Regency High Society Vol 5: The Disgraced Marchioness / The Reluctant Escort / The Outrageous Debutante / A Damnable Rogue. Mary Nichols
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the curve of his neck.
Watching them together, the light dawned for Eleanor. How could she not have made the connection? She had seen it before, and commented on it, without understanding its significance. It was as clear as faceted crystal in the morning sunshine.
‘Of course,’ Eleanor said softly. ‘He is yours, isn’t he? You are Edward’s sister with the baby, who lived with him at the Great House.’
‘I must not say.’ Sarah’s voice was muffled against her son’s head.
‘I should have guessed days ago,’ Eleanor persisted. ‘You are so loving, and caring of his needs. When Octavia was so uninterested—’
‘Octavia cares nothing for him!’ Eleanor’s words brought an instant reaction. Sarah raised her head, lips thinned in anger, her words bitter. ‘He is mine! Never hers! I should never have gone along with it. It was a terrible thing to do. I am so sorry…’ Tears began to stream down her cheeks, as much in anger as in grief.
Eleanor produced a handkerchief and tried to calm the girl’s anguish. Henry instructed the coachman to turn into one of the quieter drives where no one would be witness to her distress.
‘Will you tell us, Miss Baxendale?’ Lord Henry asked, giving her the respect of her true name.
‘I dare not. Edward…’
‘I will do everything in my power to protect you from Baxendale,’ Henry tried to reassure her as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together in his mind. Sarah’s participation in Baxendale’s intrigue, willing or otherwise, would prove to be the final key to the mystery.
‘But I have nothing.’ Her words were clipped and despairing. ‘I need his protection. He warned me that—’
‘We know so much already.’ Eleanor tried to hide the urgency of her need. ‘You must tell us the truth. It was a despicable thing for your brother to have done. I can see that you have been given cause for great suffering. If you will trust us, we can rescue you and make it right again.’
‘Why not?’ Sarah sighed, closed her eyes for a moment. ‘What do I owe Edward now? I am so tired of all this deceit. It is true that I am Edward’s sister and that John is my son.’
‘Could you tell us how it was that you allowed your brother to make use of him?’ Eleanor asked in her gentle manner so as not to distress the lady further. ‘It must have been very difficult for you. Why did you agree to play the role of nursemaid?’
Sarah Baxendale looked at Eleanor for a long moment. Then nodded and began to explain the events which led to the deception.
‘I was married to a naval officer, Captain John Russell,’ Sarah explained. ‘He was killed in action in the last months of the war against Napoleon. My son was born two months after his death—his father never knew him. The pension is very small and I had no resources of my own so Edward gave me a home and an allowance to bring up my child. I was companion to Octavia. He was very kind to me, you see.’
She bit her lip as the memories flooded back.
‘And then he told me of his plan: for Octavia to pretend that she had been wedded to the Marquis of Burford, who had just died. And to claim that John was her child. Her brother Julius would provide the legal evidence, lured by the promise of a welllined pocket. Even if he is Octavia’s brother, he disgusts me…’ Sarah frowned as she considered the sins of the Reverend Broughton. ‘I refused, of course. How could I give my child into Octavia’s careless hands? But Edward said that if I cared so much, I could take the role of nursemaid so that I could be with him. He threatened to…to turn me out if I did not comply. I would be homeless and without financial provision. I have no other relatives, you see. I did not know what to do. He knew that I had no choice and had no compunction in threatening me. But he told me it would not be for ever—perhaps only a few months at the most. So I gave in—for such a short time whilst we were in London. I know it is no excuse, but that is why I allowed myself to become involved in something that has filled me with guilt and a self-disgust beyond all bearing. I have shamed my own name and that of my dear husband.’
She dashed the tears from her cheeks with an impatient hand, determined to regain some of the dignity that had been stripped from her by her wilful brother.
‘I don’t think I realised that it would cause so much hurt. I did when we came to Burford Hall, of course. When I saw the effect of Edward’s claims on you, my lady. But I closed my heart to it because I seemed to have no choice in the matter.’
She began to weep again.
‘Mrs Russell,’ Henry addressed her with due formality. ‘Would you consent to tell this sorry tale to my lawyer, Hoskins? That is all that would be required of you.’
‘I dare not face Edward,’ she whispered in broken tones. ‘He will punish me if he learns that I have spoken with you.’
‘There is no need to face him, unless you wish it.’ He looked to Eleanor for confirmation, an eyebrow lifted. She nodded, reading his thoughts. ‘Nor will he harm you. I would suggest that you owe your brother nothing. He had no consideration for your feelings when he forced you to agree to so diabolical a plot against all your maternal instincts. We will acknowledge our great debt to you. You are free to live at Burford Hall with your son. Not as an employee, but as a guest. And the estate will provide you with an income. Until you decide what you wish to do and where you would wish to live. But you will never suffer for what you have done for us today.’
‘No. I cannot…’
‘Will you at least consider it? For the sake of John, if not for yourself?’
Sarah sat silently, looking at her son. She ran her fingers over his fair hair, so like her own, her lips curling into a reluctant smile when he looked up into her face and laughed with childish delight, lifting a hand to pat her cheek as if he would have given comfort. She would do anything for the safety and happiness of her child.
‘Very well. I think that once again I have no choice.’ She looked up, her eyes now clear and determined, and addressed Lord Henry. ‘I fear that sounds churlish, which was not my intention. I know that I do not deserve your gratitude or your help, rather your condemnation. I have done you and your family a terrible wrong, helping to destroy the good name and integrity of your brother and his true wife.’ She inclined her head towards Eleanor. ‘But for the sake of my son, I will accept your offer, and thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will speak to Mr Hoskins.’
Henry took possession of one of Sarah’s hands and lifted it in formal recognition of her intent to his lips. ‘You must not blame yourself, ma’am. The wrong was Baxendale’s—and you have now remedied it. My family’s inheritance is no longer in doubt. The guilt is not yours.’
‘And you have taken a terrible weight from my mind.’ Eleanor touched the lady’s hand in ready compassion. ‘Your courage has ensured that the future of my son, as well as your own, is safe.’
If Mr Hoskins was surprised to see his noble Faringdon clients at an hour when they might normally be partaking of a light luncheon, he did not show it, but ushered them into his office.
He was unable to disguise his amazement, however, when he was introduced to the young woman who accompanied them. Why should the Baxendale nursemaid and the child at the centre of the controversy be on such terms with the Marchioness of Burford? She apparently was under no duress, but entered his rooms with quiet composure, holding the child tightly against her. He sensed a tension within the little group. But he did not express his speculative interest—instead he found seats for the ladies and fussed over a glass of ratafia for them and a brandy for his lordship. The child seemed content, in the short term, to sit on his nurse’s knee and investigate the contents of the Marchioness’s reticule.
Hoskins cast a sharp eye over the tall figure of Lord Henry as he took up a position beside the hearth with its smouldering fire. His reacquaintance with his lordship since his return from New York had given the lawyer considerable cause to re-evaluate the man who dominated