Colton realized there was still a bit of rebellion in him. “The devil you say!”
The elderly man peered at the nobleman curiously, trying to determine what had incensed him. “The documents must be signed and witnessed, my lord. Have you aught against solidifying the nuptials with your signature? Or is it that you do not wish to marry the mother of your child?”
The trap was closing in around him; Colton could feel it choking off his hopes and aspirations like some dark, unseen hand at his throat squeezing off the life-giving air or, more accurately, all the joy from his future. His greatest regret was his beautiful Adriana. When it meant losing the woman he had come to desire with his whole being, he was averse to rectifying his imprudence even for the sake of the child. How could he even hope that Adriana would marry him after this?
No sound came from the bed, and Colton glanced around to find the actress’s eyes closed, her breathing shallow.
“ ‘Twould seem you have little time to remedy the matter, my lord,” the rector surmised. “Mistress Mayes is near to dying.”
Colton felt a pervading coldness spreading through his being. Venting a laborious sigh, he muttered none too happily, “I will marry her.”
“And the child? Will you be taking her home with you?”
“She’ll be raised as my own,” Colton avouched with an equal lack of enthusiasm.
It seemed but a brief moment had passed before the marriage vows were being uttered, feebly by Pandora and rather brusquely by Colton. Needless to say, he felt like a wayward lad who had been caught in a trap of his own making.
“The wet nurse informed me earlier that she’d be willing to take care of the child if you wish her to go home with you, my lord. Does that meet with your approval?”
That idea pleased Colton about as much as getting married, but he could see no way out of that predicament at the present moment. “ ‘Twould seem I have little choice if the child is to be nourished.”
As the rector gestured for the wet nurse to gather up the baby’s belongings, Colton found his stomach churning at the overt crudity of the woman. Making no attempt to hide her oversize breast, she laid the tiny nursling aside and rose to her feet. When she noticed Colton eyeing her, she gave him a wide, rotten-toothed grin and, wiping a finger over her dribbling nipple, pushed the digit in and out of her mouth suggestively, making much of her enjoyment as she slowly licked the finger.
Colton felt his stomach roil and turned away in sharp repugnance. He had been propositioned before, many times in fact during his years as an officer, but he seriously doubted such an invitation had ever come from a more repulsive creature. He could only wonder at the men who’d been of a mind to bed such a disgusting crone, but he promptly recalled having seen a fair number of males who’d probably have made the crone look like a saint.
“Her name is Alice Cobble, my lord,” the rector announced, drawing his attention back to the woman. “She said her husband was killed in the war, so she has no one now. For her wages, she’ll require no more than a tuppence or two besides her keep. I have every confidence that she’ll serve the babe well.”
Of one thing Colton was sure, he had never seen a filthier creature in all his life, nor was he looking forward to the idea of enduring her presence in his carriage on the long ride home, for the foul odor emitting from her body was so offensive it set his stomach awry. Her frizzy hair was definitely in need of a good washing; it stuck out in oily spikes from underneath the ragged kerchief tied around her head. Even now, she made no effort to cover her naked breast, as if she were actually flaunting it for his benefit. The fact that the babe had nursed at anything so filthy made him wonder just how soon he’d be able to find a replacement for the woman after reaching home. He hoped fervently it wouldn’t take very long.
Colton turned back to Pandora and realized her strength was rapidly ebbing. Gesturing to her, he asked the rector, “Can you not help her?”
The man stepped to the bed and pressed his fingers against the actress’s wrist. Then, with a pensive sigh, he withdrew and sadly shook his head. “I doubt your wife will last the hour, my lord.”
“I will stay with her.”
“There’s really no need, my lord. She’ll be gone soon enough, and if you tarry, your coach will likely be overtaken by soldiers who’ve come home to find work scarce and vittles beyond their ability to earn. They’ve been gathering into bands in the city, and are creating havoc in retaliation for being casually dismissed by the governing bodies of this country—in other words, the aristocrats who are enjoying wealth beyond measure while the common soldiers are starving.”
“I’ve fought alongside many of those men and can sympathize with them. I’m willing to take my chances. I wouldn’t want Pandora to die alone.”
“I’ll be here, my lord.”
“Just the same, I will sit with her,” Colton rejoined resolutely. “I’ve never been a husband before, but I’m of the opinion that a man shouldn’t desert his wife when she’s dying.”
“You’re right, of course,” the rector admitted. “I was merely thinking of your safety.”
“No need. I’ve faced greater dangers than rabble-rousers in my lifetime and have learned to take care of myself.”
“Yes, the young woman spoke of your bravery under fire.”
“Col . . .” a weak voice called from the bed.
“I’m here, Pandora,” Colton assured her. “I’m not going to leave you.”
“I only ask . . . that you be . . . a . . . good . . . father . . . to our daughter. . . .”
With that request, she closed her eyes and ceased her breathing.
Reverend Goodfellow checked her pulse and then solemnly lifted the sheet up over her head. “She’s dead, my lord.”
