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‘Do you, my dear?’ His bitter tone flayed her like a whiplash. ‘Had you trusted me enough to confide in me from the start, none of this need have happened.’
‘Forgive me. I was so anxious.’ Her voice was low, scarcely more than a whisper. ‘I did not think how it would look. Besides, if you had told everyone I had gone to my sick mother, it would not have seemed so bad.’
‘Had I found your letter at the start, I might have done so.’ He turned from her abruptly, walking to the window to gaze out. ‘If you cared for me you might have trusted me, Lucinda. I would have given you a fair hearing. Do you not think it was your duty to tell me before you accepted my proposal?’
‘Yes. I think now that I should have told you. I—I was afraid you would not wish to marry me if you knew that I had such a terrible secret.’
Justin turned to look at her, his face proud, eyebrows raised. ‘You wished to be the Duchess of Avonlea, I suppose?’
‘No…’ Lucinda hesitated, then, in a voice caught with tears, ‘I loved you, Justin. I loved you from the start. I suppose I hoped that if we were married you might forgive me.’
‘You thought I would accept you rather than face the scandal of divorce?’ His top lip curled scornfully. ‘Well, you were right in that, my dear. I have no intention of either annulling the marriage or divorcing you. I hope in time that we may begin again, have a sensible arrangement. I need heirs after all and you are my wife. I dare say we may brush over the scandal now that you have returned. I shall say that you were called to the bedside of a relative and your letter was misplaced—which is in part the truth.’
‘Justin…’ She took a step towards him, her hand outstretched. It fell to her side as she saw the anger in his handsome face. ‘Will you not believe that I care for you? Will you not try to forgive me?’
‘I shall certainly endeavour to forgive you,’ he said, but his eyes were cold, his mouth thinned with anger. ‘But you will forgive me if I do not fall at your feet and tell you that everything is as it was. You will remain my wife and I hope in time we may find a way to be comfortable together—but as for the feelings…the affection I bore you, for the moment I must be honest and tell you that I feel nothing but disappointment.’
‘Please…’ She gave a cry of distress. ‘I beg you not to hate me, Justin. I know that I have hurt you, but I was in some distress myself.’
‘I fail to understand why.’ His eyes held neither compassion nor warmth. ‘You had the advantage of me for you knew your situation. Why the letter should occasion such shock I do not know—unless you meant to conceal the truth from me forever?’
How could she explain? Justin might have understood had she been able to put her feelings into words—but the shock, the numbness, incredulity and fear she’d felt on learning of her child’s existence were too difficult to express.
‘I was asked to pay ten thousand pounds for the writer’s silence.’
‘Had you given the letter to me, I should either have paid or discovered the man’s identity and threatened him with imprisonment.’
‘You would still have hated me.’
‘I do not hate you,’ Justin said, a flicker of regret in his eyes. ‘I feel hurt, betrayed by your lack of trust, Lucinda. Had you confided in me at the beginning, I think I might have learned to accept the fact that you were raped. You were not to blame for that—or for bearing a child—but your deceit, your thoughtlessness in running away and your lack of faith in me, have given me some disquiet. I must say honestly that you are not the woman I thought you.’
His quiet words, his dignity and the hurt in his eyes struck into her heart. She was overcome with guilt, realising just how deeply her thoughtless behaviour had hurt him. Justin was angry with her now. Lucinda was not sure why she had not told him the whole truth. It would have been better to have the whole thing out, but she had hesitated and now it was too late. He would undoubtedly either return the child to the woman who had so mistreated her or have her adopted by a worthy couple.
No, she would not give her daughter up! Although it was only two weeks since she’d rescued her, Lucinda knew that she loved her too much to think of letting her be adopted, even by a kind and gentle woman.
She loved Justin, too, but he no longer cared for her. A part of her wanted to walk away, to tell him that she would not continue with a loveless marriage, but her lips were frozen and she could not speak.
‘You should go to your room and change. That gown is hardly suitable for my duchess,’ Justin said. ‘I am relieved that you are alive and unharmed, Lucinda. It will take a little time for me to come to terms with your revelation, but I hope in time that we may find a kind of contentment together.’
‘Yes, Justin. I am sorry to have caused you so much distress.’
‘I shall tell them to serve luncheon in an hour. Please do not keep us waiting.’
‘I shall not,’ Lucinda replied. Her pride was reasserting itself and with it a kind of anger. He was showing dignity and dealing with the situation in a civilised way, but she would almost rather he’d raged at her. ‘I am truly sorry for hurting you.’
He made no reply, merely inclining his head as she made him a slight curtsy and then left the room.
Lucinda knew that the servants must be agog to know where she’d been, but she carried herself with pride and dignity as she walked up to her own apartments. Alice was there and appeared to be busy tidying the place as she entered. She curtsied, looking slightly flustered.
