They were about to step free of the copse of trees onto an open stretch of grass, where a number of people were strolling or sitting, enjoying the warm summer afternoon. They both stopped walking instead and stayed in the shade of an old oak tree, looking out into the bright sunshine.
“I do not know if any very young person would be up to the task,” Miss Martin said. “And in London of all places. That child needs air and exercise, Lord Attingsborough. She needs the countryside. She needs a mother.”
“Which is the one thing I can never give her,” he said, and he could see from the look in her eye that she understood that even his marriage could not provide Lizzie with a mother. His daughter was illegitimate and must forever be kept apart from—and secret from—any legitimate family he might have in future.
Everything had been reasonably simple as long as Sonia was alive. He had known, of course, that his daughter was living a less than ideal existence, but her basic needs had always been provided and she had always had a home and security and affection from the Smarts—oh, and from Sonia too—and love in abundance from him.
“Anxiety has become my constant companion since Sonia’s death, Miss Martin,” he said. “I suppose it was there before that, but it is only since that I have faced the fact that Lizzie is growing up. A handicapped child can be pampered and protected and held on one’s lap and within the circle of one’s arms when she is very young. But what is to become of her as an adult? Will I be able to find her a husband who will be kind to her? I can shower her with wealth, of course, but what of her inner being? What will there be to sustain her or give her any happiness? What will happen to her when I die?”
Miss Martin set a hand on his arm, and he turned his head to look down at her, strangely comforted. Her intelligent gray eyes gazed steadily into his and without thinking he covered her hand with his own.
“Let me get to know Lizzie better, Lord Attingsborough,” she said. “And let me think about the possibility of her attending my school.MayI see her again?”
He realized suddenly and in some embarrassment that his eyes had filled with tears. He blinked them away.
“Tomorrow?” he said. “At the same time?”
“If the weather is still fine, perhaps we can take her out,” she said, sliding her hand free of his arm. “Or are you reluctant to be seen with her?”
“We could take her for a picnic,” he suggested, “to Richmond Park or Kew Gardens.”
“I will leave that for you to decide,” she said. “Does anyone know about your daughter?”
“Neville,” he said. “The Earl of Kilbourne. He has met her and sometimes looks in on her when I am away, as I was in Bath recently. But basically a gentleman takes care of such matters himself. It is not something he talks about with his peers.”
“And does Miss Hunt know?” she asked.
“Good Lord, no!”
“And yet,” she said, “you are to marry her.”
“That,”he said, “is a recent development, Miss Martin. My father has been ill and now fancies—perhaps correctly—that his heart has been affected. Before summoning me to Bath he had Lord Balderston, Miss Hunt’s father, as his guest, and the two of them concocted the marriage scheme. It makes sense. Miss Hunt and I are both single and of the same world. We have known each other for a few years and have always dealt well enough together. But until very recently I did not think actually ofcourtingher. I was unable to think of courting anyone as long as Sonia lived. I believe in monogamous relationships even if the woman is but a mistress. Unfortunately, we grew apart over the years even though I believe we always remained fond of each other. Indeed, for the last two or three years of her life we did not even…Well, never mind.”
He had discovered with some surprise that Sonia was unfaithful to him. And while he had felt unable to turn her out because of Lizzie, he had never again slept with her.
Miss Martin was no simpering miss.
“You have been celibate for more than two years, then?” she asked.
He chuckled despite himself.
“A lowering thing for a gentleman to admit, is it not?” he said.
“Not at all,” she retorted. “I have been celibate far longer than that, Lord Attingsborough.”
“Not all your life?” he asked, feeling somewhat as if he were in the middle of a bizarre dream. Was he really having this very improper conversation with Miss Claudia Martin of all people?
“No,” she said softly after a short silence. “Notallmy life.”
Good Lord!
And of course his mind immediately framed the question—who?
And just as immediately came up with an answer.
McLeith?
Damn the man!
