One Night of Scandal (Avon Historical Romance)
Lottie lay with her cheek pillowed on her husband’s chest, listening to his thundering heart slowly settle back into an even cadence.
Heaving an enormous sigh, he tightened his arm around her and touched his lips to her hair. “I’m so glad your brother-in-law didn’t shoot me. I would have hated to miss that.”
“It does rather give one a reason for living, doesn’t it?” Still suffering aftershocks of delight, Lottie reached down and drew the blankets over their entwined limbs, then snuggled deeper into the warmth of Hayden’s arms. Just as she did, she heard a faint creak coming from the direction of the door.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered, lifting her head.
“Perhaps it was a mouse.” Hayden’s serious expression would have been more convincing if his chest hadn’t started to quake with suppressed laughter. “A really large mouse with glowing red eyes and razor-sharp fangs still dripping blood from the mangled throat of his last victim.”
Lottie grabbed one of the feather bolsters and swatted him with it. “I was trying to save your life. I thought it was a very impressive effort myself.”
“Indeed it was,” he admitted, laughing aloud. “But you might have been more persuasive if your corset laces hadn’t been caught on the heel of your slipper.”
“At least we gave the gossipmongers something new to whisper about. I’m sure it will be in all the scandal sheets tomorrow—‘MM and HH Caught In Flagrante Delicto After Being Terrorized by Rabid Mouse!’ ”
As she settled back into his arms, sighing with contentment, moonlight spilled across her bed, bathing them in a hazy glow. Hayden was silent for so long that she thought he might have drifted off. But when she sat up on one elbow, thinking to enjoy the stolen pleasure of watching him sleep, he was gazing up at the ceiling, his expression pensive.
As if sensing the weight of her curious gaze, he slowly turned to look at her. “I need to tell you about Justine.”
Shaking her head, Lottie reached to stroke his cheek. “I already know everything I need to know. You don’t have to do this.”
He captured her hand in his, pressing a moist kiss to her palm. “I believe I just might. If not for you, then for me.”
She slowly nodded, sinking back into his arms.
When he spoke again, his voice was eerily detached, as if he was describing something that had happened to someone else in another lifetime. “After we’d been home from London for nearly three months, Justine realized she was with child. What she didn’t realize was that the child was Phillipe’s.”
Lottie closed her eyes briefly. Thanks to Ned, she didn’t have to ask him how he knew the child wasn’t his.
“Justine still believed that I was the one who had come to her bed that night in London. I never had the heart to tell her the truth. When she discovered she was going to have another child, she was as happy as I had ever seen her. She spent hours stitching little bonnets and composing lullabies and telling Allegra all about the new baby brother she was to have. She was convinced the child was going to be a boy, the heir she’d always dreamed of giving me. I had no choice but to go along with the charade, to pretend I was as overjoyed as she was.”
“What an agony that must have been for you,” Lottie whispered, stroking his arm.
“I didn’t know what else to do. I could hardly blame an innocent babe for the circumstances of its birth. I was determined to keep Justine secluded in Cornwall until the worst of the gossip died down.” His jaw tightened. “But one of the servants brought a scandal sheet back from London and she happened to stumble across it. It was all there between those pages, every ugly word of it—her infidelity, the duel, Phillipe’s death.”
For the first time, Lottie truly understood the depth of his contempt for those who sold scandal for profit. “What did she do?”
“She lapsed into a terrible depression. It was beyond melancholy, beyond despondency, beyond anything I’d ever seen. She refused to leave her bed except late at night, when she would wander the corridors of the manor as if she was already a ghost. She spent the days locked in her chamber. Although it broke Allegra’s little heart, she refused to see either one of us. I think she was too ashamed to face us.” He shook his head. “I tried to tell her that she wasn’t to blame for what had happened. That I was the one who had left her alone that night, when she needed me the most.”
Lottie bit her lip until she tasted blood, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to try to convince him otherwise. Not now. Not yet.
