Wedded for His Secret Child Read online

  ‘Well, well,’ he said softly, ‘what have we here?’ He continued to scrutinise Violet, in no hurry, it would seem, to hand her back to her mother.

  Melissa began to feel uncomfortable. ‘I—I’ll take her. I must be getting back.’

  ‘Back? Where is back?’

  ‘Home—to High Meadows. Baron Charles Frobisher is my father.’

  ‘Is he indeed.’ Raising his head, he looked at Melissa. The still, bright silver of his eyes was enigmatic, revealing nothing of his feelings. ‘Violet is my daughter. She has the mark. There can be no dispute over it.’

  With two identical faces looking at her it was a statement of fact Melissa could not deny. Even their expressions, audacious and compelling, were the same and with a tilt of humour at the corners of their lips.

  ‘She—she is my daughter,’ he reiterated. ‘It takes two to make a child. We—you and I—made this one.’

  ‘Yes,’ Melissa whispered, wanting to snatch Violet from his arms and ride for home. She could see he was finding it hard to comprehend that this was happening. Not only had he made love to a sexually innocent girl from a respectable family, but he had impregnated her.

  ‘Violet,’ he said, speaking softly. ‘It’s a pretty name.’

  ‘I think so,’ Melissa murmured, swallowing down the hard, emotional lump that had appeared in her throat. ‘When she was born her eyes were blue which quickly turned to violet. I thought they would remain so, but as you see they are no longer violet.’

  ‘Has she been baptised?’

  ‘No—not with her being illegitimate.’

  ‘Then she will be. Every child should be baptised.’

  Melissa looked at him steadily. ‘What is it to you? You do not know her.’

  ‘Through no fault of my own. It is something I intend to rectify. I am responsible for her existence. I want to help.’

  ‘Violet is my daughter. That means that I make the decisions concerning her.’

  Laurence looked at Melissa as if he was about to explode. ‘We’ll see about that. You cannot bring a child up on your own.’

  ‘I have my parents to help me.’

  ‘They won’t always be there. You and I—what we did, Violet is the innocent result,’ he said, handing Violet back to her.

  Melissa felt a sudden surge of anger when she recalled how disappointed she had felt when he had left her in the Spring Gardens. How stupid and naive she had been. Despite the feelings he had stirred in her she was ashamed that she had been such a willing participant. Her sexual innocence and lack of knowledge regarding the male species had led to her undoing. But perhaps this was nothing out of the ordinary and he was used to making love to ladies whenever the fancy took him. After all, she thought bitterly, how would she know? She regarded him coldly, her face showing no trace of emotion. With pride and self-respect she held her head high.

  ‘That night in the Spring Gardens dealt me a cruel blow, but I was determined not to be the victim of circumstance. Despite what you must have thought at the time, I did not have your experience. Apart from yourself, no other man has touched me—either before or since,’ she told him with simple honesty, giving him further insight into just how truly innocent she was.

  ‘Thank you for telling me. Now I know Violet, have seen her, I cannot walk away from her.’

  Melissa could think of no immediate reply. Panic rose into her throat, her heart beating so loudly that she felt it must be audible. How far was he prepared to take his responsibility? What would he do? Take Violet away from her? It was a situation she could not allow. She could not endure any more humiliation. With an urgent need to escape she took a step back, but then she stood, transfixed by the power in his eyes that held hers.

  ‘There is no need to fear me, Melissa.’

  ‘I don’t,’ she replied. But she did. She feared even more what he would do. ‘And me?’ she asked the question quietly.

  Laurence looked at her directly and the impact of his gaze was potent. He took a step closer, his powerful, animalistic masculinity immediately assaulting her senses. Melting inwardly, she felt her traitorous body offer itself to this man—in that moment they both acknowledged the forbidden flame that sparked between them. He raised one well-defined eyebrow, watching her. He seemed to know exactly what was going on in her mind.

  ‘As to that we shall have to see. Does the idea of me being involved in Violet’s life strike you as distasteful? It is customary for the father of a child to be a part of its life.’

  Melissa almost retreated from those suddenly fierce eyes, but she steeled herself and held her ground. ‘I do not find the idea of you in any way distasteful and as much as you want to be a part of Violet’s life you must understand that ever since I realised I was with child the decisions that have been taken where she is concerned have been mine and mine alone. I cannot help it if I find the idea of sharing the responsibility with someone else—difficult.’

  He looked at her hard, then nodded and cupped her chin in his hand. ‘I do understand—more than you realise. I can see that you have not had an easy time of it. But our daughter is a beautiful child, a credit to you, and I thank you for what you have done for her in my absence. Believe me when I tell you that had I known of her existence I would have come to you before now.’ Dropping his hand, he drew her horse forward. ‘You live nearby, I take it?’

  His touch had been like a caress. She had felt a frisson of warmth glow inside her and she hadn’t wanted him to pull it away. She had embraced it. ‘Yes, about a mile away.’

  ‘Then I will ride there with you. No doubt you have had some difficult questions to answer. How did your parents react when they found out you were to bear an illegitimate child?’