‘Forgive me, my lady. Your room—his Grace searched it and then forbade me to touch it. I have been trying to make it respectable, but some of your things will need washing and ironing for they lay on the floor for a few days.’
‘You may help me change into a fresh gown, if there are any decent enough to wear?’
‘Yes, my lady. There is a morning gown here that is not creased.’
‘Take your time with the others,’ Lucinda said. ‘I shall not scold you if things are not just as they should be; it is not your fault.’
‘I fear the duke lost his temper, my lady.’
‘Yes, I fear he did and that was my fault. Was he very angry with you, Alice?’
‘For a time,’ the girl admitted. ‘I did not mind so very much, my lady. I am glad to see you returned.’
‘If I were to ask you to help me—to keep my request private—would you do so?’
Alice did not hesitate as she said, ‘Yes, my lady. I would do anything for you.’
‘I am not certain yet,’ Lucinda said and smiled at her. ‘Do not look so anxious, Alice. It is nothing very terrible—but I might need you to take a message for me later.’
‘Yes, my lady. You can trust me. I swear it on my life.’
Lucinda hid a smile. Her maid probably thought she had a lover. If she decided to trust her, she would soon learn the truth, but for the moment she must be cautious.
Lucinda was determined not to give her daughter up. She thought that rather than accept that Angela should be adopted, she would leave Justin and find a way to live independently. However, what little money she had was almost gone and she was not certain how she could earn her living.
No respectable lady would take her either as a governess or as a companion. Even if she did find work in a respectable household, the discovery that she had an illegitimate daughter would lead to instant dismissal without a reference. All that left was work as a seamstress or hard manual labour in a mill or on the land; even work as a servant would be denied her in most respectable houses.
Justin did not wish for more scandal and for that reason he had decided they would stay together and try to find a way to live comfortably. She supposed that when his anger or disappointment had eased a little, he might still find her attractive.
The thought of what she had done was almost unbearable. Justin had looked at her with such admiration and gentle warmth when he courted her, showing such patience and kindness to a shy young woman—and now his eyes were cold and unforgiving. She did not know how to bear his coldness, but the thought of never seeing him again was equally as painful.
She held back the foolish tears. What had she expected? She ought to have known that her husband would not accept her wayward behaviour as if it meant nothing. He’d believed her modest and innocent and must think her a cheat for having hidden her shameful past.
At least she had a roof over her head and the generous allowance Avonlea had given her in the marriage contract would be hers to use as she wished. She could use some of it to pay for Angela to be properly cared for nearby. It was not what she wanted, but what was her alternative? She knew she would find it difficult, if not impossible, to bring up her daughter in the way she wished alone. Perhaps it was best this way—and yet at the back of her mind she feared Justin’s disgust and anger when he discovered her deceit.
She had hurt her husband too much already and she did love him deeply, whatever he might believe. If she left him again, it would convince him that she had never loved him and he would surely divorce her. Perhaps if she stayed he might learn to forgive her—and if he did, one day, she would tell him the rest of her story. It might make him angry again, but perhaps he would understand that the pain of discovering that her child had been stolen from her had made her forget everything else for a time.
Oh, it was all such a coil! Lucinda wished that she could return to the day Avonlea had asked her to wed him. Had she told him then he might have withdrawn his offer, but he might have accepted the truth and forgiven her—yet even had he done so, he would never have accepted her child.
She had no choice but to keep the child’s existence a secret from him.
Justin went for a long hard ride after luncheon. Lucinda had looked so serene and beautiful when she came down to the dining room. He had felt a rush of desire at seeing her in one of the beautiful gowns he had purchased for her use. She was his wife, the woman he had chosen, and her revelations had left him feeling bruised and bewildered.
She was not the shy innocent girl he had thought her. Justin had believed her reticence in Harrogate had sprung from modesty and a natural desire to know him better. Now he wondered if he had been deceived in her character. Could he believe her story of rape? She had not told him before the wedding that she’d born an illegitimate child, nor had she given him any reason to believe that she was not the pure untouched woman he thought her. For a brief moment he doubted, but then dismissed the thought as unworthy. Lucinda had not been honest with him at the start, but he would not think less of her for what that evil man had done to her. The hurt in her eyes as she told her story was proof of her innocence, though she ought to have told him before they were wed.
Yet she ought never to have been faced with such a dilemma. No young girl should be subjected to such wickedness.
He thought that if he knew the man’s identity he would break the rogue’s neck. Fierce emotions raged through him as he considered taking revenge for the hurt inflicted on a vulnerable girl of sixteen. Justin would thrash the devil to within an inch of his life. Indeed, he would gladly see the man dead.