“Then one stormy night she vanished. We searched the house, then the grounds. I thought my heart was going to stop when I finally spotted her standing at the very edge of the cliffs. I called out her name, fighting to be heard over the wind and the rain. When she turned and I saw her face, I froze. I knew I didn’t dare take another step.
“She stood there without a hint of madness in her eyes—so beautiful, so calm, like an eye in the middle of the storm. I was the one raging like a madman. I begged her to think of Allegra, to think of the child growing inside of her. To think of me. Do you know what she said then?”
Lottie shook her head, unable to choke a single word past the lump in her throat.
“In that one moment of perfect clarity, she looked at me with all the love in the world in her eyes and she said, ‘I am.’ I lunged for her, but it was too late. She didn’t even scream. She just disappeared into the mist without a sound.”
A shuddering sob escaped Lottie. “But you told the authorities it was an accident—that she slipped and fell.”
He nodded. “I wanted to spare Allegra the scandal of her mother’s suicide. I didn’t realize until it was too late that an even more damning scandal would arise. And I never dreamed that Allegra would come to blame me for her mother’s death. But I didn’t do it just for her. I did it for Justine as well. I wanted my wife buried in hallowed ground.” He clenched his teeth as his composure began to crack. “I couldn’t bear the thought of God condemning her to an eternity of damnation when her brief life had contained so much torment. So I stood on the edge of that cliff, blinded by rain and tears, and I vowed that no one would ever know the truth about her death. And no one has. Until now.” He turned to look at Lottie then, his eyes fierce in the moonlight. “Until you.”
Lottie leaned over him, wetting his face with her tears. Their salty warmth was the only balm she had to offer for wounds so fresh and so deep. She gently kissed his brow, his eyelids, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and finally, his mouth, seeking to draw all the pain and bitterness out of his soul.
Groaning her name as if it was the answer to a long forgotten prayer, Hayden wrapped his arms around her and rolled her beneath him. As Lottie opened both her arms and legs to him, offering him a solace that was beyond tears or words, neither one of them heard the bedchamber door creak softly shut behind them.
Chapter 23
Was it possible, Dear Reader, that one night of scandal could lead to a lifetime of love?
SOMEONE WAS BANGING ON THE DOOR OF Lottie’s bedchamber. That might not have been so jarring if the culprit hadn’t also been shouting her name at the top of his lungs.
Startled from a sound sleep, Hayden sat bolt upright in the bed, muttering an oath. Lottie simply rolled over to her stomach and moaned in protest, refusing to abandon their cozy nest of rumpled blankets and entwined limbs.
But the banging and shouting showed no signs of ceasing.
Clutching a pillow to her naked breasts, Lottie sat up and raked a tousled curl out of her heavy-lidded eyes. “I do believe it’s Sterling. Whatever is the matter with him? Did I scream again?”
Sliding his arms around her waist, Hayden nuzzled the downy skin at the nape of her neck and murmured, “No, but if he’s willing to wait, it can be arranged.”
The banging persisted.
When Lottie tried to wiggle out of his grasp, Hayden simply shoved her back among the pillows. “I warned you that if I ever got you into a proper bed, my lady, I was never going to let yo
u out of it. You stay right where you are. I’ll handle him this time.” His expression stern and his hair poking out in all directions, Hayden clambered from the bed, sweeping a quilt around his lean hips.
“Careful,” she warned. “He might be armed.”
“If he is, then he’d best be prepared to choose his second because this time I have every intention of accepting his challenge.”
Lottie might have been more alarmed by her husband’s threat if she hadn’t been distracted by how scrumptious he looked garbed in nothing but a quilt. Sighing dreamily, she admired the masculine roll of his hips as he swaggered to the door and threw it open.
Sterling opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word, Hayden shook a finger in his face. “I’ve had it up to here with your meddling, Devonbrooke. Carlotta is not a child anymore. She’s all grown up and she doesn’t need you poking your arrogant nose in her business. You may still be her brother-in-law, but you’re no longer her guardian. She’s my wife now and she’s right where she bloody well belongs and intends to stay—in my bed!”