  ‘My mother with anger—which was understandable. She was mostly concerned with what others would think. She didn’t want friends and neighbours to ridicule my situation. My father was upset. My mother wanted me to go away, to have the child and let some needy couple adopt her. I couldn’t do that. To give away my baby was anathema to me.’

  A silence stretched between them, filled with the intensity of the emotion that suddenly linked them.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ he said calmly after a short pause in which neither of them seemed to want to break the silence. ‘I’m relieved you remained strong and fought for her.’

  ‘I couldn’t do anything else. My mother is a formidable lady. It was a huge relief when I won the battle to keep Violet. But I couldn’t let her go. I wouldn’t hear of it. When my mother realised I was serious, she suggested that I went away and when I returned with a child tell everyone that I had married and my husband had died.’

  ‘I take it you didn’t want to do that either.’

  ‘No. I couldn’t spend my life living a lie. When I got over the initial shock of my condition, my duty was to the child. I decided to look to the future, to my new life with all the responsibility due to that child who would grow up without knowing her father—life was too short to squander on what ifs and wherefores. My day-to-day life would change, I knew that, and that I would be ostracised and shunned by friends and neighbours. But after much soul-searching I discarded any resentment and self-pity I felt about my situation. Now I spend as much time with my beautiful daughter as I possibly can.’

  Laurence gave her a look of admiration. ‘It appears to me that you are a capable young woman. I can only apologise for not being there to support you. When we parted that night, I had no idea who you were or where you lived. I truly believed you were a servant.’

  ‘I know. That was what I wanted you to think. It was my birthday—my eighteenth—and when my maid told me she was going to the Spring Gardens with her friends, I could not resist the temptation to go with her.’

  ‘I see. I did not know you.’

  ‘Nor I you—apart from your first name.’

  ‘And I yours.’ Retrieving
his hat, he brushed it down and placed it on his head. ‘Let me help you on to your horse.’

  They rode slowly back the way Melissa had come. The house became visible through the trees lining the road. She knew he could not fail to register the overgrown gardens and the years of neglect showing on the house with its patched roof and peeling paintwork, which her father could not afford to repair due to mismanagement and their ancestors being forced to sell off land to settle debts accrued at the gaming tables. She saw the look on Laurence’s face and chose to ignore it. It was best that she knew his opinions of her home and her family, but she wished he had not made it quite so obvious.

  ‘This is your home?’ he said.

  ‘Yes. As you can already see, it has been somewhat neglected. My ancestors thought their own amusements were more important than keeping the house in order, but I would not wish to live anywhere else.’

  Having halted in front of the house, Laurence took Violet while she dismounted. ‘This unfortunate state of affairs was brought about by me. I’m not proud of myself for what I did to you at the Spring Gardens. Had I known who you were, that you were the daughter of a gentleman, I would have sought you out and apologised to your family—even though your father would have been within his rights to call me out. I fully intend to do what is right.’

  Melissa bristled at his words. ‘And if I had not been the daughter of a gentleman, but only a servant?’

  ‘My responsibility to the child would be the same regardless of the mother’s station in life,’ he said, handing Violet to her as a groom appeared to take her horse. ‘Obviously matters cannot be left like this. I will speak to your parents—’

  ‘Oh—are you coming in?’

  ‘Not now. I have to consider how best to proceed. I shall call on them tomorrow.’

  With no further word he looked again at a gurgling Violet before turning his horse and riding away. Melissa watched him go, wondering in what way he wished to proceed. Perhaps he would offer some kind of financial settlement for Violet’s future. If so, Melissa’s mother would certainly not object. The only other way she could think of that would put things right would be if he were to offer her marriage, but somehow she doubted he would do that.

  * * *

  As Laurence rode away from High Meadows, his encounter with Melissa Frobisher had given him much to think about. He could not equate the elegant young lady with the amazing amber eyes and wealth of dark hair with the frivolous girl he had dallied with in the pleasure gardens all those months ago. He felt a deep stirring of compassion mingled with admiration for the manner in which she had coped with her situation—a combination of emotions that was completely foreign to him. Hers was not a situation he would have inflicted on a gently bred lady of character—or any other female for that matter—and it pained him to contemplate the tribulations she must have gone through.

  He remembered her as being a young lady who had been so sure of herself. Dress her in fashionable clothes, coif her hair into ringlets and curls, and she would not have been out of place at Almack’s. He remembered her as being so direct it was easy to forget that she was so young. He supposed it came with being left to her own devices. He recalled how impressed he had been by her and how grateful he had been that she had been so unexpectedly capable of breaking down the barriers he had erected around himself since the death of his wife. And yet he caught himself up short, chiding himself for having misread the situation so entirely and for his callous disregard of her future when their short yet pleasurable liaison was over.

  So, what was to be done now? His life at this point in time was fraught with problems—he had no time for marriage and affairs of the heart. A man who loved too well was vulnerable—something he had learned to his cost. Certainly in the past he had yielded to the desires of the flesh as much as the next man, but he had never doted on any of them—except one, a beautiful, callous woman called Alice, a woman he had made his wife, a woman who had deceived him with another, leaving him and taking their son with her, only for it to end in tragedy. Now, almost three years on, he was confronted with a serious dilemma.

