Twenty-Two
Yvette awakened slowly, deliciously. She’d been having the most extraordinary dream. Jeremy had been lying naked between her legs, doing exquisitely shameless things to her that made her feel like a woman. His woman. Even now, thinking about it, her legs fell open—
She froze. She was sore. As if . . . as if . . .
Heavenly day! She sat bolt upright as she remembered it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a fantasy or a hope that she one day might experience the melting joys of marital bliss. She’d experienced them. Or at least some of them.
More memories surfaced, and she remembered why she’d fallen into Jeremy’s arms with no restraint.
Flying from her bed, she hastened to the window to see if his equipage still sat out front. Not that its absence would tell her much—she wouldn’t know whether that meant he’d left or if his curricle was safely stowed in the carriage house.
But looking out, she found a different carriage entirely in the drive. It wasn’t Jeremy’s or Warren’s or anyone’s that she recognized. It had a crest, but try as she might, she couldn’t make it out from here.
She rang for her maid, then began her ablutions. Within moments, the girl rushed inside as if she’d merely been awaiting the call. “Oh, milady, thank heaven you’re awake! You’ll never guess what’s going on.”
Her heart faltered. He was leaving after all. But in a different carriage? That made no sense.
“Mr. Keane’s sister has arrived. Did you know he had a sister?”
“Yes,” she said, with a sinking in her stomach. A sister who meant to carry him back to America. Curse it all!
Rushing to her bureau, she jerked out her corset and petticoat. “We have to hurry,” she told her maid, who was already rushing over to help her into her undergarments. “He can’t leave before I talk to him.”
“Yes, milady.”
It took far too long to get her laced up, and the whole time it was being done, she was barking orders. “I need my best silk stockings. And the simplest coiffeur you can manage. And for a gown . . .” She paused to think.
“The white day dress with the pink flowers?” her maid supplied helpfully.
“No, definitely not the white. His sister is supposed to be quite the energetic sort, so something more sporting. My red redingote dress with the purple sash.”
Today of all days, she mustn’t look insipid. She had to convince Jeremy to stay in England, at least long enough for her to . . . to . . .
To what?
As her maid helped her into her clothes, Yvette tried to think. She hadn’t accepted his offer last night, and honestly, she wasn’t sure he’d even meant it. He might turn out to be like plenty of other men who bedded a woman and ran. If so, then keeping him here was pointless.
And if he renewed his attentions? Offered her marriage again?
Her heart pounded at the very thought. It would mean he hadn’t just been spouting nonsense last night.
Still, she didn’t want to marry him if he was only offering out of a sense of duty. He’d done that before and it had ended badly. But neither could she bear the idea of his leaving her here to live without him.
As a hollow feeling of panic rose in her chest, she blinked back tears. He couldn’t leave. He mustn’t!
You’re in love with him, you fool.
“God strike me blind!” Yvette swore.
“Excuse me, milady?” her maid squeaked.
Heavens, she shouldn’t have said it aloud. What was wrong with her? “Forgive me. I was just trying out one of the new oaths for my dictionary.”
Her maid said nothing, and Yvette ignored her scandalized silence. Meanwhile, ten other street oaths played a refrain through Yvette’s head.
She was in love with him. How on earth had she done that?
By watching him struggle with his guilt over the deaths of his wife and son. By glimpsing the man beneath the mask, and realizing he was a man she could care for deeply. A man she could love.
That was why she couldn’t stand the idea of his leaving. Because deep down, she hoped that if he stayed, she could persuade him to be in love with her, too.
She winced. Of course that never worked. One fell in love or one did not. One was never persuaded into it by another person.
“Milady?” her maid asked, dragging her from her thoughts.
She glanced around to see the servant offering her a choice of shoes. “The ones with the purple embroidery. And I’ve changed my mind about my hair. Just tie a ribbon about it and leave it at that.”
“Milady, you’re a grown woman!” her maid said, scandalized yet again. “Do you want to shock his family?”
“Oh, all right, but make it quick.” At the moment, his family was lucky she wasn’t going down in her night rail and wrapper.
When her maid was finally done, Yvette forced herself to descend the stairs with some decorum. But her composure faltered when she reached the foyer to find no one was there.
Hearing sounds from the breakfast room, she went there first. As she entered, she spotted Edwin at his usual spot at the table. He wore a forced smile as he spoke to the diminutive woman seated next to him, who looked like a sprite from the forest. Or from Ireland, given her red hair.
It had to be Miss Keane. Despite the woman’s entirely different coloring and size, she had Jeremy’s gorgeous blue eyes. And there was something in her smile that reminded Yvette of him, even though Miss Keane’s fashion choices were utterly different.
Edwin rose. “Ah, there’s my sister now.”
