“I supposed as much. I would call you defiant, but I can see plainly enough that you simply do not know.” He waved a hand dismissively. “No matter. We will draw her out. She has always had this tiresome habit of wanting to do the right thing. The moment she learns her son has vanished, she will come out of whatever hole she has been hiding in.”
“Why do you want her? Why did you keep her at all?”
He shook his head, almost wearily. “All I ever wanted was my son. Do you imagine I would have chosen some penniless orphan as a wife by preference? It was meant to be an amusement. Nothing more. But of course, she fell pregnant. I should have abandoned her then and there, but my uncle—whose estate I am to inherit—cares a great deal about securing the family line. Italian law is not so forgiving as yours, my lady. Family means everything there. He wished me to have an heir. And since she was already with child, I thought, very well. I shall marry her and claim the child and hope for a son. Although even a daughter would have pleased my uncle well enough. They are sentimental about children, the Italians.”
She stared at him, mouth slightly open.
“I still do not understand,” she said. “You could simply have taken the child from her. You did not need to marry her at all.”
He smiled at that, faintly pleased with himself. “But I did. I could not have a child out of wedlock, could I? It is frowned upon. She always said I was clever. It was one of the things she liked about me by her own admission. But Arabella was always rather romantic in her notions. I did not want a wife. I wanted only the child. But she insisted on making our union into some grand love story, and I played along. We married at my uncle’s estate in Italy. A grand, romantic affair, just as she wanted.”
“My uncle, however, was not pleased. He had already selected a woman for me—a beautiful young contessa. Dark hair to her waist.” He gestured with one hand. “Lovely. Exactly the connection he wished for. I was meant to marry her. But had my uncle ever learned I had abandoned a woman carrying my child without claiming it, he would never have forgiven me. So, I was forced to marry Arabella in haste.” He paused. “Unfortunately, one night, she overheard me discussing my plans with my uncle.”
“Plans,” Clara repeated.
“I intended to keep the child and divorce her. A generous settlement, and she would be sent on her way. Especially once the child proved to be a boy.” He rolled his eyes. “But she had to make everything complicated by running. Such an inconvenience. And Giacomo—my own footman, if you can believe it, helped her. He fell for her charms of course. I thought I could trust him. As they say, good help is hard to find.”
“She attempted to leave while still with child, a month after we married. Foolish girl. I was forced to lock her in her chambers. Though before you grow distressed on her behalf, they were beautiful chambers overlooking Naples. A sitting room, a dining room. We did have to nail the windows shut, I admit, but entirely lovely otherwise.”
He crossed to her and tapped David lightly on the nose. The baby screamed at once, and Clara pulled him away.
“He will come to know me again,” Devereau said calmly. “That is simply what happens when a son is kept from his father too long. No matter.”
“I ask you again. Why do you need Arabella? Why are you pursuing her?”
“Is that so difficult to understand? She must agree to a divorce. I told her before she left that all she needed do was admit to infidelity since I cannot have my son’s paternity called into question. I knew Giacomo was fond of her and she of him. I was prepared to make it simple for the two of them. Admit to the affair, allow the divorce, and they could go their way. And I would take Alexander back to Italy.”
“Alexander?” she asked, utterly lost.
“The child in your arms. Has she named him Horatio? I knew David could not be his true name—she spoke once of wanting to honor her father, and I told her she might use it as a middle name if she liked, but Alexander is my own father’s name. Ofcourse, he is named aftermylate father.” He waved a hand. “In any case, she did not care for my plan, and she and Giacomo vanished into the night instead. My uncle was furious. I assured him I would resolve the marriage one way or another—divorce, I meant—but he is apparently prepared to go rather further than that now.”
“Then why take me?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I expect within a day or two, the disappearance of the Duchess of Lynden will find its way into the scandal sheets. If the loss of her so-called son did not draw her out, I am quite certain yours will. And if it does not—well, then it will simply continue happening to the people around her. People will be hurt. People will disappear until she shows herself and gives me what I want.” He smiled thinly. “I have plans for that Mrs. Holt as well you know. She spoke of herself at some length on our journey together. Tedious woman. She has a little girl, too. I have thoughts on that score also. And your so-called husband.”
“You are vile,” Clara said. “We will never let you get away with this. We will never let you take David back to Italy or let any harm come to Arabella.”
He let out a roar of laughter. “You are every bit as preciously naive as your friend. You underestimate me entirely. I already have my son back. And you are here, where nobody will find you. But dear Bella knows of this place. She will come. And when she does, this will all resolve itself quite neatly, with your help.”
“I would sooner ice-skate the Serpentine in July than help you.”
He chuckled at that. “A pretty picture. But you will help me because you wish to be free again, do you not? You wish to be alive. You wish to protect Mrs. Holt and her little girl and your husband and all those precious servants at your precious estate. You would not want anything to happen to them.” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock sorrow. “How dreadful it would be—an accidental fire in the servants’ hall. How dreadful if some careless temper with a carriage caused your husband to crash on the road. That would be quite dreadful indeed, wouldn’t it?”
He straightened. “So. You will help me. You will convince her to sign a statement admitting infidelity and grant the divorce. And then, all of this may still have a very happy ending.” He moved towards her. “Now, I shall leave you to rest. You must be tired.”
He reached for the baby. David screamed and clung to her, and Devereau’s nostrils flared as he wrenched the child away regardless.
“Leave him with me, please,” she called.
“You have promised to help convince Arabella?”
She looked between him and the child. “Yes. I will help you. Give me David.”
He nodded and handed the baby back. “You may keep him for the present. When the time comes, he returns to Italy with me, and you will never see him again.”
With that, he left, the door falling shut heavily behind him. Clara sank into the armchair and held David against her chest.
“Do not worry, my love,” she whispered into his hair. “We will get out. All of us. Your mother, if she comes, and you and I both. You are not going anywhere with that monster. I will not allow it.”
