Page 50 of Once a Scoundrel

He squeezed his eyes shut. Faith had said the same. He would always grieve for Daniel, but now in his heart, he knew he’d made the right decision in ordering his men to charge. He’d come to accept that, thanks to Faith’s forgiveness and love. The crushing burden he’d carried since Daniel’s death had eased from his conscience, and he could once again look upon his army service with pride, could move forward into the future rather than constantly fight the ghosts of the past. But could anything erase the guilt he felt about Mary and Jeremy?

“You must promise me that no matter what happens today that you will marry her, Stephen. I couldn’t bear it if I knew that we were the reason you let her go, that you were unhappy because of us.”

He couldn’t make that promise. The man he’d been before he left England would have eagerly jumped at the chance to be rid of responsibility and to selfishly have what he wanted, to hell with anyone else. But that man was gone. He knew now the price that hubris exacted, and he was willing to pay it.

He just hadn’t expected it to cost him Faith.

“Daniel was the love of my life,” she admitted softly as she carried Jeremy across the room to him. “I mourn every day not just for the loss of him but also the loss of the life we would have had together, all the other children we would have had, the home we would have built.”

He turned toward her, and the raw pain on her face stole his breath away.

“So many things that other couples take for granted...All those morning walks in the garden that we’ll never take, all the quiet evenings sitting by the fireside that we’ll never share.” A sad smile tugged at her lips. “I would give everything I possess for just one more afternoon spent arguing with Daniel.” She swallowed hard, blinking back the tears. “I’ll never have that second chance with him. But you, Stephen, you have your second chance, and you must not waste it. So have the happy life together that you both deserve. Please.”

He wanted to do exactly that. He wanted to devote the rest of his life to making Faith happy, to laughing with her and making her smile. She deserved a loving home and a family, autumn walks down lanes and midnight picnics, and all the stray animals her heart could love. But he couldn’t do it as long as he was responsible for Mary and Jeremy.

He shook his head. “And if the Llewellyns refuse to recognize Jeremy as their grandson, if they refuse to help you?”

“Then you marry her anyway, eloping if you have to,” she pressed in a whisper. “Lady Faith is so much stronger than you realize. After all—” She smiled as she tenderly kissed Jeremy’s cheek. “—when we’re with the people we love, together we can face anything.”

“Yes,” he rasped out, placing his hand on Jeremy’s head and a kiss to her cheek. “You’ve certainly proved that.”

The door opened, and Stephen’s heart leapt into his throat. As he drew a deep breath, he turned to face Daniel’s parents.

“Dunwich!” Sir Geoffrey stormed angrily into the room, his hands drawn into fists at his side. Behind him, his wife came slowly. Her drawn face paled as her eyes went immediately to Jeremy and locked on the boy.

“Sir,” Stephen nodded deferentially to the man although he far outranked him. “I apologize for arriving without notice—”

“You have no right to be here, no right to come into my home like this—” He angrily choked off his words as he jabbed his finger at Mary as she clutched Jeremy to her. “Withthem.”

Oblivious to her husband’s distress, Lady Llewellyn stepped slowly toward Mary, her attention rapt on the boy.

“You refused to answer my letters and declined an invitation to Elmhurst Park,” Stephen reminded him. “You left me with no choice.”

“My son is dead because of you!” he cried.

The words pierced him like a knife straight into the heart. He accepted the man’s anger without reacting, holding his face inscrutable despite the pain. He’d lived with the overwhelming grief of his best friend’s death for the past two years, and he understood the gaping hole that Daniel’s absence tore into all their lives. But he hadn’t been prepared for the full force of the blame Daniel’s parents placed squarely on his shoulders.

Yet he knew the anger only came because they were in pain and needed someone to blame, and he would gladly accept that burden, if it made dealing with his son’s death easier. If it made them willing to accept Mary and Jeremy.

Geoffrey’s face twisted with grief. “And now you bring that woman into my home, with her lies and schemes to swindle us out of money and ruin Daniel’s reputation.”

“So you can meet her,” Stephen corrected gently, “and meet your grandson.”

“That boy isnotDaniel’s!”

At his shout, Jeremy let out a loud wail and began to cry. Mary rocked him in her arms, cooing to him softly, but the boy felt the palpable tension in the room and refused to be calmed.

Lady Llewellyn’s face melted with into a heartrending expression of grief and love as she stopped in front of Mary. She whispered, “My God...he looks exactly like Daniel when he was a baby.”

She held out her trembling arms in a silent plea.

Mary hesitated a moment, her gaze flicking uncertainly to Stephen. When he nodded reassuringly, she placed Jeremy into the woman’s arms. As Lady Llewellyn pressed the boy tightly against her bosom, her own tears began to fall.

“Elizabeth, hand that boy back,” Sir Geoffrey ordered, but his voice wavered, and for the first time, Stephen heard the grief underlying the man’s anger.

“He’s Daniel’s son,” she whispered, nuzzling her face against the boy’s blond hair.

“He’s an illegitimate bastard,” his father protested., pain lacing his voice. “There’s no proof...no proof at all that Daniel and she...that he’s...”

“He’sDaniel’sson,” she repeated, turning to meet her husband’s gaze over the boy’s head. “Look at him! Do you think I wouldn’t recognize my own babe in him, the son I nursed at my breast and sang to sleep in his cradle? The son I watched grow into a man?” Her voice choked with a sob. “The same son I sent off to India?”

His shoulders sagged, his eyes glistening, as he pleaded, “Elizabeth...”

“Enough...enough grief, enough loss...I want it to end now.” She pressed Jeremy tightly against her with one arm, while her other reached for Mary. “I lost my son. I will not lose my grandson as well.”

They stared silently at each other in a shared communication that only decades of a loving marriage could create. In that moment, his heart pounding wildly and his chest aching for all of them, Stephen knew that everything was going to be all right.

“Geoffrey,” Lady Llewellyn whispered, the grief on her face replaced by a look of love and acceptance, “come meet your grandson.”