Colton heaved a remorseful sigh over her passing and then rose to face the elderly man. Reaching into an inside pocket of his coat, he withdrew a purse heavily weighted with coins and pressed it into the man’s hands. “This should be enough to pay for the special license and to see that Pandora is buried in a respectable place with a proper headstone to mark her grave. Her daughter will in time want to know where her mother has been laid to rest. Where may I find you after I settle my affairs at home?”
“I have a small rectory on the road to Oxford, my lord,” the man replied. “Your wife shall be buried there.” Shaking out the coins into the palm of his hand, he stared at them in amazement. “You’ve been most generous, my lord.”
“Buy food for the soldiers with what is left over. I’m sure you know a few since so many were required to win the war,” Colton urged. Turning on his heels, he motioned rather unenthusiastically for the wet nurse to follow as he took his leave. The woman secured the baby more firmly in one arm and hefted a small, tattered satchel in her free hand before complying.
Colton had assumed that it would be difficult telling his mother what he had done, but he had never imagined she would collapse upon hearing the news. Only his quick action saved her from hitting her head upon a marble-topped credenza. With Harrison scurrying in front of him, opening doors as he called for Philana’s personal maid to run ahead of them, he had carried his mother to her chambers where he had laid her gently upon her bed. As her maid bathed her face with a cool, wet cloth, Philana slowly revived, but upon remembering what had caused her trauma, she groaned and laid a trembling hand over her eyes.
Colton quietly bade Harrison to go downstairs and show Alice Cobble to the nursery. “And have one of the servants instruct that woman on the importance of bathing and washing her hair,” he added in a muted tone. “If she refuses, she’ll have to answer to me. If not for the child, I wouldn’t tolerate that filthy creature’s presence in my house under any circumstances, so I urge you to lay down the usual ultimatums for women who work in this house.”
“Yes, my lord.”
When the door closed behind the steward and the maid, Philana rolled her head upon her pillow and looked at her son through a blur of tears. “I was so in ho
pes you’d marry Adriana,” she choked miserably. “All these many years she has been like a second daughter to me. I cannot bear to think of losing her. Neither Sedgwick nor I wanted to consider how we’d ever cope if you married another. Now my greatest desire has been dashed.”
Colton squeezed the slender, blue-veined hand consolingly, but could offer his mother no comfort in that area. Although Adriana and he were not even betrothed yet, he couldn’t expect her to ignore his indiscretion, especially after their recent confrontation. He could summon little optimism that she’d take this recent news well. To his parent, he could only say, “I will talk to her.”
“I fear ‘twill do no good,” Philana whispered sadly. “In truth, I don’t know if she’d be able to bear the shame. ‘Twould take a grand lady indeed to subject herself to the sympathetic stares people would be inclined to bestow on her should she marry you. It would’ve been difficult for me; how can I expect another woman to overlook such humiliating circumstances?”
Charles greeted Lord Colton decorously at the front door of Wakefield Manor on Christmas Eve. “I’ll tell her ladyship that you’re here wishing to see her, my lord.”
“Is there someplace where we can talk without being disturbed?”
The butler was aware of the altercation that had occurred between the marquess and the lady and could understand the man’s request for privacy. “If you’ll go to the library, my lord, I shall inform Lady Adriana that you’re awaiting her presence there. ‘Tis unlikely you’ll be interrupted since Lord Standish and Lady Christina went to the Abernathys’ to take presents to the children. I believe they had planned on staying for a time, at least until Lady Adriana went to join them.”
“Thank you, Charles.”
Colton made his way down the hall to the specified room and entered its confines. His heart was truly heavy, and he could rally little enthusiasm for the task ahead. Then, too, after their last squabble, he wouldn’t put it past Adriana to have Charles convey her regrets.
Once again, he found himself standing before the portrait of the Sutton ladies, but there was only one face among the four he cared to consider, the dark-haired goddess whom he now feared he was about to lose. After all his past objections to his father’s decree and the stilted reserve he had somehow managed to convey during his courtship with Adriana, he was filled with a cold dread that after his recently coerced marriage, she would banish him from her presence and never let him see her again.
In the past few hours, it had dawned on him that he’d never feel complete as a man without Adriana as his wife. Fearing she’d reject him, he had found himself struggling to overcome an ominous sense of defeat in his personal life, the like of which he had never experienced before, not even when the enemy had managed to gain the upper hand on the battlefields.
“You wished to see me?” a silky voice queried from the entrance.
Colton’s heart leapt with relief, and he turned with a hopeful smile, but it became immediately apparent that Adriana was in no mood to return it. He moved toward her. “I was desperate to talk with you about some matters.”
“If it’s about the other night, I have nothing more to say,” she stated coolly, crossing to the fireplace. Turning her back to him, she stretched her slender hands toward the fire in an effort to warm them, for her fingers had turned to ice as soon as Charles had made the announcement that Lord Randwulf had arrived and was wishing to see her. No one knew how difficult it was for her to remain aloof from the man; already he seemed an intrinsic part of her. Dismissing him from her life would be similar to severing a limb or, more truthfully, squeezing the very life from her heart.
“I acted badly,” she admitted over her shoulder, “and for that, I must apologize, but I meant every word I said. I cannot go on hoping that you’ll eventually change your mind and come to want me as your wife. ‘Twill mean less anguish for me if I separate myself from you now and go on about my life as if you had never returned.”