He wished that she’d kept the blackmail letter. He might have been able to get to the bottom of this business, but, as things stood, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Who had sent such a letter on their wedding day? How had that person discovered the secret that Lucinda’s father had so carefully hushed up?
Of course these things were never a complete secret. Someone knew the child had been born. There must surely have been a doctor or a midwife at the birth—or perhaps a servant in Lucinda’s grandmother’s house. It would be there he should begin his search if he intended to make enquiries.
Did he wish to discover more? Justin frowned. It was after all his wife’s secret, but if she were being blackmailed, he had a duty to protect her—and not just for the sake of his good name. Even if she paid the fellow—or woman—to keep quiet, they would come back for more. It was the nature of such creatures.
There was only one way to deal with blackmail and that was to meet threat with threat. He would make whomever had done this thing shiver in their boots and, if they continued with their evil purpose, he would see them punished.
The agents who had searched for Lucinda were discreet. He was certain he could trust them to discover the whereabouts of Lucinda’s grandmother—or, if she were no longer living, her servants. No need to disclose his wife’s secret. He would question the servants and then, if they answered openly, any doctor or midwife who had presided over the birth of Lucinda’s child.
She had told him the child had died—but was that certain? Justin frowned as he thought about the probable scenario. Mr Seymour would not have permitted his daughter to keep the child. It was possible that he might have ordered that she be told the babe was dead while in truth he’d had it adopted.
The net widened, for anyone involved in the handling of that secret adoption might have decided to use blackmail when they heard of Lucinda’s wedding plans. It was clear that it was her marriage to a wealthy man that had brought the toad crawling out from under its stone. Someone had seen an opportunity because she was to be the wife of an important man.
Justin felt angry that his wife had been subjected to such a foul blackmail on her wedding day. It had been meant to be a joyous occasion and had ended in distress for them both.
He felt a pang of regret when he recalled his own harshness towards her. He had felt such jealousy, such disappointment and pain when he learned that she was not the shy virgin he’d thought her that he’d lashed out. He’d promised he would not be unkind to her and he’d broken his word. He was uncertain why he had acted in such an uncharacteristic manner. At the start he had believed he could accept what she’d told him; after all, it had happened before they met—but then emotions he had not recognised welled up in him and his anger erupted. Why? Yes, she had deceived him, but he felt it was more her uncertainty that made her hold back rather than deliberate malice. At one time he’d briefly considered marrying a widow and the loss of the lady’s maidenhead to her first husband had not disturbed him one whit—why then should he feel such rage because Lucinda was not a virgin?
Why should he be jealous? It had not been meant to be a love match. He’d chosen her because she did not throw herself at him every time he so much as looked at her, as almost every other lady he’d met did constantly. It was her smile, her quiet charm and her sweetness that had made him notice her. She had not changed. It was Justin who felt differently, though at this moment he could not explain the conflicting emotions that raged within him or their cause.
Justin knew that he was in the wrong, but for the moment he could not quite forgive her for not confiding in him sooner. The look in her eyes had wrenched at his heart. She’d seemed to beg for something—something he had not been able to give. His own lack disturbed him, adding to his feeling of rage and he’d lashed out without thinking. In time his hurt would ease and he hoped that they might still have enough respect for each other to make a go of their marriage, but for the moment he needed to be alone.
He would tell Lucinda that evening. There was some business in London that needed his attention. It meant that he would be away for perhaps ten days. When he returned he hoped that he would have come to terms with his disappointment and they might begin again. It must be better for both of them to go on with the marriage than suffer a painful divorce. He would recover from the scandal, but she would be ruined. He could not do that to her. It would be cruel and unfair.
Relieved to have settled the matter in his mind, he returned home. The servants must not suspect anything, for there had been enough scandal. He would take tea with Lucinda in the small salon just as if nothing had ever come between them. If he suspected that he had not been quite truthful with himself in his motives for his decision, he was not yet ready to face the possibility that he might care more deeply for his lovely wife than he’d thought possible.
Romantic love was a myth. To give one’s heart without reserve was to invite pain. Affection was sufficient and once he had recovered from this absurd attack of jealous rage, he would resort to being the considerate husband he’d always intended to be.
That night, Lucinda sat in front of her dressing mirror brushing her hair when Justin knocked and asked if he might enter. She gave permission and he came in, looking at her oddly as she stood and turned to face him. Something in his expression spoke of hunger and a need to take her in his arms and for a moment she hoped that he intended to make up their quarrel, but his next words chilled her.
‘Forgive me, I did not intend to disturb you, Lucinda. I said nothing downstairs for I would not have the servants hear me. I must go to London tomorrow on business. You will give me your word to remain here and do nothing to cause more scandal.’
His harsh words hurt her. ‘Why should I cause more scandal? Can you not accept that I am sorry for harming you?’