As Yvette walked forward to greet them Edwin seemed to watch her with more intensity than usual, as if assessing her mood or something. It alarmed her exceedingly. Could he tell what she’d spent half her night doing? Did it show in her face? What if he knew? Oh, Lord!
Beside him, Miss Keane smiled affably. “So you’re the woman my brother has been painting.”
And swiving.
She swallowed hard. She had to get hold of herself, before she gave everything away. Edwin was now wearing his polite endurance-of-strangers face, and clearly he wouldn’t be wearing that if he suspected anything. He’d be wearing an I’m-going-to-kill-Keane face.
Yvette held out her hand to Jeremy’s sister. “Yes, I’m the subject of your brother’s latest portrait. We’re delighted to have you here. Mr. Keane has told us so much about you and your family.”
The woman’s smile faltered as she took Yvette’s hand and released it. “Has he? I do hope it wasn’t all bad.”
“No, not bad at all.” Yvette flashed the woman a reassuring look, though he really hadn’t said much about his sister. She sifted through their conversations to find something complimentary. “He told me you’re very capable of taking care of yourself.”
“That sounds like something he’d say. It’s his way of rationalizing the fact that he refuses to come home to Montague and help me with the mills.”
Because his wife and child died at Montague.
Yvette bit back the words, though the sudden realization settled hard in her chest. Time to change the subject. “So when was the last time you saw him?”
“The week he set sail for England, earlier this year. He met me and Mama for the day in Philadelphia, as he often does.” Miss Keane sighed. “That’s when he told us he was making this trip. He said he’d be gone a few months . . . but . . .” She forced a game smile that barely masked the worry in her eyes. “A few months turned into eight. As he likes to say, he blows with the wind.”
A painful pressure squeezed Yvette’s heart. “Yes, I gathered.” And men who blew with the wind didn’t marry earl’s daughters and settle into comfortable existences on country estates.
“Lady Yvette,” said a rumbling voice from behind her.
She whirled around to find Mr. Bonnaud standing there. Why was Jane’s brother-in-law here? Oh, right. He was also cousin to the Keanes by marriage. He must have accompanied Miss Keane to Stoke Towers.
“Good morning, Mr. Bonnaud,” she said brightly. “I hope you had good weather for your journey.”
“Yes.” The word was clipped. “Actually . . . er . . . Mr. Keane is in your brother’s study and sent me to fetch you. There’s a matter he wishes to discuss with you privately.”
Panic gripped her. What was wrong with Jeremy? Didn’t he know that her brother would suspect something if he was setting up private meetings with her?
But oddly, Edwin didn’t look upset. He wore a fond expression that was utterly unlike him. “Go on, then,” he said. “Don’t keep the man waiting.”
This was strange. Since when was he pushing her toward Jeremy?
Then her stomach sank as she realized why. Jeremy wanted a moment alone to say his farewells before he left with his sister. And Edwin was so ecstatic over the man’s leaving that he couldn’t wait for it to be done.
Her temper rose the closer she got to the study. She refused to let Jeremy go without a fight. She had a trick or two up her sleeve.
Breezing into the study, she said, “You can’t leave yet. You still owe me a portrait.”
With a startled expression, Jeremy turned to face her. Then a sly smile kicked up one corner of his mouth. “I thought I owed your brother a portrait. As I recall, you weren’t that keen on it.”
“Well, I’m keen on it now. You have to finish it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you also still owe me a chance to find my brother’s son. So you see, you can’t leave yet. You haven’t done what you promised.”
A shadow crossed his face, and his smile vanished. “Not the first part, no. But I have done what I promised regarding your brother.”
That knocked the breath from her. “Wh-what do you mean?”
He glanced down at the desk and tapped his fingers restlessly on what looked like a small stack of papers. Then he came around to face her, his gaze steady. “Bonnaud has found your nephew.”
Not expecting that, she swayed a little on her feet. He darted forward to catch her around the waist. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I should have given you more warning.”
Her mind stuttered into a gallop, putting things together. The appearance of Mr. Bonnaud here. The odd way Jeremy had looked at her when he’d called her in. “But how . . . When . . .” She narrowed an accusing gaze on him. “I asked you not to involve your relations!”
“Because you feared that they would be indiscreet. But I knew otherwise.”
She pulled away from him. “Oh, you did, did you?”
“Yes. And you’ll have to trust my judgment in that because I cannot tell you why. But I had good reason to believe in their discretion. So I hired them. It was better than your risking your reputation to find the lad.” He smiled faintly. “And I knew you’d never stop looking.”
The warmth in his eyes spread a soothing heat through her jangled nerves. “When did you arrange—”
“The day after the masquerade ball. They’ve been working on it ever since.”