  When he had encountered and made love to Melissa Frobisher, how could he have known she was something other than a servant? He’d fallen into the oldest trap in the world, made weak by his own maleness, and the trap unwittingly set by this woman’s own female body which hadn’t even known what it was about. He had done so much harm to her who, at the time, in her innocence, had likely confused sexuality with infatuation or even love in her mind. But whatever the facts of the matter he must, for the sake of the child they had heedlessly made, put it right. However awkward that might be, he must pay the price of his passion. Already he was taking steps with regard to his child.

  When he had taken Violet in his arms, he was rewarded with a smile that lit up the darkest corner of his heart. She had looked into his face with interest, as if she, too, was affected by the poignancy of the moment of their meeting. The new life he held seemed like a miracle after all he had suffered after losing his son. The memory of the pain he’d felt when he had been told of Toby’s death, the harrowing, crucifying agony, had lessened a little with time, but it had not gone away. It never would.

  He’d wanted to find something there to give him pause, to remind him why he’d vowed on the death of his son never to father a child again, because should he lose another, the pain of it would be impossible to bear. But he had found nothing except the trusting eyes of a child, his child, a child he could not, would not deny. He had stepped over an invisible line and wouldn’t be able to step back again. He could only move forward. On discovering that Violet was his daughter, hope had flared within him, a great shining hope...

  Dear Lord, was he mad letting his thoughts wander as they were doing, when all his senses, every warning bell, every instinct for self-preservation that his human body possessed told him to back away, not to be tempted a second time? But Violet was his daughter and he would not. Could not.

  * * *

  It was the next afternoon and Melissa was outside with Violet, awaiting the arrival of their visitor. Holding her daughter close, as she walked in the garden she gazed at the old house with great affection. Unlike so many large houses, High Meadow had not withstood the passage of time well. Melissa’s great-grandfather had built the house to impress, with no thought of restraint, but from the day the builders had moved out the house had begun a long and steady decline.

  Melissa’s once prosperous ancestors had been part of a merchant class, but after a series of poor investments there was little money left to inherit. But there was something eternal in the mellowing walls and gardens overgrown with creepers and vines. It was set in a deer park, serene and untouched, though a large portion of the land and farms High Meadows depended on for its income had long since been sold, along with much of the house contents. The income from the few remaining tenants was meagre and Melissa’s mother worked tirelessly trying to make ends meet.

  Melissa missed her brothers terribly. Robert had married a hard-headed businessman’s daughter from the north of England. She was no great catch, but from her mother’s point of view and their own impoverishment, she was not a disaster. Henry, two years Robert’s senior, was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. She thought often of the time when they had been children, when they had run up and down the wide staircase and slid down the wooden banister, the sound of their voices, the playful squabbling and boisterous laughter, filling the house.

  That was all gone now and the spacious rooms felt empty and bereft. She knew her parents missed her siblings, especially her mother, who had doted on her handsome sons, often at the expense of Melissa, who had often felt rejected in favour of her brothers. When Robert and Henry had left home to seek their independence, her comfort had come from her father’s beloved horses, who loved her for who she was.

  Her mother was always concerned with doing the right thing and with protocol and rules for thi
s and that, insisting that they should be followed religiously. She certainly made up for her father’s easy-going manner. Very little disturbed him unless it concerned his horses. This often infuriated her mother, who wasn’t a cruel woman, just bitterly disappointed that she was buried alive in the rustic Hertfordshire countryside instead of being part of the London scene.

  Melissa was watching with interest as a dead beech tree which had been felled by two woodmen was in the process of being sawn into logs that would be taken round to the stables and stored. Violet was having great fun trying to scramble over one, gurgling with glee as she managed to perch on top. The two men laughed at her antics, clearly taken with the child.

  ‘Ah, keeping an eye on Violet, I see.’

  Melissa spun round to find herself confronted by Laurence. He had dismounted from his horse and was holding the reins loosely in his hand. She hadn’t seen him arrive and his sudden appearance put her on the alert. ‘I always do.’

  Unfortunately Violet chose that moment to tumble off the log. Laurence made an exclamation and started forward, but at the sound of his voice Violet picked herself up and grinned, all thoughts of her tumble forgotten as she crawled towards the man who had made such a big impression on her the day before. With a gesture that tugged at Melissa’s heart and astonished the two woodcutters, Laurence dropped the reins and swung the child up into his arms, hugging her close and kissing her rosy cheek.

  ‘I trust you have informed your parents of my visit—and the connection I have to Violet?’ he asked, looking at her over the top of Violet’s head.

  ‘Yes. It was—difficult,’ she told him, which was true. Her mother had been struck dumb and her father had gaped at her in absolute astonishment before bombarding her with questions until her head ached. ‘They are expecting you.’

  ‘Indeed! Lead the way.’ Handing Violet to her, he instructed one of the woodcutters to look after his horse. ‘The sooner I make their acquaintance and get this situation under control the better.’