Page 99 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
Mick’s stomach knotted, roiled as he thought of the frail, slender woman he’d held being abused in any manner at all, but to have been denigrated in the vilest way possible had rage seething through him. His right hand balled into a tightened fist as though already preparing to deliver the blow the villain deserved.
The duke tossed back his scotch, no doubt seeking fortification for what came next, although Mick couldn’t imagine it being any worse. “She knew—or at least believed—she was not with child before the attack. For some time afterward, she could hardly bear for me to hold her, wanted no more intimacy from me than that. So when she realized she was with child, she assumed—rightfully so—that it was not mine.” Finally he looked at Mick. The sadness and regret in the duke’s expression very nearly knocked him back on his heels. “Had you been a girl, I might have been able to convince her to keep you. But she was sickened by the thought that vile creature’s spawn might inherit my title and estates. So I tried to make it right . . . for her. But she was never as vibrant, as unafraid as she’d been before.”
A part of him understood their actions, a part of him rebelled against them. “Were you aware how baby farmers cared for the infants placed in their care?”
The duke shook his head. “Not at the time. A friend of mine told me he farmed out his bastards. It’s a common practice. Not until a few years ago when people began advocating for change, for licensing baby farming, when so many graves were found . . .” His voice trailed off.
Articles had appeared in the newspapers. Reading them Mick had assumed the duke had known what his fate would be. “You didn’t revisit Ettie Trewlove to try to find out if I was alive?”
“What did it matter by then? You were either dead or a grown man. I’d given her extra coins to see you had an easier start in life than the small payment she’d asked for would have given you. While it brings me shame to say it, I felt I owed another man’s bastard no more than I’d already given.
“When I saw you yesterday, I knew the truth, knew you were my son. I was devastated to realize we had made such a grave error, but how could I tell Bella? She begged me to give you up all those years ago. She would never forgive herself,willnever forgive herself. Her heart breaks anew. How many times can a heart break without crumbling completely?”
“So he’s truly your legitimate heir? And I’m thespare?” Kipwick scoffed. “I don’t bloody well believe this. You told him to his face he wasn’t your son. You told me that you—”
“Had no bastard,” the duke finished for him, a terseness in his voice as though he were disappointed that the earl was so concerned with his title. “I have no bastard, but it has become apparent I do have two sons.” He returned his attention to Mick. “You are my son. Our son. Mine and Bella’s.”
“Do you know who attacked her?”
Hedley jerked his head back as though he’d been punched. Obviously he’d expected Mick to crow about the fact he was heir to a dukedom. “What difference does it make?”
“I shall see him put to death.”
“So your mother—who has only just learned your true identity—can watch you swing from the gallows?”
“The dark underbelly of London is my playground. His body will never be found.”
He watched the duke struggle with emotions he could no longer hold in check. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or appalled by what his firstborn had just revealed and the actions he was willing to take. “He was seen to, long ago. You are not the only one with connection and means.”
Mick’s respect for the duke went up a notch.
“So what do we bloody well do now?” Kipwick asked. “You can’t just magically produce another son out of thin air.”
The duke held Mick’s gaze. “We shall work out a story. We shall see your birthright restored.”
Sweet Christ! He was about to become a bloody future duke.
Chapter 23
Aslyn desperately wanted to be there when the duke entered the library and Mick confronted him, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the duchess’s side. She’d awoken shortly before the physician arrived and immediately burst into tears, asking Hedley for forgiveness while he held and rocked her. It had broken Aslyn’s heart to see her tormented so. After giving her a sleeping draught, Dr. Graves had asked Aslyn to stay until the duchess drifted off.
But sleep eluded the poor woman while her gaze continually fluttered around the room as though she searched for something lost. Finally, she settled into stillness, her focus on the window where late-afternoon sunlight filtered in, capturing dust motes in their slow descent.
“We’d been married only a month,” she said flatly, quietly, and Aslyn wasn’t certain she was speaking to her, was truly aware of her presence. “I bled. Not much, but still I assumed it was my monthly. I thought the lightness of my bleeding was a result of losing my virginity. I bled after the attack, naturally. How can a woman not when she is treated so roughly? But afterward I had no more menses. Hedley hadn’t touched me—I couldn’t stand for him to touch me after that ruffian . . .” She swallowed, tears misted in her eyes.
Aslyn squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
Slowly the duchess turned her head until she held Aslyn’s gaze. “We hadn’t been intimate you see. After what I thought was the monthly bleeding, after the attack. I didn’t see how the babe could be his. A boy. An heir who might not carry his blood.” Desperately she clutched Aslyn’s hand. “Do you understand? I had no way of knowing for sure. During all those long months, still I prayed it was Hedley’s. I knew when we’d last been intimate. I counted the weeks. I knew when the babe should be born if he was my love’s, but the day came and the day went and the babe stayed within me. I convinced myself, it couldn’t be his. Two weeks later, when it finally arrived, the timing indicated it had been sired by that monster. Now I know he was merely tardy.”
“So you told people the child died.”
She shook her head. “No, no one knew. When I realized I was increasing, we moved to an obscure estate where Hedley’s father had kept his mistress. They were both dead. They didn’t need it. We isolated ourselves. Only a handful of servants. We waited. Day after torturous day. I thought I would go mad.” She gave Aslyn a sad smile. “I think I did a bit.” She looked back out the window.
“It’s understandable,” Aslyn said gently. “The horror you endured, survived . . .” Now she understood all of the duchess’s precautions, worries. “I’m certain Mick holds you no ill will.”
“He loves you.” She pierced Aslyn with sad, brown eyes. “I do not think we kept watch over you as closely as I thought we had.”
“I was not as obedient a ward as I should have been.”