‘Perhaps. I was merely making myself clear. I need a little space to come to terms with what you told me earlier. I should be no longer than ten days—perhaps less. When I return we shall take time to know each other properly. I think perhaps we wed in haste. We know very little about one another’s lives.’
‘I told you that when you asked me to wed you, Justin.’
‘I believed I knew you,’ he said and a tiny nerve flicked at his temple. ‘Now I know that I was wrong. I think we must both work at this, Lucinda. I did not mean to be so harsh earlier. Had I not cared for you, it would not have been such a shock to learn that you were not what I thought you.’
‘Yes, I understand you must feel disgust and anger,’ she said, but kept her head high. ‘I have apologised for not telling you—but I am as I was. I did nothing to encourage that man’s attack, I promise you.’
‘You will give me his name?’
‘What do you intend to do?’ She was startled, her eyes on his face.
‘He may well be your blackmailer—had you not thought of him?’
‘No,’ Lucinda whispered, putting a hand to her throat. ‘I have not thought about who wrote the note.’
‘You have not wondered?’ Justin looked puzzled. ‘Surely you must realise that whomever it was will most likely try again. Next time I insist that you bring the letter to me.’
‘Yes,’ she said, not daring to meet his eyes. ‘But it was not signed.’
‘No, it would not be—but sometimes there is a clue. Was it well written or badly formed?’
‘Oh, I had not thought…well written, I think. Yes, the letters were clear and there were no spelling or grammar mistakes.’
‘Then it makes it more likely that it was either your father’s friend himself—or perhaps the doctor who assisted at the birth. Who else would know your secret, Lucinda?’
‘Grandmama, my parents and the doctor—also my grandmother’s servants. They knew what had happened, I am sure.’
‘Yes, they must, but most servants could not write a letter of that quality. I think it narrows the options a little.’
‘Unless…Grandmama had friends. She may have told someone in confidence.’ Lucinda raised her eyes to his. ‘Why is it important?’
‘Because I must be ready in case whomever it is tries again. You will not pay, Lucinda. You will have nothing to do with this person, whomever it may be. I shall deal with the problem, do you hear me?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Very well. We shall not speak of this again unless we must.’ He moved towards her. For a moment she thought he meant to touch her or kiss her, but instead he picked up a perfume bottle from the dressing table and held it to his nose. ‘This is such a haunting scent. I kept smelling it when you were away and it brought you closer. I am glad to have you back, Lucinda.’
She swallowed hard. ‘Thank you for accepting me.’
‘You are my wife. What else should I do?’
The expression in his eyes caused Lucinda’s heart to race. For a moment she thought he would take her into his arms and kiss her. Had he done so she would have clung to him, returned his kisses and then confessed her secret, but the look faded. He inclined his head to her, then turned and walked away without touching her or speaking further.
Lucinda stared at the door for some moments after he closed it behind him. She almost wished that he had raged at her. His quiet, controlled anger was hard to bear. She could not blame him, because she’d brought it on herself, but it still hurt. Justin had been so courteous towards her, so careful and caring of her feelings and her comfort. Where had that charming, gentle, teasing gentleman gone? Would she ever see him again—or had her thoughtless deceit destroyed him?
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she discovered that she could no longer hold back her tears. They trickled unheeded down her cheeks for some minutes, then she wiped them away. She would not waste time feeling sorry for herself.
She must think about the future. If she was to keep her daughter and hide the secret from Justin, it would mean taking Alice into her confidence. Her maid was honest and would help her by taking messages to her daughter and making excuses for her absence when she went to visit the child.
It was not an ideal arrangement keeping Angela in the old cottage at the edge of the estate, but it was all she could do for the moment. She had been so lucky to find that Nanny was still alive and living a precarious existence since her dismissal from Mrs Seymour’s employ.
‘She is a little love, but too thin,’ Nanny said as Lucinda explained the circumstances. ‘Yes, of course I will look after your daughter for you, my love. I never agreed with the way your father treated you—and to tell you she was dead, that was wicked. Had I been in a position to help you before this I should have done so, but I was dismissed instantly for having a bad influence on you.’
‘That was unfair.’
‘Well, it is past and the child is the important one now.’ Nanny smiled and touched her head, but Angela sniffled and looked apprehensive, as though she feared she would be smacked or bullied.
‘She has been ill-treated, so you must not scold her too much. I know her speech is bad, but correct her kindly, Nanny. She will learn by example.’
‘Yes, of course she will. I never smacked you, Lucinda, and I shall not smack this little darling—but she must start to learn her manners for she is your daughter.’
‘For the moment I cannot acknowledge her. My husband would not allow it.’
Nanny looked at her sadly. ‘You should tell your husband the truth, Lucinda. He couldn’t let you acknowledge her, of course, but if he is a good man he will allow you to see her—and he’ll find a decent place for us to live.’
