Page 5 of Secrets of a Duke's Heart
From his sly smile, Clarissa had the distinct impression that Mr. Davies knew far more about theSpectrethan he let on, but she was too distracted by Monty and the baby to glean further insight. There were too many questions bouncing around inside her skull, yet all her brain could say was:baby.
“You are comfortable with infants,” Ada said when no one responded to her statement about her uncle’s role in the Waterguard.
“I will never forget the moment I first held my newborn niece. I can still recall the faintly sour smell of her tiny, fuzzy head. Her pudgy legs and her shuddery infant sighs.”
Clarissa’s mind, already scrambling for purchase on anything remotely intellectual, crumbled in the presence of a man who liked babies. She had to help him find his niece.
Outside, a clap of thunder brought her back to the present.
“That storm is moving fast. You ought to be going if you want to make it home without getting drenched.” Mr. Davies rose to his feet and loomed over his tiny daughter. “I need Lilou back now.”
Ada concealed a smile behind her fist. Clarissa gathered up the pieces of her shattered mind and said, “Thank you for seeing us. We shall visit the Cock and Bull as soon as feasible.”
“There is no point,” Montague grumbled as he placed the tiny baby in her father’s arms. For some reason, seeing her in Mr. Davies’ arms didn’t provoke the same strange mix of feelings that had taken her off guard with Mr. Montague. “The Cock and Bull is where this all started. The pirate absconded with her down a hidden passageway.”
“I have heard of caves carved into the rocks leading out to the sea,” said Mr. Davies. “It seems you have come here for nothing. Sorry we cannot help.”
Within moments, they were rushed out into the gloomy evening. Minutes down the path, the sky broke open. Rain pelted them as they ran.
“In here,” Montague said, pointing to an old lean-to. “We can wait out the worst of the storm.”
She picked her way through the mud and pressed her back against the rough wall, watching the rain come down in sheets. Shivering, she licked her lips and tasted raindrops.
“Since it appears that we will be stranded here for a while, tell me more about Miss Harriet.”
CHAPTERTHREE
Don’t look at her.
Jude kept his gaze fastened resolutely on the horizon, but it was no use. Miss Penfirth’s soggy clothing only emphasized her soft curves. Worse, her nipples had pebbled into hard beads that could not be restrained by however many layers of cotton and silk. The subtle bumps were there, and he could not stop picturing the hue of those hidden, puckered buds, or how those lush globes would fill his hands…
“Harriet?” Miss Penfirth prompted, bringing him rudely back to the present. “Have you always liked babies?”
Jude cleared his throat. “Yes, possibly. Harriet is the only one I have ever had much contact with.
“I was seventeen and home from school for the summer when she was born. Everyone acted like Pamela, my sister and Harriet’s mother, was too innocent to know better than to be seduced by a stable hand. To my parents, it was all the conniving lad’s fault. She was so tiny and fragile, too young to have offended a soul, yet everyone acted as though her existence was her own fault,” he said darkly. “Pam acted like she had nothing to do with it. Once the boy was gone, she carried on as if she’d never borne a child out of wedlock.”
“What happened to the father?”
“He was dismissed from service as soon as Pamela’s pregnancy was known. We took great pains to conceal her condition. I learned he’d died some years later. I doubt he ever knew he had sired a daughter with a—” He caught himself before the wordduchesscould fall from his lips. “A lady,” he amended.
That fall, he’d gone off to university, but he still thought of Harriet every day. By the time he arrived home at Christmas, she was so different yet still so sweet. With his father in decline, his studies had been cut short a few months later. By then, Harriet had been sent to live with distant relatives. Pamela was on the marriage mart, flirting her way into the hearts of every man who would pay her the slightest attention. The duty of finding her a suitable husband therefore fell to him.
Had Harriet’s existence become common knowledge, the Montague name would have been besmirched. His other siblings might have struggled to attract suitable partners. Secrecy was paramount.
Thus, everyone had suffered the consequences of her actions except Pamela. She married a marquess and bore him four boys. If she ever thought about her daughter, it was with rancor. She rarely visited, and each time left Harriet’s heart crushed.
Jude never forgot the charming little girl his sister had abandoned. As soon as was feasible, he’d brought her back to live at Acton Heath as his ward. Miss Penfirth’s absurd notion that Harriet might have concocted a scheme to run away cut to the quick.
Why, then, did he have a sinking feeling that she might be onto something?
He didn’t believe it. Harriet was a sensible girl. He had given her a choice and she had made the responsible decision.
Feelings didn’t rate in a discussion of marriage.Feelingswere foolish impulses that led one to do things like have premarital relations with a boy who groomed horses for a living, and then abandoning one’s child out of shame. The last time he had allowed himself to experience an emotion had been the day he held newborn Harriet…and a quarter hour ago with the Davies’ infant daughter in his arms.
He was getting soft in his old age. Nearly forty and yet unmarried. His reaction to a stranger’s child must be a sign that it was time for him to settle down. He had an inheritance to secure, after all. Raising Harriet had given him the illusion of fatherhood, but it was past time he found his own suitable match.
Miss Penfirth was not in the running. No matter what kind of feelings she stirred in him. Lust was not an emotion.
