The Fall of a Saint

‘To the best of my knowledge, yes,’ Evelyn answered.

Michael took care to school his face to neutrality. It was wrong of him to be excited at the thought. Even worse, he was glad of it. To have a child.... Better yet, to have a son....

When he was gone, there would be a new St Aldric to care for the people and the land. And this boy would be raised differently from the way he had been. It was as if, despite his reprehensible behaviour, a curse had been lifted from his house.

‘I said, what do you mean to do about it?’ Apparently, in his distraction he had been ignoring his sister-in-law.

So he explained his plan.

Chapter Two

The muffled conversation in the hall droned on. Though she knew they were talking about her, Maddie felt oddly detached from the situation. In the time before Dover, she had avoided behaviours that might incite gossip. Her expectations were modest and her future predictable. She would teach the children of strangers until they grew too old to need her. Then she would find another family in want of a governess. At the end of it, she would have a small amount of savings to retire on, or stay on in a household so fond of dear, old Miss Cranston that they kept her beyond her usefulness.

But that seemed a lifetime ago. No decent family would have her after the scandal. It had been foolish of her to suggest that particular inn, but when her new employer had suggested meeting her stage in Dover, the temptation had been too great. She’d returned to the place several times as years had passed, knowing that, in her dreams at least, she would be young and free of the responsibilities of her oh, so ordinary life. She had gone to bed thinking of nothing but Richard and their last night together in the very same room.

The man who had come to her this time was no dream lover. It had begun sweetly enough, but it had ended in a waking nightmare. The drunken stranger had been hauled from her bed, while Mr Barker stood, framed in the doorway, shouting that no such woman should be in a decent inn, much less allowed near innocent children. The argument had moved into the hallway and she had slammed the door, thrown on her clothes and run as soon as she was sure of her safety. But not before hearing the name of her attacker, as he demanded, in a slurred voice, that this other common fellow stop raising a fuss over strapping a barmaid.

After two months of unemployment, she’d run through most of her tiny savings. Then there had come the growing realisation that she would share her future with another: one too small and helpless to understand the predicament they were in. So she had taken the last of the money and bought a ticket for London.

Now she was visiting the house of a peer. She glanced around her. While the decoration was as elegant as she might have expected, her presence here was beyond the limits of her imagination. Even in the parlours of the families that had employed her, she had not dared to relax. There were always children to watch and to remove to the nursery when their behaviour grew tedious.

The same strangers were once again settling her fate in a public hallway, while she drank tea. Now that she had heard the truth, there was no sign that this Mrs Hastings would be easily silenced. There was a sharp sound of exclamation from her, as though one of the men had said something particularly shocking. Their muttered explanations sounded weak in comparison.

When a settlement was offered, Evelyn Hastings might serve as a mediator. She would know that decent people did not raise a child in secret and on a few pounds a year. A bastard of a duke deserved a decent education and a chance for advancement.

Maddie thought of her own childhood. The family that had taken her in had not let her forget that her origins were clouded. And the proper schools where she was boarded made no secret that she was there at the behest of an unnamed benefactor. There had been raised eyebrows, of course, but the money provided had been sufficient to silence speculation and the education had been respectable enough to set her on the path towards a career.

Surely St Aldric could do better than that for his by-blow. There could be excellent schools, and a Season and a proper marriage for a daughter, or business connections and a respectable trade for a son. If the duke claimed his offspring, it would not be without family. One parent was better than none. Once she was sure the child’s future was secure, she might quietly disappear, change her name and begin her life anew. No one need ever know of this unfortunate incident. She might be spared the snubs and gossip of decent women and the offers of supposed gentlemen convinced that, if she had fallen once, she might give herself again to any who asked.

It was for the best, she reminded herself, fighting down the pangs of guilt. The world would forgive St Aldric, and by association the child, but such charity would not extend to her. The door opened and Doctor and Mrs Hastings entered, followed by the duke, who shut it behind them.

Dear lord, but he was handsome. Maddie did her best to smother what should have been a perfectly natural response to the presence of him, for what woman, when confronted with a man like St Aldric, did not feel the pull of his charms? Apparently, God had decided it was not enough to give such wealth and power to a single human. He had made a masterpiece. St Aldric was tall but not thin, and muscular without seeming stocky. The hose and breeches that he wore all but caressed muscles hardened by riding and sport. Blue was too common a word to describe the eyes that stared past her. Turquoise, aquamarine, cerulean... She could search a paintbox for ever and still not find a colour to do them justice. The blonde hair above his noble brow caught the last of the afternoon sun and the hand that would brush the waves of it from his eyes was long fingered and graceful. But the clean-shaven jaw was not the least bit feminine. The cleft chin was resolute without appearing stubborn. And his mouth...

She remembered his mouth. And his arms bare of his coat, the fine linen of his shirt brushing her skin as they folded around her. And his body...

