“Years ago, my mum advertised to take in by-blows for a fee,” he said quietly, holding Lavinia against his side as they lay on his jacket in her family’s gardens, near the corner brightened with the colorful pansies—not that he could see that, of course, because it was dark. But it was her favorite place to sit and ruminate, and now when she was here, she would think of him.
They’d stayed at the tavern until it closed. She’d tried scotch—which burned her throat—and brandy—which made the inside of her nose tickle but had a warmer feel to it as it went down, and she rather liked it. All the while she’d felt his brothers scrutinizing them and thought she might have a notion regarding how someone had felt being left in the stocks all day, back when people were shamed in such a manner. She’d ignored them as much as possible, because she wanted a pleasant evening with Finn. He was all that mattered.
“Mick was brought to her first. Then Aiden, then six weeks later me. The man who brought me was the same one who brought Aiden. Cocky bugger. Didn’t even bother to hide the crest on his carriage.”
Her heart kicked against her ribs so hard she suspected he felt it. “Your father is an aristocrat? Who?”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be associated with him.”
“And your mother?”
“I don’t know anything about her. Since he had two by-blows delivered within weeks of each other, we assumed he had more than one mistress. Aiden follows him around occasionally, knows he keeps more than one mistress on hand at a time, has even spoken with him. But I have no interest in him whatsoever. He’s not the sort with whom I want to associate—a man who treats women abominably, who gets rid of his children without compunction.”
She couldn’t believe it. “He just... he just gave you away?”
“Never looked back. Never checked on us. Paid our mum fifteen pounds for each of us.” He chuckled low. “Asked if he could pay a lower fee for me since she already had one of his bastards. Mum made him pay full price.”
“That’s horrid.”
Rolling over until he was facing her, he cradled her cheek, stroked his thumb along the corner of her mouth. “That’s one of the reasons I didn’t tell you. It’s not a happy tale, but my mum—Ettie Trewlove—she’s been good to me. She loves us, all of us, and made us into a family. Not all baby farmers care about the babes brought to them. They’re just business. She cares, so I’ve been fortunate in that regard.”
“She’s the fortunate one. To have you.” And Lavinia couldn’t help but think she’d be fortunate as well if she could have him—even knowing that she couldn’t, that it was an impossibility. But he was hers at this very moment, secluded as they were, with no one to know what they were about. Her heart ached for him, for all the doubts that had to plague him. She couldn’t imagine being cast aside, needed to reassure him that his revelations had not changed her feelings for him—
But even as she thought it, she realized they had changed. They’d grown deeper. What a remarkable person he was to rise above such a sordid beginning. Lifting her hand, she curled it around his neck as she leaned in and captured his mouth, declaring it and him as her own.
As his growl reverberated around them, he didn’t hesitate to open his mouth to her, and she took advantage, deepening the kiss, striving to communicate with a passionate sweep of her tongue how much she adored him, how his past mattered only to the extent that it had shaped him into someone she loved.
And she did love him. It frightened her to consider how much she did. She couldn’t give voice to the words. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Eventually, she would have to honor a pact her father had made. But not now, not at this moment.
So she kissed him with fervor and joy and heartache, and didn’t object when his hand cradled her breast and squeezed. Or when he lowered his mouth to the taut pearl and closed his mouth over it, the heat sending warmth spiraling through her, pooling between her thighs. Clutching the back of his head, she held him where he was, wishing no cloth separated the silkiness of her skin from the velvety roughness of his tongue. She sighed and moaned and knew she was being a wicked girl, but it all felt so marvelous. Where was the harm in luxuriating for only a minute or perhaps two?
Then his lips were back on hers, and she was dragging her fingers through his hair. She almost gave voice to these feelings that wanted to burst forth like the fireworks she’d seen lighting the sky at Cremorne Gardens.
Eventually, he was the one who showed restraint, who drew back, and looked down on her. “Next Tuesday,” he whispered, a vow, a benediction.
And she wondered how she could possibly go that long without seeing him and remain sane.
Sitting in the Mermaid, downing his third pint of beer, Finn admitted he hated every night of the week except Tuesday. This night was Wednesday, the night after he’d brought Vivi here. He wanted to bring her again, wanted to take her somewhere else. He wanted to experience all manner of adventures with her.
He barely stirred when a chair was pulled out, spun around, and Aiden dropped into his line of vision, crossing his arms over the back of the chair. “What were you thinking last night to bring that lass here? She’s an earl’s daughter.”
“I’m an earl’s son.”
“You’re an earl’s bastard. He’s never acknowledged you, and he’s never going to. Your mother was his mistress—”
“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything about her. We just assume that to be the case because he had two by-blows to deliver in short order. She could have been a servant or some lord’s daughter.”
“What? Are you wishing on stars now, thinking if you take a piece of him and a piece of your mother that you can make yourself a whole that’s worthy of her? It’s folly, Finn. She’s folly. Nothing good will come of this.”
Chapter 6
1871
Nothing good would come from his going after her, but damn her to hell, he’d not be bested by the traitorous chit.
Before the pain had fully subsided, he caught his breath and forced himself to his feet. Drawing on vast reserves of determination, he raced after her, not having to go far before spying her. She walked at a brisk clip, but continually glanced around, searching for any dangers. The girl he’d known hadn’t been so self-sufficient, so aware. What had transpired in the years since he’d seen her? He fought not to care, not to wonder.
Slowing his pace, quietening his steps, he managed to catch up with her rather sooner than she probably would have liked. The irritation fairly flowed off her in waves. He’d always been able to read her so well. It was the reason her betrayal had come as such a surprise. He’d been caught completely unawares and, in the end, had felt like a lamb led to slaughter—considering his occupation at the time, the comparison seemed more than appropriate.
