Chapter Twenty-One
Bridget had regained consciousness, but she was weak and in a lot of pain.
She’d tripped over a tree root and hit her head on another, which had left her with a nasty gash and bruises.
The doctor had given stringent orders that she rest, and Aunt Marianne was taking them seriously.
She had barred Nate from Bridget’s room, though he promised not to do anything more than sit quietly by her bedside.
He just wanted her to know that he cared—that he was there if she needed him.
But Aunt Marianne wouldn’t budge. She and Eliza kept guard of their patient like a two-headed Cerebus, and while he longed to be the third head, they rejected his offers outright. There was nothing he could do but wait.
In the meantime, he did what he could for Bridget.
First, he summoned Abigail and Sarah to his study and gave them a stern warning.
There’d be no more disgracing Bridget’s ancestral home.
Villa De Lacey was going to be the exclusive and respectable inn Bridget hoped for, and the housemaids were ordered to play their part or look for employment elsewhere.
Next, he resolved to revive the investigation into Madam Bouffant’s death.
If justice for the courtesan would make Bridget happy, then he’d get it for her.
*
“There you are, Nathaniel.” Nate heard Helen’s voice behind him.
He turned. “My lady,” he said stiffly. It irked him that she continued to call him by his Christian name after she’d lost that privilege. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, Nate,” she said, slinking toward him. “You don’t have to be so formal.”
He said nothing and waited for her to answer his question.
She pursed her always-tempting cherry lips. Although, he realized, he no longer felt the desire they’d always inspired, especially as he now recognized she used her beauty to manipulate men. Why hadn’t he realized this before?
“I require an extra room, but it seems as if all your staff have disappeared. I can’t find that little blond housekeeper of yours.” She tossed her head.
“If you mean Miss De Lacey, she’s the hostess, not my housekeeper. And she’s been taken ill. Why do you need another room? Is yours not satisfactory?”
“It’s not for me. It’s for my son and his governess. They’re arriving today.”
Nate’s stomach dropped. Her son. A little over two years old, she’d said. The child was older than her marriage. Nausea rose in his throat. He’d tried not to think about it, but that was easier said than done when the child was going to be under the same roof as him.
“Nathaniel?” she said. “Did you hear what I said? My son, Henry, and his governess will be arriving any minute now.”
Henry. “Yes, I heard you. It’s fine. We have extra rooms. It won’t be a problem. Is that all, Lady Luxton?” Nausea rose in Nate’s throat. He needed air. He started down the stairs.
“I should like you to meet him,” she said. “He has my eyes but your lovely hair.”
It was as if a boulder had landed on his chest, but he did his best not to let Helen see his distress. Instead, he ignored her comment and continued moving away from her, working hard to maintain a sedate pace when all he wanted to do was run.
“It was your brother’s doing, you know,” she said, following him.
He gripped the banister. Helen knew all his weak spots and had no qualms about digging her nails into them.
“Edward didn’t think me good enough for you. He threatened to cut you off without a penny if you married me. And I couldn’t stand the thought of us being poor. I just couldn’t!”
Do not engage with her, he told himself. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed Eliza approaching with Bijou under her arm.
Nate’s heart lifted. “Eliza,” he said when she reached him. “How is Bridget?”
“Still weak,” Eliza said stiffly. The maid was a woman of few words, so she did not elaborate.
“Can I see her soon?”
Eliza shook her head. “Her aunt will not permit it.”
“Will you ask her?”
“I must take Bijou for his walk.”
“Of course,” Nate said. “You can ask her when you return.”
Eliza narrowed her dark eyes and put Bijou down. The little white terrier wagged his tail and shot across the hallway toward the front door.
“Bijou, heel!” the maid ordered, scurrying to catch up with him. Then she picked him up and turned, heading toward the servants’ exit. As she passed Nate again, he could have sworn he heard her mumble, “Curse you!”
“Goodness, it seems to me your housemaids have the run of the inn,” Helen said, sweeping across the foyer. She stopped next to the front door and gave him an imperious look. “Am I to open the door myself?”
The gentleman in Nate would not allow him to ignore the lady, so he followed, despite knowing that he should turn and walk the other way.
Helen waited for him to open the front door. As soon as he did, a stately black coach came to a halt in front of the house. Her haughty attitude disappeared as she rushed outside.
“It’s him. My Henry is here.” She lifted her skirts to hurry across the portico and down the steps.
Nate stood by the door, watching as a middle-aged woman stepped out of the carriage carrying a young boy. The child clutched his nanny’s dress with both fists and wailed as his mother attempted to take him from the woman.
“Do put him down, Miss Eagleton. You baby him too much.”
The nanny put the child down, but he clung to her skirt and cried. “I think he’s tired, my lady. It’s been a long journey for him.”
“Oh, Henry!” Helen said. “I’ve spent too much time away from you, haven’t I?” She picked up the child and murmured something in his ear while gently swaying two and fro. The little lad was soon placated. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and laid his head on his mother’s shoulder.
Nate’s heart wrenched. He’d harbored so much anger toward Helen for so long that the warm sensation he felt upon seeing her hold her child unnerved him. Despite wanting to let go, he could not turn away. If this child—Henry—belonged to him, he would not be able to walk away from Helen.
He held his breath as Helen ascended the steps leading to the house with Henry in her arms. Nate wavered, torn between wanting a closer look at the child and needing to keep his distance from Helen.
Before he could think to move, Helen was upon him with the child.
She stepped inside and said, “Henry is tired. He’ll need to get settled in his room as soon as possible. ”
“Of course.” He pulled the bell cord to summon one of the maids. “Someone will be here shortly to see to the room.” He glanced at the child—a sweet-faced little boy with large, dark eyes like his mother’s, thick dark curls, and plump, rosy lips.
