the suggestions offered here tonight are not to your liking, you will have our help in refusing them.’
Evelyn Hastings nodded in agreement and squeezed her hands.
‘Enough!’ St Aldric cut through the apology with a firmness that seemed to stun both doctor and wife.
It did not shock Maddie. What could be more shocking than what had already occurred between them? The man was an admitted wastrel. It would not surprise her if he changed his mind suddenly and refused to pay, though it was quite obvious he had the funds. She raised her chin and stared at the duke, willing herself to be brave enough to see this through. Her mute accusation would be enough to break any resistance he might feel to help his own blood.
His blue eyes sparkled as he spoke, but not from madness; the light in them was as strong as blue steel. ‘There will be no question of my acknowledging my offspring, Miss Cranston. There has been too much secrecy in my family thus far and it has caused no end of trouble. You have my word. The child you carry is mine and will have all the advantages I can offer him.’
‘Thank you.’ She had succeeded after all. Could it really be this easy?
‘But...’ he added.
Apparently not. What conditions would he manage to put on what should be simple?
‘There is a complication,’ he said.
Not as far as she was concerned. ‘I will not speak of the beginning, to the child or anyone else,’ she said, ‘as long as you admit to its existence.’
‘It is more than that,’ the duke said, distracted again and pacing the rug before the fire. ‘Six months ago. I took ill. The mumps. Had I been a child, it would have been nothing....’
‘I am well aware of that, having helped several of my charges through it,’ she snapped. ‘But what would that have to do with our business?’
He continued, unaffected by her temper. ‘As a result of the illness, I had reason to doubt that I would be able to produce issue.’
Now he was denying what had happened between them or questioning his part in the child he had given her. It was too much to bear. She used the last of her strength to draw herself up out of the velvet cushions to the unimpressive five foot four inches that she carried and stepped before him to stop his perambulation. Facing this man and being forced to look up into his face made her feel small, unimportant, weak. But she dare not appear that way, even for a moment. ‘Do you doubt the truth of my accusations?’
He held up a hand. ‘Not at all. I was surprised, of course. I spent the four months between recovery and our meeting in desperate and shameful attempts to prove to my own potency. It was on one such trip that I found you while looking for a barmaid who was to meet me in a room just above yours.’
So he was a drunken reprobate, willing to lie with any woman to prove his manhood. It did not surprise her in the least. She folded her arms and waited.
‘I do not claim to be proud of it,’ he said, unperturbed by her disapproval. ‘I merely wish you to know the truth. In six months, no other woman has come to me with the demands you are setting. I would have welcomed her, if she had. By the time I found you, I was quite beyond hope of that. I feared for the succession. Suppose I could not father a son? What would become of the title? The dukedom might return to the crown. What would become of my land and the people on it? They depend on me for their safety and livelihood. And if I could not do this one, simple thing...’ He shrugged. ‘I am the last legitimate member of my family, you see.’
She narrowed her eyes at the distinction. In her opinion, some people were too proud of their own conception, as if anyone had a choice in that matter.
‘It is no excuse for what happened,’ she said.
‘I did not say it was. I merely wish to explain. That night, I’d expected to find a woman used to the risks of such casual encounters. But you are a governess, are you not?’
‘I was,’ she corrected. ‘That is quite impossible now.’
‘I understand that,’ he said again. The sympathy in his voice sounded almost sincere. ‘I do not mean to send you away with a few coins and a promise to take the child, as if you were some whore claiming to carry my bastard.’ He took a step nearer to her and, unable to help herself, she backed away from him. Her legs hit the cushion behind her and she sat again.
Suddenly, he dropped to one knee at her feet. If it was an attempt to equalise their heights and put her at ease, it was not working. He was still too close. And though she had wished to bring the great man to his knees, it had been but a metaphor. The sight of a peer in the flesh and kneeling before her was ridiculous.
‘You deserve better than that,’ he said seriously. They were the words of a lover and her heart gave an irrational flutter. ‘I meant to give you more and would have done had you but stayed in the inn until morning. I would have seen to it that no more harm came to you.’ His voice was soft, stroking her jangling nerves. ‘I never would have left you in a position where you might have to come to me and demand justice. But you ran before we could talk.’
She fought to free herself of the romantic haze he was creating. Did he expect her to take some of the blame for this situation? She would not. How could she explain the feelings of that night? She hardly understood them herself. Anger, fear, guilt and, dare she admit it, shame? Lying with another man was a betrayal of what she had shared with her darling Richard. That had been done in love. And she would never regret it.
But Richard was long gone, lost in the war. In his honour, she had meant to keep the memory of that time pure. Now she could not manage to think of it without remembering St Aldric. ‘I could not stand to be under the same roof with you a moment longer than was necessary.’
I ran. It had been foolish of her. But what reason had she to believe he would have treated her better than he had that night?
Of course, the man before her now did not seem as imposing as she had expected. He might actually want to help her. He was no less guilty, of course. But there was a worried line in his brow that had not been there when she had arrived. ‘I understand why you did not want further dealings with me in Dover. I had given you reason to doubt me. But now I wish to make amends. You deserve more help than you received. So does the child you carry. I will not deny you, or him.’ He was smiling at her. Had she not known better, she would have smiled back.
He continued. ‘And to be the acknowledged bastard of a duke would open many doors. But...’
There was the hesitation again, proof that she was right not to trust him. She braced herself for whatever might come after.
‘But would it not be better to be my heir?’
She could not help the single, unladylike bark of laughter at the idea. Then she composed herself again and gave him a sarcastic smile, pretending to ponder. ‘Would it be better to be a duke than a bastard son? Next you will be asking me if it is better to be a duchess than a governess.’
The room fell silent. Mrs Hastings stood and went to join her husband. The pair of them looked uncomfortable.
Now the duke was smiling in relief. ‘That is precisely what I am asking.’
There was another long, awkward pause as she digested the words, repeating the conversation in her head and trying to find the point