Oh, Lord. All this time. And he’d engineered it for her. How very sweet. Surely it showed a level of caring beyond the ever-present desire simmering between them. “So . . . so that’s why Mr. Bonnaud is here.”
“Yes. To consult with you and your brother. Bonnaud cannot continue to pursue this without the earl’s consent.”
Her heart sank. “No, no, no, no . . . Edwin mustn’t be involved. He will never forgive me!”
Jeremy stepped up to steady her with a hand under her elbow. “First of all, Blakeborough isn’t your enemy. He is perfectly capable of listening to reason.”
“That’s what you think. When he hears about the brothel visit and our bargain and—”
“We don’t need to tell him any of that, sweetheart. We’ll say that you confided your concerns to me, and I decided to find the boy on my own. I enlisted the help of the Duke’s Men because I knew that, as my family, they would keep the secrets of me and my friends. Your brother need never hear the whole truth.”
When she just stood there, trembling, he added softly, “But you must tell him what’s going on. Otherwise, the child will be sent to the Foundling Hospital.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?”
“The lad’s mother wants to marry, and her would-be husband doesn’t want her by-blow hanging about. So if Blakeborough doesn’t step in to help, she means to place the boy elsewhere. And you’ll lose all chance of overseeing his care.”
Her heart flipped over in her chest. “She can’t do that. He deserves a home, a family.”
“Well, he’s not going to get one unless you involve your brother. Only Blakeborough has the kind of connections—and the motivation to use them—to find a deserving family for the lad.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she admitted, “That’s probably true.”
“So you’re willing to bring your brother into it?”
With a sigh, she nodded. She couldn’t let the poor child go to the Foundling Hospital. He deserved to have a loving adoptive mother.
“Good.” Jeremy squeezed her elbow reassuringly. “First, I think we should send for your brother, so the two of us can explain everything. Then we can bring Bonnaud in to present the details of his report, which is on the desk. I haven’t had time to read the whole thing, but he gave me the gist of it. I’m sure he will be happy to answer your questions. All right?”
She released a shaky breath. “Yes.”
As Jeremy stepped into the hall to have a servant summon Edwin, she wandered to the desk to look at the papers. A name caught her eye: Elias Samuel. Miss Moreton had named her child after his father.
Unexpectedly, tears burned Yvette’s eyes. It was nearly over. All that was left was to prove, to Edwin’s satisfaction, that Elias was Samuel’s boy. Then Yvette could deliver the letter to Miss Moreton—or Edwin could—and could arrange for Meredith to take care of their nephew. Her obligation to Samuel would be fulfilled.
And Jeremy’s obligation to her would be fulfilled, as well. If he chose to leave, she had no way to compel him to stay, the paintings notwithstanding.
“Are you all right?” Jeremy asked softly as he reentered the room.
She blinked back her tears. She would die before she let him see how upset she’d become over his leaving. “I’m fine. I just . . . can’t believe they were able to find him.”
He came over to place his hand comfortingly on her waist. “Yes, well—”
The door opened and Edwin entered. “Don’t let me interrupt,” her brother said in an unusually jovial voice. “I see that you’ve told her, Keane. And I assume that since you’ve called me in, she has accepted your offer.”
“What offer?” Yvette stared at Jeremy, whose hand was still on her waist, and the answer hit her. “You’ve already asked my brother for permission to marry me?”
“Yes.” His eyes locked with hers. “This morning before anyone arrived. He said that his answer is dependent upon yours.” He took her hand. “And so is my future. So I do hope you’ll say yes.”
She noticed he hadn’t mentioned love or any great yearning for her company, or anything else to indicate that his feelings about her had changed since last night. Before she leapt willy-nilly into his arms, she had to determine if he was still just offering for her out of duty.
“Why do you wish to marry me?” she asked.
With a furtive glance at Edwin, he murmured, “You know why.”
“Actually, I don’t. Pray enlighten me.”
Would he reveal what they’d done together? Or drum up some other reason they ought to wed?
He just stared at her, looking frustrated. It was as she’d feared. He was marrying her because it was the right thing to do.
She drew her hand from his. “I’m sorry, Mr. Keane, but—”
“No, don’t refuse me yet. At least think about it.” His eyes burned into hers, full of feeling. Why couldn’t he express it?
But he was right. She should not refuse him out of hand. “Very well. I shall take some time to consider the offer.”
“Wait a minute, Yvette,” Edwin said. “If he wasn’t asking you to marry him when I came in, what the devil was he doing?”
Oh, dear. Time to be honest with Edwin.
Forcing a smile, she turned to her brother. “It turns out that Mr. Keane has managed to locate Miss Peggy Moreton and her child.” As she saw the shock spreading over Edwin’s face, she gulped down apprehension. “You’ll be pleased to hear that Samuel’s son has been found at last.”