Page 43 of The Gentleman's Seduction
Martin checked his cravat once more in the mirror in the hall and scrubbed his hands through his hair, trying to tame the wildness from where Livvy had tugged on the strands in the midst of their passion. Then he entered into the drawing room and faced his twin sister.
Helen stood by the fireplace. She was only a few inches shorter than him and bore the same blonde hair and handsome features he did, though hers were reflective of her feminine beauty. In her arms she held Delilah, her two-year-old daughter, and beside her stood Gareth, her husband. He held the hand of their five-year-old son, Jeremy, who whooped with delight when he finally saw Martin.
“Uncle Martin?” Jeremy tore free of his father’s hand and rushed toward him. It was a tradition between the two of them. Jeremy would fling himself at Martin, and Martin would catch him. He wound his arms around the little boy. He had his mother’s bright blue eyes, but his dark brown hair was that of his father. Delilah, on the other hand, favored her mother completely.
“I say, old boy,” Martin said, jiggling the child in his arms, “you must’ve grown a dozen inches since I last saw you. Won’t be long now before you’re taller than me!”
Jeremy grinned and wrapped his arms around Martin’s neck, hugging him fiercely. Martin’s breath caught in his throat. There was a magic to be found in the embrace of a child. It was pure love, pure trust. He had missed his family more than he wished to admit. When he set the child down he saw Helen’s eyes glint with tears, but she was smiling. Martin nodded at his brother-in-law.
“How are things, Gareth?”
“Quite good. I’ve heard the same for you. So much so that you’ve been too busy to visit us.” There was a hint of censure in Gareth’s tone, but he was right. Martin avoided visiting at times because seeing them so happy when he could not be himself felt like torture.
“Webothwant you to visit more,” Gareth quickly added. Since Martin had lived with them for a few years as he got back on his feet, he and Gareth had formed a deep friendship, one he’d neglected as of late.
“I will visit more often,” he promised. “I had plans to come for Christmas.”
“Had?” Helen came over, shifting Delilah in her arms. The child was drowsy and rested her head on Helen’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed. Martin brushed a knuckle over her soft cheek, and the toddler sighed happily.
“Well…” He’d had every intention of coming until he’d brought Livvy home, but he couldn’t leave her alone and certainly could not take her with him.
“Is it because you’re engaged?” Helen asked. Her gaze searched his, and a frown deepened her expression.
“Engaged?” He choked on the word.
“Yes, I have been getting letters all week from friends who said you’ve been spotted touring the city and taking morning rides with an enchanting woman. Who is she?” Now Helen’s face was so full of hope that he couldn’t avoid telling her the truth.
“She’s not my fiancée. Perhaps you had better sit down, sister.” He gestured to the nearest settee and glanced at Gareth. “Why don’t you show the children to the hothouse? Jeremy might enjoy the new Venus flytrap I recently acquired. Harris can show you which one it is.”
Gareth nodded and collected Delilah from Helen. Then he and Jeremy left the drawing room.
Helen eased down onto the couch, eyeing him with concern. “Martin, what is it? Just tell me.”
“I have been seeing a woman, but she is my companion, not my fiancée.”
Helen’s gaze narrowed. “Do you mean mistress? You have had mistresses before, but you’ve never been seen out in society with them to the point that thetonis talking about it.”
He cleared his throat. “This one is…different.”
“Different how?” Helen patted the settee, and he finally sat down beside her.
“She’s wonderful. Sweet, fiery, intelligent. She makes me feel…” He glanced away, unable to say that Livvy filled him with dreams of love in the future, dreams he was too afraid to embrace because he only ever lost the things he loved.
“And you cannot marry her?”
“If I did, I would never be able to get past her family. Nor would you.”
His sister frowned, puzzled. She reached out to grasp one of his hands in the way she’d done a thousand times when it had been just the two of them against the world.
“Who is she?”
He could see she had some inkling of the truth but needed to hear him say it.
“She is Hartwell’s daughter.”
Helen jerked her hand away, and even though he expected it, it still stung.
“Hartwell has a daughter?”
