eighteen.’
‘Eighteen!’ he cried, unbalancing the chair and nearly pitching over. Linette stirred, whimpering.
‘Shh.’ Madeleine reached for the child, rubbing her back.
‘Good God.’ He lowered his voice. ‘How old were you when you came to him?’ He’d made the computation in his head, but could barely believe it. She’d been so young, and he’d made love to her. How could he have done so?
‘I was fifteen.’
‘Damnation!’ So painfully young. He had left her there when she was younger than the silly chits making their come-out, the ones he thus far had successfully avoided. ‘The man’s a damned reprobate.’ Devlin had bedded her, as well. What did that make him?
She gave him a sideways glance. ‘You assume me the hapless victim, Devlin. Don’t make me so good.’
‘You did not join him willingly.’ He would not believe it.
She continued her rhythmic rocking. ‘Is this any of your concern, my lord?’
‘Not a whit.’ But that would not stop him. ‘Why did you join that cheating lout, then?’
She sighed. ‘This is a sordid story. Hardly of interest.’
‘Of interest to me,’ he persisted.
‘Very well.’ She paused to stroke Linette’s hair. ‘He seduced me. I was ruined. What else could I do?’
She made being ruined sound like getting a soiled spot on her gown. This was a rum story if ever he heard one. Farley was forty, if he was a day. Seducing a girl of her tender years—abominable. Devlin ought to have rescued her from him back then. Saved her from that abominable life.
She adjusted the blankets around the child, the candle behind her placing her profile in silhouette. His breath caught. She was a beauty. As fair as a cameo. As exotic, with her thick black curls, as a goddess from foreign shores. As skilled in the sheets as would fuel any man’s dreams.
Her fingers gently touched the child’s forehead. When she drew them away, they covered her face. Shame on him. Her child’s life hung by a fragile thread, and he thought of bedding her.
‘She will recover, Madeleine. Do not fear.’
She leaned back in the rocking chair and closed her eyes. Her silence stretched into the night, and Devlin felt guilty and useless. He watched her rock slowly back and forth in the chair. Back and forth. Back and forth.
‘Devlin?’ Her voice came as if from a great distance.
‘Yes?’
‘Do you believe God punishes sinners?’
D evlin woke sharply, still sitting in the chair. The candles had burned down to stubs and the peek of dawn came through the windows. Madeleine cradled the child in her arms. The child was still.
‘My God, is she…?’ No, it was unthinkable.
‘She’s sleeping.’
Devlin’s heart started beating again.
Madeleine shuddered. ‘Her fever broke and she fell asleep. I thought I would lose her, Devlin. It is what I deserved.’
‘Nonsense.’ Weak with relief, he stretched his stiff limbs. ‘She is through the illness, then?’
She nodded, her cheeks wet with tears.
While she had kept her anxious vigil, he had fallen asleep. Damned if he was not a useless sot. He stood up and, with a tentative hand, stroked the child’s hair.
He kissed the mother on the forehead. ‘Now you can get some sleep, as well. To bed, Madeleine, the babe can lie with us.’
He urged her up by her elbow and put an arm around her waist as he escorted her to the bed.
She looked about to protest.
He grinned. ‘Now don’t get in a twist. I’m too tired to remove my clothes and so are you. We will be as proper as peas.’
She removed her slippers and laid Linette on the bed. Devlin’s boots had long been tossed into a corner, as had his coat and waistcoat. He turned down the covers, and she crawled in. When he took his place next to her, he tucked her against him and promptly fell back to sleep.
When Madeleine woke, she was alone in the bed.
Linette. Where was Linette? She scrambled out of the covers and ran to the door.
Opening it, she saw Devlin seated at the table, Linette on his lap. The child giggled as she pulled on Devlin’s nose. Two dark curly heads so close together.
Devlin turned his head to escape the assault on his nose. He spied Madeleine. ‘Good morning, sleepyhead.’
‘Deddy’s nose,’ cried Linette, pushing Devlin’s head back with two chubby hands on his cheeks. Devlin pretended to resist.
‘Would you like some nourishment, miss?’ asked Bart, pulling out a chair for her.
She glimpsed Sophie perched on a stool near the kitchen alcove, looking smaller and more childlike than ever. Sophie jumped down and disappeared into the scullery.
‘Our girl has made a remarkable recovery, wouldn’t you say, Maddy?’
Hearing Devlin say ‘our girl’ gave her heart a lurch. Nor did the familiarity of him calling her Maddy escape her notice.
‘She seems fit,’ she agreed.
‘Mama!’ Linette scrambled off Devlin’s lap and flung herself into Madeleine’s. ‘I got Deddy’s nose!’
‘I saw, sweetling.’ She kissed the top of Linette’s head and felt her forehead with her hand. It felt blessedly cool.
Bart brought a tray of tea things, followed by Sophie carrying a plate of biscuits. He set the tea service beside her and poured her a steaming cup. ‘Do you want some tea, Dev?’
Devlin nodded.
Linette pointed to the biscuits, ‘I want one.’
Madeleine placed a biscuit on a plate and lifted Linette on to the other chair to eat it.
‘Maddy, you’re a sight.’ Devlin blinked at her over his cup. ‘That awful dress.’
She glanced down at the crumpled red silk.
‘Would you like Bart to fill you a bath? We have a tub hereabouts, don’t we, Bart?’
‘I believe so,’ Bart responded.
Before Madeleine could think of what she wished to reply, Bart fetched