Frowning in bewilderment, Sterling peered over Hayden’s shoulder at Lottie. Warmed by a thrill of pride, Lottie grinned and wiggled her fingers at him.
Sterling shifted his gaze back to Hayden, something in his expression making Lottie’s smile fade. “I didn’t come here about Lottie. It’s your daughter. She’s gone missing.”
After hastily tossing on their scattered garments, Lottie and Hayden hurried downstairs to find most of the family gathered in the drawing room. Sterling was pacing in front of the secretaire. Laura perched on the edge of the cream-colored sofa, her pretty face etched with strain. Harriet sat on the divan, while George leaned against the hearth behind her, his indolent posture belied by the fitful drumming of his fingernails on the mantel.
Hayden strode directly to the black-garbed figure sitting in the corner. “Where is she?” he demanded. “Where is my daughter?”
Miss Terwilliger looked even more shrunken than usual, as if she was in danger of being swallowed altogether by the overstuffed wing chair. Her gnarled knuckles curled around the head of her cane, she peered up at Hayden over the top of her spectacles, her rheumy blue eyes rimmed with red. “When Allegra failed to show up for her lesson this morning, I went to awaken her. But when I drew back her blankets, all I found was this.” She reached into the chair beside her and held up the doll Hayden had given his daughter.
Hayden took the doll from her withered hands, tenderly smoothing one of its shimmering raven curls. “You were supposed to look after her,” he said, raising accusing eyes to the old woman. “How could you let this happen?”
“No, Hayden,” Lottie reminded him grimly. “I was supposed to look after her.”
Before he could reply, Cookie came marching into the drawing room with Ellie in tow. Judging from the little girl’s swollen eyes and reddened nose, she appeared to have been weeping for a very long time.
“Go on, child,” Cookie commanded, tugging the girl in front of her. “Tell them what you know.”
“But she made me promise I wouldn’t!” Ellie wailed.
Laura swiftly rose and slipped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “I would never ask you to break a promise, Eleanor, but the marquess here is very frightened for his little girl. He loves her just as much as we all love you and if he doesn’t find her soon, it will make him very sad. Can you tell us where she’s gone?”
Scuffing the toe of her slipper on the carpet, Ellie gave Hayden a shy glance. “I told her you were here last night. At first she didn’t believe me, but after I told her about the mouse and Aunt Lottie turning all pink, she knew I was telling the truth.”
Lottie could feel herself turning pink all over again. “What did she do then?”
“She said she was going to see her papa. But then a little while later, she came to my bedchamber and asked for her doll back.” Ellie frowned at the doll in Hayden’s hands. “When she told me where she was going, I thought she was going to take it with her.”
“Where?” Hayden asked desperately. “Where did she tell you she was going?”
“To Cornwall. She told me she was going home to Cornwall.”
Relief washed over Hayden’s face. “She’s only ten years old. If she set off for Cornwall, she couldn’t have gone very far.” His pleading gaze swept them all, finally coming to rest on Lottie. “Could she?”
“The mail coach,” Harriet whispered.
Since her blank expression never changed, it took everyone a minute to realize she had even spoken.
“What was that, Miss Dimwinkle?” George asked, leaning over her shoulder.
“The mail coach!” Harriet repeated, her eyes lighting up behind the thick lenses of her spectacles. “Allegra knew that was how I ran away to Cornwall. She was always asking me questions about my journey. She said it sounded like a fine adventure.”
Sterling collapsed against the secretaire, pressing his fingertips to his brow. “Dear Lord! If the child managed to wrangle herself a seat on one of the mail coaches that departed last night, she could be halfway to Cornwall by now.”
Hayden raked a hand through his hair, looking dazed. “This still makes no sense whatsoever. If she knew I was here, then why in the name of God would she go there?” Kneeling in front of Ellie, he gently clasped the child by the shoulders. “Think, sweetheart. Think very hard. Did Allegra say why she was going to Cornwall?”
