The Fall of a Saint Read online

  ‘It is more than that,’ the duke said, distracted again and pacing the rug before the fire. ‘Six months ago. I took ill. The mumps. Had I been a child, it would have been nothing....’

  ‘I am well aware of that, having helped several of my charges through it,’ she snapped. ‘But what would that have to do with our business?’

  He continued, unaffected by her temper. ‘As a result of the illness, I had reason to doubt that I would be able to produce issue.’

  Now he was denying what had happened between them or questioning his part in the child he had given her. It was too much to bear. She used the last of her strength to draw herself up out of the velvet cushions to the unimpressive five foot four inches that she carried and stepped before him to stop his perambulation. Facing this man and being forced to look up into his face made her feel small, unimportant, weak. But she dare not appear that way, even for a moment. ‘Do you doubt the truth of my accusations?’

  He held up a hand. ‘Not at all. I was surprised, of course. I spent the four months between recovery and our meeting in desperate and shameful attempts to prove to my own potency. It was on one such trip that I found you while looking for a barmaid who was to meet me in a room just above yours.’

  So he was a drunken reprobate, willing to lie with any woman to prove his manhood. It did not surprise her in the least. She folded her arms and waited.

  ‘I do not claim to be proud of it,’ he said, unperturbed by her disapproval. ‘I merely wish you to know the truth. In six months, no other woman has come to me with the demands you are setting. I would have welcomed her, if she had. By the time I found you, I was quite beyond hope of that. I feared for the succession. Suppose I could not father a son? What would become of the title? The dukedom might return to the crown. What would become of my land and the people on it? They depend on me for their safety and livelihood. And if I could not do this one, simple thing...’ He shrugged. ‘I am the last legitimate member of my family, you see.’

  She narrowed her eyes at the distinction. In her opinion, some people were too proud of their own conception, as if anyone had a choice in that matter.

  ‘It is no excuse for what happened,’ she said.

  ‘I did not say it was. I merely wish to explain. That night, I’d expected to find a woman used to the risks of such casual encounters. But you are a governess, are you not?’

  ‘I was,’ she corrected. ‘That is quite impossible now.’

  ‘I understand that,’ he said again. The sympathy in his voice sounded almost sincere. ‘I do not mean to send you away with a few coins and a promise to take the child, as if you were some whore claiming to carry my bastard.’ He took a step nearer to her and, unable to help herself, she backed away from him. Her legs hit the cushion behind her and she sat again.

  Suddenly, he dropped to one knee at her feet. If it was an attempt to equalise their heights and put her at ease, it was not working. He was still too close. And though she had wished to bring the great man to his knees, it had been but a metaphor. The sight of a peer in the flesh and kneeling before her was ridiculous.

  ‘You deserve better than that,’ he said seriously. They were the words of a lover and her heart gave an irrational flutter. ‘I meant to give you more and would have done had you but stayed in the inn until morning. I would have seen to it that no more harm came to you.’ His voice was soft, stroking her jangling nerves. ‘I never would have left you in a position where you might have to come to me and demand justice. But you ran before we could talk.’

  She fought to free herself of the romantic haze he was creating. Did he expect her to take some of the blame for this situation? She would not. How could she explain the feelings of that night? She hardly understood them herself. Anger, fear, guilt and, dare she admit it, shame? Lying with another man was a betrayal of what she had shared with her darling Richard. That had been done in love. And she would never regret it.

  But Richard was long gone, lost in the war. In his honour, she had meant to keep the memory of that time pure. Now she could not manage to think of it without remembering St Aldric. ‘I could not stand to be under the same roof with you a moment longer than was necessary.’

  I ran. It had been foolish of her. But what reason had she to believe he would have treated her better than he had that night?

  Of course, the man before her now did not seem as imposing as she had expected. He might actually want to help her. He was no less guilty, of course. But there was a worried line in his brow that had not been there when she had arrived. ‘I understand why you did not want further dealings with me in Dover. I had given you reason to doubt me. But now I wish to make amends. You deserve more help than you received. So does the child you carry. I will not deny you, or him.’ He was smiling at her. Had she not known better, she would have smiled back.

  He continued. ‘And to be the acknowledged bastard of a duke would open many doors. But...’

  There was the hesitation again, proof that she was right not to trust him. She braced herself for whatever might come after.

  ‘But would it not be better to be my heir?’

  She could not help the single, unladylike bark of laughter at the idea. Then she composed herself again and gave him a sarcastic smile, pretending to ponder. ‘Would it be better to be a duke than a bastard son? Next you will be asking me if it is better to be a duchess than a governess.’

  The room fell silent. Mrs Hastings stood and went to join her husband. The pair of them looked uncomfortable.

  Now the duke was smiling in relief. ‘That is precisely what I am asking.’

  There was another long, awkward pause as she digested the words, repeating the conversation in her head and trying to find the point where it slipped from reality into fantasy.

  ‘You cannot mean it,’ she said at last. He was toying with her, waiting until the last of her courage failed, and then...the Lord knew what would happen. She would leave him this instant, running as she had before.

