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The child peeked at her mother, and after a moment, Nora nodded. The little girl turned back to him and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Ar-thur Russell.” The words were pronounced carefully with a youngster’s uncertain speech and entirely too endearing.
If his heart had not already been smitten, it would surely have melted when the child offered him the somewhat bedraggled flower in her hand. He took it gently and tucked it into the breast pocket of his suit, careful not to damage it further. “Thank you.”
He rose to his feet, careful not to dislodge the bloom. “Nora.”
“You have not yet explained why you came, Your Grace.” Her tone was guarded. It hurt, but it was well deserved.
“No, he has not.” Nora’s aunt had come over as well, and she was peering between them. “However, I rather think that might be a discussion to be had over tea. I am certain you are quite parched if you have journeyed from London as Nora did.”
His throat was dry, but he doubted it had anything to do with the long journey. Nonetheless, he inclined his head. “I would appreciate it.”
“Then let us move this discussion indoors, and you may explain yourself while we take refreshment.” The matron of the house held out her hand to Lydia with a kindly smile. “Come, dear. Let us go see cook about a tray and perhaps some biscuits while we let your mother and the Duke speak in a bit of peace.”
Lydia’s expression lit up at the mention of biscuits, and she needed only the smallest of nudges from her mother to transfer her grip to Miss Dartmouth’s hand. The older lady looked over her shoulder. “The receiving room next to the parlor would be best, I think.”
Nora nodded. “Yes, Aunt Evelyn.” She waited until the matron and the little girl were inside, then gestured. “This way, Your Grace.”
Your Grace. It was better than Duke of Bedford, but he had rather hoped she would call him Arthur. He followed her to the receiving room and waited for her to speak first.
There was a long moment of silence, and then she turned to face him. “Why did you follow me? You made it quite clear at our last encounter that you did not want me.” Her voice was remarkably steady, though her eyes were bright with the threat of tears.
“To tell you that I am sorry for every harsh word I spoke and that I was a brash fool who ought to be thrashed. For allowing drink to cloud my wits. For letting myself listen to the poisoned whispers of a lying, dishonorable knave.”
“I do not understand.” Her voice was wavering, uncertainty in her blue eyes.
He sighed. “After you left the dinner, my friend—or former friend, I should say—Huxley, insisted that you must have gone to a lover, that you were only playing me for a fool. He insisted I knew nothing of you, and there was no reason to think you faithful to anything more than the idea of a life of security and luxury as a Duke’s wife.”
“And you believed him.” There was anger in her voice, and it was entirely deserved. It was the hurt that flowed under him that cut him to the quick.
“I tried not to. But the night passed, and you did not return. I had begun drinking after the first hour, and the more I drank, the more plausible his arguments sounded. Until I had worked myself into the state in which you found me.”
“And why should I believe that you have changed your opinion of me if it can be so easily swayed by spirits and the words of your friend?”
“Huxley is no friend of mine. An acquaintance only, and even that is at an end.” He had been pacing, only glancing her way now and then, but now he turned to her and met her unhappy gaze with his own, willing her to see the truth of his words as he spoke them. “I’ll not be associated with a heartless bounder and rake who not only seduces a woman and gets her with child, but leaves her to fend for herself and then tries to ruin her prospects for his own reputation, without thought to her or the child.”
Nora’s eyes went wide, her expression flashing through a number of emotions. She reached out and put a hand on the back of a nearby chair as though she were overcome by a fit of the vapors. “You... you know…?”
“That Huxley is the man who seduced you and whose attentions resulted in Lydia’s birth and the circumstances that led you to be a maid in my mother’s employ? Yes. He told me himself.” He permitted himself a mirthless laugh. “He had no intention to do so, I warrant, but he did not know that you had only told me the incident occurred in Bath, and gave himself away.”
“And that was enough to change your opinion of me again?” Disbelief colored her tone.
“It was enough to make me realize that my feelings for you have never wavered, save when he was trying to sway them. Enough to make me realize that he must have known who you were the first time he saw you properly, that night at the ball and that all his blandishments of your character were meant to prevent the chance that you should reveal the truth of his.”
He stepped forward, heartened when she did not move away from him. “Nora... I was a fool. I will own to that, and I shall do whatever I must to make amends for the pain my actions have caused you. But I love you, all of you, and I would beg you to permit me the chance to spend the rest of my life—of both our lives—proving that.”
“And my daughter?”
“Welcome as my own.” He took her shoulders gently, wanting to draw her close once more, but understanding that she needed to see his face and the sincerity of his words. “I love you. All of you, including your motherhood and the daughter you give your devotion to.”
“Even knowing…” her voice trailed off.
“Even knowing. Her father’s character is no stain on hers or yours. And I…” He took a deep breath. “I... I took a liberty. I did not want Huxley to have a claim to her. To you. So I... I may have started a rumor that her father was a member of the Royal Navy, lost at sea before the banns could be posted.
* * *
Nora felt her breath catch in her throat as realization swept over her.
A father in the Royal Navy and lost at sea... no one would be surprised that she’d not laid claim, and it was the perfect reason for the lack of a marriage banns being posted. It was even a good reason for her refusal to marry at her father’s orders. A father lost at sea might one day return home.