Ellie slowly nodded, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. “She said she was going to see her mother.”
The carriage flew across the moor, bouncing through every furrow and rut until Lottie feared her teeth were going to fly right out of her head. Hayden had driven them across England like a man possessed. They had traveled both day and night, stopping only to change horses when the coachman warned Hayden that the animals were in danger of dropping dead in their tracks. When a broken wheel spoke had delayed them for nearly an hour, Lottie had feared Hayden was going to continue the journey on foot.
They had overtaken three mail coaches along the way, but despite Hayden’s frantic pleas and threats, none of the drivers reported seeing a little girl trying to book a passage to Cornwall. But the last driver did remember that there would have been another coach ahead of him—a coach that had been scheduled to depart for Cornwall shortly after midnight on the previous day.
Allegra’s doll sat on the seat across from Hayden and Lottie, her cool violet eyes and unruffled demeanor mocking their agitation. Lottie tucked her hands deeper into her muff, wishing for her own doll’s smug smirk and twinkling eye. But her doll had vanished right along with Allegra.
As the carriage hurtled across the moor, Hayden gazed out the window as he’d done for most of the journey, his profile as bleak as the winter sky. He’d barely spoken a word to Lottie since they’d left London, retreating back into that wary shell where she had first found him. But when she reached for his hand, he took it and laced his fingers tightly through hers.
As they turned into the manor’s drive, a winter squall seemed to be blowing in from the sea. Rain scented the chill air and the rising wind whipped the naked branches of the orchard trees into a dancing frenzy.
The carriage rolled to a halt. Before Lottie could even gather her skirts, Hayden had flung open the door and was racing toward the manor, shouting his daughter’s name.
Lottie reached the house just as Martha came bustling into the foyer to find her master standing there, hatless and frantic.
“What on earth are you doing here, my lord?” she asked, her round face wreathed with shock. “If you’d have sent word that you were returning so soon, we would have prepared your—”
Hayden caught her by the shoulders before she could finish. “Is Allegra here, Martha? Have you seen her?”
Martha blinked dazedly. “Allegra? Of course Allegra’s not here. She’s in London with you.”
Lottie glanced desperately around the foyer, her gaze finally settling on the mirrored hall tree, wh
ere a stack of unopened envelopes lay, awaiting Hayden’s return. “The mail, Martha,” she said urgently. “Has the mail arrived today?”
“Why, I believe so. I sent Jem to the village to collect it over an hour ago.” She waved a dismissive hand. “There was nothing of any import—just a few notices and a letter from your cousin Basil.”
Lottie and Hayden exchanged a wild look.
“Allegra!” Hayden shouted, starting up the stairs.
“Allegra!” Lottie echoed, flying down the corridor that led to the kitchens.
They met in the music room a short while later, both hoarse and out of breath.
“I can’t find a trace of her anywhere,” Hayden admitted, his face reflecting his despair.
“None of the servants have seen her either.” Lottie shook her head. “Oh, Hayden, what if we were wrong? What if we’re here and she’s somewhere in London—lost and frightened and all alone.”
Hayden gazed up at Justine’s portrait, his hands clenched into fists. “But your niece swore she was coming here to see her mother.”
The words had barely left his lips before he slowly turned to look at Lottie, the dread in his eyes chilling her blood to ice.
Allegra stood at the edge of the cliff, her traveling cloak billowing in the wind. She looked very small and very fragile against the roiling backdrop of sky and sea. Making a small, strangled sound in the back of his throat, Hayden started forward. Lottie grabbed his arm, pointing at the loose rocks beneath his daughter’s feet.
They crept forward as one, terrified that their approach would startle her over the edge.
When they had drawn close enough to be heard over the roar of the waves crashing against the jagged rocks below, Hayden gently called out, “Allegra.”
She turned, the sudden motion making her sway. Hayden’s muscles went rigid and Lottie knew it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to spring forward and try to snatch his baby up into his arms. Tears misted Lottie’s eyes when she saw the ragged doll Allegra was clutching.