Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“Who are you?”
Andrew stared at the woman before him, who clutched the baby even more tightly against her chest, as though she alone were defending it against a pack of ravenous wolves.
Her mahogany hair tumbled loose down her back in messy curls, and her eyes were an odd shade of brown, almost orange. Like amber.
“Andrew Kinley. Duke of Knightford,” he said, the new title sounding sour in his mouth.
This was one of the first times he had had occasion to use it. He had only been in possession of the title a few days, and he cared little for its associations.
“You?” the woman demanded, and stepped back. “But the Duke of Knightford is…”
She glanced from him to the babe as though trying to piece everything together.
“The former Duke of Knightford died, Jessie,” the Duchess of Setton said quietly.
“I am his successor. Thus, I am now assuming the responsibilities of my title, and they include my second cousin. I have come to collect him. The real question is, who are you?”
She drew herself up, holding the baby still tighter, rocking him slightly in an absent movement that suggested she had spent a great deal of her time doing just that. “My name is Jessamine Farbridge.”
“Farbridge,” he repeated, the name familiar, and its connotations unpleasant. “Daughter of Lord Debley?”
She pressed her lips together. “What if I am? I knew Rebecca, and she named me godmother. I made a promise to take care of him, and I will not break that promise. You cannot simply walk in here and take him.”
Andrew tapped his fingers against his arm.
Daughter of the Earl of Debley. Unfortunate connection, but in terms of temperament, they seemed nothing alike, and he could hardly judge her for the sins of her father.
He could judge her for her own sins, however, and shortsightedness was most certainly one of them.
The lady had thought none of this through.
It was all very well that an unmarried lady could claim the rights to a babe not her own, but how was she going to house and finance the lad?
He would grow, require more than a pair of arms in which to sleep and a breast from which to feed.
“You are, of course, welcome to remain William’s godmother,” Andrew said. “But I am his uncle and rightful guardian, and I am perfectly within my rights to take him away.”
Her shoulders tensed, and her chin raised. “You can’t have him.”
“William belongs with me,” Andrew said icily. “I have not come here to negotiate, Lady Jessamine.”
“What do you know about raising an infant, Your Grace? He has no mother. He deserves someone who will love him.”
The words struck Andrew between the ribs, though he had no intention of letting her see the damage.
Yes, he knew perfectly well that Rebecca was dead; in every respect, he had failed her.
He had failed to oppose the marriage to Cartwell when his father insisted on it, and he had not been there to bargain with Death himself to insist she live.
The least he could do—the only thing he could do—was provide for Rebecca’s son, the way she would have done if she were alive.
“You may have your opinions about my suitability as a guardian,” he said, unable to keep the bite of anger from his voice, “but they will not stand up in a court of law. I will not allow my second cousin to grow up hidden away like this.”
The Duke of Setton stepped forward. “Such secrecy was necessary, Your Grace.”
“Perhaps it was before I arrived, but I am here now, and the secrecy is no longer necessary. Taking him in as my ward is perfectly proper, and frankly I am astonished you did not immediately summon me for that.” He returned his glare to Lady Jessamine, who did not quail underneath it.
Interesting. “I will be taking William home with me now.”
Lady Jessamine looked wildly at the Duchess of Setton. “How did he find me?”
“Given you neglected to inform me of your whereabouts, I had to do a little investigation.” Now he made no attempt to hide the anger in his voice.
“I learned Rebecca had died at a property Lady Marwich owned. After speaking with her, I learned of Lady Jessamine, and the Duke and Duchess of Setton brought me here.”
Lady Jessamine stared at the duchess as though the other lady had betrayed her. “How could you, Irene?” she whispered.
“He has a right to know, Jessie. He is the boy’s uncle, and we cannot keep you here indefinitely. We all agreed this was to be a temporary solution until something more permanent can be found.”
“Knightford is his family too,” Setton said gently.
“If that is true,” Lady Jessamine said, swinging back to him with accusation in her eyes, “then why was he not there to help Rebecca when she needed it the most? Why did he only show up now?”
Andrew ignored the stab of guilt, familiar as it was.
He would not allow her to see any of the emotions that roiled underneath.
As far as the world was concerned, he was stone-faced and stone-hearted; that had been the only way to survive his father, and it was the only way he would survive this now.
“I have been in the army,” he explained coldly. “And not allowed to leave my post until news of my father and brother’s deaths released me from my obligations.”
And provided him with an assortment of new ones, but at least it meant he could do his best for Rebecca’s child, even if he was too late to do anything for Rebecca herself.
The failure stung once more. Eternally.
“William will be raised by my side, and he will be educated, protected, and provided for,” he continued.
“You have my word that he will want for nothing. And, moreover, I intend to legitimize him and make him my heir. With me, William will have a title, a future, and every opportunity the world can provide. What can you offer him as your ward, Lady Jessamine?”
Lady Jessamine raised her chin defiantly. “He is my half-brother, Your Grace.”
“I know of that connection, and I know the baby’s father,” he revealed.
Rebecca had written to him to make him aware.
On the one hand, fortunately, her husband had died before her pregnancy had shown, otherwise, he might have had something to say about the impossibility of the child being his.
On the other hand, Rebecca fell pregnant a year after her late husband’s death, and she hadn’t married anyone.
Which made William a child out of wedlock.
But Andrew had an extensive family, and he could easily find a married cousin, close enough in blood, who had died and left the child in Andrew’s care. Close enough to make William his closest male relative, and future heir.
“A man may appreciate those things you have to offer,” Lady Jessamine said, “but he is my kin just as much as yours, and I can provide for a baby. He knows nothing of your generosity now, but he knows my arms. I’m as much of a mother to him as Rebecca.”
“You are being ridiculous. A nursemaid can do what you can.”
“A nursemaid will never love him the way I do.” She glared at Andrew defiantly. “And you will not take him from me, Your Grace. You will not.”
As though responding to the anger in her voice, William began to cry. Lady Jessamine immediately hushed him, rocking him gently in her arms and singing under her breath, the lullabies familiar and nostalgic.
In a matter of moments, William settled and went back to sleep.
Second cousin.
This made Andrew halt.
Rebecca had never had the family she deserved. How could he deny her son someone who truly loved him?
Perhaps he did indeed pretend to be stone-hearted, but when it came to his family, to those whom he loved…
He would do anything for them.
Anything including…
The idea was ridiculous. Foolish. But once it had taken root in his mind, he found it impossible to remove.
A nursemaid might feed and care for the boy until he reached the age for a governess. But no one had cared for Rebecca, and Andrew did not intend to leave her child to the mercies of hired help. The boy needed someone bound to the family, someone who would not leave him for a better opportunity.
And Andrew would need someone to care for William and provide him with the gentleness and love that Andrew would not be able to provide completely. He was not entirely certain he could provide it at all.
Here and now, he could kill two birds with the one metaphorical stone.
She was the daughter of an earl. A disreputable earl on trial for murder, admittedly, but she was still gently bred.
“Very well,” he said, looking directly at her. “You may keep the boy.” A line appeared between her brows in confusion, but she said nothing, merely staring at him. “Because,” he continued, “I shall take you both.”
Jessamine’s mouth opened. “You will… what?”
“Marry me, Lady Jessamine. Then you may go wherever William does.”