Page 36 of Somewhere I'll Find You
Pauline went to the bed, draping herself across the thick brocade coverlet. With catlike languor, she traced a pattern on the fabric with a single fingertip. “Dr. Chambers. He's a very old, trusted physician who has attended my family for years.”
“I want to meet him.”
“It's sweet of you to take an interest, darling, but there's no need—”
“Will you make the arrangements, or shall I?”
A blush swept over Pauline's skin, whether from guilt or anger he couldn't tell. “You sound soaccusing. Don't you believe I'm telling the truth about the baby?”
“I believe this ‘accidental’ pregnancy has been damned convenient for you,” he said curtly. “And I think it's time we stopped playing games.”
“I've never played games with you—”
“Haven't you?” he interrupted with a jeering smile.
Abandoning her kittenish posture, Pauline sat upright. “I refuse to discuss anything with you when you're so cross!”
He stared at her coldly. “I want you to arrange for me to see Dr. Chambers.”
“You can't order him about like a servant—or me either, for that matter.”
“I believe I've paid for the privilege.”
Making an enraged sound, Pauline threw a gold-embroidered cushion at him. It landed on the floor near his feet. “You needn't act so superior. It wasn't my fault that you made me pregnant, or that you're saddled with a wife you can't seem to locate. Have you made any progress on that score?”
“That isn't your concern.”
“I have the right to know whether my child will be born a bastard!”
“I told you I would take care of you and the baby. I intend to keep that promise.”
“That's a far cry from marrying me!”
“I was forced into a marriage of convenience by my father. I'll go to hell before I let you or anyone else do the same to me.”
“So this has become an issue of what's been done toyou?” Pauline asked, her voice rising. “What about what's been done tome? I was seduced by you, made pregnant, and now it seems you're planning to abandon me—”
“You were hardly an innocent girl from the schoolroom.” A sardonic smile crossed Damon's face as he recalled Pauline's outrageous pursuit of him, the wiles she had used to lure him into her bed. And now she was going to claim that she had been seduced? “You're a wealthy widow with a history of liaisons dating back to before your elderly husband's death. I wasn't your first protector, and God knows I won't be the last.”
“You're a cold bastard,” she said, her lovely face twisting with a sneer. “Get out. Leave this very moment! I'm certain it's harmful to the baby for me to become this angry.”
Damon complied with a mocking bow and left the volatile, perfumed atmosphere of the bedroom, wondering how he had ever allowed himself to become entangled with Pauline.
Realizing it was nearly time for him to meet with two stewards regarding concerns about his various estates, Damon went to his carriage and told the driver to take him to his London home. He didn't want to be late, having always prided himself on being punctual and responsible—qualities his gambling-obsessed father had never possessed. Although he tried to keep his mind on the business before him, thoughts of Pauline and her pregnancy kept intruding.
Damon trusted his instincts, which told him that the “baby” was merely an invention to entrap him…but he had to allow for the possibility that Pauline was telling the truth. He was swamped with resentment. Other men casually accepted the fact of having children with their mistresses, even joked about it, but for him it wasn't a matter that could be treated lightly. The child would be a lifelong responsibility.
Damon groaned and rubbed his eyes wearily. “There is no baby,” he muttered in a mixture of hope and frustration. “She's lying—she has to be.”
When he arrived at his home and walked through the front door, the butler informed him that the stewards were already waiting for him in the library.
“Good,” Damon said brusquely. “Send in some tea, and a tray of sandwiches. I expect the meeting will last a while.”
“Yes, my lord, but…” The butler reached for a small silver tray upon which a sealed note was poised. “You may want to read this. It arrived not long ago, delivered by a messenger who seemed in a great hurry.”
Frowning, Damon broke the lopsided seal and recognized the hasty scrawl as that of his younger brother, William. His gaze moved rapidly over the page.
Damon—
