“Yes, precisely. It sounds like an impossibility,” Richard confirmed bitterly. “The baby is only a few weeks old but seems to be healthy. Somebody left it and ran off, leaving her with only the clothes she was wearing and an anonymous note. I want to know if you have heard of any recent, illicit affair that may have ended with a child about her age. I want to know her parentage.”
Jonathan narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin. He looked deep in thought. He always flirted with the edge of scandal and was known for observing other people’s behavior closely.
“I will see what I can do. I will ask around in various drawing rooms and gaming halls. Listen to conversations. Share my own adventures to elicit similar responses. However, affairs are quite plentiful. Illegitimate children are often handled with discretion, though,” he said thoughtfully. “You’ll hear about the usual people, mostly cads like Lord Selkirk, who has had affairs with several opera singers. The Earl of Denby’s second son might be a little young, but someone said that he had compromised his governess. But why would anyone leave a baby at your doorstep? There are other ways to have a child passed on to somebody else. The child’s parent is certainly desperate.”
“So, have you not yet heard of any recent rumor that may match Melody’s story? Have you not heard of any pregnant woman being discreetly removed from her home or place of work?”
“You know me, Hawksford. I am good at listening, and sometimes, er, eavesdropping, and I have not heard anything that matches the baby’s circumstances. However, you must act now, even before you discover the child’s parentage, which may be next to impossible. The ton will feast on the story when given the chance. The ambiguity of the baby’s identity will raise the court of public opinion. They will assume the worst. Some may think the child is yours, even if you deny it. If they have not seen the duchess as often as of late, they may even think it is hers. The foundling story may be thought of as a means to hide a great folly.”
A scandal would certainly be inconvenient. He had already taken a dangerous turn, separating physically from his wife for a year. The year felt like an insult to her, but it was preservation. Preservation meant forher. At least, he managed to persuade himself to believe this. It was not acceptable for many. Add a story of apparent infidelity, and Hawksford would be ruined.
“I have a cousin who was recently widowed,” Richard began, an idea forming in his head. He felt strange about having to come up with a cover story in such a short period. He didn’t like the idea of lying, but he didn’t have a choice. “Her husband died suddenly in the summer, and has just passed on herself. It is a sad story, but one that we can exploit. We can claim that the child is hers and that I was given the responsibility of caring for the baby as her closest relative.”
Jonathan’s face broke into a smile. “You thought of that quickly. And here you are, hoping I could be of help. You solve the problem yourself! A widow’s child with a recently deceased mother and father. Then, you come swooping in because of yoursense of duty. It is perfect. You will come across as a responsible cousin, not an immoral father. There will be no infidelities mentioned, no mistresses to be hunted. Everything will be clean and honorable. The story must be implemented as soon as possible!”
“I intend to use this story immediately,” Richard said, feeling even more determined.
“What about the duchess? How is she handling this possible scandal?” Jonathan asked, his eyes sparkling with barely concealed mischief.
“She is upset, understandably so,” Richard said stiffly. “Unfortunately, she still thinks Melody is mine. She finds it suspicious that of all the doors in London, the mother chose ours.”
“Well, you are imaginative enough. You can persuade your wife that you have not been with any other woman since you wed with methods that can be, uh, quite persuasive,” Jonathan said with raised eyebrows before he looked down to take another sip of his drink.
Richard gave him a warning glare. Jonathan would always be Jonathan. It could be an exasperating relief.
Jonathan sighed, raising his hands in mock defeat, but the words that flowed from him were grave. “My apologies. She is your wife, after all. Perhaps the foundling was a means for the two of you to reconnect. Perhaps it was a blessing.”
Richard shook his head, dismissing the thought. Yet, a strong image of Victoria flashed in his mind as he rose to leave White’s. This Victoria was not the one the ton knew well, the one with the sharp tongue and boyish ways.
The truth was that Jonathan’s suggestion stung. It touched a nerve the duke had not even realized was raw. Was he obsessed with keeping his wife safe?
When Richard reached the door, Jonathan called out, “We must not forget that if Penwike is behind this, he won’t stop at merely ruining you through a scandal. He will find more cracks in the foundation in your household.”
“The household will be stronger now that I am moving in,” Richard retorted as he paused in front of the door.
His statement was firm and confident, and yet, as he walked out into the chilly London air, his mind raced.
He had a story to present to the ton now, but had no defense against Victoria’s suspicions. He had to find out the truth about Melody, and he must do it before his temporary shields fall apart. However, as he sauntered toward his carriage, his thoughts went dark once more. He could not bring himself to leave Victoria and Melody now, but he was bringing them closer to a deadly feud.
And one thing was for certain: Penwike was already watching. He had always been.
Chapter Six
When Richard arrived back at Hawksford House, the sun had begun to set. Long shadows spread across the drawing room carpet, the edges seemingly pointing at Victoria, who sat on the sofa.
His wife was not reading a book, which was customary for her during this hour, a fact he’d gathered from the housekeeper. Instead, she was standing with Melody in her arms.
She looked like she certainly wanted to be good at caring for the newborn. For her, it could be a challenge to herself or a true development of feelings for the baby. It could be both.
Melody was fussing. It was a low sound that suggested either discomfort or exhaustion, but not a sign of true distress. It seemed that there was at least some improvement in their interactions.
Victoria rocked Melody, more gently than she did last night. Her face was scrunched into a frown, the effort certainly showing.
Richard could understand some of it. The baby needed comfort. His wife wanted to be competent at everything she did.
Melody was her true focus. Victoria had again decided she could wear whatever she wanted in her own home. She wore a thin gown with no corset and no petticoat. Instead of her gown billowing out, the fabric clung to her every curve. Richard could clearly see the natural swell of her breasts and hips. The dimming light streaming from the windows rendered the fabric almost translucent.
Desire slammed into the duke, an instantaneous and fatal blow. A year of celibacy was becoming alarming. Then again, even before he met Victoria, he had never felt this strong rush of desire. Of want. His face warmed as he tried not to gape too much at the uncorseted woman who still struggled with the infant. He felt slightly ashamed, noticing her body when he should be focused on her admirable efforts in caring for an infant who was not even her own.
