Virginia Henley

Table of Contents

 

 

“Virginia Henley writes the kind of book you simply can’t stop reading.”

—Bertrice Small

 

“A master storyteller. . . . With each new novel, Virginia Henley tests her powers as a writer, and as readers, we reap the splendid rewards.”

—
Romantic Times

 

“A brilliant author whom we come to rely on for the best in romantic fiction.”

—
Rendezvous

 

“Colorful, sensual, masterful . . . Virginia Henley takes a classic story line, gives it a fresh twist, and gives her legions of fans exactly what they want—a nonstop, memorable read. Ms. Henley delivers.”

—
Romantic Times
(Top Pick)

 

“Henley deftly intertwines political machinations and passion in this lusty historical romance.”

—
Booklist

 

“In a titillating combination of historical detail and breathtaking passion, perennial favorite Henley wields her magic yet again.”

—
Amazon.com

 

“Masterful.”

—Romance Reviews Today

SIGNET

Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood, Victoria, Australia

Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2

Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand

 

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England

 

First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.

 

First Printing, November

Copyright © Virginia Henley, 2002

Excerpt copyright © Virginia Henley, 2002 All rights reserved

 

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

eISBN : 978-1-101-11787-3

 

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED TO PROMOTE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM MARKETING DIVISION, PENGUIN PUTNAM INC., 375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014.

 

 

“Lord Hatton’s heir shall not make his way into the world arse-first, if I have any say in the matter!” The red-faced midwife pushed hard on the baby’s buttocks in an effort to turn it about, then brushed her hair back from her sweating forehead.

On the big bed, the young Irish girl’s beauty had been replaced by a pale, haggard look brought on by the ordeal of childbirth. Lady Kathleen Hatton had gone into labor at dawn and it was now almost midnight.

Meg Riley, Lady Hatton’s serving-woman, who had been Kathleen Flynn’s nurse when she was a child, wrung her hands in dismay. “She’s in agony, woman. Deliver the child as quick as ye can!”

The midwife, who had detected two heads when she arrived, pressed stubborn lips together. She was offended at having her authority challenged before the two young maids who hovered anxiously by the door. “The Irish think they know everything! Unless you have experience delivering twins, I suggest you keep your advice to yourself. Twin births are dangerous; naught but harm and hazard!” In spite of her air of authority, the midwife secretly felt panic. She took a firm hold of the tiny shoulder that now presented itself and pulled with relentless resolve.

Lord Hatton’s heir made his appearance into the world two minutes before midnight; mercifully, the mother lost consciousness. The midwife handed the child to Meg Riley. “Wash him and I shall present him to his father immediately. The poor man has waited long enough.”

The “poor man” has removed himself to his library where he’ll hear no screams and where the fine brandy will ease his wait,
Meg thought with outrage. As she bathed the male child, Meg examined him carefully. He was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen, with tufts of dark hair curling upon his head and black eyelashes fringing his gray eyes. She wrapped him in a swaddling blanket and approached the bed. When the midwife reached for the small bundle, Meg said, “Ye cannot leave Lady Hatton; ye have to deliver the other child!”

“Her labor has stopped, and it could be hours before it starts again.” The midwife took the heir she had successfully delivered and made her way to the library.

Mr. Burke, Hatton Hall’s majordomo, opened the library door for the midwife, greatly relieved that, at last, all seemed well.

“Is it a boy?” Henry Hatton demanded, arising from his leather wing chair amid a blue haze of cigar smoke.

“Yes, indeed, my lord. Congratulations on a fine son.” The midwife beamed and unwrapped the blanket to display her trophy.

Lord Hatton’s eyes kindled with male pride. “He’s absolutely perfect, if I do say so myself. This calls for a celebration! Burke, summon the steward and the footmen and we’ll drink a toast.” Henry suddenly bethought himself. “How is Lady Hatton? Pleased with herself, no doubt?”

“Her work isn’t finished yet, but I don’t want to force things.”

“Get it delivered. I don’t want Kathleen to suffer discomfort.”

“Twin births can be hazardous, my lord. We don’t want to injure the child.”

“Don’t worry unduly. I have my son, my heir; that’s the important thing. Just make sure no harm comes to
this
one. I’ve decided on the name Christopher . . . Christopher Flynn Hatton!”

By the following night, the entire household was in a panic. The second twin was still unborn, despite everything the midwife had done to induce the birth. Even the cook had been summoned for gruel and molasses and Mr. Burke, filled with alarm, had rushed upstairs a dozen times with hot bricks to warm her feet.

Kathleen Hatton lay in a torpid state with glazed eyes while Meg Riley bathed her tenderly, praying fervently as tears rolled down her anguished face. Just before midnight, Lord Hatton stormed into the chamber for the third time in as many hours.

“It must be dead, my lord,” the midwife pronounced desperately in the face of his anger.

“That Spawn of Satan had better be dead!” He strode impatiently up and down the chamber, issuing threats to everyone and taking perverse satisfaction in his ability to make them cower.

As the last stroke of midnight died away, the second twin finally made his appearance into the world. Meg Riley looked down in wonder at the child whom the midwife handed her to cleanse. It was another boy, identical to the first in every detail. The same perfect limbs, the same tufts of dark hair, the same black eyelashes fringing his gray eyes, the same tiny cleft in the center of his chin. “ ’Tis another boy, my lord.” Meg held out the beautiful baby.