Nate’s chest contracted. Could he be mine?
His thoughts were interrupted when Abigail appeared at his side.
“You rang, sir.” She curtsied.
“Lady Luxton’s son and his nanny have arrived. Show them to one of the empty rooms upstairs. Then fetch the footman to see to their luggage.”
“Yes, sir,” Abigail said, and Nate was pleased to see that his earlier lecture had not fallen on deaf ears.
“Nathaniel, darling, do be a friend and carry Henry upstairs for me. He’s getting awfully heavy.
” Before Nate could object, she thrust the child into his arms. Surprisingly, the exhausted little lad didn’t resist. He simply snuggled in the crook of Nate’s neck and stuck his thumb back into his mouth.
An odd mixture of tenderness and fear consumed him.
He both wanted to embrace the child and give him back to his mother at the same time.
“I think he likes you,” Lady Luxton said.
“Where is Lord Luxton? Shall I take to boy to him?”
“Oh, dear, no. Lord Luxton is having a nap. He has little patience for children and needs his rest. Henry’s quite comfortable in your arms, don’t you think?”
The child shifted and made a soft sucking sound, which tore at Nate’s heart. He placed a gentle hand on the child’s back and carried him upstairs to a room that housed two single beds.
“Will this do, my lady?” Abigail asked. And Nate was impressed with her polite demeanor, again pleased that she’d taken his warning seriously.
“Put Henry on the bed,” Helen instructed Nate. “Gently, now. You don’t want to wake him.”
As Nate lay Henry on the bed, the child’s eyelids fluttered open briefly before closing again.
His beautiful, long, dark lashes were so like his mother’s that watching him took Nate back to the days when he used to gaze lovingly at Helen as she slept.
And the memory brought another wrenching twist to his heart.
*
“May I join you for a stroll in the garden?” Helen asked as they exited Henry’s room.
Nate’s voice caught in his throat. He’d spent two years building a wall between himself and Helen to keep her out of his thoughts and heart, and now it all appeared to be crumbling.
Despite everything—all the anger, pain, and humiliation she’d caused him—he still cared for her.
And more than that, he needed to find out if that little boy was his.
He wasn’t like Frederick. He could never leave a trail of children in his wake.
If he’d sired a child, then he wanted to be there for the boy—somehow. Still, he hesitated.
“What I told you earlier about Edward is the truth,” Helen said.
Nate stopped. He didn’t believe her. Edward was cold, but even he wouldn’t stoop that low.
“He threatened to cut you off without a penny if I married you. He said he had bigger plans for you. Plans that would enrich the family, and he didn’t need a merchant’s daughter interfering with them.”
Fury grabbed hold of Nate’s throat and choked him. She was lying. She had to be lying. He strode forward and marched down the stairs. He didn’t want to hear what she was saying.
Helen followed him, out the door to the garden.
When she caught up to him, she said, “Edward arranged my marriage. He knew Lord Luxton was looking for a wife and would settle for a woman without a dowry or title as long as she was young, fertile, and beautiful. He wanted an heir, and he thought he could sire one.”
“Did he?” Nate asked.
“I made sure that he thought as much.” She looked at him, her large dark eyes so lovely and familiar that he had to look away. “I was already with child. He knew no differently.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nate said, not turning to look at her.
“You know why. You would have insisted that we elope to Gretna Green, and then your brother would have spent the rest of our lives controlling us, forcing us to beg for his scraps.”
“My brother is too proud to let a member of his family live in poverty. He would have given me my fair share.”
“We would have had a house, yes, but he would have controlled where we lived and how much money we had. He would have dictated where Henry went to school and how he was to be raised.”
“But we would have been together!” Nate said through gritted teeth. “And I would have had my son!”
“You would have hated being controlled by Edward. We all would have been miserable, including Henry.”
“I’ll never forgive you for taking my son away from me.”
“Lord Luxton is in poor health, and he will leave Henry with a title and a large inheritance—enough money to free you of your brother forever. You can be a father to your son.”
She was right. He couldn’t change the past, but Henry was only a baby. He could be a father to him. He could have Helen back. But he no longer wanted her.
Yet, he could not have his child without her.
“Nate.” She reached for his arm. He pulled it away from her.
“I can’t talk about this now. It’s all too much—too soon. You talk of your husband as if you were a widow, but Lord Luxton is alive. He is your husband and Henry’s father.”
“I’m only asking you to spend some time with your son and to think of his future.”
He turned to her. “Is that all you’re asking?”
“For now, yes.”
“This feels like manipulation,” Nate said. “First, you try to seduce me, and when that doesn’t work, you send for Henry and use him to toy with my emotions. It’s all about control for you, isn’t it? It’s all just a game.”
Her face soured. “You always think the worst of me. Why can’t you believe I did what I thought was best for all three of us?”
Nate shook his head. He didn’t know what to think anymore.
“Is it the orphan?” she asked.
“What?”
“Miss De Lacey. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
Nate’s chest tightened. He didn’t know how he felt about Bridget, except that the thought of losing her made him physically ill. “I don’t owe you any explanations,” he said, turning to leave. He’d had enough of this conversation.
“I just want Henry to get to know you, and you to know him,” she said, and he stopped. “You’re right. You don’t owe me anything. But he deserves to get to know his father. If you want to be part of his life, I’ll not deny you. There need be nothing between us if that’s what you wish.”
Nate had no idea if she would ever be true to her word. Helen said and did whatever was needed to get what she wanted. But he’d also seen and loved the good in her, and this gesture warmed his heart to her. He turned to her and said, “Thank you.”
Then he walked off in the opposite direction, his mind reeling with all he’d just been told.