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