  But her body understood what her mind could not and it refused to obey her. She tried to stand, but her legs could not seem to work properly. She made it partway to her feet, then sank back into the cushions of the couch.

  St Aldric was unmoved from the place where he knelt before her. He waited until her weak struggle to escape had ended. Then he resumed. ‘There would be many advantages, would there not? You would not need to fear disgrace or discomfort.’ He was as handsome as Lucifer when he smiled, blue eyed and wonderful. His voice was low, almost seductive in its offer to remove all care. For a moment, she remembered how it had felt when he was on top of her, when it had still been a pleasant dream.

  Before she’d known that what was happening was nothing more than lust.

  ‘I would fear you,’ she said bluntly and saw him flinch in response. The reaction, though very small, gave her a feeling of power and she smiled.

  He continued, unsmiling and earnest. ‘I swear I will give you no further reason to fear. Our son would have the best of everything: education, status and, in time, my seat in Parliament and all the holdings attached to it.’

  ‘At this time, there is barely a child of any kind, much less a son,’ she said. Duke or no, the man was clearly deluded. ‘I am just as likely to produce a daughter.’ In fact, she would pray for a girl, out of spite.

  He shook his head. ‘It was unlikely that you would have any child at all from me. I am sure this one must be a sign. It will be as it was for my father and his father before that, back very nearly to the first duke. In my family, the first child is always a male. If I have sired a child, it will be a son. And he will learn from me, as I learned, to cherish his holdings and be a better man than his father.’

  That, at least, she could agree on. ‘And to take care not to lose his way when frequenting inns,’ she said.

  The doctor and his wife both flinc
hed at this, but St Aldric merely nodded. ‘The next duke will be noble in title and character. He is far too precious to slight, even during the first months of his gestation. I want no question, no stain, no rumour about him, or his mother.’

  He had added her, her disgrace and her reputation, almost as an afterthought to his mad plan. ‘Am I to have no say in his future or my own?’ She heard the Hastingses shifting nervously, clearly in sympathy with her, but she could not manage to look away from those very blue eyes.

  The duke thought for a moment. ‘You can refuse me, I suppose. But I will only ask again.’ He reached out for her hand and she snatched it from his grasp. ‘I need the child you carry.’

  ‘Then take it and raise it after it is born,’ she said firmly, sliding down the couch and looking away to break the hold he had on her. ‘Give this child the advantages of your wealth and rank. But I will not be part of the bargain. I did not wish for this. I did not seek you out in that inn. It was you who came to me.’ She could see by the shadowed look in his eyes that the truth of that still troubled him, and she took a dark, unholy pleasure in reminding him of it.

  She looked up and saw the disapproving looks of both Doctor and Mrs Hastings, but their censure was not directed at her. If she refused the duke, his friends would side with her, just as they had promised. They had made the offer of help because they had tried and failed to dissuade him.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘The child is yours and I will not keep you from it. But you do not own me.’ This time, it would be he who was alone to face an uncertain future.

  ‘A son without a wife is no use to me,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘I do not need a natural child to be held apart from his birthright, as my father did to my brother.’ He cast a glance in the direction of Dr Hastings, and Maddie noticed the resemblance between them that should have been obvious to her before.

  The duke looked back to her. ‘I need an heir. And I cannot marry another in good conscience after what I have done to you.’ He reached out a hand to her again. ‘Miss Cranston, you are not some common barmaid or London lightskirt. You were raised as a lady and are carrying my child. How could I offer less than marriage and still think myself a gentleman, much less St Aldric?’

  He said it as if St Aldric were some superior being far above common manners and not simply the title he had been born with. She’d seen nothing saintly about him when they met. But suppose it had been a mistake? Perhaps he meant to do right by her after all. She felt a moment of relief, then counted it as weakness and batted the hand away. She must never forget who it was that offered and how long it had taken for him to find such remorse. This was not the time to be swayed by blue eyes and soft touches.

  His hand dropped to his side, then rose again in supplication. ‘I would ask nothing more from you than I have already taken. There would not be any intimacy between us. Once the child is born, you could leave if you wished. I would not stop you. I would not seek you out or force you to return to me.’ He was still smiling. But there was a tightness in his face that made her think he would almost prefer it this way, so that he need never be reminded of how they had met. ‘Let me give you the reparation I should have when we were still in Dover. I’d have married you then, had you but remained. Only when your honour is restored to you can this matter be settled.’

  Since she had not stayed to talk with him, there was no telling if his words were true, or only a convenient afterthought that supported his current offer. But if he told the truth now, a single affirmative and she would be rich beyond care and she need do nothing more than she had already done. Her child would be safe and she would regain her reputation.

  It was more than she had hoped for. And the offer was based on his assumptions that she had virtue to save other than the tissue of lies that her innocence had been, when he’d come to her. But she did not owe him details of something that had happened long before they’d met.

  He noticed her hesitation and renewed his offer. ‘I know I have no right to ask for it, but in exchange for your help, I would give you everything. Money. Jewels. Gowns. My name and title, and all the freedom that comes with it. If you wish it, it shall be yours.’ His head dipped slightly, like a knight waiting to receive his lady’s favour.