Her stomach gave another nervous jump. She remembered things that no decent woman should. And what she did remember should have not pleasure for her. That night had been her undoing.

Mrs Hastings saw her start and came quickly to her side, sharing the sofa and taking her hand. She was glaring at her husband, and at the duke as well, utterly fearless of retribution. ‘Well, Sam, what do you have to say for yourself?’

A dark look passed between the couple, as though to prove an argument still in progress. But the doctor turned to her with the same sympathetic look he had given her in the inn as he’d led his friend away. ‘Miss Cranston, we both owe you more apologies than can be offered in this lifetime. And once again, let me assure you that you are in no danger.’

But Maddie noticed the blocked door and lack of other exits. And the nearness of the fireplace poker, should Mrs Hastings prove unable to help her.

The duke saw her glance to it and made a careful, calming gesture with his hands. ‘Miss Cranston,’ he said, searching for words, ‘you have nothing to fear.’

‘Nothing more,’ she reminded him.

‘Nothing more,’ he agreed. ‘The night we met—’ he began.

She stopped him. ‘You mean, the night you entered my room uninvited, and—’

‘I was very drunk,’ he interrupted, as though afraid of what she might say in front of his friends. ‘Too drunk to find my own room, much less that of another. I swear, I thought you were someone else.’

And her own arms had betrayed her, reaching out to him, even though an innocent governess could not have been expecting a lover.

‘You called me Polly,’ she said, almost as angry at herself as she was at him.

‘I had an assignation. With the barmaid. And I was drunk,’ he repeated. ‘I had been drunk for several months at that point. What was one more day?’ For a moment, he sounded almost as bitter as she felt, shaking his head in disgust at his own behaviour. ‘And in that time, I did some terrible things. But I have never forced myself on a woman.’

‘Other than me?’ she reminded him. It was unfair of her. There had been no force.

But he must have seen it as such and counted her an innocent, for he looked truly pained by the memory. ‘When I realised my mistake, it was too late. The damage had been done.’ He took a deep breath. ‘The night in question was an unfortunate aberration.’

‘Very unfortunate,’ she agreed, giving no quarter. But why should she? It was a lame excuse.

‘Never before that,’ he said. ‘And never again. Since that day, I have moderated my behaviour. That night taught me the depths that one might fall to, the harm that one might do, when one is sunk in self-pity and concerned with nothing more than personal pleasure.’ He was looking at her with the earnest expression she sometimes saw on boys in the nursery, swearing that they would not repeat misdeeds that occurred as regularly as a chiming clock.

She returned the same governess glare she might have used on them. ‘That night taught me not to trust a door lock in a busy inn.’ She needn’t have bothered with the poker. The words and tone were enough to cow him.

‘If there was a way, I would erase it so that you had never met me. But now I will make sure it stays in the past. Your reputation will be restored. You will never feel lack. Never suffer doubt. Everything you need shall be yours.’

Success! He was offering even more than she wanted. She would have a new life and another chance. ‘For the child, as well?’ she asked. For this could not all be about her alone.

‘Of course.’ He was smiling at her, as though there could be no possibility.

‘We are in agreement, then? There will be a settlement?’ She gave a grateful smile to Mrs Hastings, who had done miracles in just a brief conversation.

‘The child will want for nothing. Neither will you. You need not concern yourself with a twenty-pound-a-year position in someone else’s household. You shall be the one to hire a governess. You shall have a house, as well. Or houses, if you wish.’ She did not need houses. He was becoming too agitated over a thing that could be settled simply. Perhaps there was madness in his family, as well as drunkenness.

Doctor Hastings saw her expression and responded in a more calming tone, ‘You will be taken care of. As will the child. If the suggestions offered here tonight are not to your liking, you will have our help in refusing them.’

Evelyn Hastings nodded in agreement and squeezed her hands.

‘Enough!’ St Aldric cut through the apology with a firmness that seemed to stun both doctor and wife.

It did not shock Maddie. What could be more shocking than what had already occurred between them? The man was an admitted wastrel. It would not surprise her if he changed his mind suddenly and refused to pay, though it was quite obvious he had the funds. She raised her chin and stared at the duke, willing herself to be brave enough to see this through. Her mute accusation would be enough to break any resistance he might feel to help his own blood.

His blue eyes sparkled as he spoke, but not from madness; the light in them was as strong as blue steel. ‘There will be no question of my acknowledging my offspring, Miss Cranston. There has been too much secrecy in my family thus far and it has caused no end of trouble. You have my word. The child you carry is mine and will have all the advantages I can offer him.’

‘Thank you.’ She had succeeded after all. Could it really be this easy?

‘But...’ he added.

Apparently not. What conditions would he manage to put on what should be simple?

‘There is a complication,’ he said.

Not as far as she was concerned. ‘I will not speak of the beginning, to the child or anyone else,’ she said, ‘as long as you admit to its existence.’

‘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 flinched 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.