Page 47 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
“I understand now why Bluebelle Lodge is so important to you.”
The diffident tone, the stiff manner, sent her heart sinking and her fears rising. What had she expected from Graeme Blatchfield, rigid diplomat? He’d said she had no reason to fear him, but…
“Know this, Lord Chilcombe. Coralie and Nicholas are mine.” Angry tears flooded her eyes again and she pulled her hand away.
“I won’t take them away,” he said, his tone suddenly warm. “Nor will anyone else, Blythe.”
He went to the door and opened it. Radley, loyal creature that she was, waited outside. Graeme held a whispered conversation with her and she scurried away.
He returned and took Blythe’s hand, leading her to the armchairs near the fireplace. “I want to know why Diddenton thinks he has a claim to Bluebelle Lodge, and what his son’s involvement is in this claim. Everything you know, Blythe. We’re going to find a way for you to keep your home.”
Words failed her and it was just as well because it was some time before she could risk speaking. She perched quietly on the edge of her chair while he made himself useful fetching her a shawl and building a fire to chase the chill from the room until Radley returned with two steaming cups of chocolate.
Chapter Eleven
In the early hours, Graeme finally snatched a few hours of sleep, after staring at the canopy above his bed, a pale damask of abundant but faded blue flowers.
His conversation with Blythe had kept him awake. Not that he’d learned anything new after the chocolate arrived. That hadn’t been his purpose, not truly.
He’d wanted to calm her. He wanted her to trust him, if that could ever be possible.
He’d wanted to know what bloody Archie had bloody done to her in the presence of bloody Lord Vernon to make her lose her child. She’d left out that detail.
Though his own nerves had been stretched thin with anger, he’d watched as the rich, dark sweetness of the chocolate helped sooth hers, using every bit of restraint he’d learned over the years. He’d managed to keep his hands off her.
When all he wanted was to take her into his arms and comfort her.
She hadn’t allowed that, of course. He’d never believe she was the jade Mrs. Jarrow was making her out to be.
He rose, washed, and allowed Clive, who’d accompanied him from London, to help him dress. As soon as Blythe was ready, they would take the gig over to Bluebelle Lodge. Or… did Blythe ride? Perhaps he’d need to convince Lady Hermione to stay at Risley Manor. If he and Blythe could cut through the fields, they could reach their destination more quickly and spot any trespassers on the way. And have more time alone.
The children… their existence had been a surprise. He would provide for both of them, without question, whether Blythe wanted his help or not. Coralie, they would find a way to bring out. How one brought an earl’s by-blow into society, he had no idea. That required female intervention, which was perhaps part of the reason Blythe was trying to establish herself in town.
The boy posed a more worrisome problem that Blythe perhaps hadn’t thought of. If he was Lord Vernon’s child—and Diddenton’s grandchild—he might prove a valuable pawn to the marquess. Best to keep his existence secret or pass him off as the son of someone else. He wondered if Blythe had chosen that path.
He found her and Lady Hermione in the breakfast room. At his suggestion that he and Blythe ride to Bluebelle Lodge so she could show him the land, Lady Hermione smiled and claimed that she was too tired from the previous evening’s adventures to accompany them.
* * *
“Were these flowers here yesterday?” Graeme asked.
Seated primly on one of the mounts from the stable at Risley Manor, Blythe was leading them through a wooded area of newly budding trees, the ground rich with bluebells.
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “You didn’t notice?”
“I fear I didn’t take the time to stop and see the beauty around me.”
Too busy looking at the beauty in front of me.
He’d always noticed Blythe’s beauty, even when her dalliance with Archie had soiled her.
And what a priggish word that was—soiled. What had she done but succumb to Archie’s seduction? How many men had he met through the years—of all races and countries, and classes for that matter—who would make an attempt on an innocent girl’s virtue? He hadn’t—and swore he would never—venture that himself.
But he’d been tempted. How did that make him any better than the others? Or Blythe any worse? She was not a woman of bad character herself but an innocent who had hitched herself to a man of bad character.
“Come and look,” she said as they broke through the trees.
He brought his mount up next to hers.
