and a bandage with bunny ears. He wanted to lay Laura down on a bed and pour out his doubts and fears and confusion until he understood them himself. He wanted to make it all right for all three of them. He wanted Alice safe and happy. He wanted to keep her and her innocent, unconditional love. He wanted this woman who could destroy all that with one word.
Laura was watching Lady Amelia as she moved ahead of them, her pretty skirts swishing on the grass, her parasol tilted elegantly and one of Alice’s hands was linked with hers. The perfect picture of modish motherhood, Avery thought.
‘Cat,’ Laura muttered, echoing his thoughts of a minute before.
‘Jealous?’ Avery murmured in her ear, the merest brush of her skin on his lips sending goosebumps down his spine.
‘Of her gown? Certainly not. I do not begrudge her all the help her dressmaker can give her. I have plenty of new gowns, I just do not choose to flaunt them all the time,’ she said tartly as he shifted his grip to negotiate the steps to the lower terrace from the lawn.
‘Of my attentions to her, then?’ What the blazes was he doing, putting his thoughts into words?
‘Certainly not. You are implying that you and I have a relationship that might be threatened by her.’
But we do have a relationship, of sorts. We have a child in common. We have those memories of Piers. We have our own different guilt and our own needs. We have desire. Surely I am not the only one that feels that even after what has happened between us? Don’t be a fool, Avery told himself harshly. He was keeping what she wanted from her—the thing most precious to him was threatened by her very existence.
‘I am sure Lady Amelia will make some lucky man an excellent wife,’ Laura said. Her voice was tight with an emotion he could not read. He could not tell whether she was flustered by being in his arms, furious with Amelia or simply in pain. ‘However, you should be aware that she disapproves strongly of Alice.’
‘Nonsense. Look at them now,’ Avery said. Jealousy, that is all it is.
‘You did not hear her in the hallway when I arrived, telling the other ladies that it was shocking to bring a bastard to a respectable house party.’
‘That is low, even for you, Laura, to make up such a thing.’ Yes, he had been correct. She was jealous at the thought that Lady Amelia might be Alice’s stepmother, that the child might grow to love her.
‘How dare you! I am not a liar—’
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘Mrs Jordan.’
Laura ignored the jibe. ‘She is making up to Alice because she has set her sights on you.’
‘On the contrary, I imagine she cannot be unaware of my interest and is very sensibly finding out how she gets on with my daughter.’ It was time to stop this agonising and self-doubt. He was right to keep Laura from Alice. His plan to marry, to give the child a new mother, was the right one.
Avery strode across the upper terrace. At any moment they would be at the side door into the house and he could put Laura down, get her out of his arms.
‘You have heard how she makes snide remarks—’
‘I have heard no more than the sniping that seems commonplace between young ladies in the Marriage Mart. And amongst married ladies, come to that.’
‘You have made up your mind that she is perfection, in other words!’
‘By no means, if by that you mean I intend to fix my interest upon her. Frankly, my dear, your antagonism towards her makes me incline towards Lady Amelia. I doubt I would wish to marry someone who had your approval.’
‘And why, exactly, is that?’ she demanded, twisting in his arms in an attempt to face him.
‘Because you are inconstant, flighty, deceitful—’ They were at the door. Avery bit off the words, smiled. ‘Ah, thank you, Lady Amelia. Lady Laura’s maid is just the person we want. And two footmen with a chair. Excellent.’
‘You sanctimonious libertine,’ Laura hissed and pushed against his chest as he turned to place her in the chair. It was so unexpected, he was so off balance that his grip slipped and she slid free. Avery reached for her, his wrist cracking down on the carved wooden arm with a sickening thud.
Laura landed on her feet, clutching at him. She gave a gasp of pain as her injured foot took her weight and then she was slipping down. This time he caught her, held her tight despite the pain in his wrist.
‘I never faint...’ she whispered, and passed out.
* * *
‘That’s a new pair of half-boots ruined. And a good pair of stockings without a single darn in them covered in grass stains and as for this gown, I don’t know I’ll ever get it clean.’
That was Mab. Laura turned her head on the pillow and squinted against the light. She was lying on the bed with her foot propped up and something cold and wet draped over her ankle. She wriggled her toes experimentally. ‘Ow!’
‘You’re awake then.’ Mab came over and peered down at her. ‘What a pickle. His lordship’s none too pleased, believe me.’
‘And what has it got to do with him, pray?’ Laura reached behind her for more pillows so she could sit up.
‘Miss Alice was frightened and was in floods, saying it was all her fault that you hurt yourself, so he had to cope with that until Miss Blackstock arrived. Then he banged his hand on the arm of the chair, trying to catch you, and it must have hurt like the devil, but being a man, he can’t or won’t admit it. And on top of that he’s surrounded by silly chits all of a-fluster because he was striding about carrying you, like some fool in a poem, and they were ogling his arms and his chest and cooing about how strong and noble he is... Well, you can imagine, I’m sure.’
‘Only too well.’
‘Like I always said, he’s a fine figure of a man. But with his coat off I can see what they were carrying on about. Buttocks you could bend a sewing needle on, I’ll be bound.’
‘Mab!’ But a snort of laughter escaped her.
‘That’s better. No use you looking like a dying duck in a thunderstorm, that ankle’s bad enough without you getting yourself in a pother about a man.’ She scooped up the discarded clothing. ‘We had to cut that half-boot off. I’ll take these downstairs and have a word with the laundry maids, see what we can do with the grass stains. I’ll have some tea sent up, shall I, my lady?’
Alone, Laura lay back with a sigh. Now she was doomed to be an immobile audience as Lady Amelia wormed her way into Avery’s favour. She did not trust her one inch over Alice, for surely no one went from spluttering with disgust over the presence of a love child to finding themselves charmed out of their prejudice in a matter of hours.
A tap on the door heralded a maid with a tea tray and, hard on her heels before Laura could think of the words to deny her, Lady Amelia.
‘I thought I would come and keep you company as your woman is struggling to salvage your wardrobe,’ she said with a sweet smile. ‘Put the tray there.’ She nodded to a side table and sat beside it, regarding Laura across the chinaware with perfect composure.