  When she had set out for London, had she not wanted to see him humbled? In one day, she had achieved her goal. But her victory had come too easy. The duke might appear to be a penitent, but he was still one of the most powerful men in England.

  His modesty was an illusion, meant to put her at ease and win her cooperation. In a moment of carelessness, he had changed the course of her life. Now he thought that, in casually changing it again, he was doing her a service. But her true past would be lost to her: her job, her honour...and her Richard. This duke, handsome and kind as he might seem now, had ruined everything.

  And no matter what she chose, his precious reputation remained untarnished. As he reminded her, even if he deserved punishment for his swinish behaviour, he was the legitimate son of a duke. The law could not touch him. Beside his power, the wishes of a governess who had been born on the wrong side of the blanket were as nothing.

  But at least if she married him, he would not escape the past. She could be a continual reminder of his mistake. It was an appealing idea. And now he was offering her everything.

  It was almost enough.

  But suppose he found reason to change his mind? ‘And what will happen if the child is not a boy?’ she asked.

  ‘It must be,’ he muttered. ‘Daughters in my family are few and far between. Why should it be different for me?’

  Perhaps because he did not deserve such luck. He had done nothing to earn it. ‘Enough of your problems and what you need,’ she said. ‘What if I bear you a daughter? Will you force your way into my room, as you did the last time?’

  He flinched as if she had raised a whip to him and taken a strip of flesh from his back. Was it the reminder of their meeting? Or the possibility that she might carry a girl? Was the female sex completely valueless to him? His past actions certainly made it appear so.

  He composed himself and raised his head to look at her. Then he continued. ‘If you bear me a daughter, my promise would stand. All I ask is that you marry me. I can expect no more of you beyond that. In the event that the child is a girl—’ he paused as though offering a prayer that it would not be ‘—I will explain all to the Regent and beg that he allows the title to pass through my daughter to her son. But I will not demand an act from you that you must certainly find abhorrent.’ He was staring deep into her soul, willing her to give in.

  If trust of strangers had come easy to her, she would have trusted this one. With eyes like that, so clear and blue, was it even possible to lie? And with the trust came the niggling desire to forgive him, to sympathise with him and to forget that she was the one who had been wronged. She could marry him and see that beautiful face each day for the rest of her life, those eyes gazing at her as though he cared.

  Was she really so weak as that? He did not care. It was an illusion. ‘You are banking on a male heir from a daughter who is not even born? That event, at a minimum, might be some twenty years hence. What guarantee do you have that you would be alive to see it? Or that the Regent will agree to any of this?’

  ‘I will live,’ he said. ‘I will live because I must. I will have a son, or a grandson. I will not pass until I see the line established and know that there will be another St Aldric to take up the responsibilities of the holdings and the people who depend upon him.’ With shoulders squared and jaw set in a way that displayed his noble profile, he stared past her as though looking into the future.

  Was the title really so important to him? A man with such an extreme sense of his own importance might do anything to see success, even if it required him to destroy those around him.

  It was a danger for her. But in him, it would be a weakness th
at might be exploited. ‘You would not touch me,’ she said cautiously, still searching for the trap in the words. ‘And in exchange, you would give me...everything.’

  ‘Anything you desire,’ he said. He was holding his breath, waiting for her answer.

  His friends looked alarmed. Perhaps they could see further than he did and realise the power he was giving her over his life. But Dr Hastings stepped forward and spoke. ‘I can speak for my wife in this, I am certain. What he says is the truth, for though he might be guilty of other things, I have never known St Aldric to lie. If you feel, now or in the future, that he cannot hold to this bargain, we will take you in and I myself will call him out and defend your honour.’

  The man was trying to make amends. And he was right in that it would be easier for the child, and for her as well, if they married.

  But then she thought of Richard. She had loved, once in her life. It was a week that must last for ever, now that he was gone. She had long ago reconciled herself to the fact that there would be no children, no husband, no love for another until she found him again.

  Was she willing to give herself, if not in body, then at least in law, to another man for the sake of convenience? It would render the past meaningless.

  And here was the man who had put her plans for ever out of reach. She had not thought herself particularly spiteful. At least, not until she’d met St Aldric. Now he was giving her unlimited wealth and the power to set friend against friend. For a change, she held all the cards, to play or discard at leisure. Revenge was hers if she wished to take it.

  But did she wish it?

  The duke’s hand still hovered before her and she reached out to clasp it. Had she expected the smell of brimstone when she touched him? A burn? A chill? This was nothing more than flesh and bone. He might be as handsome as Lucifer, but he was a mere mortal. And perhaps he was a fool.

  His palm was warm and dry. As he rose and helped her to her feet, his strength made her feel safer than she’d felt since... She stopped the thought incomplete, for this man had nothing in common with Richard. She must never forget that, though the Duke of St Aldric might seem like a gallant rescuer, he was the cause of her current problems, not the solution. She forced a smile, imagining that she was strong enough to be his equal and not just a governess who had run out of options. ‘Very well, then. I will marry you.’