew the difficult truth.

She just prayed Olivia would help her. For she knew she could never ask for help from Marshall MacDougal.

Adrian arrived at the main house just as the picnickers meandered up from the riverbank. The children both clamored over him, especially little Philip, who clearly adored his older cousin. But after greeting them with great cheer and shooting Sarah a wary look, he turned to address his uncle, whose demeanor had changed from one of initial surprise and welcome, to one of suspicion.

Neville’s first words to Adrian’s made clear his position. “What are you doing in Kelso so soon? By my calculation, the school session does not end for a few more weeks.”

Adrian’s brow creased in resentment, and Sarah feared an unpleasant scene in the forecourt in front of everyone. To his credit, however, he only said, “That’s what I came to discuss with you.”

Neville’s face darkened, but Olivia laid a cautionary hand on his arm, and after a moment he gave a curt nod. “Very well. If you’ll excuse us,” he said to the rest of them. “Adrian and I will be in my study.”

The children dispersed to other activities as well, leaving Sarah and Olivia alone in the gravel front court.

“Oh, but he looks so much like Neville, doesn’t he?” Olivia remarked, watching the two men walk away. “How long has he been back?”

“I think he arrived just a day or so before I did,” Sarah answered, then added, “I’ve had occasion to speak with his mother.”

“Ah, yes. Estelle,” Olivia sighed, then hooked her arm in Sarah’s, and together they strolled toward the house. “She has never forgiven Neville’s brother for not marrying her before he died. Nor Neville for not doing so in his brother’s stead. She thinks to strike out at us through Adrian. But really, it is her own child she most wounds.”

Sarah was silent a moment. Yes, that sounded exactly like Estelle. And yet Sarah could not dismiss the woman so easily now as she might have before. “It must have been difficult for her, raising a child without benefit of a husband.”

“I’m sure it was, and still is. But is it any easier for the child to grow up without benefit of a father?”

“We managed,” Sarah replied. “We each lost our fathers—you, me, and James. Yet we grew up all right.”

“True. However, our mother loved us dearly, and besides, we did not suffer the stigma that Adrian bears. Plus, Mother’s subsequent husbands were always good fathers to all her children. Your father especially was so good to me and James. Then later Justin provided that same sort of constancy in your life.”

“That he did. But doesn’t Adrian have Neville?”

“He does, and Neville has never once shirked his duty to the boy. But it’s not the same. He’s not in our household every day. And then, sometimes Estelle makes matters more difficult than they have to be.”

Sarah grimaced. “Sometimes I think she enjoys other people’s discomfort.”

Olivia chuckled. “Should I assume that the two of you have had a run-in or two?”

Fortunately, Mrs. Tillotson came up to Olivia at that moment, allowing Sarah to escape into the morning room to compose her thoughts—and her answer. Eventually Olivia would hear everything about Marshall MacDougal’s brief but memorable visit to Kelso. About his fight with Guinea as well as the shooting, and all the other odd comings and goings of the past few weeks—hers included. She might as well be the first one to tell Olivia.

But not about Marshall MacDougal’s parentage. Not yet.

And not about her own situation either. That could wait a little longer too.

“Livvie,” she began when her sister came into the room. “Sit with me, will you, and I’ll fill you in on the latest goings-on in these parts.”

In the study Adrian was doing the same with his Uncle Neville.

“So you shot him!” Neville’s eyes fairly bulged from his head. “You shot this man? This American?”

“Yes. But Sarah saved him from drowning and…and the wound was not so very terrible—”

“Does the sheriff know about this?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean, he knows Mr. MacDougal was shot. But not who did it.” The boy’s head sank lower between his shoulders, “Mr. MacDougal decided not to tell him.”

“Why? Why would he withhold that sort of information and let you get off without any punishment at all?”

“I don’t know. I…I think he likes me.”

“Likes you?” In frustration, Neville threw his hands up in the air. “You try to kill him and he
likes
you?”

Adrian shook his head. It was hard to tell the truth and yet hide parts of it too. “I faced him like a man and admitted my guilt and he…he respected that.”

Neville massaged his temples. “Where is he now?”

“Gone.” Adrian blurted out the lie. “Why do you want to know?”

“Why? Because I’m your guardian and it’s my responsibility to make matters right.”

“But…but I already did that.”

Neville snorted. “Where has he gone to?”

Adrian thought fast. “He told Mr. Halbrecht he was going home to America.” That wasn’t a lie, for he had said exactly that to the innkeeper.

“America? Why did he come all this way just to turn around after a month and go back to America?”

“How should I know?” Adrian answered with a shrug. “Are you going to send me back to that school?” he added, so desperate to divert the subject away from him shooting Mr. MacDougal that he’d even discuss Eton.

To his great relief, it worked. for after another long moment Neville shook his head. In a skeptical tone he asked, “If I sent you, would you stay?”

Later that night, in the privacy of the master bedroom, Neville revealed to Olivia the gist of his discussion with Adrian. “I swear, that boy is going to end up in jail one day on charges too serious for me to circumvent.”

Olivia sat at her vanity removing the pins from her hair, then took up her brush and began slowly to work out the tangles. “This Marshall MacDougal certainly seems to have had a great impact during his short residency in Kelso. I’m awfully sorry we missed meeting him. Do you know, every time Sarah spoke of him she either ducked her head or averted her eyes from mine.”

Her brow furrowed and the brush stilled in her hands. “What do you think that signifies?”

Neville tossed his dressing gown aside and sat on the bed. “What are you implying—that she has had some sort of dalliance with the man? Good God, do you think that’s why Adrian shot him? The hooligan seemed awfully vague on that subject.”

“Perhaps. But didn’t you just say that Adrian believes the man likes him now? That would hardly make sense.”

“Nothing that boy does or says makes sense,” Neville grumbled. “You know, he agreed today to return to Eton. But I hold out little hope of him completing his studies there. I need to explore other options for him. Something that will engage his interest and challenge his mind.” Then his eyes focused on her, and he smiled and patted the bed beside him. “Come over here, Livvie. You can forget brushing your hair, for I intend to muss it up.”

She smiled, then rose and approached the bed, “You know, when I first met you, I behaved precisely as Sarah is behaving now.”

One of his brows went up. “Are you saying Sarah is smitten with this MacDougal fellow, just as you were smitten with me?”

“Smitten?” Olivia’s smile slowly turned sultry. “As I recall, my first reaction to you was outrage, closely followed by fear and then fury.”

“Which were quickly replaced by curiosity, infatuation, and lust.” He caught her about the waist and dragged her down on top of him.

Though she let out a little shriek of surprise, she went down willingly. “What about love? Aren’t you forgetting about that?”

“No. Not hardly.”

“I wonder what phase Sarah is in,” Olivia mused as her husband rolled her onto her back. “Not outrage or fear. Or even fury, I think.”

“Can we forget about Sarah for now? Besides, this MacDougal fellow is gone. But I’m here,” he added, kissing the words along her throat.

Despite the warm shiver of desire that snaked through her, Olivia’s thoughts were not quite ready to abandon her little sister. “She could be curious. Or maybe even infatuated.”

“Sounds to me like she lusts after the man. After all, it’s not like she’s just out of the schoolroom. What is she, twenty or so? And you said she’s already tried once to run away with a man. Mmm,” he added, licking along her collarbone. “Want to run away with me, little girl?”