of an innocent child—his wealth, his happiness. We brought that child into the world, and his welfare is our responsibility.”
Ah, God. She had bargained for this. She had chosen Darius Lindsey because he would protect his loved ones, and now she would destroy him as none of his harpies ever could.
“Darius, listen to me. Thurgood already has that control. He saw me getting out of this coach when I left Surrey. He knows this coach, he can describe the brass fittings on the lamps, and now he knows the coach is yours. If I thwart him, he will ruin you, me, William, and the child’s entire life. I cannot allow that.”
“So what you want is for me to slink away, a dog whipped by Thurgood’s threats? A man who abandons the people entrusted to his care?”
She could not make her mouth form the word “yes,” not when it struck her like a thunderclap that Darius had prostituted himself to provide for John and the collection of castoffs that formed the staff at Averett Hill. There was nothing,
“This is how it will be, Vivian: Someday, years hence, you will manage to get word to me that I might see the boy playing in the park with his governess. After lurking like a smuggler awaiting the wrecker’s signal, I will have a few minutes to observe the child from a distance, and your husband will learn of it. You will not be punished directly—the child will be. Why do you think my father beat me so enthusiastically every time my mother danced with the wrong man?”
She turned her face into his shoulder, wishing she could bolt from the coach. The magnitude of the suffering he’d endured, the magnitude of the suffering he forecast, was unfathomable. “Then you must not lurk, and I must not signal you.”
He heaved up a sigh. She knew, from their first month together, the exact contours and rhythm of his sighs. She both hoped and feared that his sigh had held the beginning of capitulation, maybe not total—the looming loss must be grieved—though it was the start of a consideration of surrender.
Why did she feel only despair where relief ought to be? “You can tell the coachy to take us home, Darius. I think we’ve said all there is to say on the matter.” All they could bear to say.
He made no sign he’d heard her. He was instead regarding the baby, who’d whimpered with some baby- dream-induced distress.
“Hush, child.” Darius cradled the child closer and ran his nose over Will’s little cheek—when had she surrendered the baby into Darius’s embrace? “You’re safe. I’m here.”
A heart could break over and over. Vivian had known that, watching William miss his beloved spouse, day after day, night after night. She’d gained a deeper understanding of it since meeting Darius, and today heartbreak pressed in on her from all sides.
“You trusted me, Vivian, as the man who could hold confidences that would affect the life of an innocent child.” He glanced down at her, then back at the baby, his expression pensive. “You trusted me as your paramour. I think you trusted me as your friend—I hope you did.”
Another silence, while Vivian wished and wished and told herself to give up wishing once and for all.
“Do you recall a certain night?” He swallowed and glanced away, out the window to where the lovely streets of Mayfair were showing to good advantage on a mild fall day.
She knew immediately where his thoughts had gone. “I gave you pleasure. You barely allowed it.”
He nodded once. “That night, I could not allow it, because I was not worthy of such a gift. My shame was without limit, eating at me like a disease. As a sop to my pride—and isn’t it curious how shame and pride can get along so well?—you pretended you were taking liberties. I knew better.”
This had something to do with calling himself a prostitute and with a lurking accusation that Thurgood was going to back Vivian into the same role—the same fate.
“Go on.”
“You were not on a casual erotic adventure, Vivian. You were making love to me. You were stating, in unequivocal terms, that no matter what I thought of
He closed his eyes. His throat worked. Vivian wanted to stop his words, and yet he spoke his truth to her, a truth she rejoiced to hear.
“For this reason, I can abandon neither the child nor you to Thurgood’s avarice and perversity. You trusted me before Vivian, in many regards, but can’t you trust me as the father of your child?”
Vivian was watching his mouth, probably marveling at the fancies a grown man could spew when he was desperate and holding his only child for what could be the last time.
“What are you asking me, Darius? I would trust you with my life, and with Will’s. I think William has done exactly that, but Thurgood is depraved. My mother couldn’t see it, but he forged her signature on a power of attorney as casually as you’d scrawl your regrets to a Venetian breakfast.”
And
“I have consulted the finest legal minds in the City, Vivian. There is nothing Thurgood can do to affect Will’s claim on the title. William posted a birth notice in every newspaper in the capital, signed birth announcements with his own hand, sent personal correspondence to his friends and familiars rejoicing at the birth of his son.”
“How do you know this?”
“He wrote to me too, couching the letter as a request to serve as the boy’s godfather, based on the friendship and respect earned in all our varied dealings.” Those were William’s words:
“William said I was not to worry. I wish he’d told me.”
Would she have agreed to such a letter? It argued loudly for allowing Darius to at least visit his godson, if nothing else.
“William does not want this child raised by a stranger of Thurgood’s choosing.” He had no right to add his own protestation, though it killed him to keep the words behind his teeth.
“We are going in circles, Darius. Angela and Jared will wonder if you’ve abducted me.”
The thought had fleeting appeal. Darius thumped on the roof twice, and the horses shifted into a trot. He resettled his arm around Vivian’s shoulders. “You’ll allow me to deal with Thurgood?”
She was quiet for so long he wondered if she’d answer. Her gaze was on the child, who—bless the boy—had slept for the entire journey. “You love that child, Darius Lindsey. You just met him today, and you love him.”
He loved the child and the child’s mother. The two loves were tangled up, reinforcing each other and lighting dim places in a soul that had dwelt too long in shadows. To say such a thing to her in those words would be unfair, also unwise.
“I tried not to, Vivvie. You were a new roof. Will was fresh marl for all my pastures, and security for John. I find I am not as resolute in these matters as I ought to be.”
A hint, the barest dawn-streak of a smile graced her features then faded. She spoke slowly, her gaze returning to the baby. “We have some time. William yet lives. Thurgood will do nothing while my husband is alive, and Dr. Garner assured me it’s quite possible William will make a full recovery.”
No, it was not. The handwriting and content of last month’s letter from William had conveyed waning strength of will as much as waning health.
“We can but hope.” That from a man who regarded hope as the last monster to escape from Pandora’s box, at least until recently.
“No pistols or swords, Darius. Thurgood will not observe any rules of fair conduct. He’ll have you stabbed in the back in some dark alley, and then be all sympathy and smiles at your bad fortune.”
“He has no honor. I’ve learned to recognize the type.” And he’d learned how to deal with them. “Promise me you won’t be alone with him, Vivian. Not in your own front parlor, not on the steps of the church, nowhere. If he comes to call, then the baby is fussy and you cannot spare a moment from the nursery. Promise me.”
The expression on her features reminded him of the day he’d stood behind her when she’d faced the mirror,