“Although you may have difficulty believing this, Adriana, I am most desirous of having you as my wife.”
She turned with a brow arched at a skeptical angle and saw for the first time the dark bruise around his eye. She hadn’t realized she had hit him so hard, but for that she would apologize later. For now, she was intrigued and wished to delve more thoroughly into his statement. “When did this come about?”
“Actually, I’ve been aware of it for some time now, but have foolishly been putting off acknowledging that fact. Once upon a time, I was repulsed by the idea of having my life laid out by the contract and betrothal to which my parents had committed me. Yet, as much as I wanted to rebel against our courtship, I found myself wanting . . . nay, needing you.”
Adriana wanted to smile with joy, but the grim expression on his face made her wary. “Has something happened?”
Colton heaved a laborious sigh and turned aside, scrubbing the palm of one hand against the knuckles of the other. “Sadly enough, an event has occurred that has left me doubtful that you’ll accept my proposal of marriage.”
Adriana was suspicious of his intent and yet immensely curious. If he meant to cast the blame on her for rejecting their nuptials, she could only wonder how he would go about it. “Go on. I’m listening.”
Colton brushed a hand over the elaborately carved wood adorning the tall back of a Tudor chair, feeling terribly out of sorts with what he had to tell her. He was certainly not proud of it. “I was called to London the other night, and there found that a woman I had known for some years had given birth to a child.”
Suddenly Adriana’s knees went weak. Stumbling to the nearest chair, she sank to its tapestry seat. Her insides had grown cold with dread, and as she clutched the ornate wood on either side of her, she waited for him to continue, to tell her that the child was his and not some stranger’s. “Are you in love with her?”
Colton half-turned and peered at her, amazed that she already knew what he was going to tell her. Her head was bowed, the tendons in her hands stood out rigidly as she gripped the arms of the chair. Her slender shoulders had slumped forward, already conveying an attitude of defeat. “No, not really. She was merely an actress I had . . . ah . . . visited now and then. She once told me she was unable to have children. . . .”
“How do you know for certain the child is yours?”
A heavy sigh slipped from his lips. “I have a birthmark on my backside, which I inherited from my father, and he from his father before him, and so on. Actually, I believe it originated many years ago with a Viking. It’s shaped rather like a flying seagull.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it.”
He turned with a curious brow raised. “You have?”
“The night you interrupted my bath.”
His lips compressed in a soundless O.
“ ‘Twould seem the presence of such a birthmark on your offspring is convenient for the actress, but not so convenient for you. Do you intend to marry her?”
“Reverend Goodfellow from Oxford spoke the words over us while I was there.”
Adriana could only stare in mute defeat at her lap. So acutely did she feel the heaviness of her heart that she found herself suddenly heaving, threatening to throw up the bitter bile from her empty stomach. She had been unable to eat because of the anguish of separating herself from Colton, and now she was paying for it. She wanted to die in mortification when he rushed forward to lend assistance, but she shook her head and then abruptly clasped a hand over her mouth as her stomach convulsed.
“Step outside a moment,” he urged, slipping an arm beneath her shoulders and dragging her up against him. “There’s a nip in the air. It will help settle your stomach.”
Adriana had no strength to refuse his directive or aid and allowed him to whisk her outside.
“Breathe deeply,” he advised, holding her close. “ ‘Twill help.”
She complied, not because he had bade her to, but for her own good. What little dignity she had remaining would be better served if she could dispe
nse with her queasiness and send the man on his way. Yet it was some moments before she had enough strength to push herself free from him. As she tottered haphazardly back into the library, he followed close behind and reached out a hand to steady her as she reeled, but she avoided his touch as if he had contacted the plague.
“ ‘Twould be better if you leave now,” she said stoically after slipping back into her chair. “Now that you’re a married man, we shouldn’t be alone together. Please go. I would feel better if you did.”
“I’m a widower, Adriana,” he stated, stressing that declaration. “Pandora died before I left her town house.”
“And the child?”
“She is with a wet nurse at Randwulf Manor.”
“I see.”
“I couldn’t very well leave her alone in the world.”
“No, of course not. You did the right thing. She’ll have all the advantages you can afford.”
“Adriana . . .” He laid a hand upon her shoulder.
She lifted her gaze solemnly to his. “Yes?”
When he saw the painful sadness dulling her beautiful eyes, remorse dragged his spirit down into the depths of a dark abyss with chains more weighty than he seemed able to bear. If anyone had ever denied there could be a hell on earth, then in that moment he was sure he could have proven them wrong. “Can you possibly forgive my mistakes and accept me as your husband?”
Once upon a time, Adriana might have heard those same words and been jubilant beyond measure, but now she could hardly manage a frail smile. “I shall have to consider your proposal at some length before I can give you an answer, Colton. Until then, I have no other recourse but to consider myself entirely free of any commitments to you and to the contract our parents signed. Your marriage to another woman has terminated that agreement.”
His heart had never felt so heavy. “Will you allow me to come back tomorrow?”