A Regency Lord's Command. Anne Herries
stared at the door for some moments after he closed it behind him. She almost wished that he had raged at her. His quiet, controlled anger was hard to bear. She could not blame him, because she’d brought it on herself, but it still hurt. Justin had been so courteous towards her, so careful and caring of her feelings and her comfort. Where had that charming, gentle, teasing gentleman gone? Would she ever see him again—or had her thoughtless deceit destroyed him?
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she discovered that she could no longer hold back her tears. They trickled unheeded down her cheeks for some minutes, then she wiped them away. She would not waste time feeling sorry for herself.
She must think about the future. If she was to keep her daughter and hide the secret from Justin, it would mean taking Alice into her confidence. Her maid was honest and would help her by taking messages to her daughter and making excuses for her absence when she went to visit the child.
It was not an ideal arrangement keeping Angela in the old cottage at the edge of the estate, but it was all she could do for the moment. She had been so lucky to find that Nanny was still alive and living a precarious existence since her dismissal from Mrs Seymour’s employ.
‘She is a little love, but too thin,’ Nanny said as Lucinda explained the circumstances. ‘Yes, of course I will look after your daughter for you, my love. I never agreed with the way your father treated you—and to tell you she was dead, that was wicked. Had I been in a position to help you before this I should have done so, but I was dismissed instantly for having a bad influence on you.’
‘That was unfair.’
‘Well, it is past and the child is the important one now.’ Nanny smiled and touched her head, but Angela sniffled and looked apprehensive, as though she feared she would be smacked or bullied.
‘She has been ill-treated, so you must not scold her too much. I know her speech is bad, but correct her kindly, Nanny. She will learn by example.’
‘Yes, of course she will. I never smacked you, Lucinda, and I shall not smack this little darling—but she must start to learn her manners for she is your daughter.’
‘For the moment I cannot acknowledge her. My husband would not allow it.’
Nanny looked at her sadly. ‘You should tell your husband the truth, Lucinda. He couldn’t let you acknowledge her, of course, but if he is a good man he will allow you to see her—and he’ll find a decent place for us to live.’
‘I hope in time to confide in him, but for now it must be our secret.’
‘Very well.’
Nanny had agreed reluctantly. Lucinda knew she would care for the child as if she were her own, but she did not approve.
Alice might not approve, either—but for the moment Lucinda had no choice.
Perhaps after Justin’s return, if they became friends again, she could tell him. He might not let her have the child with her, but he might allow her to have Angela near her and visit sometimes.
Retiring to her bed, Lucinda lay restless, her mind in turmoil. If Justin discovered that she had lied to him again, he would hate her.
Justin lay sleepless. He had brought the decanter of brandy to his room, hoping that a glass or two of his favourite tipple would dull the edge of his need, but at the moment it did not seem to have worked. The desire to touch and kiss his wife was burning through him, making him groan. Had he been less proud, more sure of his own feelings and hers, he would have gone to her, taken her in his arms and begged her to forgive him. Being close to her that evening had made him aware just how lovely she was—and how much he burned to make her his wife in truth. He was a fool to let himself be hurt. Why not simply make this quarrel up with her and forget everything in her arms—bury himself in her perfumed flesh?
No, that was foolish. His father would have called him a weakling for considering such an action. Justin had been strictly reared to understand the position he held as head of one of the leading families in England. Indeed, the first duke was rumoured to be one of Charles I’s by-blows, borne of a titled lady who had kept her secret even from the king until later in life when she made a request for her son and was granted the title on his behalf. His father’s words ran through his mind.
‘Remember what you owe yourself and the family, Justin. Feeling must always be denied for, if once set free, it will ruin any man. You are of noble blood and must never forget your duty. Our family has upheld the true virtues of honour and decency for centuries. Do not be the one to break that slender thread.’
His father would say it was his duty to annul the marriage at once, to send Lucinda away in disgrace and marry a girl of impeccable reputation.
No, he could not do that. Justin was angry and hurt, but beneath the pain and the rage he knew that he still wanted his beautiful wife. He still cared what became of her. To abandon her to the gossips would be cruel and senseless. Deep within him the need to protect her from hurt had asserted itself. He must not let what had happened ruin both their lives.
Somehow he must come to terms with the situation and the only way to do that was to put a little distance between them for a while. If he stayed here, he would not be able to keep from her bed.
Lucinda set out early the next morning, just after she’d seen Justin drive away in his curricle. It was cool and she was wearing a warm cloak to cover her gown, which was one of her plainer ones. She had saved some of the sweet biscuits and a soft white roll that had been sent up for her breakfast. Her daughter enjoyed sweet trifles, perhaps the more so because she had never tasted a cake until recently. Nanny said she ought not to have too many, but Lucinda felt a deep hurtful guilt because of the way her daughter had been mistreated and she wanted to spoil her.
She wished with all her heart that she might have the child living with her at the house and acknowledge her openly, if not as her own child, as a child of a relative sadly deceased. However, she knew that it was impossible. The fact that she must deceive Justin added to her grief, but for the moment there was no other way. Perhaps in time he might learn to trust her and then she might confess her secret, but even an indulgent husband would not allow her to have the child with her permanently. The likeness between them was marked and someone might guess her secret.
As she approached the small cottage she had rented for her child and Nanny, Angela saw her from the window and came out, running to meet her. Lucinda opened her arms, sweeping her up and hugging her tightly as she burst into tears.
‘I thought yer would never come back,’ Angela said and looked at her with reproach. ‘You promised to take care of me.’
‘And I shall,’ Lucinda promised and kissed her cheek. She smelled of soap and her skin shone. Wearing the pretty dress Lucinda had purchased for her before they came here, she looked beautiful, her stick-thin body beginning to show signs of the good food she was now eating every day. ‘I promise you that no one will hurt you again, my darling. Nanny is good to you, isn’t she?’
‘Yes…but I want to be with yer…you,’ Angela corrected herself and then sucked her thumb, her eyes wide and expectant.
Lucinda pulled the thumb from her mouth and smiled. ‘You will spoil your pretty hands if you do that, dearest. Mama has to work to provide a home for you and Nanny. I shall come to you whenever I can, my darling, but you must be good for me and do as Nanny tells you.’
‘She is no trouble at all,’ Nanny said as Lucinda looked at her enquiringly. ‘Did you notice that her speech is improving already?’
‘Yes, with a few slips,’ Lucinda said and kissed her child before setting her down. Angela went off to play with some brightly coloured bricks that Nanny had given her, a relic from her mother’s childhood. ‘She will learn by our example, Nanny. I am sorry I could not return last night, but