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He and Heather had met at their cottage and he had promised he would only be away for a day.
“Dearest, I have arranged a meeting with my estate manager at my Parliamentary friend’s Grange, some hours away. Because of the distance, I shall not return until late into the day. I must attend to the arrangements my friend, the one I mentioned, is conducting on my behalf. He wields a great deal of power in Parliament, but he needs me to sign some of the documents he will be presenting to the court. You see, he is making all the arrangements for an annulment should Sara refuse to sign the divorce papers.”
“Oh, I do feel so badly about this. Godwin, my love, I would be happy to stay here in our cottage as your mistress…and not do this to Sara.”
“No! I will not allow you to suffer over this. I took advantage of you, Heather. You were an innocent, and now you are mine. I will not treat you thusly. I will not shame you,” he said vehemently.
“Yes, but, Godwin, a second wife under such circumstances will be not much better than a mistress’s role in society, and honestly, I am content to go on as we are. I shall live here in this cottage that I adore…”
“And our child? Will you condemn our child to such a life?”
Heather had frowned, and he had promised that in the end all would be well. She watched him leave and sighed.
Heather adored him, but she honestly did not want to put Sara into such a predicament. She was content with her life the way it was and the way it would be as Godwin’s mistress. She had his love, she had no need of his name.
As she strolled home to her uncle’s modest but well-ordered household, worried about the future, torn because of the child she carried, she made up her mind to try and talk Godwin out of his present course. She would tell him that he must think of Roderick.
Her red hair trailed freely unhampered as she hadn’t bothered to don the hood of her cloak. Over her arm a basket was slung full with wildflowers. In her throat one of her favorite tunes. Godwin loved her voice and was forever asking her to sing for him. Godwin, she thought and sighed heavily. Why had the fated brought them together? It was up to her to keep him from denouncing his wife and the boy he had called son all these years.
She loved the cottage. She loved watching him come through the door. Theirs was a private world when they were there together. She had no need to be Lady Ravensbury.
She only needed him and a quiet life, but a nagging voice told her she wasn’t being realistic. Life would intrude and hurt their child in the future…but how she loved Godwin, and if only he had never crossed paths with Sara. He had a habit of peering at her with those brilliant eyes of his that made her knees weak. Oh, he had been so full of joy, so wildly thrilled that he had picked her up and swung her around when she told him she was with child!
He had glowed with happiness, so much that he could not contain himself as he began voicing the plans for the baby’s nursery, and then he stopped talking and took her into his arms to hold her, just to hold her. She clung to him.
She wished he hadn’t gone off on business. She missed him so very much. Still, she would see him soon.
Heather couldn’t keep the smile from her face when she entered the kitchen. A fire was burning low in the hearth and she rubbed her hands before she removed her cloak and hung it on a nearby hook.
Cook eyed her and said, “Sit…sit with me a moment, child.”
“My goodness, whatever is wrong, Mabe? I can see that something is very wrong, for you never look so dour,” Heather exclaimed, and gave the woman’s full round shoulders a hug before she sat beside her at the table.
“Mrs. Abernathy came to see yer uncle, she did, and she made no secret of it, ‘twas Lady Ravensbury who sent her. I know, coz m’boy listened at the door—I told him to, ye see, cuz I was worrit about ye.”
“But what does this mean?” Heather had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was alarming. Her uncle barely tolerated her as it was. He had only taken her in because if he hadn’t, people would have thought him coldhearted, which, in fact, he was. Her aunt had very little to say in their household, and Heather knew she would find no help in that quarter.
“Mrs. Abernathy made him know the worst of ‘ee and himself. She come to end it, this illicit love affair ye be having with his lordship—her words, not mine,” Mabe said with some disgust. She reached for Heather’s hand and patted it. “It be wrong, ye know, I know…ye and his lordship carrying on, but bless ye child, I understand the heart and life…but I think if ye promise to give him up…perhaps all will be well.”
Heather jumped to her feet. “Mabe? End it? I could no more end it than end my life.”
“Ye’ll get nowhere speaking sech to the vicar, m’darling girl,” Mabe said, and sighed as she shook her head. “Lord bless ye, I’ve a fondness for ye, but still…himself be another woman’s lawful man. Think on that if nothing else.”
“But, Mabe…I have. It isn’t what you think…” Heather started to object and then cut herself off. At the kitchen door stood a small but hearty lad.
Mabe’s son was thirteen, round-faced and round-eyed. He walked over to Heather and took her hand worshipfully. “Miss Heather, master saw ye coming down the walk. He says to have ye go to him in the study at once, but if ye don’t want to…if ye want to run away…I’ll gladly go with ye and protect ye, I will.”
Mabe reached over and touched her son’s shoulder. “Whist with ye now putting such notions in Miss Heather’s head. Go on, young’un…off with ye now.”
He lowered his head and shuffled out, but it was clear when he turned and gave Heather a long look that he was concerned and ready to help her.
Heather bolstered herself as she made ready to face her uncle. Before she left, Mabe hurried to turn her and throw her arms around her. “Never ye mind, love…matters of the heart have a habit of working out in the end. He will berate ye, ye tell him ye regret what ye’ve done…tell him ye were an innocent and taken advantage of…tell…”
“No, how can I do that, Mabe? It would be a lie,” Heather said, and left the cook at her back. Every instinct told her that she was in peril.
She walked slowly down the long narrow hall, up the two steps to the main hall, down its length and across its width to the study door where she stopped. She took a moment to compose herself as she smoothed her modest, blue day gown, lifted her chin and knocked.
She knew her uncle despised her. It was the only ‘feeling’ he had ever displayed in her regard. She knew why. She knew she was so like her mother in appearance that he couldn’t bear to be in the same room with her. He had never forgiven her mother for refusing his suit and marrying his brother, and now here she was…accused of being immoral, and it was not a lie.
