LITMIR.BIZ

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seemed so absorbed in her story.

      ‘And have him break it off? Risk the truth getting out? No man would marry me knowing that.’

      ‘I did.’

      ‘I trapped you,’ she flung back.

      ‘Perhaps,’ he said, puzzling her with the small, almost secret smile that touched his lips. ‘You certainly secured the two things you wanted: your daughter and a man in your bed.’

      ‘A man in my bed is a matter of no importance beside my daughter. I would have become a nun if I thought that would make Alice happy and secure,’ she protested.

      ‘That would be a waste,’ Avery said. Had she wounded him, asserting that a man—he—was of no importance? ‘It took you a long time to seek her out.’

      There was a question in the statement, one she could not bring herself to answer. How could she tell him her parents, whom she had loved and trusted, had plotted and lied, had planned to take her child and break her heart, all in the name of respectability? She loved them still, but she could not forgive them, or bring herself to speak of that betrayal, the way they must have put respectability and appearances beyond care for their own grandchild and before her own wishes.

      ‘The time was right,’ she said abruptly. ‘Avery, make love to me again.’

      It seemed he was rested enough. There was no opportunity then, nor until they fell asleep finally and deeply at dawn, for questions, truths or lies.

      * * *

      Avery could not remember ever feeling so physically satisfied before. His muscles felt as though they had been massaged, his whole body was relaxed and yet sensitive, tingling with remembered orgasmic pleasure, the anticipation of more to come a constant awareness.

      And yet, as another week passed in apparent harmony and the nights in mutual pleasure, he could not settle, could not be easy in his mind. He knew what was wrong, or, at least he could see the shape of the problem, looming like a nightmare beast in the corner of his vision. Lack of trust. Laura had lied to him and, he was certain, lied to him still. There was something she was hiding, something she was not telling him. He no longer believed that she feigned delight at his lovemaking, but he had been deceived by her too often to yield to the emotions that he feared would make him blind to more lies, more deceptions.

      He loved Laura and if she ever discovered that weakness she had the intelligence and the ruthlessness to exploit it unmercifully. His own mother had been quite conscienceless in manipulating his father, who could never bring himself to believe the woman he loved was the wanton his friends tried to warn him about. She had smiled and charmed and, occasionally, confessed to a fault with tears and ingenious excuses. The poor devil had believed her until he was confronted by undeniable proof.

      Avery had never believed the story of how the shotgun had gone off accidentally when his father was climbing a stile. He had gone to his Aunt Alice and she had simply accepted him into the family, treated him as an elder brother to Piers. His mother had shrugged, no doubt, and gone her own self-obsessed way. The accident that left her with a broken neck at the foot of her latest lover’s grand staircase had been hushed up. Avery, aged just seventeen, had wept for the last time in his life and faced the fact that his mother had killed any scrap of love he had ever had for her.

      Now, over breakfast, he watched his own wife and tried to force the lid closed on the feelings that left him vulnerable to hurt and disillusion, just as his father had been.

      Why had she left it so long to come for Alice and why, when she did, had she disguised herself and lied about her identity? Why had she not simply come to him, told him who she was, confessed her wish to become part of her daughter’s life? Why, when she knew he was seeking a wife, had she not suggested to him that they wed in order to provide Alice with a loving home?

      Her first deception had risked confusing and hurting the child. It had certainly confused him. He could accept that now and knew why he had been so angry when he had discovered who she really was. Her second piece of scheming could have wrecked his reputation.

      Was that it? Startled by the sudden thought, Avery lifted his newspaper to hide his face. The sheets rattled against his cup and he threw it down. Did she hate him so much that she would risk upsetting Alice, hazard her own, fragile reputation in order to punish him?

      He had taken her daughter, then she discovered he was instrumental in sending her lover to his death. Once he knew her identity he had forbidden her any contact with the child until the house party had thrown them all together. Had she manipulated her invitation to the house party, relying on his godmother’s cheerful love of entertaining to ensure her welcome?

      The enormity of it made him dizzy. Avery made himself breathe deeply until the charming, happy face of his wife came back into focus. She was coaxing Alice into eating some egg before the child attacked the jam and toast. The picture of perfect motherhood. The ideal wife who had every reason to hate him.

      He had never found the words to convince her of his deep regret for the misunderstanding over the letter to Piers. And Laura had never mentioned it again. Was that because she did not want to forgive him? Yet there was no way she could wound him, not now they were wed.

      ‘Papa?’ Alice’s clear voice cut through his churning thoughts.

      ‘Yes, sweetheart?’

      ‘Do you like my new hair ribbon?’

      ‘Yes, sweetheart.’ She could hurt him through Alice. If she took the child away...

      ‘I don’t seem to have seen Blackie for an age,’ he said.

      ‘No.’ Laura smiled at him. Clear-eyed, innocent. ‘I gave her a long holiday with her family. Now Miss Pemberton is with us I thought it was time she had a rest.’

      Miss Pemberton, his wife’s choice made without reference to him. His wife’s employee, loyal to her. Avery schooled his expression into bland approval. ‘Of course, my dear. She deserves her holiday.’

      * * *

      He waited until the next morning. It was Miss Pemberton’s half-day and Laura went out shopping, taking Alice with her. Avery waited for the front door to close behind them, then he climbed to the nursery floor and tapped on the door of the governess’s sitting room.

      She was sitting at the table, darning stockings, but she got to her feet when she saw who it was. ‘My lord. Please come in.’

      Avery left the door ajar in case she felt uneasy about being alone with a male employer. ‘Miss Pemberton, I hope you will excuse me interrupting you in your free time, I will not take much of it, I hope. Shall we sit?’

      She took the chair opposite his and folded her hands neatly on the table. A self-contained, intelligent young woman.

      ‘I do not interfere with my wife’s running of the household, you understand. And, naturally, your appointment is within her sphere of influence.’ She looked a trifle puzzled, but she nodded. ‘However, Alice is my daughter. She is my wife’s stepdaughter.’ The governess nodded again and sat a little straighter in the chair. ‘Naturally she is very fond of Alice, but she is not her guardian, not her mother.’ His tongue almost tripped him on the lie.

      ‘Yes, Lord Wykeham. I am aware of that.’ Miss Pemberton was cool.

      ‘I am sure you are. I wanted to make it clear that my daughter does not leave the house without my knowledge and consent. She most certainly does not go on carriage journeys without it. Do you understand?’

      ‘Your instructions are very clear, my lord, although I confess I do not understand.’

      ‘Lady Wykeham is prone to occasional flights of fancy that usually manifest themselves as erratic journeys. It would be unsettling for Alice.’

      ‘I see.’ She looked very perturbed. ‘I can assure you, my lord, that if there is any suggestion of such a thing I will inform you at once.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Avery stood up. ‘I can rely

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